Chapter Eight
Auditions & Accusations
Thanks to Jerald, my weekend ends up giving me a little relaxation. Sunlight beams in through my bedroom window on Monday morning; stirring me from my imaginary nightmares. A real nightmare will happen in two hours. The audition. I would rather be lost in the woods again. Even kissing Herald, as repulsive as he is, would be more of an enjoyable task than singing on stage again.
Standing before the wardrobe mirror, I scrutinize my long hair outlining my body like a black veil. Flicking my black hair out of the way, I gather my white hair. The goblins know I can see them, so why hide anymore? The medicine I need to move on from my traumatic past, seems so simple. I need Beautiful Temptation. The idea gives me a bud of hope. Hope to attain true happiness.
I march over to one of my packed boxes and stoop down. My hands are trembling as I open the bent box. Pictures of old friends and my parents, smile in the photographs. The picture of my deceased parents causes a tear to escape. I heave the box away and bust another box open. This holds my barely used perfumes I adored before the accident. I shuffle through trinkets, lotions, and then squint at the bottom of the box. “Wicked luck.” Picking up the hair-color remover kit, I abandon the disorganized box. As I amble into the bathroom, I pray that Herald’s lust for me will vanish once I become Beautiful Temptation.
I take my time to bleach out the silky blackness. After internal arguing, I decide to take out my plum contacts. Beautiful lime-green eyes blink out of the mirror. I return to the bath and rinse out the chemical scent. Once all the black dye trickles down the drain so only my white hair remains, I wrap my hair up in a towel, and exit the bathroom. Grasping the wardrobe knob with my newly polished French-tipped nails, I yank the doors open. The wine-colored opera dress from the tragic night last Halloween glitters. Brushing my fingertips across the fabrics hanging up, I halt at a bubblegum pink skirt with a distinct India print bordering the hem. With my help, it slides off the hanger, and into my awaiting hands. The towel slides from my body and I toss it in a corner. Pulling on a pair of panties, bra, and the skirt, I select a golden shirt to compliment the skirt. Satisfied with my reflection, I return to the bathroom to finish putting on my make-up and drying my new hair.
There are certain things I realize I do not want to change. I really love the henna tattoos and the bindi tattoo on my forehead. With my white hair and green eyes from my father’s side, and tan skin from my mother’s side, I retain a strange beauty. I understand it is okay to have an edge – to become a mixture of Dark and Beautiful Temptation.
Thirty minutes later, I skip down the stairs and enter the kitchen.
“It’s about time Tempta–” Aunt Sally’s mouth drops in shock. “–tion.”
“You look wonderful, Sweetheart!” Uncle Jack says from the breakfast table. “You’re the old Temptation I’ve been missing. O’course you didn’t used to wear the tattoos, but at least there’s some color back in your life.”
“Oh!” Aunt Sally nearly pounces on me, breaking down into sobs on my shoulder. “We can finally start being a normal family.”
“Thank God,” Daniel says from the table. “It’s about time you did something with your skunk-colored hair–”
“Daniel.” Uncle Jack frowns at his son.
I am happy I made the change, but now reality hits. It hits hard. Normal. They want me to forget my parents. Pretend everything is fine.
“Sit down and eat. You need to be ready for your audition.” Aunt Sally scurries around the kitchen.
The welcoming scent of coffee fills my nostrils. “But how did you know about the auditions?”
“Everyone in town can’t shut up about it, with you being an award-winning singer; you shouldn’t have a hard time.”
“Now, Dear. The Blares’ daughter is pretty good from what I’ve heard–”
“What are you going to sing?” Nathaniel asks. A glob of purplish jelly outlines his mouth.
“I-I haven’t decided yet. I might go with one I wrote.” I prod my eggs around my Greek-printed plate. I do not feel like eating.
Aunt Sally sets a mug of hot coffee down in front of me.
I smile and take a sip of the warm liquid. It used to be a routine of mine to have coffee every morning before rehearsals. For a moment, I allow myself the fantasy of my parents’ encouraging me for my tryouts.
