Death, Doom And Detention Part 16

With a startled gasp, I glanced up at her, unable to curb the guilt in my expression fast enough. I laughed breathily instead, trying to recover. "Oh, right. I was just kidding."

Her sparkling eyes crinkled with mischief before turning back to the cla.s.s. "Okay, we have ten minutes. I suggest you use that time wisely."

She brushed past me as I studiously opened my book, going for another save. Was it too much to hope for two in one day? But the contact as Ms. Mullins walked past shifted gravity. Like a wind that blew one direction one minute, then another the next, the world tilted to the side.

In the next instant, I heard a m.u.f.fled pop. I grasped for my desk, but my fingers slipped on something warm and sticky. My chair disappeared out from under me and I toppled back, arms searching blindly for something to grab on to. I landed hard. My spine and shoulder blades. .h.i.t the tile floor with a thud a millisecond before the back of my head cracked against the hard surface. I looked around, wide eyed. The desks vanished. Students ran for cover, screaming and crying, and I found myself lying next to the p.r.o.ne and lifeless form of Ms. Mullins.

THE AVALANCHE.

I realized instantly I was having a vision, but it hit like an avalanche, knocked the breath out of me, and stung my eyes like an arctic wind. I'd never had a vision so vivid, so uncontrollably real. I could feel the slickness of blood as I slid in it, struggling to get to Ms. Mullins. I could hear screams and cries of absolute terror as students rushed for cover. I could hear the splintering sound of gunshots, could smell the gunpowder and see the smoke.

Suddenly Mr. Davis came into view. He was trying to get to us, to Ms. Mullins. He glanced around, wild eyed, and came face-to-face with the shooter a split second before the gun went off again, hitting him in the chest. It didn't stop him. He barreled forward, determination locking his jaw. It took five bullets to bring him down. He spun toward me and sank to his knees, his tie, a brilliant red, matching the stains spreading across the front of his shirt, his face frozen in shock. My b.l.o.o.d.y hands shot to my mouth in horror.

In all the chaos, I never got a clear view of the shooter. I saw a wrist. A hand. A gun. My line of sight stopped there, because the barrel was turning toward me and I couldn't seem to look past it. A boy stepped into view, but he was simply the blurry backdrop for the gun, hazy and out of focus. When he pulled the trigger again, I could almost make out a sneer on his face before the bullet hit its mark right between my eyes. My head jerked back with the force as pain exploded inside me, splintering my skull and my thoughts; then everything went black.

"Lor?"

I heard Brooke's voice-so casual, so unfathomably calm amid such devastation-as I fell back in my chair. My arms reached blindly until my head bounced off the concrete floor.

"Lor! Are you okay?"

Brooke was beside me in an instant. I'd tipped my chair back, and a few kids were laughing as I looked around in shock. I lifted my hands-turned them over, searching for blood-then glanced up at my cla.s.smates' faces, suddenly untrusting of them all.

"Lor, what happened?"

Despite the pain in my head, sharp and hot, I scrambled to my feet and turned on the cla.s.s, searching for the culprit. But I hadn't seen him. Not clearly enough to pick him out.

"Lorelei," Ms. Mullins said. She was sitting behind her desk but rose slowly, watching me with a wary expression. Like she knew I hadn't just randomly fallen. She glanced at the other students as well, and their faces turned from entertained to confused.

Before I could gather myself, a wave of nausea washed over me, the smell of blood and gunpowder so vivid in my mind. I doubled over and emptied the contents of my stomach, the adrenaline rushing through my veins too much for my body to handle. I left my breakfast on Ms. Mullins's floor. It was very unappealing.

"Oh, man," I heard one kid say. Nathan Ritter. He jumped up and put as much distance between himself and the acrid pool as he could, as did everyone else close by. A few students gagged. A few others groaned in disgust.

Ms. Mullins, who wasn't much taller than Brooke and me, took one of my arms and helped me toward the door. "Nathan, go get Mr. Gonzales to watch the cla.s.s. This is his prep period. And get the custodian."

"Anything to get out of here," Nathan said, jumping to do her bidding.

After threatening the cla.s.s with dire warnings of quizzes and extra homework should they misbehave, she walked me to the nurse's office. Brooke gathered our stuff and followed. She didn't say anything, clearly understanding what had just happened, but Ms. Mullins kept asking me questions, wanting to know if I'd had a fever that morning or if I felt dizzy.

