by V. L. Holt
“Tall, Dark and Handsome, Jane! Dad says he has this hair that falls into his eyes. And his eyes are either dark blue or dark brown. He couldn’t tell, because it was dark out still, you know. And it turns out, they did need directions.”
My head buzzed. Moving truck. Ahh yes. I knew exactly where the new boy lived. On my street, about five houses down. I scowled for no reason.
Crady and I arrived at school plenty early. I sat back and looked at her. “What’s the plan?” I had that assignment I wanted to read over, but I suspected she had other ideas.
“We wait. Think about it. We know every dang car in this parking lot. So we’re gonna know as soon as Mr. TDH arrives. Then, we casually walk up to him once he’s out of his car.”
I interrupted her, “And attack him before he even has a chance to take in the building. I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that plan.”
I kept imagining myself in TDH’s place. Then again, if I was in his place, I so would not be showing up on a Friday morning the same day I arrived in town. I sighed resignedly though. Crady would not be swayed and I could read the assignment just as well in her car as I could in the school library.
Crady snorted at me. “I’ll let you know as soon as he gets here. We have to beat the Ticks to him.”
I sighed again. The Ticks, also known as the Deer Run High cheerleaders, were gorgeous, popular and pretty snooty. Crady and I started calling them The Ticks back in middle school when we realized that they would never stop sucking the joy out of life. They would most likely stake their claim as soon as the new kid placed his foot on the parking lot asphalt. I twisted my mouth, unsure how badly I wanted to meet Mr. TDH versus breathing the same air as the Ticks.
I flipped open Wuthering Heights and reread the assignment. I kept imagining Heathcliff. Why did girls go nuts over the dark brooding guys in stories? It seemed like the mysterious silent type would be more trouble than they’re worth. I like my life to be pretty cut and dried.
Ooh, cut and dried. That goes on my mom-list.
I twirled a wave of my brown hair around my fingers while I read, wondering what Mrs. Dietrich would ask on the quiz. Then I heard Crady squeal.
“He’s here! OMG he’s here! And look at that car. What the heck is he driving? Is that a Minivan? Okay, weird choice for a kid, but maybe his dad makes him drive it. At least it’s a cool blue color. Have you ever seen that shade on a Minivan? Oh my heck he’s headed this way!” Crady’s commentary flowed over me like filling up a Coke at a fountain.
I finished the paragraph I was reading and looked up as the car pulled in right beside us.
On my side.
Since I was already looking, I couldn’t very well look away without being totally awkward, so I just went with it. I wasn’t really prepared for what I saw.
Crady’s dad was not too far off the mark. Not by a long shot, in fact. I noticed the boy’s jaw and neck first, and I was struck with the impression of strength and masculinity and determination. What the heck? He was just shifting into park, not wielding a broad sword. His hair was dark brown, the color of molasses, and not quite long enough to need a haircut, but give him another week. It curled just above the white collar of his shirt. His nose was long and beautifully shaped, like some Italian sculpture, and his lips were…perfect. And they opened to reveal even white teeth, clearly enhanced by a stint with an orthodontist in his younger years, I was guessing. And he was looking at me.
3
Zarastrid’s Log Day 37
The Year of Our Loch 107
Agnes surprised me; she challenged me to a game of the chesse. The other women have likewise shown astounding intelligence, considering they are mere females. They are still under isolation, however. The Coven of Lochs can barely keep their excitement in check. The women are healthy and show great promise. Typically the women of our acquaintance have lost most of their teeth by the age of twenty, and end up dying before they reach forty. Our select group still has their teeth and, more importantly, their spirit.
The Warlochs scoured the kingdom. Painstaking lists of genealogy were taken. Simple tests were created. For example, my Battle Loch Zeko, hid food in trees. Those hungry enough to climb were rewarded with bread…if they didn’t fall to their deaths from the height or by being stupid enough to go out on weak limbs.
