Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (16 page)

   But within all of the uncertainty surrounding that night's events, one thing remains clear as crystal: They are, most definitely, bonded as one. One heart. One breath. One mind. One spirit. Bonded together, by that night.

  
By our blood – We are bonded.

   By our bond – We now bleed.

   We will drink from each other's blood.

   United together within The Sisterhood.

  Caroline glances over at Rebecca, “You do know you're going to have to start calling her 'Tamara's Submissive' instead of 'skank', don't you?”

   Rebecca grins, “Such a beautiful ring, don't you think?”

   “You
know
I do,” Caroline states flatly.

   Rebecca teases, “And I, also,
know
that my sweet bff is a liar.” She follows up by poking her tongue out.

   Caroline shakes her head with a knowing grin.

   Rebecca pulls into the student parking lot of West Hills High. Caroline sees a commotion over by a parked Corvette convertible.

   “Isn't that Tamara's car?” the girl asks Rebecca already knowing the answer. After all, there's no mistaking Tamara's vette. It has been painted to match the blue-metallic coloring of Rebecca's Mustang. As has the BMW in which Jennifer drives.

   The blond glances over to where Tamara and Jennifer usually park their cars. A rusted brown truck sits in Tamara's spot. No one would ever dream of taking
that
spot. The entire school is aware of who owns the spot by way of claim staking, Tamara Hillary Stilliard. Yet, there is the new girl.

   “Oh, it is so on,” the excited Rebecca promises as she pulls in behind Tamara's blue vette. When her car stops, the gathering crowd moves further away from the escalating scene. Some students even walk across the street in an attempt to avoid the situation altogether.

   Caroline and Rebecca get out of the car. They both quickly walk to the location of confrontation. Tamara has her rings on her right hand. Rings, specifically, designed and purchased for keeping wayward females in line. The jagged stones in each ring are for cutting. Their sole purpose is to compensate for her lack of strength in that arm; since, the tall girl is dominant left. But it would be a grave mistake for anyone to believe her right was somehow insufficient in battle. Her right is not weak, whatsoever. It's just not as strong as her left. The scary truth is that: Tamara's right arm has more strength than most girls have with both of theirs.

   But as cruel as the rings with stones can be, they are not nearly as morbid as the ones she wears on her left hand. They are high-end specialty class-style rings with raised lettering. Each of the four rings, whenever Tamara makes solid contact, leaves behind a phrase which undoubtedly identifies a Tamara's Submissive.

   Her pinky ring spells out her initials when viewed on a girl's face. The ring finger's ring has two quarter moons within its center. The downward arch spells the word '
Sub
' while the upward arch has the word '
Missive
'.  Tamara's middle ring is designed like her ring finger's ring. However, the word '
Property
' arches the top while the word '
Of
' aligns the bottom. And, finally, the ring on her index finger leaves behind the initials
'S.V.C.
' for all to read.

   Caroline notices campus security making their morning rounds. The security vehicle turns onto the block which leads up by the student's parking lot.

   “Security,” Caroline warns. She sees the frightened girl pinned by Tamara's long extended left arm against the driver's side door of her brown Chevy truck.

   “You've messed with the wrong girls, bitch,” the towering female threatens.

   “I said I was sorry,” the shaky student pleas, “I didn't know this was your spot. I really didn't.”

   “Tamara,” Rebecca regretfully confirms, “Not now. Security's coming.”

   Tamara pulls the girl by her cheap sweatshirt and slams her hard against the door.

   “This isn't over. Move this crap now,” the experienced fighter commands.

   “Get lost freaks or you can be next,” Jennifer orders to the stragglers who decided to stay behind and watch. The students disburse with no desire to stand against the S.V.C. Even the males refuse to disobey Jennifer's order. Everyone in the school understands the social powers wielded by the varsity cheerleaders. All they ever have to do is to play the help me card with the school's jocks. And then a team of high testosterone brutes make easy work of any potential problems.

