CHAPTER 22:
Contemplations and Constellations
(The next day...)
"What's going to happen to him?"
"The Abbott's are hell bent on pressing charges, but since the Danvers are such a strong financial line for the school, Provost Higgins reasoned with them and instead of him going to jail, he's just going to be suspended for a week, starting tomorrow."
"What about Aaron?"
"Well, Evelyn, Caleb's mom, threw a fit when she heard about how they were punishing Caleb and not Aaron, and threatened to pull her wallet from the school completely, but after another conference on the matter, they decided it would only be fair to suspend Aaron too."
"This sucks..." Sheila sighed. "I guess I should call him, huh?"
"I don't think right now is such a good idea..."
"Oh... Is he still angry with me...?" Her face collapsed into a frown.
She heard a deep breath on the other side of the phone, like the person was really contemplating an answer. "No, he never was, but like any human being that's been rejected and just beaten up, he needs his space. I mean, you did nothing less than cut off his balls when you slapped him... In front of everybody... And he's just brooding."
"How bad did I mess things up?"
"No more than he did, so I'd say you guys were pretty even."
A beat of silence, in which Sheila used to drum her fingers dejectedly along the top of the box she had wiggled from under her desk. Tracing her name scribbled on the side, she took a deep breath.
"Look, Sheila, Saturday is his birthday and also the day of the dance. Give him this week alone and I bet he'll be in better spirits this weekend."
Sheila nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right... Thanks, Tyler... I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Of course, babe." He replied and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Bye."
Sheila flipped her phone closed and threw it at the bottom of her bed, where it slid precariously to the edge before teetering to the floor. She watched it with a somewhat bored expression, staring at the spot on the bed it had previously occupied with a frown before turning her attention back to the dilapidated box in her lap.
She bit her lip, tapping her fingers up and down the sides, then rolled her eyes in frustration. "Just do it. It can't make things much worse than they already are."
She lifted the lid and peered inside. Everything looked innocent enough. Marbled composition notebooks and manila envelopes strewn throughout, the velvet locket box peeking out from underneath all the paper. She shook the box, like she was about to draw the winning numbers for a lottery, and reached in, pulling out a small journal from the bottom.
'This looks like a good place to start...'
She set the box beside her on the bed and ran her fingers over the front of the journal. No initials, no words at all told her what was contained inside, so she flipped it open, the yellowing pages crackling beneath the disturbance of fresh air, and began reading.
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June 11th, 2003
My name is Marcus Lamont and for many generations before me, my family has heard whispers of the Power the Sons of Ipswich hold. I never in my life thought it would spill over into my very own bloodline, but it has.
My daughter, who recently turned 13, has expressed "things" that are far more extraordinary than your average "gifted" child. You cannot simply label her "talents" as normal.
I have recently contacted an old college friend of mine, a James Danvers,-
Sheila shook her head to make sure she was reading right. 'Danvers... What the hell?...'
A James Danvers, and sought his help in this matter. He's a Son, a secret I learned by mistake early on in our friendship and a story to be divulged in another journal entry, and I hoped for his complete understanding and guidance.
What I got was a very angry door slammed in my face. A one Mrs. Danvers telling me in a snotty voice that her husband was "unwell" and wasn't taking any visitors.
But I knew better. He wasn't sick. Without the love and Power of Anneliese, he was dying...
Months later, I received a package in the mail from an unknown sender. Inside, it contained pages and pages of information pertaining to the Sons and their Covenant. After reading the material, I soon learned that untold Powers and hidden legends were the cause of my daughter's very existence.
There was no return address on the envelope, not a single hint of the sender. Just a simple note with simple instructions.
It said:
"Keep these items safe. You will need them as your daughter matures, physically and in her Powers. And, Marcus, do everything you can to ensure your daughter's safety. She gives us hope for the future..."
I am hoping that one day my daughter, Sheila, will come in contact with any and all this information I have worked hard to gather. I fear that the one that has started this snowball effect will soon be coming for me, possibly ending my life, and I can't risk this information returning to her hands.
