The Fake Eye (Time Alchemist) Page 6

  I heard Tasha finally walk away. And, just to make sure that she knew I was really paying attention, I counted out loud all the way to one hundred before tugging the blindfold down around my neck. My eyes widened.

  I was in front of the Old Chapel. Of all the places that they could have taken me, I got the Old Chapel. I couldn’t tell if I was thrilled to have a familiar place or dreading it—because it was nearly impossible to get inside.

  The clock was ticking, and I felt a pinch of irritation. I bet Tasha (under her own will or Mallory’s orders) had made me count to one hundred just to waste some time. So I got to work, circling the small building, looking for any entrance. I tugged at the boarded doors, but they wouldn’t budge an inch. The windows were all at least two feet higher than my head, and the ones that weren’t boarded up were broken with sharp, pointy edges.

  But if that was my best bet…

  I backed up, took a breath, and raced to the building, jumping as far as I could. But my hands only grazed the sill, and I slammed on my back. The air was sucked right out of me and I saw stars. But I had to get up. I had to prove to them that any scholarship girl with a father for a janitor had the same rights as them.

  So I rolled to my side, backed up even farther, and sprinted to the wall.

  My fingers did grasp the sill, but they slipped easily and I crashed down once again. I raced around the edge of the woods, looking for a fallen log that I could roll over to give me an extra boast, but found nothing. So I tried and tried again, jumping up, barely hanging on to the sill before falling on my ass.

  If I was Dove, I could do this easily.

  On the sixth attempt, I lay on my back trying to catch my breath as I rubbed my fingers. Tears stung my eyes. Was Samantha going through something equally as difficult? What about that girl Bethany? Was this Mallory’s real plan? To give me a mark that I just couldn’t get to? I wanted to

  curl up in a ball and cry.

  I turned my head to the side, having a clear view of the underside of the church. It was raised a foot in the air for some reason. Maybe in case of floods? But I could just imagine all the creepy crawlies and wild animals that had their homes under here. Or back when the church was still used when St.

  Mary’s was still an orphanage, little children playing hide and seek underneath the dirty—

  Something was moving underneath the Chapel. I squinted my eyes, thinking it was just tall grass swaying in a light breeze, or a—ugh—animal crawling underneath. But…no, it was like something was hanging underneath the building, rocking back and forth like a pendulum.

  “Well,” I muttered, pulling myself on my belly, “What the heck have I got to lose?”

  Bracing myself, I shimmied underneath the building. There was barely enough room to crawl around, and I had to tilt my head at an angle so it wouldn’t smack against the wood. Inch by inch, I crawled a little closer to the swaying goal.

  “Please don’t let there be bugs, please don’t let there be bugs…” Yuck.

  The ground underneath was moist and soft; I was already forming a collection of dirt underneath my nails that would take days to clean out, and I was absolutely positive my clothes were going to have grass stains. (I hated grass stains so much—they were a pain to get out of fabric.) Something thin smacked against my face and I let out a squeak. Flailing as much as I could flail, my hand grabbed against…something. A string? No, a rope, like…a pulley or something.

  I grasped it with a sweaty hand and had to tug it a couple of times for whatever to open—and sure enough, a piece of wide board came loose,

  knocking the top of my skull.

  Though the pain made white stars sparkle in my vision, I had just realized that—against all odds—I had found a hidden way into the Old Chapel.

  And judging by the looks of it and how hard I had to pry it open, it hadn’t been used in decades.

  I had just found a trap door leading into the Old Chapel!

  Man, St. Mary’s really had some cool, hidden stuff. Underground tunnels, church’s with trapdoors…as I fumbled with the rope, cracking the door open, I realized that maybe Mallory wasn’t trying to set me up after all—

  this had to be a trial that other girls before me must have faced. And with a trapdoor, that means it was possible to get inside and get Isabella’s bible!

