Dark Victory. Brenda Joyce
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her class. If she did not get a grip and focus on her students, it would be an endless day for her, and unfair to them. Besides, a medieval warrior with the power to travel through time could probably handle a few cops and a wound or two. But she was not relieved. As she greeted her kids, she almost expected him to walk into her classroom, but every time she looked up, a parent or a student stood there.
A tiny, pretty blond girl named Willa, who happened to be one of Tabby’s brightest pupils, came into the classroom. “How are you, Willa?” she asked. Willa could already read and write at the second-grade level, and she was always asking questions that were amazingly insightful for a six-year-old.
Willa asked, “Can we have a spelling bee?”
Tabby laughed, and laughing felt good. “A spelling bee! You must have seen that show on TV over the weekend. I’ll think about it.” It was a foregone conclusion that if they had a spelling bee, Willa would win it.
More children filed in, greeting her with happy smiles, calling out to one another eagerly. It was a really good group of kids. But she couldn’t relax and she couldn’t stop worrying—or glancing at the door. When a few of the parents and caretakers expressed concern over the Sword Murderer being on the loose, Tabby reassured them all that the school was completely safe. Was he nearby?
If only she had a moment to focus, she would meditate and try to feel his presence.
Finally her last student arrived. Tabby shut the door, asking everyone to settle down so they could talk about the lame-duck presidency. “Does anyone remember what that means?” she asked. As she showed the class a picture of a duck, the kids shrieked and made outlandish comments. She let them carry on, her gaze drifting to the newspaper article.
“Ms. Rose? Ms. Rose!”
Tabby jerked, realizing the kids had settled down and were waiting for her expectantly. She heard her classroom door open, but did not turn. Assuming it was a staff member, she said, “Who wants to try to tell me what a lame-duck president is?”
Only Willa raised her hand. Tabby noticed that the kids were distracted by whoever had come into the room, but she said, “Willa?”
“Why are they locking the door?”
Tabby turned as she heard the lock click. Two teenage boys stood by the door, clad from head to toe in black, their complexions eerily pale and made more so by the application of pancake makeup.
Her heart began to thunder uncontrollably. The boys had the appearance of the subs that ran in the gangs burning civilians. She prayed the boys were Goths, not possessed humans. The sub gangs had always preyed on the Innocent in large groups—until last week’s Rampage. As for her “new” sixth sense, the only feeling she was getting was that these boys were definitely looking for trouble.
She managed to feign a calm she did not feel as she slowly put the paper aside and stood up. “Hello.” The children must not be alarmed. “Can I help you?”
The boy who had pitch-black hair with flame-colored streaks dyed in it grinned. “You sure can, Teach.”
She didn’t know if she finally had the power to sense evil or not, but she knew these boys were evil. While she didn’t know what they wanted, she did know their intent was purely malicious. How was she going to protect the children?
She turned from them and smiled at the children. “I have a great idea. Everyone sit down on the floor in a small circle, with the paper. Find as many items relating to the President as you can.”
One of the teen boys snickered.
“Come on,” Tabby said, wanting to gather the children into one tight group. As they all sat down on the floor, as far from the two boys and the door as she could get them, she handed Willa the article. “Willa, I want you to be the group leader and make a list.”
Willa stared at her with her big, intelligent blue eyes. Tabby smiled more fully; Willa knew something was wrong. “Are they going to watch the class?” Willa asked.
“Maybe.” Tabby smiled, when she heard the whirring of a drill.
She whirled and saw the blond boy drilling holes into the door. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” the dark-haired boy said. He pulled out a long metal object from his backpack.
The blonde was now drilling a set of holes into the wall, and Tabby realized they were adding a bolt to the door to lock her and the children inside the classroom. She lowered her voice, aware of her fear rising. But she somehow breathed and tamped it down. “Whatever you intend, do it to me. But let the children go.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, pretty lady. We are definitely doing it to you.” He laughed at her.
Tabby wet her lips, knowing she must hold her fear at bay for the children’s sake. She sent a silent message to Sam—telepathy was huge for them. “What’s your name?”
He bared his teeth and said, “Angel. You like that…Tabitha?”
They knew her name. Then comprehension flashed in her mind—her name was on the door. “You want me, not the children. Please, whatever you want, I won’t resist. But we have to let the children go, now.”
“We’ve got plans for the kiddies,” Angel said.
“Ms. Rose?” Willa asked.
Tabby jerked, wishing Willa hadn’t left the security of the circle of children, as false as it was. She took her hand. “Willa, go back to the other children.”
Willa looked carefully from her to Angel and then to the blonde, who was drilling screws into the new lock on the door. “Is he locking us in?”
Before Tabby could come up with an excuse for what was happening, Angel said, “We sure are, pretty girl.” He walked away and dumped the contents of a huge duffel onto the floor.
Tabby cringed as she saw the kindling.
He poured gasoline on it and grinned. “What’s wrong, Teach? Afraid of fire?”
Tabby breathed. “Go back to the other children, Willa.” But now she saw that every child had his or her eyes trained upon the drama that was unfolding.
Angel’s hand snaked out and he seized Willa, who screamed. “Maybe we’ll start with her, witch,” he said to Tabby.
Tabby sent Willa a reassuring glance, and Willa fought her tears and stopped struggling. “Let my student go,” she said, and it was not a request.
Angel nodded at his blond friend, ignoring her. The blonde produced matches and began to light one.
Tabby’s heart thundered as he lit the match. Her mind raced with lightning speed. Willa was going to be burned at the stake, and perhaps the other children would, too. And then they’d burn her. She needed a spell.
Dear God, it had to work.
The pile of kindling burst into flames. The children screamed, except for Willa, who was deathly pale now. But she could not calm the other children. Tabby closed her eyes and murmured, “Fire fears water, fire needs rain. Fear fears water, give us rain. Rain douse fire, give us rain.”
“She’s casting a spell,” the blonde said, sounding a bit alarmed.
Tabby opened her eyes. Nothing had happened; nothing had changed. Her students were crowded together by her desk, some of them crying, and all of them were staring at the fire roaring in the front of the classroom. The blond boy seemed nervous, but Angel looked pissed. Tabby was expecting the fire alarm to go off, but it did not. Surely they hadn’t been smart enough to dismantle the fire alarms last night or that morning before school?
Tabby glanced at the ceiling and saw a wire hanging off the closest alarm, and her heart sank. The fire alarms had been tampered with. Then she saw a yellow mark spreading across the ceiling.
“Come on, pretty girl—girls get to go first,” Angel said,