Ready for a bit more of Children of the Crystal Blood? This is the rest of Chapter 1 and the third, and final, FREEBIE taster from the book! Next week, I shall be posting a taster from the second book in the Trilogy of Blood and Stone series! As a general rule in life, whenever you ask yourself if things could get worse, they undoubtedly do. This was a lesson that Amberlaine was coming to realise as she sat in Mr Calverton’s cramped classroom. It was a remarkable fact that Mr. Calverton was able to remain completely oblivious to the underlying moods generated by the students in his classroom, as he enthusiastically told the girls how much they would enjoy today’s lesson. None of the young ladies at Saint Mary Immaculate School were impolite enough to groan out loud, but they may as well have done so. The instructor’s beaming smile spoke of his great love for his subject and a practised inability to see what he did not want to see, namely, that none of the girls wanted to find a partner to work with on the delightful activity that he had planned for them. Looking around the room, Amberlaine carried out damage limitation. Like all misfits, she recognised the pool from which she could select a classmate to work with, but did not relish choosing any of them. Elizabeth Smith was probably the nicest of them all, but she would see this action as an overture of friendship, and Amberlaine was strictly against the idea of befriending any of these girls. That left Heidi James and Lucy Sheldon, the only other unpopular, friendless girls in the class. What a great choice, Amberlaine mused to herself, as she tried to choose between stupidity and a bad case of neglected personal hygiene. Rather than facing this dilemma, she decided to buy time with her infallible failsafe. Raising her hand to call over the effervescent Mr. Calverton, Amberlaine asked to be excused from the class with a bathroom pass. Walking as slowly as she could, Amberlaine hoped to miss out on the activity altogether if she could only stretch out these moments of freedom. Of course, it was only later on that Amberlaine realised that she had made her second fatal mistake of the day. As she returned to the Geography classroom noticing that the other girls were all now writing quietly and congratulating herself on the success of her plan, a whisper flew around the class. Mr. Calverton detected this whisper, briefly looking up from behind his desk on the teacher’s podium, but lowered his head once more feeling that the individuals concerned were probably collaborating to find the best answer to the question that he had set them. Amberlaine, however, did not possess his trusting nature and strived to understand what was happening, knowing instinctively that it would not be pleasant and suspecting that, once again, she would be the target. Soon other girls were being pulled into the web of whispers and glances were being shot in her direction. Fortunately this was not a double lesson and she watched the clock knowing that the bell would soon signal her release from the confines of this particular torture. It was as she was putting her books into her most unfashionable rucksack that the onslaught started. “You were gone a long time, Stanton, we were starting to think that you’d fallen down the toilet!” Katie Watson flashed a malicious version of her pretty smile across the room in Amberlaine’s direction. More likely you hoped I’d fallen down the toilet, thought Amberlaine as she tried to formulate a strategy that would allow her to leave the room without the incident escalating into total humiliation. It was, however, too late for any plan to be put into operation. “What was it, Stanton,” taunted Sophie Long, Katie’s second-in-command, “got the squits?” Raucous laughter followed on the heels of this witty remark. “Yeah, I thought there was a bad smell just before she left the room!” Great, they were all joining in like a pack of hyenas, sensing that the victim was weakening. “No, that was just her normal stink,” retorted Katie, raising the stakes and opening the flood gates to a gush of name calling. Amberlaine had packed up all of her books by this time and was eager to leave the room, but in order to do that, she would need to make her way past this baying pack of girls. Thinking quickly, she decided to use shock tactics. Abandoning her usual defensive silence, she turned their words against them. “Well, if I smell so badly, you won’t mind moving out of my way so that I can get past, will you?” For a whole second, Amberlaine thought that she might have found a battle strategy that would allow her to survive, this time. But Katie Watson was not, as mentioned earlier, one to relish defeat. Once the laughter melted from her face, she uttered the unutterable. “No, perhaps it was ‘female problems’ that kept her. What’s the matter, Stanton, on the blob, are you?” This was a low blow, indeed, as Katie had made careful mental note of Amberlaine’s discomfort during a talk given by the school nurse some