   Tamara turns and walks back to her vette. Caroline and Jennifer stands next to Jennifer's BMW which is parked to the right side of the new girl's junk heap. Rebecca slides into the driver's seat of her car and puts it into reverse. She backs up a bit, throws the standard transmission into first gear, and pulls around Tamara's vette. She makes her counterclockwise rectangular lap around the parking lot to find her spot in the far right corner facing the school.

   Tamara backs her vette up in order to allow the boxed-in truck an exit. The dark hair of the threatened girl shadows her eyes, but it cannot cover the fear within them. Tamara locks a hard gaze as the new girl glances into her rear view mirror. She waits for the truck to back up and escorts the intruder around the parking lot – taking the same route as Rebecca.

  
Honk. Honk.

   The truck's operator stops and peers into the rear view mirror again. Tamara is pointing to an open slot to her right. It is located at the furthest backside of the lot. The parking row sits opposite of the row in which she had just been parked. But they are separated by the distance of the rows between them.

   The distraught girl complies with Tamara's direction by pulling her truck into her new space. As the seconds continue ticking on, she realizes her attacker is not going to go anywhere. The reluctant teen steps out of her truck. She grabs her backpack, shuts the squeaky door, and stares down at the asphalt while she walks towards the front of the blue-metallic Corvette.

   Tamara revs her engine and jumps her car forward to cut off the girl's obvious path of avoidance.

   “No one parks back here without my permission,” Tamara informs, “You won't have to worry about anyone telling you to move from here. Pick any spot you want in this section. But I want to see you parked in the same spot every day. Understand me?”

   The new girl nods her understanding – keeping her eyes fixated comfortably upon a spot she sees on the parking lot.

  
Gawd, you're beautiful.

   Tamara feels a rush of excitement associated with the inevitable forthcoming fight. The submissive potential this girl is exhibiting is highly intoxicating to the deeply tanned cheerleader. The taller female has never had her anticipation levels soar like this. She has, certainly, never looked upon a soon-to-be Tamara's Submissive beyond the realm of total violence, or beyond the realms of abusive power and control...until now. Something feels different.

   The cheerleader shakes off the rising excitement within her. She reasons her odd behavior is due to the massive amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The interruption by security has only increased her desire to make this girl suffer.

   “See you soon,” Tamara promises. She drives off and finishes her lap around the parking lot. The senior finds her parking spot, stops her car, closes the automatic top, and turns off the roaring V-8 engine. She, methodically, takes off each of the punishment rings and places them with care into her collector's case.

   The bleach blond checks her hair and face within the reflection of her open compact mirror. She closes it, drops it into her purse, and gets out. Tamara holds up her keychain, and clicks the car's alarm over her left shoulder. She joins her waiting sisters by Jennifer's BMW. Together, the Sisterhood walks across the street to make their grand entrance into West Hills High.

   “I told you she was here,” Marcus declares in triumph.

   Jason watches his girlfriend pull into her parking spot. He scans left across the street and sees the captain's blue Mustang parked diagonally in the first two slots. He looks back to the second most coveted spot on S.V.C. Row. His girlfriend's Corvette holds the end position.

   The row has twenty slots and only sixteen female S.V.C. cheerleaders, but they maintain claim over the entire row. It is a tradition passed down from year to year. The school turns their heads about it because of the enormous amount of influence and power the girl's parents hold within the southern California community. Even Jason Deveraux can't park on S.V.C. Row. Upset the girls – you upset their parents. Upset the parents – someone just might lose their job. And whenever someone's job is at stake, no one gets away with tilting the balancing scales of something as mundane as a parking space.

   Something new, however, is the back row of the parking lot. Ever since Tamara began her freshman year, the row has been emptied and replaced with girls who are at the S.V.C.'s beck and call.

   During her freshman year, Tamara didn't qualify to be a member of the S.V.C. All freshman cheerleaders are required to remain as junior varsity. This included Rebecca, Caroline, and Jennifer. Tamara and the others were too young to drive anyway. So in this aspect, it didn't even matter. The parking lot was by all rights a minute point for them. But still yet, the four girls found a way to announce their arrival. And they set a standard that they were to not be taken lightly.