The Warlochs paid particular attention to those single women or widows who were accused of being witches. Naturally none of them were actual witches; we made sure of that a century ago. But such women weren’t missed if they suddenly disappeared. Many were used to persecution as well.
Our girls appear to be blossoming in their cells. Given enough food, probably for the first time in their lives, they try to engage their captors in conversation. One or two of them have tried to seduce the guards. They have no idea that the guards are under threat of death if they so much as imagine sleeping with them. The females have a much broader purpose than the guards can even comprehend.
Provided they show no signs of disease or illness, the women will be vessels for the most important race of humans to ever have walked the earth. Besides us, of course.
Zainel insists his potions are almost ready. The Warloch Coven is at the dawn of a new era of global rule. While the simpletons populate the earth and fill their days with drudgery and religion, we have been plotting and planning. Seats of government will be ours. The spoils of war, the lands of our choice. All nations will bow to us.
But I am getting ahead of myself. First we must cultivate the ground in which we will grow a race of powerful soldiers that will do our bidding.
This Agnes amuses me. Where did a fallen woman learn to play the chesse, a King’s game? Once the period of isolation is over, perhaps I will amuse myself by granting her request.
4
I realized that too late, as I raised my eyes to his, and started at the deep brown of them gazing into my own.
I was not a vain girl. I knew I’d never be a model, and I thought my casual appearance was acceptable if not trendy.
My hair was light brown and wavy; I usually kept it in an elastic band at the base of my neck, and I wore clean neat clothes that were decidedly not the first stare of fashion. My eyes were gray, and I’ve been told they darken when I’m angry, but I was virtually never angry. I was average in shape…not too skinny, not too fat, and just…unremarkable in every way, especially when I compared myself to the bodacious curves and hair colors of the Ticks. But as I stupidly continued to stare into TDH’s eyes, I had this feeling that he liked what he saw.
I felt blood rush to my face; creeping up from my shoulders, collarbone, neck…I slinked down into the seat.
If I could change one thing about me, it would not be my slightly crooked teeth, or the queer bent to my nose, or the eyebrow that seems to be just the slightest bit curved higher than the other one...oh no. It would be the dang blush that I have absolutely no control over whatsoever, the blush that steals my dignity as it steals across my skin with nefarious abandon.
Crady yelped, “OMG! He’s staring at you and you are TOTES blushing! Stop it! Stop it right now, girl!”
I looked down at my book, feeling his gaze on me still. “Don’t you think I would if I could?” I murmured and closed my eyes and took several deep breaths.
Crady knew how I felt about the blushing, and she had this theory that if she yelled at me it would change the course of my thoughts, which caused it to begin in the first place. It didn’t work, but I loved her for trying.
As if it couldn’t get any worse, there came a shadow on the window. Crady sucked in a breath. I think I heard her say ‘oh em gee’ one last time and then she toggled the lever that lowered the window.
Was I just thinking that I loved her? Because she was in deep crap right about now. I took a final deep breath and looked up. Way up. He was massive.
He stood with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. He was still looking at me with those hard brown eyes.
My senses were on full alert.
I’m talking Fight or Flight kicked in and I swear I could feel my heart valves opening and closing, could hear the tiniest sound of Crady squirming in her vinyl seat, could smell the hint of his piney soap wafting in the window, and could see the striations of black, brown and gold in his irises.
“Hey,” I said, my voice husky in spite of trying to clear my throat first. Why was he staring at me?
He looked away from me, up at the school, then around the parking lot. He looked back at me, and kind of shrugged his wide shoulders.
I turned to look at Crady; I’m sure the disbelief was stark on my face.
She gestured with her hands as if pushing me, and nodded so briskly I thought maybe her neck would snap. She mouthed, ‘Go with him!’
“Um, yeah. Sure,” I said to her and zipped my book into my book bag and hefted it off the floor while reaching for the door handle. But Mr. TDH had already opened it, and I stumbled out of the car as if I had just learned to walk yesterday.