weeks previously, and saved this decisive ammunition for future use. She knew that Amberlaine would be able to muster no come back to this comment. Clutching her bag in front of her, head down until it almost drooped on her chest, Amberlaine pushed her way past the girls in the doorway, not even stopping to answer Mr. Calverton when he finally thought to intervene. The final lesson of the day was uneventful, perhaps because even Katie’s lust for the destruction of those she despised was satisfied, or perhaps because it was French with Madame Beaumont, a woman who was not lightly crossed. Amberlaine enjoyed moments of respite during this lesson, as Madame Beaumont, having quickly noted that the new girl in the class had no aptitude for her subject and lacked even a rudimentary understanding of the language, ignored her completely. On this particular afternoon, Amberlaine was more grateful than ever for this oversight. With the glorious peals of the final bell still sounding in her ears, Amberlaine left the building as speedily as possible. Marching past groups of girls linked arm-in –arm, happily reunited in friendship, she did not even pause to regret her lack of comrades. Unseeing, she walked past the house of Mr. Henderson, the school’s groundskeeper, and out onto the public pavement, glad to have left the precincts of the school. It was only then that she allowed her pace to slacken, knowing that she was safe; the headmistress would tolerate no besmirching of Saint Mary Immaculate’s fine name, and no student would misbehave off school property whilst wearing the distinctive green uniform for fear of drawing her wrath. She allowed her thoughts to wander, hoping that they would happen upon some memory of a happier time, a time when she was elsewhere. It was with surprise, then, that she turned to see what the girl wanted when she shouted her name. “Oiy, Stanton! Stanton!” Looking back, Amberline saw an older girl, probably in the tenth form, but failed to recognise who she was, her pool of acquaintances being severely limited. Knowing through instinct and experience that the older girls did not like to be kept waiting, she responded promptly. “Yes…um…what do you want with me?” How not to antagonise the girl who could be notorious for all she knew was a major dilemma. “There’s a boy over there, from Saint Peter’s, who wants to talk to you.” Before she could think of a response to this strange message, Amberlaine was saved the bother by an interruption from Katie Watson. Is she following me just waiting to bully me, wondered Amberlaine. “What would a boy, any boy, want with that scrawny, smelly cow?” Asked Katie, her tongue even bolder now that she felt she did not need to pretend to be a Young Lady. It was clear that Katie had no qualms over interrupting the business of a tenth form girl, but this was probably due to the fact that she had a sister in the year above her, one who was also popular, and, of course, also a bully. To Amberlaine it seemed as if fortune had, indeed, smiled upon Katie Watson; she was popular and pretty and, added to these lucky attributes, she had an older sister to look out for her. Life was just peachy for Katie Watson. She knew that Katie expected her not to answer, so she looked across instead in the direction indicated by the older girl, only to see a rather fat boy lounging against the garden wall of one of the houses lining the street. “Oh, well, that explains it,” chirped Katie, “by the look of him he must be Stanton’s boyfriend! Mind, even he could do better than go out with that loser!” Her cruel words were pitched loudly enough to carry to the boy as well as every girl in the vicinity; after all, never waste any opportunity to humiliate, it was sort of a Watson family principle. Looking at the boy, Amberlaine realised two things: she did not know him, had not, in fact, ever seen him before in her life and, secondly, he did not appear to be outwardly affected by this merciless taunting. Amberlaine had to decide whether to trust her instinct and stay away from the strange boy, thereby prolonging the shouts of her audience, or swallow her scruples and go over to him to see what he wanted. Weighing up the situation, she decided that he would be less of a threat to her than the girls were. “What do you want?” She asked the boy as she got to within three feet of him. The answer he gave sounded odd to her, as unusual as it was sudden. “My mother knows the woman that’s looking after you and she says that you should come with me.” His tone was cold, yet urgent. “Who says?” Amberlaine asked, “Your mother or Mrs. Emberson?” “What? I said, didn’t I? My mother says you’ve got to come with me.” He seemed impatient to be gone from the highly visible spot in which they stood, but Amberlaine could understand this sentiment, as she too was aware of the throng of girls still watching the pair of them. “But why do I need to….” “Look,” he interrupted, “the woman who looks after you is ill and my mother has taken her to my house, so