Finding Alice (Alice Clark Series) Page 2

  I walked aimlessly through the hall, passing hundreds of students. I exited through steel doors and headed toward my car. The parking lot was so packed, it took me awhile to remember where I had parked. At least that is what I told myself. I stopped walking, closing my eyes, and took a deep breath. “Where are you, car?” I turned slowly until I felt this magnetic pull. My eyes shot open and I felt my dimples appear. “There you are.”

  She wasn’t much to look at. Like midnight, the way the black faded to gray. She was old and obviously had been through a few bad relationships in her past. I threw my bag inside and climbed in. My notebook fell out of my bag from the whiplash of hitting my passenger seat. I scooped it up and started to toss it back in the bag when I noticed a single black feather stuck in it. I was clutching it when I heard a thump hit my window. I screamed.

  “Whoa! My bad, hun.” Camille had her face pressed against my dirty window. I rolled down the window.

  “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry. I just wanted to know if you work tonight.”

  I was just about to answer when I noticed the gorgeous guy from class leaning against a shiny, black Challenger talking to some other guy. It seemed a little too new and flashy for him, though I didn’t know him at all, let alone enough to make a judgment about his car. He was facing our direction but was too far away to hear us.

  “Hello? Earth to Alice! What is with you today?”

  “Sorry, what? Oh, I mean yes. Yes, I work tonight.”

  “Awesome. Can I hitch a ride? I’m meeting Jake and apparently he’s already there, and Hell is a long way to walk from here.”

  I waved her in and she climbed into my car, going on and on about how sure she was that Jake was already drunk. Of course he was; he was an alcoholic. I just nodded and drove away.

  I pulled up a dirty driveway to a small house that looked like it may have been beaten in a previous life. “I need a quick shower,” I announced. Camille waved me off while she talked away on her cell. My house would probably seem eerie to some, but it’s the closest to home I’ve ever felt.

  I started the shower and dug through my hamper filled with black beaters and thermals. I grabbed a clean set and launched them into the bathroom. A small black box probably meant for jewelry sat on my desk near my dusty window. I pulled the black feather from my pocket and set it in the box with the others I’d found over the years. The echo of my horn rattled through the house and I hurried into the shower.

  The water was like fire melting ice on my skin. I started to drift, thinking about class only to be interrupted by my horn again. I turned the shower off, towel-dried my hair, and threw my clothes on. I added a quick line of black eyeliner and mascara before darting out the door.

  Back on the road, we headed to Hell, Michigan’s favorite bar. Well, more like their only bar that was still open, anyway.

  “If your hair wasn’t wet, I wouldn’t have known you showered. Do you even know what color is?” Camille said, laughing while tugging at my clothes.

  “It’s comfortable,” I said, glaring.

  “Oh, come on. I’m just messing with you.”

  I let a smirk show, just enough to get her off of my case. We pulled into the parking lot and parked in the furthest spot, partly so customers could park closer and partly so their drunken asses wouldn’t crash into my car when they left.

  “Hey Alice, how was school?” Max asked. He had been getting a little more fatherly with me lately. I was sure it was because his kids were all grown up and had moved away and he knew I had never really had a father.

  “It was okay. Do you need me to lock up tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am. What would I do without you?”

  “Be overworked and underpaid, sort of like me.” We exchanged a chuckle and he headed to the back to finish his paperwork before heading home.

  The bar was filled with the usual tenants, like Old Gray, who was exactly as his name described. He reminded me of Sean Connery with shoulder-length, silver hair. He was so old, it seemed as if he had been around for an eternity. He was a sweet guy who always tipped me well. Not sure how he made his money, being he was always there pretending he was a fish. Jake was an early 30-something who behind his rough exterior actually wasn’t all that bad to look at if you liked that grungy farm boy look. He was in the back attempting to teach Camille how to play pool. Lastly, there was Jasmine, pronounced Jazz-mean, a washed-up something in her very late 50s. She was still sporting her fur coat even though the weather had warmed up, just to show how much money she used to have. Clearly I wasn’t a fan. It was a slow night; it seemed like only the regulars were there, but I didn’t really mind that.

