Scald-Crow 1: The Rocky Road To Whateley A Whateley Academy Tale by: ShadowedSin

High School is a living hell for Padraig, and his life is only made worse by bullying.
One night a powerful spirit offers him a deal, and his life is changed forever.
In a world where Superheroes and Villains are the norm, and mutants are hated by most of the populace
life get's complicated fast for our young hero.

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Chapter 2 - Striking a Deal

Afternoon, October 15th, 2007 - Lummi Island

Another Monday done and gone, and yet I already was not looking forward to the rest of my week.

The weekend went by too far for my tastes and left me wishing for it to come again faster than before. I groaned as I walked off the bus, and as I stepped onto the curb by the old casino the cool afternoon air hit my face. Somehow, for reasons I could not understand, the temperature had dropped a lot in the last two days. Maybe, it was some sort of a cold front or another storm. There had been a thunderstorm on Sunday night, and it'd woken me repeatedly. I was usually a heavy sleeper, but Sunday night just was not my night. I eventually put on my small TV in my room to will away my energy. Somehow I ended up watching an old episode of Battlestar Galactica playing on the SciFi channel.

That damn robotic dog monster would haunt me to the end of days.

My life was almost rinse and repeat - starting from the beginning to the end of the day. I eventually drifted off to sleep again before waking up to the loud screech of my alarm. I slapped it quiet and rolled out of bed. The cold of my painted cement floor instantly woke me up as I squeaked at the chill in my bare feet. A few loud curses later I was upstairs after getting dressed and ate my breakfast, the usual bowl of off-brand Cheerios. Rinse and repeat, and even class had been dreary to the point of blurring together. The end of today, broke the monotony as I was knocked out of my daydreaming in Algebra class by the bell. The cobwebs were knocked from my mind as I hurriedly jotted down the assignment for the night, and rushed to shove everything into my backpack. There was distinct giggling by two of my classmates as they mocked talking audibly about me and my constant daydreaming. Nothing these past few days seemed to stick.

I snapped my thoughts back to the here and now, letting the chill of the sea breeze stabilize my awareness. It all felt wrong, and the walk up to the dock felt longer than usual. Five minutes later the round shape of the ferry came into view. Its two-story-tall form strangely stuck to the open bowl-shaped hull of the car deck. A quick jaunt down the ramp onto the deck and I was in the crew cabin to wait before most of the other kids arrived. Finding a seat right by the table of the cabin I shrank into a corner to catch a small nap before the boat docked on the other side. Rumbling beneath me signaled the ferry's engine roaring to life, and just as my fellow students started their quiet chatter I zoned out for four wonderful minutes.

"Shit, hey Padraig, we gotta go!' one of the kids yelled at me as I rose and shook myself awake. Outside through the windows, I could see one of the deckhands signaling for the last of the cars to begin their exit up the ramp of the dock. Instantly, I was on my feet, and as I dragged myself out of my seat at the table I caught sight of something. Usually, the crew cabin was where the High School students from the Island went to get away from the cramped quarters of the passenger cabin. My place at the table was a prime spot, especially since it had a nice cushion to sit on. The table itself was usually covered in food and reading the material the ferry crew used to pass the time in between their runs.

What I saw was the headline "VISITING PROFESSOR FOUND DEAD!" in large black letters above a picture of a red-haired woman. It was only a short glance, and the kids shouted at me to hurry up. I snagged my backpack with one hand and slung it over my shoulder as was my habit. As I rushed out the door and onto the steel deck I was again hit by the chill sea wind.

I could hear one of the ferry crew ordering me off the boat as the rest of the kids were already halfway up. I hated last minute jogging and instead broke into a laggardly run to catch up.

Late Evening, October 15th, 2006 - Lummi Island

Mom gave me a ride home that afternoon, which was rare indeed. It was nice to see her in the front seat waiting in the green CRV checking the news on her Gizmatic Smartphone. I walked right up to the car, opened the door after hearing the telltale "thunk" of the car unlocking. My mom was in her forties and usually cut her hair above her shoulders. While reading a pair of glasses were perched on her nose as she sat there wearing an old Seahawks T-shirt and a pair of black leggings.

I told her a bit about the day, and she let me vent about my treatment at school. Mom was best described as particularly defensive of me and my sister. That's what happens when you grow up as a socially defunct child and had a sibling with a genetic disorder. As I thought about it while we drove and I later walked through my home's back door, she had nearly threatened to sue the Elementary school on the Island. The school district's response to my sister’s presumed issues was that she was a diabetic and didn't require that much assistance. For me, this meant I grew up drinking diet rather than sugar soda, and my family was always aware of the need for food.

"Go into the dining room, no TV until your homework is done," mom chided me as I began to unpack my work for the day. The book far heavier than any child should be able to carry made an audible thump as I placed it on the long tan table. An hour later I was on the twentieth problem working through each at a long boring pace. Math wasn't hard for me, I just didn't like it. The way the repetition was drilled into my skull every day in class and the hyperfocus on tests was irritating. I wished they used more real-world problems. Any of the word problems presented were usually so random I think they were written by a chimp with a typewriter. Glumly, I stood up and walked over to get something to drink when the eerie feeling of being watched.

