Rachel Golden and the Retriever of Sin
Read Rachel Golden and the Retriever of Sin Online
Authors: Oliver Jackson
RACHEL GOLDEN AND THE RETRIEVER OF SIN. Copyright © 2014 by Oliver Jackson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
Cover design by Oliver Jackson.
Excerpt from ‘White Rabbit’ by Jefferson Airplane, lyrics © Copyright by Grace Slick.
http://www.facebook.com/oliver.jackson.58
thanks to and for
Jutta Beinker, Ella Buchert, Chris Jackson, Hanne Jackson, Tina Lyles, Hannah Scanlon, Angela Starr (for McKitten and Turtle), MH, and of course, the
real
Rachel Golden for allowing me to use her awesome name.
Contents
A working class Hero is something to be
Rachel screws up and gets kissed
The Honorable Mr. Justice Pepper Benjamin
RACHEL’S MOUTH WAS BLEEDING FREELY WHEN SHE WOKE. She lifted her head just slightly, and coughed and spat onto the straw-covered stone floor. Contrary to what some writers may have you believe, blood does not taste like copper. It tastes like blood. Her tongue flicked over her stained teeth and found the gap where an incisor used to be. ___king Dark Ones, she thought, and spat again.
It took her a while to sit up, dazed and in pain, and slid a hand up under her shirt. Her fingers probed gently at a rib she thought was cracked. The skin and muscle above it were hot and puffy and a little torn. Getting hoofed in the chest by a unicorn will do that.
Standing up was hard, and when she’d managed it she swayed on her feet, feeling like she was drunk or drugged. Probably just concussed. There was an egg-sized lump on the back of her head, and the hair covering it was sticky with congealed blood.
The door to the cell was thick wood, and a small barred hole in it let in occasional flashes of orange light. She crossed the floor on unsteady feet and rested her forehead against the metal bars. She felt an urge to throw up, but fought it down, the coolness of the metal settling her and making her sleepy. No. No sleep.
‘Kel?’ she called through the bars, her voice no more than a ragged whisper. She could kill for some water. She breathed in deep through her nostrils, swallowed and tried again. This time her voice echoed down the long dark corridor. ‘Kel…? Are you there?’
Nothing. No response from her Safeguarder. She turned her back to the door and slid down onto her haunches. What had happened before the kick? She rubbed at the knuckles of her right hand. They were cut and bruised. She remembered… What?
The kick. A Dark One had turned and let her have it with both back hooves. It was like being hit by a truck. She was lifted off her feet and thrown backward
through the air. That’s all she remembered.
She let her head sag against her chest and felt hot silent tears spilling down her cheeks. By touch her fingertips found the plastic nametag pinned to her chest and closed around it. She pulled, and this time the badge came free, ripping the fabric of her shirt. She turned it in her hand and read the word ‘trainee’ where her name should have been. Of course it had come off. She had failed.
Five days earlier
‘ARE YOU BEING SMART WITH ME, GOLDEN?’ THE TEACHER SNAPPED. Rachel hated when he called her by her last name.
‘
With
you sir?’ she asked, innocently, ‘No. As far as I know I was the only one being smart.’
‘Mmm. Good,’ he grumbled, apparently not having listened to her reply, and turned back to the board. Her best friend Kel snickered and she kicked him under the table.
Rachel sighed and leaned back in her chair, willing the hands of the clock to move faster (though this seldom worked). It was just so
unfair
. There they were, mere hours from the end of term, and she had to sit here listening to this dusty old goat of a man bleat on about math. She turned to the window and looked longingly at the gorgeous late spring afternoon outside. The sky was a picture-perfect blue with just a few dabs of white cloud.
She picked up her pencil and quietly sent a message to Kel in tap code: Fire alarm?
He turned to her, eyes wide with fear, and shook his head vigorously. Baby. Though they had pulled that one already this year…
The teacher cleared his throat and turned to face the room.
‘Alright class,’ he growled, ‘I realize that the school year is
almost
over, but if I could beg your indulgence for just a few more minutes, I want you to copy down and solve the equation on the board. That should take most of you until the end of the day.’
Rachel scanned the board for a few seconds, then said ‘
x
equals
b
2
,’ almost to herself. This time Kel kicked
her
, and she let out a yelp. But he had a point. It wouldn’t be cool if people found out how smart she was.
‘What was that?’ the teacher snapped, as Rachel rubbed at her ankle. She desperately tried to think of something that sounded like
x
equals
b
2
.
‘Uh, I said “next week we’ll
be
scared”. Sir.’
