BF Day 3 Evie

Jackson was always staring at me, and to be fair, I often looked back, but since I'd essentially promised him a sketch of my vision in history yesterday, it seemed like there was something between us now. So on the ride to school in Brandon's car, when Jackson's motorcycle passed us, he gave he a stare that I returned steadily, then a chin lift. I nodded back.

As he sped ahead with his posse Brandon asked me, "What was that about?"

"Not sure," I lied. Then since I figured he would find out eventually, since the project would be going on all semester and it was worth 40% of my grade, I decided it would be better he learned now than later. "Maybe it's because we're partners on that junior history project and he's decided to upgrade from hostile to somewhat friendly?"

"He's your partner for the project?" Brandon asked in disbelief.

"Yup." I answered steadily, gazing out the window, as though I disliked the prospect when I was actually somewhat intrigued by the idea.

"Damn. Isn't that the project that goes on all semester and is worth 40% of your grade?" Brandon had the same teacher last year and was familiar with the project I was talking about.

"That's the one."

"Well that's going to suck for you. Make sure you meet in public places. I don't like that guy." He proceeded to update me on all the rumors about Jackson's juvenile delinquent record. Stabbings, theft, assault, time done, drunk, disorderly, etc. I didn't know how much of it was true but judging by Jackson's taped fingers and the amount of swigging he did from that flask of his, at least some of it had to be.

Hmm. Hopefully Mom wouldn't hear about that. I didn't want to judge though. The area he was from could be a dangerous place and there could be valid reasons for those charges. Just like there might be a valid reason for my crazy.

In the mean time, it wasn't like I was planning to marry him. He was my history partner that I was getting to know a little better and maybe be friends with. I wanted to warn him about an apocalypse. And the guy made my heart race for some unknown reason I couldn't define.

"Don't worry Brandon. I'll be safe. No worries."

"Ok. Hey, only four days till your birthday. And I was thinking, the weekend after this, Spence's parents are going out of town. You could tell your parents you're staying at Melissa's. So it'd be after your birthday…"

Ugh. I so regretted ever making that promise to him last year. Last spring, before CLC, I'd talked about letting him be my first after my 16th birthday. I'd been desperate to keep him faithful all summer. It had worked. A little too well. In texts he'd begun counting down the days. So much pressure, like I didn't have enough to deal with! Now that the time had come, I totally didn't want to do it. In fact, the more pressure I got, the more distasteful I felt about the event. In fact, today I'd ultimately decided, I wasn't doing it.

"Umm, I'll think about it, and let you know, ok?"

His hand was on my knee, and now his fingers drew circles just above my knee on my inner thigh. I had a feeling that was supposed to feel better than it did. Thankfully, we were pulling into the parking lot so I didn't have to think about that much longer.

Brandon walked me most of the way, again me carrying my own bag. I always carried my own bag. I was exhausted from staying up so late drawing, and from the constant nightmares that interrupted my sleep. I'd woken up at four this morning and couldn't get back to sleep until about 5:30, only to wake back up at 6:15, feeling more tired than I'd been before I'd gone back to sleep.

As I walked beside Brandon across the very long parking lot, I wondered if I was getting a little spoiled from Jack's carrying my bag for me once in a while. It was so nice. Why did he do that anyway? Sad thing was, it only emphasized that Brandon didn't.

Brandon gave me a kiss on the cheek before running off to play with a football and the guys and I again schlepped my stuff to my locker, focusing on not falling over and keeping one foot in front of the other. My bag was loaded with nearly all my books and I was leaning forward gripping both straps with my hands, eyes a few lengths in front of my feet. I reached my locker and opened the door, but as I moved to set the bag on the floor, a strong hand grabbed the bag, lifted it, hung it from my door. I shrieked in surprise a small sound of alarm escaping my lips as I jumped, banging my back against the lockers in fright.

"Calme-toi fille" -Calm down girl. Jack said, palms up in the universal I mean you no harm gesture. I held my hand over my heart and took a steadying breath. I looked down and took a couple breaths before looking up and giving him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I'm just kinda out of it and you caught me off guard."

His lips quirked up and he nodded. "It's cool."

I continued, "Thanks though. The bag was heavy."

"De rein belle fille." -It was nothing beautiful girl. I blushed. His eyes sharpened. "Tu parles Francais! I knew it!" He was standing so close! One hand holding the door of my locker, the other hand on his hip, but with him standing as close as he was, and the lockers on two sides of me, I really felt caged in here. Like we were nearly in our own little world.

