Lost (18 page)
Fine? What did she mean, fine? I’d controlled someone’s thoughts today, gotten a deadly pen pal, and there was still the horrible prediction that I’d kill her. Things were
not
fine. I wanted to tell her that I was no longer the infant she'd left or the shell of a girl they’d brought to New Orleans, and I didn't need her to sugarcoat the truth. My accidental and wild powers were right in the middle of whatever Kamon was planning.
Sophia led us to the table for an early dinner. I took the chair across from Mom.
“The blood I will spill?” I asked, quoting Kamon's letter, hoping that would make her be more honest with me.
“You know who you are,” she said. “Don’t allow this letter to shake that. You’re not capable of anything evil. He’s an idiot, sweetie. He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s still trying to figure out if you were born human or not.”
She chuckled as she gracefully placed her napkin in her lap. She scooped the potato soup from the far end of her bowl then neatly sipped from the spoon. It seemed like she didn’t notice how formal and calm she was being in this serious moment. I didn’t know
who
to blame for her ill placed table manners, her job or her mother.
“Well, that
idiot
sent someone to talk to me. T. R.,” I said. “He had those initials in his ring … if it helps.” She nodded and took another formal sip. Her posture was perfect as I lurched over my bowl. At least one of us was too worried to care about etiquette. “He found me easily, Mom. And you don’t plan to keep me in the house. He could find me again. Maybe he’s the mysterious person who will kill me. Kill
you
, actually.”
“He’s not. I know Travis. He wouldn’t be so hard to see.”
“Then who else could it be?” If Kamon wasn’t going to kill me, or Remi, or the triplets, I didn’t know
who
else to question.
She hunched her shoulders. “Sophia and I can’t see who it is, honey.”
“If you can’t see them and Sophia’s magic can’t protect me, how are you going to stop them?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. Sophia tilted a pitcher of water over her glass. It was the only sound for a while, making it as loud as the waterfall from the Congo.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. If something gets past the charm, you still won’t feel a thing. A bullet could go right through your head and you’ll be fine.”
I averted my eyes from hers. It sounded like she’d given up, accepted that she wouldn’t find this person and would die. I hid my fists under my thighs. Giving up and accepting terrible fates was a habit of hers.
The emotions that flared in my chest were at war with each other, too different to share the space inside of me. Her blasé attitude made me want to flip the table but the fact that she was here made me want to crawl into her arms, and the girl I had always been wanted to run in fear but the girl I was becoming wanted to fight to change our lives. No more wanting things out of our reach – a family, a mother, a daughter, a normal life. We were strong, powerful. We shouldn’t have to live like this. Like strangers and hidden cowards. This phantom person who Sophia’s magic or Mom’s mental powers couldn’t find had to be stopped.
We’d been through this, the whole
she's going to die
thing, and I didn’t want to do it again. The girl I was becoming and the things she wanted rose inside of me and trumped everything else.
If they weren’t strong enough, or willing to fight hard enough, my powers could be our only hope. I thought about Kamon's letter. I didn't want to be feared, but I wouldn't mind being unstoppable and powerful right now if it would help her stay alive.
I didn’t know if Mom was using her powers or if something about me had changed on the outside to show how much I’d just changed on the inside, but she narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head.
“Let us handle this, okay?” she said. “I know it’s important to you, and it is technically your life that is in danger, but I don’t want you getting involved and using your powers. It’s not a good idea. Promise me you’ll stay out if it.”
“I promise,” I said.
I’d never lied with that straight of a face in my entire life. I didn’t plan to stay out of it. I wasn’t going to sit around idly while my potential murderer roamed free, whoever he or she was.
And I wasn’t afraid, at least not now. My heart was racing for another reason, at the thought and thrill of getting what I wanted.
The family that Julian stole from me.
“How do you bring memories back? I asked
,
to change the subject. Apparently I hadn’t chosen the right one. Mom cleared her throat and stared into her soup like something interesting was in it.
“They have to be triggered,” Sophia said. “I’m already devising a plan for your father, dear. Lydia has put me in charge of that.”
That burned, because it seemed like she’d willed her that responsibility so it would happen even in the event of her death.
“Enough negativity,” Mom said. “Tell me about Trenton.”
I relaxed in my chair and sighed, forcing myself to focus on this moment. I was having dinner with my mother. I should be grateful and cherish it and wait to plot on Kamon and the mystery person later.
I smiled at her, and her face that carried only a few of my features lit up.
“I liked it, actually,” I said. “There was a nice art gallery, and it was nothing like St. Catalina. The girl I told you about, Elizabeth, she actually talked to me. I got invited to an art show on campus tonight.”
