7. VERENA GRAVENHURST
SEVEN
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Somehow, I survived my first week at Hollowcrest Academy. Through the whispers, the daunting stares and the relentless pursuit of one infuriatingly persistent Reed Sullivan, I’m becoming accustomed to what my life could look like over the next several months.
My last lecture of the day dragged on, and when I finally made it off campus, I was in dire need of a hot cup of coffee.
I decided to explore the town, making my first pit stop at a small eatery called Crest Cove Cafe.
Sugary notes waft over me as I step inside.
Freshly brewed coffee, vanilla and nutmeg fill the air.
It’s a cozy space, with black-and-white checkered flooring and multiple booths lining the outer wall, each one filled with customers.
Some are gossiping, sharing baked goods.
Others are students, studying on their laptops while sipping lattes.
My eyes roam the cafe, and sure enough, they land on the furthest booth in the back, where Reed sits slouched in his seat next to his friends.
He’s already staring at me, and when our eyes lock, he fucking winks.
The way he demands attention is stifling.
Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I return my attention to the front counter, ordering myself a cup of coffee with a splash of cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon—to go.
I don’t look back at Reed, but as the door chimes on my exit, I can still feel his stare burning into the back of my skull.
I exhale a breath and watch it dissipate into the air in front of me before taking a sip of my hot beverage.
It warms my insides, melting all of the stress from my body.
It’s overcast today, the sun completely hidden by heavy clouds, but that doesn’t dull my mood in the slightest. I stroll through the small town, taking my time to admire the beautiful architecture and window shop, until I stumble upon a small oddity store called Hollow Curiosities.
Strings of twinkling lights drape across the front window, and a multitude of small objects are on display—clusters of crystals, large and small, a stack of books, tarot cards, some strange-looking handmade art and antique objects.
Just the place I want to be. Soft notes of sandalwood from the incense burning by the front door linger in the air as I step inside the dingy shop.
There’s not a person in sight, not even a worker behind the counter, but that doesn’t deter me.
My curious eyes scan the shelves as I wander deeper into the store.
It seems nothing has a specific place. Everything is everywhere; it’s complete chaos, and I’m sure if I lost something in here, it would never be found again.
My fingers brush against the rough points of an amethyst, its colour a velvety purple with deep red undertones, leaving me mesmerized by its beauty.
I move along, taking my time perusing the shop, checking out the ouija boards and pendulums, getting lost in the mystic madness.
My footsteps come to a halt when I approach a display case near the back wall.
Inside are tiny olive-green glass-like stones, with bubbles and pits throughout their forms. I can’t explain it, but the little rocks draw me in, like a cosmic pull that has my subconscious vibrating at an extremely high frequency.
I long to hold one in the palm of my hand.
“The moldavite speaks to you, it seems.” I startle, snapping out of my fixation.
“Moldavite?” I turn towards the woman who just emerged from behind a narrow, beaded doorway.
Her luscious, curly, black hair flows down to her hourglass figure, landing just above her hips, and freckles pepper the bridge of her nose, but her eyes are what hold my attention.
The colour is exquisite—hazel with gold flecks scattered about and a ring of green surrounding her irises.
She stares at me with a look so intense, I feel vulnerable under her gaze; it’s as if she can see every thought that travels through my mind, causing me to look away.
“The stones which you gaze upon are called moldavite. They are formed by the impact of a meteorite millions of years ago. They hold an immense amount of transformative power, which can be life-changing, removing obstacles from your life’s path, whether that obstacle is something positive or something negative.
One should be very careful when handling something so energy-driven.
In the hands of one who is unwilling to change, moldavite responds with chaos,” she explains, and I huff a laugh, looking back at her.
“I don’t think it would be wise for me to add any more mayhem to my life at the moment.”
She nods. “Your eyes tell me that’s surely the truth.” My eyes flicker to the sign hanging on the wall above the woman’s head. Tea Leaf Readings, $50.00.
She follows my gaze, and a slow smile spreads across her lips. “Shall we?” She holds her hand out, gesturing to the room behind the strings of beads. I look to the door, my nerves wavering at the thought of what she might tell me, at the insight she may have on my future.
