P. Cast - Destined

Rephaim was absolutely astounded. A professor was asking him a question. As if he was just another daydreaming fledgling—normal—the same—accepted. Feeling nervous and completely exposed he opened his mouth and blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

“I think he’s trying to say this girl is unique. He recognizes how special she is, and he values her.”

Professor Penthasilea’s brows lifted and for an awful heartbeat Rephaim thought she might ridicule him.

“That is an interesting answer, Rephaim. Perhaps if you kept your mind more on the book and less on other things, your answers would go from interesting to incredible,” she remarked in a dry, matter-of-fact voice.

“Th-thank you,” Rephaim stuttered, his face feeling warm.

Penthasilea nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment before turning to a student sitting more toward the front of the class and asking, “What about her final question to him in this scene: ‘Are you happy?’ What significance does that have?”

“Good job,” Damien whispered from his desk beside Rephaim.

Rephaim couldn’t speak. He only nodded and tried to understand the sudden lightness of spirit he felt.

“You know what happens to her? This special girl?” The whisper came from the fledgling sitting directly in front of Rephaim. He was a short, muscular male with a strong profile. Rephaim could easily see the disdain in his face as he glanced at him over his shoulder.

Rephaim shook his head. No, he did not know.

“She’s killed because of him.”

Rephaim felt as if he’d been kicked in his gut.

“Drew, did you have a comment about Clarisse?” the professor asked, raising her brows again.

Drew slumped nonchalantly forward and lifted one shoulder. “No, ma’am. I was just givin’ the birdboy some insight to the future.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder before saying, “The future of the book, that is.”

“Rephaim.” The professor spoke his name in a voice that had gone hard. Rephaim was surprised to feel the power of it against his skin. “In my classroom all fledglings are equal. All are called by their correct names. His is Rephaim.”

“Professor P, he’s no fledgling,” Drew said.

The professor’s hand came down on the top of her podium and the entire room vibrated with sound and energy. “He is here. As long as he’s here, in my classroom, he will be treated as any other fledgling.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Drew said, bowing his head respectfully.

“Good. Now that that is straight let’s discuss the creative project you’ll be doing for me. I want you to bring alive your choice of one of the many symbolic elements Bradbury uses in this wonderful book…”

Rephaim held very still as the class’s attention was pulled from him and the Drew fledgling back to the book. She’s killed because of him was playing round and round inside his mind. Drew’s meaning was clear. He hadn’t been speaking of a character in a book. He’d meant Stevie Rae—that she was going to be killed because of him.

Never. Not as long as he drew breath would he allow anything or anyone to harm his Stevie Rae.

When the bell rang to release them from class, Drew met Rephaim’s gaze with unflinching hatred.

Rephaim had to hold himself back from attacking him. Enemy! his old nature shrieked. Destroy him! But Rephaim ground his jaw and returned Drew’s gaze without blinking as the fledgling brushed roughly past him.

And it wasn’t just Drew’s eyes that stared at him with hatred. All of them were sending him glances that ranged from hostile to horrified to frightened.

“Hey,” Damien said, walking out of the classroom with him. “Don’t let Drew bother you. He used to have a thing for Stevie Rae. He’s just jealous.”

Rephaim nodded and waited until they were outside and had drawn beyond hearing distance of the rest of the students. Then, quietly, he said, “It isn’t just Drew. It’s all of them. They hate me.”

Damien motioned for him to follow him a little way off the path, then he stopped and said, “You knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

“That is true. I just—” Rephaim stopped himself and shook his head. “No. It is simply true. I knew it would be a difficult thing for others to accept me.” He met Damien’s gaze. The fledgling looked haggard. Grief had aged him. His eyes were red and puffy. He’d lost the love of his life, yet here he was showing Rephaim kindness. “Thank you, Damien,” he said.

Damien almost smiled. “For telling you this wouldn’t be easy?”

“No, for showing me kindness.”

“Stevie Rae is my friend. The kindness I show is for her.”

“Then you are a remarkable friend,” Rephaim said.

“If you really are the boy Stevie Rae thinks you are, you’ll find that when you’re on the side of the Goddess, you’ll make a lot of remarkable friends.”

“I am on the side of the Goddess,” Rephaim said.

“Rephaim, if I didn’t believe that I wouldn’t be helping you, no matter how much I care about Stevie Rae,” Damien said.

Rephaim nodded. “That’s fair.”

“Hey, Damien!” One of the red fledglings, an unusually small boy, hurried up to them, giving Rephaim a look, then adding a quick, “Hey, Rephaim.”

“Hi, Ant,” Damien said.

Rephaim nodded, uncomfortable with the whole greeting process.

“I heard you had fencing this hour. Me, too!”

“I do,” Damien said. “Rephaim and I were just—” He paused and Rephaim watched several emotions pass his face, ending with embarrassed. He sighed heavily before saying, “Um, Rephaim, Dragon Lankford is the fencing professor.”

Then Rephaim understood.

“That’s, uh, not good,” Ant said.

“He may still be at the school Council Meeting,” Damien said hopefully.

“I think it best that I stay here, whether Dragon is absent or not. If I come with you it will only cause…” Rephaim’s voice ran out because all he could think of were words like: chaos, trouble, and disaster.

“Unpleasantness.” Damien filled in the silence for him. “It would probably cause unpleasantness. Maybe you should skip fencing for today.”

“Sounds smart,” Ant said.

“I’ll wait for you.” Rephaim motioned vaguely to the tree-filled area around them. They weren’t far from one of the school walls where, just inside the stone façade there was a particularly large oak under which sat a wrought iron bench. “I’ll be sitting there.”

“Okay, I’ll come by and get you after class. The next hour is Spanish. Professor Garmy is nice. You’ll like her,” Damien said as he and Ant started toward the field house.

Rephaim nodded and waved and made himself smile because Damien kept glancing worriedly over his shoulder at him. When the two fledglings were finally out of sight, Rephaim walked to the bench and sat heavily down.

He was glad for the time alone, when he could be unguarded—could let his shoulders slump and not worry about having others stare at him. He felt like such an outlander! What had he been thinking when he’d said he wanted to be normal, to go to school like everyone else? He wasn’t like everyone else.

But she loves me. Me. Just as I am, Rephaim reminded himself, and thinking it made him feel a little better—a little lighter of spirit.

Then, because he was alone, he said it aloud.

“I am Rephaim, and Stevie Rae loves me just the way I am.”

“Rephaim! No!”

The whispery, semi-human voice came from the branches of the oak. With a terrible sense of dread Rephaim looked up to see three Raven Mockers, three of his brothers, perched there staring down at him in shock and disbelief.