I also hope that when and if she does find this information, Sheila will in turn use it to find true happiness...
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Sheila took a deep breath. Whoa... This was heavy stuff. She should just put the lid back on this can (or, in this case, box) of worms and turn away from it, never looking back...
But she knew she wouldn't. Curiosity had her by the scruff of the neck and was shaking her violently around now. She had to continue reading... Sheila did the shuffle and shake thing again with the box and peered in. Pulling out a manila envelope that felt like it contained nothing at all, she licked her lips and opened it.
Out fell a single thick page of a very old book, the corners of the paper frayed and curled, the ink from the words faded and nearly unreadable. 'Must've been really important for someone to go through so much trouble...' She ran her finger along the left edge of the page. It looked like someone had torn it straight out of a book. Sheila sighed.
'Or really threatening...'
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Each generation has four. Nobody knows how or why they are chosen... Or who chooses, for that matter... The girls are usually unaware of who they really are, that is until they turn 13, when they get their first taste of their Powers.
Along with the regular Powers all Ipswich Sons and Ladies acquire, the chosen Ladies develop attributes unique to them. With these attributes, they learn to harness their Powers and potentially to obtain the attentions of a Son (see also Claiming, pg. 502).
These attributes are found in Daughters only, although there have been records of some Sons showing signs of them. But those cases are extremely rare. Only if the Son and Lady's union is truly the heart's desire will the Ladies Powers be meshed as one with the Sons (see also Marking, pg. 506).
Some attributes include shape shifting, while other Ladies simply move objects with their minds. And in the rarest of cases, Ladies can read others thoughts with a mere touch of skin to skin.
And then there are those, even rarer still, that are not even aware of said Powers. They go through life normally, nobody, not even themselves, suspecting a thing...
Thought to have been filtered out many generations ago, these talented, young women not only excel academically, but socially as well. The world is laid open at their feet, brought up in the most elite of households, wealth and an abundant supply of the best of the best the only thing they are exposed to.
Their parents are usually normal, mortal human beings. Great leaders of business and society, teaching their daughters anything and everything they know about the Covenant and their Powers.
Each generation has four... One for each Son...
They are the Ladies in Waiting...
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Sheila took her bottom lip between her teeth, the slight pressure of a forming headache tickling her brain.
The Ladies in Waiting...
Well, the page more than described her. Non-magical parents... "Unique" talents... Her undeniable attraction to a certain Covenant member...
'One for each Son...'
Caleb.
A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump a little in the tiny, dark room. The sun was already setting and she was so engrossed in her reading that she didn't even notice. She hastily shoved the lid back on the box and stood, looking around the dorm for a place to stash it.
Another knock, this time harder and more urgent.
"Just a second." She called, half running, half stumbling to her desk. She placed the box underneath it, in a corner, then stood back and frowned. She shook her head. "Not quite..." She grabbed a jacket from the coat rack and threw it over the box. Studying it again, she finally shrugged. "It'll do."
"Sheila? Is that you?" The voice on the other side of the door shuffled its feet, hand reaching for the knob.
Sheila lunged forward and pulled the door open with such force the person stumbled in surprise. She smiled.
"I'm sorry, Kate's not here."
Pogue ran a hand through his long, chestnut hair. "I know. She's got her study group every Sunday night."
Sheila nodded. "She's probably in the library then." She gave him a tiny smile and went to shut the door, but he stopped it with his foot.
"Wait." She stepped back, her eyebrows raised. "I'm not here for her..." He held up a motorcycle helmet that Sheila just noticed he had. She raked her eyes over the rest of his body, taking in his wardrobe. Bike helmet, leather jacket, tights jeans, a pair of heavy looking shitkickers. She blinked and he cleared his throat. "I, uh, actually came here for you."
"Me?"
