Kate Evangelista - Til Death

When they pulled into a quiet street lined with townhouses in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming, the subject of high school came up. From the street to the garage, words like records and enrollment were stringed together. Shopping for school supplies may also have been mentioned. He couldn’t be sure, having tuned out the moment the engine died.

“School’s a load of crap,” he said, fishing out his duffle bag from the trunk. The wards used to protect the property from any attacks by Supernaturals prickled along his skin. Another reminder of his demotion. Arbiters couldn’t put up wards. He only had the basics now: defense, surface wound healing, and some attack options. He hated himself a little more with every second that passed.

“I don’t want to raise suspicion,” Rainer replied, not breaking his even stride as he led the way into the house via the kitchen. “If you don’t go, people will talk.”

“I don’t need school,” he insisted, trailing his warden through the living room and up the stairs. “Come on, tell me about the case. And just so you know, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Rainer stopped at the top of the stairs. On instinct, Dillan reached for his charm. Every muscle in his body tensed. It might be suicide, but he would defend himself against the Boogeyman.

“Look,” his uncle sighed, “in these parts, you’re a minor.” Dillan rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been a minor since his grandfather had given him the cuff he wore on his thirteenth birthday. Ignoring him, Rainer continued, “I can’t have you skulking around or staying in the townhouse all day. We have to establish your cover. And I’m a teacher here, for Pete’s sake. I have a reputation to maintain. First day of your junior year starts tomorrow.”

“How convenient. The Council couldn’t have timed it better.”

“You’re going to school, end of discussion.”

Before he could open his mouth to rebut, Rainer disappeared into one of the rooms on the second floor. Stunned, he stared at the place where his uncle once stood. No one had ever spoken to him like a child since…well, since he actually was a child. Seething, he bounded up the rest of the way and entered what he assumed was his bedroom, ready to argue further about not going to school. When he spotted the double bed pushed up against a wall, he barely held in a groan. The blue sheets begged him to bury himself beneath them.

A leather steamer trunk rested at one end of the bed, while a stack of notebooks, a penholder full of sharpened pencils, and a lamp sat together on a desk facing a window. In a clever use of the space, the closet blended in with the ocher paint. Books dominated the rest of the wall. He immediately calculated the many ways he could defend himself in this space in case of an attack.

“You like it?” Rainer gestured at the space.

“It’s still a cell.” He dropped his duffel and skimmed the titles on the shelves.

“Compared to some of the prisons I’ve been in? This is freakin’ Caesar’s Palace.”

It took him a second to get the Vegas reference. He hadn’t been back to the States since he’d left with his parents. He approached the desk and tapped the empty spot where a computer should be. “You forgot the laptop.”

Eyebrow cocked, Rainer flipped a switch underneath the lip of the desk, and the tabletop parted. A panel with a laptop rose from a secret compartment. “The specs are standard issue, but I’ve added a few upgrades. It’s connected to the Illumenari server.”

Eying the ultra-thin, chrome laptop, his first impulse was to call his parents. Update them. His chest tightened. The disappointment on his father’s face was still fresh in his mind. They wouldn’t be speaking to him any time soon. Not until he’d redeemed himself.

Caught up in his own pity party, he didn’t notice his uncle reaching for him until a hand landed on his shoulder. On reflex, he executed a grab-and-twist maneuver. An inhale later, he found himself face down on his new desk, his arm bent at a bad angle behind him. If he moved, it would dislocate.

“I’m seeing a pattern of disrespect from you,” came the whisper into his ear.

Chills rippled over Dillan’s skin. If death had a voice…

“Maybe I really need to teach you some manners.” The Boogeyman added more pressure on his arm, and a pop followed . Dillan’s vision tunneled. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming like a girl. His fingers went limp. Counting to ten, he forced himself to relax. Only then did Rainer release him and back away.

“You’ll find everything you need in this room. The bathroom’s down the hall. And Dillan…” He stopped at the door, his expression calm as if nothing happened. “Go to bed. You start school tomorrow.”

Grunting, he pushed off the desk with his good hand. His arm hung loose at his side. The throbbing pain spread all the way to his chest, constricting every breath he took in. Biting his lower lip, he grabbed his elbow, braced himself against the desk, and popped his arm back in. The room spun. He closed his eyes and stumbled his way to the bed. His life officially sucked. Then he passed out.

Selena

Meeting Mr. Rock-Star-National-Geographic

V isions. For as long as I could remember, I’d had them. Snippets of my immediate future to be exact. Like what I got on a test or that my hot history teacher was going to walk into today’s algebra class unannounced. I kept telling my best friends there was no use asking me for lottery numbers. Not that kind of ability. They were the only ones other than my grandparents who knew, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Think of it like a lame superpower. I wished I had visions of the winning lottery combination! Then I wouldn’t have to find a part-time job to start a college fund, Grams wouldn’t have to work at the diner anymore, and Gramps wouldn’t have to fix tractors and trucks for a living. Sometimes my visions were helpful, sometimes not. And right now I wished that a vision would have told me to avoid my locker on this lovely first day of junior year.

The cellphone I set inside the small space buzzed as I stuffed all the essentials I might need for the coming year. Spare clothes. A toiletry kit. A small mirror to check my lipgloss. When the metallic rumbling stopped, I peeked at the message.

Penny:Run!

The familiar scent of chlorine masked by musky, cool cologne filled my next breath. The skin on the back of my neck prickled. I looked down to see long legs in jeans and boots. My locker door hid the rest of him. I quickly typed in my reply.

Me:2 L8

He just stood there. Why was he just standing there?

I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. I didn’t need this kind of aggravation. How could I have deluded myself into thinking I could avoid him in a school this tiny, in a town so small?

A couple of girls passed by, giggling.

I shot them a sidelong glance. Connie Everton, my lab partner from last year, twirled her hair and said something to a blond I almost didn’t recognize. Samantha Torrington. Blond? Really? It was amazing what dumping a bottle of hydrogen peroxide over your head did. I opened my mouth to call out to them, but they were already too far without me having to shout. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to myself and the guy who stood beyond the protection of my locker door.

Again I picked up my phone.

Me:Save me.

Penny: Cant. 2 far.

Me: H8 U!!!

Penny: Coming!

Not fast enough. She could have teleported to me and it would be too late. I slipped my phone into my back pocket, resigned to my fate.