I shake my head; the fear of knowing too much is equivalent to the fear of living in ignorance.
Sometimes you just need to choose which one is the lesser of two evils.
“Maybe another day,” I tell her, flashing her a weak smile.
“I’d like to purchase an amethyst cluster, please.
” The woman clicks her tongue and lets out a loud exhale, not at all hiding her disappointment in my refusal of a reading.
She stalks over to the amethyst and plucks one off the shelf, its sharp points glistening in the dim lights around the shop.
She places it on the counter and rings me up on the register.
I pay the woman, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible, feeling intimidated in her presence.
She hands me my receipt, and as I turn to leave the store, I feel her fingers wrap around my slender wrist with a firm hold, demanding I pay close attention.
“Playing it safe is not of sound mind, girl. Fear will limit your capabilities, but trudging forward with full force will ultimately grant you freedom.” She releases me from her grip, and I stagger back a few steps, confused by what she’s trying to tell me.
I nod to her and hold up the amethyst. “Thank you,” I say, my voice just above a whisper. Spinning on my heel, I take hurried steps out of the shop doors, letting the burst of cool air fill my lungs.
A shiver runs through me, and I shake off the unsettling feeling that the interaction has left me with.
I inspect the cluster and all its tiny imperfections, loving how it gives the stones character and individuality.
Tucking it into my pocket, I focus on where I’m walking, taking a sharp left down a side alley.
I head back towards the manor, trying to shake the woman’s words from my mind, but they play on a loop like a record skipping its track.
When I peer up into the bleak alley ahead, I see a man slowly approaching.
I’ve seen my fair share of overly intoxicated men in my lifetime, and he most definitely is one of them.
His steps sway, confirming my suspicion.
His sandy-brown hair is dishevelled, and his navy-blue jacket hangs lopsided over a grey t-shirt with one too many holes in it.
A malicious grin spreads wide upon his face.
I swallow heavily, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one is behind me.
Usually in the city, I’d keep my wits about me, always scanning my surroundings so I don’t end up on the front cover of the newspaper that week.
But here, in Hollowcrest, I’ve seemed to let my guard down.
I slow my steps and cautiously turn myself around, walking back the way I came to put some distance between us without making it too obvious.
I don’t know the man, but the way he walks towards me sends warning signals through every part of me, and listening to my instinct has never failed me before.
I quicken my pace, the end of the alley in sight, but still not close enough.
A hand grasps my shoulder, and I shout, “Let go of me!” The man pushes me against the cool bricks, trapping me between his body and the wall.
I can smell the stench of liquor on his breath, and it takes me back to my last night at The Garnet Cavern.
He folds my hands behind my back, pinning me in place.
The pain from the brick digging into my wrists is enough to cause me to cry out.
His breath is rancid, and he leans his alcoholic lips inches from my face, making my insides curl and bile climb up my throat.
“Shhh, there’s no need to be rude, love.
I’m not gonna hurt ya—if you’d just stop squirming around.
” His smirk is vile, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading to whatever exists beyond this life to save me from this monstrosity of a man.
“Please, just let me go,” I beg, thrashing my body against his, feeling his hard length pushing into my stomach. Tears prick my eyes, and vomit finds its way into my mouth.
“You’re the Gravenhurst girl, aren’t ya? Quite the looker, I’d say,” he slurs, chuckling to himself, and a scream rips through me. He covers my mouth with one of his hands, but I continue to scream, hoping someone walking by will hear my cries.
It feels like time is standing still. One minute I’m screaming for help, while a grimy middle-aged man forces himself upon me, and the next, the man is stumbling backwards, falling to the ground by the impact of a fist slamming into the side of his face.
I hear a crunch, and I’m almost certain he’s broken his nose.
Dragging my eyes away from my attacker, they slide up to a face I’ve never been happier to see.
Reed Sullivan shakes out his hand, likely sore from the sucker punch he just threw on my behalf.
“Reed!” I instinctively wrap my arms around his waist, folding my body into his.
His arms surround me, holding me while pulling me away from the deranged man at the same time.
