Haven (12 page)

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t turn to look. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, his mouth moving toward mine.

For a moment time seemed to stand still. My breath came faster, my heart banging around in my chest, until his
lips finally touched mine. An electric shock raced through my body, skittering across my skin as he kissed me—softly, gently, his hands against the small of my back. Rising up on tiptoe, I pressed myself fully against him, opening my mouth, inviting his tongue inside, moaning softly when I felt it skate across my teeth and touch my own tongue before retreating, teasing.

And then the bells began to ring—indicating midnight, curfew time. I tried to block out the sound, but it was no use. His lips left mine, and I stumbled backward a few steps, trying to regain my balance.

“How’d it get so late?” I murmured, glancing down at my watch, as if it might contradict the pealing bells. “Crap, I’m never going to make it in by curfew.”

“Yes, you will,” he answered, reaching for my hand and pulling me back toward him.

“It’s a good ten-minute walk back to the dorm,” I huffed. I could see the building in question, looming off in the distance.
Way
off in the distance.

“You’ll make it. Come here.”

“Oh, God, what’re you going to do?” I took a step away from him, shaking my head wildly.

“Do you want to get busted? Or do you want to make curfew?”

Five, six times the bells had chimed. Six more to go, and
I’d get a demerit. “I don’t want to get busted,” I said in a rush.

“Okay, hold on tight. And close your eyes.”

My fingernails were digging into his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. I swallowed hard and nodded. And then . . .

I don’t know what happened. I felt myself being lifted from the ground. I could hear the whistling of wind, somehow melded with the bells—a strange, kind of blurred sound, like nothing I’d ever heard before. It seemed like only a second or two had passed, and then there was a pop. He pried my hand away from his, and I was suddenly aware of the grass beneath my feet again.

“Goodnight, Vi,” he whispered in my ear, and then he was gone.

My eyes flew open, and there I was, right by the dorm. My hands shaking, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, just as the last chime sounded.

“Good heavens, Miss McKenna,” Mrs. Girard said, startling me. “Whatever is the matter? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

I couldn’t answer, couldn’t take another step. All I could do was sway dizzily against the doorframe, wondering what the hell had just happened.

I
spent the next two days in the infirmary. I claimed a stomach bug, because what else could I say? That I was hiding out from my boyfriend? Too freaked out to go to class? I wanted some time alone to think, to get my head on straight, and the infirmary was the only answer. Over and over again I relived those seconds, trying to figure out how we’d moved so far so quickly.
It’s impossible!
my mind screamed. There was no logical explanation, as far as I could tell, and that scared the crap out of me.

I mean, psychic stuff . . . sure. I was used to it all by now, pretty familiar with the range of seemingly impossible stuff
that people could do. But this . . . this went far beyond anything else I’d experienced at Winterhaven.

Aidan was somehow
different
.

Still, I waited for him to come by—to send a message or something. I figured he would wonder why I wasn’t in class, would ask around and learn where I was. But apparently he didn’t. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to come by and check on me. Which hurt, despite the fact that he was the reason I’d fled to the infirmary in the first place.

By Monday night I’d convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing, that we’d gotten back to the dorms by normal means—at least, normal as far as Winterhaven went. After all, he’d been so casual, so cavalier about it.

Once I finally made it back to class on Tuesday, Aidan wasn’t there. He was gone—all week. Without a message, an e-mail, a text—
anything.
By Thursday I was starting to worry. After all, he
had
looked exhausted over the weekend. Maybe he’d gotten sick; maybe something was really wrong with him.

I could have called his cell, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. I even thought about reaching out to him telepathically, but I wasn’t sure if it worked from a distance. Even if it did, that just seemed too . . . intrusive. Even more desperate
than calling him, really. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to be pursued, not the pursuer.

But by Friday morning the curiosity was killing me. “Hey, Cee,” I called out as we were getting ready to go down to breakfast, “is there a student directory? You know, like with room numbers or something?”

“Sure, why?” She reached up to her bookshelf and pulled down a spiral-bound book. “Here.”

