Death and the Girl Next Door (2 page)

After a couple of seconds, I realized my hand had brushed against his arm. It was enough to send a vision crashing into me, like the flash of a nuclear bomb, bright and unforgiving. Tamping down my surprise—I hadn’t had a vision in a very long time—I pressed shaking fingers to my forehead to wait out the familiar storm, to see what treasures would wash ashore in the aftermath.

Yet the things I saw were unreal, impossible, and certainly not of this world: A desolate landscape lay before me with scorched clouds and a roiling, violet sky. The air was stagnant and so impossibly thick, breathing it took effort. Then I heard the clanging of metal. I turned to watch in horror as a being, a boy of no more than sixteen or seventeen, fierce and somehow not quite human, struggled with a dark, monstrous beast. The boy’s arms corded as tendon and muscle strained against the weight of the sword he wielded. He slashed again and again, but the monster was fast, with razorlike talons and sharp, gleaming teeth, and the boy knew what those teeth felt like when they sank into flesh, knew the blinding pain that accompanied defeat. But he also knew the power he himself wielded, the raw strength that saturated every molecule of his body.

Another herculean effort landed a thrust in the monster’s shoulder and continued through its thick chest. The monster sank under the boy’s sword with a guttural scream. The boy looked on while the beast writhed in pain, watched it grow still as the life drained out of it, and somewhere in the back of the boy’s mind, he allowed himself to register the burning of his lungs as he struggled to fill them with air.

Blood trickled between his fingers, down the length of his blade, and dripped to the powdery earth beneath his feet. I followed the trail of blood up to three huge gashes across his chest. Evidently three of the monster’s claws had met their mark, laying the flesh of its enemy open. I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands as the boy spun toward me, sword at the ready. Squinting against the low sun, I could almost make out his features, but the vision evaporated before I got the chance. A heartbeat later, I was back in the dark hallway, gasping for air, one palm pressed against my temple, the other against the wall for balance.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fought the memory of the vision, the fear that summoned the taste of bile in the back of my throat, the feel of blood dripping down the boy’s arm.

Ever since I could remember, I had a tendency to see random flashes of inconsequential situations in my head, which, by definition, could point to any number of debilitating diseases. I wasn’t psychic or anything. I couldn’t conjure visions whenever I wanted. Images just seemed to crystallize in my mind out of nowhere, and at the most inopportune times too, shimmering like reflections off water. Sometimes they were just flashes of nonsense, glimpses of the impossible, like a rip in the afternoon sky that let night seep through. Nothing ever came of those.

But sometimes the visions either had been or would be, as though I could see into both the past and the future. Like the one time I accidentally saw into the past after touching my grandfather’s hand. He had been a thousand miles away, and I caught a glimpse of the first time he laid eyes on Grandma. She’d tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked to class with her friends, only to have the wind toss it back across her face. She laughed and tried again, and I felt the tug of interest in Grandpa the minute it hit him.

The ability rocked, I admit. But never in my life had I seen anything with so much punch, so much texture.

I hurried to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. Clearly that had been one of those flashes of nonsense. But it seemed so real. I could feel the weight of the air, the depletion of the boy’s energy as he fought, his limbs shaking from exertion and from adrenaline as it pumped through his powerful body.

I blinked and forced myself back to the present, forced myself to calm. Stepping back into the hall, I glanced around in search of the dark-headed boy, to no avail. Disappointment washed over me. For one thing, I wanted a better look. For another, I wanted a better look. The first was for obvious girl reasons. Those arms. That jaw. Who could blame me? The second was because of what I’d just seen. Surely my vision was metaphorical in some way. Scorched clouds in violet skies didn’t exist. And thankfully, neither did that beast.

I must’ve been in the restroom longer than I’d thought. Brooke and Glitch were waiting for me outside. But I couldn’t get those images out of my head. I’d never seen anything like them in my life.