Thirty minutes later, I arrive at school. No students roam the grounds of the high school because they are assembling to watch the tryouts for the Mask Ball’s lead singer. A deep breath and I exit the car. Every breath I create expels more and more of my courage. My emotions are becoming more hollow, the closer I march to the school auditorium. Out of the building echoes a beautiful voice singing a choir song.
I descend through the doors and enter the packed auditorium. A girl vacates the stage with a light flush on her pimpled cheeks. Victoria sashays to the lighted podium. The band behind her strikes a pop-style song and she starts to sing.
Crap, she is good.
Really good.
Across the crowd, Whelan cheers Victoria on from the first row, while the Jenkins twins look mildly interested from the side of the room.
“Temptation! There you are. I barely recognize you with white hair.” Mrs. Peters snatches my elbow. “Follow me to the side of the stage; everyone’s been waiting for you!”
Part of my arm goes numb from Mrs. Peters' grasp. The old woman kills the stereotype of frailty and weakness. “I haven’t figured out what I’m going to sing yet–”
“Sing the song you were singing at the opera house.” Mrs. Peters stops at the stairs leading to the stage.
I pause. “You mean, Alice Demented? I don’t know if it’s a good id–”
“Nonsense, Dearie. The house band already knows the basic tune. They’ll follow along with you when you play the piano.”
“How could they? No one knows my song, but you.”
Mrs. Peters barks out a few orders to the stage help, ignoring my inquisitive stare. Victoria ends and the crowd cheers. My joints stiffen.
Mrs. Peters grabs my schoolbag from me. “You’re up, Dearie. Knock ‘em dead!”
I try to force a smile, but the muscles in my face freeze. The faces of my parents flash before my eyes, making my throat constrict. I climb the stairs and enter the brightly lit stage. Shocked whispers break out across the auditorium as soon as the spotlight illuminates my face. One nice thing about those bright lights is I cannot see the crowd. The piano’s ivory keys shine a variety of colors from the stage lights. I take a seat on the polished bench. Fingers bent on the colorless keys, I exhale, and begin the mournful tune to Alice Demented. The band picks up the tune and, for the first time, my song comes to life.
“Alice is so sweet and true;
Dressed up in both white and blue.
She takes some pills to make her dream,
While still awake or so it seems.”
Memories begin to swirl…downing the pills until sweet sleep comforts me. Then red lights are mesmerizing me. So many red lights are flashing and screaming into my soul and mixing with the cries of the medics.
The music pauses for three seconds and then the drums and electric guitar create a loud dooming rock melody which intensifies my opera vocal style.
“Save her if you can,
In darkness, she fades.
Alice in wonderland,
She dreams away.
She’s shackled in these chains,
She can’t escape.
Short life at hand,
The pills are laced.”
The past voice of Uncle Jack still haunts my memory. “How could you, Temptation? It’s a miracle you survived death the first time, but a second time! I’ve lost my brother and sister-in-law, why would you make me go through losing you, again?”
The music calms again, morphing into a depressing lullaby.
“Creatures around her begin t
o move,
Gazing ravenously at her, too.
They make such gruesome, gibberish talk,
As they move near her to stalk.”
Terrifying creatures latch onto my ankles and drag me from the car as it bursts into flames. I am dead for five minutes.
The pounding drums match my heartbeats.
“Save her if you can,
In darkness, she fades.”
I continue with the chorus, oblivious to the deathly silence in the auditorium. A past memory emerges in the shape of my parents, when the doctors cannot revive them.
“Alice shrieks into the night,
Fleeing from that fearful sight.
With raging eyes and gleaming fangs,
The white rabbit times their fun and games.”
“Time of death, eight-forty-five,” the doctor in the pristine white coat says, and the little goblin gripping his scrub-pants grins. I cannot take it.
My voice and the music intensify as I hit the climax of the song.
“Follow me,
Until you see,
This twisted life of reality.
All that’s real,
Is now gone.
Nightmares roam for the deed is done.”
The music slows from a climatic tone into a depressing one. Tears burn my eyes. My parents are gone. Forever.
“The Queen is coming for the dead.
Hurry now or lose your head.
Lost in darkness,
She who dwells–
Longs for death; no more to tell.”
Hot tears roll down my cheeks. For the first time, since the death of my parents, I mourn. My sorrow bleeds through my music.
