by Mary Lindsey
Not now.
I took a deep breath and caught Clarice staring again. She immediately blushed and looked away. I wondered why I had never noticed her before. Probably because I was so focused on my job and only watched my mentoring pair. She was the total opposite of Vivienne. Her tanned skin and golden hair gave her the healthy look common to the girls at this school. I glanced over again, and she smiled at me before looking away.
In an unexpected burst, fear surged from Vivienne. She sat bolt upright and trembled. With the exception of Clarice, we were the only students at the back of the room, so no one else noticed. Not yet, anyway. The timing was terrible. There were still fifteen minutes of class left.
Vivienne turned and stared at me with huge, terrified green eyes.
I touched her shoulder and concentrated on silently sending her calming energy, but it didn’t work. She made a squeaking sound in her throat and clutched her pen so tightly, her knuckles went white.
“We can’t let the class know what’s going on,” I said. She nodded.
A quick glance at Clarice confirmed she was watching and was about to blow the whistle on us.
“She’s okay,” I told her. “It happens sometimes and will stop soon. It’s kind of like a seizure. Just stay quiet, okay?”
Clarice nodded.
Vivienne twisted around in her chair to face me and grabbed my wrist so hard it hurt. The pen she was holding snapped with a crack. Gasping, she closed her eyes and shuddered. She moved her arm, smearing blood across the surface of my desk. She was under attack from a Malevolent.
“Keep it out of your body,” I whispered, grabbing my jacket from under my chair. I only had two choices at this point: I could soul-share and keep the demon out, which would keep Vivienne safe but put my body in a terrible position and alarm the whole class, or I could haul her from the room and protect her in private, causing a scene but not revealing the IC. Detention was better than discontinuance; my choice was obvious.
I wrapped my jacket around her forearm to absorb the blood and cover the wound, then stood, keeping my hand on the jacket so it would remain in place. The metallic scraping of my chair on the floor seemed overly loud. I pulled Vivienne to her feet. Ms. Mueller said something, but I didn’t even hear her over the fear and panic streaming from Vivienne.
Leaving our backpacks behind, I pulled Vivienne to the door. “She’s sick,” I said, not sure if my voice was audible. “I’ll come back for our things.”
Once outside the classroom door, I picked Vivienne up, ran to a storage closet near the end of the hallway, and flung it open. After shoving some mops and brooms out of the way, I shut the door. The only light was from under the gap at the bottom of the door that let light in from the hallway. We stood speechless for a while, catching our breaths. The musty, sour air made my nose burn.
“Do we need to soul-share?” I asked.
“No,” Vivienne answered, still out of breath. “It’s gone.”
“Are you sure?”
I could feel her fear subsiding, and she felt more like herself emotionally. “Positive.”
After a short while, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could almost make out her face. “Are you okay?”
“What the hell was that?” she said. “That was nothing like Ethan.”
I flipped the light switch. “I know.” I unwrapped my jacket and examined her arm in the dim light provided by the bare lightbulb that hung just above our heads by a wire. The bulb was swinging, probably from being knocked by one of the brooms I’d shoved aside, which made it feel like the room was swaying. “The cuts are deep,” I remarked, pushing down my nausea. The Malevolent had carved letters in her flesh, just like the attack on Lenzi. I yanked some stiff brown paper towels off a roll sitting on top of a box and wrapped them around her arm. The blood soaked through almost immediately. “We’ve got to get to my car for my medical kit. Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
I wrapped her arm with another round of towels. “Let’s go. We’ve got to stop the bleeding.” I opened the door and peeked out, then jerked back and closed the door immediately.
“What’s wrong, Paul?”
“Stay here. I’ll come get you when the coast is clear.”
Her fear spiked again. “What is it?”
“Ms. Mueller. She’s waiting in the hallway for us. Just stay here.” I slipped out the door, leaving Vivienne alone in the dimly lit, foul-smelling janitor’s closet.
“I hope you can explain yourself, Mr. Blackwell,” Ms. Mueller said, her arms across her chest.
I hoped so too. “Vivienne and I know each other. She sometimes has spells like seizures. They’re rare, but they embarrass her. I got her out of the room before she lost control.”
She lifted an eyebrow. She wasn’t buying it. “What about the blood all over the desk?”
“Nosebleed. They sometimes accompany the seizures.” Pulling on all my training, I stood perfectly still, maintaining eye contact.
Her eyes narrowed. “We need to take her to the nurse’s office to be examined. The school has a responsibility for her welfare.”
God. That would totally blow our cover. The nurse would get one look at the words carved in her skin, and all hell would break loose. “Please, Ms. Mueller. She’s really shy about it. Let me just get her home, and she’ll be okay.”
She rolled her eyes. “That girl isn’t shy about anything.”
“You don’t know much about her, ma’am.” Neither did I, really. “Appearances are deceiving.” I could tell from her hand- wringing and the fact she was biting her lip that she was considering my words. Maybe she would let it go. “Please. I know what I’m talking about.” The bell rang and students flooded into the hallway. “School is out for the day. Just let me take her straight home.”