"Um…Don't you need to get your books for class?" Admitting nothing, I moved books from my bag to my locker, trying to stall.

"Don't think this is over." He nearly threatened. Oh I didn't. Not for a second. He moved to step away but then his eyes caught my sketchbook in my bag. His hand moved to hang casually over the top of my locker so that his fingers were about two inches from the item. I grabbed it before he could and my eyes locked to his.

I'd thought and thought and rethought about calling the whole thing off. But something told me I needed Jackson's help figuring this puzzle out. He was so perceptive. I might only have days left to do it. The boy in my vision had seemed so urgent. I was so scared. I couldn't tell Mom. I was afraid to tell Mel. I was afraid to tell Jackson.

But what if I couldn't figure this out on my own? I was so confused. After CLC, how the doctors had messed with my head, I just didn't trust myself like I used to. But this…this was too important to mess up. This was about survival. As I looked into Jackson's grey eyes, something told me this boy, who looked more like a man, knew all about surviving. And he'd known about the moon thing right off. This had to be worth the risk.

"Did you draw something for me?" He voice rumbled, a baritone like thunder. He'd leaned in to say that, about three inches from my ear. It sent shivers through me. I could swear I felt certain bits of myself come alive with awareness. Why couldn't I feel this way around Brandon? If I did, sex wouldn't be a problem at all! I'd be counting down the days myself!

"Yes." I turned to look at him. He was close enough to kiss.

"You gonna give it to me?" His brows raised in question. I sank back a little into my locker. Need more space. Too… much… heat …here

"Yes…but not here. Later, when we have time to talk a bit. Okay?

"It's a date." he told me. I narrowed my eyes at him because first, he'd said it in French and second, he'd used the romantic version of the word 'date' instead of the other word that I would have preferred which would have meant appointment or scheduled meeting. But I couldn't say anything without giving away that I knew the language, and he knew that. Grrr.

I turned away from him, trying to finish my business at my locker. He somehow managed to finish at his locker at the same time, entering homeroom right behind me. He snagged a seat right behind me in class.

Homeroom was short, only about fifteen minutes, mostly attendance. Clotile must be running late today. When she came in she sat behind Jack after we exchanged smiles and quiet "Hello's". I sat facing forward, sitting up straight. I felt my hair move and heard Jackson breathe in deeply before he said, "Mm mm MM, Evangeline. You smell comme une fleur." just like a blossom. Again all in French. I sighed. He was really pushing the flirting thing hard wasn't he? Was it just that I was a challenge? Or was it just something he couldn't help doing? A compulsion like my drawings. I decided to ignore it. Or better yet, sidetrack it.

I turned to the side as though I was looking out the window. I picked window seats always whenever seating was not assigned. Closer to nature. Also easier to hide my sketches. Today it would work to hide a conversation. People always talked in homeroom so it wasn't anything new, but this wasn't a conversation I wanted people to hear.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was already looking at me, as usual, and grinning. No smile on my face though. I was already serious. I looked out the window again. "Have you ever known anyone who…saw things coming? Who knew something would happen before it happened?"

He leaned forward on crossed arms suddenly serious too. He turned his head to the window as well but his eyes were still on my face. "Mais yeah. I had a cousin who could read the future in coffee grinds. My grandmere could predict hurricanes a month in advance."

I looked at him instead of the window. That was interesting. So he was open to this kind of thing. He might actually take this seriously and maybe keep my secret safe. "Can I trust you?"

He raised his eyes as if to say, "Are you serious?"

I elaborated, "I mean, if this gets around to my mom or to a bunch of people, I can get in major trouble. So you have to keep this secret. It's important and I want you to use it. But still keep it secret. Can you do that?"

His face became hard, his brows drew down and his lips firmed. "You can trust me. Show me the sketch Evangeline."

I pulled it out and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left. I gave him the first one, the near replica of my bedroom walls with the full moon. His eyebrows raised. "This is good Evie." He looked in my eyes. "Real good. You got a gift."

"Thanks," I blushed but nodded down to the sketch, glancing at the clock. He took the hint.

"A storm comes on the full moon. This why you asked when the next one is?"

I nodded.

"This happening that soon?"

"I'm not sure yet. Just…a full moon, and soon." I handed him the second picture and said, "Later that same night."

He took it. I'd added color on the northern lights. My body started shaking again and I tried to keep my knees from bouncing with nervous energy and my hands from wrinkling the other two pagers that were in my hands. He saw me trembling anyway. I got the feeling Jackson Deveaux didn't miss much.

