Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1) (24 page)

“The best,” I said absently, then
realized Devon had purposely slipped in the question when she knew
I was distracted. “You didn’t have to trick me,” I told her. “I
would have told you.”

“So, your non-date was actually a
date?” Devon pressed.

“Sort of,” I admitted.

Devon laughed. “It’s okay that you
went on a date. You deserve to have some fun. Life doesn’t have to
be all about school and sports.”

Maybe not. But life was much simpler
when it had been.

Mom was sitting at the kitchen table
when I opened the front door at five minutes past ten o’clock. She
called my name and beckoned for me to join her. I set my backpack
and gym bag by the door and reluctantly complied. To my surprise,
Mom wore a smile instead of the scowl I’d grown accustomed
to.

“How was dinner?” she asked, setting
her pen down and giving me her full attention.

“Good. Sorry I’m late. We were talking
and I lost track of time,” I replied.

“I’ll say. It must have been some
first date. It was a first date, right?” Mom watched me carefully,
studying my face for a tell.

“Yes, Mom. And if we go out again, you
can meet him,” I told her, surprised to realize I meant it this
time.

“I look forward to it.” And Mom looked
like she meant it.

“I have a lot of homework,” I said
awkwardly. I loved that Mom was asking about my night and not in
the interrogative way that she normally used, but discussing my
dating life with her made me uncomfortable. “I’m gonna head up to
my room.”

“Go ahead,” Mom said, still
smiling.

It occurred to me that maybe Devon and
Elizabeth weren’t the only ones who thought I needed to get some
real-life dating experience. If my mother only knew what had drawn
Kannon and me together…

Once in my pajamas, I settled onto the
bed, but didn’t start my homework. Instead, I opened the folder Mr.
Haverty had given me, again. My father’s research suddenly seemed
relevant. The myths and legends he’d been looking into may talk
about the Egrgoroi.

I couldn’t find any references to the
Egrgoroi specifically. But there were several highlighted passages
that interested me.

Only the Chosen shall know
the way, for with one’s life they must pay. The in-between is
neither here nor there, but to it one may voyage from everywhere.
Journey beyond the gate before it is thy turn, succumb to fortune’s
fate, no way back from this sojourn.

In a land where blood and
fire reign supreme, only the Chosen shall hope to escape the
inferno. A contract signed with pen mightier than any found on
mortal plane binds the Chosen to a Decree yet unbroken. The balance
of power is best left to the omnipresent.

Across the smoothest seas
they wait, poised to decide all mankind’s fate. One goes up and one
goes down, by the brothers’ whim they will be bound. Lesser will
fall and Blessed shall rise, only the Chosen shall know reprise.
Blindly, man enters and asks for reprieve; with knowledge the
Chosen are granted their leave. Only a fool aims to escape destiny,
all-knowing, all-seeing, these are the Three.

Besides the mention to the
“Three,” I had no idea what any of it meant. The repeated mention
of the Chosen seemed important, and I wondered if the Egrgoroi were
the Chosen. In Advanced Lit Mrs.
Macemore
had us interpret poems all
the time, in preparation for the AP exam. It was not an area in
which I excelled. Devon, however, would likely take one look at the
passages and instantly conjure a translation.

Between the physically grueling
lacrosse practice and the mentally taxing dinner with Kannon, I was
beat. Any additional research into my potential alter ego would
have to wait. Before closing my eyes, I checked my phone just in
case my father had called.

A smiled tugged at the corners of my
mouth when I saw Kannon’s name on the display screen.

Kannon: Wanted to make sure
you got home okay. Hope you aren’t in trouble with Mom. Dream
well
.

Me: In bed and out of
trouble. You too
.

****

I tried to call Devon’s
name again, but my voice was lost in a second explosion. This one
sent me flying through the air. I collided with the wall, spine
first. Pain shot out in every direction, but it was quickly
forgotten as the door at the end of the hallway burst open. Fire
swirled in a mesmerizing vortex of orange tinged with black. I
pressed my back against the wall, hoping that if I made myself as
small as possible the fireball would miss me. Only, even as more
smoke poured into the hallway, the flames stayed confined inside
the room as if there were an invisible barrier that they couldn’t
cross.

Paralyzed with fear and
fascination, I watched as a dark silhouette started to take shape
in the center of the fire. My first thought was relief; somehow
Devon was still alive. As the shape grew larger, more defined, my
stomach clenched. The silhouette was too big to be
Devon’s.

Twin green lasers came
into focus. Flames licked his chestnut waves, the arms and legs of
his tuxedo, yet he appeared unaffected by the fire. The smoke
parted for him, clearing a pathway that led directly from the
doorway to where I huddled on the ground.

“Kannon?” I
whispered.

He held out his hand and
beckoned me forward. Part of me wanted to go to him. The more
sensible part of me knew better. Run, run, run, a voice screamed
inside my head. Before I could act on the internal command, the
smoke lining the path between Kannon and me began to take shape.
The clouds of black and grey twisted and swirled into distinct
forms, distinctly humanoid forms. They were small, no more than
three feet tall, and hunched over. The fire creatures walked with a
limp, like they all had a lame left leg.

I glanced back at Kannon,
whose hand was still extended in my direction. His expression was
blank, except for the eyes. His eyes were sad and scared and full
of regret. A melodic voice that wasn’t his came from his lips,
“Welcome back, Endora Lee.”

I knew that voice. I’d
heard it before. In Caswell Lake.

The smoke creatures were
closing in, reaching their hot, waiflike fingers towards me. Even
as I scrambled to my feet, I knew it was too late. I’d waited too
long to act. A bloodcurdling scream tore from my chest as fingers
closed around my wrist, singeing the skin on contact.