Clarice strode up to Ms. Mueller. “I brought their things, like you asked.”
Ms. Mueller didn’t break eye contact with me, and I held my breath for her decision. Wordlessly, she turned and lumbered back toward her classroom. I let out the breath I’d been holding and fought the urge to whoop and pump my fist in the air. She was letting us go.
I grinned at Clarice, who blushed. “Thanks for bringing our stuff.” I took our backpacks and Vivienne’s jacket from her. “See you tomorrow.” She stood there as if she wanted to say something, but smiled and nodded instead.
I tapped lightly on the door before opening it so I didn’t startle Vivienne.
“What happened to you?” she asked. “This closet smells like barf, and my arm hurts. I want to get out of this place.”
“Me too.” I slung both of our backpacks over my shoulder and scanned the hall. Ms. Mueller was nowhere in sight. I slid Vivienne’s jacket sleeve over the paper towels wrapped around her hurt arm, and she put it on the rest of the way. Then I grabbed mine from the closet floor, where I’d dropped it.
“Sorry about your jacket,” she said.
“It’ll wash. Sorry about your arm.”
“It’ll heal.” A twinge of sorrow washed from her to me, and she studied my face for a moment with those clear emerald eyes.
“We need to get you out of here and make sure you’re okay.” I took her good hand. She started to pull away, but I held fast. “We need to stay together. The hallway is crowded. If you’re attacked again, I need to be able to protect you. At least for today.” Until a new Protector is chosen to replace me. Again, a wave of Vivienne’s sorrow washed through me, this time tinged with anger. Speaker before self, I chanted internally, relying on the words from the IC manual to keep me from breaking down and doing something stupid—like begging her to reconsider.
TWELVE
We pushed our way through the sea of students until they finally thinned out on the sidewalk to the parking lot. Vivienne pulled her hand from mine and stopped short.
I felt no fear from her, but did
n’t understand why she stopped. Wordlessly, I waited in case she was hearing a Hindered or Malevolent. She simply stood there, staring at me.
“What is it?” I asked. “Do you hear something?”
“What? No. I . . .” A group of laughing girls broke apart to pass us on both sides. Some of them turned around to stare at Vivienne. I’d become accustomed to her appearance, but she was new to the students here. She took a big breath. “I have a ride home. Thanks for helping me.”
“No. You need stitches.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got this. Sorry for the trouble.” She stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street to the parking lot.
Sorry for the trouble! Like a fish out of water, I stood opening and closing my mouth, fighting for breath. Once I collected my wits, I sprinted after her and caught up just in time to see her climbing into Race’s truck. Her emotions were a tangled up mess, just like mine. She didn’t look up, but as Race pulled out, he spotted me. He didn’t wave or even give me his typical smirk. He just met my eyes with a somber look, then drove away with the girl who should have been my Speaker. At least I knew her injuries would be treated, and he’d do a better job than I would, for sure. This is for the best, I told myself. She didn’t want me anyway. Prolonging the inevitable would only mess me up.
I rubbed my stinging neck and trudged to my car, still lugging both backpacks and my bloodstained jacket. The rain started right as I closed my car door. It came down in sheets, cocooning me in a safe, private, gray world that smelled like leather and familiarity. I tilted my seat back and closed my eyes, keys still in my lap, and decided to allow sleep to take me away from reality for just a moment.
I was awakened by banging. The rain had stopped, and it was dark outside. I was still in my car in the school parking lot, and Charles’s Bentley was parked in the next spot. Cinda knocked again, and I sat up, shaking my head to clear it. I glanced at my watch. I’d been here for hours. Crap. Charles had been out looking for me. I buried my face in my hands, and Cinda knocked again. I pushed on the window button, but nothing happened. I reached into my lap to put the keys in the ignition so I could lower it, but they had slid off and were nowhere to be found. I unlocked the door manually and opened it.
“You okay?” she asked, pulling the door open the whole way.
“Yeah, I . . .” I leaned over to look for the keys on the floorboard. “I fell asleep, I guess.” When I straightened, I smacked the side of my head on the steering wheel.
“Charles isn’t happy. Where’s your phone?”
Still groggy, I stepped out of my car and grabbed the keys from my seat, where they had evidently slid off of my leg. “My phone is in my backpack.” Which was sitting on the seat under Vivienne’s. My chest pinched.
She put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t answer it. Charles has been trying to reach you forever.”
I stepped over to Charles’s car, and he lowered the window, phone to his ear. “Yes, we found him. He appears to be fine. Thank you, Horace.” He set his phone on his dash and stared at me.
I placed my hand on the passenger door and spoke to him through the open window. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’ve said that a lot recently.”
I deserved that. “Yes, sir, I have. I fell asleep. My ringer was still off from class. I forgot to turn it on.”
“You were distracted,” he said. “That’s not like you.”
I stared at the lights on his dash, unable to come up with a suitable response.
