Blood & Soul

Blood & Soul by Deborah O'Toole (aka Deidre Dalton) is Book #3 in the Bloodline Trilogy.

Emma Beckett is adopted into a loving home as an infant, never knowing the true circumstances of her birth. As a child, she discovers she has unique powers of healing but eventually realizes her abilities could be an instrument of evil, begotten by a bloodthirsty monster.

From Chapter Two: Power Flourish

BOTH SHAWN AND Emma attended the Mendocino K8 School, eschewing summers when they walked and played on Frolic Cove Beach. Shawn was one grade ahead of Emma, his nine-month advantage over her placing him in a different class. Yet he was ever watchful over her, making sure she was never bullied or teased by any of her classmates. However, Emma made friends easily. She enjoyed school and learning, acing all of her subjects.

The school was an impressive spread located on Little Lake Road, which snaked parallel to the town itself and the Pacific Ocean. The blue-roofed and cream-walled buildings appeared distinctly modern, despite having been constructed in 1980. The outdoor areas were a mixture of ocean-themed murals, green grass and concrete walking areas, with benches and tables used by students during good weather. The recreational fields were situated at the rear of the school, facing the ocean.

The rounded playground at Mendocino K8 was large, paved with black asphalt and littered with swings, slides and several tetherball posts with yellow balls. During recess time, Emma liked nothing better than to swing, watching Shawn as he played tetherball with a classmate.

One of their fellow students, Calvin Hayes, was known to don shorts and run laps around the playground during recess, come rain or shine. Even though he was only ten years old, Calvin was passionate about running. He was a tall boy with sandy-colored hair, freckled skin and blue eyes. His imposing height often drew all eyes to his stunning physique, even at such a tender age.

One mid-morning, as Calvin rounded a corner near the swing set, he slipped on a patch of wet grass and tumbled to the asphalt, his left knee hitting first and then dragging on the hard ground.

Emma jumped from the swing, darting toward the fallen runner. He had rolled over on his back, his heavily scraped knee on full display with blood oozing from an angry red gash. Emma saw the tears in Calvin's eyes as he tried to hold back cries of pain.

She sat on the ground next to him, reaching out to touch his knee with her bare hand. He gazed at her in wonder, curious as to what she was doing.

Shawn and a classmate had stopped their tetherball game, coming to stand nearby. Shawn smiled when he realized what Emma was doing. She was healing Calvin's wounded knee, just like she had restored health to wild animals.

Less than a minute later, Emma and Calvin rose from the asphalt. Shawn saw the abrasion was gone from Calvin's knee, as if it had never happened. Yet he was hardly shocked by the sight. It was merely a by-product of being close to Emma. He was inordinately proud of her magical abilities, even if he could not explain them.

"How did you do that?" Calvin asked harshly, a note of fear in his voice. He cocked his head slightly. "What kind of freak are you?"

She was stunned, and hurt. She had healed Calvin, yet he was calling her a freak. She didn't understand. "I was just trying to help you," she stammered. "Didn't I make it better?"

"Freak," he reiterated cruelly as he reached over and pushed her to the ground forcefully.

"Hey! "Shawn shouted angrily as he rushed to Emma's side. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Your little girl is a freak," Calvin shouted in return. "She doesn't belong around normal people. She doesn't belong at this school."

Shawn advanced toward Calvin, his blue eyes flashing with rage. Before Calvin could step back, Shawn shoved him to the ground.

Calvin quickly sprung to his feet and shoved Shawn in return, who maintained his balance even as he tottered precariously. "That's enough," Shawn snarled. He hauled off and punched Calvin in the face, leveling him to the ground again.

Calvin put his hands to his face, momentarily stunned. He rose slowly, still holding his face. "You're going to pay for that," he said in a quavering voice. "I'm going to get you in so much trouble, Baskerville." Then he turned on his heel and ran off toward the school.

Shawn helped Emma to her feet. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Are we going to get in trouble, Shawn?" She asked him fearfully.

He shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Em, but I might get into trouble for hitting Calvin. I don't care, he deserved it. Don't worry, it'll all blow over."

"Are you sure?"

"All is well and good, Em," he assured her.

But he had a feeling it wasn't.

* * *

AFTER THE INCIDENT with Calvin Hayes on the K-8 playground, Emma thought about the word "freak." Calvin had been intent on relaying it to her with a forceful - if not fearful - jab. She realized it wasn't a good label - he obviously hadn't been paying her any compliments. But she wasn't a freak. Or was she?

Helping to heal animals came to her as naturally as breathing. Now, apparently, her skill had expanded to humans. Emma did not think her inborn "gift" was anything out of the ordinary. It was part of who she was. How could it to be a bad thing? It didn't make her a freak certainly - or did it? She knew of no other children - or adults, for that matter - who could do what she did on a regular basis. It was unique to her, and no one else. So, perhaps she was a freak after all . . .

Emma glanced at Shawn as they waited to be ushered into the principal's office. Calvin had lost no time in reporting his version of events to the principal, who quickly summoned Shawn and Emma to his office.

The waiting area was behind the main counter in the administrative office of the school. The carpets were brown and threadbare, the walls adorned with historical portraits depicting the school's history. The chairs were hard and uncomfortable, without arm rests, and faced the door to the principal's inner sanctum.

"Why did Calvin call me a freak?" Emma asked Shawn suddenly.

"Because he's an idiot," he muttered darkly in reply. "Don't pay him any mind, Em."

"But there has to a reason he called me a freak," she insisted stubbornly. "It sure flew out of his mouth fast enough."

He turned his head to look at her. "Maybe he felt like a wuss because a girl -  namely you - helped him when he went down. I hate to break it to him, but he was a wuss long before you helped him. He was born that way, I'm sure. He knows he's mentally weak and hates that about himself. So he lashed out at you, whom he sees as weaker than himself because you're a girl, and you're younger than him."

Emma sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't help anyone ever again."

"Don't you dare change," Shawn told her sternly. "You're fine as you are. Be yourself, Em, and to hell with what other people say or think."

"I'll try," she murmured, looking down at her feet. Her white tennies were scuffed, and one shoelace was untied. Her feet were firmly planted on the floor, easy for her - even at her age - because of her height and coltish legs.

"Are we in big trouble?" She ventured after a moment of silence between them.

He shrugged. "I am, for sure, because I gave Calvin the smack in the face he deserved. But you didn't do anything wrong, Em."

"Do you think they called our parents?"

"Probably," he replied. "My mother won't be too upset, though, especially when I tell her what happened. She'll be on my side."

"Gwen is cool," Emma smiled.

He grinned. "That she is."

* * *

EDGAR WITTSTOCK HAD been principal of the Mendocino K-8 School for nearly thirty years. He prided himself on the school's stellar reputation, feeling he deserved credit for most of it. He preferred the institution to be run like a well-oiled machine, with himself at the helm, and wanted no guff from the students, teaching staff or cafeteria and maintenance workers.

Aside from a few ruffles over three decades - a small fire in the boy's restroom back in 1990, and the cafeteria staff walking off the job in 1996 when they were passed over for raises - K-8 had consistently run in smooth fashion. The small blaze in the boy's room had resulted in fire training drills for all students and staff, and the temporary cafeteria debacle had been weathered when Edgar's wife, Janine, had pitched in to cook and serve lunch to the students. The cafeteria staff eventually returned, without the raises they had sought.

Edgar's office was small, only slightly cluttered as neatness and organization were two of his top priorities. His mind had been a tad scattered of late as he was suffering from a three-month term of gastrological distress, which he treated with frequent swallows of the thick, chalky Mylanta liquid medication for acid indigestion. Of medium height with stocky legs, grayish-brown hair and brown eyes, he felt he was healthy enough for a man approaching sixty-three years of age. Although his belly had grown larger over time, he minded his diet - for the most part - and did a lot of walking. He neither smoked nor drank, although he had been tempted on occasion. Everything in moderation was his motto.