   The first Tamara Submissive was a girl in the junior class. She was an unruly female who bullied the younger girls – always the smaller and weaker ones. Three months into Caroline's, Jennifer's, Tamara's, and Rebecca's freshman year, the bully made a terrible mistake. She shoved little Caroline against a locker and slapped her. It was for no other reason than to cause Caroline to be humiliated and thereby becoming socially owned by the girl. And had not Rebecca seen the event with her own eyes, Caroline might not have said anything about it. The bully had a way of picking out the girls who would remain silent. But Rebecca is anything, but silent. And Caroline is her bff.

   Whenever, Tamara found out from Rebecca what had happened, West Hills High would never be the same. Forever changed. Or at the very least, the backside row of the student's parking lot would be.

   Rumor has it that Tamara waited by the bully's car after school that day. She didn't announce anything about her intentions. And the beating the bully received was unprecedented by any girl fight prior to this. In fact, there's not one single girl fight story with this much blood associated to it in all of West Hills High's history. Not until the first Tamara's Submissive was created, that is.

   Tamara is not only tall, but she is an accomplished fighter. No one except her friends knows if she is actually trained or not. And she denies it to Jason. But to anyone who has ever witnessed a girl fight, the answer is obvious. Jason knows she is. And for whatever reasons, she chooses to not speak about it. But that's her choice and he's fine with it. In fact, it's kind of sexy having a girlfriend who might give Lara Croft a run for the money.

   The six-foot four-inch Jason wouldn't tell anyone about it, but he has tested Tamara's skills in a playful way and she made quick work of him within mere seconds. She did it in such a way as to not diminish his masculinity, but made sure to convince him of her skill set. Tamara
is
a trained fighter. And she is very good at it. Jason knows the truth. No matter how she plays it off.

   Of course, every time Jason attempts an inquiry into the truth of the matter, Tamara never tells. She only grins. To top things off, she is an expert at invoking a playful wrestling match with him and then placing herself into a compromising position. This always gives him the upper-hand. And this is what gives her away even more than actually witnessing her in a real fight. Jason feels her making these calculated self-sabotaging moves. Deep down, he knows for certain that Tamara is more than capable of taking out a fairly big male having no training. She is a lot stronger than she looks by first glance.

   The bully who mistakenly chose to make Caroline Reynold's her victim, spent three days in the hospital. She never told on Tamara. And no one else cared because the bully had it coming. Even the school seemed satisfied with the lack of witnesses in the case. They brushed it under the rug. And that is something they never do. They are very thorough about these sorts of things; especially, with the threat of a possible school shooting always lingering overhead.

   Even the police couldn't make an arrest because they, too, had nothing to go on. But the bully did have friends. And they sought out Tamara, Caroline, Rebecca, and Jennifer while their friend was lying in her hospital bed.

   No one really knows what happened; since, everyone kept their mouths shut about it. But whenever the bully returned to school, there were two more juniors, one senior, and a sophomore who all parked on what is now known as
Submissive's Row
. Only those five girls parked on that row. And every one of them parked in the same spot for the duration of their high school years. These were the only girls who were forced to remain a Tamara's Submissive for longer than a single school term. Therefore, the lone senior among them was lucky within this regard.

   Over the years, the school has reluctantly investigated the four Blue Hounds of Hell as some students have nicknamed them. The blue comes from the matching paint jobs on each of their cars. And if Jason had to take a wild guess, the Hounds of Hell most likely references his girlfriend. However, the school has never made anything stick. Any witness always recants their story. And that's if they talk in the first place. The majority do not. And while Jason doesn't necessarily agree with the whole Tamara's Submissive ordeal, he can understand how it all came to be. She was only protecting a friend. Someone she loved was being threatened and hurt. So she took care of it.