“Save her if you can,
In darkness, she fades…”
Ending the song, I flinch as the crowd erupts in encoring cheers. My arms fall from the piano and I try to stop the tears. The piano bench shakes as I abandon my seat and rush to the stage exit.
Mrs. Peters calls my name over and over, but I keep running.
Pain never registers in my brain as I slam my body against the metal door, forsaking Rosewood High. I think I hear Daniel’s shouts not to do it again, but I do not care anymore. I thought I could handle the audition. How wrong I had been. Grief consumes my every thought. I desire an ending.
Gray clouds paint the sky, while the wind picks up. My white hair fans out behind me like angel wings.
The theater house is four stories.
It should be tall enough.
I can see the mansion’s towers down the street. No cars block the roads. During the auditions, Rosewood became a ghost town. I cross the street. A roar of motorcycle engines fast approaches me from behind.
The Jenkins twins skid their bikes to a halt in front of the theater house; blocking me from running, any further. Jerald launches himself off his bike and snatches me up into a battling embrace.
“Let me go–” My tears fall on Jerald’s shoulders. “I want to die!”
Jerald does not stop me from beating his chest. Instead, he holds me close, listening to my heartbroken sobs.
I finally given up trying to fight him off and instead, wrap my arms around his shoulders. Aware of his fingers stroking my long hair, I do not mind. My cries soften. My heart does not feel so heavy anymore. My mind no longer suffers to fight back reality.
Herald breaks the silence when a crowd of voices near the theater house. “I’ll go tell them to leave. Mrs. Peters needs to know Temptation will be singing this year.” He swings a leg back over the motorcycle and rides off in the direction of school.
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it again.” I pull my face away from Jerald’s chest. Common sense replaces my jumble of emotions. Mortified at how I just acted in front of the entire school and in front of Jerald, I keep my gaze on the ground. After my show of weakness, I do not know how I am going to stand up to Herald.
Jerald caresses my cheek with one hand and lifts my chin. “You need to let it go, Temptation. Your music is intoxicating. Not even Victoria could make me feel like that.”
I search his glowing violet eyes. My heart flutters. Seeing his beaming face in the daylight with those gorgeous violet eyes amazes me more than the Seven Wonders of the World ever could. “Make you feel like what?”
Jerald grins. “Human. Alive in a way I’ve never been.” He tugs me closer, stroking the white strands of my hair. “In love.”
I do not stop him. I cannot if I tried anyway. His lips crush into mine and a new feeling blooms in my soul, replacing my pain. Hope.
The days go by in peaceful bliss. The jumbled puzzle pieces of my life finally fall into place. Aunt Sally bought me new clothes to replace most of the India-print clothing I wear. I do not mind, but a part of me misses Dark Temptation.
Class is strange on Thursday. Victoria picks a fight with Herald. It does not end well. Victoria now disappears from school periodically. The twins do not show any concern and they instruct me not worry either. I listen to their suggestion. I had forgotten how nice it is to be accepted. Popular.
Whelan almost kisses me when he finds out Victoria is single. He does not stand a chance with Victoria, but I cannot convince him otherwise, so I drop the subject.
The goblins vanish from my reality. Literally. I investigate the log huts and try to discover a secret tunnel. Nothing. Even when I traveled to the rock wall one weekend, no bronze bodies are visible. I am beginning to wonder if I have been imagining them to deal with my parents’ passing. It saddens me a little.
Karma is happy for me, though she still insists the monster are real, but does not know how to explain their sudden disappearance either. She is worried about Jerald. She does not trust him. I try to question him about the goblins, but lose every time his hands touch me. I love the electrical shock under my skin as he breathes across the arch on my shoulder.
On October 31st, the bell signals the end of the last class period. The intercom comes on and the principal’s voice echoes throughout the halls of Rosewood High. “Happy Halloween, everyone! Don’t forget our annual Halloween Mask Ball is tonight at nine, at the old theater house. For you newer students, who don’t know where it is; get with the counselor before going home today. Temptation Falls will be our lead singer this evening,” My cheeks burn as I hide my face behind a folder, while ambling through the cheering crowd in the hallway. “And the carnival will start at seven. This is a community event and everyone will be attending the Ball, so be there. Have a wonderful holiday!” The intercom turns off.
