“No. Nothing.” She turned off her phone and stuffed it into her jacket pocket.
Oh, like that wouldn’t spike my curiosity. “Crystal, you are the worst liar in school. What?” I asked as we slogged over the damp grounds.
She pulled her lower lip through her teeth, before saying, “No, really, it’s nothing. Someone posted a picture in the school news feed. People are dumb.”
I raised my brows at her and waited for her to cave. She really was the worst liar. And she had no stamina. She caved immediately.
“Okay,” she said in a hushed tone. She pulled her phone back out, shielding it from our stalker. “But just remember, people are dumb.”
I chuckled. “Got it. People are dumb.”
She brought up her Friendbook feed and scrolled down to a photo someone had posted earlier that day. I squinted and looked closer. It was a group of kids. Bedford Fields kids. In the exact hallway we’d left earlier. And, yep. There I was. Falling on my butt in front of man and beast alike.
A kid named Zach-Z had snapped a shot of me when I had the rush of visions in the hall. What a great guy. I’m sure he was only thinking of my well-being.
Wait. A picture. I blinked and looked at it again.
I had a picture!
I almost tripped as I scrambled to get my own phone out. Suddenly all the sideways smirks made sense. No doubt everyone in school had seen it. The image already had hundreds of likes. Wonderful. Just what my social life needed. But at least I had something I could work with.
The dining room was open, but dinner wasn’t being served yet. We sat at our usual table, which was about fifty miles south of the cool table. It was easy to spot, thus easy to avoid. I glanced behind us, and Kenya was gone. I did a 360. Yep, she was gone. There were a few kids lingering as well. We weren’t really supposed to be in here yet, but until we got kicked out, we were going to stay.
“Do you see a knife?” I asked Crystal.
She lowered her head as though disappointed.
“What?”
“I thought we were going to make one.”
Fighting a grin, I said, “We can, but later. Right now I just need some small semblance of protection.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” She scanned the room. “There’s a cheese knife on the sideboard.”
“It’s better than nothing, I guess. I was kind of hoping for a paring knife. Something small but really sharp.”
“That makes sense.” She waved as Wade walked up to us.
“What are you guys doing here?”
He’d changed out of his school uniform into civvies. That’s what the students called regular clothes. At first, I thought the idea of going to a school with uniforms would be cool, but it got old kind of fast. The pants and skirts were pleated. Very old school. I had only two sets, so I had to do laundry often.
“We’re on a mission,” Crystal said to Wade.
“Seriously?” He leaned in, intrigued. Wade was a lifer, as he liked to call himself. He’d been going to Bedford Fields since he was in preschool. He’d never known anything else. And even though his parents lived close by, he chose to start living at the school when he was in seventh.
His dark hair hung in its usual disarray. Crystal chatted with him as I studied the picture Zach-Z had posted.
“We need a knife,” she said. “For personal protection.”
I was hoping she wouldn’t mention the note and she didn’t.
“A knife? So you come to the dining room?”
“Yes.” Her hackles rose at his tone. “Where else do you suppose we get a knife?”
As they discussed the best places close by to pick up a knife that could be easily concealed yet deadly when needed, I put my fingers on my phone, ran my fingertips along the cool glass. Hopefully this would be a quick trip, I thought as I dived inside.
After the pixels merged into one solid picture, the first thing that hit me was the soft roar of conversation in the hallways. The gray color of both the walls and the uniforms, each with navy blue accents. I saw myself as I ran first into Kenya, then into a boy. I stumbled but managed to gain my footing just as another kid brushed past me and I lost all the ground I’d gained.
I could see the visions as they coursed through me, pummeled me like a wrecking ball until I crumbled and slid to the ground. I covered my mouth as bile slipped up the back of my throat. I tripped trying to get to the bathroom. I started to fall, and the replay ended.
“Don’t you agree?” Crystal said.
After drawing in a shaky breath, I said, “I’m sorry. What?”
