A Strange Fire (Florence Vaine) (27 page)

 “You probably shouldn’t do things like that,” he says in a low voice,
and a little butterfly flutters in my chest.

 “We need to find Sam,” I whisper to him. “Something happened to me last
night that you both need to know about.”

 “Are you all right?” he asks with concern.

 “I am now,” I reply, brushing off his worry. “Now c-come on, I want to
get this over with so I’m not late for class.”

 Frank teases me on the way to Sam’s office, tickling me under the arms
when he learns that I’m sensitive in that area. I try my best to ignore the
fact that he lingers close to me for longer than necessary when he does this.
When we get to the office Sam is already outside, standing back against the
door jamb and carrying out a conversation with the school principal, Miss
Waterfield. This is only the second time I’ve seen her around the school, but
Caroline was good enough to tell me her name and that she’s only been at
Chesterport Secondary for two years.

 I don’t need to read her body language to know that she’s completely
infatuated with Sam. I almost feel embarrassed being able to see the depth of
red that frames her. I wonder if perhaps they are lovers. The thought makes me
happy, because Miss Waterfield is at least in her mid to late thirties, and
though her looks aren’t at all ugly, she is a small bit plain. She wears a grey
pencil skirt and a white blouse with sensible flat shoes. Her blond hair is cut
into a very short bob.

 I can’t imagine what it would be like to be her and to have a man like
Sam show an interest. Actually, I think that’s why the idea of the two of them
together warms me. It reminds me of what it’s like when Frank shows an interest
in me.

 Sam spots us first. “Hi guys, everything okay?” he asks, and the
principal tenses up when she realises they’re no longer alone. A more
professional air comes over her and she nods politely to me and Frank.

 “Sorry to disturb,” says Frank. “But would it be all right if we had a
word with you Sam?”

 “Of course, come on inside,” Sam replies, and we step in past him as he
turns back to the principal. “We’ll talk later, Stephanie,” he says, before
closing over the door.

 Frank plonks himself into a chair, a massive grin on his face.
“Stephanie, eh?” he teases, “You mixing work with pleasure, Sam?”

 “Don’t be so ridiculous,” Sam replies firmly. My heart sinks a little,
because Miss Waterfield is clearly smitten, and there’s nothing more saddening
than an unrequited love. Although, maybe Sam’s just very good at covering up
his feelings, and since I can’t read him there’s no way to be sure if he and
the principal actually are together or not.

 “My bad,” Frank replies, though he smiles in satisfaction at having
gotten to Sam.

 Sam ignores him and goes to sit down in his chair. I take the one beside
Frank.

 “So, what’s this the two of you wanted to talk about?” he asks.

 “Florence has something to tell us,” says Frank. “I’m just as in the
dark as you are mate.”

 Sam turns to me, expectant.

 “First,” I begin. “Have you d-discovered anything about what’s been
happening to me yet?”

 “Not yet,” he answers. “But my sources will be getting back to me very soon.”

 “Okay, well there’s been a development,” I continue, eyeing the two of
them, gauging their reactions. “Last night I got this weird headache, and then
I fainted and woke up inside of someone else’s body. I’m ninety-nine per cent
sure it was Lauren’s.”

 “Lauren, as in the dead girl Lauren?” Frank asks, in open-mouthed shock,
sitting up straight now and listening intently.

 “Yes, at least I think it was her. I was in the forest lying on the
ground, and I died with her. The women I saw in that first dream I had were
there, and the leader sucked the life from Lauren with some kind of magic. It
was the m-most awful thing I’ve ever been through.”

 “This – this is good,” says Sam, with a degree of excitement. “We’re
coming closer to discovering the truth. If you keep having these visions, these
dreams, then it’s only a matter of time before you see something vital that
will bring everything to light. Flo, is there anything else you can remember
that stands out, that might be a clue?”

 I take a moment to think. “I could hear her thoughts, Lauren’s, and she
was so – frightened. She kept thinking something about no sound coming out when
she tried to scream. Maybe there was some kind of magic preventing her from
making a sound. That kind of thing would certainly come in handy if you’re
murdering someone.”

