Page 73 of Shadows in Bloom

The response is felt more than seen—a phantom push against the roof of my tongue. A low whistle between my teeth. “Yesssssssss.”

“Did you follow me?” Again, the words tumble out of Winifred in a rush, giving me the impression she didn’t mean to say anything.

Lips pursed, misplaced rage making my vision quiver, I study her for a long moment, before slowly shaking my head. “No. I didn’t.”

Clearly not believing me, she huffs a short, caustic laugh that belies her usual docile, reserved demeanor. “Now who’s lying?”

My eyes widen, and I open my mouth to insist I’m not, and demand she stop being such an insufferable, thick-headed brat?—

But I never get the chance.

The bell rings, and rather than try to force her to talk to me here, I grab my things and shove out of my seat, bolting for the door.

I can feel myself unraveling, and the thing in my head might as well be doing a jig, stomping its hooves against the backs of my eyes.

My vision blackens around the edges.

Everything gets wobbly.

You promised! I seethe silently.

My words are met with an inhuman cackle that sends chills skittering down my spine.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

CHAPTER 3

WINIFRED CHAPEL

Much to my frustration, Sister Christine is less than accommodating when I approach her with my plight after class.

While her eyes do at least fill with some sympathy…the rest of her remains as cold and aloof as always. Save for that one time three years ago, when she found me crying in the B hall corridor when I was supposed to be at lunch, and took me to her office to chat.

And not unlike what she told me back then, she says again now, “You know the Lord works in mysterious ways when it comes to His grand design, Miss Chapel.” She doesn’t take her attention away from the papers scattered around her desk as she goes on. “What He lays out for us is never for naught. And nor does He give us more than He knows we can bear. So long as you don’t veer from Him, and keep Jesus in your heart always, you shall endure anything thrown your way.”

In other words…this is a test.

I try not to feel bitter about it. If anything, this is a good thing, and I know I should be grateful. For it has to be a sign that my prayers and penance are not going ignored; that He finally thinks I’m ready—strong enough—to confront what led me astray three years ago, and prove my unwavering deference to God’s plan. My divine purpose.

Sending up a silent prayer—Lord, grant me strength—I make my way out of the classroom, and cut a sharp left, heading for the stairwell at the end of the hallway. History is next, according to my schedule. Second floor.

On autopilot, I hasten my steps, not wanting to risk being late again. Hopefully this time, Trinity saves me a seat. Why she didn’t in homeroom, I have no idea. Perhaps to teach me a lesson.

Well, lesson learned.

Remembering how I got myself into this predicament, I adjust my grip on my books, careful as I check to ensure my sleeve is covering my hand.

It still tingles, but at least it no longer burns like it was minutes ago.

“Stalking me, little bunny?”

My neck heats at the silken echo of her words, my chest squeezing at the memory of all that it conjured up.

So caught up in trying to shove them back to where they came from?—

Days spent as girls frolicking and playing make-believe in the woods and along the rocky beaches, weaving crowns made of the white baby’s breath that grows rampant along the grassy dunes. Recreating the fanciful stories from our favorite stories…

Long summer afternoons spent laying in the swaying tall grass, watching the clouds gather and take shape against slate skies that could never quite turn blue…

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