He took the drawing in while I took in his face. His fingers traced parts of the drawing before coming to rest on the corner where he and his friends rested in safety.

When he looked up at me I put the first sheet back on top and placed the third sheet on top of the first. He took a deep breath before looking from me to the sheet, as though he knew something he didn't want to see was going to be on it.

When he looked down the breath rushed out of him. I'd added color to show the fiery flames killing everything. The green and brown and multicolored snake scales and rats rushing away.

Then I moved the second page of the people back to the top and slid the last page over it. These pages were also nearly identical, only the homes were damaged, where the people once stood, now lay piles of ash, except for Jack, Clotile and their friends, safe in the cellar. Again his fingers rested on various parts of the page before coming to rest on himself and his friends safe in the cellar.

"You think this is goan to happen?" His low voice rasped, his face only inches from mine.

"I saw it happen. That's what I saw during History yesterday." I didn't tell him about the boy or what he said.

"And it all happens one night during a full moon?" He questioned, eyebrows raised. I couldn't believe we were actually having this conversation. That he was actually believing me.

"Are you saying you actually believe me?" I was totally shocked, but so hopeful I couldn't hold anything back.

"Peut-etre, oui." Maybe, yes. I grinned so wide I couldn't hold it back. And so did he as he sat back, crossed his arms, and looked for all the world like he'd just scored big. Why?

Wait! He'd just said that in French, and I'd indicated I'd totally understood. Oh, fine!

"Ok, fine, you got me. Je parle Francais Cadien and have since I was a kid." I whisper yelled at him.

"Now was that so hard?" He asked with a smug grin. When I just shrugged he asked, "Why didn't you admit it when I asked you yesterday?" he asked me in Cajun.

"I thought you liked puzzles?" I queried innocently in Cajun back and shrugged.

"Sans doute." Without a doubt. His gaze on me burned hot now. Smoldering embers. "Well now that was kind of you. You heard me say I liked puzzles so you gave me one. Were you being doux a moi?" sweet to me?

I blushed and mumbled something. Thankfully, the bell rung. "Can I have my sketches back?"

"I'm goan to make a copy first fleur." Blossom. Doan worry. I'll keep it secret. I'll get them back to you before our last class.

"Why would you call me fleur? I asked him as we walked out, the last ones to leave. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. He had a hand on my back as we walked out of the room but he grabbed the back loop of my pants, holding me back inside the room and whirled me around so that we were still inside, the only ones in the room as the teacher had left too.

He leaned down, pinning me against the wall, his mouth next to my ear, his lips brushing it, making me tingle all over as he spoke,"Because right now Cher, you smell comme une fleur, just like honeysuckle." -like a flower He held me there in a loose embrace as he took a deep breath, and as I struggled to breathe. He smelled really good too. He was warm, his arms were firm and strong. One of his hands held up my bag from the bottom, lifting my load. He might be rough around the edges and exude danger, but he still somehow managed to be a gentleman. How did that work exactly? And why did that make my panties wet?

Jackson was late to lunchtime in the Quad but he'd given me a chin lift that I'd slowly returned. In History we started out class with a brief amount of direction concerning getting started on our projects and then we were allowed to move class to the library to get started on our projects. Some how I knew Jackson and I would be talking more about future events than past.

He'd sat next to me in class and when we moved to the library he picked up my bag for me, carrying both his and mine, gesturing for me to precede him. Huh. A girl could get used to this. I picked a library table in a far corner by a window, of course. After Jackson deposited our bags and we'd pulled out paper and pencils and discussed enough course work and picked enough books from the stacks to get started with, we sat at the table and got started. I was pleasantly surprised. He was easy to talk to, decisive, had opinions and good ones, and was obviously smart. Despite all the swigs he took from that flask of his, he in no was acted drunk. He'd be a good partner for this project.

When we had fifteen minutes left, he pulled my sketches out of his bag and before giving them back to me, started pointing out details, making sure he'd dissected everything correctly.

"So obviously this is a full moon," pointing again "and here I see storm clouds, maybe some actual rain coming" he looked to me and I nodded so he continued, "These here look like something I saw in a picture once, Northern Lights?"

"Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights. Yes. They're so beautiful that people are going to get out and stop and stare, but that's the wrong thing to do."

"Because if they do, they'll be caught outside when this happens?" He flipped to the second page where the fiery destruction rained down.

"Exactly."

"You drew me and my podnas in here? Even Lionell. I know you doan like him. Why'd you put us in here Evangeline?"

