Emily's Heart

Chapter 1 - Emily's POV

1  When Pigs Fly 

Emily

The pounding in my skull wouldn’t stop. I pulled the blanket up and buried my head under the pillow as if that could drown out the sound of guilt that rattled around inside me.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

I bolted upright in bed. That wasn’t the sound of guilt. Someone was at the door.

BANG, BANG.

I glanced at the clock. 7:30 a.m. I’m going to be late for school again. Not that it mattered much.

My dad wasn’t the only one whose aura was riddled with black spots. A year after we’d been upchucked out of the Umbra Perdita, most people had auras peppered with dark smudges. The pockmarked auras revealed the inner battle people fought against the Dark Energy that pelted down on them like black rain made of pure evil.

A black rain that I had caused. Every day, as I watched the auras around me turn ever darker, I was reminded of my part in unleashing this Apocalypse of darkness. Every day I tried to find a way to put the genie back in the bottle and get Brighid, the Goddess of Lucent Energy, out of Ciardha’s Dark Energy prison.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

Most of the teachers at Wheaton High sported auras riddled with black spots. Some even had eyes that had turned black and were devoid of light. Eyes a lot like Ciardha’s. The black-eyed teachers were as likely to reward bad behavior as punish it. Maybe being tardy was the best thing I could do to fly below the radar.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Who’s at my door at this hour? My dad left for work by 7:00, so I was alone in the house. Before our horrifying journey to the Umbra Perdita, Fanny would come over and we’d walk to school together. But Fanny was gone, still trapped in that awful dimension of acrid air and nightmares. Still lost to me. And since we’d come back from the Umbra Perdita, Jake had made himself disappear. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost a year.

BANG, BANG.

If it were someone looking to loot the house – or worse – they wouldn’t knock. Whoever it was, they weren’t going to go away. Who would come to see me? I was curious, but my heart pounded fast in my chest, and I felt sweat in my pits. There was no such thing as a social call anymore.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Stop beating my door down already!”

I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans that lie on the floor (semi-clean), and stuffed my head through a sweatshirt (sniff test – barely passed) over my tank.

I tiptoed down the creaky, wood stairs. I walked as quietly as I could across the foyer and grabbed the baseball bat I kept by the front door. Just in case.

I tried to catch a glimpse of who was outside through the glass at the top of the door. But the glass was that bubbly, worthless, decorative glass. All I could see was a human-shaped blob. It could be anybody.

Why don’t we have a peephole?

“Who is it?” I yelled.

“Greta.”

Greta? What the hell is Greta Hoffman doing at my door? If Greta had lowered herself enough to make a trip to my house, chances were she hadn’t come over for a friendly girl-to-girl chat.

I gripped the bat tightly and took up a fighting stance, evenly balanced between both feet. I unlocked the dead bolts, then the chain. I flung the door open as I stood back, ready to swing if it wasn’t really Greta or if she’d decided to come kick my ass.