  The door was big enough to squeeze through, and I crawled in, gulping fresh (although a little dusty) air. I was right behind a podium covered in dusty sheets that really needed a good washing. Once I got up and brushed my pants off, I took a quick look at the Old Chapel: it was just a large one room building with a dozen set of pews on each side. On the second story were balconies that encircled the entire floor. I could imagine if I lived during Isabella’s time, sitting up on those balconies, I would have a glorious view of the floor below.

  The few windows that weren’t boarded up let out soft, blue light. It was just enough light to work with.

  I had no time to celebrate; I needed to get to work.

  Quickly, I looked all over the first floor, surprised to discover old, abandoned books still left in the small cubbies behind each pew. As if previous St. Mary’s students had just up and left them behind, without second thought. It was a little sad, but I felt my heart race with a little excitement. Each book I picked up felt brittle and old, the pages almost yellow. Some had scribbles on the front pages, but it wasn’t eligible.

  But with every lost bible I went through—all six of them—none of them had any hint that they belonged to Isabella. Was I wrong? Did I miss one by accident, or did a previous Sister forget to put it back for future trials?

  Or was this all an elaborate set-up?

  No way. Don’t think that. I couldn’t give up. I was not going back empty handed. With new adrenaline, I went through the old texts twice more, searched all the cobweb covered corners and even around the podium. I even tried finding a way to the second floor, but the door that must have lead up was shut tight.

  I was grasping at straws, flipping again through the bibles, pressing the book as close to my face as possible and squinting at the fading ink and hoping that any of them spelled out Isabella Thompson.

  “Dammit!” I wasn’t getting anywhere! So what if I could find Isabella’s Bible? There were six ripe for the picking—they probably didn’t even belong to specific girls. There. Plan solved. I closed the book with a snap, letting a plume of dust loose. A sneeze escaped my throat, and I jammed my elbow on the end of the pew, cursing a string of words that would put a sailor to shame.

  “It’s done. Eat that, Mallory.” I mumbled, rubbing my sore elbow. For safety’s sake, I tucked the bible under my shirt so it wouldn’t get any…uh, dirtier than it already was, and crawled out of the pew.

  And heard footsteps above me.

  My heart and body froze simultaneously, until I instinctively crouched down, peering up as much as my strained neck could handle it. There were no shadows moving on the second floor landings, no whispers. Was that all just my imagination?

  A floorboard creaked, and a cold sweat broke over my skin.

  Okay normally, it was a bad, bad idea to call out in an abandoned house

  and have the potential serial killer find your hidden location—but what the hell were the odds of something like that? True, this old Church was nestled in the woods, far away from the other buildings. But St. Mary’s was surrounded by a sturdy gate. Plus, it was nearly impossible to get inside.

  Unless…

  “Very funny, Mallory!” I called out, my voice bouncing off the white walls. “Why don’t you go be a sore loser somewhere else?”

  I paused, waiting for the hushed giggling to begin, for some sort of bizarre prank to start (was she going to throw rubber spiders at me? A bucket of glue and feathers?), but nothing happened. Not a sound, not a breath. Maybe I really was imagining this—all alone in a dark, spooky old church in the middle of the night—

  Until all the cobwebbed coated waxed candles—that clearly haven�
��t been lit in over fifty years—burst into fiery orange sparks all at once.

  “M-Mallory?” I squeaked out, pressing myself harder against the back of the pew. “Karin? Guys? Anyone?” It was a cool trick, obviously someone had set all the candles to light up at the same time. Like…those birthday candles that wouldn’t blow out no matter how hard you blew on them.

  But I knew this wasn’t some cheap trick or ploy to scare me away from the Magnolia Bells. Would Mallory really go this far? Maybe, but there was something odd about the candles. Something…unnatural…

  And my fears came to life when out of nowhere, a window just behind me shattered into pieces, splintering the silent night. A bloody screech broke through my lips as millions of glittering shards came raining down on my shivering form. I covered my face with my arms, feeling small bits bounce of my skin, occasionally scratching me, until it was silent once more.

