Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (3 page)

I was thankful we had finished most of the project last week. Stacey was definitely a princess but she wasn’t lazy
, and I guess it motivated her that this project would be the difference between whether she passed or failed the class. 

“I really need an A,” she whined, almost as if reading my mind.

I smiled at her. “We’ll get an A,” I reassured her. After all, I couldn’t remember the last time I got less than an A on any project. The thought felt arrogant, which reminded me of that smile. My face dropped as I began to ponder the obscurity of the knight; why did Mr. Riley seem so secretive about it?

“What’s wrong?” Stacey asked suddenly full of concern.

I sat up, slightly embarrassed at myself. “Just stressing over finals.” I gave her a weak smile. It wasn’t entirely a lie, and I certainly couldn’t tell her I was becoming obsessed with a medieval painting. 

“Were you able to get some shifts covered this week?” she asked, still seeming worried.

“Yeah, everyone jumped on the extra hours.”

“And you’ll be okay on money?” S
he glanced at her perfectly manicured nails.

My stomach dropped.
Ugh money
, another concern. I was working double shifts as a waitress just to make rent. I gave another weak smile. “Yep.”

She looked at me doubtfully. “W
ell, if not, I can cover you...”

She might have been a princess
, but she was a kind-hearted one. I knew money came easy to her, but I didn’t need her to take care of me. I definitely didn’t want to come off like a freeloader. She already paid the larger portion of rent, justifying it by taking the master bedroom. I needed to take care of myself that was just how it was going to be.

“No seriously, I’ll be fine. Thank you though.” I took another bite of spaghetti not wanting to talk about it anymore.

“I really think your father should be helping you out on money,” she said saucily. “It is the
least
he can do.” She crossed her arms. “You’re his daughter, who cares what that wife of his thinks.”

I frowned; her words bothered me. I was over eightee
n; he wasn’t responsible for me. In fact, he hadn’t been responsible for me for nearly seven years now, and that had been
my
choice. I couldn’t stand it when he got remarried. I felt it to be a betrayal to my mother—who had died in a car accident not even a year earlier—but I also wanted him to be happy, so I asked to move to California with my grandfather; it seemed like the best solution. It wasn’t his fault. I was the one who left him in Colorado. “No, I’m fine,” I muttered, staring into the container of spaghetti that now didn’t seem so appealing.

She raised an eyebrow before deciding to drop it. Then her face lit up. “Oh
, guess what!”

I smiled thankful for the distraction and also amused at how easily my friend could change moods.

“Steeeeeven called me,” she squealed.

I laughed. Steven was in our history class too. He was a year
older and on the football team— tall, blonde, and handsome, very much like a Ken-doll. Stacey had spent most of the semester trying to get his attention.

“What’d he say? You have to tell me everything.” I wasn’t really into gossip
, but I played the part because I knew it’d get her talking so I wouldn’t have to, and then I’d be free to think about the medieval knight. 

She ran her hand over the lovely frame that surrounded the painting, admiring her work. She liked him much better this way, and it had been so easy; she could thank his arrogance for that.

It was simply a penalty for his defiance, to put fear into that dark heart. Soon, his comrades would save him; they would reveal what she needed, and he would be forced to cooperate. She chuckled lightly and traced her dainty white fingers over the inscription.

“A face so beautiful, it belongs in a painting,” she cooed, “and there you will stay until I have what is mine!”

My alarm buzzed annoyingly, jolting me out of sleep. I couldn’t quite remember my dream
, but I was haunted by menacing eyes and crooked smiles. I groaned slapping my hand down on the off button.

“Three more days,” I muttered. Then it would be summer break
, and I would be able to pick up extra shifts to hopefully rebuild my ever so dwindling savings account. I threw the fluffy white comforter off me and rolled out of bed, stretching out my back, suddenly renewed with excitement.

After classes, I would get to see Brendelon again. I was so giddy it was embarrassing. I practically danced my way into the bathroom and turned on the hot shower.

Big blue eyes stared back at me as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, waiting for the water to heat up. I toyed with my long blonde hair that always seemed to have slight waves in it, thankful I lived in California and could get away with the “beach waves” look. I ran my hands down from my hair onto my sun-kissed cheeks, trying to imitate the knight’s charming smile, but it was useless; I would never be able to copy that mesmerizing grin. I had never seen one like it, and it left me awestruck. I tried to imagine his personality. He was definitely brave; his eyes were free of fear but they were slightly wicked too. Perhaps he was funny with some sort of twisted sense of humor, after all who really smiles like that while going into battle? Or maybe he was just as crazy as Mr. Riley and me. I chuckled quietly at the thought as the mirror slowly steamed up, covering the certifiably insane girl from my view.