Whelan drapes his freckled arm around me. “Hey, I really owe you one for getting Victoria away from those twins.”
“You mean...you’ve seen her recently? She’s been missing from school for two days.” I bump the school doors open. Whelan and I descend the stairs, and saunter toward the buses.
“Yeah, like–” Whelan starts counting his fingers with his free hand. “–four hours ago. She said she has no hard feelings toward you and she’ll be coming to the ball with me tonight! Totally lucked out, huh?”
Ever since Victoria’s vanishing, I have suspected foul play. “I guess.”
“Hippie!”
Whelan and I swivel to face the school. The Jenkins twins sprint down the stairs.
“I think your boyfriends–”
I punch him playfully on his side.
“Okay, boyfriend is getting jealous.” Whelan removes his arm from my shoulders. “Catch ya later on tonight!” He disappears into a bus crowd with gossiping cheerleaders.
“How he can run around in shorts in at the end of October, I will never understand,” I mumble.
Jerald captures my waist and swings me about. Herald stands next to us, staring at the bus.
“What was he doing with his arm around you?”
“Jerald, he’s my friend and has been before we started dating.”
“I don’t like
him,” Herald says.
Herald’s eyes possess a red gleam. “Really guys, he’s into Vic – uh – someone else. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Despite Jerald’s anger, he does not press the matter. “You prepared for the Ball?”
“I’d feel sorry for myself if I wasn’t.”
The buses are almost full.
Jerald tightens his arms on my waist. “You’ll be going to the theater for an hour to practice before the Ball tonight. I’ll take you over there.” He leads me in the direction of the parking lot before I can utter an answer.
I walk, obediently, to the skull motorcycle gleaming in the sunlight. Legs straddling the bike, I slide my palms down Jerald’s chiseled arms and stop at his waist.
A smirk forms in the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to stop, you can keep going.”
In a playful manner, I slap his thigh. “You can keep dreaming, but it’s not happening yet.”
He laughs. Revving up the engine, we take off in the direction of the theater. We remain silent as we pass the yellow buses and travel down the street. Cool air stings my skin. Stopping the motorcycle next to the theater, he helps me off, kisses me, and says, “Stay inside until you’re ready to go and don’t leave for home alone.” The twins aim their bikes back to town, abandoning me with the echo of their exhaust.
“What’s their problem?” I voice to the empty street.
The strangest feeling comes over me, as I enter the theater. At the top of the balcony, I stare at the closed doors along the corridors. I never investigated the rooms in the theater. The door closest to me is ajar. Taking the opportunity, I peer inside. An elegant bedroom reflects out of my eyes.
A hand clamps down on me.
“Mrs. Peters, you nearly scared me to death!”
“Sorry, Dearie, but what’re you doing?” Mrs. Peters removes her withered hand.
“I wanted to know what’s in these other areas of the theater. Didn’t know they were bedrooms.” A little ashamed of my curiosity, I twist the ends of my white hair.
“Not all are bedrooms and it’s perfectly fine if you want to explore the theater. I think you’ll find a particular room interesting. Try going all the way down this hallway. Turn right and keep following that hallway, until you come to the last door. In that room holds some of the most extraordinary artifacts collected in Rosewood.”
“Are you sure it’s okay? I won’t be breaking any rules, will I?”
Mrs. Peters smiles. “Nonsense, it’s our history. You have a duty to be curious. Go on.”
“But I still have to rehearse–”
“Temptation, if you do anymore rehearsing, you’ll have no voice left! Off you go.”
Thankful for a new adventure, I do a little jog down the hallway. The wallpaper reflects a Victorian edge like most things in Rosewood. The deep red makes the hallway appear small and narrow. The theater creaks. The unmistakable sound of wings is coming from the shadowy corners of the ceiling. Probably bats. The corridor ends up ahead with a door.
I ease it open and then pat the wall before I finally find the small bump. Light makes the room burst into life.
It reflects similarities to the Goblin King’s room. However, it smells like.… I stare at a painting on the wall. The man in the portrait looks like Jerald, but stranger. His black and orange hair, along with swirling crimson-violet eyes stirs only one word in my thoughts.
Demented.