  I hadn’t even taken a breath when I saw what had caused the window to

  break in the first place. Right in front of me, planted squarely in the middle of the center aisle—just a foot away from my cowering body—was an arrow.

  CHAPTER 9

  I waited for the laughing that should have come next. All of the candles lit up at the same time, like those trick birthday candles, flickering with a reddish-orange warmth that filled the cold, empty chapel and danced along the white walls. I waited for some TV crew to come popping out, and Mallory shouting

  “You’ve been punked!”

  Except nothing happened. There was no snickering, no girls peering out from the windows with sly grins on their faces. No flash of cameras of even skittering animals crawling about. I was the only person in this chapel.

  At least, I thought I was.

  CRASH!

  I jumped ten feet feeling my heart fly through my chest and turned just in time to see the nearest long silver candle holder to fall to the ground with a piercing clatter; knocked over by what? The wind? Invisible strings? Or something else? But I didn’t have time to play twenty questions, because the lit candles had only landed a few feet away from me—and the fire was crawling along the floor, fast!

  I yelped, scrambling backwards from the pew as the floor began to dance with fire. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I twisted to my feet, hitting my shoulder against a pew as I raced towards the podium—then I felt a hiss of hot air kiss my cheek before something thwacked against the podium’s old wooden surface, stopping me dead in my tracks. I stood there, dumbstruck as fire crackled all around me and the air turned hotter than normal southern humidity.

  Right there, smack dab in the middle of the podium, was another arrow; the feathered tip consumed in hot flames. The fire grew so quickly I had no

  time to react as it covered the podium like an angry, hungry monster ready to devour anything in its path.

  CRACK!

  A scream got caught in my throat as I looked up to see the second floor balconies enriched in thick fire, licking the ceilings and banisters and crawling down the walls. Thick fumes of black smoke floated towards the ceiling, narrowly escaping from the few broken and cracked windows. Then all the candle holders around me burst into greater flames, spreading across the walls and broken stain glass windows and floors.

  I grabbed for the mess of blankets in the corner and began patting the flames furiously by the podium, trying to get around it so I could jump through the hidden door, but they just grew and grew until the edges of the blanket caught fire!

  I let out another shriek when a large piece of the wooden rafter crashed just feet away from me, sending me toppling to the ground. I rolled to my side, coughing painfully as I saw that the hidden door had been covered.

  My escape route was completely blocked off.

  I was trapped.

  The room got hot. Sweat rolled down my skin, soaking my hair and clothes as I pushed the silk blindfold to my nose and got to my knees, crawling towards the only open window. A few more candle holders fell to the floor, enveloping the wooden rows in fire. I heard the crackling of wood and the thick scent of smoke was choking.

  My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t concentrate. My vision was getting all blurry; the edges of my eyes going gray. The floor felt so hot and my knees ached, but I kept crawling. Then, a sickening, loud, crack overhead brought my head up. The rafters above me were completely enclosed in fire—

  and were about to cave any second!

  Second…of course. Duh, Emery! I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down. I focused on the pounding of my heart. Stay calm….stay calm....stay calm….

  I opened my eyes slowly against the hot smoke and burning cinders, the sting of the heat bringing tears to my eyes. The golden ribbons in the air were nearly obscured by the thick smoke. With little time to think, I pulled at the nearest ones and yanked hard, until the cracking of wood and the intense heat seemed to muffle, as if this were a stage and all of the fire and heat were behind a thick red curtain. Then, with a last burst of energy I pulled myself onto the sill—the very window that I had tried (unsuccessfully) to climb through, and the one that Dove had effortless leapt in and out of last semester, as if it were a piece of cake—and prepared myself for the fall. My hands dug into the sharp jagged ends of glass and I hurtled myself onto the grass below.

