Seven For A Secret Never To Be Told
By Capt. Blue-Eyed Jane
Chapter 1
Blaire winced, for what seemed like the tenth time in the last five minutes. Whatever Mr. Masters was saying, was falling on deaf ears. Blaire had had headaches like these before; sharp pains at the back of her eyes, pulsing with every beat of her heart. The vision would cloud for only a second and in that short time frame, somewhere other then where she was would be projected. But she had learned to push them back when she was in class. After all, in College- whatever stops you from concentrating was your own problem. Well that's what they thought. What most people didn't know was…
Her pocket vibrated. She clamped her hand over it and as discretely as possible took the Ancient Worlds textbook at it's opened page and propped it up on her legs, effectively making a shield between Mr. Masters' prying eyes. Blaire slid the phone from her pocket and opened it.
Another headache?
J.B.
Looking around once, she slid the keypad free and began to type.
Yeah.
B.S.
Just as she began to put it back into her pocket when it vibrated. Rolling her eyes in exasperation she looked at the message. Joan was pretty fast when it came to texting.
Why don't you take a fucking asprin
Instead of the herbal crap you rely on
So much?
The Spartans.
What about the Spartans? Blaire wondered hazily, but then realized it had gone eerily silent around her. She looked up and noticed that Mr. Masters' was wearing his torturing smirk and everyone's gaze was on her. Crap.
"The answer, if you please Ms. Sparrow," he said. Her big blue eyes blinked.
"Pardon?" Blaire asked as sweet as pie. He frown deepened, he wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms over he chest and his grinding jaw was almost audible. He adjusted his glasses and drew himself up to his full height.
"Am I wasting your time, Ms. Sparrow?"
Blaire would kick herself for this later. "Not normally. Depends if that's the actual question?" a small chuckle went around the room, and Blaire leaned back into her chair. Mr. Masters pushed the gold framed glasses up the bridge of his long crooked nose, his thin crow-like frame straitening.
"Office, Sparrow." Sighing, Blaire grabbed her worn black leather shoulder backpack, shoved the books in, and headed for the door. She was lucky that School was almost over, and that her tan hid the blush rising from her cheeks from all the glued eyes. As tough as she acted she did have shame. She flashed Mr. Masters an innocent smile as she passed and swung open the door. Halfway through she stopped, and then looked back at him with a thoughtful expression.
"It was the Spartans who won the war against the Persians right?" Mr. Masters blinked, and Blaire tweaked her glasses for a better fit, the light from the window glinting off the lenses. "Not that it mattered because the Romans came in and kicked everyone's asses any-"
"Office!" Mr. Masters shouted, Blaire nodded, kissing her two fingers before holding them up. "peace." She said smugly and basically bounded down the hall. Her pocket vibrated.
Nice.
J.B.
Smirking, Blaire texted back "learnt from the best." To which Joan replied "Damn Strait." Blaire continued down the hall and two feet away from the large oak doors that separated hallways, every cell in her head erupted in pain, as if someone were taking hot lava to her skull. For a brief moment she wondered to whom the strangled cry belonged to.
Black and white tiles lined the walls, and a foot above its border were hooks. Some kind of change room. Seven shower heads lined the back wall. A small bodied blonde was hanging; her brown eyes wide and vacant behind gold curls reflected in the mirror that hung over the sinks. The vision shifted, now the girl was being watched by another girl, but her skin was decaying and her red hair was matted. She looked at the blonde, hovering-hanging in mid air and plunged her hand through the girl's chest, ripping out her heart, and then smiled with sharpened teeth.
Every vain was on fire, and white dots danced in front of her eyes.
"Connie." She whispered, then dragged herself onto her feet and ran towards the gym. She slipped skidding around the corner and swore as her elbow smacked against the ground. Again she was on her feet and kicking open the gym door she dashed towards the boy's change room. Blaire shoulder opened the first door leading to the mini hallway and gym office, effectively sliding the bag off her shoulder. Unzipping it like it was second nature; she plunged her finely manicured hand into the front pocket and pulled out pellet hand gun.
