Supernatural School Chapter Five

Hey! So this is the second to final version of this chapter (the fully edited version being in the book already!). It's kind of become the monster chapter to me--trying to pin down a lot of action without losing the reader's intimacy with Gauge as a character!

-----------------------------

Dong.

The conversation cuts shorts, food halfway to lips, hands poised in the air mid story. You’re distantly aware of your family mirroring your actions as your head swings away from the buffet table and towards the heart of the festival.

The bell is a ghost in your ear, echoing.

Cold wraps around your bones and your heartbeat is too loud in your soulless chest. No. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not with the eyes of your family ticking over to your impassive face. Not now.

Dong.

“Well,” your father says, setting his plate on the edge of the table. There’s satisfaction in the corners of his mouth. “Let’s see you work, daughter.”

Your mouth is dry. There’s no point hoping that no one will see. The bell is close, already inside of your chest, and there are six of you here. The tug is already in your spine, drawing you forward.

You take the slowest step you can.

Dong.

“It could be human,” Chris says. He’s still, like a predator, as he scans the crowd.

“Doesn’t feel human,” your grandmother says. 

“It’s so rare to see a supernatural in our path,” Alexis says, rubbing her hands together.  She falls into step next to you, tense like a bow. “Death tends to come for them personally.”

Your mother slides in front of her, one eyebrow raised. “Either way, it’s Tana’s territory.” She nods you forward, sliding into Alexis’ space until the younger Reaper hisses and moves back. “Go on.”

Dong.

You’re very aware of how many people there are. How many witnesses, how many bystanders, and how many of them are your classmates. Your teachers. Your friends. You’ve been so, so lucky these past few months, drawn to isolated buildings, past the wards, out of lines of sight, but that’s in the past.

You are not lucky now.

You walk forward like a dead man, each step coming from some superhuman will that’s not your own. Death draws you forward, your family scraping at your back as the cold rises around all of you.

Dong.

The heart of the festival is still drawn in reds and yellows, the glitter of magic heavy in the air, but there’s fear too. The parents and students have their backs to you, all in a circle, panic rising from them like a thick cloud.

Lexi and her coven are at the edge of this ring, their dark and starry souls easy to pick out from the sea of color.  The adults are forming a solid wall in front of their youngest, keeping her pressed back from the action.

“Gauge!” Lexi says when you approach. Her hair is a frizzy, skin paler than normal, and her pupils are wide and black as she tries to keep an eye in front of her and on you at the same time. “There’s something wrong with Sam’s mom, his dad is freaking out, we shouldn’t go over--”

She’s yanked back by her coven and her place is taken over by a hissing woman with Lexi’s eyes. You’d gotten close enough that your aura--growing outward as the call grows stronger--touched hers..

She knows what you are.

“Stay away from us, Reapers,” she snarls. Her eyes flash red, blood red. “We are not your prey here.”

“You’re all prey here,” Aunt Alexis says to the vampire. She bares her teeth. “Just not yet.”

“Reapers?” Lexi asks, ducking to see under the older vampire’s arm. “Mom, that’s Gauge--”

You’re not Gauge right now. Not with the bell ringing in your bones.

Dong.

You walk by Lexi like you’re in a trance, eyes sliding from her frightened face to the crowd ahead.  What you need to get to is beyond them, in the middle where you can see the top of Alpha Burns’ scaled head. There’s a roar, something deep and feral that nearly succeeds in shaking the bell out of your bones, and the people surge back and away, voices rising with the scent of their fear.

You don’t bother to dodge the writhing bodies. As soon as they feel the cold, cold touch of your aura, they part instinctively. Those trapped between you and Alpha Burns lunge to the side, hind brains telling them that the Were or Fae or Demon at their side is less of a threat than the two predators slowly closing distance.

Beyond them, you can see Alpha Burns standing in front of two people on the ground. His eyes are bright orange, dark pupils thin slits. Green and orange scales, bigger and more prominent than you remember, march up his arms, over his neck, up onto his face. His fingers are dark talons and he’s snarling at Principal Finn, Mr. Tee and Ms. Jan.

“Please, Alpha Burns!” Principal Finn shouts over the chattering of the crowd. He’s being careful not to meet Alpha Burns’ eyes and even more careful to keep his arms lax on his chair. “We can help her. We have the best medical staff on this continent--”

Alpha Burns isn’t having it. He roars again, spittle flying from his lips as he swells up, bones shifting under his skin as the Change rises. His teeth bulge and drop to the ground as fangs burst from his gums, covering his chin with blood.

“Mom? Mom!”