you need to come with me.” This sounded plausible, and yet Marilynn Emberson had never mentioned having a friend in the area. In fact, that was the one thing that she and her foster mother had in common; neither of them appeared to have any friends. Still, there seemed to be no reason for the boy to be lying and, judging by the look of resentment on his face, he was certainly not there for the pleasure of her company. Seeing the look of hesitation on her face, the boy took the decision out of her hands by turning on his heel and heading back the way he must have come. Amberlaine had no choice but to follow him. He paid Amberlaine very little attention as he moved swiftly through the streets, twisting his way to a destination unknown to her. “Where did you say we are going?” She was a little concerned at being taken away from her familiar route and felt that she should try to retain some control of the situation. “I told you, to my mother’s house.” His answer was terse, impatient once more. “Yes,” questioned Amberlaine, feeling that he was particularly unintelligent, “but where is that? I mean, which street is it on?” “Look,” he replied, turning briefly to face her, “by the time I’ve explained, we’ll be there. Just follow me, instead.” Her impatience at his uncommunicative nature temporarily distracted her, so it was not until the shadows on the nearby walls lengthened that she noticed that they had turned into an alleyway. Something within her began to stir, her senses honing into a precise point of concentration as she looked at the boy in front of her. A voice in her head told her not to be so silly, that a girl from Saint Mary Immaculate School for Young ladies would not feel concerned in this situation, but another, stronger voice told her that her father’s daughter was never silly. The boy must have sensed a change in her attitude, as he turned to face her. When he stopped moving, she realised that he was confronting her, but she decided to let him make the first move, just in case she was wrong about him. “We aren’t there yet! Why have you stopped?” He demanded. It was clear that he intended to stick to his story of Mrs. Emberson being ill. He looked full into her face before continuing to speak. “Oh, I can see that this little ruse is not going to work on you. Your foster mother is not sick, but she will be sickened when they find your body!” Well, how much more confirmation does a girl need to know that her instincts were right? As he lunged towards her, she side-stepped, putting out her foot and neatly tripping him. Before he could do more than turn to rest on his back, she flung herself down, resting all of her weight on him and pinning him to the floor. For a girl who had been easily knocked to the ground in the changing rooms by Katie Watson, Amberlaine had suddenly become a mighty weight. He struggled to claw his hands towards her face and Amberlaine casually noted that his fingers were crowned with nails more suited to a well-groomed girl; they were long and shapely, gleaming a polished brown in what little light there was in the alleyway. Knowing what he would seek to do with those unusual nails, Amberlaine chose to act quickly. She leaned forward, shifting her weight so that he was securely pinned to the floor, unable to struggle as she lowered her face towards his. Placing her knee on his left elbow, she was able to free up her hand and use it to turn his face away from her. She hated doing this, always had, but knew that it was necessary. Working quickly, she angled his head upwards, making him strain and bare the main vein that pulsed in the side of his neck. She lowered her face further, using the combined strength of her powerful jaws and an iron resolve as she tore the flesh loose. It was all done so quickly that it was barely ten minutes later that she ran back through the street outside the school, putting herself back on track for her usual route home. With a little luck, Mrs. Emberson would not even notice that Amberlaine was a little later than usual in getting home. “Ah, look at the little love bird!” A jeering voice shattered her concentration. As she searched for the source of this interruption, she reminded herself that she was Amberlaine Stanton, a student at Saint Mary Immaculate School for Young Ladies, that she was afraid of Katie Watson and her bullying friends, that she was not to retaliate. “Ah, look! Stanton’s boyfriend’s messed up her lovely hair!” Sophie Long rushed past her, ruffling her disordered hair still further, smirking as she tried to impress Katie with her bravery. “Yeah, he must be a real beast,” replied Katie, “and look, he’s smudged your lipstick, as well!” They all laughed as the gang of girls ran away, bored; to them, mocking Amberlaine’s appearance was nothing new. As the girls passed out of sight, Amberlaine raised a sleeved arm to her mouth, wiping away what remained of the boy’s blood.
Posted on: Fri, 11 Jul 2014 08:46:22 +0000
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