A bloodcurdling scream came from inside.
"Connie!" Blaire shouted kicking the change room door, after a couple of attempts of ramming in with no success, Blaire swore and took out her phone. She pressed the "send a message" button and fastened it to her jawbone.
"Joan. Salt the perimeter of the boys change room, I don't care if you have to salt tape and stick it to the walls. Connie's in here, going in-hurry up!" She pressed send then shoved the phone in her pocket again flipped the backpack over dumping out all it contents. Frantically shifting through things she found a packet of salt from their caf.
Thank you French fries, from the other side of the door a gurgled choke echoed off the walls.
"Hold on Connie!" Blaire screamed, and ripped the salt packet open and wedged it between the door and its frame tipping it over, the fine white grain spilled onto the floor breaking the barrier.
"Yes!" she said then got up and swung the door wide open, and brought the pellet gun up in front of her. She blinked a couple times to make sure that Connie was indeed the girl hanging in mid air, ashen white and doe-wide eyes. She swore then pointed the gun around the room.
"Show your face you cheerleading bitch!" A giggle rang through the air and Blaire retreated to a corner. It was the first thing that Joan taught her. If you're in a corner you can see everything that's going on and have no worries about what's coming from behind…unless there are such things as wall zombies then you're screwed. Then the girl appeared, using Connie's body as a sort of pole, she swung around and stood between them, the right hand corner of her purple lips upturned in a twisted smile. Then something happened that Blaire had never seen a ghost do before. She 'shifted. Her matted red hair grew to her waist with a slight wave and became a sickingly familiar shade of chestnut brown. The patches on her skin sewed itself back together, shiny as a Barbie doll, and the dead hazel eyes became a vibrant blue-grey.
It turned into Blaire.
"Holy fuck crackers." She raised the gun, pulled back the slider and fired at the look-a-like's face. It hit the middle of her head perfectly and went strait through-puncturing Connie's chest. As soon as the wrought iron pellet impacted, the body fell to the floor, the smack of Connie's skull resonated like the crack of whip, and the ghost was gone. For good? Blair doubted it, but at least it was gone. The door opened and Blaire automatically swung her hand around, the muzzle pointed at the sweaty grade nine soccer team that just happened to need the change room.
What a perfect kettle of fish.
The talking stopped for a moment for the guys to look at the corpse, the blood and Blaire, who still had the gun on her lap.
"Whoa, what's going on-"
"-What happened to the chick-?"
"-Is that blood-?"
"-I knew her-!"
"What's going on here, why the hold up?" shouted a gruff voice over the pre-pubesant ones. It was Coach Summers, and as soon as his beady little eyes found Connie's body his voice was whisked away. He just stood there in utter shock. His mouth opened and closed a couple times before he found Blaire.
"Give me the gun." He said his voice hardly above a whisper. Blair stood up and took a step forwards but he stopped her.
"Put it down and kick it across-"
"Are you seri-"
"KICK IT ACROSS!" he shouted, Blaire dropped the pellet gun and kicked it across, he picked it up, and turned it over once in his hand then looked at her. She sighed.
"I know I know, to the office."
A old fashioned sign, engraved D.M. College, Black and white tiles lined the walls-A gunshot- a girl hanging in mid air with a bullet wound at her heart- Determined blue eyes- and a straggled cry of "Connie!" flashed in front of Sam's eyes like a badly cut movie. His hazel eyes snapped open; his heart beating mildly faster then normal and a thin layer of sweat coated his brow. It was nothing to be called a nightmare, of course but still. It had been almost a year since his visions had started and yet the pain was still less than bearable. The usual questions ran through his mind: what does it have to do with The Demon? How are these people connected to it? Maybe it's just some stray ghost? No, but could it be other 'children' maybe? Who's the girl? But of course in the dead of night, no one answered these questions.