He grabbed my hand so that I didn’t do a total face plant, and steadily guided me until I found my feet.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly.
Oh my word.
I did not just say something breathlessly. How embarrassing. I shook my head. I am not one of the Ticks; I do not need to be all ‘helpless female in distress’.
I swallowed and straightened my shoulders. “So, where are you from?” I didn’t croak or squeak. I was cool. Cool as a cucumber. Thanks Mom. I ticked the phrase off my mental list.
“Out east,” He shrugged dismissively. “What’s your name?” He asked me, his voice was deep and resonant.
I bet he had great projection. I didn’t do theater, but if he did, I would try out today.
“I’m Jane. Plain Jane,” I said what I usually do when I introduce myself. I didn’t even think about it anymore; it’s just the way I’ve always introduced myself. The new guy stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me full on.
His eyes darkened and his brows furrowed as he looked at me so intently I thought I might combust.
“Never plain,”
And then the blushing commenced. Curses!
I held his gaze, deciding the only way to overcome the blush was to pretend it wasn’t right now turning my skin as red as a sunburned butt. “Okay,” I said simply and kept walking. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What’s yours?”
“William,” He resumed walking alongside me.
“So, William,” I started. “Are you already registered and stuff, or do you need to go to the office first?”
“My dad registered me online. I just have to get my schedule.”
“Okay then. Follow me,” I said lightly. I felt my skin cooling; my stoicism was working; the blush was fading away. I could do this. And then I thought I heard him say something under his breath. To the ends of the earth? I looked at him, but his attention was focused on the posters on the wall. I must have imagined it.
We resumed walking, me glancing at the posters, wondering what was so danged interesting about them that William was ignoring me now in favor of homecoming announcements, poorly rendered mascot drawings, and such titillating phrases as ‘Seniors Rule!’ With nothing else interesting to say to each other, I resigned myself to admiring him from afar.
His skin was dark, like he spent a lot of time outdoors. I couldn’t figure out where he got such cool clothes to dress his gigantic frame. His shoulders were so broad and it looked like he had muscles on his muscles. The white shirt pulled across his back, accenting his sculpted shoulders. His waist tapered into narrow hips. His jeans were clean, dark and stylish. He walked with the grace of someone much older than a high school kid. He didn’t have the sway and swagger of the football team jocks. He walked more like he was ready to run or something. Yeah, that was it. He looked ready. Ready for what, I could only wonder.
I got William settled at the office and left him there. I could only stand so much…so much…just, so much. I found Crady in the library. When she saw me, her eyes got as big as saucers and she stood up, letting books and papers fall to the floor. I approached her, feeling other eyes on me as well. I ignored the other library patrons and stopped at Crady’s table.
“Well?” She drew out the word with pregnant expectation.
I smirked a little. “What?”
“Well, how hot is he? Was my old man right, or what?” Crady practically jumped up and down on her two-inch platform shoes that were modified sneakers.
Crady’s whole approach to fashion was: if it’s quirky, she likes it. So her stacked sneakers didn’t quite match her army urban camo crop pants didn’t quite match her fuzzy pink sweater with half sleeves didn’t quite match her turquoise butterfly headband. And yet, it worked for her. “What’s his name? Where is he from? Did he kiss you?”
“Crady!” I barked at her, then looked around at curious faces. I lowered my voice. “Geez-oh-Pete, Crady. What kind of oddball question is that?” I sat down and plunked my book bag down on top of her textbooks. “His name is William and he’s from out east. That’s all I know.”
Crady rolled her eyes at me. “For goodness’ sake, Jane. Do I need to hold your hand? Do you even know how to get the goods on somebody? He practically begged you to marry him in the parking lot. In fact, where the heck is he? How could you leave him?” She looked over my shoulder first, then started muttering to herself as she pulled her books out from under my bag. “So hot. So fine. He asks her to lead him around like a puppy dog and she leaves him alone.”