"Because I want you safe!"

"You want me safe? You care bout me and my podnas?"

"Mostly about you and Clotile, but I'd like everyone to be safe if they'll listen well enough to be safe."

"Who else have you told?"

"Just you." I whispered, a little ashamed and a little shy.

"Why me? Why not your girl Mel? Why not your beaux? Your mere?"

"Well…"I faltered, searching for answers, "I don't know if Mel would believe me. Brandon and I don't ever talk about stuff like this, serious stuff. He's not that kind of guy. He's never even had a nightmare before. And Mom…Mom, she already knows I have dreamed about this before, but she thinks I don't anymore and if she knew I still did she'd pull me out of school and I wouldn't be here anymore. So you can't tell anyone." My eyes moistened and my hand reached out and gripped his, our hands hidden from others by our bags and the books, my voice breaking. "You can't. Promise me Jackson."

"It's a promise Cher." His voice was confident and firm and his other hand covered mine, and thumb rubbing my knuckles.

I nodded, blinking rapidly, and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly to calm down.

I pulled my hand back and began to put away the sketches but his hand holding them down stopped me.

"When?"

"When do I think this is going to happen?"

At his nod I continued. "I'm not too sure. I know it's supposed to be at a full moon and a thunderstorm obviously. We're three days away from the next full moon. I don't know if it will be this one or the next one or the one after that. I had this same vision last spring too. I feel like it will be soon. I'm scared."

"I would be too if I was seeing stuff like this." He scratched his chin. "Your girl Mel, you trust her? Think she'd tell your mere on you if you were to, say, get drunk or do drugs, or somethin'?"

"No! Not that I'd ever do drugs, and I haven't been drunk before, but she'd never tell my Mom on me! Why would you ask me that?"

"If you can trust your girl with all that, you should trust her with these." He waved the sheets he'd folded up at me. "That's all I'm sayin'."

That was actually…wise. I slowly smiled at him and he returned it. He had a good smile. I looked at the clock. Five minutes. Time to pack up. As we put our things away I asked, "Do you want to exchange numbers? So we can meet up if we need to for our project?"

"Here, you give me yours," He shoved a pen and his arm at me, "and I'll call you soon."

Jackson, Clotile and I met up again for study group that night, this time bringing Tee-bo along, which Mom had said was alright when I'd called on the cell to ask her about before school's end. He had a couple classes with Clotile that I didn't and one class with Jackson that I didn't so this time we all switched out partners so we were hardly ever working alone. Tee-bo and I didn't have a class together, but we did have the same course and the same teacher, just at different times, so I worked with him for a little bit. He was pretty cool.

Mom had a farmers meeting about the drought this time so it was just us. Again I was grateful for my new friends. They were funny and full of attitude, but smart too, more than carrying their weight in this group. It was so much easier to focus with them there. I ordered a couple large pizza's, a meat lovers and a supreme, to be delivered a bit later, and had fruit, crackers, cheese and cookies waiting for them again. The boys especially seemed to appreciate the food. Jackson and I quizzed each other in English.

Now that my Cajun secret was out, they spoke Cajun in the house and I answered back which they thought was a riot. This rich, sterling girl was apparently more like them than they'd known. Clotile teased me endlessly for not telling her earlier. I just smiled and said, "Sometimes it's fun to puzzle out things for yourself." Jack had a twinkle in his eye as he watched me.

Later that night, after my Cajun friends left, I was exhausted. But at least my studying was done. Mel and Brandon were texting me and I couldn't pay attention. Mel seemed hurt by my lack of attention to her texts, but I just couldn't do better. My brain was fried. And what was worse, I was starting to hear voices in whispers that weren't quite there. Like whispers from someone in the next room…when there wasn't anyone there. I knew I should sleep, but I was afraid to. My dreams scared me.

Before I passed out I pulled up my computer to do a little research.

I looked at the moon calendar again, obsessing about the full moon, now two days away. I didn't like the sound of that. My birthday was the day after that.

Then I got out my sketch book and wrote out every word I could remember that the boy in the vision had said.

"I go over the edge, a dog at my heels." Something about that pulled at my memory. I didn't know what though. I tried a google search. I got nothing. Frustrated, I wiped the history, closed the computer, and went to bed.

I tried to think about something else. Jackson, he'd done the casual touch thing again tonight. I'd liked it…a lot. I'd been less on edge about it and more comforted by it. Still aroused though. But was he pursuing me because he liked me, or because he just wanted to score a doe-tag? I knew nothing about boys like him.