 Goosebumps form on my arms and I rub them up and down to rid myself of
the chill. Silence fills the room, I disrupt it when I ask, “Sam, why am I
seeing these things?”

 He runs a hand through his hair. “Your abilities seem to be developing,
perhaps because there are things you need to see in order to stay safe. Often,
in times of urgency, those with psychic abilities begin to be able to do things
they couldn’t do before. This is because although their conscious mind doesn’t
perceive that danger is close, their psychic mind is more attuned to any
preternatural events that are happening nearby, or that have happened in the
vicinity in the recent past. In your particular case, you are being sent
visions while you are in an unconscious state as a warning that bad things are
afoot. The fact that last night’s vision couldn’t wait until you slept, but
caused you to lose consciousness by fainting, well, I suppose that indicates
that events are quickening and whatever is coming is coming very soon.”

 “Well, that’s reassuring,” Frank adds, with a sarcastic raising of his
eyebrow.

 “It is preferable to knowing nothing and being unprepared,” says Sam.

 Frank shrugs but doesn’t answer back. We’re quiet for a minute, letting
it all sink in. I have to actively prevent myself from panicking. I may have
had vision-like dreams, but that doesn’t mean I’m in any way prepared for what
might be coming.

 “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss, Flo?” Sam asks, breaking
through my agitated thoughts.

 “No, just, will you try your best to find something out soon?”

 “You have my word. Now, the two of you had better get to class, we’ll
talk tomorrow when I know more.”

 I nod automatically, and cringe inwardly at the thought of another night
of ignorance and vulnerability to terrifying psychic visions. Frank and I hurry
to our respective classes and I don’t see him again until lunch time. I’m late
coming into the canteen because my German teacher kept me back to discuss how
I’m finding the subject, which was nice and awkward. I stammer a lot when I
have to talk to teachers.

 Josh is sitting at his usual table with his friends, and we make eye
contact for a second as I scan the room. It’s bizarre that I can look at him
right now without receiving a smirk or an arrogant glare in return. He simply
stares at me without any expression at all. I wonder whether this is progress
or something more sinister. Frank is already sitting and eating with his foster
brothers, but I don’t go to him.

 After last night I feel a strong urge to spend some time with Caroline,
so that I can discover more about what happened to Lauren. What was going on in
her life in the lead up to her murder? A trickle of guilt slides over me, along
with the notion that I only care so much about this dead girl because I’m
possibly the next target on her killer’s hit list. But I push that idea
straight out of my head. I know it can’t be true, because I know that when
Caroline first spoke of Lauren I felt an unexplainable connection to the girl.
That might mean that Sam’s theory is true, and my psychic mind really is
steering me toward understanding the threat that’s headed for me. It’s the only
explanation I’m willing to be believe in.

 “Not eating lunch with the Danson boys today, Flo?” Christian asks, and
I swear I can hear a note of hostility in his voice.

 I don’t have the energy to ask why he’s upset with me, so I simply
reply, “No, not today,” and ignore his rude tone, which by the way, is so
unlike him.

 “Don’t listen to him,” Caroline whispers. “He’s just jealous of all the
time you’ve been spending with Frank.”

 I stare at her in confusion for a second, before realisation hits me. Oh
God
. Is she serious? I’m no good at this. All of a sudden the lunch
table feels way too crowded. I pick up my sandwich and carton of juice and,
like a zombie, walk straight out of the canteen.

 “Where are you going, Flo?” Caroline calls after me, but I don’t answer,
I just keep walking until I get outside into the fresh air, and select a patch
of grass to sit on over by the railing that cordons the school grounds off from
the main street beyond.

 I blink rapidly to keep from crying like an absolute wimp. And I feel so
alone. I wasn’t upset by Christian’s tone so much as it was the catalyst to
send me off the deep end and break down over all of the bizarre things that
have been happening to me. Over which I have no control. Just thinking of all
of my new friends back there, Frank with his brothers and Caroline with her
small group, they all have somewhere to belong. This only serves to emphasise
the fact that I have no real family.

