Okay. Care to share
why you won’t be at school?
Unknown
Above your paygrade.
I rolled my eyes at his sarcastic response. Fine, he could keep his secrets. I saved his number in my phone as “Tall, Dark & Grumpy ??” as a small act of rebellion. I smirked, putting my phone away as I got ready for the day. I waffled over the heart emoji, but left it there before I could overthink it. For whatever reason Alaric was skipping school today, I wasn’t going to complain. A day to try to be normal and get some distance from my new magic mentor would probably be for the best.
The day flew by in a whirlwind of classes, catching up on homework, and much-needed girl time with Sara-Kate during lunch. It was strangely refreshing to spend a whole day not thinking about Bloodwrights or the Stonebound, but about homework and the upcoming winter formal that Sara-Kate was desperately trying to convince me to go to. I felt almost like a regular high school student. At least until the memorial service after school.
The headmistress had come over the intercom during lunch, announcing that the last period would end early so students could make their way to Ashe Gilmore’s memorial service at the Presbyterian church down the street. I looked at Sara-Kate who looked like she was holding her breath.
Though I didn’t know Ashe, I knew Sara-Kate was grieving, and if I couldn’t tell her the truth about what was happening to me, then the least I could do was be there for her.
I reached across the table, taking Sara-Kate’s hand in mine. “We’ll go together.”
“Really?” her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You’d go with me? You didn’t even know her.”
“But I know you and I wantto help. If going to the memorial after school will help you heal, then you’re stuck with me.”
Sara-Kate squeezed my hand, and then we agreed to meet in front of the school right after school to walk over together.
Now, the sky was darker, thunder rolling in the distance as the earlier sunshine disappeared. Sara-Kate and I huddled together as we followed the crowd of teachers and students making their way to the old church. Its stonework cracking in places where long branches of ivy had taken over. We shuffled in, the large sanctuary echoing our footsteps as students made their way to their seats. Sara-Kate led us about three rows from the front on the left side, at the end of the aisle. She still held my hand tightly, sniffling a little as we took in the altar where a large school portrait stood front and center, surrounded by hundreds of flowers. Soft piano music trickled overhead as the headmistress, Dr. Duvall, went to the podium to begin the service.
While this was a somber occasion and I tried my best to focus on Sara-Kate and being present for her, but that proved to be much more difficult than I could have ever imagined. My previously normal day of being just Mari and not an emerging Bloodwright quickly dissipated as soon as I walked into the church.
From the moment I crossed the threshold, a deep humming started in the pit of my stomach and the ring around my pointer finger heated so sharply, I had to muffle my yelp of pain behind a cough. It hadn’t cooled but seemed to pulsate to the rhythm of my pulse, begging for my attention.
I ignored it as best I could, shoving my hand under my thigh where we sat, trying not to shift uncomfortably every minute to ease the ache in my hand. But while it felt like the ring was heating, the air around me cooled significantly. I could see my breath blowing out of my nose every time I exhaled, and I had to fight the urge to shake violently, pulling my jacket tighter around my torso. But as I glanced around the church, Sara-Kate and the others seemed perfectly normal. No one was trembling with cold, or could see their own breath.
Then there were the whispers. At first, I thought it was the other students around us, but as I glanced around, I noticed that no one was speaking except the principal. Everyone’s eyes were focused towards the front of the church, while my own eyes moved from one dark corner of the church to another, looking for where the whispers were coming from. While I couldn’t understand or pick out specific words or phrases, the hum of voices grew louder, a cacophony of chaos that began to drown out the headmistress and everyone around me. The pain in my pointer finger reached a new crescendo and, without even thinking, I ripped the ring off, dropping it to the floor.
The moment the ring left my finger, it felt like the voices broke through my brain, an intense pressure filling my head; I was going to implode. I dropped my head to my lap, wrapping my hands over my ears, trying to keep the voices out and my brains firmly inside my skull.
I felt Sara-Kate shift beside me, clearly aware I wasn’t okay. She tried to whisper something to me, but the voices were too loud, drowning out everything else; I felt like I was underwater, drowning in words that were slowly filling up my lungs.
It’s cold . . . so cold . . .
I’m sorry . . . forgive me
The bells won’t stop ringing . . .
I want to go home . . .
Where’s my mommy?
I don’t want to play hide and seek anymore . . .
Fragments of voices continued to pulsate through me, and I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to scream at them to stop. Their voices just grew louder, more incessant; the grief, heartache, horror becoming overwhelming. I would drown in this.
But through the flood of voices, stood another, faint at first, but seemed to claw its way forward, growing louder than the others till it was only her voice I could hear.
They pushed me . . . eyes watching . . . just like his . . .
My eyes shot open, shocked to recognize Ashe’s voice. It felt like broken glass, jagged and sharp, but it was clear. I had walked into a choir of death echoes, and Ashe had found me herself. A deep burning sensation bloomed in my left shoulder, where it felt almost like someone was grabbing me, trying to get my attention, their grip hard and insistent.
I breathed deeply, looking down to find my ring sitting in front of me, between my feet. I reached down, all the while Ashe’s discombobulated voice kept speaking, willing me to hear her in her final moments, the hand on my shoulder growing hotter and tighter.
