A Fractured Light (19 page)

“Kiddo, I don’t know if promising is going to do you any good at this point. You may just have to sit this one out.”

I’d come this close. I was almost there.
No
, I thought as the bus drove us back to school. I couldn’t let that happen.

The race was too important to miss. I’d sprained my ankle skiing before—and it had healed quickly, miraculously, even. But this time, I couldn’t go to Devin, or anyone else, for help.

Maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe I needed to figure it out on my own.

Chapter 23

I
drove home from practice slowly. There was no way I could sit out the race tomorrow. Not only would it mean forfeiting the title of captain to Ellie—something I was determined not to let happen—but the race was an important milestone. It was all supposed to come together for me tomorrow on the slopes, and the thought of being forced out by injury brought angry tears to my eyes. I wiped them away with the back of one hand, gripping the steering wheel in the other.

When I pulled into the driveway, I cut the engine and began to hobble toward the house. But halfway there, I stopped. I couldn’t let anyone see how badly I’d hurt my ankle. Aunt Jo would be concerned and fuss around me. Asher would be worried—but for different reasons.

If he saw me limping tonight, he would inevitably want to know how my ankle had suddenly healed come tomorrow. And then I was going to have to explain just how strong my powers of the light really were. I knew he wanted me to be as powerful as possible, but still, if he was looking for reasons not to trust me, that was as clear a sign
as any.

Because that’s what I was planning to do. Harness my ability to heal. I was determined to do it, and yet the idea of doing something so powerful terrified me. I’d only ever tried and failed. What if I messed up and ruined my ankle forever?

I pushed open the front door with my shoulder and tried to keep the weight off my ankle. Low voices carried from the kitchen, and I immediately got a strange premonition of the scene I was about to walk in on. When I threw my bag down in the hall, the voices stopped talking abruptly. “I’m home!” I called.

“In the kitchen!” Aunt Jo shouted.

The scene did not disappoint. She and Asher sat across the kitchen table from each other, in uncomfortable silence. Asher’s foot was tapping wildly against the floor, and he was squinting at her with a weird, uneasy look on his face. She was staring into a mug of coffee.

“You two having quality bonding time?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the awkwardness.

Asher jumped up when he saw me come in.

“Oh, no, please sit,” I said, smiling obliviously on purpose. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Careful not to limp or wince, I walked stiffly to the table and fell into a chair between them. “So,” I said, “what are we talking about?”

“Aunt Jo was about to show me baby pictures of you.”

“Wait,” I said, sitting bolt upright. “What? Is this what happens when you guys hang out without me?”

“He’s kidding, Skye,” Aunt Jo said, cracking a careful smile. “We were talking about your race tomorrow. We’ll both be there.”

I gulped. “Yay,” I said halfheartedly.

“How are you feeling about it?” Asher asked. The look in his eyes implied he wasn’t just talking about my time to beat.

“Good,” I said, giving him a meaningful look. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” Aunt Jo said, much too enthusiastically.

“I think,” I added.

“You’re strong, Skye.” Asher’s voice was low and serious. “You’re ready. You know you can do this.”

I looked at him gratefully. It felt so good to know he believed in me that much. I reached out and grasped his hand. He grinned.

Aunt Jo cleared her throat. “You must be famished, hon,” she said. “I’ll heat up some leftovers.”

I turned to Asher. “Want to go out back while we’re waiting?”

He nodded, squeezing my hand in his.

“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes,” Aunt Jo warned.

“Can Asher stay for dinner?” I asked.

“Yeah?” he said eagerly. “Can I stay? I’ve been dreaming about your lemon bars every night.”

She looked like she might be about to give in. Then Asher smiled his charming smile at her, and her face hardened.

“Oh, not tonight. Skye needs her rest! Besides, Asher, you’re over here so often, I bet your parents are wondering if we kidnapped you.” Asher’s smile faded into a scowl, and his eyebrows knocked together.

“No,” he said. “I doubt they’re thinking that.”

“Well, either way, I think we’ll all call it a night early tonight—okay?” She looked at me pointedly.

“Fine,” I muttered. I took Asher’s hand, and we walked out onto the deck. It was excruciating to put all of my weight on my ankle, but I couldn’t let him know anything was wrong. I tried to smile through the pain.

Once we were alone outside, Asher laced his fingers through mine and kissed me. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked. I nodded. And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have told him just then.

The sky had faded from dusk to darkness, and it looked like someone had flung up a handful of stars like confetti. I breathed deep and closed my eyes. Asher stepped closer to me, squeezing my hands softly in his and bringing my arms around his waist. I nestled into him and felt him shiver under my touch.

“You don’t feel any warmer,” he said. “Not like you usually do. You okay with this?” His voice was low and scratchy and familiar and thrilling all at once. Though my eyes were closed, I could feel my energy focusing, the stars move above me, forming constellations, rearranging themselves.

“Fine,” I said.

He moved closer still, and my breath grew shallow as I struggled to maintain control of my powers.

“And this?” he whispered, lowering his face until his lips were barely grazing mine. My skin grew warm, and I could feel the pain flare up in my ankle, shooting through the rest of me. I let out a sharp gasp, and Asher stepped away quickly.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Skye!” Aunt Jo called, too loudly, from the doorway. “Dinner!”

“Crap,” I muttered.

“Come
on
,” I heard Asher groan under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

I looked up at him and ran my thumb along his chin. “See you tomorrow?” I asked.

“Count on it.” He jogged down the stairs of the deck to the field below, and before my eyes could adjust, I’d lost him in the darkness.

As I turned around to go inside, I glanced upward. The stars had arranged themselves into a tiny heart. I smiled to myself, suppressing the pain in my ankle, and went inside for dinner.