As I grabbed my backpack with a shaking hand, I sensed someone watching. I turned to see Cameron Lusk sitting in a booth, his shoulder-length blond hair visible even in the shadowy corner. Though we lived in a small town and Cameron and I were in the same sophomore class, we hadn’t spoken in forever. He was more the loner type, scowling at anyone who tried to communicate with him. But still, he was right there. It would be rude of me not to acknowledge his surly existence.

“Hey, Cameron,” I said as I fished a tip out of my bag and turned back to our table.

“Your friends already left a tip,” the barista said from behind the counter. “See you tomorrow.” She grinned at me, knowing I’d be back. If I remembered correctly, she’d graduated a couple of years earlier and had gone off to college in Albuquerque. Must not have worked out, since she was now a barista in a small-town coffee shop. Or it worked out perfectly, and she’d gone to college to become a barista in a small-town coffee shop. Hard to imagine, but okay.

“See ya,” I said before glancing at Cameron again. He took the whole brooding thing way too seriously. The glare he’d graced me with could have frozen heck itself. “See you tomorrow, Cameron.”

He lifted a finger in acknowledgment. I felt oddly honored.

“What took you so long?” Brooklyn asked as I stepped into the late-afternoon sun. New Mexico was nothing if not sunny, even where we lived in the Manzano Mountains.

“Did you see that boy?” I asked, scanning the street.

“Cameron?” Brooklyn asked. If the distaste wasn’t clear in her tone, the wrinkling of her nose would have said it all.

“No, a dark-haired boy, tall and really, really muscular.”

Brooklyn jumped to attention and joined me in the search, turning every which way. “What boy? I didn’t see a boy. Especially not a tall, dark, and muscular one.”

Glitch peered in through the coffee shop window. “I didn’t see anyone either. Maybe you imagined him.”

“I had a vision,” I said breathlessly, and two sets of eyes widened on me. I knew we’d spend the rest of the evening talking about what I’d seen. If my vision was even remotely authentic, something very dreadful was about to happen to that boy.

SUPERNOVA

Three days later, I found myself struggling against both melancholy and euphoria. But if I’d known my day was going to suck like a turbo-powered Hoover, I totally would’ve faked the flu and stayed home. Or chicken pox. Or malaria. Instead, I’d walked to school like it was any other day. Like my heart wasn’t breaking. Like my head wasn’t reeling and my feet weren’t weighted down by the sudden and tragic onset of clinical depression, making each breath a trial, each step a struggle. I totally needed a car.

I walked along Main Street, past trees and small businesses geared more toward tourists than locals, until my high school came into sight. Riley High was the latest and greatest achievement of the Riley’s Switch Board of Education. It was sparkling and new with stone arches that would’ve looked more at home in an architectural magazine than in a small New Mexico town. Heavy plate-glass windows lined the front with arched pillars at the entrance. The whole thing was topped off with a scarlet dome, like a castle tucked into the mountainside. Several outbuildings encircled the school, including the gym, the agricultural and construction shops, and the cafeteria. I had to admit, when I started here my freshman year, the place intimidated me more than a little. But I adjusted quickly when I realized how much the boys had grown over the summer. High school was a grand place to be.

I spotted Brooklyn in the sea of students rushing to class and zigzagged toward her. Hugging my notebook to my chest, I took turns dodging a group of wrestlers practicing their chosen profession in the hallway and barely escaping with my life when a linebacker decided to plunge through the crush of bodies.

Who knew high school could be so dangerous?

Brooklyn was busy dialing the combination on her locker. She glanced at me between spins. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” I leaned against the wall of bright red lockers and asked, “Do you remember what today is?”

She stopped midspin, her dark visage puckering in soft admonishment. “Of course I do. How could I not?”

I shrugged and glanced down. It was weird. I figured the tenth anniversary of my parents’ disappearance would be excruciating. Like if I’d broken a leg or gotten a really bad paper cut. Instead, the pain in my chest was more like a whisper bouncing off the walls of an empty cavern. I just woke up and they were still gone. Like they had been every other morning for the last ten years.

