Trinity High (Book 1 of the Trinity Series)

Chapter 16

"Are you ready?" a man's calm, soothing voice asked.

"I am ready," a beautiful blonde girl with astonishing amber eyes replied.

The beautiful blonde looked around her at the crowd of hooded figures below the rised platform. She herself was wearing a robe of the deepest red there was. It reminded her so much of blood.

The figure that had spoken before began chanting an incantation, words that she did not understand. The blonde furrowed her brows, trying to decipher the words. Latin. It was Latin.

A movement from the side of the platform caught her attention. She turned her head to see another hooded figure, wearing robes of dark forest green. This figure was carrying a heavy looking wooden box that had engravings on it. In the background, the man was still chanting.

As he continued his incantation, the hooded figure with the box approached more closely. The man speaking Latin opened the box to reveal a shiny and sharp jagged-edged dagger that had a stain-glass handle.

The girl gasped, jumping back slightly, but she was pushed forward towards the man again by unseen strangers. The man continued his incantation. As he spoke and lifted the dagger out of its box, he grabbed a hold of the girl's wrist. His fingers were pale and cold and the girl pulled in a sharp breath. What was going on?

He lifted the dagger and the girl thought the worst. She was going to die right here.

But no. The man didn't kill her. He removed his grasp from the girl's wrist and then held his own arm out, palm up. He clenched his hand into a fist and with a great slash, cut his wrist. A line of dark red blood began oozing from the clean dash.

The girl stared at the man, horrified. And then, the green robed figure took hold of her hand. Whoever it was was wearing black gloves to cover their hands. The person held out her wrist to the man chanting. The man held the dagger up, the words of his incantation speeding up. And then he held the dagger near the girl's wrist. She could feel the cold of the blade that had just cut through the own man's skin. The girl's face had become pale, her spectacular eyes dimming immediately and becoming almost hollow in terror.

And then she screamed.

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I woke up screaming, my body covered in a cold sweat, my hair a tangled mess. I clutched my throat, breathing hard.

What the hell was that dream?

Or not a dream; rather a nightmare.

My father came rushing into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, bursting through the door, the lights turning on as if automatically. His hair was disshevled, but his face was alert. I looked at him, slightly surprised he came running in so fast.

"Nothing. I just had a bad dream," I told him, trying to calm my nerves down. The look of pure terror on the face of the beautiful blonde girl seemed to be permanently tattooed on my eyeballs.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still tense.

"Yes, I'm fine, Dad," I replied. He hesitated and then relaxed his stance.

"All right, then. Go back to sleep. And no more ice cream before bed," he told me, walking out of the room and shutting the light off with a flick of his hand.

As darkness fell over me, I closed my eyes. I gasped as the girl's face flashed into my mind and then opened my eyes again.

I knew her. I knew her well. But at the same time, I didn't know. I knew it was someone I recognized. But who? Who was she?