I stopped and looked at her. At the concern in her eyes. She'd been lying there beside me, her skin ghostly pale, her body drained of blood in seconds. A sob escaped my throat before I could stop it. She glanced around, patted my arm, and urged me forward.

"It doesn't matter, sweetheart."

But it did matter. How could something so heinous happen? Who would do such a thing to Ms. Mullins? To Mr. Davis?

Just before we went inside the nurse's office, she turned to me, her expression grave. "It doesn't matter," she repeated. Then she placed her hands on either side of my face and whispered, "It doesn't matter what you saw. Nothing is inevitable."

Surprise glued me to the spot. I gazed at her questioningly, my lips parting, then closing abruptly, afraid to say anything. But how did she know I'd had a vision? Ms. Mullins wasn't a member of the Order. She didn't even go to our church, not that every churchgoer was a member. Far from it. But how did she know about my visions?

With a smile both grim and knowing, she patted my shoulder again and ushered me inside the nurse's office.

Within seconds of my entering the nurse's office, Jared and Cameron were outside the door, Cameron keeping vigil in that weird, predator-like way of his, and Jared watching me through the doorway. He refused to leave when the nurse told him to get back to cla.s.s, taking in her every move as she took my vitals, scrutinizing her every decision, all the while keeping tabs on me from underneath his dark lashes. His gaze was so intense, it warmed me to the marrow. I'd been shaking uncontrollably, but with him near, my body seemed to calm. I hadn't realized I was on the verge of hyperventilating until I started breathing normally again, rhythmically.

Nurse Mackey checked me for a concussion. "I'm going to go call your grandparents. Get them over here."

Wonderful. I would be shipped off by nightfall.

She gave Jared and Cameron an admonishing frown. "You kids really need to get back to cla.s.s," she said before giving us the small room. It had a desk, one cot whose edge I was sitting on, and a couple of chairs.

After she left, Cameron asked, "What happened?"

"I had a vision."

"Did anyone hurt you?"

I blinked up at him in surprise. "In the vision?"

He shook his head. "No, just now."

Confused, I said, "No. I just had a vision. Why?"

Before he could answer, Glitch burst through the door. I jumped a solid foot. "I'm here," he said, panting as though he'd just run with the bulls. He put his hands on his knees and swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath. "I made it," he said between gasps for air. "I'm good. What's going on?"

"Lor had a vision," Brooke said, and every face turned toward him.

He paused. Straightened. Looked at us like we were all crazy. Then said, "A vision? That's it?"

"It was a bad one." Brooke took my hand into hers and squeezed.

"No, really. A vision? Doesn't she have those all the time?"

"Not like this," I said, the memory flooding back in another nauseating wave.

He finally started to get the picture.

Cameron turned to Jared, his expression wary.

Without even looking his way, Jared asked, "What?"

Cameron bounced back and refocused on me. Someday those two would be friends. Until then, we had to put up with their squabbles. They were like first-graders fighting over the only red crayon in the box.

"So, are you guys back to hating each other?" Glitch asked, still out of breath. How far had he run? "'Cause I'm good with that."

"Glitch," Brooklyn said. She pointed a warning finger at him.

"What?" he asked. "It's a legitimate question."

With a sigh of resignation, Cameron stepped back. "I don't know what's caused this imbalance, this turbulence in the air, but it's clearly affecting you, Lorelei."

"What happened in your vision?" Brooke asked.

After a hard swallow, I told them everything. About Ms. Mullins. About Mr. Davis. About the kid and the gun. The only things I left out were the little details like smells and the sounds. I had never had a vision quite that realistic before.

"And Mr. Davis had on his red tie." It was odd that I would remember that, but I did.

"Oh," Brooke said, surprised too. "Well, he always wears that tie on game days, so if this does happen, it won't happen at least until Friday, right? But it could be any Friday. What was Ms. Mullins wearing? We can keep an eye out."

"Blood," I said, sparing her an exasperated look.

She cringed. "Do you remember what color she was wearing? Her shoes?"

"Red and red. Honestly, all I remember seeing was blood. It was hard to get past."

"We have to find that new kid," Cameron said.

"Surely that doesn't have anything to do with him, potential descendant or not," I said. "I mean, this was a high school kid. An angry kid who wanted to take out his frustrations on the world."

"Not the world, Lorelei," Cameron said, stepping closer. "You."

I looked around in alarm. Glitch's head was bowed in thought. Jared's arms were crossed over his chest. Brooke's face was almost pale.

