Revelations: Fire & Brimstone Scroll 1 Read online

  For some reason, the alarm in his expression constricted my chest, and my lips parted to ask what was wrong. No sound escaped. What would I say? He was a stranger, after all.

  “Riley!” Bethany shook my shoulder, and I tore my eyes from the ghostly model with an audible gasp.

  My lungs cheered in relief as oxygen flooded my system, and my free hand rubbed circles over my erratically beating heart. “What?”

  Eyes brimming with questions, Bethany studied my face in concern, but I dismissed her anxiety easily as I turned back to the fair male by the tree. Except, he wasn’t there. The grassy courtyard was entirely empty. I craned my neck every which way in hopes of finding him again. It was no use; he was gone, like he had never existed in the first place.

  Uh-oh.

  “Riley, are you okay?” A cool hand landed on the back of my neck, and I jumped at the unexpected touch.

  “Did you see him?” I blurted before I thought better of it.

  Her brow furrowed. “See who?” Her eyes scanned our surroundings. “See who, Riley?”

  My jaw snapped shut as terror coursed through my veins. “Nobody,” I whispered, tightening our linked arms. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  Afraid of what I might see next, I trained my eyes on the sidewalk and practically dragged Bethany the rest of the way to the student center. She asked me if I was all right, and I nodded, even though it was a lie. No, I wasn’t okay.

  I didn’t understand why my brain had conjured the male, but the last thing I wanted was for it to happen again. So, I locked away the thought and threw out the key. Things were going well here, all things considered, and I didn’t want to jeopardize my education, or my freedom, by dredging up old baggage.

  Bethany didn’t see him, which meant he wasn’t real, which meant I hadn’t seen him either. End of story!

  Scrambling up the stone steps, I hauled Bethany into the student center and made a beeline for the mess hall. I swiped my student I.D. and grabbed a tray, chancing a peek over my shoulder to make sure the albino apparition hadn’t followed us inside. Thankfully, the room was free of pretty, pale men, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Ladies first,” I croaked, gesturing Bethany ahead of me.

  “Such a gentleman.” She winked as heat swelled in my cheeks.

  I trailed behind her, filling my tray with vegetarian lasagna, garlic bread, and mint tea—the same as Bethany. I wasn’t actually a vegetarian, but she and her roommate were. I felt guilty anytime I ate meat in their presence, so I had become a part-time carnivore. They had reassured me numerous times that it didn’t bother them if I ate meat. Regardless, I tended to copy whatever Bethany ate to ease my own irrational discomfort.

  Luckily, I had grown to love fresh mint tea. I was usually cold, and the tea warmed me up without fail. Plus, I loved the scent of mint. It calmed me, always had since I was a child. Brian thought it was gay, but it was the one thing I clung to, despite his opposition.

  Numerous greetings met us as I settled into my seat beside Bethany. I focused on my plate as she leaned to the opposite side and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s mouth. Their typical greeting was sweet, but the display of affection caused my leg to bounce.

  I was under no delusion that my conservative nature was silly. Most college students were flamboyant and free with their physical affection. Since I had never experienced it myself, it stressed me out. Not to mention, Ms. Janet had been very strict in my upbringing when it came to things of a sexual nature. I was wary in general about such matters.

  “Hi, Riley.” Derek nodded in my direction as he and Bethany disconnected.

  I sent him a small smile and wave, pretending their gooey kissing didn’t embarrass me. He grinned back, his teeth startling white against his russet skin, and his dark eyes crinkled kindly at the edges.

  The chair to my left scraped against the floor, and I subconsciously scooted to the opposite edge of my seat as a warm body took up the previously empty space. Based on the overwhelming cloud of perfume, Bethany’s friend Kayla had joined the table. It was Thursday, after all… I really disliked Thursdays.

  As a small hand smoothed over my shoulder, I flinched and my fork clattered against my plate. My face flushed as everyone at the table focused on me and I mumbled an apology.

  “Hi, Riley.” Kayla’s high, pixie-like voice pinged in my ear, and I sent her the same small smile I gave Derek, though it wasn’t as sincere.