You track the noise to the people behind Alpha Burns. You can barely see them through the frenetic energy of their souls, sick with pain and terror. Still, you make out Sam, face pale and lips bloodless, as he holds his mom on the ground. Mrs. Burns pants, tears streaking down her face. She holds her stomach with both hands, eyes wild with terror.

Dong. 

You don’t realize that you’ve stopped until your mother’s breath ghosts across your cheek and her presence grates at your spine.

“Go on,” she whispers in your ear. “It’s yours.”

It’s the first time in years that your mother has sounded so compassionate. She must think you’re stalling out of anxiety, out of fear of failure, but you’re not. You smell iron in the air and you know these people. You never knew them before.

Dong.

My territory, you think. You take a step forward and a weight falls over your head, ghostly fog rolling ahead of you, a black cloak settling around your shoulders. The last of the crowd parts and your power begins to pull the color from the world.

Alpha Burns senses you and turns, eyes wild with fear as he realizes Death has come for what’s his. He roars, gnashing his sharp teeth at you. He looks like the predator he is in this moment, big with anger and aggression and strength. 

Dong.

You see his soul, dark with grief and glaring with fear, pushing the taste of sick love onto your tongue. Your heart aches as the tug pulls you directly to him. Through him. Past him. The scythe forms in your hand, taller than you and viciously sharp.

“No,” he snarls. He shakes his head, fighting down fear of his own mortality as he stands his ground in the face of Death. “NO!”

Dong. Dong. Dong.

Your family flows around you, each wrapped in Death’s tools but no weapon in hand. They pull Alpha Burns and Sam away from Mrs. Burns, the movement looking easy despite how hard they fight. You try not to look at Sam, try not to see his tears or the way his scales have ripped through his glamour. Your cloaks make you impervious to harm and you can hear their claws slipping uselessly against the material.

You imagine you can hear their screams joining the bell in your head, in your bones, a cacophony of sound as you approach the woman on the ground.

There’s blood between her thighs, too red and too black all at once, staining the loose dress she’s wearing. Her eyes are bloodshot, lips cracking and thin from the pain. You remember how she smiled when you were introduced, how she whispered acceptance into your ear, how you felt warm for the first time after someone knew you for what you are.

Your family is a circle of black around you, tall pillars and immovable as you come to a stop by her side. Alpha Burns and Sam push at the barrier they’ve created, streaks of purple crackling to the sky at their efforts, rage and pain on their faces. You hardly notice them.

Not when you can see Mrs. Burns’ soul.

You’ve never seen a mortal’s soul so bright. The shine and glitter and glow is reserved for the supernatural, or so you’d thought. She’s the color of the sun as it rises shining through leaves, the color of rainbows just touching the water, the color of the sky so far north that even your kind feel the chill. She loves and loves and loves, loves every moment of her life around the scars of her past, loves every tear and smile that she has in her.

It’s not her soul you’re here for today.

Dong, dong, dong.

“Take me,” she begs you, eyes filled with tears that she, for once, does not love. “Take me.”

The soul in her belly is hot, so hot that you nearly recoil as you splay your hand in the air above it, crouching down until you’re where Sam had been shielding her. It feels like the softest sand under your hand, so close to feeling the sun for the first time. But it’s in pain, so much pain as it screams in its cradle, that you know this is the soul you’re here for.

“Take me,” she begs you and reaches out to wrap a hand in your cloak. She shakes and cries out as it burns her, as the cold stains her hand a grey-blue, as the color creeps up her forearm. She doesn’t let go. “Please.”

Dong, dong, dong--

You can barely think around the ringing in your bones. You can barely think past the scrape of your family against your skin. You can barely think but there’s something telling you that this isn’t right. You feel trapped and you never feel trapped. Your family is at your back, Mrs. Burns’ kindness is a sick memory on your tongue, and the bell is ringing. 

So you can barely think but you already know what you’re going to do. You’re not sure if it’s possible, not sure what will happen, but it’s the only action that feels right.

Dong, dong---

There’s something in you telling you that the bell is wrong.

--dong, dong--

You bring you scythe high above your head--

--dong--

--and bring it down across the veil of death that hangs thick around her stomach. The child’s soul doesn’t flinch as the numbing metal of your blade swipes so very, very close to it. The grey tinting the world flees, the fog blasting in a ring away from the hot soul. Wind pushes at the onlookers and you can actually hear gasps and screams as death rushes past them.

The bell does not ring again.

You are frozen over Mrs. Burns, her hand at your feet, still tangled in your robe, your hand on her stomach. You don’t remember consciously deciding to touch her.  You’re breathing hard, almost as hard as she is, as you turn to look into her eyes. She can’t see your face, not clearly, but there’s a moment of complete and silent understanding anyway. An understanding that she has been spared, that her child has been spared, that you, a Reaper, have chosen life over Death.