Sam rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple times, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Across from him sat his laptop upon a large oak desk, and Sam decided to do a little midnight research. Throwing the covers off himself, he padded over to the desk, opening the laptop and pulling it into the charging jack. The backlight of the screen violently assaulted his eyes and he turned away, effectively toppling over his chair in the process. He looked at Dean who seemed to have slept through the Winchester calamity of turning on a simple laptop. Then Sam heard the rustle of bushes and instantly all his senses were heightened, as he walked to the window, he stood beside it for a moment then threw open the blinds, his eyes darted the bushes that lined the front of every window in the motel. He stood there for several seconds but the night stayed uneventful
Weary, but with nothing to go on, Sam returned to the computer and opened the web, until Google appeared on screen. A pillow hit the back of his head with a loud Toomph! Sam glared at the screen.
"Dude, can't you look up porn in the day time like normal people?"
"It isn't porn, Dean, its research." Sam said indignant.
"Research?" asked Dean, rolling onto his stomach. "Can't you do it tomorrow?"
"I had a vision." Replied Sam typing 'murder: college dm' into the search bar. Dean put his hand over his eyes.
"Yeah? What else is new?" he muttered, giving into his brother's twisted world and sitting up, blinking at his silhouette.
"What was it?" he asked.
"It was a college girl being hung in the bathroom-"
"Hey, college is tough, maybe she couldn't handle it," Dean interrupted harshly, "I mean, who's to say it has anything to do with the demon or you-us?"
"Because, Dean, all my visions have had something to do with the yellow eyed demon-all my visions have had something to do with other people like me!" Sam continued through the electronic newspapers. "besides." He added, "There was someone else there."
"Another chick?"
"Yeah, she was holding a gun-or what looked like it and what shouting the victim's name. Connie."
Dean scratched the back of his head, "so the girl hung herself and the other one has a gun? This is stupid-"
"Here it is!" said Sam happily, getting the right file up on the screen. He glanced back at Dean who grudgingly got out of bed and stood beside him, looking over his shoulder. Sam turned back to the screen and licked his lips before reading aloud.
" 'Dead Man's Cove officer Sergeant Brass was the first to enter the scene. He claims that the victim, Connie Wilson, was found on the floor of the boys' change room-' "
"Yeah, Connie!" Dean laughed, Sam continued as if he hadn't said anything.
" 'With a bullet wound in her chest, and a fractured skull. Twenty-five witnesses-which were the grade nine soccer class, claim that when they arrived in the change room a student, now held in custody, was Blaire Sparrow holding a pellet hand gun. Besides the obvious conclusions drawn by the police the cause of death has yet to be released as the autopsy is scheduled for Friday. Blaire had only one statement when asked 'what had happened'
"You wouldn't understand, you're not Hunters." ' "
"Hunters?" asked Dean, suddenly interested, "you think she means Hunters, Hunters?"
Sam shrugged in reply, peeling open the blood red curtains leaking in the blinding morning light. They both cringed at the sight, and then yawned.
"So where is this place?"
"Dead Man's Cove, Massachusetts." Replied Sam heading for the bathroom, he turned on the water and cupped his hands underneath it. "It's that Island just of the coast." He splashed the water on his face. "They have a ferry that can take you across."
"What about the Impala?"
"Her too." He lathered his face then rinsed off.
Dean snorted getting back into bed, "Dead Man, who thought of that genius name, their Graveyard Manager?" He fluffed up his pillow and cozied himself down. Sam shrugged, although unnoticed.
"No idea." Turning off the light he walked out; when he saw Dean he frowned. "Dude!" Dean peeked open and eye. "What?"
Sam gave him a 'you-know-what' look.
"Piss-off, Massachusetts is going to be the same distance weather I get up now or later."
Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, heading towards the door.
"Hey Sam?" asked a muffled Dean, Sam stopped halfway through the door and looked over his shoulder.
"yeah?"
"…Bring me some pie."
Chapter END
hope you all enjoyed it!
if you would R & R i would be much obliged :)
constuctive critisim welcome!
ciao
Capt. Blue-Eyed Jane