"Yeah, I have a competition coming up and I need to train, so I thought that I'd come by and see if you'd like to join me for a ride..." His eyes were questioning, hopeful. He smiled and she returned it, nodding.
"Sure. Sounds like more fun than being cooped up here..."
His grin widened. "Awesome." A beat. "Uh, well I guess you need to change and all that so... I'll see you out front in fifteen?"
Sheila nodded and closed the door when he turned away, heading for the stairs. She leaned against the door, then straightened her stance, and ran a hand over her forehead, the headache still threatening, but slowly being ebbed away at the prospect of a righteous bike ride.
She threw a look at the box on her desk, the jacket slipping a bit, revealing the top. It seemed to be mocking her, laughing, throwing secrets and mysteries in her face with a sneer.
She really should finish reading the documents... But... She sighed. But no. She shook her head, throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater.
Right now, she had a date with a Ducati.
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"Where are we headed?" Sheila shouted into her helmet's microphone, the sound of her voice nearly being drowned out by the whoosh of air as her and Pogue whizzed swiftly passed the surrounding forest.
He took a curve sharply, scaring Sheila into scooting closer to him, her arms going instinctively around his waist, her hands taking the front of his leather jacket hostage in her gloved fists. Pogue smiled behind his visor, shifting gears effortlessly, the motorcycle wheels spinning faster as they gained speed, the rubber eating up the road greedily.
"You'll see." He paused. "And Sheila?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't breathe..."
"Oh!" She abruptly loosened her hold on him and sat back. She could hear the tinkle of his laugh faintly in her ear and the sound brought a smile to her face.
"Just relax. Enjoy the sensations."
He felt her nod against his back, her hands cupping his hips gently as she took a deep, controlled breath, the smell of mocha and coffee from the café Pogue worked at filling her nostrils, the wind carrying his scent under her helmet. For a moment, she wondered, comically, if he had Mexican for dinner, the smell of tabasco a teasing hint in the background.
She placed her body flush against his, the cool feel of his leather inviting underneath her skin. The surrounding trees on both sides of the road were nothing but a faint blur, fallen leaves rustling and dancing beneath the bike's wheels.
The huge night sky was darker than her eyes could ever be, thousands of stars not being overshadowed by the faraway city lights winked playfully at her, the moon beaming in its breathtaking fullness.
Sheila wanted to feel it, feel everything, actually reach out and touch them, the stars, the moon... life...
"Pogue?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Well... You haven't given me a reason not to yet, so I guess I do... Why...?"
"I want to do something... Something that might be a bit dangerous, but I want to know that I have your full cooperation..."
"Are you going to kill me?"
Sheila's laugh was a light melody, faint and sweet. "No, of course not. I just... I have to do this... Please."
"Do I have to pull over or something?"
"Nope, you just have to hang on."
"Why? What are you-"
But the question was cut off as Sheila deftly undid her bike helmet, slipping it slowly from her head, careful not to let the wind have it and take it, and her, away. Her hair was immediately whipped back and she closed her eyes for a brief moment to shield it from the sting of rushing air. Carefully, she leaned back a bit, hooking the helmet to the carriage rack at the end of the bike, where it sat innocent and unmoving.
Turning to face Pogue once again, she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, shifting her bottom half as she did so, unhooking her feet from the rungs they were resting on, and squeezing his shoulders, she brought her legs up and around Pogue's waist. She felt his body stiffen, his head turning to look at her and she could only imagine the alarm in his eyes.
She gently cupped his head and twisted it forward again.
"Eyes on the road, Parry." She shouted over the wind, but it's not like he would hear her anyway, the roar of the engine alone made her very ears ring. Licking her lips (which would surely be chap tomorrow morning), she nervously let go of his shoulders and leaned back, almost fully horizontal, but not quite so much to where her hair could get caught in the wheel and ripped off her head.