  Her hand rubbed down my arm, and I tightened my fists in my lap as I fought the urge to jerk away. She was always touching me, but it wasn’t the same way Bethany did. Of course, my rationale made no sense. She treated me nicely, yet every touch of her perfectly manicured fingers twisted my stomach into knots. I wished she wouldn’t touch me, but it seemed like a rude request to make.

  “Hello, Kayla,” I greeted her as manners dictated, before staring awkwardly at my plate.

  Ms. Janet always said being polite should be my highest priority—that and being clean. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness, Riley. You remember that,” she would say with a stern tilt to her head, and I’d nod in obedience.

  Cleanliness. Courtesy. Chastity. They were the three most important rules in her home, and I had learned to excel at all three.

  “How was your day?” Kayla pulled me from my thoughts, and I wiped my mouth with my napkin and swallowed my bite of garlic bread before responding.

  “It was… okay.” I didn’t want to lie, but if I said my day had been horrible, it would lead to questions I didn’t want to answer. “And h-how was yours?”

  Immediately, she launched into a detailed account like I knew she would, and I did my best to pay attention. She leaned into me as she spoke, twisting a strand of auburn hair around her finger, but my focus wandered from her words to the green particle stuck between her teeth. It was probably parsley or basil from the lasagna she ate. It was incredibly rude of me to stare, especially when she was entirely unaware of it, but I couldn’t help it.

  Should I inform her? Should I offer her a napkin or a toothpick? Unsure of the best course of action, I chose for the path of least resistance and remained quiet, doing my best to keep my eyes on her hazel ones and failing miserably.

  She giggled, her garlic-laded breath fanning over my face, but I’d apparently missed the joke. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I smiled and gave a dry chuckle.

  This was my Thursday evening routine. Kayla would sit next to me. In the rare instances the seat beside me was taken, she would ask the person to move, as if she had the sole right to the chair at my side. For some reason, she liked talking to me, and my conscience reminded me on a weekly basis that it was a kindness, not a burden. But her overbearing presence and undivided attention made me squirm.

  This was, of course, based on my social ineptitude and didn’t reflect on her personally. But much to my shame, I was selfish and wished she would ignore me like everyone else usually did. It made me a horrible person, but she annoyed me—though I would only admit it in the darkest recesses of my soul.

  Kayla prattled on, inching more into my personal space as she bit into an apple. Immediately, the apple reminded me of the boy I had seen outside. An odd sense of déjà vu accompanied the male’s presence in my mind’s eye, and my blood buzzed restlessly with the desire to run outside and search him out. I prayed he was real and not a figment of my imagination. Because the alternative was too terrifying to consider.

  My mind was untrustworthy, even at the best of times, but it had been several months since my last episode. Dwelling on the times my mind failed me only made it worse, but it was impossible to erase the possibility that the boy didn’t even exist. As far as I knew, he had been nothing but a ghost my brain told me was real but wasn’t, even if his presence felt real.

  This was the reason I knew the doctors were right about me being crazy. Normal people didn’t see or feel things that didn’t exist. Ergo, I wasn’t normal.

  My memories were patchy, but I couldn’t forge
t the starchy sheets of the hospital bed or the cold leather they used to strap me to the mattress. They administered medicine, pills, and injections which should have fixed me but only made me nauseous. They ran their tests and asked me weird questions until I eventually learned the answers they wanted to hear.

  I told them I was better, that I didn’t see things anymore. I agreed when they insisted my imaginary friends were exactly that: imaginary.

  I couldn’t remember them, the friends who had been so important to me when I’d had no one else in my life who loved me. At the time, I was convinced they were real. But I was wrong because, to a certain extent, I was insane.

  At least I was aware of the fact. It made me feel slightly less certifiable.

  “Earth to Riley,” Kayla sang in my ear, and I jolted as her hot breath ghosted over my neck. Uncomfortable goose bumps crawled over my skin like spider legs, and I suppressed a shudder.

