Demon kissed: demon kissed

Chapter 20

That night, I finished my homework, and jumped in the shower. Letting the scalding water beat down on me, I thought about what Al said. You need both of them. She wouldn't tell me who the other person was, but I knew that Eric had to help. If he didn't, it would be bad. While it was hard to accept Al not telling me who the other person was, I did understand her reasoning. During my Seyer lessons she revealed the importance of not telling the person who was in the vision too much information. If too much was revealed before the vision came to fruition an alternate future could happen—one no one saw. Seyers had the horrible job of choosing which visions to derail, and which to allow to progress. Right now, Al said I was too inexperienced to make those choices, but given the chance, I would derail my prophecy in a heartbeat.

As for Eric, I wanted to believe that he wouldn't destroy me. It made no sense for him to rescue me then, and slay me now. I didn't know what to think of him. I owed him my life. There was no way around it no matter how much I hated it. The debt made me feel trapped, because there was no way to repay him. It would linger forever... or until I told him what I was.

At the first crack of dawn, I got dressed. The house was still quiet. I padded down the stairs to the kitchen with a fist full of trash. Sifting through the papers, I found what I was looking for. It said CLASS TRIP on it. They were going to Albany, New York for a week to tour the state capital. A multi-hour, multi-day school trip—on a yellow school bus? No, thank you. The orange flyer crumpled in my fist, and I extended my arm over the trashcan. But, I hesitated before dropping it in.

My mom appeared behind me, and snatched it out of my hand. "What's this, Ivy?" she asked. As soon as she saw what it was she squealed, "Ivy! You can't throw this out!" She was fully dressed, and alert. She looked at me like I was nuts for not wanting to go.

The flyer was a reminder to pay for the trip so I could go—tomorrow night. The school needed the permission slip signed and returned, today. I bristled, knowing it was going to be a fight, "I don't want to go, Mom." Besides, if I left my house then I wouldn't have the wards to protect me. I couldn't go even if I wanted to, but I couldn't tell her that.

"How can you not want to go?" Mom asked, standing in front of me. "It's a seven day trip. And it fulfills your history assignment." She paused, hand on hip, and looked at me, "You'd really rather write a fifteen-page paper about the state of New York? Did you write it already? It's due tomorrow, if you skip the trip."

I sighed. The paper. Crap. I forgot to write the paper. "No, I didn't write it." Sensing that I already lost this battle, I gave in. I'd have to make sure Eric could come with me. I couldn't just disappear for a week. "Fine, I'll go. I need the money and the slip."

Mom smiled at me. Her cheeks were rosy. "You'll love this Ivy. They are going to theatre shaped like an egg. You'll get to see backstage too. I know that's only a small part of the trip, but that alone makes it worthwhile." Mom grabbed her purse, and took out some cash and a pen. She signed her perfectly scripted signature (that was impossible to forge) and crushed the cash into my hands. "Here is some extra to get yourself some snacks and souvenirs."

"Thanks Mom," I said.

Since I was officially the last student to turn in my permission slip, I had to walk it down to the office. I swung open the office door, and walked up to the counter. It was oblong, painted the unhappiest shade of yellow in existence. A honey-colored wooden swinging half-door was at the end of the counter. It held the secretaries in their pen, like zebras at the zoo. The women worked at their industrial gray desks, and ignored me. I walked over to the counter. The office was slatted in mid-morning sun as it shone through dusty metal blinds. The room smelled of musty cinder blocks and Xerox machines. I slapped my permission slip on the counter. The change in the envelope jingled, as it hit the blanched wood. I sighed, waiting to be acknowledged.