When she felt confidant in her position and the straightness of the road, she opened her eyes. Without the tinted visor of the helmet, the stars were a bit clearer, the moon a hell of a lot brighter, and her smile was definitely bigger. She lifted her arms ballerina-style above her head, arching her back more, the wind carrying her hair behind her like a black banner. Slowly, she brought her arms down, holding them horizontally straight, palms up and open, eager to catch (and feel) life.
And, because she was drunk off of adrenaline and stupidity, she did the unthinkable. She tilted her head back as far as it would go, closing her eyes, and, at the top of her lungs, howled (yes, howled) werewolf style at the moon.
Sheila took another deep breath, blinking back the tears the wind (amongst other things) brought to her eyes. She had never felt more free in her entire life and in that same moment, she had never felt more alone...
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"How did you find this place?" Sheila leaned her body casually against the rusting, metal rail, the structure groaning beneath her weight. Bracing her feet carefully on the slippery rocks, she looked over the cliff, the air from the surf below twisting her hair about her head.
"These are the Cliffs." Pogue stood next to her, his back to the raging sea, his elbows holding him up as he inclined his body to the rail, crossing his legs at the ankles. "And down there, that's the Dells. You may have heard about all the monster parties that go on from Kate." She nodded. "And a bit further that way-" He pointed to his right, further up the beach where a cluster of forest grew. "That's Marblehead Flats. Great place to go four-wheeling." He shrugged. "And if you continue the way we were headed, you'll hit Gloucester. Another small town, but nothing seemingly different than Ipswich."
"Well wherever it is, it's amazing..." She leaned further over the rail, and although they were at least 300 feet up, she spotted a pair of people weaving their way slowly along the beach, walking hand in hand no doubt. She watched, mesmerized by the boy's flapping shirt, the way his hair moved beautifully in the wind, almost begging her fingers to run through it.
'Little peach...'
Sheila threw Pogue a look, checking to see if he had the voice too and that she wasn't just imagining things. He didn't seem to notice (or hear) anything as he studied the cuticles on his nails, biting away pieces of skin, the wind rustling his hair and jacket.
'Little peach... I know you hear me... Join me down here... We'll have some fun...'
She licked her lips nervously, closing her eyes and willing her mind to focus her Powers on enhancing her eyesight to triple its normal vision, much like you would when adjusting the lens on a microscope. Grabbing the hand rail firmly, she carefully leaned further over, her body bending at the waist, and opened her eyes slowly. What she saw made her gasp, almost slipping from the slick rail.
Peering innocently at her, some 300 feet below, through the spray mist of the sea and the fog rolling in from further out, was the boy on the beach. The girl he was with didn't seem to notice his attention was no longer on her, the dark-haired girl continuously chattering away.
'Hello, my sweet...'
The boy raised a hand and gave her half a wave, his brilliant white teeth shining in the moonlight. But it was his eyes that frightened her. They matched her own in blackness, but held so much more Power... She stopped herself mid-wave, reprimanding herself for falling prey to the glint in his eyes, the hypnotizing sway of his voice.
'Who are you?'
The boy smiled, raising both his arms and tapped a wrist with his opposite hand, like he was asking for the time.
Sheila's breaths came out in panicky little puffs, realization dawning on her. 'The watch...' She slammed a frustrated open palm against the rail. If this person belonged to the watch she acquired last night, that left her with two options, both people still complete strangers to her: J.L.D. or the boy in the woods.
She squinted her eyes, from the sting of the wind and to get a better look at the mysterious boy. She just couldn't shake the feeling that (although the beach walker's clue did narrow down her options) she had seen this boy, felt this Power, somewhere before.
The fog grew heavier, blocking her view. She blinked and he was gone. She sighed, straightening her stance, and stumbled a few steps back from the railing, confusion eating away at her brain. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from the freezing sea spray and the terrible reality that someone she couldn't even clearly see knew that she was here, at the Cliffs with Pogue at this very moment.
"Cold?"
Her companion's voice shocked her from her thoughts and she nodded dumbly, watching as Pogue walked to the back of his bike and, opening a small compartment, pulled out a long, green thermos. He wiggled it, walking toward her, and smiled.
