Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 8

Damon must have chowed down on a buffet of whatever vampires feast on, because his brain was clearly out cold.

Honestly, how does anyone think hunting down the source of a cursed black apple is an adventure? For the record, I, have no interest in sticking my nose into shady business-especially when it involves Nightmares. All I wanted was to toss that apple back to wherever it came from. But Damon decided to play blackmail, and well, he got me. Against my better judgment, I caved in.

Detention was dragging on for eternity. I was itching to grab the apple and bail on the whole crossed-fingers promise nonsense. And Damon-he had the nerve to sit just across the aisle from me, unzipping his bag halfway. It wasn't a formal declaration that the apple was in there, but why else would he keep flashing that smug smirk every time he caught me glancing at his bag?

Meanwhile, Phoebi sat at the front-stuck to the far right wall like a wall-paper, totally oblivious.

Apologizing? That's supposed to be easy, right? Just say "I'm sorry." Yeah, well, not when you're Carmiabell. Phoebi didn't know Damon from a hole in the wall, yet here I was, feeling I owed her an apology. Words weighed a ton, and I'd rather let myself believe Phoebi was the reason I was stuck here in the first place. It was simpler.

My partner-in-crime, Zuina, had to be in the other detention room. No way she'd skip. Sunday night escapades come with consequences, and one of them is a year's worth of detention for, you know, the habitual late arrival.

"Carmia bell," came Monday's sleepy, nasal tone. "Whatever you're staring at in Damon, you can do it after detention."

I swear, the few conscious people left in the room-Pelican and her flock of loudmouths-snickered. Intentionally, no doubt. Who names their daughter Pelican? Her parents must've known she was going to grow a beak. Well, big mouth, anyway.

Just my luck-Pelican had been in some kind of awkward romance-situation with Damon. Well, technically, anyway. To be honest, I prayed every Sunday for their breakup. Realistically, my chances of getting hit by a meteorite were higher than my chances of ever dating him. It was a solid lose-lose.

I threw my eyes back to the open book in front of me, pretending to read a single word. Damon must've heard my groan because he chuckled, relishing the torment.

By the way, how did he know what was in my bag? I didn't want to assume one of my crushes was snooping in my stuff, but how else would he know? Was he... a nightmare? The just thought made my stomach churn.

Millennia later-because yes, detention dragged on that long-it was finally over. I jumped out of my seat, my bag now a tornado of disorderly books.

"Where is it?" I demanded.

Damon zipped his last book into his bag, towering over me with that maddening smirk. "You sure you want it here? Now?"

For a second, my heart went on a full shutdown sequence. I was this close to him, feeling the cedarwood warmth radiating off him, like he was the sun and I was his planets. My brain cells sparkled to life in ways I didn't know they could. Was that... music playing? Did I imagine the world trembling? Was Cupid somewhere back there, sharpening his arrows?

"Shall we?" Damon pulled me out of my daze, gesturing towards the door.

Phoebi shot me a look as she passed, wordlessly reminding me that I owed her that apology.

"The... toilet?" Damon suggested, catching my glare as I swiftly looked away.

"What?"

"I'll give it to you in the toilet." His tone was dead serious, but I didn't dare look at his vampire eyes. A secret meeting in a toilet stall, with Damon, trading a black apple? I could practically see the headline of my expulsion.

"No way." I shook my head.

"Where, then?"

"The bookstore." Yes, technically, it was off-limits after detention, but Zuina could get us in if needed.

The hallways were now a mass of latecomers and assignment skippers as the other detention room emptied. As I'd guessed, Zuina was out there.

°*°

Once we were safely inside the bookstore, Damon closed the door, and Zuina leaned against it, arms crossed. Finally.

"Hand it over," I whispered.

"Not so fast," he replied, flashing me another one of those annoyingly perfect smirks. What was he angling for?

"Now what?"

"I want you to promise you won't go having all the fun without me."

Oh, sure. As if scouring for the origins of an apple that was probably cursed by something snake-like was fun. I wasn't the opportunistic type, but somehow, taking advantage of Damon didn't sit right. That didn't stop Zuina from looking at him like he was under the influence of something not exactly legal.

"What fun?" Zuina cut in, too loudly, her voice echoing against the bookstore's brick walls.

"Tracking down the owner of this apple," I told her.

Zuina looked like she'd rather be taking a calculus test. I mean, she knew all about my colossal crush on Damon, down to the silliest details-like his next game, his seating position, even his lunch choices. Meanwhile, Damon barely noticed I existed.

Through gritted teeth and maybe a hundred internal eye-rolls, I forced myself to nod. "Fine. We'll find the owner. I promise."

Another fingers-crossed promise to a guy who wouldn't give me the time of day. Bravo, Carmiabell. A life of regret awaited, and I was certain Damon's little treasure hunt was going to be on that list.

Damon nodded, grinning in satisfaction.

"Are you insane?" Zuina whispered, her tone tinged with the same suspicion I was starting to feel. Had Damon been possessed?

"Just give me the apple," I said, throwing him a stare.

Damon sighed, slowly reaching into his bag, casting one last surreptitious look at me. For some odd reason, his gaze sent another wave of guilt down to my stomach.

The apple appeared, dark and eerie in his hand. It was surreal seeing it again, nestled in Damon's bag. Pelican and her gossiping crew practically had a timeshare there. But the sight of that apple rekindled a spark in me-half thrill, half dread.

Zuina's jaw dropped, eyes widening to new levels of shock. She looked as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.

"A black apple," she murmured, as if seeing it might turn her lungs to stone. "And I thought I'd seen all the wonders of the world."

Just then, an intruder barged in-a raspy voice echoing through the room, slicing through the silence with the force of a villain.

A giant shadow loomed against the dim bookstore walls, the flicker of candlelight making it dance wildly, like something from a haunted fairytale. The outline was disturbingly animalistic, and a chilling wind whipped through the room, only adding to the growing nightmare.

Just my luck, right? What exactly did I do to deserve this?