"Help me," came the whisper behind me.

I whipped around and all I could see were the couch and the bay windows of my living room. Shaking my head I opened the fridge to retrieve some milk and decided to just return to work. Dinner would be served soon and I didn't want to have to eat and have homework to do! Another hour passed, and I could hear dad chatting with my sister about her day. Our kitchen was an extension of our massive living room and had a large cook-top built atop an island in the middle of the room. Giving up for the moment on work I joined my father and sibling in what they were talking about.

My dad, Eoin, can be described as the quintessential Irishman. He's got a friendly smile, closed thick curls on his head, and light blue eyes.

"What's for dinner?" I asked lazily, slumping against the dark granite counter.

"Rat on a stick, as always," he smiled. I glanced at my little sister, a dirty blonde girl of twelve, who was busily sketching something.

Let me give a very quick overview of how I appear. I'm about five foot three, and my little sister Sloan is just a head shorter. Her hair looks to be cut in a pixie style, and she was dressed in what can be best described as "hot topic" high fashion. A black t-shirt with "Nirvana" in big white letters and a pair of black pants fringed in red. She's round-faced and appears like my mom, and so she's the one with the brown eyes and pretty face. Me, I have a weak chin, and my nose upturned a little bit.

Most people assume we aren't related, especially with my dark brown hair and green eyes compared to her blonde locks. It made for a lot of awkward conversations when we walked home from the ferry dock.

"Fine, dad whatever," I sighed and returned to work. Just as I turned the corner to the dining room I smiled to see him preparing his famous teriyaki chicken for the day. I was hungry enough to eat half the pan, and just now I could feel that hunger growing. One long moment staring at the problem again, I heard my father announce dinner was ready.

"Dad, can you look at this problem and help me?" I asked as I walked over with the math book in hand.

"Sure, just get your dinner and remember to leave enough rice for your mother," I nodded before I sat down at the counter atop a barstool. Dad looked through the problem and walked me through the section confusing me. One thing I loved about my parents was they wouldn't hold my hand or do my work for me. They would have me do the problem so I would have the actual experience for it. The problem's completion freed me for the evening so I hugged Dad and proceeded to put away my work for the night.

My stomach growled loudly while I did, and my spine was starting to ache. Not my back, but my spine, and for some reason, all the muscles along my upper arm and my calf were hurting. Eating appeared to cause pain to calm for a moment before it flared up once again. I set aside my dish for the night before walking it down the stairs to my basement room. The pain increased with each step, going from my calves down into my ankles and up into my thighs. I whined a little drawing the attention of one of our dogs, a large Newfie mix named Jasmine, who nuzzled my side. My hands flew to her head as I fell to my knees to give her ears a good strong scratch.

I didn't say anything to her, just reveled in how her concern made me feel a bit less focused on the pain. By the time I was ready for the night, I found whatever energy in me completely drained. As I laid back and closed my eyes I winced as pain exploded across my forehead. Heated agony crawled up my arms and bit my shoulders. 

Evening, October 17th, 2007 - The Dreamscape

My eyes opened, and I felt a cool breeze tickling my body. Instantly I felt an absolute disconnect between my body and my self awareness. I looked down at myself and noticed my form was covered in strange clothing. How would I describe it? My feet were encased in a pair of soft leather boots, I wore a pair of leggings, and a long dark green tunic as a top. Instantly, I was reminded of how I always thought of people in Middle Earth dressing and my tunic came to mind. On the chest was a single black bird, something shaped like a crow. Around my hips was a cinched thick belt.

So I guess I was in some sort of fantasy dream. I mean on the one hand, I was in a very realistic dream, one where I not only felt the chill of the evening breeze, but I could feel the soft wet ground of the moss beneath my boots.

"This isn't you," I heard behind me, and I whipped around to see who spoke to me.

What met my gaze was a woman far taller than I was. She was from my guess at least six foot tall, and towered over me. Her face was heart shaped, and even as I took a step back away from her she grimaced at me. Unlike my tunic the woman was wearing a dress, one the color of soot. It was the sort of dress you'd expect Queen Guinivere to wear in Camelot. The general bodice of the dress fit her chest snugly and was held around her waist by a silver belt. What made me think of King Arthur was the sleeves of the dress, they wound to her wrists and then draped down. I was confused and found myself staring at her chest before she clucked to regain my attention.

"Sa, tis is wha I'm suppose ta work wit?" her accent was Irish, I think, and her voice was melodic to my ears.

"Um...who are you?" I asked and found myself trembling as she leaned back and let out a loud roaring laugh.

"Oh tat's good lass," she spoke and rubbed her nose, "Tats very good!"

