As we approach the bar, without turning his head all the way around, Gray glances back to the stage. The three remain huddled together, Roderick watching us, the other two with their backs to us, facing Roderick.
Before I realize he’s taken his hands off me, Gray leaps to the bar, grabs the stools, spins round and flings one zinging through the twenty-five feet from bar to the stage, crashing into the back of the man at Roderick’s left, the other stool right behind crashing into the other goon’s head and neck, sending shattered bits of wood into the crowd around the stage. Both goons fall to the ground.
The remaining people rush toward the bar and the front door.
Not looking at his friends who’ve fallen at his feet, Roderick stares at Gray who has leapt back to the floor—standing between me and the stage. Roderick stares with both hatred and a look of crazed amusement at the chaos that has just begun.
The look of amusement flees his face, his upper lip rises like a curtain unveiling hell, fangs shining—he rushes forward, stepping on the back of one of his friends. Sparks and flame shoot the length of the front of the stage, trapping Roderick. The DJ—the last person on the balcony—sprints for the exit, panic screaming across his face.
The flames make a wall of orange and yellow, casting a glow on Gray as he turns to look at me.
Fire rages in the background, but I don’t care if the whole world burns. His azure irises swirl—coursing with emotion. His kiss takes me. Sparks run through my lips. His tongue so intense, desperately trying to tell me the things he no longer has time to say.
Eternity in a moment. Together whole. The same energy racing through both of us.
Damn this world that makes him release me.
I look into his eyes, waiting for the word that will sustain me or break my heart.
His blue eyes quake, yearning to say I’ll come for you, but he pushes his lips tightly shut, holding back the promise. Suddenly, the word falls from his lips.
“Run.”
“Voices Carry” fades away. No sound. Just the hissing of the pyro flickering at the stage.
A hand reaches through the flames, an accusing finger points, flesh burns and singes, and a tense, charred fist forms.
Feeling like I’m fading away with each of his steps, I watch my Gray dream turn from me, possibly for the last time, walking into the fire so I can escape its wrath.
Chapter IV
Morning Aftermath
The rumbling above my head booms as if a thousand gargoyles were trying to knock the 4th floor down upon the 3rd. Feet pound in stomps, mimicking the desperate beating of my heart.
In a dark fantasy, I imagine their worn, tired eyes becoming wild at the sight of an unprotected room. I picture saliva sliding down their exposed canine teeth, glistening at the opportunity before them. My mind races to the mayhem that is beginning above me, feeling its energy run through the building like a virus, knowing what lies at the center of its terrible heartbeat. It throbs for evil freedoms. The feet stomp for one girl. I’m the one they seek. I’m sure they’d love to never see me alive again.
The bell tolls. While it rings for all of us, it marks certain doom for me. This is what I chose to do—better than the alternative, but it’s still a lousy choice. Just hope no one gets hurt.
Just hope my man in Gray is still alive.
In someone else’s fantasy, the piercing daylight would be scorching its way through my irises, turning my eyes into vapor and jelly, and then sizzling my brain like flesh in a broiler. In my reality, the sun is just irritating my tired eyes that have seen a long night.
There’s been no rest since I saw her last. Knew I had to track her down before Roderick found her. Had very little to go on. Thankfully her coworker had a big mouth, and her phone is still in my pocket.
Don’t know what is so special about her blue-haired friend, but Roderick was willing to expose us all to get her. If he hasn’t found her yet, he’ll be hunting down the only clue that was given, the same one that’s brought me here on the rooftop, 4 floors high:
…she’s a schoolteacher at Riverview High…
Surely the others can’t be far behind me. They’ll come for Ruby to get to her friend.
Should never have gotten her into this. Can’t care about anyone. Too dangerous. I know this. Remember Eleni. Spent a half century alone, because I know better. Come out and party for a few months, and the only girl to grab my soul since Eleni’s death appears out of nowhere. Beautiful—stunning—her face would still be on my mind even if she weren’t in so much danger. It’s been just hours after my hands first touched her sweet body, and death is surely coming for her. They’ll have to tear me to pieces first—never let them touch her. Not while I’m alive, but that may not last long.
They’re plotting or already acting. Roderick must have them in a furor. Impossible to stop them all.
Worst part—I have no plan.
My God, I hope she’s still alive at the end of the day.
When I walked into the 4th floor classroom, no one was hanging from the ceiling, no desks were overturned, and no hell had been literally raised, at least none that left any evidence. In fact, they actually came to order with just an exhausted growl from me.
Bizarre.
They never listen to me the first time I say anything. I’m 19, a student teacher working with a group of seniors, and 2 of the girls who are in their 2nd round of 12th Grade were in a P.E. class with me 3 years ago. Why should they listen to me? If I hadn’t skipped a grade and taken summer classes, I’d never be here this young—probably the youngest student teacher they’ve ever seen.
Discipline’s not my big strength either. Teaching literature is what I love. Good characters, beautiful writing—people risking it all for love, dying to save someone else—these things don’t seem to happen anymore, but they happen in books. That’s why I could talk about literature all day long. Telling Johnny he can’t touch his classmate with the same finger he just shoved up his left nostril or telling Suzie I can see her cheat sheet in the strap of her bra are things I could go my whole life never having done and feel perfectly fine. I really could. But, I have to do them. It’s my job. The students know I hate correcting them, and they push me because of it.
So, why are they listening to me now? Why are they behaving on a Friday when no teacher was here at the start of class?
Could it be that they know that if I’m late something has to be wrong? I just wanted to make it impossible for Lyle to corner me before class and talk about last night, so I was late on purpose for school for the first time in my life. Don’t know what the hell was happening last night—hard to believe things I saw, but I definitely don’t want to talk about it. Don’t really want to talk about anything with Lyle. Not today.
Maybe they can see it all on my face. Can they see I’ve been awake all night? Can they see the fear? Can they see I’ve lost my best friend to this craziness? Can they see I’m confused, angry, and crushed that I was so teased by a gorgeous stranger who risked his life to save me—a kiss that still makes my lips tremble?
Am I so changed by meeting him that they can see it on my face? Do I look so broken that they pity me?
His face is still in my head. His eyes. Those arms. That body…still in school—still in school. Focus.
Wouldn’t trade those dances with him for anything. Hope I always remember how it felt to move with him. The taunt of it stings, but even a glimpse of the real thing is better than nothing—better than never having a taste of it at all. The hard part is knowing I’ve never felt anything like it and may never know it again. But he—they did things that don’t seem human. Not possible.