They both applauded like I’d accomplished something major.
“You should go,” Mom said. “Otherwise, you’ll be here alone or collecting dust at Sophia’s house.” She closed her eyes. “It’s at six on campus, too public for Kamon’s style,” she said. “I could send for a car and ride over with you. At six, I’ll …” Mom opened her eyes and glanced over to Sophia.
“You’ll still be in court. I’ll bring her and pick her up after I eat dinner with Greg,” Sophia said. “And my house is
not
dusty.”
Mom rolled her eyes.
I was about to tell them to save themselves the hassle of getting me to and from the show, I didn’t really want to go, but the mischievous wheels in my head spun.
The art show and the anniversary party I’d heard my dad talking about were around the same time. I’d only miss an hour of it if I went to Trenton at six, eight his time, and snuck off to the party. There would be no harm in going to watch him sing those songs he’d promised his friend. I’d stay hidden in a corner. I’d see him. He wouldn’t see me. The art show was the perfect alibi.
“Mom, I have a question. Um … the hunter, how did he get to Trenton? I always need to see a place in my head before I go there. Had he been there before?” I stifled a smile, impressed with how good my cover was, as I baited her to tell me everything I needed to know to get to Chicago.
“Probably not. He could have used a picture, maybe from the school’s website once they got word of your location. Tonight, I’ll make sure that’s not an issue.”
“Thanks. So … he used a picture, you said?”
She nodded. “Most likely. You only need a guide, and you can
feel
when it’s safe to go there, when you won’t be spotted. These days, it’s easy because of the Internet. There are pictures of everything accessible at your fingertips. In my day, it was much more complicated.”
I chuckled. “Mom, you were nineteen when you had me. That would only make you thirty-six, right?” She nodded, and I grinned. “When’s your birthday?”
“You tell me. It’ll be your lesson for the day.”
I closed my eyes and wondered about it. It wasn’t as easy as sifting through the buzzing in the air at St. Catalina, but when I focused, the date, July 23
rd
, whispered in my ear.
“It’s coming up. We should have a party!” I said.
She smiled slightly and sipped out of her water. “Thirty-seven,” she said, to herself mostly. “God, time flies.”
Sophia changed the subject to Trenton and the classes I would take. No one mentioned that I’d foolishly proposed to throw a party for Lydia Shaw’s 37
th
birthday, weeks after she was predicted to die. Even if I found this person they couldn’t see and stopped them, who would go to the party other than me, and maybe Sophia? The most famous woman in the world didn’t have enough people in her life to celebrate anything with.
I let it go. I didn’t want to think about anything sad right now. I wanted to enjoy my mother, spy on my father, live a semblance of the normal life that Julian stole from me.
“Enjoy yourself tonight, baby. Be cautious of anyone you meet, but Sophia and I will have that place covered. Are you going to bring one of your pieces?”
I shook my head
fast,
suddenly nervous about showing my work, even though I wasn’t really planning to go to the show.
“Where will you be?” I asked.
“Rome. Court is in session in exactly two minutes. And it can’t start without the judge.” My eyebrows pushed together. “Did you think they were calling me
Your Honor
for fun?”
I laughed and shook my head. A mother. A judge.
A fabulous dresser.
She was so many things, amazing things,
a
goddess in my mind.
I couldn’t lose her.
“Bye, Super-Mom.”
She chuckled and came over to my chair. Her lips barely reached my cheek before Sophia pulled at her arm and shooed her away.
Not long after she left, Paul’s mother called with a baking crisis. Sophia whispered protection charms around the house and left to go calm her down. I’d declined the offer to tag along.
As soon as she vanished, I searched the web for Murphy’s where the anniversary party was. It was in Chicago like I’d thought it would be. Luckily, there were several pictures of the red brick building on their website.
I hopped in the tub after, for no other reason than to soak and calm my nerves. Lying to Mom was my biggest worry. I didn’t want to upset her, but I hoped to be in and out, see my dad, hear a song or two, and be on my way.
At the exact moment that my muscles relaxed, my phone rang on the floor next to the tub.
“You really are perfect, you know?” I said. Nate chuckled. “I miss you.”
“Miss you more. Paul and I are sharing a room on this big boat. Which means Paul and Em and I are sharing a room on this big boat.” We laughed, and I cranked on the hot water with my toe. “Please tell me you’re not in the tub.”
“I’m not in the tub.” I splashed around loudly on purpose, and he groaned.