Chapter Fifteen

“What do you think he’s going to give
you?” Devon asked between French fries.

The entire morning had passed in one
big blur. Integrals proved painfully boring. Even the life cycle of
the blow fly and its usefulness in determining time of death failed
to hold my attention. Volleyball, a sport at which I usually
excelled, was a disaster. All I thought about was my upcoming
dinner meeting with Mr. Wentworth and the previous night’s date
with Kannon.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Ohhh, maybe it’s a family heirloom!
Some priceless artifact passed down from generation to generation,
like a chalice from Camelot or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “My dad’s family is
from Poland.”

“Okay, so maybe not.” Devon shrugged.
“I bet it’s something cool, though. Why else would he have given it
to Mr. Wentworth to give to you? It has to be
important.”

“I guess,” I said.

The truth was, when it came
to my father and what he found important, the gift could be
anything. For my tenth birthday, he gave me a collection of chip
clips because I was always leaving half-eaten bags of potato chips
lying around the house and he thought it was wasteful. I received a
giant map of the world after I made the mistake of asking why we
hadn’t visited Greece when we were in Ireland, since they are both
in the European Union
.
That was when I learned that Greece is actually on the
opposite side of Europe and not off the coast of England. They are
both island nations; it was an honest mistake.

“Knowing Dad, it’s probably a guide to
colleges with the best History departments,” I said.

Devon laughed. “No way. He could have
just sent that in the mail.”

“What could who have just sent in the
mail?” Elizabeth asked, taking her seat across from us at the lunch
table.

We really needed to start having these
sorts of conversations in private. To Elizabeth, I said, “Dad. He
left a birthday gift for me with –” Then I paused, not sure whether
to tell her about Mr. Wentworth. Not that I was trying to keep it a
secret exactly. I just felt weird talking about it with someone
besides Devon. “With a friend,” I finished lamely.

Elizabeth’s expression softened. She
knew enough about the skeletons in my family’s closet to empathize.
Given her own parents’ messed-up marriage and bitter divorce, she
understood better than most.

“That’s really nice of him,” she told
me.

My afternoon classes went about as
well as the morning ones had. I paid little attention and prayed
that no teacher would call on me. Mrs. Randolf droned on and on
about the sons of Zeus. Instead of taking notes, I found myself
doodling lines from the poems I found in Dad’s folder. While the
lines didn’t mean anything to me, I couldn’t get them out of my
head.

“Some literature refers to them as the
Panel of Three,” Mrs. Randolf was saying.

My ears perked up. The Panel of Three?
I glanced between Mrs. Randolf and my scrawled notes.

“Rhadamanthus, Minos and Aeacus were
thought to have been the original Judges of the dead, and some even
believe they were also responsible for establishing law on earth,”
she continued. “Their judgment of your soul is what determines how
you spend your afterlife. If you were a good doobie in life, they
reward you with a one-way ticket to Elysian Fields. For those
particularly naughty mortals, the judges prescribe an eternity in
Tartarus.” Mrs. Randolf’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, like the
wisdom she was imparting upon our young impressionable minds was
the most fascinating subject matter of all time. Unfortunately for
her, I was the only one paying attention.

My hand shot up as if it had a mind of
its own. Mrs. Randolf looked taken aback at first. Voluntary
participation in her class was rare.

“Yes, Ms. Andrews?” She aimed her
laser pointer at my desk, causing a red dot to appear on my
notebook.

Every head in the room jerked in my
direction. Twenty-four wide-eyed faces assessed me, not one of them
bothering to mask their surprise. Not only was voluntary
participation low, mine in particular was nonexistent. Still, I was
the most shocked of us all.

“Um…um,” I stuttered unintelligibly.
Why had I raised my hand? A million questions burned in my mind,
but Mrs. Randolf’s class was not the correct platform for a
philosophical debate on free will.

“Ms. Andrews?” my teacher
prompted.

“Um, well, I was just
wondering whether the Judges ever send people back to earth? Give
them a second chance at life?” I regretted the question
immediately. Mrs. Randolf was a high school teacher, not
a
n expert in comparative mythology.
The
chance
that she would have any knowledge about the
Egrgoroi was slim.

The girl sitting behind me snickered,
and I attempted to blend in with my plastic chair. Normally I was
so good at holding my tongue; why had I felt the need to interrupt
today?

Mrs. Randolf cocked her head to one
side, a thoughtful expression settling over her features. She
scrunched her eyes and pursed her lips, like she was trying to put
her finger on something but couldn’t quite do it.

“I do believe some Greek scholars have
theorized that certain souls are sent back. They are given a second
chance to make a contribution to the world.”

“What type of
contribution?” I asked.
The kind where
they serve the gods?

“There isn’t much
written
on the idea of the
watchers
, Ms. Andrews–” Mrs. Randolf
began.

“You mean the Egrgoroi?” I
interjected.

Instead of getting upset
over my interruption, the way most teachers would have, Mrs.
Randolf beamed. “Someone has been doing her research,” she said,
almost giddy with delight. “Yes, the Egrgoroi, or watchers, are
seldom referenced in more mainstream Greek literature. What little
we know about them tells us they are souls sent back to watch over
us earthlings
and make sure we
behave
.”

This information didn’t surprise me.
It was in line with Kannon’s explanation the previous night. What
did surprise me, however, was the tremendous weight that lifted
from my shoulders. The knowledge that there were enough people in
the world who were like me and that we were a part of history books
was a relief. There was documentation that supported my continued
existence on earth. All my lingering doubt over whether the
Egrgoroi were real was gone.

When the final bell rang,
signaling the end of
classes
, I hurriedly packed my
notebook and prepared to head for the girls’ locker room. I didn’t
even make it to the door of the classroom when Mrs. Randolf called
my name.