While Aunt Jo was clearing the dishes, I hobbled frantically to the downstairs bathroom. There was no way I could climb the stairs to my room just yet. I locked the door behind me, sat down on the lid of the toilet, and brought my foot up onto my knee.

Okay
, I thought.
You can do this.
I tried to remember what Devin had done to me when I was in the infirmary after the avalanche. He’d wrapped both hands around my ankle, and the pain had flared up, fantastically intense before subsiding into nothingness.

I wrapped my own hands around my ankle. I closed my eyes and tried to let the energy flow through my fingertips. What had Asher told me that very first night we’d kissed in my room?

Just pretend that everything inside you is lots of unfiltered electricity. Imagine what you want to do with it. And then imagine flipping a switch—and turning it on.

With my eyes still closed, I focused on the energy, curling it up into a ball of light in my hands.
Flip the switch
, I thought.

The ball of light grew brighter and more vibrant as I held it steady. I brought it toward my ankle and spread it over the pain, like a salve. I directed every ounce of energy I had, flowing through the tips of my fingers, and suddenly I felt an intense pain flair up in my leg, blinding, overwhelming. A white-hot flash burned through me. “Ow,” I gasped, hoping Aunt Jo couldn’t hear me.

And then, just like that, the pain faded away. A cooling relief tingled up from my ankle, flooding through the rest of my body. I tried to catch my breath.

I had done it! My ankle felt fine—
better
than fine. Amazing.

“Skye?” Aunt Jo called. “You feel okay, hon?”

“Fine!” I called. I danced around silently. It had worked! I’d healed
myself.
I looked up into the bathroom mirror, and my eyes flashed silver and intense. For once, I didn’t look away or feel uncomfortable. I didn’t wish that they were just a normal gray like anyone else’s. I was proud of what my silver eyes meant. My light and dark powers had woven together, to help me when I needed them. I’d drawn on them both to fix what was broken. And now I was ready. Ready to fight, to win, to take utter control of who I was. I wasn’t afraid of my powers anymore.

I went to turn the doorknob when my mind suddenly went blank, and I found myself, once again, walking down the darkened upstairs hallway. I managed to stay upright, to let the wisp of a vision flow through me. The door to Aunt Jo’s bedroom loomed at the end of the hall. Empty.

And then I was back in the downstairs bathroom again, my hand still gripping the doorknob. Devin’s last words to me echoed in my mind.

Did it ever occur to you that your visions might be telling you something important? What if they’re not just dreams? What if what you’re seeing is the future?

My hand gripped the doorknob tighter, so tight that my knuckles were turning white. The blood drained from my face.

“Not prophecies,”
he’d said.
“The Sight.”

My mind spun and my heart raced. As I turned the knob and slipped out into the hall, the sound of water and dishes clattering echoed from the kitchen. Now was my chance. The upstairs hallway would be dark. Aunt Jo’s bedroom, empty.

With the noise from the kitchen as my cover, I tiptoed up the stairs. If I strained my ears, I could just hear her humming softly as she worked. I’d seen this happen before. When she started singing, it meant she was lost in thought, her mind shut off from the rest of the world.

I had only a couple of minutes, if I was lucky.

I moved quickly and silently up the stairs and down the hall, the memory of my vision blurring with reality.

I glanced to my right, at the door to my bedroom, which was slightly ajar. Light spilled out into the dark hallway, illuminating my path. To my left was the bathroom. The door was open and the lights were off. I peeked over the railing of the stairs. The whole house was dark and silent.
Directly ahead of me was her bedroom.

I walked toward it, as if pulled by an invisible string. The walls on either side of me were smooth under my hands as I let them guide me in the semidarkness.

The door to Aunt Jo’s bedroom wasn’t closed all the way.

I pushed it open, carefully, silently, and turned on the light.

Her room was empty.

As I knew it would be.

The bed was unmade. Clothes were draped over the chair in the corner. I turned toward the closet.

Slowly, slowly, I reached my hand out to open it.

I knew what I was looking for.

In the corner of the closet, I spotted the stepladder. Downstairs, I heard the rush of water from the faucet in the kitchen sink. I didn’t have much time.

I climbed onto it, peering over the shelves above my head. That’s where I spotted it.

The shoe box. The same one from my vision. The one I’d been looking for.

As if time was moving in slow motion, I opened the lid. . . .

I sat down on the floor of the closet and peered inside. With hands that trembled slightly, I picked up a small velvet box, and opened it to find a glittery diamond ring. I snapped the lid shut and moved on to the next artifact—an old photograph, yellowing slightly at the edges from weathering years inside a shoe box in a closet. In the photo, a couple leaned against a tree, oblivious to the camera. His hair was dark and wild, and his head was tilted down toward hers, as if they were sharing a secret—or were about to kiss. The woman smiled up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkled in laughter. Blond wisps of hair had come loose from her ponytail and were blowing in the wind.

Wait a minute.

I looked closer. The woman was Aunt Jo!

I squinted to inspect the guy. He was gorgeous in a dangerous sort of way, that was undeniable. But there was also something familiar about him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

I put the photograph back and moved on to the next item in the box. A stack of papers were tied together with a piece of fishing twine. I lifted them out of the shoe box and carefully undid the knot. The pages all had jagged edges, as if someone had ripped them hastily from a notebook.
The missing pages.
My throat was dry, and as the twine fell away, I realized what I felt was more than just the thrill of discovery. I was nervous—nervous that what I was about to read contained some valuable clue to a past that had forever seemed so hidden from me.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the quiet little closet, I could hear my heart beating. Its rhythm grew faster as I stared down at the first page. It was filled with the same looping handwriting I’d been staring at every night, in the notebook that was now hiding underneath my pillow. My handwriting. My mother’s.

My eyes welled with years of grief. The words sprawled across the page as if speaking directly to me.