The Order- Hit and Run

by Emma Cole

  The center of the main room extends straight up to a curved ceiling bordered by a wrap-around balcony. The images of angels and demons bleed into one another, covering the entire thing, and I can't wait to have more time to explore it.

  Grudgingly, I abandon my perusal to continue to my chosen space. I already made up a list of what's needed for my assignment and pull it out after dropping my bag onto one of the two easy chairs at the table.

  When I get up to the desk, there's a short line of students ahead of me, so I use the time to study them, looking for imperfections. A couple of the men have that same pristine, otherworldly glow to their complexions, but the two women ahead of me don't. Their skin is nice and appears well cared for, but one has a couple small, obvious blemishes under her make-up, and the other just doesn't have the luminescence. It lends credence to my suspicions that females are more of a commodity to whatever juju these people practice. Or I guess they could just be regular students.

  Nearly forgetting, and feeling kinda dumb that I did, I start surreptitiously looking for the tell-tale tattoo. Again, I come to the same conclusion; the guys have the mark peeking out from under the cuffs of their jackets, but as far as I can tell, the ladies do not.

  Worried that I'll draw attention to myself for blatantly checking all of them out, I focus on my list while keeping watch out of my peripherals. It's then that I notice the abbreviated gestures and staring, accompanied by inaudible whispering. Just ignore them. They might not even be talking about you. But I know my pep talk is wishful thinking— I've already been warned that Damien was the golden boy at Blackbriar Academy.

  Finally, it's my turn, and I show Kent what I'm planning for my project. He gives me a funny look, surreal coming from him, and nods along as I explain.

  "So, you're wanting to trace a family or two far enough back to show how they helped shape the current community? Any specific thing you're looking for?" At my head shake he continues, "In that case, I know of a few options. Why don't you check out some books, and I'll go hunt down what you're after."

  "Thank you, Kent, I really appreciate it." My smile is more genuine this time, research seems to agree with Kent, making him act almost normal. He returns the grin, pulling a little stand out that reads, ‘Will be back soon’, he sits it on the counter and comes out from behind it.

  “Not a problem,” he hesitates for a breath, then adds, “Miss Cordelia.” His smile is shy and just a bit shifty, as if it’s our little secret that he didn’t use the full address. I’d been pleased it wasn’t the subservient ‘Mistress’ until his reaction about it. "Actually, why don't you come with me. That way you'll know where everything is in case I'm not here." I'd rather not, but I need the information.

  I offer a shaky smile, hoping he just hurries the hell up and shows me the books. Thankfully, he starts off right away, and I let him get a step ahead of me to forestall any small talk he might try to initiate. We wind through the shelves until we reach the stacks in the far side of the building. The silence is almost unnerving and I find myself wishing we weren’t alone-- I don’t trust anyone at this school.

  “Hmm,” Kent starts, with his head cocked and mouth twisted up, “I thought they were in this section. They must have been moved to the closed stacks downstairs. I’ll go check, but students aren’t supposed to go down there without a pass. Although, since I’m the one on duty tonight, I could provide one. Maybe.”

  My head is shaking before he even finishes. No fucking way am I going into a basement with him alone. “That’s okay, thank you for the offer, but I actually need to use the facilities.” I turn slightly to the side, pointing back the way we came. “I’m guessing they’re up by the entrance?”

  While his mouth briefly droops in disappointment, he doesn’t push the issue. “There’s the one for students up front and the faculty one back here. Feel free to use either one, I’m going to go see if I can find the materials you need. It could take me a bit, so don’t leave please.”

  Grateful for the reprieve from his presence, I nod and start to back away, I just can’t quite make myself turn my back on him. Kent waves as he moves away, finally disappearing around the corner of the shelving. A puff of pent up air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in, escapes in a rush.

  My excuse of needing the bathroom gives me time to check out the contents of the shelves on my own, but nothing really stands out. Not that I recognize anyway, so I move on, dragging a finger across the titles as I read them. The lack of attention to my surroundings nearly has me walking into a man, I barely stop, inches from stepping on his boot-clad foot.

