by Eliza Nolan
"What should I do?" I whispered.
"Just sit here with me for a second. I'll be fine soon and I can go."
"You can't drive like this." He couldn't even open his eyes; if he tried driving home, he might get himself killed. "Come on, let's go inside. I'll call your house and have someone pick you up." I helped him slowly to his feet, and we made our way inside.
"Julia, is that you?" Dad shouted from the kitchen.
Graham squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would block out the volume of Dad's voice.
Crap. Quiet, Dad. I wanted to shout it, but that would probably finish Graham off.
"Julia?" he hollered again.
I led Graham over to the couch, eased him down and hurried towards the sound of Dad's voice.
"Yes," I said in the quietest voice I could manage. He met me half way in the dining room.
"What's wrong?" he said in a booming voice. "Didn't you hear me?"
I held my finger over my lips.
His eyes found Graham in the living room sitting hunched over with his head in his hands.
"Who's that?" he said, no longer yelling, but still alarmed.
"Graham," I whispered. "He was dropping me off when he got a migraine."
"A migraine?" He raised his eyebrows at me.
"Yeah, I need to call his sister to come get him. I don't think he should drive."
"He doesn't look like he can," Dad agreed.
Graham mumbled something I couldn't quite hear, so I went over and crouched in front of him.
"Restroom," he said. His face was pale and sweaty.
I helped him upstairs to the bathroom, where he shut the door so fast I almost didn't make it out of the way.
"What's going on?" Dad had followed us upstairs.
"I think he's getting sick."
"How do you know this guy?"
I couldn't believe it. My friend had a migraine so bad he was getting sick, and Dad wanted to know his history.
I glared at him. "He's Clara's brother. We met at school." I went back downstairs to the living room where I'd left my bag, and dug for my phone.
Dad followed again and towered over me. "How do I know he isn't drunk or high?"
I looked up from my bag, in irritation. That's what he was thinking. No wonder he was acting like a jerk. He had to be one of the most suspicious fathers in the world. "Dad!" I yelled, and then realized I was yelling and lowered my voice. "Why would I be stupid enough to bring someone wasted into the house?"
His face softened as he considered what I'd said. He knew I was right. I might not be the most angelic daughter, but I was certainly not an idiot.
"I'll go see if he needs anything," he said and went back upstairs.
I called Clara, who agreed to come with her mother to pick him up.
After hanging up, I tried to go back upstairs to check on Graham, but Dad stopped me on the steps. "Don't go up there." I waited for an explanation, but instead he went into the kitchen and came out with a glass of ice water.
"Why can't I go up there? Is he okay?"
"He'll be okay. He actually asked me to keep you out here. He doesn't want you to see him like this." Dad patted my shoulder before going back upstairs.
I plopped down on the couch and rested my chin on my hands. So Graham didn't want me to see him. Why would he make me stay away when he was in so much pain? I didn't know how migraines worked, but I was sure if I could at least hold his hand or something it might help.
Dad came back down. "Did you call his sister?"
"She and her mom are on their way. Wouldn't he be more comfortable laying down here?" I asked. "I can go hang out in my room, if he really doesn't want me to see him."
"He's in your room," Dad said.
Wait...what? I covered my face with my hands. "He's in my room? How could you put him there, Dad? Why would you put him in there?" My room was hideous, I hadn't cleaned it in…I didn't even know how long.
"He needed to lie down and your room was closest. Besides, he's in so much pain right now, he won't even notice what a pigsty it is."
"So it is a mess, then?"
"He really won't remember," Dad assured me. "I'm going to go check on him again. Come get me when his mother and sister get here."
I sat back down and waited for what seemed like an eternity until there was a quiet knock. I pulled myself up and opened the door.
Clara was with a tall slender woman who wore a fitted dress. Her eyes were the same blue as Graham's. Her forehead wrinkled with worry.
"Hi, Julia," Clara said softly. "This is my mother, Jan."
"Nice to meet you, Julia. How is he?" she said.
"I'm not sure," I answered. "He's upstairs with my dad. He said he doesn't want me in there."
Clara put a hand on my arm. "He doesn't want you to see him in pain is all. You know how he likes to be all protective and manly. He doesn't want us to think he could ever be vulnerable." She winked.
"I know, but I feel like I could maybe help if I were there." Down here, I was useless. "Anyway, he's upstairs, it's the last door on the right." I slunk back down on the couch and waited as they went to get Graham.
A few minutes later Graham came downstairs under his own steam, but he was hunched over, his eyelids heavy.
He dragged himself over and surprised me by sitting down beside me. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me into his chest. He was the one who was sick and yet was trying to console me. It didn't make any sense. But still I found comfort in his embrace. I rested against his warm, firm chest and just sat there enjoying the feel of him holding me.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. "I promise I will figure this out, Julia."
"Just get some rest," I said.
"I'll get better." He got up and joined his sister and mother at the front door.
"See you tomorrow," Clara whispered.
They left.
The clock on the mantle said it was already ten.
Dad sat down next to me. "You okay?"
I sighed. "I'm exhausted."
"You should be. You've had one hectic weekend."