“Don’t you think we should go tonight? We can’t leave campus after seven. We should just go and grab something to eat on the way.”
It was always weird seeing myself from a different vantage. Watching myself from a distance. And this was no exception. I could see the shock wave rush through me when each vision hit. I could see myself turning blue as death after death played out before my eyes. I could see the fear that they felt on my own face, could see their despair and suffering in my expression as it flashed through me like a nuclear blast. But I’d felt the tug on my coat earlier. Before this.
I needed to go further back in the picture. I needed to rewind the scene just a few minutes more. But to when?
“Okay,” I said, trying to appease her.
Crystal had been there when I felt the tug. I had to try to manipulate time to see further back. I bit down and concentrated.
“So, now?” Crystal asked.
I gave them a blank stare. “What?”
“The knife. The weapon. We should go now before curfew.”
“Oh, no, I can’t go,” I said, blinking back to them. “I don’t have any money.”
I did have money, actually, a little, but I couldn’t waste it. I was saving it for a plane ticket. I had a feeling I was going to be rushing back home. If I was going to die in the apocalypse, I was going to do it among family and friends.
“I do,” Wade said. “My parents are loaded.”
I smiled. “I can’t take your money.”
“Not mine,” he corrected. “My parents’.”
My smile morphed into a teasing glare. “I can’t take your parents’ money either.”
“Come on,” he said, pulling at my jacket sleeve. “It’ll be fun. Just the three of us.”
When he tugged my sleeve, his fingers brushed across the back of my hand. I’d been diving into pictures, my mind focused, so I’d left myself wide open again. I got a vision before I could brace against one. Before I could erect my mental barrier.
I bit down, braced myself, expecting to be shown Wade’s death. Usually when I had a vision, I was shown the most pressing issue for that person. An imminent death. A wreck that damaged a spine. The loss of a loved one. But it was different with Wade. Darker. Hungrier.
Gone was his sweet, easygoing nature. A predator had emerged. With my fingers still on the screen, I was first catapulted back into the picture. I watched as Wade watched me. Followed me. Waited until I was so crushed by students, I wouldn’t notice him as he slipped the note into my pocket. His hands shook when he drew it, but not with fear or anxiety. With anger. With a seething kind of hatred.
He hurried through the throngs after depositing the note, then waited for the halls to clear, hoping to catch me looking at it. But I’d fallen, like the stupid bitch I was. He curled his hands into fists, frustrated he didn’t get to see the look on my face when I saw his masterpiece.
That was okay. He’d see the shock on it when his knife punctured my heart. When he stole the beast within me. Surely when I died, the beast would leave the vessel it was in and search out another. And he’d be there waiting. With that thing inside him, he’d be strong. Invincible.
First thing he’d do? Kill his parents.
No, wait. First he’d kill Headmaster Tompkins. He’d cut his face with a broken bottle and watch him bleed out.
Of course, before he could do any of that, he’d have to kill the
prophet. The great prophet who was going to save the world.
The thought of putting a stop to that nonsense made him hardened. Every time he realized the prophet he’d heard about his entire, miserable life had practically fallen into his lap, he wanted to laugh with glee. It was a gift from heaven. Or would have been if he believed in heaven. After growing up with parents as loony as the day was long, he wasn’t sure heaven existed anymore.
Still, they’d been right about the prophet. They were believers. They’d taught him about her since he was a kid. They’d longed to meet her, to invite her to stay with them, to call her their own. They never said that, of course, but he could see it in their eyes every time they looked at him. Their disappointment. Their desire for something more in their child. Something that hinted at greatness.
He’d show them greatness. Right before he pulled the trigger, he’d show them just how great he could be … with a demon inside him.
If only Lorelei weren’t so freaking stupid. How could this idiot girl from a bass-ackward state like New Mexico, of all places, end up being the prophet? How could she have such exquisite power lurking just beneath her skin and not utilize it? He wanted to bash her skull in with a baseball bat every time he thought about it.