It is not a pleasant portrait. He acts as if he will pounce out of the frame and attack the observer. I hate those teeth. “Freaky.”
A bulky book on a podium stands on the other side of the room. I wander over and pick it up. The book smells of mold and decay. No denying it dates back at least 100 years. I carefully flip through the discolored pages. It is a weird record of some kind. I stop and stroke one of the crisp pages. Most of the dates are marked on Halloween. Skimming through the book, I realize it goes back to at least a century ago. “Wow, those two are ancient. Why doesn’t the townspeople notice the twins never age?”
All the way to the end of the book, I find last year’s date. My parents’ faces swim into my mind. The log indicates five new members to Rosewood and two new recruits. It also documents twenty-five deaths. I frown. Written in wispy cursive next to this year’s date, are the words, “Soon we will be free.” Long strands of white hair outline my face and define my bone structure. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we won’t be isolated in Rosewood any longer.”
I swivel, almost knocking over the podium along with the journal. Herald leans against the scratched door in his demon form. His muscular arms crossed over his chest. I ask, “You mean...you can’t leave Rosewood?”
Herald unhitches himself from the doorway and stalks me in a predatory manner. “No. I can’t. Only humans, who I allow to leave Rosewood to recruit more people, can travel outside of Rosewood. It’s the one thing the Goblin King did that I didn’t foresee. I made the forest his prison and he made Rosewood, my prison.” He runs a pale finger across my jaw.
I attempt to walk past Herald, but he shoves me back on the bed. “Wait–”
Herald pins me down. His glowing red eyes never blink. Not once. “I told you, Temptation, you couldn’t say ‘no’ forever.” He strokes my metal necklace and chuckles. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m dating Jerald, not you.” This vital piece of information does not seem to bother him. Maybe I can use the situation to my advantage. “Why are you in your demon form?” Reaching up, I caress his fiery hair.
“It’s Halloween. I can be myself. But you need to get changed.” He trails his hand down my thigh.
I grab his pale hand. “I don’t need help dressing or undressing, thank you.” I slink out from underneath him and hop off the bed. “And you never finished answering my question. How are you going to leave Rosewood?”
Herald reclines against his arms on the bed. “There’s a specific date when other worlds will…open. Unfortunately, this means the Goblin King will be released, too. Imagine the kind of horrors he would present to the rest of the world after imprisonment for a hundred and fifty years. I want him dead, but I can’t get close enough to do it.”
“How can you capture him, but not kill him?”
“Easy. I put a spell on the rock wall in the woods and when he, along with those nasty goblins, chased me, they ran right into my trap. All I had to do was hop over the wall and I was safe. The spell drained the Goblin King of his power. I keep his magic guarded. No one can get to it except me. But I can’t get close enough to kill the king. I would use Victoria, but she doesn’t have the gift for it. I need someone who can.” He stares me dead in the eye.
“Wha–” Taking a few steps back, I stumble and almost fall to the floor. “Oh, no. No, I can’t kill – I won’t kill him!”
Herald’s brow ripples into a furious arch. Before I can fully register his actions, he grabs my throat. “You will kill him or your family will die, and not by me! If he’s free, he’ll take vengeance out on anyone who didn’t help him. I can only protect you. Either way, I’ll not lose you!” My heart burns. “When were you planning on telling me this?”
“Tonight. But it seems like you couldn’t wait to see my bedroom.” His personality changes in a flash.
I wonder if he is bipolar or has multiple personality disorder. Either way, mixing it with his psychopathic tendencies and he is still a nightmare. “I didn’t know you lived here and what exactly do you think will kill him?”
He unveils a glowing crystal. “This is identical to what the king is searching for, but it’s filled with my blood. If he ingests this, he’ll die. Without his magic, his body won’t be able to tolerate it. It’ll slowly poison him to death.” He presses it into my sweaty palm. “After you sing at the Ball tonight…kill him. Make him believe you’re there to save him.”
I study my crimson reflection in the crystal. “I’m not making a
ny promises. I need to get home.”
Herald kisses my fingers.
The cliché act softens me to my despair. I loathe my weakness for the corny romantic move.
“I’ll take you home.”
We vacate the room, but my heart – once again – feels hard.