Haven (26 page)

“Is that why you disappear sometimes?” He’d been gone for two full days last week. Gone, with no word, no message. I’d assumed he’d been caught up in his work.

He nodded, releasing my hand to rub the reddened spot on his arm. “Some reactions are worse than others. Normally I wait till I’m in my room to inject it. But this time I was so sure . . .” He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Anyway, I thought you had practice.”

“I did. Canceled. How can you be sure it isn’t working?” I glanced back down at the needle. “I mean, would you notice right away?”

“I take a blood sample.” He tipped his head toward a microscope on the table beside us. There was a glass slide still sitting beneath the lens, a bright splotch of red on it. “I already checked.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. “Oh, well.”

He said nothing in reply, just continued sitting there staring at the table. I’d never seen him look so down, so defeated.

“You’ll get it right someday, Aidan. Soon,” I added.

He rose from his seat. “You should go. I’m going to work on this a little more tonight, see if I can make a few changes in the formula and try again.”

“I’ve got some homework to do, anyway,” I said, even though I’d pretty much finished it all during study hour. He was clearly in no mood for company. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep. Don’t stay in here all night, okay?”

He shook his head. “I’m not making any promises. It’s not like the lack of sleep is going to
kill
me.”

I rolled my eyes in frustration. “You’re impossible.”

His gaze met mine, steady and insistent now. “Maybe, but now I’ve got more reason than ever to get this right.”

Tears burned behind my eyelids. “I know. I want this as much as you do, Aidan.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” He leaned toward me and kissed me on the forehead.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumbled, hoping I could make it out the door before the tears began to fall.

I
t was Valentine’s Day. In case you somehow managed to forget, there were red streamers and little cupid cutouts all over the dining hall—you know, subtle reminders. I shook my head in amazement. The holiday committee had really gone above and beyond the call of duty.

“What is that?” Kate asked, glancing down at my plate.

“Chicken salad,” I said, pushing aside the half-eaten sandwich. “I think they put red food coloring in it.” Instead of looking festive, it just looked gross. I’d taken two bites, but couldn’t stomach the rest.

“That’s disgusting,” Kate said. “I think I’m going to hit the salad bar today.”

“Yeah, me too.” Cece traipsed off after her, leaving me, Sophie, and Marissa alone at the table.

“So, are you and Aidan going to the dance tonight?” Sophie asked.

“Yep.” I opened a bag of chips. “For a little while, at least. Are you going with Jack’s friend? What’s his name, Ben?”

Sophie sighed. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like anyone else asked me.”

“You could have asked someone else,” Marissa offered. “If there’s someone you’d rather go with, that is.”

“Does this mean you asked Dean to go with you?” Sophie launched back. Everyone knew that Marissa was crushing on Dean Wilson, a senior who was an empath, like her.

“Course not.” Marissa reached for my bag of chips and helped herself. “I like to play hard to get.”

“I’m going to get another Coke,” I said, pushing back from the table.

“Hey, get me a Diet Coke, will you?” Marissa asked.

Nodding, I stood and headed toward the fountain drinks. I had to pass the table of so-called shifters, and I couldn’t help but steal a peek at them, trying to see if I could recognize the guy who had been terrorized by the obnoxious jock back before Christmas break.

There he was, at the end of the table. Kind of small, with
a shock of blond hair that fell across his forehead. Our eyes met briefly before I looked away, my cheeks suddenly burning. He’d seen Aidan’s eyes; he knew too much. I continued on toward the drinks, trying not to think about it.

“Hey, Violet, isn’t it?”

I spun around, and the shifter guy was right there beside me. “Yeah, um, hi,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

“I never got to thank you,” he said, his brown eyes earnest. “You know, for that night.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” I waved one hand dismissively. “It was no big deal.”

“Yeah, it was, actually. No one here ever stands up for my kind. Besides, Scott was wasted and who knows what he might have done to both of us if your boyfriend hadn’t shown up when he did. Anyway,” he went on, “I’m Joshua. And if I can ever do anything for you—you know, return the favor somehow . . . well, I owe you one. You and Aidan.”