He sat at his desk, gazing at the contents in the file for Shawn Baskerville. K-8 was small enough that he knew just about everyone by sight. Shawn had always been an exemplary student, getting good grades and never causing trouble. The fact that he was now involved in a playground set-to raised no great alarm in Edgar. He knew the boy to be intelligent, never showing signs of unrest or violence. However, Shawn was also a growing boy. Perhaps, as he grew older, a different personality would emerge.

Still, Edgar wanted the facts before passing judgment and issuing subsequent punishment, if any.

* * *

GWEN ARRIVED AT K-8 with Cabral and Darcy, the three of them having been notified that Principal Wittstock wanted to see them. The principal's secretary, Karen Kimball, had assured them Shawn and Emma were okay, but an incident had occurred on the playground which needed to be addressed.

"Shawn is not a troublemaker," Gwen said under her breath as the threesome walked down the main hall at K-8. Class was in, so the hall was empty, echoing with their footsteps in the otherwise unusual silence.

"Ed's secretary didn't give us details about what happened," Cabral said. "But to be called to the school . . . it can't be good."

"Both Shawn and Em are level-headed children," Darcy insisted. "It can't be that bad."

"I hope you're right."

Darcy glanced at her husband sharply. "We're talking about Shawn and Emma, Cabral. You know them as well as I do."

Gwen walked ahead of the couple as they neared the principal's office. She opened the main door and stepped inside, quickly followed by Cabral and Darcy. Their first view was of Karen Kimball, who was Principal Wittstock's long-time secretary. She was standing behind a long, oak counter, secured by a low gate on the right side. Karen kept her long, white hair in a neat bun, her sallow expression rarely conveying any mood but sternness. Gwen, Cabral and Darcy remembered her from their own days at K-8, and not much had changed.

Gwen spotted Shawn and Emma sitting in the waiting area just beyond the gate. Both children saw their parents, offering wan smiles.

"What's going on here?" Gwen asked Karen directly.

"Principal Wittstock will fill you in," Karen replied, not a tic of emotion in her voice. "I'll let him know you're here." She reached for a phone on the counter - a relic from the 1980s, Gwen guessed, displaying multiple lines on a single console - punching in a two-digit number as she held the receiver to her ear. "Mr. Wittstock, the parents have arrived." She listened and then nodded. "Yes. Mrs. Baskerville, and Mr. and Mrs. Beckett."

After she hung up the phone, Karen pressed a buzzer under the counter, and the gate automatically opened. "Principal Wittstock will see you now."

Emma ran to her parents, hugging them fiercely. "Shawn didn't do anything bad," she told them tremulously. "But Calvin Hayes did. He called me a freak and pushed me down."

"Ssshhh," Darcy soothed her daughter as she touched the top of Emma's head. "We'll get to the bottom of it."

Principal Wittstock opened his office door and greeted the parents. "Come on in," he spoke genially. He glanced at the children. "All of you."

They went into the small office, Principal Wittstock closing the door behind them. He walked around to his office chair and sat down, while Gwen, Cabral, Darcy and Emma took the four chairs which faced the desk. Shawn remained standing, a stoic expression on his face.

"A minor incident took place on the playground earlier today, " Principal Wittstock began. "It involved Shawn, Emma and another student named Calvin Hayes. I've already spoken to Calvin about his version of events." He glanced at Shawn and Emma. "Now, I'd like to hear yours."

"Calvin was running and fell," Shawn spoke up. "Emma tried to help him . . ."

"Calvin called me a freak and pushed me down," Emma interrupted angrily. "Shawn was just trying to protect me."

Shawn glanced at Emma briefly, and then resumed speaking. "Calvin pushed Emma down rather hard. I thought it was uncalled for, so I shoved him back. Then he shoved me, and I smacked him in the face. He got angry, said he would get me in trouble, and then ran off." Shawn stared at the principal. "Like the coward he is."