I couldn't argue with him there. "I think I need to go to bed."
I dragged myself upstairs, fell into bed, and barely got my shoes off before I was out.
* * *
Fire burns in the pit next to the stone altar. Another young man kneels on the ground in front of the cloaked men. This one is tall and lanky. The outline of his ribs are visible, even in the dim firelight. One of the men gives the guy a drink from the chalice and within moments he's having a hard time staying upright.
I strain to see the cloaked men. I want to know which one is Graham. But I can't see their faces. It's too dark.
"Hey."
My heart jumps in my throat at the sound of a voice next to my ear. I turn slowly, afraid to see who has managed to sneak up on me. It's Aydan. I sigh, relaxing a little. "What are you doing here?" I whisper.
"Why are you whispering?"
I wince at the volume of her voice and check to make sure the guys in the clearing didn't hear.
"Keep it down. I don't want them to see us."
"They can't," she says. "Well, maybe the shirtless guy can, but they'll all think he's hallucinating."
None of them appear to have heard her. Maybe she's right. "Okay, so, you said you were my guide, right? Are you my guide for this kind of stuff?" I gesture towards the ritual happening before us. "I mean, can you tell me what they're doing?"
She nods. "They think they're initiating another Beshi."
"What does that mean?"
"They're missing one of the ones from the original group. They need all five in order to begin the next step. But don't worry, this won't work. They can't do anything without the original five."
"What would I be worried about?"
The boy cries out and I turn to look without thinking. They cut into his chest, blood drips from the open wounds. He collapses on the ground, and with hardly a look the men lea
ve him, shuffling away down a path at the other end of the clearing.
When I turn back to face Aydan, she's gone. Seriously? She needs to stop disappearing on me.
The boy in the clearing rolls over on his back and babbles to himself as he bats at something invisible above his head.
I walk closer. Maybe I can talk to him if he can see me - and still speak in complete sentences that is.
When I stand above him, his eyes lock on me and he says, "Big bad kitty cat. Get it!" He swats the air between us, fingers curled up tight against the pads of his hands. "MEROWWW"
This promises to be a fabulous conversation. I try to think of the simplest way to phrase my question. He's so messed up I'm sure he won't understand.
"Why…" I start.
"Because," he says before I can finish, "Kitty was lonely, and he came and asked if Kitty wanted to play a game. Kitty wanted to play." His voice is high like a child's, his eyes open wide to match his massive grin.
His eyes lose some of their sparkle. "But he wasn't playing a game, it was real! So Kitty tried to leave. But he said, 'you can't leave or I'll kill your family and devour your soul.'"
Chapter Ten
The security guard handed back my bag, and I headed towards my locker. My mind wrestled with questions from last night's dream. Was Graham one of these so called "Beshi"? And who the heck was this guy that wanted to eat "Kitty's" soul? Maybe that part was regular old dream, there was no way that was real. I ran my fingers through my hair. I was too tired to think about it.
A hand slipped into mine making me jump.
Graham squeezed my hand and smirked. "A little jumpy today?"
"I guess. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Me neither."
His face was pale and darkness circled his eyes, but he still looked wonderful.
"How are you?" I asked.
"I could use another day in bed." He took a deep breath and let it out slow.
"Why didn't you stay home and rest?" I asked. I crossed my fingers, selfishly hoping he wouldn't take my suggestion seriously. Being at school was better with him there.
"Because you're not there." He pulled me around to face him.
I reached up and instinctively put my fingertips on his temples. His skin was hot, and my hands tingled as I touched him. As the prickling sensation in my fingers got stronger, Graham closed his eyes and the pain washed away from his face. He drew in a long relaxed breath.
"Whatever you're doing, Julia, it's amazing." As he spoke, the sensation faded away. He opened his eyes.
"What was that?" he asked.
"I don't know." I examined my hands. They looked normal, but as I stood there, the hallway started spinning. Graham wrapped his arm around my waist and caught me as my legs gave out. I pulled air deep into my lungs, slow and steady, and the world finally came back into balance.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." I regained my footing. "Did you feel that?"
Graham nodded. "It was like a million tiny pinpricks. But it somehow took away my pain. My migraine's gone."
We stared at each other, not sure what just happened.
My bag slipped down from my shoulder and crashed to the floor, pulling me back to reality.
Before I could bend down, Libby came out of nowhere, scooped it up, and handed it back to me in one swift movement. I reached out to accept it, confused by her kindness. The last time I'd interacted with Libby, she threatened to come after me, and now this?
"Thank you," I said. The words came out automatically, but felt strange being directed at Libby, who had never, in all the years I'd known her, done anything nice for me.
"No problem," she said and dashed off down the hall.
"Weird," I said.
"What?" Graham asked.
"Something's going on with Libby. I can't remember a time she's been nice to me. Ever."
"You're having psychic dreams and healing migraines, and you think Libby being nice is weird?"
Maybe he had a point, but in my mind, all of it was messed up. Libby included.
Graham squeezed my hand, alerting me to Clara and Nate's approach. "Let's keep the weirdness to ourselves for now, okay? Just until we know what's going on," he whispered into my ear.