  I look up, and then up some more, before I reach his face. For a brief moment I swear recognition flits through me, and that it’s echoed in the man’s cerulean gaze. Shaking off the nonsensical notion-- he resembles one of the guys and that must be what I’m picking up on, I glance away from him, trying to figure out how he’s managed to sneak up on me. There isn’t a hidden alcove, so I must have just been spacing out. Embarrassing considering the near mishap, but likely not nefarious on his part. Figuring my weird, silent, deductions need to come to an end, I introduce myself.

  “Hello, I’m Cora, uh, do you work here? Oh, and umm... sorry about almost running you over, I wasn’t really paying attention.” I shut my mouth at the amused curve of his lips wincing in embarrassment. Could I be any more awkward?

  The man doesn’t seem to think anything of it and sketches a short bow. “I do, after a fashion. Work here, that is. Were you looking for something in particular?” He doesn’t give me his name, and I don’t want to be rude by asking him, but if he does actually work for the school he should have identified himself. Since he’s not making me uncomfortable in the least, quite the opposite actually, I let it go.

  “Not really, no. Kent, the person on duty tonight, has gone to find some research materials for one of my classes. I’m just browsing while I wait.” Why am I volunteering that I’m alone for chrissake? The first frisson of concern breaks through my happy little bubble. I know that feeling. “I think I’ll just go wait up front. Kent should be back any second now.”

  I begin to edge away from the tall man, hopefully in the direction that leads to the few people in the library. Hoping like hell that I’m wrong, my gaze darts from one wrist to the other. There’s not a blue mark-- it’s silver. I blanch at the sight so fast, my head feels light. Refusing to stay near him for another second, my feet pick up the pace as I keep one eye on him and try to watch where I’m going out of the corner of the other.

  “Wait, please!” The man holds his hands up in an attempt to appear non-threatening. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I only wanted to help. I should probably have led with that. Here,” he tips a slim, leatherbound book partially back so that it protrudes from the others around it. “Read it. Please.”

  As if sensing that I’m not going anywhere near him, curious about the book or not, he backs away. He comes up against the wall at the end of the row-- and continues right though it, disappearing into dark wood paneling like it isn’t even there. “What the fuck, dude. Seriously. What. The. Fuck.” I’m shaking and talking to myself in the deserted stacks of a library on the grounds run by a freaky ass cult...where I just watched a man sink into a wall. I want to go home. It isn’t even that I want my mom. I want Kael, and I want to have never come to this place.

  The panic attack is swift and grips my chest in a vise until I can’t breathe. I know what it is, and that it will pass. I just have to try to make my lungs work and calm down. You can do it Cora. Or Kent will find your unconscious body. The latter thought sends a spiral of disgust and fear through me strong enough to distract me from my freakout. It takes a few minutes, and a lot of measured breathing, but I finally get myself under control.

  Kent isn’t back, and I don’t want to have to explain why I’ve barely moved, or have him think I’m waiting for him, so I start to backtrack to my nook. At the last second, before I round the corner, I dart back to grab the book. Something tel
ls me if I deliberately leave it behind that I’ll never find it again. I keep it tucked under my arm all the way back to where I left my backpack, only taking one wrong turn before I find it.

  I take my seat, but before I can tuck the book into my bag, Kent appears, arms full of books. He must have taken a different route back from the basement or he would have seen me. At least I know there’s more than one exit down there.

  “Here you go. These cover quite a few years of classes.” He fans out a pile of yearbooks on the small table. “And these are memoirs from some of the founding members of the academy. Back before they changed it to a university.” So that’s why they call it Blackbrian Academy. I’d kinda thought they were just stuck up elitists.

  “Are you sure it’s okay to check these out? They don’t have any barcodes on them.” The books are old by appearance alone, and I can’t imagine that the administration wants them leaving the library.