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat, wondering how much he’d seen that night. Just the eyes, or the fangs, too? “I mean, I really appreciate the offer, and I, uh, I’ll tell Aidan.”

“Cool. Later, then,” he said with a nod. Again, our eyes met and held for a fraction of a second. There was something honest about his gaze—something reassuring. No matter what he’d seen, he wouldn’t betray us. I don’t know how I knew it,
but I did. Joshua was a friend, an ally. I had come to his aid when no one else would, and now he would come to mine, if need be.

I took a deep breath before continuing on, feeling my friends’ eyes on me the whole time. They were going to want to know what we’d talked about, and I’d have to come up with something plausible. I just hoped they weren’t going to make any snide remarks about the shifters, because frankly I wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. Maybe it was time to tell them how I really felt about their prejudices where the shifters were concerned.

Feeling emboldened, I got the drinks and headed back toward the table. Cece and Kate had returned and taken their seats, and everyone looked up at me expectantly as I settled back into my chair.

“So,” Marissa drawled. I knew she’d be first. “What was that shifter freak saying to you?”

I felt myself flush as I handed Marissa her Diet Coke. “First of all, his name is Joshua,” I bit out. “Second of all, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him a freak. Or any of them, for that matter.”

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” Kate asked as she speared a cucumber slice.

“Nothing.” I sighed heavily. “It’s just that I don’t really like
the way y’all talk about them. The shifters, I mean. It’s not like they did anything to you. Can’t you just leave them be?”

“You have to admit, it’s a little freaky,” Sophie said. “I mean, c’mon, they’re shape-shifters!”

“How is that any more freaky than what the rest of us can do? Where’s your compassion?”

Marissa stared at me like I’d grown two heads or something, her catlike eyes narrowed to slits. “Is there something going on with you and this Joshua dude?”

“No, of course not. He’s just a . . . a friend,” I sputtered. “I barely even know him.”

“Maybe he’d like to get to know
you,
” Kate said, raising her brows suggestively. “Give Aidan some competition.”

“Actually, that’s not such a bad idea,” Marissa said. “Keep Aidan on his toes, and all that. I just think you could do better than a shifter—”

“I’ll see y’all later,” I said, standing up abruptly and reaching for my tray.

Cece rose too. “Hey, I’ll come with you.”

I couldn’t even meet her eyes. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got . . . I’m meeting Aidan before fourth period.”

I wasn’t really meeting Aidan, but I had to get away from them—all of them. I’d spend some time in my room before my next class, banging things around till I felt better.

They were all staring at me as I stomped off, but I didn’t care. It was Valentine’s Day, my first Valentine’s Day with a serious boyfriend—or any kind of boyfriend, for that matter. I wanted to enjoy it, to savor it, no matter how weird things were between Aidan and me at the moment.

For today, at least, we were going to act like normal teenagers, doing normal teenage stuff. Exchanging cards. Going to a dance. I’d bought a cute little lavender baby-doll dress over the holidays—one that looked great with black leggings and boots. After dinner I planned to take a long, hot shower, paint my nails, take my time with my makeup—all normal “getting ready for a date” stuff.

Hours later I was doing exactly as I’d planned, primping in front of the mirror. Cece was doing the same.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened at lunch,” she said, turning toward me with an eyelash curler clamped on one eye. “I don’t really like it when they talk that way either. I’ve just never had the guts to say anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a shrug, trying to decide between plum or brown eye shadow.

“I didn’t even realize you knew any of them.”

“Only Joshua, and just barely,” I said, deciding to go with plum. “But I don’t understand why everyone has to pick on them all the time. It’s not like they can help it.”

“No more than I can help the projecting. I don’t get it either, not really. I guess . . . I don’t know. There’s always some group that gets picked on, though, isn’t there? Geeks, dorks, Goths, whatever.”

She was right, but that didn’t make it okay. I’d never pick on a Goth, so why would I pick on a shape-shifter?