“Lorraine?”
I heard Crystal’s voice through the fog of hatred and venom. Shock held me down longer than I would’ve liked, but I eventually clawed my way to the surface, following Crystal’s voice out of the vortex Wade had sent me to.
He still had his hand on my jacket sleeve, a silicon smile painted onto his face.
I jerked my hand back and a hint of suspicion flitted across his eyes. Not only did he know I was the prophet, but he knew my real name as well. He’d thought it in my vision. How? Who were his parents?
“What do you think?” Crystal asked. “I can pitch in, too. I’ve been saving my money for a rainy day, and guess what? It’s raining! No, really. I heard it.”
Wade’s eyes didn’t leave mine, his expression knowing, accepting.
“Come on,” he urged again. “We’ll find you a knife. Everyone needs protection in this day and age. Even our schools aren’t safe.”
“I just told her that!” Crystal shouted, thrilled that someone was agreeing with her. “I think we need to write the governor. This is just ridiculous. Our security measures are way too lax.”
“I agree,” he said. He didn’t move an inch. He watched me, took in my every move, calculated how hard it would be to push the knife he had hidden in his coat through my sternum and into my heart. Or that was where my mind was headed. My thoughts.
Who would I go to? I couldn’t tell the headmaster. The police. Who would believe me?
How much should I bring out into the open? How much should I reveal to Wade? Should I tell him I knew everything? Would that dissuade him? Divert him from his current path? Or would that just rev up his plans? Throw him into overdrive? Get myself killed even faster?
“I’m not hungry,” I said to Crystal, scooting my chair back from the table.
Wade straightened, his suspicions causing the barest hint of a grin to twitch the corners of his mouth.
“Do you feel bad again?” she asked me, alarmed.
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry.” I started to rise, but I could hardly leave Crystal alone with a bona fide psychopath. She needed to know who he was. What he was. And she needed to steer all kinds of clear of this guy. What a whack job.
Then again, how did I explain this to her? My position was too precarious. Too much was at stake for me to risk anything. I had to survive the next few days. I had to at least try to stop the coming war.
Left with little choice, I realized I had to leave. Now. I could hardly fight him. A knife in even the most inept hands was a very dangerous weapon. It wasn’t like I knew karate. Or judo. Or Pilates. I totally should have watched more Bruce Lee movies growing up. Considering my lack of experience, I didn’t stand a chance against him. He seemed quite determined. And agile.
I’d made up my mind. Tonight I would sneak out, buy a plane ticket, and go home.
WITNESS PROTECTION
I took Crystal’s arm and dragged her behind me. Wade nodded a good-bye as we left, biding his time, I supposed. The halls were beginning to fill with students filtering toward the dining hall. He couldn’t very well stab me there, not without expecting some serious prison time.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Crystal asked me for the seventh time.
I thrust her inside our room, then started tearing through it again, realizing in my haste I’d forgotten to get a weapon. Wonderful. First I changed into civvies; then I started throwing things into my canvas bag, not worrying about my uniforms. I needed to travel light. I was busy picking out my essentials like hair gel and toothpaste when a knock sounded at the door.
Crystal had been talking, but she stopped and looked at me. “Should I answer it?”
I slammed my eyes shut when I noticed I hadn’t locked it. Of all the boneheaded things not to do. Holding up a hand to her, I tiptoed over and turned the bolt. The lock slid into place before I asked, “Who is it?”
“It’s Kenya. You dropped your phone.”
I gasped and tore through the pockets of my school jacket. It was gone. I was just about to open the door when another thought hit. Maybe they were working together. Didn’t she just talk about stabbing me to death? How could she have known that?
“Just leave it by the door. I think I have a stomach virus. I don’t want to get you sick.”