“He did not ask me to marry him. Chill,” I told her. I glanced at the clock in the library and breathed deep of the smell of old paper. I had enough time to finish my reading before the first bell. Except that I’m pretty sure I read the same dang paragraph about fifteen times and then it was time to go to class.
English was first; I could count on Dietrich giving us a pop quiz and I was as ready as I was going to get. That is, until I saw Mr. TDH, er, William, sitting in my desk.
5
Zarastrid’s Log, Day 77
Year of Our Loch 107
The period of isolation is over. All 25 women are in excellent health. They are also in good spirits, as they have enjoyed more food than they’ve ever had access to in their entire lives. One guard didn’t believe us when we told him not to meddle with any of the girls. When he was discovered attempting to ravish one, Zeko ran him through with his forefinger. The Battle Loch is a ferocious soldier, yet strikes me as unstable at times. The show of protection over the women made them even more biddable and cooperative. Sometimes I wonder if they wouldn’t agree to the plan we have for them, but it has been voted by the Coven. We will not tell them of Malleus Bellicus.
Agnes continues to impress me. While the girls are pleasant and rounding out delightfully, Agnes remains aloof. She distrusts our motives. A very wise girl.
I couldn’t resist the impulse, and decided that it may be in the collective best interest to get in her good graces. She has the potential to be a leader among the women. She could very well sway them against us, if it suited her. Therefore I brought a table, an extra chair, and a chesse game to her new cell.
Here is the conversation we shared.
“You remembered,” She said to me with some amusement. She seemed most lively when I was around. Could it be she has an interest in me as a man? The thought both amuses and terrifies me. I haven’t held a woman’s interest in two decades. The interest I have in them always fades after I’m through with them. Something about Agnes is different.
“Of course,” I told her.
“Of course,” She murmured. She seemed to be mocking me. She slowly approached the table as I set up the game. She held each piece reverently in her hands, turning them this way and that, admiring the handiwork. “They are very beautiful. Pieces of art.”
If I had a heart, it would have jumped at the huskiness in her voice. What possessed me to bring the chesse game made of precious woods and gems? The simple carved one would have served the p
urpose just as well. Was I trying to impress her? She was just as impressed by a hearty meal. Yet her appreciation for true art struck a chord inside me.
“Are you going to finger all of the pieces, or choose a side?” I asked her abruptly. She had the ability to get me off balance.
She smiled slowly. “I choose black.”
6
I looked at Mrs. Dietrich, admittedly a little panicked, and she spotted me from over her reading glasses. “Hi Jane! Don’t worry about your seat, just sit behind William,” She went back to her red pencil and stack of papers. I shuffled uncomfortably to my seat, not quite believing that William and I were in the same class. This was the Honors class, after all, and Mrs. Dietrich was pretty strict about whom she let in. I couldn’t decide if I was impressed or annoyed.
I nodded at him.
He glowered at me.
I looked down at my sensible tennis shoes. My whole theory about fashion was that if it was easy to wash and wear, and everything matched everything else, and everything matched jeans, then I was good.
I sat and got out a sharp pencil. I could smell him. It was woodsy and a little sweaty and gosh darn it…very male smelling. How in the heck was I going to be able to pull off this quiz? And then it hit me. William was kind of a dark mysterious figure. Heaven help me.
William turned around in my desk. “Thanks for taking me to the office,” He pretended that I hadn’t ditched him there.
I nodded at him. “Sure,” I tried a small smile too, since I didn’t really intend to come off as all snooty and prejudiced against new people. And in that vein, I realized I should try and make small talk. “So, are you pretty excited to be in a new place?” Dumbest question of all time. I felt the blush start under my armpits. Dang it.
He gave me an odd half-smile. “Well,” He seemed to think over his answer.
“It’s my senior year in high school. We moved from a city of 350,000 to a town of about 7000. And the prettiest girl on campus ditched me at the office,” He stared at me meaningfully.