“You okay, Gravenhurst? Did he hurt you?” He pulls away from me, his hands clasping my arms, making sure there are no visible markings on my skin.
“I-I’m okay, you got here just in time,” I manage to respond, still shaken from being grabbed by a stranger.
The man on the ground groans and begins to climb to his feet.
He pinches his bloody nose, stumbling towards us, continuing to mouth off.
Reed walks me to the opening of the alley and takes a deep breath.
“Stay right here, okay?” His eyes are so dark, they look like a swirling pit of rage.
I nod my head, unable to speak, panic still sitting heavy in my chest. He spins around, marching straight towards the man, his body language trudging forward with purpose.
Reed grabs him by the collar of the shirt and hoists him upright, slamming his back into the brick wall.
“You come near her again, and you’ll get more than a crooked nose.
” His words are laced with venom, intention behind them, a promise.
The attacker stays silent, seemingly scared of what he may do next.
Reed spits at the man’s feet and walks back to me.
His arm slinks around my shoulder, and we put some distance between us and the alley.
I’m still trembling, partly because of the crisp air, and partly from the adrenaline steadily coursing through my veins. My jaw chatters, and Reed notices.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls me into a side hug.
“Here, take my sweatshirt.” He pulls his hoodie off his body, his shirt lifting slightly as he tugs it over his head.
My eyes dip to the curvature of his hip bones, making me bite my lower lip.
What is wrong with me? He hands me his sweatshirt, and I throw it on, getting lost in the size of it compared to my smaller frame.
Reed whistles. “Damn, Gravenhurst. I like seeing you in my clothes.”
I stifle a laugh, and I feel my cheeks blush. Suddenly, I’m feeling a little shy. “Thanks, Sullivan.” My eyes flicker to the ground, no longer able to meet his gaze. “Really…Thank you for saving me.”
He reaches out and dips a finger under my chin, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “Come on, let me walk you home.” He gives me a soft smile, and I nod, not wanting to walk the roads alone.
We walk in silence at first, the breeze sweeping between us, whirling my hair into my eyes. I can feel Reed’s gaze on the side of my face, but I don’t bite. He wants me to know he’s watching me. I look in the other direction and hide the smile forming on my lips.
“You know, I can see you smiling from the back of your head,” he teases, and I smile harder, unable to hide the way he affects me.
He chuckles softly. “How are you liking Hollowcrest so far?”
I shrug. “It’s alright, I like it so far. It’s a lot nicer than where I was living before.”
“And where was that?” he asks, and I grimace, not wanting to go into details of the life I lived before coming here.
“You grew up here, right?” I ask, a poor attempt to change the subject. He takes the bait.
“Born and raised.” He beams, proud of his roots.
He should be. I fall silent again, lost within my thoughts of what it must have been like to grow up the way Reed has.
He notices my change in demeanour and clears his throat.
“My family has a long-standing history within the Hollowcrest parameters. Our family line dates back to the early 1600s. It’s almost an unwritten rule that a Sullivan born here must claim their birthright by honouring the legacies who came years before with their loyalty to the town. ” His smile falters.
“Seems like those are some pretty big shoes to fill.” I flash him an empathetic smile.
He huffs a laugh and swipes his hand through his dirty-blonde locks. “Indeed, they are.”
Time seems to escape me, because before I know it, we’re approaching the iron gates to the manor.
Slowing our pace, I turn on my heel, facing Reed, halting him from going any further.
“Thank you for walking me home, and for coming to my rescue back there.” I nod my head in the direction we just came from.
“I owe you one.” He smiles, and butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach.
“How about I take you on a date, and we call it even?” His eyes search mine, waiting for my response.
He tucks his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.
Is Reed Sullivan, King of Hollowcrest…nervous?
I can’t imagine he gets rejected often. After how he stood up for me today, I don’t have the heart to tell him no.
“I’d like that very much,” I reply, and his grin stretches across his face.
“I’ll pick you up at six, see you soon, Gravenhurst.” He winks, and I shake my head at his flirtation.
“See you soon, Sullivan.”