  I hastily apologized. “What did you say?”

  Kayla pouted her bottom lip. “You always daydream when I talk to you. I never thought I was boring before.”

  Guilt swamped me, and I swallowed back my unease and patted the back of her hand twice before returning my hand to my lap. “You’re not boring. I’m sorry for spacing out.”

  Apparently, my apology was enough. She smiled brilliantly at me, like I’d just promised to buy her the new car she’d been begging her father for the past few weeks. When she once again reached out to rub her palm over my shoulder, I stiffened but forced myself not to pull away so as not to offend her. She was immune to my recoil, gripping my arm hard enough to raise my heart rate to a panicky gallop.

  Her nails pricked my skin through my hoodie. She scooched forward, like she wanted to whisper in my ear. I couldn’t escape her. My brain screamed at her to let me go, to leave me alone. But she inched ever closer.

  At the last moment before her chest made contact with my elbow, her cup of iced chai tea resting near the edge of the table wobbled dangerously, then fell into her lap. The light brown liquid drenched her skirt, and she released me, jumping to her feet with a high-pitched screech.

  A mad scramble for napkins ensued as everyone at the table attempted to help in clean-up, but I didn’t move. I sat stock-still as the now empty cup spun in circles on the tile floor. The same cup that had, moments before, tipped all on its own.

  Logic said it was impossible for such a feat to occur, but I saw it happen. The cup’s position had been far from precarious, and no one had bumped the table or the glass. A light breeze, smelling subtly of tobacco and spices, had trickled past me in the split second before the cup spilled, but lazy air from the vents overhead couldn’t possibly have triggered the fall. It was beyond bizarre.

  “I can’t believe this! This skirt cost me sixty-eight fucking dollars.” Kayla wiped furiously at her pink skirt.

  “Riley, here.” Bethany waved a paper napkin in my face. “You got a bit of rebound splatter.”

  She pointed to my lap, and I accepted the napkins, dabbing at the syrupy-sweet liquid darkening the material of my jeans. It was no use; they were wet.

  Using this as an excuse, I gathered my tray along with the soaked napkins and made my escape. “I’m going back to the dorms,” I told Bethany as an irate Kayla continued to growl obscenities over her ruined skirt. “I’ll see you later.”

  Without waiting for a response, I walked briskly to the kitchen window to drop off my mostly full tray before hurrying from the student center. It was officially dark now. Not wanting to dawdle, I adopted a brisk walk toward my dorm.

  As I came upon the place where the albino model had lounged against the tree, my steps faltered. I should keep walking. I really should. Yet my body changed direction against my common sense.

  Grass swished against my sneakers as I approached the tree, the scent of sap, earth, and nature growing stronger as I reached out and ran my fingertips over the rough bark of the trunk. There was nothing here, no footprints or signs of human life, and my heart dropped to my toes. My eyes pricked with ridiculous tears as sorrow weighed on my shoulders. The grief was entirely absurd, but it settled heavily in my gut all the same.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat before spinning on my heels to leave the student center, courtyard, and tree behind me. A flash of crimson froze me mid-step, and my eyes widened as both hope and terror warred inside my chest for dominance. I wanted to simultaneously cheer in victory and run away in horror.

  Instead, I stood immobile for a never-ending moment before bending my knees into a crouch. Slowly, hesitantly, I reached toward the base of the tree where, resting on the ground almost out of sight, lay a half-eaten, ruby red apple.

  With apple in hand, I fled the courtyard, sprinting back to my dorm with a speed my body did not appreciate. My chest chugged like a locomotive as I took the stairs two at a time, not slowing until I burst into my dorm room and slammed the door shut. I locked it for good measure.

  Removing my shoes, I tucked them under my bed, then placed the apple on my side table. I peeled off my clothes and redressed in my pajamas, my eyes never leaving the red edges of the peel where teeth had ripped into it. Once in my jammies, I crawled onto my mattress and curled into a ball at the head, glaring at the offending piece of fruit.

