Ashes

by P. M. Briede

  Unable to stop myself, I giggled and kissed his nose. I put my hands behind my back to untangle his arms and was successful in sitting up. “We should probably get inside before we get caught.” I stood, offered him a hand up, and we entered Paige’s house hand in hand.

  Just as we closed the door, Paige met us in the kitchen. “There you two are,” she said with a forced calm. She was white and her eyes were wide. Not saying another word, she spun on her heel and retreated out of the doorway she’d just run through. I could hear the sounds of a TV, so we quickly followed her into the den.

  “Tragedy struck this morning as multiple shootings broke out at Labor Day parades around the country. New York, Pittsburgh, Kensington, and Garland all reported mass shootings. Right now there are no confirmed deaths but countless injured who are being treated on site or being rushed to local hospitals. Authorities are unsure if the shootings are related, but as of yet haven’t ruled anything out. We will continue to keep you updated as this story unfolds.” Paige had rewound the receiver to where the story broke, starting it again when Olivier and I entered the room. The images on the screen were horrific, though unfortunately nothing new.

  By this time, I was clutching Olivier’s arm with the hand that wasn’t already gripped in his. Paige kept alternating her attention between the news anchor, Olivier, and I. It was obvious Paige thought this was the beginning of what Tristan and Wesley had been talking about for the exiles. Carnage, especially from firearms, always seemed to polarize the country. Having four similar, simultaneous shootings in four different cities seemed like more than sheer coincidence. My thoughts were in line with Paige’s, but looking at Olivier I couldn’t tell if he agreed with our unspoken assumptions.

  Olivier wrapped a comforting arm around me. “It seems like a normal day in America, Paige,” he observed.

  Our thoughts collided as Paige and I both sought to rebuke him. “Surely you don’t think that, Olivier?” I said calmly.

  But my words were lost underneath her fuming. “You’re kidding, right?! Four shootings of this nature in four different cities and all you have to say is ‘just a normal day?’”

  Before Olivier could answer cell phones started ringing and vibrating out of control, which never happens for a good reason. My pockets were empty so I just stood there, looking at Olivier and Paige expectantly as they both answered their burner phones.

  “We’re all here,” I heard Paige say, dumbfounded. “Yes, I’m getting there now.” She moved the feed to show what was now being reported live.

  “She’s right here. … Calm down, we’re all fine,” Olivier said in a monotone as he handed his phone to me.

  Moving to put the phone to my ear, I froze before it got there. An update broke over the prerecorded news segment to report another shooting at the parade in the heart of downtown New Orleans. This time the feed was live and you could hear the rat-ta-tat-tat of gunfire. The field anchor was huddled behind the news van reporting that the gunfire seemed to be coming from multiple directions and police were working strategically to get people to safety. His incessant “everyone needs to remain calm” vexed me because the people who truly needed that information most weren’t exactly watching the news at the given moment.

  A hollow “Charlotte” kept calling out over the noise of the TV, making it eerily like I was there on Canal Street. I vaguely realized Olivier was talking with someone on his everyday cell. When the blood splattered from either the anchor or cameraman getting shot, my stomach flipped and had I had breakfast, I would have lost it. Whatever had been in my hand fell and shattered against Paige’s hardwood floors. The picture went black and that was when I blinked and took in the chaos taking place in the house.

  Olivier and Paige were racing through the rooms, cell phones firmly planted in their ears. Paige’s oldest son, Spencer, was standing beside me and it took me a moment to comprehend he was not only saying my name but also trying desperately to put something in my hand. Finally, the words sunk in. “Aunt Charlotte, it’s Uncle Wesley. He says it’s urgent that he talk to you.”

  I took the phone and ran back out to the backyard, to the relative stillness, throwing myself on the swing. His name was the only thing I got to say. “God, Charlotte!” Anxiety laced Wesley’s voice, making it shrill. “You gave me a heart attack. Are you alright?” He didn’t pause to allow me to answer. “Never mind, they called us to inform us of all the shootings. We just got word that the school’s band was in the midst of the scene. Students are down and I was petrified Cheval and you were there.” Everything he said afterward I didn’t hear. We were supposed to be there but Max, my boss, refused to let us go, what with my attackers being out and Detective Winters saying I needed to avoid crowds.