Frustrated with my own thoughts, I tried to sleep.
-

Later that night, I woke to find myself standing in my driveway in my underwear, with no memory of how I came to be there.

I blinked several times. Surely this was a dream. Or ever a vision. Last I remembered, I'd fallen asleep in bed. So, any minute now, I'd really wake up.

Any minute…

Nope. Still standing there, barefooted on my oyster-shell driveway, wearing nothing but boy-short panties and an old cheerleading camp T-shirt.

Well this wasn't good.

I squinted through the mist to get my bearings, but I could barely see a few feet in front of me. The fog was as thick and wet as breath on a mirror, dimming the heat lightning above. Yellow bolts the color of a cat's eye forked out above me.

The doctors would have had me believe this was a hallucination and upped my medication. Since I was following my own philosophy now, I had to wonder what this dream or vision was supposed to mean and what category it was supposed to fall into. Was this harmless, a warning, evil, or scary? I had no idea yet, but anything could be in that fog, and that creeped me out so I decided to go back to the house. Looking down at my bare feet and the drive, I winced. This was going to hurt.

I started back toward the house, and the razor-sharp shells sliced my tender feet, making them bleed. Naturally, our driveway was raised, flanked by two drainage ditches all the way to our lawn. Which meant I was stuck halfway down the mile-long drive. I made my way to the side and a drainage ditch. Dirt on bloody feet wasn't exactly smart, but walking half a mile down razor-sharp oyster-shells would be insane.

Ha! Insane.

As I gingerly stepped to the side, I wondered how I made it out here without getting my feet cut in the first place. Did I just plop down from the sky?

Maybe because this is just a dream? I told myself that, even as I fake cussed and sputtered my way across the shells.

And to make the situation worse, I again felt like I was being watched. I ran my hand over my nape. Ignore it--

A horse shrieked. I jerked my head around, peering through the fog, but couldn't determine the direction. Another frenzied shriek – that couldn't possibly have come from my gentle nag dozing in the barn.

I made it to the ditch and started running in the dirt toward home. My eyes went wide when I made out the sound of hooves crushing the shells; a horse was speeding toward me. From behind me? Farther down the drive? I couldn't tell!

"This isn't real!" I shouted to my self. "It feels real!" My heart pounded back as I ran.

The dirt covered cuts on my feet were screaming at me as I ran. "Faster idiot!" I scolded myself "Why did I pick cheer leading? Why couldn't I have chosen something useful? Like track team!"

"Because you like dancing and cheering and popularity. Little good that does when someone is chasing you on a bloody horse and trying to run you down!" I screamed in fear, running as fast as I could.

Hooves pounded closer…closer as I kept running. He was right behind me now. Finally the end of the drive was in sight. Haven House loomed…on the opposite edge of the drive. No!

I turned to face my pursuer, the cane fields at my back, trapped. I slipped through, two rows of canes between me and him. This close to harvest, the cane was mature, twice as tall as I was. I could lose anyone in those rows. But I needed to see him first.

I gaped up at him. He wore black armor with a fearsome helmet. The weapon he'd wielded was a scythe; it now sat glinting in a saddle holster. His pale stallion had red eyes.

As he spurred that mount to stalk back and forth at the edge of the field, I fought realization..

Scythe. Black armor. A pale horse.

This was…Death. The classic image of the Grim Reaper.

His horse's mane was blowing in a wind that I could not feel. The feathery leaves of the cane above me were still. As I stared at him, the regular soundtrack of the farm, my own horse whinnying in her sleep, katydids chirping – gave way to the sounds of gravel crunching underfoot, that breeze picking up, and the occasional…hiss?

Behind Death, Haven House began to disappear, transformed into a space of gleaming black, cluttered with crushed pillars and piles of rubble. Like ancient city ruins?

I sensed this was his barren, soulless lair, and his plane seemed to be pressing against my own. Would he find my half of the world- all green and misty with sultry night air – as incomprehensible as I seemed to find his?

If he left, would my house come back? Would my mother come back? This dream had gone from mind-blowingly wrong to horrifying. I couldn't process this and I wanted it over!

So for it to be over I needed to give this Death visitor guy whatever he wanted so he would go away so my home would come back!

He dismounted and strode to the edge of the field, but he wouldn't enter the cane. Why?

His jet-black armor was clearly from olden times, yet sported no chinks. Because no one had landed a blow against him? He had two wicked-looking swords, one sheathed at each hip.

