Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3) (19 page)

“What?” Arianna spat hostilely.  “You have something to say?” she challenged, but Beth did not flinch.  Arianna began to feel the same odd pull toward her she’d felt the first day she’d met her.  She remembered it had been significant then.  Arianna quirked her brow at Beth and Beth wagged her index finger at Arianna as if she were a naughty child.  The gesture was as perplexing as it was annoying.  What the hell was the pint-sized girl doing?  She shook her head and looked annoyed, warning Beth off.  Beth shrugged and began walking into the front entrance of the school.

Arianna supposed she should do the same, but the bizarre beginning to her day gave her pause.  What else did the day have in store for her? she wondered.  And now with a visit to Scott’s house looming on the horizon, she guessed it did not hold anything good.  In fact, she had a strong feeling that her day would be all downhill from this point on. 

Reluctantly, she straightened her posture and clutched her books to her chest.  She walked toward the school building and noticed that it no longer looked like a friendly
, welcoming structure.  Instead, it seemed to rise from the ground with sharp, hostile angles, dark against a fairytale pink sky.  It looked ominous, sinister.  She wanted nothing more than to turn from it, turn from Scott and the others, turn from her calling, and head off toward somewhere warm and sunny, a place where supernatural beings did not lurk, a place where she could be at peace.  But she knew that no such place existed, for her at least, and that peace was something she was unlikely to ever attain.  So she made her way across the parking lot toward a destiny she never wanted and began her day.

Chapter 13

Arianna had spent the more than six hours of her school day feeling equal parts angry and unsettled.  Each moment of the six hours had crept
by at a snail’s pace, making the stretch of time seem interminable.  She’d felt like a ticking time bomb poised to explode at any second.  But those who’d been deserving of her wrath had been strategically protected, always shielded by innocents, or George.  That fact had generated frustration unlike any she’d ever experienced.  She had not known what to do with it, how to channel it.  Without a form of release, it had festered, gnawing and biting from the inside out like a parasite.  All she’d wanted was for the day to end, yet it had dragged on mercilessly.  She’d craned her neck to glimpse clocks on so many occasions during the day that she swore she’d pulled a muscle.  But pulled muscles were the least of her problems.  Catching sight of Scott and George, as well as the others, throughout the course of the day, seeing their nauseatingly smug faces and knowing that she would have to wait to unleash her fury had been her biggest problem.

Now, as she paced her small living room and contemplated her expected
attendance at Scott’s house, the school day seemed like a distant memory.  She glanced out the sliding glass doors off the kitchen and saw that the sun had grudgingly relinquished its grip on the day.  It peeked from the horizon line, just a sliver of waning gold, while breadths of pink and purple streaked the sky.  Darkness was coming, and soon.

Arianna ran
a hand through her hair and blew out a long breath.  Originally, she’d had no intention of going to Scott’s house.  She’d planned to tell him to go to hell if he so much as questioned her the next day at school for not going.  But she’d never been the type of person to run from tough situations.  She’d always confronted them head-on.  She would not hide from Scott and the others and she would not run.  She would stay in Hallowed Hills.  She’d been drawn there for a reason, and she was not leaving until she found out what that reason was.  She began to question her decision to stay home.  But could she really go? She wondered. 

W
orry needled her brain.  With George in place, she was vulnerable.  They could kill her if they chose to.  The only rebuttal to that worry was the fact that if they truly wanted her dead, they could have killed her last night at the party along with Sarah and the others.  She could have easily been one of the alleged victims of Sarah’s bogus murder-spree.  But she had not been.  Perhaps they’d wanted something else from her.  Either way, she would not know if she stayed home. 

Arianna pinched the bridge of her nose.  Pressure had
amassed in her forehead and around her eyes.  Nothing about Scott and the others made sense, and she was growing more aggravated with every second that passed.  Her hand dropped from her face and fell slack at her side, her fingertips prickling with the burning need for vengeance.  She concentrated on a glass she’d placed in the sink, focusing all her energy at it and watched it shatter at her command.  Delight tiptoed down her spine, and in that moment, she decided she was not going to waste any more time debating whether she would go.  She stalked off toward her bedroom and began dressing. 

After she’d selected pieces from her wardrobe that represented her mood – a black sweater, black skinny jeans and her black motorcycle boots – Arianna was ready to leave.  Scott had slid a piece of paper with his address under her windshield wiper earlier in the day and had scribbled ‘
Be There at 6:30’
on it.  His nerve at ordering her there, as if he held some kind of authority over her, had made her bristle when she’d read it.  She bristled still as she double-checked the address before entering it into her GPS navigation system. 

The drive took less than twenty
minutes and she’s smoked half a dozen cigarettes during the short trip.  She’d needed to keep her hands busy for fear they would get her into trouble otherwise.  When she pulled down a tree-lined lane in a middle-class neighborhood in town, she felt surprised.  She did not know why, but she’d expected him to live on a more isolated street, one surrounded by darkened woods or a cemetery, one that looked as hostile as he truly was.  Her imagination had him living where a monster in a horror movie would.  But he did not.  Instead, he lived on a cheery, well-lit street complete with cast-iron lampposts painted black, each crowned with a set of three globes.  SUVs in varying colors and makes occupied well-maintained driveways that led to nearly identical Colonial-style houses.  Her overall impression was that Scott hid in plain sight, a wolf nestled comfortably among a flock of well-to-do sheep smack in the middle of suburban heaven.  The thought made her stomach churn.