  I made another dirty martini for Jasmine, which she complained still wasn’t right. Old Gray paid for it to shut her up, another reason why he was the best regular ever created. I poured him another scotch and slid it down the bar. It almost reached his hand when the smell of sandy beaches rushed through my nose. My head jerked from the still glass to a frozen Camille, who was twisted on the pool table with Jake wrapped around her, attempting to show her a behind-the-back shot. Her hair was in the air like it was attacked by static. My eyes made their way toward the door to see Mr. Chiseled walking in. He walked straight up to the bar and sat down. I almost didn’t notice the clank of Old Gray’s ring against the glass of scotch as he sat down. How was he not frozen? I thought to myself.

  “What can I get you?” I asked, trying to play it cool. Sex on the beach?

  “No. I’ll take a rum and coke,” he said with a playful smirk. His smile cut through me like broken glass, beautifully painful. I mixed his drink and noticed Old Gray had a smirk plastered on his face as well. I gave him his drink. “You are old enough, right?” He passed me his ID. I scanned it quickly for age and name, of course. I couldn’t keep calling him Mr. Chiseled forever. Cole Corvus. I handed it back with a smile. He tucked it in his front pocket. I didn’t really notice I was watching until he cleared his throat. Luckily for me, Camille did.

  “Alice,” she called out, waving her empty glass at me with a huge grin across her face. I mixed her a screwdriver, just guessing what she was drinking. I grabbed another Miller, popped the cap off on the bar with my fist, and sauntered over to them. I could feel him staring at me as the distance between us grew. I swore I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

  “Nice walk,” Cole whispered into my ear. I snapped my head back to see him sitting at the bar talking to Old Gray. Jake snatched the beer from my right hand. As he did, Camille took her screwdriver from my left hand. She leaned into me.

  “Isn’t that the hot guy from class you were staring at?”

  “Shut up,” I said, trying to whisper. It didn’t help me to, though. I was sure he somehow heard me. I walked back to the bar, watching Jasmine tap her fake nails against her empty glass. I mixed her another drink, feeling the burn of his eyes on me. “Here you go, and don’t bitch this time,” I said. She glared and took a sip, slurping it obnoxiously.

  I looked back and forth between Old Gray and Cole, who were deep in their conversation with empty glasses in front of them. I made them each a drink and set them down on the bar. I shoved them forward and before I had a chance to let go, I felt his hand on mine. It felt like warm sand between my fingers. Just about when it started to feel unbearably hot, he let go, sliding the glass from my hand. I jerked back. Concern covered his face as he furrowed his brows. This is going to be a long night. I looked for his reaction, but he was already back to his conversation and back to ignoring me.

  “Old Gray, watch the bar for a minute?” I asked. He nodded and I left for my much-needed bathroom break.

  The door to the bathroom was heavy and creaked when you opened it. I was half surprised Camille didn’t follow me in there. I checked the stalls and the handicap one was the cleanest. I pulled out a cigarette, looked at it, and then put it back. I had been trying to quit for months. I walked to the sink and washed my hands, staring deeply into the di
rty mirror. It is not my job to clean in here. What the hell is he doing all the way in Hell? I laughed to myself, realizing that my wording was as ridiculous as the sentence itself. I dried my hands, checked my hair, and adjusted my bra. “Ouch. What the?” I said as I pulled a dark gray feather from my bra. Rolling my eyes, I shoved it deep into my pocket and headed back to the bar.

  As I approached, my steps slowed down as I saw everyone at the bar laughing and talking to one another. I almost made it behind the bar when I recognized what they were talking about—that bar fight I stopped. I was wishing I could go back and hide in the bathroom. Now he’s going to think I’m a freak.