I found my backbone and strode one row forward, almost near enough to touch him. Then I asked him, "Who are you?"

"Who am I, she asks." My question amused him? "Life in your blood, in your very touch" -his voice was as raspy as the dry leaves, his accent foreign, though I couldn't pinpoint it-"and yet no one told you to expect me?" There was a light shining behind the grille of his helmet, as if his eyes glowed.

"That's right. No one told me to expect you. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Why don't you remove your helmet and introduce yourself, since you seem to already know so much about me?" I drew on chilly southern manners. It was just rude to speak to strangers as though you knew them, when they didn't know you.

"Do you play games with me? He asked, his tone scornful. Death removed his spiked metal gloves, revealing a man's hands, pale and perfect. "You know me. You always know, well before my blade strikes you down."

My knees turned weak and I sank to the ground, "Just a dream," I thought. "You want to kill me? Why? What did I ever do to you?"

He dropped to one knee at the edge of the cane and reached for me, "Come to me, Empress." He wanted me to come to him, when he'd told me he would kill me?!

Something in memory whispered, "Empress Evie, Empress Evie…"

"You're insane." I choked out. "Why would I come to you if you're going to kill me?"

His hand was mere inches from my arm, but I was paralyzed, transfixed by the light coming from behind his helmet—until something drew my attention.

Behind Death, I spied a hideous horned boy, more like a hunchbacked beast—skulking among the ruins. Ropy lines of spittle dangled from his bottom lip.

Death followed the direction of my gaze. "Don't mind Ogen." he said. "El Diablo is an old ally of mine."

"I'll make a feast of your bones," Ogen hissed at me as he sharpened one of his horns against stone. The grating sound was unbearable, shaking the rubble like an earthquake, making me want to scream. "Suck the marrow dry as you watch."

"Ignore him. Think of me alone." Death reached closer. "I've waited so long to face you again. Aren't you ready to have done with this?"

"Must we be enemies?" I pleaded. I didn't understand any of this.

"You have much to atone for. We have a long and ancient history you and I. Expect me." His hand still reached, but slowly, almost as though toward a wild and wary animal.

The cane bent unnaturally around me, as if to cage me in. Hadn't Gran always called the stalks "soldiers at attention"?

Was the cane trying to protect me?

"It begins directly at the End, Empress." His hand was an inch away. Some part of me felt a desperation in him that I didn't understand.

I scrambled back from him, wincing as pain ripped down my legs. Bloody stripes dripped down the sides of my thighs. How had I cut myself? I raised my hands, and gaped with horror.

My nails were razor-sharp, a purplish-red color. I'd seen that sinister shade a thousand times before—that triangular shape before.

They looked like rose thorns.

No, no, no, "NO!" I couldn't hold back that last no and it fell from my lips with a shriek. I didn't want to turn into her. I couldn't be like her! My gaze swung to Death in horror. Had he seen my thorn claws? Thorn claws like the red witch's? Blackness wavered in my vision, blurring Death, his lair, his hideous ally. Tears fell from my eyes, and laughter bubbled up. Perfect. How much more effed up could this dream get?! I didn't want to be like that Bitch of a Witch in any way! And now I had her claws? Why?

Death had gone silent when I'd cried out in horror at my claws, and had promised to return for me, to finish our battle and to have the payment I owed him, whatever that was.

I woke up , shooting upright in bed, covered with sweat, still crying, and nearly hysterical.

My nails had turned into rose thorns in the dream, just like the red witch's, slashing my legs until they'd bled, but instead of waking in the fields, I'd woken in bed, my leg bleeding on the sheets. Mom had come in, asking me if I was alright, asking me to tell her what was wrong, what I'd dreamed of, as though I would make that mistake again. I told her in a strong voice, "I will tell you when I need your help."

That took her off guard, but she seemed to take me at my word, wished me sweet dreams, and left.

My sketch that night was of Death. Why did he chase me? What had I ever done to deserve his enmity? I recalled his armor, how very large and strong he seemed, his strange accent when he spoke. I didn't like his ally.

I also wrote as many of his words and mine as I could remember on the back of his sketch, trying to "listen" better. I wrote El Diablo's short phrase after a moment of pause, deciding I didn't want to forget any of it.

I took a moment to get out my computer again, this time searching out Empress, Death, El Diablo or Devil, and leaving out the boy who walked over the cliff with the dog on his heels since that hadn't worked last time.

Still nothing. Frustrated I wiped the history again and tried to catch a couple more hours of sleep before school.