I sighed at his breath on my skin. I could do secret. Hell, I didn't even know what was going on myself, what would I tell them?
"Hey, how's it going?" Clara said.
Graham smirked. "Libby was just nice to Julia, so she thinks there must be something wrong with her."
"That is weird," Nate said.
"Thank you," I said. "See, I'm not losing my mind. Status quo dictates that she be a bitch. If she is not, there must be something wrong." I glanced back over my shoulder in the direction Libby had gone. More than just being nice, something weird was going on with that girl. First, she'd gone all weird and threatened me the other day, and now this? A slight chill of paranoia crept over me as I followed the others to class.
* * *
I slumped over my government notes at my desk, my head in a blur. Morning had been a struggle, and the afternoon wasn't going much better.
Psychic dreams and healing powers? Magic wasn't real. And even if it was, I wasn't a witch or a pixie. As far as I could tell, this was all new. It was all just too much and I didn't want to think about any of it. I just wanted to curl up in Graham's arms and pretend it wasn't happening.
The bell rang signaling the end of fourth period. I crammed my notes in my bag and found Graham waiting for me at the door, smiling.
"Hey," I said as a smile found its way onto my face.
"Hey." He took my hand and led me out into the hallway, pulling me off to the side. I looked up into his eyes. Graham returned my gaze, and it no longer mattered that we were in a hall packed with students; we were the only two people in the whole world.
"Get a room," someone shouted, breaking the magic. Jerk.
I bit my lip. "We should probably get to class."
He nodded. "Let me take your bag."
We both reached for the bag on my shoulder, but I stopped. An eerie feeling swept over me. Someone was watching me. My head drummed and the noise of the hall faded. I turned to find Libby a ways down the hall, staring at me. Her friends stood around her, joking around and laughing with each other, but it was like a soundproof wall had been erected around her. She didn't see or hear any of them.
She only saw me.
Our eyes locked, but she didn't turn away. Panic spread up my neck. She didn't even look pissed. In fact, her appearance was terrible. Fear and exhaustion painted her expression.
I tugged on Graham's sleeve to make him look up at her. As soon as he did, she turned away.
"What?" Graham asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "I thought Libby was staring at us."
But Libby had done a one-eighty and was now in deep conversation with her friends. She was acting like the normal, obnoxiously popular Libby once again.
* * *
That night after dinner, I sat down at my desk and turned on my laptop. Question upon question bounced around my head, and even though Graham was finally talking, he didn't seem to have the answers. Aydan had given me some clues, but it was hard to get straight answers from her, even when she was around. And that was assuming she was real. She could just be a character my subconscious made up; after all, I'd only ever talked to her in my dreams.
I pulled out a pen and piece of paper to make a list of items to search. I scribbled down secret societies, but what else had Graham talked about? He said it all started when they found the book. So the book was the key.
He'd found the book in an old Charleston family house, and that had to mean something. There was the phoenix on the cover and on Graham's arm. I wracked my brain for any other details, but came up empty. I looked at my small list.
Secret Society
Charleston
Phoenix
My search for secret societies brought up a large number of conspiracy theo
ry websites. Most talked about how secret societies were on their way to taking over the world or had already done so. A little paranoid, but whatever.
I finally found a website that had more information about how a secret society worked.
Secret societies center on a secret truth that promises something more than the member would get out of a normal life. Many secret societies have different levels, and only the people in the innermost circle are aware of the whole truth of the secrets.
Did that mean, even if Graham didn't know why I was dreaming about them, someone else in their group might? If someone else knew about my dreams, what else did they know? Did they know who I was? I shivered at the thought.
I searched for more information on different types of secret societies. Most websites mentioned the Masons, Skull and Bones, and the Illuminati, but none of them mentioned a "Phoenix" group.
I searched for Phoenix, but only read what I already knew. A mythical bird, nothing more.
Finally, I looked up Charleston. The city was a veritable hotbed of secret society activity around the time our country was founded. The timing meant there certainly could've been one of Graham's friend's ancestors involved. If only I'd asked him for Jack's last name.
When I'd pretty much tapped out all possible search combinations, I logged off my computer and turned in.
* * *
The full moon hangs low over the deserted clearing. The fire pit is filled with cold ash. The only sounds are the buzzing insects and the croaking toads. I cross the clearing and follow a path that winds around through the trees until it comes to a grand mansion; a single structure surrounded by forest. Made of large, jagged stones, the building looks as old as the church ruins I'd seen before. Only much larger and very well-maintained. There are lights on inside.
Some twenty luxury cars are parked out front. All of them are freshly washed and shine in the moonlight.
A car pulls up from a small paved road across the lot. Its headlights almost give me away, but I dive behind a bush just in time. A man emerges from the car and walks up to the door where he exchanges words with two men before they let him inside.
I slip around to the back of the house and peer in a window on the first floor. Through a gap in the drapes a group of men gather. Most of them wear nice suits - tailor-made, and expensive. The men stand in a loose circle around five guys in black cloaks. Through the closed window, the low hum of conversation reaches me, but I can't make out what they're saying.