"The perks of working in a café..."
Unscrewing the two cups on top, he handed her one and filled it almost to the rim with a brown, yummy looking liquid.
"Now I don't like to brag, but I am told that I make the best hot chocolate in town."
Sheila laughed, bringing the cup to her trembling lips. "We shall see..." She took a sip, the chocolate warm and satisfying as it slid across her tongue. Despite the roar of the waves, silence surrounded the two bikers and she resorted back to watching the couple down below, their toes kicking up sand as they walked, hands clasped, wind blowing their clothes back as the constant waves wiped away traces of their footsteps. She took another sip and sighed.
"He'll only be gone a week. You don't have to look so sad."
She jumped at the sudden noise in the quiet slumber of the surf and nearly spilled her cocoa on herself. 'He really needs to stop doing that!' Inwardly groaning, she wiped the dribble from her chin. "Who?"
"Caleb. You were thinking about him, weren't you?"
She let out a nervous laugh. "And what makes you think that?"
Pogue raised his cup to his lips to hide his smile. "You just have this look on your face."
Sheila raised her eyebrows. "This look?"
"Yeah." He took a long, slow sip, deliberately drawing out the moment and her curiosity. When she opened her mouth to reprimand him, he continued. "It's the same look Caleb gets on his face when he's not around you." He heard her mouth shut with a clack of her teeth. "You know, when he misses you and can't do anything except think of you and talk about you-" He paused. "-incessantly, by the way..."
Sheila gave him a sidelong glance, gauging his face to see if he was just pulling her leg. He returned the look and added a tiny smile. She nodded. "I had no idea..."
Contemplative silence was a big theme tonight as they stood there, unmoving, watching the waves kiss the shore, the mysterious couple long since disappeared beyond the sand. The misty spray was cool to her face, the cocoa warm to her chest. She threw back the rest of it, the last dregs consisting of the mocha that always sinks to the bottom when you don't stir it enough. It scratched her throat and she cleared it.
"Is he going to be okay?"
Pogue looked at her, sizing up his answer. "He thinks you're afraid of him, you know."
Sheila dropped her hands in defeat. "No." She shook her head vigorously. "Not him... What he did..."
"To Aaron?"
"Yeah..." She bit her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around herself as Pogue took her empty cup and screwed it back onto the thermos. "He's usually just so... serious... and composed... and then he just blew up..."
"He did it for you, Sheila."
She slowly nodded her head, accepting what she already knew. "That look in his eye, the feel in his body while he was doing it... It was so intense and I think, in a way, Caleb enjoyed it. He enjoyed the dominance."
"Hey-" Pogue wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her closer in an attempt to comfort her. She burrowed her face into his shoulder, smelling the coffee there on his smooth skin. "Although your theory probably rings true to a certain extent, let us remember that it was Aaron and on some level, everybody, big or small, would've gotten some satisfaction out of kicking his ass. The guy's a jerk who likes to push Caleb's buttons and, in a way, he deserved it. It was going to happen eventually."
"It still doesn't excuse the fact that it was frightening..." She gave him a playful shove.
Pogue rubbed his chest. "True, but the thing you have to understand is, everybody has that one thing that they are willing to fight for no matter what." He paused. "Everybody has a weakness, Sheila, and you... You just happen to be Caleb's..."
Sheila angled her head away from him so he wouldn't see her blush. She cleared her throat. "So, Pogue Parry, do you have any weaknesses?" She asked, shifting the subject from her to him.
Pogue smiled, his hair falling in his dark brown eyes from the wind, the moonlight twinkling off his body. Sheila blinked, realizing for the first time just how handsome the boy was. Every time she saw him, he was always frowning, like he was brooding over something that he just couldn't get passed.
"Uh... Anything sweet..."
She raised an eyebrow and regarded him softly. "Anything?"