  The edges of my mind trembled, and a headache bloomed behind my right eye. My heart hammered behind my ribcage. The telltale signs of a panic attack tickled the back of my neck. Oh God, not now!

  Ashamed, I yanked my anti-anxiety pills out of my pillowcase where I kept them tucked out of sight and swallowed two of them dry. I loathed medicine, but sometimes, I couldn’t avoid it. It was either the pills or an anxiety attack.

  I glowered at the apple as the medicine worked through my bloodstream, calming my heart and easing my frantic mind. My vision blurred, and my eyelids drooped. At long last, I closed my eyes, just to rest them.

  As I slowly floated away, slender fingers drifted through my hair as a soothing floral scent drifted over me. I was alone in my room, but the sudden presence beside me didn’t frighten me. In fact, I breathed easier.

  But no matter how much I wanted to revel in the kind, invisible touch grazing the shell of my ear, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be crazy. I just wanted to be normal.

  I buried my face in my arms and ignored the gentle, affectionate fingers sifting through my mahogany curls. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  I wished I believed it.

  Chapter Three

  When I woke Friday morning, the juicy, white flesh of the apple had browned, and the edges of skin were peeling. With a disgruntled huff, I tossed the fruit into the trash, irritated at myself for keeping it by my bedside all night.

  Brian’s bed was empty and untouched, the bedding rumpled from his romp yesterday afternoon with the nameless girl. My first class didn’t begin until ten, so I gathered his musty sheets and stripped my own mattress, throwing the large load into the washers in the communal laundry room in the basement.

  One of the benefits of waking early was the empty laundry room. Taking advantage, I ran two loads simultaneously to clean my dirty clothes from the week. I played Legend of Zelda online as I waited for the washers’ cycles to finish, then transferred the loads into the dryers.

  By the time the laundry finished, I had little time to fold it. I left my laundry bag of clean clothes on my bed and folded Brian’s sheets and placed them at the head of his mattress. He would complain of having to make his bed himself, but if I did it for him, I’d be late to my class.

  Fridays were my lightest days in my school schedule, and by two in the afternoon, I was heading to the student center for a late lunch. The mess hall was practically deserted. Most students who were free at this time of day had better, more social things to do than hang around the student center alone.

  According to Brian, the parties on campus were top notch. I assumed most of my peers spent their time at said parties. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly my scene. Crowds, alcohol, promiscu
ous behavior—the mere thought of such debauchery made my palms sweat. The last thing I needed was to wander into a college party and have an anxiety attack.

  With eyes downcast and shoulders hunched—a tactic I utilized in high school to appear small and nonthreatening—I entered the mess hall. Rounding the corner, I missed the body on the other side and crashed shoulder-first into a hard chest. An unattractive yelp escaped my mouth as I almost lost my balance, but I righted myself at the last moment.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sor…” My apologies died on my lips as I met the lightest pair of eyes I’d ever encountered.

  Practically colorless save for a purplish starburst circling the pupil, the eyes captured me. Any chance of conversation stuck in my throat. The rest of his familiar features—sloping jaw, straight nose, alabaster skin, and pearly hair—registered, and my glitching brain jumped into overdrive.

  “Sorry,” I finally finished lamely. “I’m sorry.”

  Full, pink lips stretched into a hesitant smile as the pretty albino added a foot of space between our bodies. “I promise, there’s no apology necessary.” His lyrical voice washed over me like a familiar song I had only now remembered was one of my favorites, and an involuntary shiver snaked down my spine.

  Someone brushed past me in an attempt to enter the mess hall, and I recoiled instinctively from the touch. My movement brought me closer to the pale-haired stranger, and I stiffened as the scent of sunshine and flowers wiggled a long-forgotten memory in my brain. Just as quickly as it appeared, the déjà vu evaporated like morning mist, leaving me baffled.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered again, and his smile widened.

  “You already said that.” His tinkling laughter trilled through the air like wind chimes, the musical notes of his amusement crackling over my skin until my hairs stood on end. I floundered for something intelligent to say, but he saved me from my humiliating silence. “I’m Noel, by the way.”