My stomach in knots, I took it from her and sank to the bed, flipping through the pages. “Thanks. I just . . . well, Aidan’s been absent from class all week, and I’m starting to worry.”

“I thought everything was good between you two. I mean, after last Saturday . . .” She let the thought trail off with a shrug.

“I thought it was too.”
Gray, Aidan.
There it was, along with his cell number and an address in Manhattan.
East Hall, Room 327,
it said. Not that knowing his room number was going to help me any. Girls weren’t allowed on the boys’ hall, and vice versa.

Cece sat down across from me, on her own bed. “Did you ask Kate if Jack’s seen him?”

“Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just sick or something.”

“Yeah, maybe he got your stomach bug. You could call the infirmary and see if he’s there,” she volunteered.

“I guess I could.” But I wouldn’t. There wasn’t really a stomach bug, and if Aidan wanted to talk to me, he would have called. Frustrated, I ran my fingers over the directory’s cover, the word “Winterhaven” raised and bumpy beneath my fingertips.

And then my vision tunneled and the book slid from my lap, clattering to the floor beside the bed.
Oh, no.

It was dusk, the sky a deep purplish gray. Leaves rustled in the wind, the breeze warm against my cheek. “Do it!” someone yelled. “Now!” I heard a scream, and realized it was my own. Closing my eyes, I took several deep, steadying breaths. I had to do it; I knew I was meant to. And then the picture sped up, fast-forwarded. Something smelled strange, salty, almost metallic, and I was suddenly filled with dread. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and saw blood everywhere. It darkened the grass around my feet, and somehow I knew it was Aidan’s. There he was, just a few feet away, lying still. Aidan! I screamed the name over and over again, as I fell to my knees there in the grass.

And then I heard Cece calling my name, back in the dorm room. “Violet! Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

I blinked hard, trying to look and sound normal before I spoke. “I’m . . . it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You scared the shit out of me. You looked like you were having a seizure or something.”

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, wishing I
could erase it, make it all go away. “It was a . . . you know, one of my visions. But I’m fine now.”

Her brows drew together. “About Aidan? You yelled his name.”

“Yeah.” I didn’t deny it. What was the point?

“Is he okay?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I’m sure he is. Whatever I saw . . . it wasn’t happening now. It was . . . I don’t know, months from now. Spring or summer.” There had been leaves on the trees, I remembered that. Everything had been green. That was all I was going to say, though; I wasn’t getting into details. No
way
was I telling her about the blood. I shivered, feeling like a knife had pierced my heart. Had I just foreseen his death? Aidan’s death? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to cry.

I forced myself to go down to breakfast, to go to class, to pretend that everything was fine. And maybe it was. I nearly wept with relief when Aidan walked into anthropology as if nothing was wrong, taking his seat across from mine. He gave me a little half wave, the faintest smile on his lips. Totally nonchalant. My relief at seeing him disappeared, and I suddenly wanted to strangle him. Time to put the telepathy to good use.
Where have you been?
I directed toward him with a scowl.

I saw him shrug.
Around,
came his voice in my head, along with the electrical buzz. It was so weird, this connection.

Are you okay?
he asked.

Yeah, I’m fine. You’re the one who’s been MIA all week.

Just busy,
came his reply.

I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat. He was keeping things from me. I knew it shouldn’t bother me, but it did. He was way too secretive, and it was driving me nuts. I was still freaked out by the vision, and I needed to see him. To talk to him. For real, not this crazy talking-in-the-head stuff.
Can I talk to you after class?

I can’t.

My cheeks burned. He was blowing me off again. Mercifully, Dr. Blackwell strode in just then, saving me from embarrassing myself any further.

“Hey,” chirped Patsy’s voice as I flipped open my cell phone. “Glad I caught you.”

“Hey, Mom.” She hated it when I called her Patsy. “Yeah, I’m just sitting here waiting on my psych—I mean, on Sandra. She’s my, ummm . . . personal trainer.”
I guess you could call her that.

“Personal trainer?”