  “There’s a special catalog for these kinds of checkouts. I’ll note them down and then you’ll be good to go.” Kent actually checks his watch, right there in front of me. It makes me wonder what happened while he was gone. His distinct lack of enthusiasm is a one-eighty that I’m perfectly fine with, but paired with his blatant glance at the timepiece on his wrist, it’s pining on my bullshit radar. Then I notice what I haven’t before. I can only attribute it to the longer way he wears his sleeves and my inattention, but when he pushes his sleeve back down I catch the barest edge of blue before it’s covered up. Of course he’s in on it too. His brand of creepy, paired with the tattoo, has me vowing never to end up alone with him again, period.

  “Thanks, Kent. I appreciate it. Would you mind taking them up for me? I’m sorry to be a pain, but I’m not supposed to carry anything too heavy yet. One of the guys should be here shortly to get me.” Even if he scares the crap out of me, I don’t want him to think I’m diva. But I don’t want him to think I’m weak or alone either.

  He nods, friendly enough, and gathers the books back up--including the one I’d pilfered. My teeth clamp down on my lip in an effort not to protest him picking it up. He’ll know right away that it’s not one he picked out. But either he doesn’t notice, or he thinks I’m flirting with him, because his dark stare zeroes in mouth, prompting me to quickly let my lip go. Through sheer force of will, I withhold my urge to shudder. Gathering the last book, he picks up the towering stack and leaves me to follow.

  Needing to make sure one of the guys comes to get me ASAP, I pull out my phone to message them in a group thread that I'm ready to go. I’d turned it on silent and stuck it in my bag before the guys dropped me off. Now, pulling it out of the pocket, my notifications bar is full--and the numbers are from the facility Kael is in. My heart plummets to my feet as I load the voicemails, library rules be damned. The first is Debbie, explaining that someone the files got mixed up or I’d have been called earlier and that Kael is stable for now. What the hell does she mean, for now?

  I have to find out what's happened, but I'm afraid to get caught making the call. After what I saw tonight, and the guys refusal to explain things without permission, keeping Kael a secret is paramount. Acting as normal as possible, I keep my pace restrained on the way up to the desk.

  Kent only has one book left besides the one I'd picked up to mark down in his register, but instead of writing it in, he picks it up with the other on top of it and places them both on the pile. I'm too worried to ponder the peculiarity of it and thank him again for his help.

  "Anytime, Mistress Cordelia. If you could have them back in a week, I'd appreciate it. I personally vouched for you taking them out of the library in the notes." His stiff, formal address is yet another clue that something happened while he was gone.

  "I'll get them back as soon as possible, thank you again." I slide them all into my backpack, but pause when he tilts his head with his eyes narrowed in confusion. Remembering I'd just had him Carey them because I shouldn't, I explain, "I'm only going to sit them outside while I wait for my escort. It will be fine for that long." And it's true, the desk isn't far from the entrance.

  He nods, silently accepting my explanation and I don't waste any time shouldering the bag and booking it out of there. Even though I'm still tired, my body does still feel better.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I only have to wait a few minutes on the steps of the library until Jaeger shows up-- alone. He immediately takes my bag from me without a greeting.

  “Where are the others?” I don’t bother greeting him either, I only want to get back to the dorms and get into my bathroom behind two closed doors so that I can call Debbie back.

  “They got food and went on ahead, I volunteered to come get you.” He pauses for a moment as we continue walking. “Cora, we still can’t tell you anything. By the time we got to the office to see… um, anyway it was too late. I’m sorry, we’ll try again tomorrow.” He deliberately leaves out the name of the person they went to and I’m guessing he means his uncle.

  “It’s okay, I’m pretty tired after everything today and just want to go to bed.” The excuse is flimsy, but he lets it slide with only a brief questioning glance. Thankfully, we’re already back to the dorm and I can escape in just a couple minutes.

  When we enter the living room the rest of the guys are piled on the couch, food laid on in to-go containers on the coffee table. Ash starts to get up, to greet me or let me have his seat, I’m not sure which, but I wave him back down.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m beat and would like to take my dinner to my room if you all don’t mind.” I’m being polite, but it’s not really a request. "I have physical therapy tomorrow if you guys want to work out who has room in their schedule to go with me. Let me know in the morning please." Avoiding their concerned stares, I pick up a box Ash points out and go to my room.