At first their absence had seemed like a dream, but the depth of despair my grandparents fell into convinced me they were really gone. And everyone asked me questions. What happened? What were we doing there? What did I see? Nothing, I would tell them. Again and again, nothing. I didn’t understand why they were asking me questions I couldn’t possibly have the answers to, but they said I’d been with my parents when they disappeared. The police found me unconscious beside our car at the old Pueblo ruins outside of Riley’s Switch. I didn’t remember being there. I just remembered waking up in the hospital days later, my body so heavy, I could barely move, my lungs so thick, I could barely breathe. And no one had any explanation as to why.

Then came the questions. Over and over until my grandparents, in their state of utter bereavement, ordered the authorities to stop and took me home to grieve. I found out later that the entire town had helped look for my parents. Search parties scouted for days, hunted for clues. Even the FBI showed up, but nothing was ever found. Not a single shred of evidence. As cliché as it sounded, they literally vanished without a trace.

The official report stated that my parents had wandered off and lost their way back. But they would never have done that. They would never have left me. And yet, because there was no evidence of foul play, the investigation lasted only a couple of weeks.

And I, the only one who could offer any explanation, could remember nothing. The guilt of that fact weighed on me more and more every year, like a jagged boulder in my chest that grew with each passing moment.

I’d never told anyone about the guilt except for Brooke.

Her eyes filled with sympathy. “Why didn’t you stay home?”

“And wallow in a deep pit of despair alone when I could force you to wallow with me? No, thank you.”

She nodded. “That’s a good point. I’m pretty good at wallowing.”

“And,” I said, withdrawing inside myself just a little, “I have something awful to confess.”

“Yeah?” Intrigue scooted her closer. “How awful?”

I hugged my notebook tighter and said, “I keep thinking about that boy from the Java Loft. For three days, that boy and that vision.”

A knowing smile softened her face. “And you feel guilty?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you think I should?”

“No.”

“I mean, here I am, practically orphaned ten years to the day, and my mind keeps replaying that vision over and over in my head. I’ve never seen anything like it. Or felt anything like it, for that matter. He was so fierce, so desperate, and yet somehow not quite human.” I took in a deep breath and refocused on Brooke. “But to think about that on today of all days.”

She put a hand on my arm. “Lor, I’m certain your parents wouldn’t want you wallowing for their sake.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to have your gift, to see the things you’ve seen and feel the things you’ve felt. I understand where you’re coming from, but if you really loved me, you’d describe that boy in much more detail and include pertinent information like chest measurements and white blood cell count.”

I grinned playfully and leaned in closer. “Well, I did try my hand at drawing him.”

Her smile widened. “And?”

After a quick scan of the area to make sure no one was looking, I eased my notebook forward to reveal my latest masterpiece.

Her stare locked on to the image I’d drawn. The boy from the vision. She inhaled a soft breath. “Oh, my.”

“I know.” I’d caught only a fraction of his face during the fight. Dark eyes one instant. A strong jaw the next. Lashes, thick and impossibly long. So I didn’t really have that much to go on, but I drew what I remembered.

“Is the boy in your vision the same one from the hall?”

“Probably,” I answered. “At least that’s how it usually works. But how could that even be possible?”

“Beats the heck outta me.”

“Maybe my vision was a metaphor for something he has to face in his life. Something awful.”

“Like finals?”

“Exactly. Only, you know, more life-threatening.”

A slow nod confirmed her agreement. “Maybe. I know one thing: He’s absolutely gorgeous.” She leveled an approving eye on me. “You are getting seriously good at this stuff. You should sell your drawings on eBay and pay for a trip to the casinos. Put those skills to good use.”

Brooklyn knew my glimpses into the Twilight Zone didn’t really work that way. I wasn’t psychic like that. I just saw things every so often when I touched people. There were no guarantees that what I saw actually happened, or ever would.

“I only use my powers for good,” I said, offering her a teasing scowl.

She threw me a doubtful look. “What about that time the creature whose name shall not be spoken aloud backed her car into Principal Davis’s SUV? You saw that two days before it happened.”

“Oh, right, well, most of the time. But this vision was different. So much emotion. So much turmoil.”