Crave (19 page)

“Nope. He asked about you, and the boy looked straight-up possessed. Asked me to give you this letter, too.” She fished in her pocket then handed me a folded note.

His letters always used to make me smile before I even read them. Now all I felt was dread. Slowly I forced my fingers to unfold it. The entire sheet of paper was filled with two words repeated over and over…
I'm sorry.

A laugh that felt more like a sob burst out of me. I gave her the note so she could read it for herself, knowing she wouldn't have already without my permission.

“He's gone off the deep end,” she whispered, her voice bordering on awe. “What did you
do?
”

“I made eye contact with him. Apparently that's all it takes.” And suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. “Anne…I think I'm turning into a monster.”

Tristan

The same old ache sucked the air from my lungs as I turned the corner from the walkway and the sunlight hit a too-familiar head of red hair up ahead. Savannah was wearing it down today for a change. Nice. Too freaking nice.

Man, how I wished I could get her out of my system.

I hadn't put a spell on Stanwick to make him hurry and screw up his shot with Savannah, but only because I didn't want to see her upset. Otherwise, Emily said I easily could have magically convinced him to cheat on her or drive her to break up with him for hundreds of different reasons.

For now, Stanwick had won. He made her happy. A blind person could see he was all wrong for her. But as long as he made her smile, how could I get in the way of that?

In the meantime, I couldn't decide if sharing history class with her made it the best or worst period in my schedule.

Several yards ahead, Savannah disappeared into the history class's building. Anne turned, saw me and frowned. She was looking extra ticked off today. I expected her to walk past me. Instead, she walked right up to me and planted herself in my way.

“Tristan, I need to talk to you.”

“Whatever it is, I didn't do it,” I said with a half smile. It was the best I could do, and a lot more than anyone else had gotten from me in months.

“Funny. No, I mean a certain person we both know needs your help again.”

Everything went cold inside me as the blood rushed down to my gut. Savannah was in trouble again? I opened my mouth to reply then heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder and nearly cursed out loud. It was Mr. Smythe, Dylan's uncle and a descendant. He was within hearing distance.

“Don't know what you mean.” I faced Anne again. I tried to tell her with my eyes that I got it, though.

Apparently I wasn't obvious enough. “Oh, come on. Remember the Warty Boys last year, Arthur? Time to draw out the ole Excalibur again, take care of some toads and all that.”

“Nope, sorry, you lost me.” I gave her a huge, slow wink this time.
Come on, don't be thickheaded
and
blind.

Her eyes widened then narrowed. “I should have known all you football jocks are just selfish jerks. See you later, snob.” She stomped off so believably angry-looking that I actually wondered for a few seconds if she'd understood. Once she was past Mr. Smythe on the sidewalk, though, she turned back and mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Planning on being late for my class, Mr. Coleman?” Mr. Smythe said as he drew closer.

“No, sir. Headed there now.”

“And are you going to have to deliver any notes for me again?”

Translation: Would he have to send me off to do more emergency grounding? Sitting beside Savannah every other day wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. Every now and then, I lost control in class and my power spiked. When it did, Mr. Smythe had to pretend to send me to the office to deliver a note, so I could actually release the excess energy.

“Going to try not to, sir.”

“Good.”

I took the three cement steps in one bound up into the building and hurried to my desk. While I shoved my books under my desk, I snuck a peek at Savannah. And nearly flash burned my books.

Despite the makeup, she looked like someone had backhanded both her cheeks. No wonder she'd left her hair down today. She was obviously trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying recently, and hard from the looks of it. Even her nose was swollen and pink. Someone had done this to her. From what Anne had said, the someone was a guy. Another stalker maybe, but who?

I'd have to call Anne tonight and find out who the new
stalker was.
Wonder what time she gets home?
Hopefully not too late. I'd need as much time as possible to load up the protective charms. Anyone who made Savannah cry didn't deserve to speak to her again. Ever.

Her Charmers bracelet jingled, distracting me. She was playing with her necklace. No, wait. She was doing something else with it.

She took off Stanwick's senior ring.

I froze. I wasn't sure if even my blood moved right then. There was only one meaning behind a girl taking off her boyfriend's senior ring. She was going to break up with him.

Pure joy rushed my blood straight to my head, making me want to whoop out loud. Yes! I knew Stanwick wasn't good enough for her, knew he couldn't make her happy for long.

Then I saw her face. She looked ready to cry again. Aw, man, I was a jerk. Here I was ready to do a touchdown dance, and she looked like someone had just killed her dog.

I would break Greg's face for hurting her like this.

Then her sleeve fell away from her wrist. Were those…bruises? In the shape of fingers, too.

Blinding rage filled me, and it was all I could do to keep my energy level contained and not burn the building down around us all. Stanwick's face would more than pay for those bruises on her. If he'd done it, that is.

 

Confirmation on my hunch came sooner than I'd hoped for. Anne and I got out of volleyball and football practice after school at the same time.

As we walked parallel with each other toward the front parking lot, separated by a few feet so we wouldn't appear to be walking together, I asked, “Stanwick?”

Like me, she kept her gaze straight ahead. “Yep.”

“Just him?”

“Yep. He scared the crap out of her at lunch on Monday. She's been hiding in the bathroom during breaks ever since.”

He must have given Savannah those bruises on Monday.

“She took off his ring in history.” I was almost to my truck now.

“That's my girl. Still…”

“Yeah. Don't worry, I'm on it.” Judging by her smile, Anne didn't know about the bruises. Was Savannah keeping secrets from her best friend now?

Had Stanwick hurt her before?

“Keep it low-key and don't embarrass her. Try not to go all Neanderthal,” Anne said.

“Who, me?” At my truck, I shot her an innocent look I was sure quickly turned ugly as I unlocked my door. “Meet you at the cafeteria picnic tables in the morning.”