That it is by no means over.

You rise, turning in the same motion to face the cloaked and looming figures that have gone eerily silent. Darkness swells around you, rising from the ground, a bubble of sightlessness that you can hardly see through. All around you, however, your family is lit with black light.

Daughter, your mother says through the veil. She seems to grow taller as she comes closer, looming above you. Daughter you must.

The bell tolled, your grandmother says. There’s weight to her voice, the weight of experience. Lightning arcs above her, a flash of skeleton under her shadows, then an abyss where her face should be as the light flees again. You must.

Your father makes the first aggressive move, materializing his scythe, a matte black blade that he swings high above his head. He slams it into the ground, gouging the earth as he pulls it back towards him. Both will die if you don’t.

You want to tell them that this is wrong. You want to explain. You don’t know if you even can.

Your aunt winds her way forward. The fog at her feet is black, so much blacker than yours. There’s a hint of bared teeth under her hood. Do it or I will.

You can’t allow that.

No, you tell them in that between space. You raise your chin, slam the butt of your scythe into the ground so that it rings through your territory. The blue-grey light of your power flashes in the crevasse your father’s blade made.  Not today.

Then we will take it, your uncle says, swaying behind your aunt. He reminds you of a serpent-- ready to strike. So rare.

So rare, your aunt agrees. Her scythe is silver, like yours, but rusted along the edge. You think it looks a lot like old blood. Special. She lunges.

Your scythe meets hers in a clash of lightning, the bolt burning the ground right next to Mrs. Burns. She screams as blue splashes across her face, turning away from the vicious chill. Where it hits, her skin is changed, frozen with endless time.  It makes you furious, angrier than you’ve ever been in your life.

This is MY territory, you howl into your aunt’s face. You dig into the ground, pull and tear at the power underneath until you’re the immovable one, until you are as much a part of the land as it is a part of you. MINE.

She shrieks as she’s thrown back into your uncle, scythe sparking with blue lightning.  They hiss as they touch each other, auras lashing out in spikes. You can’t hear the crowd or see much more than their silhouettes through the barrier, but you don’t think you’re imagining the way they jerk away.

Your mother steps forward next. You almost miss her scythe, a curved blade with a handle rather than the long staff the rest of you have.  Daughter, you can’t stop nature.

I’m not, you say. Your bones hum with agreement. Leave.

Death can not be compromised with, your grandmother tries. She looks as if she’s carved from stone, immovable and unemotive. All you can see are the white teeth of her skull as she speaks.  Worse will come for the child than us.

Then it will come to me, you say, the words swelling from some deep and immeasurable part of you. It will go through me.

Oh, daughter, your father says. He’s no longer posturing, no longer tearing at your territory. You’d made your point and now there is something like fear in his voice, maybe something like pride. It will.

Chris and Alexis are swaying again. You can’t see their eyes, not through the darkness, but you know where they’re looking. Mrs. Burns pants behind you and it sounds like she’s underwater. It occurs to you that this miasma can’t be good for a mortal.

LEAVE, you say and bang your scythe against your territory again until the ground ripples with your claim. I command you to LEAVE. They stumble back as your power rips past them, permeating the air and clearing it of theirs.

You watch with fury in your veins as the darkness begins to fade. Your family’s cloaks melt back into nothing, their fog sinking into the ground and their scythes evaporating from their hands. The sound of the the crowd comes back, whispers and gasps and growls.

You don’t dare release your grip on your power. They’re old, much older than you, and you know they’ve taken territory before. You keep your hands on your scythe, holding it between you and them, ready to strike.

“Worse will come,” your mother says. Her eyes are still black and the warmth you saw earlier is nowhere to be found. “You little fool.”

“I’d use worse words,” your aunt spits. Her eyes are hungry as she looks at Mrs. Burns. “Much worse.”

You snarl at her, the sound discordant and grating through the veil covering your face. She jerks back, losing ground against you. Then she scowls as she realizes what she’s done. Recognized your claim. She bares her teeth and spins, stalking through the crowd with your uncle in tow.

Without another word, your father and mother follow, your father sending you an inscrutable look over his shoulder before he does. You remain rooted to the spot, lips pressed into a thin line.

The biggest threat is still here.

“There will be lessons learned,” your grandmother says. Her flesh looks wrong on her form now that you’ve seen what lies underneath. Her eyes are filled with sorrow as she adds, “Though for who those lessons are meant, I can’t say.”

Then she too is gone, leaving you in a circle of your classmates and their parents, a life you spared from death weighing heavily behind you.