*****

Stacey sauntered into the kitchen, just as I spooned the last bite of apple-cinnamon oatmeal into my mouth. She looked lovely as ever. Her long soft brown curls bounced flawlessly as she walked. She was always polished to perfection, never a hair out of place or a smudge in her perfectly applied make-up. Yep, if we lived in Brendelon’s time, she would definitely be of nobility, where as I would probably be a peasant of some sort. I frowned as I washed my dish out in the sink and placed it carefully in the dishwasher.

“So are you planning on seeing Steven?” I asked to distract myself from my delusional thoughts, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring it into a metal travel mug with a red Maridon University logo on the front.

She grinned. “Yes, we’re going to lunch.” I smiled back, grabbing my black book bag from the counter. “You know… I could see if he has a friend. We could double date!” she practically squealed.  

“Uh, I don’t think so.” I gave a short laugh.
“I don’t have time for dates.”

She frowned
. “You need to live a little, Katarina,” she scolded, pulling her bagel out of the toaster. “You’re only eighteen after all.”

“I’m almost nineteen,” I joked. “P
lus dating is not high on my priority list right now.”

“You’re so lost in your own world
, you don’t even see how many guys are drooling over you,” she said, grabbing cream cheese from the refrigerator.

I shook my head.
I didn’t believe her and even if it were true, I wouldn’t be interested in the guys I went to school with; they were all still living off of their parents’ checking accounts with their only concern being where the next big party was. They had no clue about the harsh realities of life, and the last thing I wanted to do was put hooks in the ground.

“I’m serious,” she said looking up at me with big brown eyes
, under thick perfect eyelashes. “You hardly wear any makeup and you still look gorgeous, imagine if you dolled yourself up.” Her eyes lit up, and I could imagine that she was suddenly intrigued with the idea of making me her own personal project. I had better make my escape before she got too far in her ideas.

“Maybe some other time
, I better hurry before I’m late. See ya later, Stace,” I called heading for the door quickly, ignoring her sudden frown. She took a big bite of her bagel and mumbled a sloppy goodbye. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t always so glamorous, and despite myself I laughed at the sight of it.

*****

I only had English Composition and College-Algebra, but they both were long classes and the seconds seemed to creep extra slow. I shifted uncomfortably in the small plastic chair as I tried to concentrate on last bit of information the professor was giving out before the final exams, but of course I couldn’t stop thinking about the knight. I slowly doodled circles and hearts on my notebook paper, thinking of Mr. Riley’s words. He said it was a long story, but I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. The book had information on King Arthur and his knights; did that mean he was one of them? But I had never heard of him in any of the legends or myths. Surely, a knight like that would have been talked about. Deep down I hoped he wasn’t because there was something about the portrait that made me want to believe he had been real, not some fictional character without thoughts of his own. There was too much life in those indomitable eyes and charismatic grin, but why would he be in the book? It didn’t quite make sense, and Mr. Riley seemed hesitant to discuss it, which only had me more suspicious.

Dark, menacing eyes flashed through my mind. Could it be possible that he was a dark knight? Maybe he wasn’t one of the good ones that were always idolized in stories. I shook my hea
d. I had trouble believing that; a face beautiful enough to be an angel’s couldn’t be evil, but the questions continued to burn through my mind.

The class mumbled something in agreement.
Darn
, I missed that.

“I will see you Thursday for your final,” Dr. Sims said before the class started picking up their notebooks and shutting down their laptops.

I quickly shoved my books into my bag and bustled out of class, practically running to my car.

I saw the white mustang—another Stacey hand-me-down that had been sold to me for next to no
thing—wedged between two trucks. A light salty breeze blew past me, and it felt like freedom; I was minutes away from seeing him again. I popped open the trunk and threw my book bag in before slamming it shut.

“Can’t wait for school to be out
, huh?” I jumped at the booming voice and spun around, squinting into the sunlight to make out the dark silhouette of a medium-height guy.

Chris
.

Darn. I didn’t want to stop and chit-chat,
but it wasn’t in me to be rude. “Hey Chris,” I said politely. We had the same English and history class, which meant I saw him every school day, and recently that had started to become a bad thing. He was nice and cute but just not my type, and I was starting to get the feeling he didn’t quite agree with me on our “just friends” status.

“So… what are your plans for summer?” he hedged, uncomfortably, scratching his head carefully as to not mess up his light brown hair that he carefully gelled to, in fact, look messy. I felt like rolling my eyes at the irony of it but faked a smile instead.