Fifteen minutes later everyone was gathered in our room, exclaiming over outfits and hairstyles, pretending like the scene at lunch had never happened. I was zipping up my boots when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Cece called out, and Kate helped her by opening up the door—from across the room, of course.

The room went entirely silent as we all looked up and saw Jenna Holley standing there, looking gorgeous, as usual. She must have been six feet tall, thin but not too skinny, with high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Her hair was a mix of brown and gold—expensive highlights. Everything about Jenna looked expensive, even her clingy black halter dress.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec, Violet?” she said, as if we were friends or something.

As if perfectly synchronized, everyone’s head swung around toward me, waiting for my reply.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I finished zipping up my boot, and made my way over to the door.

I felt her gaze sweep from the top of my head down to my toes, as if she was appraising me. “Never mind. I just . . . here,” she said, holding something out to me. “I’m supposed to give you this. From Aidan.”

I let her drop whatever it was into my hand, and then she turned and walked away.

“Well, that was weird,” someone said behind me, and then the door slammed shut on its own.

I don’t know why, but I felt a little queasy, my heart beating too fast for comfort as I turned around to face them.

“Well, what is it?” Cece asked, coming to stand next to me.

Completely bewildered, I opened my fingers and stared down at what lay in my palm.

All the air left my lungs in a rush. It was a painting, a little miniature painting set in filigreed gold. An antique, I was sure of it. And the woman in the painting . . .

Oh. My. God.

It was me. At least, it looked just like me. Same light brown hair, same green eyes, same smile. Only she was wearing clothes like nothing I’d ever seen, not in this century, or the one before.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned it over, somehow knowing exactly what I’d find on the back. One word:
Isabel.
Written in old-fashioned black script. It was Isabel, Aidan’s Isabel, and she looked just like
me
.

“What is it?” Cece asked again, taking it from me as I sank to the bed, too stunned to say a word.

“That’s weird. It’s like a painting of you, in costume or something.” She turned it over, just as I had. “I wonder why it says ‘Isabel’? Maybe she’s the artist or something?”

Everyone else had gathered around her—Marissa, Kate, Sophie. They were all examining it, passing it around, almost as if they’d forgotten my presence there.

“But why would Aidan give it to Jenna to give to Violet?” Marissa asked, her voice loud above the din. “Why not give it to her himself?”

Finally Cece turned toward me. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke or something!”

Bile rose in my mouth, and I swallowed it down, gagging as I did so. How could he keep something like this from me?

Because he doesn’t care about you,
my mind answered.
He never did. He’s using you. Because you look like her.

What other explanation was there?

“I don’t feel very well,” I mumbled.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked, reaching for my hand.

No!
No, I didn’t need her diagnosing me, not right now.

“I’ll be okay. Just . . . go on, all of you. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“No, I’ll stay with you,” Cece said. “Sophie, can you tell Todd?”

“No. Please. I swear, I’m fine. I just . . . I need to be alone right now, okay?”

“No way,” Cece said, meeting my gaze with her own determined one. “Go on, everyone. Out. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Mercifully, they obeyed.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Cece turned toward me. “What’s going on, Violet? And don’t lie to me, I know it has something to do with that picture.”

I sat back down on the bed, wishing I could disappear, wishing that a vision would come—anything, to get me out of this.

I swallowed hard before I spoke. “Cece, you’ve got to trust me on this, okay? You’re my best friend, and I feel awful about it, but there are some things about Aidan—about Aidan and me—that I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to,” I said quickly, seeing her eyes darken, “but because I really, really can’t. They’re not . . . not my secrets to tell.” Hadn’t Aidan said something like that about Jenna?

“Has he done something to you? Has he hurt you or—”

“It’s nothing like that, Cee. It’s just private, that’s all. I can’t explain it, but this picture—well, I need to talk to him. Now.”

“You’re scaring me, Violet,” Cece said, her bottom lip trembling. “After what happened with Allison—”

“This is nothing like that, and I promise you I’m not going anywhere, okay? Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Cece was probably the best friend I’d ever had, and I couldn’t even tell her half of what was going on in my life. It wasn’t fair!