Principal Wittstock pondered Shawn's words for a moment before speaking. "Calvin claims you hit him without provocation."

"He's lying," Shawn responded firmly.

The principal looked to Emma. "Calvin fell, and you were trying to help him?"

Emma nodded vigorously. "Yes. He scraped his knee on the pavement. I was trying to help him when he blew up and called me a freak."

"He forgot to mention that," Principal Wittstock said wryly.

"We're telling the truth," Shawn stated flatly. "When Calvin pushed Em like that, I wasn't sure if he intended to do her more harm, so I shoved him in return."

The principal nodded. "It sounds plausible to me. Calvin has a history of . . ." He paused. "Spirited shenanigans, as it were. I tend to believe your version of events. I'm just thankful it didn't escalate further." He closed the file on his desk, his eyes going to the parents. "Sorry to drag all of you down here, but I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Of course," Gwen spoke. "Thank you."

"I'm just glad it wasn't serious," Darcy spoke up, glancing at her daughter.

Emma was no longer paying attention to the conversation as she sat still in her chair, watching Principal Wittstock. She suddenly seemed fascinated by his shiny forehead, which was beaded in slight perspiration. He absently reached for a turquoise-colored plastic bottle on his desk, unscrewing the top and leaning his head back to take a healthy swig. He grimaced as he set the bottle back down.

Emma saw a white chalky substance ringing the principal's lips as he used his tongue to erase it. With an inner clarity, she understood Principal Wittstock was hurting. Her first - and most natural - instinct was to help him.

"Is your tummy sore?" Emma asked softly, her eyes on the older man.

He glanced at her in surprise. "What did you say, child?"

"Is your tummy sore?" Emma repeated.

He reddened slightly. "Well, to be honest, yes. The upset tummy comes and goes." He pointed to the bottle on his desk. "That stuff helps - Mylanta is a godsend - as does staying away from spicy food."

Gwen, Cabral and Darcy watched with wide eyes as Emma rose and walked around Principal Wittstock's desk to face him. Shawn yawned. Emma's actions were old hat for him.

Emma lay her hand on the principal's rotund stomach as he sat in his chair. He jerked slightly from her touch, startled that the child was putting her hand on him. He felt an almost instant warmth spread throughout his stomach, tempering and then quickly extinguishing the painful flames in his belly.

With a smile, Emma removed her hand and returned to her seat.

Principal Wittstock stared at the girl, dumbfounded. The hot pain in his gut was gone, replaced by a soothing warmth. He swallowed, unsure what had just transpired. It had to be a coincidence - her touching him and the pain disappearing - but somehow he knew any real explanation would defy logic. Best to leave sleeping dogs lie, he reasoned to himself.

"Our Em would make a splendid nurse, wouldn't she?" Darcy said with a smile, her eyes trained on Emma in the chair next to her. "She seems to have a gentle touch, a way with people."             The principal nodded dumbly, his gaze still on Emma.

"Since we've cleared things up, are we free to go now?" Gwen asked pointedly.

Principal Wittstock broke his gaze from Emma. "Yes, of course. And thank you for coming."

Gwen looked to Shawn. "You and Em go back to class, while we go back to work. We'll talk more tonight."

The principal stayed in his seat after the children and adults departed from his office, his mouth slightly agape. He stayed that way for several minutes, disjointed thoughts going through his mind.

He eventually stood from his desk, licking his lips nervously. His stomach was calm and, more importantly, pain-free. It was a fluke, he insisted to himself. The Mylanta had finally done its job, as simple as that. His "cure" had nothing to do with Emma Beckett and her so-called gentle touch. She was a mere child, after all.

Temporarily satisfied with the explanation, Principal Wittstock sat back down at his desk and returned to the business of running a school. After about an hour, he instinctively reached for the bottle of Mylanta.

He gave a short laugh as he threw the bottle in his trash can.