"No," I said, refusing to believe it. "He shot Ms. Mullins and Mr. Davis. He wasn't after me."

"And yet he aimed the gun point-blank at your head," Cameron said. "Shot you with a particular kind of purpose."

Jared fixed a hard gaze on me. "Most likely, he only shot the others because they were in the way."

Cameron took over again. "He was after you, Lor. The prophet. The only one, according to prophecy, who can stop the coming war before it starts." He kneeled before me. "I promise you he wanted you dead, and I can also promise he was sent by someone else."

"Is it the same guy causing this disturbance you're sensing?"

"Possibly. Or the man who opened the gates of h.e.l.l in the first place. We still believe he was the one who sent that reporter who tried to kidnap you. We have to figure out who he is."

"And you're the only one who's seen him," Brooke said.

"Right, when I was six." The only plausible solution to stop this war lay in the fact that I had seen the man who opened the gates of h.e.l.l ten years ago. Maybe it was that simple. Me remembering who he was or recognizing him at some opportune moment. How else would I stop a supernatural war?

Glitch brought me an orange soda, and it helped with the whole nerves and vomiting thing. I convinced them I felt well enough to stay at school.

"She can't be here," Cameron said to Jared. "At school. It's too dangerous."

"Cameron, Ms. Mullins's life is in danger. Mr. Davis's. I can't possibly leave now."

Nurse Mackey came back in just as Grandma and Granddad showed up. She frowned, perplexed, when Grandma called Jared "Your Grace." Grandma insisted on calling him by his celestial t.i.tle, though Jared swore the angels, arch or otherwise, never really went by such t.i.tles. Nurse Mackey shook it off, then explained what had happened, trying to calm my grandparents down before leaving us alone in the room again.

Brooke jumped up and offered her chair to Granddad, but he waved her back into it as Grandma sat beside me on the cot. Jared and Cameron joined us as well, closing the door behind them.

"What happened?" Granddad asked as he sat in the vacant chair before me, his face a picture of concern.

"Nothing. I just got dizzy." The vision flashed in my mind and made me start shaking again. Grandma sat on the bed beside me and wrapped me in her arms. I let her, but only for a minute. Her gaze darted occasionally to Jared, and it angered me, so I leaned out of her grasp. She was so worried about him. What was he going to do? Incinerate me right then and there because he was so dangerous?

Well, okay, he was dangerous, but clearly there was something else out there even more so.

She dropped her arms in disappointment, and guilt crashed into me. I decided to let them in on one secret. One that I was hoping wouldn't get me shipped off. I looked at them all sheepishly, and said, "Ms. Mullins knows what I am." When every set of eyes around me widened in surprise, I continued. "She told me that nothing is inevitable. No matter what I saw, nothing is inevitable. She knows."

"That's impossible," Grandma said, her face a picture of shock.

"No." An astonished smile slid across Granddad's face. "No, it's not. She's the one. Why didn't I see it?"

"See what?" Brooklyn asked.

When he grinned at Grandma, she sputtered in disbelief, thought a moment, then her mouth dropped open in realization. "You're right. Oh, my goodness."

"What?" I asked, fairly bursting to know.

Granddad looked at Jared, who stood with a knowing expression on his face. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Yes, but only recently. She slipped one day. I caught it."

"Granddad, really," I said, growing annoyed.

"She's the observer." He laughed softly. "She's always been the observer."

"I just can't believe it," Grandma said. She looked at me, a loving expression in her eyes. "Your father told us there was always an observer, a person on the outside looking in who makes sure the power of the Order of Sanct.i.ty is not being abused or misused. And nine times out of ten, n.o.body within the Order knows who it is. Once that person is brought to light, another one must be sent, else the position be compromised."

"It has to be her. She moved here right after your parents married. She'd just graduated from college with a teaching degree. But she became friends with your mom," Granddad said to me.

"No," Grandma corrected. "Carolyn became friends with her through that book club. Remember how many times she had to ask Ms. Mullins out for coffee before she accepted?"

Granddad's face brightened in remembrance. "That's right. And that explains why she wouldn't go to coffee with your mom for so long."

Grandma nodded and glanced at me. "She was trying to do her job, and your mother just wouldn't give up."

I couldn't help but let a smile dawn. "What happens now that we know?"

Granddad patted my hand. "She'll be disa.s.sociated. She can't be the observer if we know who it is."

"We got her fired?" I asked, suddenly concerned.