She was about to light yet another cigarette to combat the sudden nausea she was feeling when the voice coming from her GPS informed her that Scott’s house was ahead.  Number twenty-seven on an absurdly upbeat name
d street called Merryville Road was the address he’d given her.  With cream-colored siding, chocolate trim and landscaping that was impeccable, his house looked as if it had been built of gingerbread.  Steep roof pitches were softened by the color of the material selected which matched the trim and looked like icing.  All that was missing was a pair of candy canes on either side of the entrance and peppermint rounds below the first-story windows.  The columns beneath the overhang at the front door sufficed as substitutes for the candy canes, and perfectly rounded shrubbery stood in for peppermint rounds. 

“Is this a joke?” Arianna muttered to herself as she parked her car at the curb. 
“The fucker lives in Candy Land.”

Scott’s house looked as lovely and inviting as a house possibly could.  Little did his neighbors know, he was a murderous
supernatural being.  She guessed he and his family neglected to share that tidbit of information at barbecues at soccer games. 

As she climbed out o
f her car and walked to the front door, she realized that her rusted Toyota stood out like a sore thumb among the newer, higher-end cars parked along the street.  She chuckled to herself, imagining concerned neighbors peeking out from behind designer window treatments, wondering who’d have the audacity to park such an old, atrocious car in front of their house, hoping that no one would think it was
their
company doing it. 

She rang the bell and waited.  What was next, she wondered, a white poodle and a little sister with pigtails twirling her baton in the foyer?  But all idyllic images ended when Scott answered the door with a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Ah Arianna,” he smiled, but his smile stopped short of his eyes.  “Glad you could make it.”

“Huh, that makes
one of us,” she replied coldly then added, “Your parents let you drink?” as she eyed the beer he clutched.

“Did she just say parents?” Jess called from another room, her shrill voice echoing through the high ceilings.  Her comment was followed by an uproar of laughter.

“Guess I missed the punch line,” Arianna said and did not understand what all the laughter was about.

“Oh, it’s the whole parent thing,” Scott said as if she would know just what he was referring to.

She looked at him and tried her damnedest to invoke George’s dead-eyed expression.  “And?” she said flatly.

“Oh, right,” Scott said and smirked.  “You don’t know anything.  I forgot.”  He took a long swig of his beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing.  “We don’t have parents
, not that live here, at least.”

“None of you?” she asked and could not mask her surprise. 

“Nope,” he said casually.  “We all live here in this house without any parental supervision.”

“You all live here, together?” she stated more than asked.

“That’s right.”

“How do you explain that to the school?  I mean, haven’t they called child protective services or anything?”

“We all have other addresses,” he said in a patronizing tone of voice.  “Duh, we’d have to be idiots not to.  And those of us whose parents still live nearby in town vouch for us.”

Arianna arched a brow at him.  “Really,” she said coolly.

“They know what will happen to them if they don’t,” he said as an evil smile spread across his lips.  He slid his index finger across his throat in a slitting motion and Arianna felt her insides begin to simmer. 

“Oh wow, where are my manners?” he said and replaced his wicked smile with a warm expression that would have fooled anyone, except her.  “Please, come in.  Welcome to my home,” he stepped back and swept his arm to the side.  As he did, ornate wall sconces
that held unlit candles burned brightly at his order. 

“Nice,” she said ironically, unimpressed and unwilling to hide it.

He walked in front of her, leading her to an open living room and dining-room area.  Hardwood floors gleamed as if they’d been freshly polished and the walls, a warm shade of caramel
, were offset by white moldings. More sconces holding candles adorned the walls and overstuffed couches had been situated around a large fireplace.  Jess, Josh, Chris, Meg and George were there.

“There’s our girl,” Meg said in a chipper voice.

“Yeah, here I am,” Arianna replied dryly and locked eyes with George.

In her mind, she imagined she was boring a hole in George’s oblong skull, drilling through to the other side.  He, and only he, was the
lone barrier between her and the others.  His ability to suppress her powers was the one thing protecting all of them. 

She glowered at him with unrelenting intensity.  To her delight, he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her hateful stare.  It was the first time she’d see him exhibit the slightest shred of humanity, of weakness.  She was pleased.  He lowered his eyes to his hands clasped in his lap and a part of Arianna wished she could jog a victory lap around the room. 

She watched him for several more seconds to punctuate the psychic point she wished to communicate then looked away.

She scanned the room, taking in where everyone was, where doors and windows were, where sharp or heavy objects were, when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention.  A large figure moved with impossible speed and she turned to face it.  When she did, she saw a man, a very familiar man, and her breath caught in her chest.

She’d seen him before, last night, in fact.  She’d seen him in her nightmare.  He had appeared wraithlike, haunting, as she’d plunged headlong in to darkness so gloomy she doubted she’d return.

Recognition must have raced across her features because h
is eyes, the same shade of tropical blue as Desmond’s eyes, watched her, dancing with curiosity.  He smiled and dimples at the center of both cheeks deepened, dimples identical to Desmond’s dimples.

“Hello Arianna Rose,” the man said, his voice rich and deep.

“Hello,” she said.  “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh forgive me,” he said and took several steps toward her.

He’d made no move to harm her, yet she flinched instinctively.  He looked pleasant enough, but something in the way he moved made the fine hairs on her body rise and quiver with awareness.

“I am Agnon,” he introduced himself.

Up close, she could see that he had a meticulously groomed beard the same shade as his equally meticulous silver hair.  But despite his hair color, his face was fairly smooth.  Just a few creases lined his eyes, eyes that matched the sky on a clear day and were so familiar her heart ached.  All she could picture was Desmond. 

“Are you well, Arianna?” Agnon asked her
and moved closer.

“I’m fine,”
she lied when in fact, she felt far from fine.  Something about the man unsettled her.  She could not identify why exactly.