Alight The Peril (3 page)

Just yesterday, I bumped into Andy Jones during morning break. Literally rammed into his chest, distracted because Mason was telling me a story through our link about his brother’s antics. When I looked up and realized who I’d crashed into, I flashed back to the cove and my “date” with Andy after he’d eaten a bunch of my bake sale goodies. And his subsequent dumping of me for Sophie days later. Cringe. The old Corinne would have pretty much died on the spot. But I didn’t even mumble or blush. I kept walking like it was nothing.

It seemed like I’d aged about a hundred years since the bake sale. At some point in the past few weeks, a vague sensation of dread had settled like a dull ache at the base of my neck.

Hey.
Mason’s voice whispered through my mind.
Okay if I come in?

Sure.
I scooted over to the wall to make room for him.

I heard the soft click of the deadbolt, and the basement door swished open and shut. Mason slipped into my bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and settled next to me. His upper arm pressed against mine, and I inhaled the spicy-wood-vanilla scent of his soap.

Couldn’t sleep either?
I asked.

Huh-uh. Got a lot on my mind
.

Yeah, tell me about it.

Want to practice the thought-blocking thing?
he asked after a few seconds.

Sure.
I squeezed my eyes shut and formed the image of a room with foot-thick concrete walls in my mind. I figured I might as well try Mason’s trick one more time. The room in my mind nearly rang with silence; it was so well insulated from the world that no sound could penetrate. I pictured a small window in one wall, made of four layers of bulletproof and soundproof glass. Then I placed myself in the middle of the room and started chanting the alphabet in my mind.

. . . C, D, E, F, G . . .
Mason chanted with me.

Darn it!
I screeched through our link, and he winced.
Sorry. . . . I really thought I had it that time.

Nice safe room,
he said, and I scowled.

What should I do? Different mental image?
I seriously needed help. It kind of sucked to try to master a skill no one else had, or would even believe if you tried to explain it. It wasn’t like I could just go search for instructions on a how-to website.

I think you need to not try quite so hard.

That’s . . . not exactly helpful,
I said.

No, really.
Mason shifted on the bed a little, and his arm moved away from mine. My skin cooled in the absence of his body heat.
When you try to be that rigid, it makes the edges of your mind . . . I don’t know, brittle or something. The more rigid you are, the easier it is to find little cracks.

I raised my eyebrows.
Huh. So you think I need a barrier that’s more flexible, maybe?

Yeah, try that.

I thought for a moment. What was a flexible, but impermeable barrier? My brother’s drysuit, the one he wore over his clothes to go wakeboarding in the spring when the water in Tapestry Lake was barely above freezing.

Okay, here goes.
I took a deep breath and imagined a thick layer of drysuit surrounding my mind like an insulating bubble, and I started singing the happy birthday song. When I reached the end of the song and Mason remained silent, I grinned in triumph.

“It worked, didn’t it?” I said.

Yeah, it must have. Nice work! Oh, but my birthday’s not ‘til October, you know.

I smacked his arm and groaned. “Ugh, why?
Why
can’t I learn this?”

“You’ll get it eventually.”

“If by eventually you mean never, then I agree with you.” So annoying. It drove me nuts that Mason picked up thought-blocking so easily.

“Wanna see something cool?” He asked after a minute.

“Sure.” I looked at him expectantly in the dark room, but didn’t see anything.

Then, there it was. Mason was glowing. It was as though a faint, warm light had illuminated just beneath his skin.

I sat up. “Shut . . . the . . . front . . . door!” My voice sounded harsh compared to our silent exchanges through our link. “How are you doing that? It’s like you’re a human firefly!”

Mason’s laugh rumbled deep in his throat, and I eyed the ceiling, remembering my sleeping family upstairs.

I don’t know how to explain how I do it. There’s more. Watch.

I stared as the light within him changed from a faint, warm yellow glow to a whiter, more intense light.

“Wow, that’s—” The words died on my lips as Mason raised his hand, and an orb of blue-white light formed in his palm. The ball of light detached from his hand and floated up until it was level with my face. I gaped in wonder.

