Little Spark

43 - Stolen

"Bliss, what's troubling you?" Mr. Casey's voice startles me. He's sitting at his desk with his arms crossed staring at me with his bushy brown brows all furrowed.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. "What makes you think something's troubling me?"

He lifts an eyebrow. "You've practically burned a hole in my podium with your death-glare, and you're on the verge of incinerating Pride and Prejudice." I look down at my book—between the throbbing orange light and the sparks, my hands do look like they're on fire. "In general, I prefer to keep my nose out of the affairs of my students," he continues, "but you've been spending lunch hour in here for a week. I know I make riveting company, but come on now."

I sigh. Candis and I still aren't speaking. I've also failed to make any progress on the quest in the two weeks since discovering the Common Grounds sign—considering the deadline of mass death that looms larger with each passing day, I'm more than a little jittery. Also, while the nightmare of my dad's murder has stopped, in its place, I've been having that other nightmare where Reign is on the street kissing that random blonde girl and I wind up in Oskur's lair of sociopathology unable to do squat about the impending deaths of everyone I care about.

On top of all that, since hearing Lylah's little tale week ago, I've been avoiding Reign like bubonic plague again. I know he knows about Cole's visit because I found a note from him in my locker the next day that said, "Don't be afraid. More bark than bite. Please call me."

I didn't call.

I woke up to a note on my nightstand two days later: "Going crazy. Need to see you. Tree on Saturday. Noon." He called Saturday evening after I didn't show up, and then he called again on Sunday morning, but I guess he didn't buy the "she's not home" story he got from Aunt Lil because at 4:37PM the doorbell rang. When Aunt Lil poked her head in my room to tell me a 'handsome green-eyed boy who Ruby seems to be afraid of' was at the door for me, I just about choked on my gum. I told her to tell him I was sleeping.

The crazy part is, as mad as I am and as betrayed as I feel, the more time passes, the more I miss him. How odd it is to feel so betrayed, but so full of longing at the same time. At this point, I have no idea what I would do if I saw him. Slap him? Hug him? Shoot fire at him? Kiss him with every once of rage and fire and passion I feel? That's why I've been hiding out here every day.

But of course I can't tell Mr. Casey that.

"I just feel a little off lately," I say. "I guess you could say there are a number of things on my plate that are too large for my stomach."

He nods. "You're aware of the large-scale initiation, I assume?"

He registers what must be a baffled look on my face and smiles. "The information was given to your source by mysource, Miss Myer. You're remaining diligent in your journey?"

I nod, completely dumbfounded. How Mr. Casey manages to stay so many steps ahead blows my mind.

"Bell's in three minutes," he says, looking at his watch. "Over the coming weeks, pay attention to the newspaper. Our enemies are crafty, but they are also conceited; the combination lends itself to sloppiness. What I've noticed over the years is that the same stories repeat with different victims—random 'electrical' fires, fatal single-car accidents, sudden suicides; our town's Daily tends to be rife with clues...."

I'm thrown back to the night of the murder: my dad sits in his chair reading a newspaper. He closes it and tucks it in the chair beside him just before mom begins her card trick.

"....must be going, Miss Myer," Mr. Casey says as I come back to the present. "Do close the door on your way out." I raise my hand to protest—I'm not sure how much of his instructions I missed—but he just smiles at me. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Bliss. And don't worry: all will be well." His eyes twinkle as he exits the room.