"Lass?" I inferred. Was she messing with me? I mean she couldn't possibly know-

"O' carse I do! Yer hallow beats with yer true self lass, and even now yer dreamself changes ta fit it!" Her voice seemed to carry as I looked down at myself and gasped, My hips were wider, and I saw the distinctive bump of breasts beneath my tunic. I gazed up at her and felt a million questions coming to mind.

"I need ye lass, I hate ta say tis, but I had no choice bu' ta enter yer hallow before I could ask," she leaned toward me and caught my chin. It was almost motherly in how she caressed my jaw.

"What's a hallow?" I said as I felt myself in a daze.

"I can't describe it, but do you want ta be a girl? A real girl?" she asked me and I just watched her in awe.

"Um...yeah I meant I feel so wrong that my soul hurts! I wish I had hair like yours, and I was strong as you look," I gushed a little. My voice was a rush of emotion and stuttered as I tried to understand this cruel joke she was playing on me.

"I can make it happen, but I hafta exact a price from ye," she said darkly. Releasing my chin from her grasp she turned and faced away. It was then I saw the dream landscape around us begin to come clearer into focus. All around us was open bogland, or moors, or even winding hills. Whatever it was, it was green, and open to clear blue sky. Before the woman was a single tall grey stone. I stumbled toward it and shuffled past the woman as I found myself rushing over to press my hand to the stone. Taller than me and her, the stone was covered in dark green moss, and was half-sunk into the ground. Three feet from the ground a rivet was cut into it's surface and it steadily spiraled inward.

"The spiral, the eternity, this is where I was honored, a place where no one thinks to walk," she said, and I realized how completely deserted the land around us was.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Yer dreams lass, but also a place in memory," she padded over and placed her hand in mine.

"After the Great War, I awoke and bonded to a woman named Moira O'Reilly. During the second World War we fought in Europe and she was slain. But before she died, she introduced me to my next Draoi, or Druid, Christine. Each generation, I have found a new host, and we fought any who sought to sow chaos and sorrow in their wake." Her words enchanted me as she spoke. I canted my head to look at her, and I could see how deeply sorrow was etched into her face.

"At first each Druid was slain by happenstance," she stated before gritting her teeth in front of me. "Then recently, an assassin came for Sinéad my beloved. They killed her and I do not know WHY!"

She whipped around to show me something and four women appeared before us. First, was a woman dressed in the fatigues of a British Soldier: a round helmet, khaki green jacket and pants. Her hair was bright red, and a smattering of freckles covered her face. The second woman was a brunette with bright green eyes, and she was wearing the clothes of a nurse from the nineteen forties. A third sat there looking me over while crossing her arms. Unlike the other two she was grim and wore dated nineteen seventies fatigues with combat boots, and a black bomber jacket.

"Moira, Christine, Jenny now...now I've lost Sinéad," her voice cracked and I could only reach up to place my hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"I don't know what I've done, all I did was rest, and lend them my voice, and my strength," she stopped before she used a sharp dismissive gesture to make the images of the women disappear.

"I've been bullied all my life, and I'm terrified of what could happen if I actually out myself," I squeaked by the spirit woman's side. Her hand snaked along mine and I looked up at her."I offer again lass, I can make you a real girl, I can make you stronger and give you the power to fight back," she said I could hear there was a "but" in there somewhere.

"But, you need me, just like them, you need me as your host, right?" I asked, "You have to possess me."

"It's nothin' like tat girl, but it would mean ye would be hunted like the others," she said and slowly knelt in front of me.

"I mean...there are heros out there, and villains like Reaper...and Miss Astarte." I remembered watching a video once as a child, and seeing the power of the heroine as she utterly smashed a villain trying to use a bus of children as a sacrifice. The woman's hands rested on my shoulders, and I felt her hands knot fists in my tunic.

"I no longer wish to rest, and hide. I want to make them pay for killing my daughters, and for hunting me," her voice was a whisper to my ear.

"I'm Irish and Swedish, my mom always talks about the rage of her family. And I swear my dad is a leprechaun. I don't mind being in danger, if it means I can finally take hold of my destiny in my own hands." My little speech was one I had thought about at length, and one I had harbored longer than the words came to mind. Growing up I saw myself not as the knight in shining armor, but the defiant princess who led her people to victory. Of the daughter who made her parents proud, and who spoke up for the wrongness of the world. That's when I felt it, a bone deep anger I had ignored for so long.

The woman's eyes widened, and I shook a little as I grit my teeth to control it. My rage wasn't for just bullying, but was for the way people had treated me at the notion of being "gay". Of trying to tell me that being queer was not just bad, but was a sin. Never in my life had I done a thing to these people, and yet I knew they would hurt me if I hinted at being a trans girl.

"That's what drew me to ye, yer anger lass," she said, "And I agree. There are ta many tings rotting around ye."

I nodded in agreement.

"Sa what do ye say daughter of Eoin, do ye accept me offer?" she asked and offer me her hand.

"Aye, I do," I responded and I gripped her hand in my own. Suddenly, a burst of fiery emotion swept over me and the vision around me turned to black.