You’re shaking. You didn’t know you could shake while you have Death’s Tools in your hands, but you are. You feel sick and hollowed out, the anger seeping out with the fog as you sense your family practically fly to the border of the school. You feel the wards part for them and you concentrate until you’re sure you feel all five of them leave.

Alpha Burns bellows, no longer restrained by your family and rushes you. Sam, ridges pushing out along his hairline, like horns, is hot on his heels.

“Hold them!” Principal Finn shouts. He’s not talking to the half-dozen Weres still loitering too close or even to the Fae Queen who’s somehow gained three times the height you last saw her at. He’s talking to you.

You drop your scythe, spreading your arms instinctively. Alpha Burns isn’t going to let the medical staff get to Mrs. Burns. Neither is Sam for all they’d have an easier time sedating him than an Alpha. 

“Stop,” you tell their souls. Your voice is echo-y and monotone, hands flashing with blue-grey. They do, seizing up like their spines have been welded together and it hurts to see their helpless panic. You turn your head just enough so you can see Principal Finn wheeling up behind you. “I can’t hold them for long.” Alpha Burns is quickly fighting through your command, tearing at his own soul to take just one step forward.

Principal Finn rolls up right next to you. “You don’t need to.”

The medical staff are already rushing forward, towards Mrs. Burns. They whisper healing spells, pain spells, and roll her onto a stretcher. You can feel the soft, pacifying magic against your senses, like soft cotton. It makes you want to cry.

Alpha Burns takes his step, veins popping in his neck as he works on the next. The sour desperation in his aura wavers and shreds under your restraints and you lose ground, the force of his determination like a sledgehammer against your head.

“Alpha Burns,” Principal Finn says as your arms shake. “Our healers will not allow you into her room if you’re Changed. Do you understand? The only way to be with your wife is to calm down.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam snarls. He’s sweating, steps behind his dad, and he’s bitten through his lip with his own sharp teeth. “He’s lying.”

“I am not lying,” Principal Finn says firmly. “You know that.” Most Weres could smell lies.

“Then let us go,” Alpha Burns says. His s hisses through his teeth. “Show us.”

“No harm to anyone here,” Principal Finn says. His eyes flash. “Do you swear?”

“No harm to those who stay out of our way,” Alpha Burns counters.

“To anyone.” Principal Finn rolls a touch in front of you, voice hard. “You are not in a position to bargain.”

You want to tell him that neither is he. You’re young, very young, and it’s a miracle that you’ve managed to hold an Alpha Were this long. The land underneath you is giving you temporary strength at the sealing of your claim, but that’s fast wearing off.

Alpha Burns, however, doesn’t know that. “No harm,” he says, shoulder sloping. His eyes track Mrs. Burns’ route to the school’s infirmary. He knows that she’ll be out of his sight soon. “I swear.”

Principal Finn nods, adjusting the sleeves of his coat like he’d always expected this answer. “Release them.”

You gasp as your power snaps back into you, arms falling to hold your stomach. It’s not the slow fade that you’re used to, you’ve overextended yourself too much for that. Your cloak bursts from your skin like smoke, curling into the air with flakes of your scythe. Your chill wisps away and suddenly you’re just you. You’re just--

“Gauge?” 

You look up, breath catching in your lungs as you realize what you’ve just done. No one had actually seen you take on your Reaper form, no one had seen really seen you with your family. Sam sees you now.

“Sam,” you say, straightening up. Alpha Burns charges past you, but Sam isn’t moving. Your eyes flick across the crowd and back. “I--”

“You did this?” Sam asks. His face twists. “You hurt my mom?” He jerks forward.

You take a step back. “No, I--” you’d heard the bell toll “--not your mom, it was the baby.” Your tongue trips over your words. “But I didn’t--”

Sam roars and it’s eerie how close it is to his father’s. He’s going to be an Alpha one day and it seems like that’ll be sooner rather than later. His bones shift under his skin, pulling his face into ridges and sharp edges. He lunges and you’re not fast enough to dodge when he lashes out.

His claws catch you across the face, splitting your skin like butter. Your blood is hot against your cheek, hot even through the numb shock that keeps you from struggling when he throws you to the ground.

“I said no harm!” Principal Finn shouts. Neither of you are paying any attention to him.

Your hands fly to his wrist as your friend chokes you with one hand. His other hand is tensed above him, ready to strike. You gasp for breath and dig your nails into his wrist. “I didn’t--!”

Sam hisses, snaking down until your noses are just inches apart. His eyes are burning. “Stay away from us, monster.”

You cry out as he shakes you, slamming your head into the ground. Monster. The word rings in your ears. 

Then he’s gone and you cough as you breathe too eagerly. You twist onto your side, trying to get around the pain in your throat, your face, your heart. You see Sam blowing through the crowd, sprinting after his parents.