"Yeah." He scratched an itch on his chest and laughed nervously. "You know... Candy... Cakes... Really great moments... Girls..."
"Well I guess it's a good thing Kate's so nice, huh?"
Sheila saw the faintest hint of a scowl flash across his features, but it was gone quicker than it came. "Yeah, I guess..." With a huff, he turned his body away from her and trudged down a worn dirt path near the cliff's edge. Furrowing her eyebrows, she ran to catch up to him, linking her arms around one of his when she did.
"I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"
He gave her a small smile and shook his head. "No, everything's cool."
"Do you want to sit?" She gestured to a rock formation near the edge and he nodded.
Hours passed as they sat in quiet contemplation, watching the stars glitter. Sheila raised an arm and pointed at something in the sky.
"Look, a shooting star! Quick! Make a wish!"
They both shut their eyes, giggling, childishly making mental wishes as the tiny miracle streaked across the sky. Her breath came out in a puff as she opened her eyes, giving Pogue a sidelong glance. "What did you wish for?"
Pogue averted his gaze from hers and grinned. "Something sweet..."
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Pogue let her drive back, to get a feel of her skills. The ride to the school was peaceful and stunt less, the full moon lighting their way through the dirt roads and trees. Sheila smiled the whole way there as she shifted gears effortlessly, the grip on her thighs easing with each passing mile, Pogue's body relaxing into hers.
She heard him sigh a few times, his mind elsewhere since he made his wish. Sheila pulled into an empty space in front of her dorms, letting the engine idle as she slipped her lean body from the bike, Pogue scooting forward into her place. She undid her helmet and placed it on the carriage rack.
She wiped a few tendrils of fallen hair from her eyes and smiled. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I needed that..."
He simply smiled at her and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot in the silence. He cleared his throat.
"Sheila, can I ask you something? It's kind of important."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sure."
"With the exception of last night, how are you and Caleb getting along? You know... Like are you just friends or what?" His eyes flashed hungrily, the answer to his question seemingly important. She could see the want in his gaze, feel the need in his muscles.
Sheila felt the heat of a blush creeping to her face and neck as her hand slipped slowly from his shoulder. "Uh, Pogue-" She looked down at her hands, suddenly very interested in her cuticles. "-I think I might be too sweet for you, if you catch my drift..."
Pogue's eyebrows crashed together. "What? What are you-" His eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! No. I'm not hitting on you. I would never."
A fleeting slice of rejection passed through her. "Oh..."
"No!" He stopped, took a deep breath, calmed his voice. "Not that I wouldn't under different circumstances, but Caleb's my best friend and he has his heart set on you. I would never hurt him like that."
She let out a little laugh. "Oh, yeah, me neither..." She paused. "Wait... His heart?..."
It was now time for Pogue to blush. "What?" He casually shrugged. "Guys talk too, you know..."
A beat.
"Well, thanks again..." She pulled her keys from her jacket pocket. "And Pogue, if you ever need to talk... about anything... I'm a great listener..."
He cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, thanks."
She turned toward the dorm building, but stopped herself and quickly turned back to him. "I'm sorry, I never answered your question." He looked at her. "I'd like to think that we're more than friends... Or at least, I'm hoping it's going in that direction..." She bit her lip. "Does that help?"
Pogue smiled. "More than you know..." He placed his helmet back on his head. "See you tomorrow."
She nodded, frowning. She saw something in his eyes that disturbed her, caused her concern. He put on a tough, bad ass front, but he was hiding some major hurt. The boy's emotions ran off him in gales and it almost overwhelmed her. For some reason, he was sad, but his extra dosage of testosterone didn't allow him to divulge it to anyone.
He was definitely the opposite of his best friend...
"You're not like Caleb, are you?" She blurted.
He inclined his head to the side, his eyes twinkling behind the helmet's visor and although his answer was muffled, she still heard it clearly.
"No one's like Caleb..." He revved his engine with a nod good-bye and in a cloud of dramatic dust, he was gone.
A/N: Review please!