“
Subject change
,” he begged. “I got your message. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I didn’t stop shaking until I heard that. Sorry I couldn’t call. Where were you earlier that I wouldn’t believe?”
I paused to think for a moment. I didn’t want to hide something as huge as having living parents from Nate, but I felt the need to clam up. Worse than I had in New Orleans when I found out I was human. It didn’t feel like the right time to tell him about how much my life had changed since last night.
“Oh, I was at Trenton College of the Arts,” I said. “I’ll probably be going to school there in August.”
He hummed. “Wow. You’re right. I wouldn’t have believed that, but that’s great. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
I swept my hand over the water, making ripples that reminded me of the magic mirror.
“So … did you see any cute guys there?” he asked.
“
So
many. I couldn’t keep count.” He whined, sounding like a wounded puppy, and I chuckled. “I didn’t notice any guys, babe. I went on the tour like Sophia and … Lydia told me to,” I said.
“Good. I don’t want to be replaced. I know how messed up it was to leave you … all bloody and scared, but Noah, Naomi, Nicholas,
Nia
, and Noel need me to have this job.” I laughed. “You can’t buy them everything. I have to help.”
“We’re not having that many kids. Just the first two.”
“Fine. Just thought I’d slip them in. I’m hiding in the pantry, by the way. I found an outlet in here.”
“Baby, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Go back to your room.”
“No, I want to talk to you.” I cranked the faucet off and lay back in the tub. He groaned like he’d heard me move. “Focus, Nate, and pretend your girlfriend is not naked right now.” I giggled. “We fed thousands of people today, Chris. It was incredible. Of course, I missed you, but it was so unreal. These people come out of their little homes crying when we get there. It’s amazing.”
“You’re staying away from the attack zones, right?” It took him too long to answer. “Nate!”
“We are, babe,” he whispered. “I thought I heard something. Sorry.”
A door slammed and the phone ruffled against something.
“I’m just hungry, man. I love … peanuts. I really
really
love peanuts.”
He hung up.
“I love you too,” I said.
Nate hated peanuts.
I rubbed my fingers across the smooth glass and cringed. The tiny vial of potion seemed so heavy in my hand.
Sophia hadn’t mixed it with anything this time. She left the green slime in its pure form, unsure of how much I would need if necessary or how long I would be out.
“You have your phone?” she asked as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of Trenton.
“Yes.”
“You will be careful?”
“Yes.”
“If you encounter Kamon or any of his hunters, you will run and not fight.” That was less of a question, more of an order. The answer stuck in my throat. I couldn’t reply with another dry
yes
after she reminded me that I didn’t have a dry life. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I waved at her through the tinted window, knowing she would see me even though I couldn’t see her. We really hadn’t needed the decoy vehicle. The front of the school was deserted and quiet. I half expected
a tumbleweed
to blow by.
I walked to the sign that said:
Summer Display, Main Gallery
. A tiny voice in my head told me to just follow the arrow and go to the art show like I’d promised. I would like it there. I would be surrounded by art and beautiful colors. But I’d rather be surrounded by my father’s music.
I closed my eyes and pictured Murphy’s, suddenly nervous that I’d searched the wrong bar or had misinterpreted Dad’s words. What if Murphy was just a friend of his and the party was at his house? I felt like an idiot for assuming where he would be tonight.
“Will my dad be at Murphy’s,
the bar
, tonight?” I asked. A moment later, I was undoubtedly sure that he would be.
Mom was right. I felt exactly when it was safe to go to the party. Like a gate had opened before me. I could almost hear it squeaking on its hinges.
I landed in front of the red bricks near the door, alone on a dark street. A couple rounded the corner a few seconds later. Perfect timing. They’d just missed an impossible sight.
I pulled my hood over my head and brushed my curls in my face to shield it. I opened the door and laughter and smoke poured out of the cramped room.
The thoughts in the air competed with the music. I heard hundreds of conversations at once – real voices, the unsaid things, the secret things, and the feelings behind them, too. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and slid into an empty booth.
The tremors Mom had taught me to recognize swept through me. I knew to stop listening, but I couldn’t. The buzzing was too loud, too powerful. I couldn’t pull away.
Worry felt different here. Not pimples and boyfriends. Their burdens were heavy. Cheating husbands, foreclosures, and all sorts of awful things crushed me into my seat.
I felt myself slipping away, growing less and less aware of the people in the bar, entranced by the buzzing, the power.
At this rate, I wouldn’t hear my dad play and this sneak out would’ve been wasted. Not to mention that I would expose human powers if I lost control of mine.
