Legends of Mirandis Academy

Chapter 18: Repent!

"God is here to kill us," whimpered Luna, which Brielle found to be a touch melodramatic, even for a thespian. She couldn't see Luna—she could barely see her hand in front of her face—but she imagined the other girl cowering, clinging to Duran or whomever happened to be nearest. Other people were exclaiming as well. Gasps and murmurs ran throughout the church lobby.

The best thing to do was keep calm. Kelam Quincy was already stepping forward, his voice leveled and focused. "It's just a storm, Luna. These things happen."

Among the other exclamations and unintelligible words, Brielle heard rustling beside her, then a click, then a flash. A pocket of light suddenly illuminated their small circle of the sanctuary, and she turned to see stone faced Iridia holding a small flashlight. "What? I'm prepared."

"Has anyone seen Shreeavara?" Kelam called to the assembly. "We should ask her if we can light some candles."

Quincy was once more taking the podium, leading the people. A month ago, Brielle would have been annoyed. As it was... thunder was still menacing the church roof. The ceramic serving dishes clinked together, shaken by the powerful noise. Meanwhile, the sounds that could normally be heard in a building—the heating, the water, even the miniscule hum of the incandescents—had all been silenced.

It was eerie. Luna was still weeping about divine punishment. Not so long ago, Kelam had saved them both from the wrath of Mr. Gulliver. Brielle had been powerless then, but she couldn't allow that to happen a second time. Not in front of a Quincy! But especially not in front of Kelam.

"I'll help you," she announced, and pushed her way over to where Kelam was standing. "What are the items we need?"

He turned to her. Brielle could see the barest gleam of his eyes. "Candles, and ideally a lighter but matches would suffice."

"If there's a breaker, I can reset it." Iridia stated. "Or a—"

"It's an old building." Shreeavara popped beside Iridia, having obviously noticed the initial light. "I can get some temporary lighting, but I do believe there's a really old backup generator somewhere in the attic that could probably be repaired. The stairs are in the northwest corner, over there." She pointed. "I can't guarantee it's the most stable of areas to work in; no one's been up there for years. Are you confident you'd be able to fix it if you reached it?"

Iridia shrugged. "If I can get up there, I'm sure I can work it out. I'm good with this stuff."

A few people had pulled out their phones to use their flashlights, and in the still dim lighting, Brielle could see a small smile on Kelam's face watching Iridia speak. He saw Brielle looking and immediately dropped the expression, cleared his throat, and turned away to address the crowd. "We're going to work on getting the power back up. I would suggest that the rest of you follow Shreeavara."

Brielle expected Shreeavara to be disappointed by the turn of events—if it had been her party, Brielle would have already pronounced it ruined. Instead, the cheerleader bounced next to her, grinning. "This is so exciting!" she said. "Everyone, come with me!"

Kelam was making his way across the church, and Brielle caught up with him. He didn't look at her, but spoke with an amused tone. "You can't even let a Quincy have this, can you?"

"It's not like that," said Brielle, defensively. "Besides, you've already taken several chances to save us before." They reached the staircase, accessible through a simple door with a small window. Much like the rest of the church, it was plain but orderly, the white paint in good condition. It wound upwards in tight squares.

"So this is a means of giving back?" said Kelam. "Your way of clearing your perceived debts?"

Brielle set her jaw. "It's my way of helping, Kelam." She said it to make him feel guilty, and, indeed, his expression seemed contrite. She was not about to acknowledge the fact that he was correct. Brielle didn't like the fact that he had stood up for her. She hated remembering the way he had stood between her and Smiley: his fearless posture, the sharp lines of his jacket on his shoulders, the way her heart had quickened—