‘What?’ he growled. ‘What in blazes are you babbling about, Golden?’ His brow made a deep furrow as he settled himself down into his chair, his moustache bristling indignantly. The ancient wood creaked in pain and the entire class held its breath. One of these days it was going to just give up the good fight and collapse under Mr. Lemming’s fat, chalk-dusted ass. But not today. The class went back to its work, disappointed.
Nope. It was just no good. She couldn’t sit there for a minute longer. ‘Bring my stuff when you leave,’ she whispered to Kel, who looked question marks at her. She pushed her chair back from the desk and bent over, clutching at her stomach as if in pain. She let out a loud ‘oooooh’ noise.
Lemming looked up from his book and glared at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. Before he could say anything Rachel was on her feet and weaving toward his desk, groaning like a champ. Kel rolled his eyes. ‘What’s the matter with you girl?’ the teacher snapped. ‘Speak up.’
‘I… I think I’m gonna be sick, sir,’ she said, and took a couple wobbling steps in his direction. Lemming bleated in terror at the thought of kid puke, and scrabbled the papers on his desk out of any possible blast-zone.
‘Well then go to the bathroom, you stupid girl!’ he cried. ‘Samantha,’ he snapped his fingers at a girl on the front row, ‘go with Golden and make sure she’s alright.’
Uh-oh. ‘No!’ she protested, trying to think of a reason why, ‘I… I think I’m going to do some diarrhea too.’ The whole class burst out laughing and Lemming’s mouth fell open in shock. She used the distraction to bolt for the door, then ran up the hall in the direction of the bathroom.
Once she was safely around the corner she stopped and leaned against the wall, hand clamped over her mouth to stifle the laughter coming out of it. Diarrhea! She’d have to remember that one. Sure, it was embarrassing, but who cared? She was out of there. No one would remember by next year, and even if they did they already thought she was weird. When she had composed herself she straightened up and made for the exit.
Now what to do? she thought as she walked calmly out of the front doors of the school. She’d learned long ago that the easiest way to break out of there was to just brazenly do it. Smile sweetly at any teachers, and if any hall monitor challenged her she’d just be brusque and cryptic: ‘Getting new bracket cases. For the pinking slots. Check with Lemming,’ she’d thumb back over her shoulder and keep walking. Usually the hall monitor would just stand there scratching his head.
Outside she took a deep lungful of fresh, almost-summer air. Grass was being cut somewhere; she could smell it and hear the drone of a mower in the distance. The sun beat down warm on the top of her head. Awww yeah! Freedom baby! She checked her watch and saw that Kel would be getting out in about 90 minutes. She felt a little bad for leaving him, but he was the one that had nixed the fire alarm idea. They could both have been on their way to the park by now.
She decided she’d head down there by herself, and read in the shade of a big ole tree ’til he got out. He always knew how to find her somehow… But first she’d need a 64oz Slurpee from the 7-Eleven. Blue flavored, please :)
Sucking happily at her prize she made her way through the Peace Gardens, past runners and dogs and moms with their toddlers. There was a fairly disused section, a little ways away from the asphalt paths, that you had to push through some bushes to get to. It was quiet with good sitting trees, and no one else ever seemed to go there. Some ancient and unsafe playground rides creaked gently in the breeze on their rusted axels, shedding paint flakes under the sun.
She pulled a tattered copy of
Cosmic Banditos
out of her back pocket and sat down to read, blue Slurpee dripping sweat onto the grass. As she flipped through the pages to find her place, she was mildly annoyed to hear voices approaching. Ugh.
Keepwalkingkeepwalkingkeepwalking
she willed, but it was no good. They got louder until the bushes to her right began to rustle with the impending intrusion on her space. And worse, she thought she recognized one of the voices…
‘Hey! It’s Rachel Golden the wonder-nerd!’ said the first voice. Rachel groaned inwardly and closed her eyes. Why did it have to be Toby, the world’s biggest jackass? She would have bet money that his two cronies would be in tow. Snickers at his
hilarious
joke about her being a wonder-nerd told her she was right. Just keep your eyes closed, she told herself, and they’ll leave you alone (she doubted this, but it was worth a shot).
The old playground equipment clanged and creaked as the three delinquent fourteen year olds climbed onto various rides. ‘So how’s your diarrhea, Golden?’ Toby asked her with an amused sneer. WHAT?? How could he possibly have heard about that? It had happened less than twenty minutes ago! She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, feeling her cheeks get hot.
‘Excuse me?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level.