My hand trembled as it wrapped around the potion in my bag. I needed something to discreetly dump it into. Tilting a glass of glowing, lime green liquid into my mouth would probably cause as much trouble as my kidnapping did.
I waved over a waiter. The red skullcap on his head fell to the ground. I froze. I knew I’d knocked it off, but he didn’t notice. He picked it up and jogged over to my booth.
His name was the first thing that came to me. Drake Fisher. He was eighteen, despite what the thick beard on his face suggested. His thoughts screamed so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t understand them, too blurred and mixed with the other clatter in the room.
“What can I get you?” Drake asked.
“I need a drink.” My voice came out as desperate as I felt.
“Got some ID?”
“I meant a soda. Coke.”
“Oh, right away.”
Every minute it took for him to return with my drink, I sank a little deeper, drowning in screaming thoughts and adult anxiety.
“Coke, hold the Jack,” Drake said, chuckling and handing me a straw.
“Thanks.”
As soon as he stepped away, I opened a menu and shielded my cup. I dumped half of the vial into my drink and sucked it down as fast as I could.
The screams turned to whispers, and the emotions of the people around me drained from my chest. If I would’ve been with Mom right then, I would have asked her why the hell anyone would ever train to deliberately feel that way. Moving things without having to get up was one thing, convenient, but feeling the pain of others was another. It wasn’t worth being psychic in my book.
When I felt like myself again, I searched the foggy, blue-lit room for my father. I was severely out of place here. Everyone looked to be in
their
thirties or forties. They were dressed in business-casual like they’d all come from work. Or maybe it was how adults dressed for parties, all of them except the man in the white t-shirt and black jeans sitting on the bar. His tattooed arm was around the neck of a very drunk man, and they were singing about some guy named Benny and his jets to the top of their lungs.
The woman I’d seen my father singing with through the mirror three months ago climbed up on the bar next to the
drunk
guy. She kissed my father’s friend, and I smiled. She wasn’t his girlfriend. Maybe he was still single and available to fall back in love with Mom …
if
his memories came back without harming him and
if
I didn’t kill her.
“Happy 10
th
anniversary, Ken and Meg!” Dad shouted.
The crowd joined him and cheered for the couple. Ken and Meg hadn’t stopped kissing. Dad hopped down and ran to the little stage in the front of the bar, and I sat on my feet so I could see him. He started tuning a guitar, getting ready to play and make my night.
Ken stumbled on stage and grabbed the microphone. The speakers screeched, turning all heads to him.
“Thanks for coming to our party,” he slurred. “Meg? Where’s Meg?” A huddle of women pointed at Meg dancing on the bar to no music. “I met Meg eleven years ago. Gavin said, ‘Hey, she looks like your type.’ Remember,
Gav
?” My father nodded in the corner, still tuning his guitar. “Anyway, my buddy introduced me to her and we’ve been together ever since.” The crowd applauded, and Ken stumbled back before catching his balance. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, my buddy is going to sing the song he sang at our wedding.”
“No, I’m not,”
Dad
said.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“He is,” Ken said to the crowd. “And I’m going to dance with my
smokin
’ hot wife before you old geezers go home before ten.
Gav
, you remember when we used to rock this place to five in the morning? The good ole’ days when…” My dad pulled the microphone from his friend’s hands, laughing like he was about to say something inappropriate.
Ken stumbled back to the bar and, rather clumsily, helped his wife down and pulled her to the middle of the floor.
“Thanks for coming out – uh – everyone. I’m only going to do one more song since the happy couple is already
three sheets to the wind
,” Dad said. “You guys know I’m not good at speeches and such. But – uh –” He ruffled his short curls as he paused. “I forgot what I was going to say, but … buddy, we’ve had some good times and even better times, and I’m happy for you. And – uh – to show it, I’ll sing the song you two love so much.”
He pulled up a stool and sat with his guitar in his lap. I braced my hand against my heart so it wouldn’t explode out of my chest and land on the table. The song was slow and beautiful, about love being all he needed to live. The dancing couple sang along like they’d heard it a million times. Other couples joined them on the small dance floor and swayed to Dad’s amazing tenor voice.
I wanted to run to him and tell him
who
I was, but I knew I had to wait. I closed my eyes as he sang his friends a love song. I pretended he was singing about Mom and she was right here next to me, listening to him too. I pretended that our lives were normal and we knew Meg and Ken, not that a dangerous man had forced Mom to make all three of us live separate lives.
“A fan?” Drake asked.
I opened my eyes and lowered my hand from my heart.
“Of music?” I asked.
