Blood of the Devil

Chapter 21 - Pontius Principal

Mickey lunged to his feet, dashing away from them.

Hadrian rose, hands in the air. "What happened?"

Letha was watching the ground, enjoying the sound of each stone's impact. When one slammed into a leather jogger, her glare shifted to a smirking face.

"What did the dirt ever do to you?"

Eyeing the remaining rocks in her palm, Letha took a deep breath. "Nothing." Drawing back her arm, she threw all four at him. Three flew harmlessly past him, but the last hit him on the forehead, cutting the skin as he let out a yelp.

"You on the other hand..."

Mickey's tanned fingers rubbed his forehead, smearing the blood, and he frowned at her. "Ow."

Grinding her teeth, Letha swung her legs over the branch she was perched on, turning her back to him. He snorted, ducking under a lower branch to meet her angry gaze again.

"What was that..."

A crackle came over the speaker, and Mickey's head jerked towards the school.

"Letha Antitheus to the office please, Letha Antitheus to the office."

With a sigh, Letha slipped from the tree, bending into a squat as she landed to absorb the impact. Straightening slowly, she sneered at Mickey.

"Well, places to go," She strode off, "people to see."

She wasn't surprised when footsteps followed hers, but she was still annoyed.

"I'll just keep you company."

As the pair walked to the office, students stopped and stared, whispering to their friends when Mickey and Letha passed. She kept her expression ferocious, strong, but Mickey was looking around in bemusement.

"Why are they watching us?" he asked quietly, a frown slowly creasing his brow.

"Not us," Letha hissed, snarling at no one in particular, "me. You're just Simon."

Mickey cast her a dubious look. "I'm Michael. Please, at least try..."

She cut him off. "Simon of Cyrene, the man who carried Jesus' Cross. I've been sentenced to death, they hope, so they stand by, jeering and cheering, even at you since you dare join me on my walk of shame."

"I thought I was the religious one," Mickey mumbled, hiding a grin.

As they came to the door, Letha rested her hand on the wood, swinging her head to look at him. Mickey thought she almost looked sad. Almost. She took a deep breath, blinking slowly, and when she opened her eyes, she spoke.

"The farmer can grow spinach," she breathed, "But he doesn't have to like it."

"And you're the spinach farmer who hates spinach?" Mickey asked, slightly confused but smiling.

Letha grinned like a maniac, eyes wide and bright in the dim hallway light. "You bet your arse I am."

Pushing forward, she stepped into the office, glaring at the plump secretary who picked up the phone. Flicking on the intercom, she muttered into the handset. Mickey followed the teenager into the room, rolling his eyes at her audacity, and smiling at Mrs Welk. As the door opened again behind them, Mickey turned.

"Dr John," he smiled, offering his hand again.

The psychologist's head lurched up, and a mirroring grin replaced his frown. "Michael. What an unfortunate turn of events to see you here. Again." They shook, and Mickey chuckled.