Embrace (The Gryphon Series) (2 page)

             
Kendall made a slicing motion across her neck.  My brother’s words cut off as he sucked air in through his teeth.   An awkward silence followed in which all three of them looked anywhere but at me. 

             
In confusion I glanced from one of them to the next, my pony tail tickling across my shoulders with every jerk of my head.  “Since what?”

             
Judging from Keni’s face she was either bracing for an explosion or had smelled something rotten.  “Since the Alec…situation.” 

             
On my list of hot button topics, that was numero uno.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  I spun toward the path to the west of us that led down the mountain and strode off with purposeful strides.

             
“But you need to talk about it, Celeste.  It’s the only way you’ll work through it and find closure.”  Alaina’s velvety voice called after me.

             
Her words awoke the gnawing pain and uncertainty I’d suffered with every since that day in the hospital…

I stopped walking and turned my head just enough for her to hear me. 
“There is no closure about this.  And there won’t be.” 

             
By the time I showered off the last remnants of blood and grime, the house had grown quiet with the stillness of night.  Clad in an old T-shirt and boxer shorts I padded from the bathroom to the bedroom.  A sliver of light under the door and the sound of
Sports Report
signaled Gabe was still awake.  Not that I had any intention of talking to him.  Conversation had been sparse since we got home from patrolling, and that was okay by me.   There was really nothing to say.  Hallmark doesn’t make “sorry your life is a freak show” cards for a reason.  Even they know that particular sentiment is wasted. 

My feet sank into the plush beige carpet
as I crossed the room and clicked on my bedside lamp.  Across from me Kendall was face down in her pillow snoring softly.  I pulled back my lilac comforter to find a scroll tied with a red silk ribbon lying just beneath my pillow.  I exhaled an audible sigh.  There was a time when the sight of these mysterious scrolls gave me a nasty case of the Wiggins, because I didn’t know who they came from, or how they got here.  Now they just made my already battle weary body even more tired.  My bed squeaked as I flopped down on it.  Without any kind of formality I grasped the thick paper and freed it of its ribbon.  Rumor had it the words in these enigmatic notes were written in Gaelic, a language I don’t speak or read.  Yet for some baffling reason I could understand the words written without a problem.  Weird, yes.  But in the scheme of all the other elements of my life, relatively tame.  

            
 
They come.  The prize they seek, the well of a warrior’s strength.  To prevail you must doubt what you trust, and trust what you doubt.

    
I stared at the leathery paper.  My exhausted brain hoped the cryptic riddle would be explained in a follow up paragraph.  Of course it wasn’t.  That would be too easy.  For a moment I toyed with the idea of waking Keni, or showing it to Gabe.  Instead, I pressed my lips together in a firm line, crumpled up the note, and tossed it in the waste basket.  Whoever “they” were, and whatever they were after would reveal itself soon enough.  It always did.  Then I’d handle it just like I handled Darious tonight.  It was as simple as that.

CHAPTER 3

“Next slide.”

Click
. Whirr.

“
Liberty Leading the People
by Eugene Delacroix.  This piece is again from the romantic period.  Many scholars mark the end of the French Revolution as the beginning of the romantic era, and yet the revolution is the very subject matter of this painting.”  With bespectacled eyes Professor Nazleer (dubbed Professor Nose-hair by students) looked up at the lot of us that made up his art history class.  He had a pinched face, a hooked nose, and always dressed in turtle necks and tailored pants.  “What are our thoughts on this piece?”

“That Lady Liberty has a nice rack.”  The football jock seated two rows in front of me
guffawed and smacked the scrawny kid beside him.  The kid winced but forced out a laugh to thwart further wallops.

Professor Nose-hair peered down the bridge of his nose at the
jokester, which made me wonder if he could see his plethora of nose hair from that angle,  “Perhaps we answer as the college students we are supposed to be and not as though we have the mental capacity of a twelve year old.” 

Football dude hung his head like a scolded puppy.

I was only vaguely aware of this interaction as I studied the painting projected on the screen.  This piece had spoken to me when I saw it in our text book.  It depicted a moment in war.  Bodies piled up on the ground.  Men of all social classes and ages brandished weapons to fight.  In the middle of it all, leading the way barefoot over the bodies, was a woman.  She wore a beautiful golden dress that had fallen down to reveal her full bosom—hence Mr. Maturity’s comment.  In one hand she held a musket, in the other the French flag.  In her I saw a warrior, just like me.

I raised my hand and waited for Nose-hair to nod in my direction.  “
I was struck by how true to herself the woman in the painting is in the face of adversity.  She fights alongside the men, leads them in fact, but still maintains her femininity and sense of self.”  A trait I deeply admired as I had yet to master it. 

A few of the other girls in the class nodded
their agreement.

“
Wrong.  Ludicrous.”  The professor scoffed.  “You are looking at her as a real woman as opposed to the symbol she is meant to be.  A woman would not have fought during this time period, such a thing would be unheard of.”  He threw his arms wide as he gestured to the screen.  “She is Liberty.  The mounded up corpses under her feet are the soldiers that sacrificed their lives for her.  They are her pedestal.  One she proudly marches forth on to state for all to hear;
freedom
!” His chest rose and fell, his beady eyes blazed with excitement.  Then he seemed to remember where he was.  He cleared his throat and readjusted his haughty demeanor.   “Symbolism, Miss Garrett.  A topic you may need to research further.”

The
girls that had nodded now sneered in my general direction, as if they too found my comments ridiculous.  Traitors.

Nose-hair checked his watch.  “
We’re out of time for today.  Next class we’ll discuss
Birth of Venus,
Botticelle’s masterpiece , and
From 1434
by Jan van Eyrk.  There may be a pop quiz, so be prepared.”