How to get out of this one?
“I just figured, you know, with my shoulder and all . . .” I trailed off lamely, realizing I wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. Now that I’d gotten the hang of blocking my thoughts, Sandra and I had begun to focus on
my visions—trying to harness them, to gain a sense of awareness and look for clues while they were happening, for details that might help make them more useful. I’d hoped they could match me up with a precog for the rest of my training, but Sandra was what was called a generalist. For now it was Sandra or nothing. Anyway, I liked her.

“I hope they’re not charging extra for that. God knows it’s expensive enough—”

“No, it’s included,” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. “In the tuition, I mean.”

“Well, that’s a nice perk, I guess.”

Cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder, I reached down and picked up the pajamas that Cece had left on the floor by her bed. “My shoulder’s feeling better, by the way.”
Not that she’d asked
. “Sometimes it gets a little sore after practice, that’s all.”

I heard her sigh loudly. “Maybe I was wrong to send you there. Spence is an excellent all-girls school here in the city, or there’s Riverdale if you like coed and want to be—”

“I like it here at Winterhaven, Pats—Mom,” I corrected. “Besides, it wouldn’t make any difference to my shoulder.”

“You’re right.” She sounded almost relieved, as if she’d been afraid that I might actually take her up on her offer. “I’m so busy that you’d be bored stiff here, anyway.”

What else is new?
“How’s the new job?”

“Oh, it’s great. Exhausting, overwhelming . . . but I love it. Have you talked to Gran?”

“I tried to call yesterday, but no one answered. Did you show her how to use the answering machine before we left?”

“I did, but you know your Gran. Try her again later. She says Lupe’s been acting odd lately. I hope it’s not the first stages of dementia, bless her heart. Anyway, she seems convinced your mortal soul is in some sort of danger, so I promised to call and check up on you. I told her that you sounded awfully happy in your e-mails, but apparently she was going on and on about battles between good and evil, and God knows what else.”

I laughed uneasily. “Yeah, I think my mortal soul is pretty safe here.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. Poor Lupe, you know how fanciful her imagination is. She still swears that the blue bedroom is haunted. All these years, refusing to clean up in there.”

I’d always thought that maybe there was more to Lupe’s imaginings than my family knew, and now I wondered if maybe Lupe had “gifts” of her own. And if she did, well . . . it was going to be a little harder to brush aside her worries. “Tell her I’m fine, okay? Better yet, I’ll tell her myself. I’ll try them again later today.”

“Great. Oh, wow, look at the time! I really need to run.”

I could picture her glancing down at the diamond-encrusted Rolex my dad had bought her for their fifth anniversary. “No problem,” I said.

“Take care, then. Bye, hon.”

“Bye.” I snapped the phone shut with a sigh. It was always the same with Patsy. Which, in this case, was probably a good thing. After all, there was so much I couldn’t tell her, so much to hide. I knew with 100 percent certainty that if I told her about Winterhaven, about the “gifts” and “talents” that were fostered here, I’d end up just like Cece’s old roommate.

No
way
was I going to let that happen. Not now, not when I was finally comfortable in my own skin for the first time in ages, when I finally felt like I didn’t have to hide a vital piece of me.

All those years spent keeping secrets, even from my best friend. I glanced guiltily at my laptop, knowing that I owed Whitney an e-mail. She was so full of questions, and I wanted to tell her about my new friends, maybe even about Aidan, but something was holding me back.

A knock sounded at the door, making me jump. I banged my knee against the desk as I hastily shoved my cell phone back inside the top drawer. “Come in,” I called out. I was actually looking forward to this session with Sandra. More than anything, I wanted to be in control of my visions, rather than have them controlling me.

Sandra bounced inside with her usual degree of perkiness. “Hey, good job,” she said as I quickly imagined the thick, strong wall around my mind, guarding my innermost thoughts. She was still a mind reader, after all.

And I still had secrets.

A
dvil,” I groaned. Sitting up in bed, I winced, feeling slightly queasy. My head was pounding, and for a moment I wondered if someone had slipped something into my drink the night before.