“Just working, hopefully I’ll be able to get more shifts.”

His lips curled into a small smile that seemed rather dull and unattractive compared to the wide, brilliant
, and alluring smile of the dark knight I had discovered. He began mumbling things of no importance.
Ugh. Just get on with it
, I wanted to scream. I didn’t want to be impolite, but I really needed to go. I glanced down at my watch only to realize I had forgotten it along with my bracelet. I pulled my hair to the side, feeling the hot sun press against my skin as anxiety climbed higher and higher in my stomach.

“Hey listen, do you think we catch up later?” I interrupted. “I need to run. I have to hurry to Riley’s Museum to get some research in for the history project.”

He looked a little hurt but nodded his head in understanding, “oh, um, yeah sure.”

“Is your proj
ect coming along okay?” I asked mostly to salvage some of his feelings.

He laughed an
d squeezed the back of his neck. “Uhhh, well, it’ll do.”

I smiled back.
“I’m sure it will be fine—”

“Maybe we could get lunch one day,” he blurted out, dark brown eyes looking slightly terrified.

My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to get lunch with him. It caused my insides to twist in knots and not in the good butterfly way but in the sick, acidy, bile kind of way. “Sure,” I mumbled, unable to bring myself to hurt his feelings.

He beam
ed showing another boring grin. “Great.”

I smiled weakly
, hating what was about to come from this. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.
Bye, Kate.”

I clambered into my car and let out a groan.
Three more days,
I reminded myself. It would be easy to avoid him after that. I checked my mirror and pulled out of the parking spot. I would deal with this later because for now I had work to do and a knight to see.

*****

I quickly parallel parked on the side of the curb across the street from the museum, thankful it was only a short drive from school. I rolled up the window and grabbed my camera from the center console so excited my hands were shaking. 

I threw open my door and stepped out of the car without even looking, as a bright red sports car whizzed by so close I could feel the power of its speed push roughly against me. My heart beat frantically as my brain came to terms with my near road-kill experience. I scolded myself for letting this odd obsession hinder my awareness; it was getting out of hand. I sighed, slowly calming down and carefully looked both ways this time before I jogged across the street and up the large concrete steps that led to the large glass door entrance. 

I approached the counter where a bleach blonde-haired girl with an orange-like tan sat behind the lobby desk, snapping her bubble gum.

“Hey…Melissa,
” I said as I read her name tag. “I’m here to see Mr. Riley.”

“One moment,” she said dully. She picked up the phone and dialed a number using her long bright pink acrylic nails.

“Someone is here for you.” She tilted her head to me with a bored expression. “Katarina Cole?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Yes,” she said flatly into the phone before dropping it into its cradle. “He said he’ll meet you in the storage room.”

I scurried across the shiny gray linoleum floor and opened the heavy backdoor to an already lit up unit.

“Mr. Riley?” I called out.

“Over here, Katarina!”

I followed his voice to the familiar aisle that held the ancient medieval artifacts. He was leafing through the old book again. Now might be a good time to ask him about Brendelon.

I shifted my weight. “S
o … what was that story you were going to tell me about Brendelon the knight?”

He closed the book, looking over his spectacles at me with one
eyebrow raised. “What do you know about Brendelon?” 

What do
I
know? He was the expert not me.

“Only that he was a knight.”

He laughed. “Yes, of course. It’s just interesting because your grandfather knew quite a bit on Brendelon. I wasn’t sure if he told you anything.”

I stared at him stunned, so Grandpa had been holding out on
me,
too.

Mr. Riley laughed at my expression,
his rosy cheeks becoming redder. “Well, to answer your question, Brendelon was a cousin of King Arthur.” My heart fell slightly that he really was only a fictional character. I couldn’t hide the letdown, but Mr. Riley’s focus was somewhere else. “He fought alongside Arthur’s famous knights. He was swifter than Sir Lancelot, more loyal than Sir Kay, and braver than Sir Gawain,” he explained admirably before pausing to finally look at me. “He could have very likely been one of Arthur’s greatest knights when it came to skills in battle, but he isn’t talked about in the mythological legends that people write now-a-days.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his gray trousers.

“How come?”
I asked, still ridiculously intrigued despite the disappointment. 

“Well, he disappeared. He vanished before Camelot was the romanticized
version that you read of today. In fact, it use to be named Caerleon; it was before Arthur married or even met Guinevere, before the Round Table was established, and even before Arthur was made High King.”

I shook my head,
scrunching my eyebrows together. “You mean before be pulled the sword?’