Papers shuffled and chairs scooted as
my classmates and I rose to file out of the stadium style lecture hall. 

“Miss Garrett,
” The professor called without looking up from the slides he systematically removed from the projector, wiped off, and filed in a slotted folder.  “Would you stay after class for a moment, please?” 

Well
, that’s never a good sign
. 

Utterly confused as to what this could be about,
I flopped back down in my chair and waited for the rest of the class to clear out.  When the last straggler scuffed his way out of the room I rose and ambled up to Nose-hair’s desk.  That’s when my Grams strolled in.  My stomach sank.  It had to be bad if he called in grey-haired reinforcements.

Grams
was decked out in her crazy old lady best.  A gold sequin jacket, shiny satin pants, glittery gold shoes, and her short hair curled up tight in a fresh from the beauty parlor ‘do. She shot me a questioning look. 

I shrugged and mouthed, “no idea.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Garrett.” Nose-hair said with a brisk nod of his head.

Always full of southern charm,
Grams smiled and extended her hand to him.  “Pleasure’s mine, Professor.”  He cringed down at her hand like it was disease ridden, then clasped his hands firmly behind his back.  Grams frowned, but withdrew her hand.

Nose-hair carried on as if the awkward moment hadn’t happened. 
“Am I correct that Celeste’s mother was unavailable for our meeting today?”

“
Yes sir, that’s right.”  Her tight curls didn’t budge as Grams nodded her head.  “Julia is still back in Michigan trying to sell their house.  This economy, you know, can’t
give
stuff away anymore.”

That was obviously more information that he wa
nted.  He barely let her finish. “I see.  Well, I will entrust you to explain the situation to her mother then.” 

There’s a situation?
!

“
Ms. Garrett, I’m going to let you in on a secret all art teachers know, but few ever speak of.”  He paused.  “Art isn’t for everyone.”  I flinched at the pointed look he threw me. “Some people lack the depth and insight to see past the surface of a painting or sculpture.  While they may apply themselves, their shallow, limited thinking prevents them from ever succeeding.  This is the case with your granddaughter.”

Grams posture snapped up straight. “I beg your pardon?”

Stupefied, my jaw fell open.  I had been trying so hard, and enjoying the class!  My grades even reflected that.  What had I done to make him formulate this nasty, unfair opinion of me? Sure, our interpretations varied on a few pieces.  But wasn’t all art subjective and open to debate?

“It’s no one’s fault.”  Nose-hair said with a sympathetic shake of his head.
“But her artistic aptitude is severally lacking. I would suggest that instead of pursuing a path she has no talent for, she reassess her goals and aspirations for the future.  Maybe aim a little lower.  I see she’s now working at the coffee shop across the street.  Perhaps she could work her way up to a barista at a Starbuck’s.  I hear that company offers great benefits and advancement opportunities.” 

While I
stood their gaping, Grams stepped in and unleashed a verbal bashing, “Now look here, you nasty little man!  I want proof and documentation through her grades and class performance before you make claims like this.  And even if she isn’t top of class, that’s no reason to write her off completely.”  She clenched her purse in a white knuckle grip, like it was the only thing stopping her from throttling him.  “ Maybe you should take a look at your teaching methods and how they’re lacking before you assume your students only have a future in fast food.”

“Not all my students.”  H
e corrected and tipped his head in my direction.  “Just her.” 

I glared up at him with narrowed eyes.  With a snooty
raise of his brow he met my gaze.  And blinked.  For a split second his eyes turned black.  Another blink, and they were restored.

Grams
saw it, too, and sucked in a shocked breath.  With one arm I pushed her behind me.  My norm in moments like this was to make a pithy comment before things took a violent turn.  However his little game had me fresh out of pith.  Instead I punched him in the mouth. 

“Celeste!”  Grams gasped. 

The lower half of my professor’s face split down the middle.  With a sickening slurp teeth, bone, and flesh pulled away.  The insides of his mouth curled back by his ears to release a long, black snake-like tongue with its own set of jagged fangs.

“Holy crow!”  Grams yelped
.  I grabbed her and shoved her behind Nose-hair’s desk.  “What is that thing?”

“Ya know those demons I’m always running off to fight?  That’s one of them.  Think of this as Take Your Grandma to Work Day.”

As I spun around the demon’s tongue shot out like a frog trying to catch a fly.  I tucked my shoulder and rolled out the way.  His tongue hissed—
eeww
—and darted at me again.  I caught its slippery bulbous head millimeters in front of my face and struggled to keep the saliva coated leech from latching on.  Nose-hair, with his splayed face, crept forward to watch.  He leaned over me with glee in his solid black eyes.

“Celeste, here!”  Something gleamed in Grams’ hand as she rifled through her clutch.  She palmed whatever it was and slid it across the linoleum floor to me.  My hand curled around it
.  A metal nail file!  I plunged it through the tongue-snake with enough force to make the pointed end jut out the other side.  The squishy creature wriggled in my hand, then fell limp.

“Aaaggggggggghhhhh!”  Nose-hair screamed in pain
with my hands still wrapped around his tongue.  He lunged for my throat with a murderous snarl. 

Instinctively
, I scissor kicked his legs out from under him.  In a blur of superhuman speed I leapt to my feet.  With my bare hands I tore a particle board desk off the chair it was bolted to.  I brought it down on my demonic professor’s neck hard and fast.  His head severed from his body and rolled across the floor before both dissolved into black goo. 

“Wow.” Grams gaped in astonishment.  “Is it always like that?”

“Nah.”  I shrugged.  I wiped my hands on my jeans before I helped her off the floor.  “Sometimes they’re hard to kill.”