 Gran has come into my life too late and is too old to really be any kind
of support to me, and Dad, well, I think I’d be the happiest girl in the world
if he could just appear in front of me, take me in his arms and tell me
everything is going to be all right. But that’s never going to happen. He’ll
never be the kind of father to love me unconditionally and pick me up when I
fall down. It’s a simple thing, and when it comes down to it, it’s really all
that I want. Knowing I can never have it makes something inside of me harden,
and I lose another piece of my innocence. I take a furious bite out of my
sandwich and a big gulp of juice. It fizzles up my noise and makes me sneeze and
my eyes water.

 “Penny for your thoughts,” asks an unfamiliar voice. I jump and look to
see a middle aged woman wearing a shirt and jeans, her hands holding onto the
handles of a buggy, inside of which sits a little blonde haired toddler. The
woman’s aura makes me feel like taking the tiny boy from her and somehow making
sure that no one ever entrusts her with the care of a small child ever again.

 Her colours are all muted and dull, indicating the mind of a highly
evolved sociopath. Emotions exist in her, but she lacks the ability to feel
them, or has simply conditioned herself not to. It’s actually laughable that
she is expressing concern for me, since it is absolutely missing from her aura.
Her muted colours move around slow and slithery like a snake, but all I can
make out in her is an eagerness for me to bare my feelings so that she can eat
them up and manipulate me. I fold my arms across my chest, closing myself off
to her.

 “N-none of your fucking business,” I reply, and she feigns surprise at
my harsh words.

 “There’s no need to be rude,” she says, in the sweet voice of a caring
mother. It’s a pity insincerity drips from her colours like a poison. “I saw
you sitting there, looking all down and I just thought a friendly face might
cheer you up.”

 “We both know you don’t care,” I tell her in a dead voice, sometimes the
badness I see in people makes me lose faith in the world.

 Her eyes flash to a cold, grey steel, and although she is a completely
random stranger, I feel like I know her from somewhere. She is an unremarkable
woman, mousy brown hair, pale skin, dark eyes. But it isn’t her appearance
that’s familiar, it’s her presence, like I’ve been around her before but can’t
remember when.

 She shakes her head and says, “Suit yourself.” Then she starts to walk
away, pushing the buggy along.

 I stand up and gather my things, running out of the school gates to
follow her. “Hey, w-wait, do I know you?” I shout, but she keeps on walking,
pretending she can’t hear me call her. When I catch up to her, courage from
deep down inside of me propels me forward. It’s so out of character for me to
do this, but I grab her by the arm. A foreign kind of anger consumes me as I
yank her backwards, and the little boy in the buggy begins to cry from the
jolt.

 She lets go of the handle and flips around, her eyes bulge out of her
head in rage.

 “Don’t you
dare
touch me you little tramp!” she spits, and I
narrowly avoid her spraying me in the face. She pushes me away from her with an
almighty force, and I fall down flat onto the hard pavement. My hands that are
still healing from last Saturday when I got knocked over by John’s car get
re-scraped, and I cringe with the stinging pain. It’s at this exact moment that
sheer confusion hits me, because I’d swear she pushed me back without touching
me at all, but rather with an invisible energy force.

 “H-h-how...” I stutter and can’t get the rest to come out.

 The woman stares a hole into my head. “You watch yourself, Florence
Vaine,” she seethes, low and threatening.

 “Who are you?” I yell. “And how do you know my name?”

 I stumble to my feet, but the second I’m upright she knocks me back
again. This time I know for sure that she didn’t touch me, because I’m standing
more than three feet away from her. I look her in the eye and my heart begins
to thrum erratically as the outline of a black heretic’s cross shapes itself on
her forehead, rising out of her skin like ink. It’s certainly enough to stop me
from coming after her again. I turn on my heel and run all the way back to the
safety of the school building as fast as I can.

The school halls are deserted when I get back inside. I lean back against
the cold, cream painted concrete wall around the corner from the lockers, and
try to catch my breath. A voice I know so well rings out, echoing through the
empty corridor. The words are spoken quietly, but I can still hear them. There
is a firmness to the voice, a level of purposeful intimidation.