“Yep, see you there.”

Grinding my teeth, I jumped into my truck and pulled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires by accident. Luckily the cop posted at the corner was a descendant and just shook a warning finger at me. I had too much work to do to wait for a ticket this evening.

 

The next day, I stayed in the cafeteria long enough to see Anne slip something into Savannah's bags at their table while Savannah stood in the food line. Then I headed outside to get rid of some serious energy overload. Even making all those charms last night hadn't put a dent in my energy level. The descendants had looked ready to kill me at our table to day. Emily had just pointed at the doors in silence, her eyes murderous.

But there was just no way to stop feeling like this. All I could think about was the need to hit Stanwick. Over and
over. And how, as far as everyone else knew, I had no right to feel this way, much less act on it.

Leaning back against my grounding tree, I'd just started siphoning off the energy when I felt it—a too-familiar ache in my chest and gut that only one girl caused. But Savannah should be inside with her friends and protected by four of my memory confusion charms.

Still, the sensation was too strong to ignore. So I opened my eyes. And cursed.

Stanwick and Savannah were at the cafeteria's rear exit near the Dumpster station. The curve of the building blocked them from the view of the outside picnic tables. But not from me.

Her eyes were wide, the hurt in them like a punch to my stomach as she handed Stanwick his ring. He pushed back her hand without taking the ring. She tried again, and he ignored her hand, instead pressing his body into hers against the cafeteria's brick exterior.

I was stalking over to them without ever deciding to move. As I got closer, I could hear them.

“No, Greg. Stop. This isn't really you. It's my fault. I did this, I know. But you have to stop.”

He tried to kiss her lips. She turned her head and shoved at his shoulders, but he only leaned harder against her and kissed her neck. She stomped on his toes, but he didn't even flinch.

I saw the fear and frustration in Savannah's eyes a second before she recognized me. That look in those eyes fueled my own fury, pushing it to a point I'd thought impossible for my anger to reach. The rage ate me up from the inside out, burning away all logic and reason.

I grabbed Stanwick's shoulder and spun him off her, then threw the dazed senior behind the nearest Dumpster.

It felt too good, landing that first surprise blow to Stanwick's chin and sending him sprawling. I went after him
again. But I should have remembered to avoid the soccer jerk's feet; he kicked me in the thigh. The pain had me on a knee in the gravel before I even realized it.

Then we were on each other, Stanwick on top long enough to get in a couple of good hits to my jaw and splitting my lip before I could use the advantage of my bigger size to flip him. Once on top, I landed three good blows to his nose, mouth and right cheek.

Then two soft hands grabbed my upper arms, and her warm, lavender scent drifted around me. At the same time, a red curtain of hair covered my face, blinding me.

“Tristan, stop! It's not his fault,” Savannah demanded right against my ear.

“Like it's your fault instead?” I snapped back, trying to hold on to the anger. But the feel of her lips against my ear and the light scent of her was drowning me with a different need.

I leaned down to mutter in Stanwick's ear, “You know if we're caught fighting on campus, we're both screwed. Still want that soccer scholarship?”

He glared at me for a long minute then gave a quick nod. Satisfied we understood each other, I stood up. I stared at Stanwick as he picked up his ring from the grass and stomped off.

“Tristan. Your face,” she whispered, reaching up to touch my stinging lip.

“It's nothing.”

“That is
not
nothing. How are you going to hide that?”

I froze so I wouldn't scare her away. She didn't seem to be aware of how she was pressed against my side and arm in her effort to reach my face. “I don't have to hide it. I play football. It's a rough sport.”

“That regularly messes up your face?”

She was so close, her face just inches from mine. It would be too easy to kiss her….

“It's a
really
rough sport.”

She smiled up at me, and my gut clenched. The way she looked at me…I could see every tiny fleck in her irises, which were dark blue at the moment. Her pupils dilated as she pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and froze. As I watched, her eyes turned to pale silver.

And then, with our gazes locked together…something just clicked inside me. And I knew.

Knew she was the only one for me.

Knew she always had been ever since that kiss in the fourth grade.

“Savannah…” I had to tell her. Who cared about my parents and the Clann and all their stupid rules? Savannah and I were meant to be. All I needed was for her see it, too, and everything would be okay.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, her eyes widening. “First Greg, now you.”

Huh? I blinked a few times in confusion.

“Twice in one week. It's almost a record,” she said, though the words sounded more like a sob. She stepped away from me and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

“Sav…”

“I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid!” A sob burst out of her, and the sound ripped across my skin. She moved away from my outstretched hand. “No, don't. Tristan, I…I can't believe I did it again. I'm an idiot. Whatever you're thinking or feeling right now, please try to forget it.”

Forget
this
feeling? No way.

“It's not real,” she continued. “The feelings will go away in time. I think. I hope. Oh, Lord. Just…I'm truly sorry I looked at you. What a way to say thank-you.”

Okay, maybe the stress of the moment had made her snap, because she wasn't making much sense. She turned away.

I grabbed her arms to stop her from leaving. “What are you talking about? You didn't do anything to me.”

“Of course I did. I looked at you. Really looked at you. That's how…what…Greg and those boys last April…” She couldn't find the right words apparently. But she believed what she was saying.

“Savannah, look at me.”

She did but not fully, her gaze stopping somewhere around my mouth.

“No, really look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Okay, listen to me, then. I feel perfectly normal. I'm not going to turn into one of your stalkers just because you looked at me.”

“All the others did. Ever since I got sick last year.”

“But not me.”

“Why would you be different?”

I started to tell her the truth about the Clann, my family's power and how it probably made me immune to whatever she was talking about. But I couldn't; revealing Clann secrets was an unforgivable offense that would jeopardize every single descendant. “Just trust me.”