  Camille saw my disapproving expression and headed back toward the pool tables. This feeling was crawling up the back of my spine that something horrible was coming. I locked eyes with Cole and saw worry on his face. Maybe he can feel it too. He nodded, but this time, I wasn’t frightened by it. I was more relieved. Maybe he could hear my thoughts; maybe he was just like me. I poured myself a shot behind the bar and took it, feeling it burn all the way down into my stomach. When I opened my eyes, he was gone. All that was left was a twenty and some singles sitting on the bar under his empty glass. Old Gray was back to sitting silently alone. I glanced at the time on the battered clock on the wall above the office. Holy shit. How is it ten to two already? “Last call, guys,” I said.

  Usually, they would all wave for one more drink. Tonight, they just grabbed their coats and got ready to head out. I started cleaning up the bar and walked around, picking up glasses filled with ash and napkins. When I got to his stool, I found a feather on it. I grabbed it, shoving it into my pocket with the other one. As I did, I smelled the scent of the ocean all over it. Is it possible? Is he like me?

  “You alright, hun?” Camille asked.

  “I’m okay. Just tired.”

  “Go get some sleep in that creepy ass house of yours.” She smiled and headed out arm in arm with Jake.

  I finished wiping the bar down and headed to the back with the empties. Returning, I grabbed another case of Miller and a bottle of scotch, vodka, gin, and rum, and hauled them back upfront. I put them away and sat down at the bar. I pulled the feathers out of my pocket. The gray feather was soft and almost identical to all those I had found before. I smelled it. No particular scent—it just smelled like me, I suppose. I put it back in my pocket and held the feather I found on Cole’s seat in my outstretched hand. I closed my eyes and breathed in as deeply as I could. I felt the smell crawl into my nostrils; I could almost hear the waves. It was the first time in a long time I had felt so relaxed and strangely safe, though some part of me was warning me of nearby danger. I opened my eyes to see the feather hovering above my hand. Normally, I would have snatched it out of the air and made sure no one was looking. This time, I just watched it dance, mimicking a tossing motion from hand to hand. Alice. A sinister chill ran up my spine. That voice was definitely not my own. The feather dropped to the bar and I turned to the door to find no one there. I shook my head, put the feather back in my pocket, and climbed off the bar. “You are officially insane,” I said. I grabbed my bag and headed home to my “creepy ass house.”

  I walked into my room and put the feathers away. I threw my bag on my bed and strutted back to the kitchen for a snack. I stared into my almost empty fridge for a few minutes before finally giving up. I should do homework but I’m exhausted. I threw on a pair of sweats and a tank top and flopped onto my bed. I pulled out the book from class and flipped randomly through, reading little pieces of it. Apparently, those angels wanted to do the same things mankind got to do. They fell from Heaven to do so and basically put themselves in the shitter with God.

  The air smelled like fruit. I rubbed my eyes, attempting to see. I looked at the sky; it bounced with shades of purple, red, and dark gray. It was gorgeous and I was obviously dreaming. I walked through this large, empty field, feeling the warmth of the day on my skin slowly evaporate. I could hear what sounded like voices coming from the dark woods in front of me on the other side of this amber field. It’s a dream. It’s safe to check it out. I walked toward the blackness and trees, glancing back at the field behind me that was well-lit from the sun setting. I stood on the edge of the woods line, debating my entrance and my sanity at that particular moment. “It’s not real,” I said to reassure myself. I entered the woods, cautiously at first. The voices grew loud enough that I could almost make out what they were saying, but there were so many, the words were tangling together. My head began to ache and I turned to run back, but I couldn’t figure out which way was back any longer. I picked up the pace until the voices were roaring in my head. I started into a full-on sprint, running through the darkness and barely able to see a foot in front of me, trusting myself not to run straight into a tree.

  “Alice,” a voice called. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Alice.”

  That one voice was calming and felt safe. I found the direction the voice was coming from and ran straight toward it. I felt the warmth on the back of my neck. It was not the same as before. This felt haunting. Concentrating, I singled in on one voice in particular. “Keep going,” he said. I was moving so steadfastly, I felt as if I was floating through the air. My feet came to a dead halt when the smell of sand and freshwater climbed up my nose. I made it. I looked out to the water and saw the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I stared in amazement as the moon beamed off of his toned torso, so elegant. In one glorious flex, these incredible charcoal wings escaped his back. I gasped in complete silence but he didn’t even notice me. They extended at least five feet in each direction. Each feather twitched as if they were filled with electricity.

