King of Locusts | ✔

Chapter 5

Just as suddenly as he was pushed under, Lunan was forced to the surface. He gasped for air and shot Heather a bewildered stare as he collected his breath.

"My God, you're so dramatic," she scoffed. Lunan opened his mouth to rebut her claim, but knew there was no point in explaining that she nearly made him pass out.

Her dismissal made his anger return in full force, his face darkening in rage and eyes flashing in malice. He stood rigidly and pinned Heather with a hateful glare. Her eyes and mouth widened before they narrowed haughtily, but for once, she took a step backwards.

"Don't look at me like that, freak," she warned, then glanced behind her. Lunan followed her gaze and noticed Heather's friends warily watching the exchange. She turned back to Lunan, her posture belying her bravado. She said another vague insult before returning to the safety of her friends.

Although he was no longer in immediate danger, Lunan's long-buried fury washed over him. He allowed the rage free reign, shuddering as the waves rocked through him. Even in his hometown where people were wary of his parents' religion, very few people mistreated him. He hated the loneliness he was forced to endure, hated the abuse, and hated the person at the center of his mistreatment. Lunan wanted Heather to feel his pain.

"Call us forth, master," Lunan heard a whispery voice.

"We will soothe your anger," added another.

Lunan glanced around himself surreptitiously, realizing that no one reacted to the voices. He stood transfixed as the multitude of spirits materialized before him and repeated themselves. Although he no longer trembled at their presence, seeing them still jarred him, especially since they were now capable of speech. Lunan shook his head slowly and hoped they would get the message. They eventually stopped talking to him, but they stood around him for the remainder of his time outside.

"Master?" Lunan mouthed as he and the other children went inside. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head firmly.

Later that day, Lunan overheard Heather and her friends talking about him during dinner.

"I've never seen anyone look like that," one of them said in a low voice. "He looked wicked."

"Like he really is the son of Satan," added another. "Maybe it's not a good idea to mess with him so much, Heather."

Lunan agreed with her, nodding into his spoonful of beef stew. His grip on the spoon tightened as Heather spoke.

"He can't hurt us, Emily. Demons are repelled by holy symbols."

"But what if that's not the case? What if he's normal like us?" Emily pressed. "You really hurt him, Heather. He could have suffocated."

Heather sneered. "Why do you care? Do you have a crush on him or something?"

"No!" she denied.

"He's not good! His parents worshipped the devil. We'd be better off if he passed out this morning," she said, her tone final. Emily stared at her, but refrained from commenting.

It was an exercise in self-control for Lunan to not launch his spoon at Heather. Her cruelty confounded him. As he listened to their exchange, Lunan realized that he had few choices in the matter. He could brush this incident aside like he did every other time, knowing the torment would continue so long as he resided at the orphanage, or he could take action and strike fear into Mary's pet.

I'm not normal, he admitted to himself, the reality both relieving and saddening him. Maybe it's about time I embrace it.

Lunan stayed awake that night as his bunkmates slept. He sat up in his bed, lit a candle with steady hands, focused on the spirits, and called them to him.

"Come here," he whispered sharply.

He watched as the flame shifted from orange to blue. The room grew cold and the multitude appeared, and he noticed that they formed faster than the first time he meditated. They swirled around him before settling and watched him with dull eyes.

"Can you make sure they stay asleep?" Lunan asked and gestured to his roommates.

In response, three of the spirits departed from the mass and stood by each boy's bunk. They placed translucent hands on the boys' ears, then shifted their gazes to Lunan.

He nodded his thanks. The weight of the actions he was about to do made him pause before addressing the mass. He couldn't imagine his parents being thrilled with him using magic in this manner.

"I tried. I kept to myself. I tried asking for help just to be ignored. Please don't be angry with me." He knew his parents weren't in the crowd, but it still eased Lunan to justify himself.

"I have a request. There's a girl at this orphanage named Heather McConnell, and she has tormented me since I arrived." Lunan spoke timidly at first, but his voice gained passion as he continued his entreaty.

"She has shamed my family, forced the others to isolate me, and threatened my life today. I want it to stop. Make her pay. Visit her dreams and haunt her during the day."

He hardly recognized his voice when he added, "I want you to multiply her pain, bring her nightmares, and give her misery."

A whispery chatter filled the air as the spirits processed the command. Lunan breathed slowly to calm himself. He knew he was angry, but was surprised at how deeply the bitterness ran.

"Thank you." The spirits disappeared as quickly as they arrived.

Lunan thought over what transpired as he crawled back to bed. He wish that he knew how and why he had a retinue of souls at his disposal. Maybe his parents withheld that Lunan already had access to magical abilities for his own sake. Had he summoned a bunch of dead people at a younger age, it would have terrified him. Yet another reason he wished his parents' spirits would guide him.

The following weeks were the quietest for Lunan since he arrived at the orphanage. Neither Heather nor her friends engaged with him. The spirits worked quickly. Whenever he looked at her, she had a troubled expression on her face, and her friends had to shake her from her stupors.

Heather's condition gradually deteriorated. Lunan observed her under eyes grow purple and noted her disheveled hair, a stark difference from the neat Dutch braids she usually wore. Her glassy gaze was distant, only disrupted by random moments when she shouted fearfully and glanced about her wildly, only Lunan knew they weren't random. He saw when the spirits would form in front of Heather. Sometimes they merely stared at her, and on other occasions, they tugged at her hair and whispered malice in her ears. Lunan struggled to watch during those moments. His guilt increased as Heather's friends gradually drifted from her, but he reminded himself that she brought this on herself.

Despite Heather's grip on the orphans diminishing along with her sanity, the children didn't treat Lunan any better, the exception being the ceased beatings. It was so habitual for them to fear and ignore him that the thought of opening up never occurred. Lunan even tried reaching out to people sometime after Heather's psychological break just to face a round of rejection similar to his first day at the orphanage. With that being a bust, his thoughts trailed back to Heather, and the vindictive thoughts resurfaced. It wouldn't be until two months later that Lunan finally reigned in the spirits.

Heather wasn't quite the same following the haunting, and some of her friends avoided her even as she exhibited signs of normalcy. Although she couldn't pin her breakdown to Lunan, she still listened to her gut and avoided interacting with him. Unfortunately for Lunan, one of her former friends was more than willing to carry the torch of unofficial leader during her absence. While this one didn't encourage his friends to assault Lunan, he  stillbullied, perpetuating his position as the orphan's pariah.

All-powerful command over the dead or not, ultimately, little changed concerning Lunan's reception at Higgins' Orphanage.

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