Between Shadows and Storms
1056 Words
The school was still quiet when I pulled in.
The fog from last night had lifted, but the air held something heavy—like it hadn’t fully let go of what happened beneath that oak tree. I hadn’t told anyone about it—not Gerald, not my coworkers, and definitely not John. Not that I’d even know how to start that conversation. Hi, I saw a glowing-eyed woman in the fog and she knew my name. Cool, right?
I parked in my usual spot, the faculty lot mostly empty this early. I had office hours before classes started, and a few college students usually trickled in with questions. Being both a high school teacher and a community college adjunct had its perks—one building, one messy life—and plenty of time to hide in the classroom when things felt too much at home.
Still, I kept glancing toward the oak tree as I gathered my bag and coffee. There was nothing there now—no silver-haired women, no black feathers, no cryptic warnings. Just an old tree and my fraying nerves.
The walk inside felt slower today.
Not tired-slow. Wary-slow.
The kind where your gut knows something’s coming before your brain catches up.
The first student of the morning was late, and that suited me just fine. I used the quiet to skim lesson plans and not think about John. Or Gerald. Or the way the world felt like it was about to crack open beneath me.
But of course, the second I thought of him—
“Morning,” John said, knocking lightly on my open door.
He wore a dark gray sweater over a button-down, somehow managing to look both respectable and dangerous. Calm. Capable. Hot as hell. A man who made trouble look like a promise.
“I need a new word for you showing up uninvited,” I muttered.
“Try fate,” he said, flashing that crooked smile. “It’s shorter.”
I looked at him. “You’re not just here to check on Aaron, are you?”
His mouth twitched. “No. But that’s still technically my cover story.”
“Cover story?”
He leaned against the doorframe. “I have a contracted position through the outreach and security liaison program. It’s technically tied to the college—but it keeps me close enough to you and Aaron.”
“You’re watching me,” I said flatly.
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what, exactly?”
He hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“I saw her again,” I said quietly. “Or maybe the same woman. Silver hair. Glowing violet eyes. She spoke in riddles. Said I was ‘becoming.’”
His expression shifted—barely, but I caught it.
“What does that mean?” I pressed. “And don’t give me the cryptic protector line again. I’m done being gaslit by my own life.”
John stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“That was Sera,” he said.
“She knows you?”
“She knows of me. We’re not exactly on the same side—but we have similar missions.”
I blinked. “What does that mean?”
“She’s part of something called the Circle of Thorns. It’s… a coven, technically. They trace their roots back to the ancient Regalia bloodlines.”
My mouth went dry. “And you think I’m one of those?”
“I don’t think,” he said, eyes steady on mine. “I know.”
I sat heavily in my desk chair.
“Why now?” I asked. “Why is all of this happening now?”
He tilted his head. “Because someone—or something—shifted the balance. You were meant to stay hidden, Katie. Someone didn’t want you to awaken. And now… you’ve been found.”
“Found by who?”
Another pause. And this one felt loaded.
“There’s a faction that wants Regalia descendants for power. Not protection,” he said carefully. “They work in the shadows. Sometimes they embed themselves into lives. Marriages. Communities.”
His voice faltered, just for a second.
I froze. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… keep your eyes open. Especially around people who pretend they don’t see you anymore.”
The words hit like a slap.
He didn’t name Gerald. He didn’t have to.
That night, Gerald was home before me. The house was dark. The TV off. He sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone, one hand loosely cradling a beer bottle. He looked up as I walked in, and something flickered across his face—brief and unreadable.
“You’re late,” he said.
“College office hours ran long,” I lied.
He nodded, but I knew he didn’t buy it. “You’re always busy these days.”
I dropped my bag near the door. “You’re always here. Seems like we’ve found our balance.”
He didn’t take the bait. Just stood, slowly, almost carefully, and walked toward me.
“I know you’re confused right now,” he said. “I know something’s happening inside you—and you think I don’t notice. But I do.”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I know John Jensen’s not just some outreach, security guy. I know you feel something when he looks at you. I’d be blind not to.”
I let out a breath. “So this is jealousy now?”
“No. This is me telling you I’ve seen men like him before. Hell, I was him. Once. Before everything.”
My throat tightened.
“But you need to remember something,” he said, his voice low. “I’m not your prison, Katie. I’ve been your safe place. Even if you stopped noticing. Even if fate wants to rip that away.”
I shook my head. “Why do you keep bringing up fate?”
He stopped. Looked down. Like he’d gone too far.
“Gerald—”
“I’m not the villain here,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just the one still standing when the dust settles.”
Then he walked out of the room.
And for a heartbeat, the lights flickered—just faintly.
- Writer