  “Cole? You’re so beautiful,” I heard myself say. He turned to me, his eyes piercing almost into my soul. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent deeply.

  I opened my eyes and focused in on the ceiling through the darkness. Part of me was relieved it was a dream. The other part of me was yearning for it to have been real. I rubbed my head in frustration and reached out in a full body stretch. My arms flopped to my sides; I dragged them back up to my pillow and felt the softest touch against my skin. My eyes fully adjusted to the darkness and searched the space around me. My entire bed was now covered in gray-toned feathers.

  “Holy shit.” I twirled my hands through them and fell back asleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  The rest of the week went by like a blur of boring emptiness, nothing more than pouring drinks, homework, and strange dreams I couldn’t seem to remember. Weeks like that seemed to drag on forever. My second class started that week as well. That was the class I was excited for—Art Medium—basically meaning that I got to draw, paint, and even sculpt if I wanted to. The teacher was very laid back. She introduced herself as Tina and let us choose anywhere in the large room to work from for the semester. It had a cathedral ceiling with beautiful skylights that filled the room with warm, natural light. I found a cozy spot in the back corner where the lighting was a bit dimmer. I pulled out my supplies and grabbed a giant canvas.

  I pulled out my iPod and threw on some Frou Frou to start. Anything really would have worked to drown out my thoughts and the world around me. I fiddled through my art box, debating on paint or charcoal. I decided on the charcoal, for the pure love of the feeling of it in my hands as it crumbled across the canvas. I listened to the beat of the music and let the singer’s voice consume me.

  The petite Tina stood over my shoulder; I noticed her shadow first. I pulled my headphones off and looked up at her, a little startled.

  “Very interesting. Alice, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I just wanted to let you know, I’m closing up the classroom in twenty minutes.” I glanced out the skylight and noticed the darkness closing in. I looked at her with confusion plastered across my face, yet again. She watched as I put together that I had been there for two or three of her classes. “I love to watch an artist get so lost in their work. My other classes have f
ewer students anyway, so you are welcome to work as long as the room is open. I’m looking forward to seeing more pieces from you this semester,” she said with a smile.

  I stared at my enormous canvas covered in charcoal. My hands were covered in particles of gray and black. I sat in shock. It was the dream looking right back at me. A man stood at the edge of the small pool of water, profile in view, showing his chiseled jaw line and toned torso. Light was shining like electricity around him and nothing but eerie darkness swirled around it as if the strokes of grays and blacks were speaking. It was sad and angry and beautifully filled with danger.

  “So much for not thinking about it,” I said with a sigh. I packed up my belongings and threw a cover over my canvas. As I walked out, Tina smiled and I nodded in a silent, “Good night.”

  The air smelled crisp that Thursday afternoon. It felt as if a warning was lingering in the air, stalking me. I packed my schoolbag for my early religion class and made a quick snack. Bagel and cream cheese. I stuffed the bagel in my mouth like it was an extra hand, grabbed my keys, and headed to campus in a whirlwind of emotions. Will he be there? Will he know I’ve been dreaming about him? Will he talk in my head again?

  “I sound like a lunatic,” I said. I pulled into campus a little late, which meant I got to park on the other side of the world. I hurried to class in a brisk walk, weighing the possibilities ahead. I reached the class and swung open the door. “Nice of you to join us. Take your seat,” Mr. Riley hissed.

  With my head down, I did the walk of shame to my desk. I sat down and the teacher continued his lecture on our reading from last week. I looked up at Camille, who was making a “You okay?” look in my direction. I mouthed “Fine” and she smiled, returning her to attention to the lecture. I gazed at Cole for a moment and listened for anything. Nothing. Defeated, I pulled out my book and tried to find out exactly where we were.