Ghosts, Ghouls, and High School Fools

Ghosts, Ghouls, and High School Fools [13]

By the time I had recovered enough to return to school, I had missed a lot. I've never missed this much school in my entire life.

I walk in, and immediately don't recognize anything written on the boards. Great.

"Ahh! Quinn! I'm glad to see you're back and healthy again!" my teacher smiles brightly at me. I try to pull my lips into a smile, but I think I grimace.

"Great to be back." Not really.

The rest of the day follows this pattern, that is until lunch. Now, I hadn't seen Jonathon-crazy-pants all day, which I found strange since he's suddenly become pretty important, with the curses and demons and all. But, then I spot him sitting by himself in the courtyard. Oh, he is going to get it.

I drop my tray onto the table and he looks up quickly.

"Oh...it's you," he frowns.

I have to pause to take a calming breath. "Do you have any idea what's been happening to me?" I plop down at the table, fixing a very determined, yet nasty look on him.

"Gee, I don't know, trying to get your brain to comprehend all the schoolwork you've missed?" He dismisses my glare and pops open his milk carton open.

Must resist the urge to resort to violence...must resist. "Do you know WHY I missed school?"

"You felt like skipping."

"Not even close," I hiss, "I missed school because I was recovering in the hospital from a stab wound that your psychotic and demonic ancestor felt like bestowing upon me!"

Well, that got his attention.

"Wh-what?" he looks up, startled. He drops his milk carton and I gleefully watch as it splatters all over him. He curses and grabs a napkin off my tray. Theif...

"Yeah. I had this freaky dream where he threatened me, then I threatened him, and then he stabbed me. And, what do you know, I wake up with a knife twisted in my intestines!" At this point, I'm standing, hands smacked against the table, and a deadly glare and sneer marring my face.

"Are...are you serious?" he actually pales.

Grimly, I lift an eyebrow and pull up the edge of my shirt, exposing the wound.

"Okay...you're serious," he rubs his face with his hands, "It doesn't make sense though. Vikter shouldn't be able to cross into our world."

"Well, he can and he did. Now, let's do something about it!" I slam my fist on the table. No one stabs me and gets away with it.

"What do you propose we do? Go up to him and ask nicely?" Jonathon rolls his eyes angrily.

"I suggest we turn him into goo and smear him down a toilet."

Jonathon doesn't say anything, he just looks at me like I'm a loony. I could be loony. I wouldn't knock out that possibility. Loonies are often in the loony house for seeing ghosts.

I'm feeling awkward so I change the conversation a tiny bit. "Do you know where he is? Where I sealed him?"

"Woah, wait, where YOU sealed him?" he scoffs, "My mother sealed him. She was the only one powerful enough to do it."

I sigh, "Didn't your mother tell you anything? Remember when I passed out at the tree?"

He nods.

"Your mother pulled me back in time."

He jerks, like something shocked him, "What? Why would she do that?"

"She said," I bite my lip, trying to remember, "She said something about how I had to know you, how I had to meet your before...before the night Vikter was loose."

"How do you know about that night?"

"What did I just tell you? Your mom sucked me into the past. You probably remember me."

He leans forward, scrutinizing me. "Actually...you look faintly familiar."

I think I'm going to stop there. I don't think he needs to remember that he kissed me.

"What else do you remember of that night?"

He breathes deeply, closing his eyes. "It's hazy...sometimes I remember a lot, sometimes I remember nothing."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" I push.

"I remember...I was lying in bed, and the room got really dark and cold. A chill ran down my back."

"That usually means there's a ghost. Just saying," I blush after he tosses me a look, "That's what happens to me, rather frequently."

He ignores me and continues. "I remember feeling cold, colder than I thought possible. It was like daggers. I think I lost consciousness. I felt like I was floating, but I couldn't move my arms or legs. I struggled, and as I did I heard a voice in my head."

"Vikter."

He nods somberly. "He announced it, bragging, like I should just give up because it was him."

"His head is so inflated," I mutter. He acted like that to me, too, claiming to be the most powerful, blah, blah, blah.

"It was then that I knew that the family legends were true."

"Legends? What legends?" I would have been great to know about these legends, Jonathon, when you were giving me a lesson on your family history with that stupid book that liked to spontaneously combust.

"There's this legends about Vikter and his curse."

"Oh, the one that was supposed to make him immortal?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" he eyes me. I guess his family is usually a private matter.

"You kind of showed me that book when I was time traveling and told me about your family's history," I look away.

He just sighs again, like I'm such a burden to be around. "Then you know how my family had a history of witchcraft."

"Yep."

"My mother was a witch, one of the most powerful that ever came from my line. I had inherited the gene, but I wasn't as strong as my mother. I was still considered strong, though, because over the years the Tridesci blood became diluted. Imagine a graph, or a line. For years, it's fairly flat, only a few bumps here and there. Then, imagine it suddenly spikes rapidly. That's what Vikter saw."

Didn't his mom mention something about Vikter choosing him?

"He chose you for something, right? Because you were strong?"

He crushes his trash into a lump on his lunch tray. I had totally forgotten we were even at lunch. I should probably eat something.

"The curse Vikter used was supposed to put a little of his soul in every future Tridesci. I told you this, yes?"

"Yeah, but no more than that."

He nods grimly. "What it really did was give him access to the minds of Tridesci descendents. That way, when he decided the time was right, he could break into their heads, possess them, and continue his witchcraft." Jonathon's hands clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white. A wave of sympathy washed over me as I realized that Jonathon knew exactly what had happened that night.

He knew that Vikter used him to kill everyone.