  The fall hurt freakin’ bad, my whole side crashed into the ground, sending a white hot flash of pain over my body. The air was knocked out of my lungs, sending stabbing pains in my chest with every attempted breath. I clawed at the ground, but my hands were slick with sweat and blood. The fire grew hot, brushing against my face.

  I need to get out, I need to get out…. but dammit, my body wasn’t moving! Black spots flickered in front of me, dancing about like dull stars; there was a ringing in my head…

  And a shadow of someone tall looming over me.

  I had the dull senses of being lifted up as easy as if I were a sack of flour, being cradled in someone’s strong arms, and I was carried away, relishing the air turning cool against my flushed skin. My vision was too blurred—I couldn’t make heads or tails of the face of the stranger rescuing me.

  I tried to speak, make my lips form words, but they turned to ash on my tongue.

  It felt like my throat was thick with glue, and I sucked in feeble breaths of air with every step we took farther and farther away from the blazing inferno.

  In my dizzying state, I was indecisively aware of two sets of voices.

  Were they just voices in my head? Had the smoke made me hallucinate?

  “Is she alright?” a hushed, soft feminine voice spoke up, sounding as light as a cloud.

  The man carrying me didn’t say anything, just grunted in reply, though his grip did get tighter. I heard the girl let out an exhale. Finally, however, the man did speak up: “What’s the plan, Chrys?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  I cracked open my eyes. I saw a blank face; dark eyes and messy black hair that looked rumpled and messed up, sticking in odd places all over his crown. For some reason, my eyes kept going towards his ear, where three bright earrings seemed to glow unnaturally.

  We were in the woods—I knew that much from the cracking of dead branches underneath our feet; the brush of a leaf in my hair; the peaceful sounds of the woods—

  A large explosion fractured the air, nearly knocking us over. I peered over the stranger ’s shoulder just to see a giant, flaming red ball; black smoke drifting towards the air like a large balloon—the exact place where the Old Chapel stood. Now it was a smoldering mess.

  I knew I was on the ground, the tall stranger hovering over me like a shield. Vaguely, I saw the form of a girl lingering over his shoulder. They both shouted at each other, but I couldn’t make out a word…

  “Call Julio,” the male snapped. “Tell him it’s an emergency—we’ll meet him by the back gates.”

  And everything felt…off, distant. Like this was all just a dream. The world seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer until I felt like I was falling down a deep, dar
k abyss…

  ○○○

  I woke up again, though my body felt…numb. For a split second, I really did think I was dead, and my heart starting lurching inside my ribcage. My eyelids were too heavy to open, so I concentrated on calming my heart down…

  breathing in…breathing out…slowly…slowly…

  Then I was aware of the voices. But this time there were three.

  Though my body felt heavy, there was a strange, but warm light that seemed to surround me, turning my muscles and bones into warm goo. It was too nice to even think about getting up, so I let it go.

  “This is the best I’m going to do under the circumstances,” an older man spoke. It was definitely different from the younger male that carried me—

  he had a thick accent that sounded like he was from up north…Chicago, maybe? “She’ll be sore as hell in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Julio,” the girl said, “Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”

  “It’s nothing,” he grunted in reply, “Just try to think next time you go barging in like that—we’re trying to keep low, remember?”

  “I know, I’m sorry. But we got there just in time—if we hadn’t moved her—”

  “Well, you two did good, given the circumstances.”

  A pause, then some muffled tones. I stirred a little, and instantly the two became quiet. But when it was clear I wasn’t going to wake up, they continued, though they talked in more hushed tines.

  “Ru,” the older one spoke up, “What’s Christopher saying we should do?”

  “He told us that he’ll handle all the cover ups,” a boy spoke up from somewhere behind us. “And that Chrys should…”

  More mumbling. The girl sounded worried, but reluctantly agreed to whatever orders she had been given. I felt a soft, small hand on my brow. My eyes opened just barely, and the last thing I saw before it went dark was a cobalt blue eye staring right at me.