“Of Gavin. Most people who come here come to hear him play. He used to be some famous backup guitarist if there is such a thing. I’ve never heard of him, myself, but these people have.”
My dad was a famous backup. I could believe it. He was talented enough to have his own records, be on the radio, but he seemed happy up there on the little stage. Comfortable.
“I’ve never heard his music. I’m just here to hang out.”
He took that as an invitation to sit.
“I’m Drake,” he said. I knew that already. I craned my neck to the stage. He was blocking my view of my dad. He moved his ton-sized, mildly attractive, head back in my way. “And you are…”
“Christine.”
“I thought you were going to say Leah.” I squinted my eyes at him, and he laughed. I hadn’t felt my hood bundled on my neck until then, no longer covering my head. “Come on. Everyone knows who you are.”
“Great.”
“I mean, you’re famous.
You were trending
earlier,
some girl said she saw you. Do you have a private jet or something? How’d you get here so fast?” I wanted to smack myself for not thinking about how odd it looked to suddenly be in Chicago when I had been spotted in L. A. a few hours ago. “I have to ask. Why did you do it? I was picked on in high school too, but I didn’t stage a kidnapping. Don’t you think that was a little dramatic?” I sighed, and he laughed. “Unless you didn’t make it up.”
“I didn’t. You got me, Drake. The witch is my friend. She cooks for me every day and tucks me in, so if you’ll just…” I motioned for him to leave my booth so I could catch the rest of the song.
“You’re funny. Even if there were living witches, one wouldn’t cook for you. Maybe she’d cook
you
.” He shivered, an ingrained human response to magic.
The crowd applauded and Dad took a bow. Stupid Drake had made me miss the rest of the song. I sat on my hands, straining against the urge to make his body fly to the other end of the bar.
In an attempt to get to know me better, Drake told me all about his band, The Whispering Willows, who mostly screamed their lyrics. I smirked at the irony. The conversation reminded me of the countless ones I’d had with Whitney without saying a word or giving any inclination that I wanted it to continue. I’d resorted to staring at the bubbles in my Coke and stirring my straw to upset them again when they settled.
“Young Drake, you have to learn to notice when a lady is not interested in you.” I snapped my head up and smiled. My father was standing at the end of my booth, holding a tray out to Drake. “Murphy said to tell you to get back to work.”
Drake groaned and scooted out of the booth. “I wasn’t hitting on her. I figured if I told a famous girl about my band, I’d be famous too.”
“Famous?” Dad asked.
“She’s Leah Grant,” Drake said. “You know … the girl who lied and said a witch took her from school.”
“I never said that. Everyone assumed that.”
Dad leaned into the table and tilted his head slightly, taking in my face. “You know what I think?” I shook my head, trying to push myself into a shadowy corner. He was staring too hard and too long. I wondered how long it would take for him to see his face in mine. The potion made that just a question. My dulled powers didn’t rev. “I think a witch
did
take you, and the government covered it up.”
My heart pounded as he theorized too close to the truth. Drake tapped my dad on the shoulder. “Gavin, your friend just face planted on the dance floor.”
“Oh, God.” He ran to his friend who looked dead in the middle of the floor, and I scrambled out of the booth.
It was time to go. I knew that. I felt it. Nothing good could come of staying any longer. I shouldn’t have talked to him. Now, when Mom recovered his memories, he’d remember I was here tonight.
I threw a few ones on the table for the drink and ran out of the door. On the lonely street, I shut my eyes and tried to move myself to Trenton.
My body wouldn’t go. Wouldn’t move.
I grunted. The kryptonite had stranded me in Chicago. I could’ve called Sophia, but I preferred to wait for my powers to return. I didn't think she or Mom would seriously yell at me, but they'd probably keep a closer eye on me. And as soon as I was able to bring myself home, I was going to start searching for the mysterious murderer they couldn’t see. I didn't need more attention from them.
The street in front of the club was dead and windy. Both directions looked hunted, crowded with ghostly shadows. I went left, towards the sound of squealing breaks and rumbling engines, hopefully the promise of a livelier street.
I obviously hadn’t thought the night through, but at least I’d heard my father sing and the added bonus of talking to him. It was overwhelming how much I suddenly wanted more. It was as though years of my life were falling away as I walked down the quiet street. My lips quivered and my eyes watered like I was seven, not seventeen. Leaving my daddy, not a man I didn’t know. I desperately wanted to run in the opposite direction to him. I wanted to know him as badly as I’d ever wanted anything in my life – staying alive at St. Catalina, for Nate to look past my faults, for Mom to be herself and not Lydia to me.
