Faith Heights

Chapter 19

Theo grabbed a file from the bottom shelf of an old, dusty table against the window. I'd assumed the desk was decorative, holding only a fake plant. But what I'd mistaken for part of the wooden table's aged pattern was an intentional crack in the design, creating a barely noticeable shelf.

Theo hurried back over to the desk and opened the manila folder. There were so many papers inside that I wouldn't have thought a single folder could contain them all. I barely saw my named printed on the front of the file before the boys crowded around to see, cutting me off and causing me to stumble back abruptly. They all gasped in unison at what they saw, and I managed to shoulder through the five of them to catch a glimpse of my school photograph from last year. Beside it, tacked under a large paper clip, was another photo that stuck out of the folder at an odd angle, as if it had been attached and reattached a thousand times.

The picture was old enough to lack colour, and the edges were well past faded. Unlike my portrait-style image, the person captured here stood further back, with his head turned slightly, as if he didn't know he was being photographed. The boy didn't look any older than twenty, but his clothes could have been worn in the mid nineteenth century, maybe earlier. His disheveled blond hair swept across the side of his face, almost obscuring his features, but something about the picture revealed enough to make my stomach lurch. He bore smiling brown eyes, but the lines of his face were tense, as if the fate of the world rested on his shoulders. As if it always had.

As the boys leaned in to read more of the file, I was budged out of the way again. I tried to butt through, but they were too captivated by whatever the folder held to even remember my presence. After a minute more, I saw identical looks of outlandish shock cross each of their faces.

"What is it? What does it say?" I demanded.

When they all remained silent, I huffed and moved out of the room, ready to bolt if the alarm sounded again. I found myself drifting into the room where Leclair conducted my interviews, divided from her office by a thin grey wall. It appeared the same without the lamp's usual soft light, moonlight streaming in through the parted windows. The porcelain teapot remained on the glass table, surrounded by candles. The only difference was the heat of the room, and the steam rising from the open teapot.

The steam rose to the roof in sharp, sapphire blue tendrils. If Leclair was away, how was the pot still steaming, in the dead of the night? I edged closer and was instantly overcome by a familiar sweet, calming smell wafting towards me. 

I leaned over and peered inside the pot. It seemed to stir as if of its own will, brewing softly into the thick liquid I was always pushed to drink in my interviews.

My head started to spin. Too late, I realised that I was about to keel over. I tried to move my sluggish feet toward the door and call out for help, but my mind was turning into a dense fog. Just as I was felt on the verge of blacking out, warm arms moved to support my weight.

"Woah, I've got you." Jackson uttered gently. He helped me out of the room, and the instant I was free of the smoking heat and numbingly strong smell, my thoughts cleared. Out of the room, I could see that the misty liquid was filling the air like an incense candle, spreading its poison into every particle.

I heard more footsteps behind me. "Geez, what happened to her?" Theo asked.

Jackson put one of my arms around his shoulders. "She found the brew that Leclair uses in the interviews. Grab her other side." He instructed.

My knees wobbled as I leaned onto the two of them, and we slowly made our way back outside into the wonderfully fresh air. I took a deep lungful, and strength instantly returned to my limbs.