Crystal gave me a thumbs-up for my quick thinking. We waited. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, I heard the bolt on my door turn. Before I could relock it, Kenya crashed through the door. I stumbled back but caught myself fast. Not that it would help. Like Wade, she also carried a knife. I was beginning to see Crystal’s point about our security measures being a tad lax.
“What are you doing?” Kenya asked, taking in the disarray of our room.
“How did you open my door?”
She showed me a key. A master key like the custodians used. Perfect. “Again, what are you doing?”
“Laundry,” I said. “Can I just have my phone?”
My stomach churned, so if Kenya pushed it, I was pretty sure I could prove to her I felt nauseated.
She tossed the phone to me, closed the door behind her, then strolled over and sat on top of my desk like she owned the world.
“What are you doing?” I asked her, fear causing a line of sweat under my nose and over my brows.
She took out her switchblade and pointed to my surroundings. “What are you doing?”
“I already told you.” I spotted the note on the desk beside her and looked away quickly. Too quickly.
She picked it up, opened it, and studied it for several tense heartbeats. Did she know about it? Was she in on the whole thing? I didn’t see her in my vision of Wade, but I rarely got a whole picture.
“Interesting artwork,” she said, folding it and placing it back where she found it. She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth, then as abruptly as a lightning burst, jumped off the desk and strolled out of the room. Right before she closed the door, she turned to me and said, “Do not leave this room.” Then she slammed the door.
What? Was I supposed to sit there and wait for her to come back and knife me? Not even.
“Holy crap, lock the door!” she yelled from the hallway.
I rushed forward and locked it. Not that it would help.
I turned to Crystal. “How did she get a master key?”
Her eyes were wide when she lifted her shoulders.
“Well, I have to finish packing.” I dived into my work again, sorting through my things. I brought way more than I’d thought.
“I still don’t get why you’re leaving,” she said.
I seemed to be hurting her feelings. “I have to get home. Back to New Mexico ay-sap. My grandmother called and my grandfather is in the hospital.”
&nbs
p; I didn’t want to tell her too much too soon. If Wade thought she knew something, she could be in danger. I’d explain to her once I was gone. Once the danger of having me around had passed.
I didn’t want to call a cab from the school. It would look bad having one pull up in the middle of the night after curfew. I was certain the headmaster would be called. So, I packed up what I could, left Crystal my favorite pillow and a bracelet I’d bought on the trip over. It had the shape of New Mexico on it.
“Why New Mexico?” she asked, and I realized my mistake too late. I was supposed to be from Arizona.
After throwing my bag over my shoulder, grabbing my purse and phone, and stuffing the death threat into my pocket, I stood before her and said, “My name is really Lorelei McAlister. I’m from New Mexico, not Arizona. The rest I’ll have to explain to you once I’m away, once you’re safe.”
“Are you in the Witness Protection Program?” she asked, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
“Yes,” I said, lying like a dehydrated dog in July. “Yes, I am.”
She swore not to tell anyone. Ever. As long as she lived.
I put my hand on her arm. “Thank you. My family’s lives depend on it.”
I was going to hell.
* * *
I hefted my canvas bag with all my worldly possessions onto my hip. The strap was already cutting into my shoulder and I hadn’t even gotten past the campus grounds yet. The darkness left all kinds of shadows hovering around me, thick and menacing. Anyone could be waiting in them. Anyone could ambush me without a moment’s notice. I suddenly realized how utterly stupid my plan was. I should’ve called a cab regardless. What would the headmaster do? There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t like they had my real name. Once I left the school grounds, how would they find me?
There was a twenty-four-hour café down the street. I just had to get past the guard posted at the entrance; then I could wait in there for the cab. And have some coffee to warm up.
At least one part of my plan made sense. I would be gone before Wade the psychotic stick boy, according to his own drawing, figured it out. He wouldn’t have a chance to kill me. I stopped as another thought surfaced. Would he retaliate? Would he go after Crystal? The headmaster? His parents?
Death, and the Girl He Loves Page 4