  Jaeger is waiting on me, having taken my bag to my room for me. "You sure you're okay?" At my nod he makes to leave, then pauses with his back to me. "I'll take you tomorrow, but it'll postpone us getting a meeting for another day." He doesn't turn so I have to verbally answer him.

  "It's fine, Jag. I do want to make a visit at the facility above the PT department tomorrow, so if you have something to do in the city, I'll be a couple of hours."

  Softly, he answers, "That's fine," and opens the door. He pauses again, partially turning this time, with his mouth turned down. "You know you can't say anything, right?" He seems almost ashamed to have to bring it up.

  "I know, no worries, Jaeger. No one would believe me anyway." I shrug at the pity he directs at me. "Is what it is, goodnight, Jag." He leaves but he drags his feet doing it.

  It isn't a secret that Damien's family, and mine, had tried to say I was making things up when Damien wouldn't leave me alone. Then after the wreck his attorneys had tried to use my PTSD against me. Admittedly I've had several bad days, but who wouldn't in my shoes?

  When Jaeger finally closes my door, I snatch my phone out of my bag and lock myself in the bathroom, dialing the number as I sit on the closed toilet lid. It rings twice before a woman answers it.

  "Centennial Care Center, how may I direct your call?"

  "This is Cordelia Shultz and I'm returning a call to Debbie Higgins, she left a message about my husband."

  "Just one moment, please." Jazzy elevator music pipes through the line as I'm out on hold and I will Debbie to hurry and pick up.

  It's probably less than a minute, but thoughts of every worst-case scenario runs through my head until the line is picked back up.

  "Cordelia?" comes the familiar tones of Debbie's voice.

  "Yes, it is. You called about, Kael? Is he okay?" I suck my bottom lip in, worrying at it with my teeth until she answers.

  "He is now, yes. He gave us a scare earlier this afternoon, his blood pressure bottomed out and he had a mild seizure. The doctor on-call couldn't find any reason for it and has sent for tests to be completed." Tears well in my eyes that I hadn't been there, and that I'm still stuck here now.
"Neither symptom lasted long and we're taking his vitals continuously, and will continue to do so over the next few days. Do you want me to clear you with the security guard downstairs?"

  Voice raspy with emotion, I have to decline, and it kills me. "I'm too far out to make it tonight, but I'll be there tomorrow, early. Will you call me if anything else happens? No matter the time."

  "Yes, of course dear. Like I said in the message there was a mix up. We have several new day staff and they must have updated your number in the computer by accident. I had to get it out of his physical chart when I got in tonight."

  "Thank you, I appreciate it. And it's all fixed now?" It's not her fault and I'm trying hard not to take it out on her, but still want to make sure they have the correct information on hand.

  "I did it myself and have personally spoken with the staff who were on shift about charting accurately. We'll take good care of him until you get here." She doesn't sound impatient, but I'm sure I'm not her only priority— and I definitely don't want to take her away from checking on Kael.

  "Thanks again, Debbie." I hang up after she says goodbye, feeling like the worst wife in history that I won't attempt to leave tonight. I know if I do, I risk the chance of being followed.

  ***

  Unable to sleep after eating, I pull out the book the man in the stacks wanted me to read. The brown leather cover looks to be a good quality to my inexperienced eye, but there's not a title on it and it's too thin for much more than a notebook's worth of pages. Flipping it open I find a "Property of" stamp and realize it's a fancy composition book. And it belongs, or belonged, to a woman named Sophia.

  Curious about the contents, I flip to the next page, but it's blank. I try a couple more, and they're also empty. Why did that guy want me to take a blank notebook? Annoyed, I fan through the pages just to be sure. Nada. But the front one had said Sophia. Maybe he'd just been some weird fuck who likes to mess with new students. It's not like I went and checked that the wall was solid.