Touch it,
he said softly.

I raised my hand to the light, hesitated, and then pushed my fingertips into it. A buzz of pleasant, ticklish electricity ran up my arm to my body, leaving goose bumps in its path.

I can make it a lot more intense, but I’m afraid it might hurt you. I think it’s supposed to be some kind of defense.

The glowing ball disappeared, and my fingers hung in the empty darkness for a second before I lowered my arm.

Defense? Like a weapon? A stun gun?
I asked. I was tempted to flip on the bedside lamp so I could really see his face. I wanted some confirmation that I’d actually seen what I thought I saw. I slowly lay back down on the bed, and curled up on my side facing him. A strange twinge of excitement stirred at the base of my sternum.

He shrugged.
Maybe, I’m not sure. I haven’t told your Aunt D about it yet. I wanted to show you first.

Just then I noticed the heat radiating from him, much more than usual. I reached out and ran my fingertips slowly down his arm, and I gasped when residual static crackled softly between my skin and his, illuminating tiny blue sparks. His skin was as hot as the bottom of my laptop after it’s been on for a few hours. When my fingers reached his wrist, he grasped my hand in his and wove his fingers through mine. His hand was so warm, I started to sweat a little.

He rolled to his side, still gripping my hand, and faced me. His lips hovered inches from mine, and my heart thumped.

Hold still,
he said.

I waited, wondering what new trick he could possibly have. He drew a slow breath in through his nose, and then his lips parted and he began to exhale. His breath washed over my nose, mouth, and cheeks, and a million tiny sparks burst against my skin. Everywhere the sparks touched, my skin tingled.

He sent no words through our link, but I could sense how badly he wanted to close the space between us. His longing stirred like a heavy, hot wind through my mind, and for a moment, I couldn’t distinguish his feelings from my own.

He ran out of breath and leaned a fraction of an inch closer to me. I closed my eyes, anticipating the pressure of his mouth. When his lips touched mine, our emotions and thoughts seemed to twirl and twine around each other in a rush, like strands of seaweed caught in crashing waves.

Too soon, Mason pulled back and the tide of our jumbled thoughts receded.
I think I’d better go
, he said.

My eyelids popped open, and I strained to read his expression in the dark. I knew he wanted to stay. His feelings reverberated back and forth through our link. Plus, duh, he was a
guy
. But he didn’t want to push anything to happen too quickly between us.

After a few seconds, he dropped my hand, pushed himself up from the bed, and exited the basement as quietly as he’d arrived.

I rolled over to my back and brushed my index finger across my lips, which still tingled from the warmth of Mason’s kiss.

Just before I drifted to sleep, I heard music. It was a melody I didn’t recognize, and yet it felt familiar. As it danced through my mind like a swirling breeze, I caught a whiff of something fresh and organic, dew on just-cut grass. The melody faded, and its absence seemed to leave a hollowed-out place in my heart. But I was too exhausted to explore this new sensation, and sleep claimed me.

* * *

At lunch the next day, Angeline and I parked ourselves on the bottom row of the bleachers in the volleyball gym, and I devoured half of my PB & J. I’d told her about summer solstice and Aunt Dorothy’s warning, and Ang was totally freaked out. I tried to calm her down, reminding her she couldn’t do anything until we had our other Guardian.

We’d come to watch our friend Kaitlin rehearse with the dance team, and try to feel like normal high school students for an hour. I scanned the room while I chewed. Sophie hadn’t shown yet. She was dance team co-captain—almost unheard of for a sophomore—and I’d bet my oatmeal cookie that she was waiting until everyone had gathered so she could make a grand entrance. I imagined her in an empty classroom somewhere making out with my brother, and I grimaced.

Dance team members and various assorted friends hung out in small groups near the bleachers. Ang and I spotted Kaitlin and waved, and she blew us kisses.

“You have any gum?” Ang asked.

“Is Toby coming or something?” I grinned and dug around in my bag.

She giggled and jabbed me in the ribs. “No, I don’t think so.”