“Distraction will get you killed in this business, Paul.” I straightened and stepped back when he raised the window partway. “So will jumping to conclusions. Protectors are supposed to apply logic to discover effective strategies and truths. It is the IC’s job to guide and support you, not provide you with the answers.” Without looking at me again, he closed the window and drove away.
I’d prided myself on order and reliability. Alden and Race had teased me for being a walking rule book. Now it seemed like I was always in trouble, and I couldn’t get my footing. My ordered, rule-oriented life had fallen into chaos. No, my life hadn’t fallen anywhere. Vivienne had entered it.
I rubbed the back of my neck again. “Dammit!” I shouted.
Cinda cleared her throat.
I had been so wrapped up in my self-pity, I’d forgotten about her. “Sorry.”
She was leaning against the trunk. “You okay to drive?”
“Sure.” I walked around and opened the passenger door for her. I took my phone out of my backpack, slid it into my pocket, then pitched my jacket and both packs into the backseat. She paused a moment before getting in. “You make no sense at all.” She slid into the seat.
“What are you talking about?” I propped my elbow on the roof of the car and waited for her answer.
“For example, you just opened the door for me.” She snapped her belt. “You’re all manners and professionalism with me and Charles, but such a jerk to Vivienne.”
“I am not a jerk to Vivienne.”
She reached over and grabbed the door handle. I jumped out of the way before she slammed it on me.
This was ridiculous. Cinda had been mad about my treatment of Vivienne yesterday too. I’d done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I stomped around the back of the car and jerked my door open. “What did she tell you I did?”
“Nothing.”
I got in the car and put on my seat belt. “Nothing. How does that make me a jerk?”
She turned in the seat to face me. “You were rude to her. You told her to leave and made her cry.”
“She was already leaving! Ouch.” I put my palm over the back of my neck.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I flipped my visor down and opened the lighted mirror, craning my neck in an effort to see what was stinging my neck so badly. “I think I got into some poison ivy or something at that farmhouse when we were hiding in the bushes. Maybe it’s a spider bite.”
Her jaw dropped. Literally, her mouth hung open like she’d been stupefied.
“What?” I asked, snapping the mirror shut and putting the visor up.
And then she laughed. Really laughed until I became uncomfortable.
“What’s so funny?”
She grabbed her stomach. “You!”
I put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car. “My pain is amusing?”
That set her off into another round of giggles. “Yes!”
I shook my head and started the car. Clearly she was unreasonable—or nuts—or both. Taking a deep breath, I put the car in gear.
“No, wait,” she said, touching my arm. She calmed and composed herself. “I’m sorry, but it’s kinda funny.”
“Obviously.” I shifted back into park and stared straight ahead at my new school.
“You are totally clueless, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Obviously, I was, because I found nothing humorous about being bitten by a bug or stung by a poisonous plant. I turned the car off and waited for her to elaborate on my cluelessness.
“Vivienne didn’t leave that night to get away from you. Her grandmother had gotten into town, and she went to her new home to be with her. The timing was bad, but it couldn’t be helped.”
Still not looking at her, I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. “Staying wouldn’t have mattered after . . .”
“After what?”
I dropped my hands from the wheel and looked over at her. “After what she did in Galveston.”
Her gaze was intense. “Yes. It didn’t matter where she was after that.”
“So how does that make me the bad guy? She ended it. She’s the one who quit trying, not me. She’s the jerk.” I started the car again before I got emotional. Driving was rule oriented. I could focus on that.
“Wait just a minute. What do you think Vivienne did in
Galveston?”
“She severed our partnership. She rejected me as her Protector.”
Cinda gasped, and I took my hand off the gearshift.
She shook her head, stunned. I could feel her shock, even though she was so new and it was hard to read her emotions.
“No,” she said in almost a whisper. “That’s not what happened at all.” Then a big grin spread across her face. “Wow. No wonder Charles was pissed at you.”
I drew in air though my teeth with a hiss as my neck felt like it had erupted in flames.
“She must be upset too for it to hurt that much. It’ll stop hurting when you stop fighting it,” Cinda said.
She was making no sense at all. “What are you talking about?”
Cinda punched me on the shoulder. Hard. “Her neck burns too.” She gave a half laugh. “She didn’t reject you that day in Galveston, Paul. She accepted you. She got her soul brand. Your neck burns because your brand is coming to the surface.”
It was a good thing I wasn’t driving, or I’d have wrecked the car. The burning was my soul brand activating. I’d gotten it when I was ten and was unconscious when it happened. I had never even known where it was.
“She tied her soul to yours for lifetimes and then you told her to leave. She thought you were mad at her and unhappy to be bound to her.”
I covered my face, horrified. I was so certain she had rejected me, I saw no other possibilities. I had jumped to conclusions—the wrong conclusions. Instead of the ultimate rejection, she had given me the ultimate acceptance, which must have been terrifying for her. Then, after she had jumped in with both feet, I cut her off at the knees and told her to leave. “Oh, God. I’m such a jerk.”
THIRTEEN
21st-Century Cycle, Journal Entry 5:
Things are progressing normally.
Paul Blackwell—Protector 993