  “Oh, my God!” I exclaimed. “Max and Liam are there for us, have you heard anything? Wait, you said they were down? How many? How bad? What do you know?” The questions came rapid fire with no time for an answer before I posed the next. My heart was racing from worry, for our students, for their families, for my friends. The breaths were harder to take and I quickly found myself hyperventilating.

  “LOVE!” His raised voice acted as a defibrillator for my lungs, so to speak. The shock caused me to take the deep breath I needed to keep from passing out. “That’s it, breathe with me, Charlotte.” Instructing me as if we were in a birthing room, Wesley helped me regain control. “I don’t know anything else. From the images we’ve seen, people are just on the ground. We don’t know if they were shot or are trying to take cover. Look, I’ve got to go but I needed to hear your voice. I’ll keep you posted and the campaign is headed home. We should be there tonight. I love you.”

  I had just enough time to say the words back before the line was dead. Olivier burst through the door and ran to me. “Charlotte, we have to go. Paige and I are going to the scene. I’m going to try and help as many as I can. The police are going to escort you and the boys to the school. I’ve talked with Max. He’s okay as well as the bulk of our students but he wants the school closed tomorrow. He needs you to handle the logistics of getting in touch with the families.”

  It took me longer than normal to process all Olivier had said. When I asked how he was going to help he shifted. His crooked nose straightened. His face grew longer. His hair became shorter and turned black and his skin took on an olive hue. It was a minute before I recognized the face Olivier now wore. It was the one I’d named Jeff from after the attack. Olivier answered the question in my eyes. “You’ve already given me a backstory with the police. Paige can get me close to my students.” It wasn’t until he took me by the shoulders that I realized I was shaking uncontrollably. “Charlotte, it’s going to be okay. But Paige and I have to get going. Do not leave the school until Breaux or I get there. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, you think you’re going to be that long? Why do we have to go to the school?” I asked when I finally found my voice as Olivier shifted back to the face I knew.

  His arm slid around my neck as Olivier kissed my forehead. “Carissime, you’d never forgive me if I left Paige in the midst of all that bedlam and something happened to her. I’d never forgive myself. You’ll be safe at the school. The house is a logistical nightmare for one patrolman to guard. With everything going on downtown there isn’t anyone to spare to keep you safe. Keep the boys with you and barricade yourself in your office. I hate that I have to choose. I know I’ve said I’d always be there to protect you. But I know you, of all people, understand why I have to choose Paige, choose our students. I have to go. Look out for yourself. I need to have you to come back to.”

  Before Olivier could slip away from me and submerse himself in danger to protect my friend, I caught his neck and kissed his lips. “You look out for yourself, charissimus, and make sure to come back to me.”

  A quick smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Immortal, remember? No matter what, I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you.” Then he was gone.

  Looking up at the sky, I
took a moment to clear the unshed tears from my eyes. I needed the appearance of calm, cool, and collected for the boys. Once in the house I called for them and grabbed the keys to my car. When they came shuffling into the kitchen I asked if they’d heard about what happened. They confirmed Paige had told them and they were under strict instructions to stay with me and behave.

  “Good. You boys all have something to keep you occupied?” I asked in a steady voice. “Sounds like we are going to be at the school for a while.” They all nodded and held up their backpacks. As I herded them to the car the twins argued that we were supposed to ride in the patrol car. Leave it to them to sound disappointed about not getting to ride in the backseat of the “paddy wagon,” as they kept calling it. “Olivier said they were escorting us and I’m not comfortable not having the ability to leave if we need too. So stop your belly aching and get in the car.”