I offered her a stick of gum. “So tell me about last weekend. You know, you and Toby.”

She gave me a surprising amount of detail in just a few minutes, almost as if she’d been rehashing it over and over in her mind. She remembered their conversations almost word for word.

“He’s just so sweet,” she sighed. “Oh, and his aunt is getting married this summer in Danton, and he wants me to go with him to the wedding.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty big deal, Ang. You’ll probably be meeting his entire extended family.”

“Yeah,” she said happily.

“So, do you love him?” I asked. My heart flipped like a coin tossed into the air, and my smile faltered for a split second as she dropped her gaze. Huh. I was a little afraid of her answer. I knew it was selfish, but we’d been best friends since the fifth grade. Ang and I were a team, and we’d always relied only on each other.

“I mean . . .” she said. She scrunched her mouth to one side for a second and then a smile bloomed across her face. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so glad you’re so happy,” I said, and threw my arm around her in a half hug.

“Thanks,” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Do you think . . . you know . . .?”

I understood the unspoken question. I supposed I’d always loved Mason in some way. He was my oldest friend. A kind, good person, and as of recently, a total hottie. I did love him. But I wasn’t ready to say it out loud to Angeline.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe,” I said, grinning. I ducked my head and poked around in the side pocket of my bag, looking for my lip gloss.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting!” Sophie’s voice rang out across the gym, and I looked up.

My gaze locked on Sophie. A fine silvery film hung in the air around her.

“No.” I clutched Ang’s arm. “No! Do you see that?”

Ang’s head whipped around. “What?”

Oh, NO!
I shrieked at Mason.
This can NOT be happening!

What’s wrong? What’s going on?
Mason’s alarm ripped through my head like a bolt of electricity, sending a wave of dizziness through me, and I blinked hard.
Talk to me, Corinne! What is it?

Instead of answering in words, I focused on Sophie, pretended I was taking a mental snapshot of her, and pushed the image to Mason. I gave it a few seconds to sink in.

Sophie is the other Guardian
.

|| 4 ||

YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!
Mason responded after he’d taken in the full horror of Sophie surrounded by the silver web.
I can’t believe this.

“Corinne,
what
is wrong?” Ang grabbed my shoulder and made me face her.

I looked around quickly before hissing in Ang’s ear, “It’s Sophie. Don’t you see it?”

Ang squinted across the gym at Sophie and shook her head a couple of times. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Her hair looks like it might be different, or . . . I don’t know.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “No, it’s definitely not her hair. There’s like a shimmery web surrounding her.”

Ang looked again, but her pinched expression didn’t change.

I heaved a sigh. “It’s the sign of the other Guardian,” I said, my voice low and grim.

“The other . . .?” Realization registered in her eyes. “Oh, no. Sophie?”

I nodded.

“But that means . . .”

I was still nodding. “She’s the fourth member of the pyramidal union.”

Ang gaped at me, eyes wide and lips parted.

Think there’s any chance this could be a mistake? Or that it could, I don’t know, switch to someone else?
Mason asked.

I guess we could ask Aunt Dorothy. But I don’t think this is the sort of thing that happens by mistake
.

Jen, another dance team captain, was lining up the girls, and Sophie stood at the stereo, ready to cue the music. She hit play and ran to her place, kneeling along with the rest of the team. Ang and I watched in numb silence as the music started. The dance team sprang up from their crouched positions and ran through the routine. I followed Sophie with my eyes, praying that what I’d seen was an illusion or a figment of my overtaxed mind.

Nope. It was still there, a web of fine metallic-looking filaments waving through the air around Sophie’s stupid, perky ponytail. I glanced at Ang. Her silver aura had grown more distinct. I held in a groan, remembering my most recent Sophie-induced humiliation. When Ang and I had joined a bonfire at the cove, Sophie let out a loud comment about how purple had been her favorite color when she was five, but
thank goodness
she came to her senses and realized how babyish it looked. I wanted to run into the trees, find a sharp rock, and saw off my recently dyed purple chunk of hair.