  I ran upstairs to grab my purse and phones. The books from Wesley were on the bedside table so I snatched them too. I raced out the door, running into Spencer. After I apologized for not seeing him, he handed me a box and a key. “Mom said to give this to you when Colter and Deacon weren’t looking. It’s her spare gun. I’m supposed to tell you that if you’re not comfortable with it that it’s okay if I keep it. She’s been taking me to the shooting range and I know how to handle it but she wanted it to be your choice.”

  Seizing the box, I threw it into my briefcase along with the books. I didn’t have time to deal with it right now. Once we were in the car and backing out of the driveway, the police officer on duty jogged up to my window. I rolled it down. “Mrs. Grace, I’m sorry, ma’am, but Lt. Lochs told me I’m supposed to escort you and the boys to Armstrong Academy and see you to your office.”

  Unwilling to be stranded at the school I pounced on his phrasing. “Yes, I was told that as well. But we both know an escort doesn’t mean you have to chauffer us. I’ll drive slowly enough so you can keep up.” Not granting him the opportunity to disagree I rolled up the window and continued backing out.

  When we got to the school I shepherded the boys to my office. It’s spacious enough that the four of us should be comfortable. I have a small refrigerator with fruit and cheese and things in it, along with a couple of snacks stashed in some of the cabinets. We’d have enough to get through the day without going hungry. Our police escort planted himself in my waiting area. The twins pounced on the chess set in front of the panoramic window view of the city. “Nice digs, Aunt Charlotte,” Colter announced. Spencer dropped into the loveseat and pulled out a history textbook to start studying.

  After locking the office door I sat at my desk and logged onto my computer. Pulling up the local news reports first, I went searching for any information about the New Orleans shooting. While I was waiting for the page to load I glanced at the time and saw that just forty-five minutes had passed since Olivier and I had woken up in Paige’s backyard. I’d never understand time. How a minute felt like a lifetime during a crisis or how hours flew by like seconds when you didn’t want a good time to end. It was a flabbergasting phenomenon.

  Reading the articles, I learned while there were serious injuries, no one had been reported dead. However, there were still many missing. It had been the cameraman who’d been shot this morning and the news network was reporting he was in critical condition. The shooting had stopped for the moment but the shooter was still at large. Digging into the reports for the other cities, the story was about the same. They reported a few deaths, many critically injured, the shooting had stopped, but the shooter hadn’t been caught. The public outcry tagged in comments to each story was what I’d anticipated, divided.

  When I could no longer stomach the gruesome pictures or heartbreaking stories or hostile bickering of the public, I got into my email to get out the cancellation notifications. I notified the news networks, school district, and transportation department as well, so hopefully no one would miss the communication. Then I put together our public statement about those caught in the crossfire and our sympathy and support for all those injured in the melee.

  I’d only gotten one update from Olivier saying all our students were accounted for and some were in the hospital but everyone should be alright. It was a freaking miracle, so I said a quick prayer of thanks. Olivier was sticking with Paige until all the evidence had been collected. Since there was a mountain of it there was no timeline on when they’d be done.

  The clock on the bookcase, clicked away the minutes as the morning dragged into the afternoon. Around three, the twins stretched out on the floor and fell asleep. When I heard their gentle snores, I laughed internally. Only boys could do that, just fall asleep anywhere. Spencer was on my computer playing some games and I was reading the Jane Austen book Wesley had given to me on the loveseat. I set it aside to check on our patrolman. He said he didn’t need any food or water or anything, but he did need a personal minute and asked me where the restroom was. After giving him directions and with the twins still out, I took that time to unlock the semi-automatic pistol and load the magazine. Just as I was about to put it back in the lockbox there was a pounding on the door. “Charlotte?” Wesley’s frantic voice called. “We’re here, unlock the door.”

  Spencer shot out of his seat and charged for the door. I hollered at him to stop. I quickly tried to figure out how I was going to explain why he couldn’t let his Uncle Wesley in. My gut told me something wasn’t right. Wesley had said they wouldn’t be in until tonight, it was three thirty. Plus, would the timing really be so perfect that he’d show up right when the cop went to the bathroom? With the gun in my hand, I approached the door. “Spencer, look I need you to trust me. Let me talk to your uncle first, alone.”

  Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the gun in my hand. “Aunt Charlotte, Uncle Wesley isn’t going to hurt us. Why do you need the gun?”

  Why did I need the gun? I knew why I needed it but what would be a reasonable explanation for a fourteen year old boy who didn’t realize his favorite teacher was an exiled angel and any exile could put on his uncle’s face and trick us into letting him in? “I’m keeping it in case your brothers wake up. That’s all.” Damn if Spencer wasn’t his mother’s son. His face told me he didn’t believe me in the slightest. Yet he walked away from the door and went back to the computer.

  I’d considered asking our identifying phrase through the door, but there was no way to explain that to Spencer either. Hoping I wasn’t making a mistake that would cost us all our lives, I cracked the door open to see Wesley and Tristan standing nervously on the other side. With one last glance over my shoulder to see Spencer engrossed in his game, I released the safety, slid my arm through the crack, and aimed the gun at them. I felt sick when their eyes widened and mouths gaped open.

  I used the gun to motion for them to back away from the door before I closed it and trained my eyes on theirs. Our question spilled from my lips while I swallowed the bile that had climbed up my throat. When their pupils contracted and their monotone voices responded in stereo, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding and released my death grip on the pistol. “Someone please take this damn thing from me.” Tristan caught my hand and took the weapon as Wesley’s arms quickly came to claim me. Neither of them remembered anything about the identifier so they didn’t understand why I’d turned a gun on them or why I suddenly released it. Especially Wesley who knew I abhorred the idea of having one. “Just skittish right now I guess.” It was the only thing I could offer. I didn’t want to say too much and require Olivier to delve back into their minds.

  “Where’d you get the gun, Charlotte?” Tristan’s voice was stern and edgy. I couldn’t blame him. I don’t think I’d be too happy with anyone who’d readily been willing and able to shoot me.

  “Where the hell do you think, Tristan?” I seethed as I was unable to contain my own emotions anymore due not only the day’s events but also the nightmare mess we were mired in. I hadn’t meant to sound so indignant, but once I started it all flowed out. Separating m
yself from Wesley, I focused all my hostility on Tristan. “Paige gave it to me in case I needed it to protect myself and her boys. There’s only an exiled supernatural enemy who can take any form after us. Not to mention two crazed killers, who have singled me out as their primary prey, are on the loose. I can’t imagine why she’d think I might need it since my best protection went with her to ensure her safety!”

  When I took a step towards Tristan, and I don’t even know why, Wesley caught my arm. “Easy there. Look, we’re all a bit on edge. Tristan, why don’t you go in and check on the boys.” Tristan didn’t respond but brushed past me and went inside. I heard Spencer’s warm greeting upon seeing him. With them safely on the other side of the door, Wesley maneuvered himself in front of me and cupped my face in his hands. “Our greetings seem to be deteriorating, my love. Will you actually pull the trigger next time?”

  The joke was meant to ease my tension but all it did was make me feel guilty so I turned away from him. Did I seriously almost shoot one of my dearest friends and the other’s boyfriend? Who was I becoming due to all this mayhem? Sensing my train of thought, Wesley spun me back around to face him. “Hey, this isn’t your fault and it was a poor joke. Remember when I used to always know the right thing to say?” he asked sheepishly.

  Before I could answer another man’s voice spoke up behind me and I jumped. “Mrs. Grace, do you know this man? Lt. Lochs said I wasn’t supposed to let anyone near you or her sons except her, Mr. Cheval, or Mr. St. Claire.” The patrolman was standing in the entryway with his gun in his hand. Thankfully it was still pointed at the floor.

  Of course, we’d suffer a communication breakdown. Olivier told me to only come out for Wesley or him. Paige told the officer to only grant access to us for Tristan if it wasn’t her or Olivier. I didn’t trust a damn soul. Laughing to keep from screaming at the lunacy of it all, I told the officer he could check the office to find Tristan. I also confirmed I knew Wesley and he wouldn’t harm the boys as he was their godfather.