Lucid (12 page)

I paused loading my glass into the dishwasher, my happiness for my mom taking a bittersweet turn with her inadvertent reminder that my aunt had left on a mission to find out what was up with her brother. Mom didn’t know Sage had kept in touch with him or that I’d requested a talk with my dad to learn more about my powers. After he’d left us with no explanation when I was five, it took Mom years to stop wearing her wedding ring. And it was just in the past couple of months that she’d started to show emotion around me like she used to when I was little. For now, it was for the best she didn’t know anything. “Oh, Aunt Sage flew to Florida for vacation yesterday,” I said.

Mom blinked, looking a bit hurt. “Really? I know Sage and I don’t talk often, but she usually tells me if she’s going to be gone.”

“She asked me to let you know. Sorry, it slipped my mind with everything that happened.”

Mom’s tense expression relaxed as she swept the crumbs off our placemats into the trash. “Well, good for her. It’s about time she went on vacation. She hasn’t had one in years.”

As I loaded Mom’s silverware into the dishwasher, I nodded my agreement, while mentally reminding myself to warn my aunt
where
I’d said she’d been while she was away.

An hour later, after a long hot shower, I crawled into bed. I was completely exhausted. It had been a very long, emotionally draining day. After I’d pulled my covers to my chin, I realized that I’d been so distracted by everything, I hadn’t checked my phone for hours.

Crawling out of bed, I grabbed my phone from my backpack, then dove back under the covers. When I saw I had a few texts, I bit my lip and scrolled through, expecting them to be from Ethan. He was probably freaking out again.

There weren’t any from Ethan. I was a bit surprised and slightly disappointed, but also relieved. He didn’t need to worry about me when he was so far away. Everything turned out fine…and for that I was very thankful.

There were three texts from Lainey and one from Drystan.
Drystan?
How’d he get my number? Lainey, of course. I sighed as I opened Lainey’s texts.

Lainey – 6:22 p.m. ~ Police protection
?!
Ack! I don’t want my dad’s buddies following me around everywhere. Can you imagine the crap they’d report back to him
?

Lainey – 8:05 p.m. ~ Good news! They found the poacher who’d buried those illegal traps on our land. He’s in custody now. He had an unregistered gun that had been recently fired. I’m SO relieved
!

Lainey – 8:18 p.m. ~ Dang
!
Dad said the protection stands. At least until they confirm if the poacher has an alibi for this afternoon, yada yada. Grrrr.

Me – 9:50 p.m. ~ Thanks for the update. Guess you’ll have to be on your best behavior. Am SO glad I’m busy tomorrow. *snickers*

Lainey – 9:53 p.m. ~ Just for that last comment, you’re also trying on dresses, not just watching me
!

I grimaced at her last text, then opened Drystan’s.

Drystan – 8:45 p.m. ~ Just wanted to check if you’re okay
?

Me – 9:57 p.m. ~ That was pretty close, but I’m fine. You?

Drystan – 10:04 p.m. ~ I wasn’t the one being shot at!

Me – 10:05 p.m. ~ Thank you for saving me
!
You ah, realize you’re going to have to tell me how you knew, right
?

I expected a response back right away. After five minutes of silence, I set my phone down, frustration knotting my stomach. Guess I wasn’t getting one.

Drystan – 10:15 p.m. ~ Only if you tell me how I was able to see myself saving you from getting shot in the chest; that’s where the bullet probably would’ve hit you if I hadn’t gotten to you first.

Way to sugarcoat it, Drystan
! I blinked at his message, my heart racing. Obviously I hadn’t seen myself get shot, so did he have some kind of ability too? I blinked at his message several times, processing as my mind raced between surprise over his revelation and the idea I’d almost been shot. God, I’d almost been shot! The knot in my stomach turned to nausea.

How was me getting shot possible? Lainey was the one who was shot in my dream. Yes, I’d prevented the shooting and therefore changed how the rest of my day would unfold. I’d been surprised Fate didn’t shock me when I tried to stop Lainey, but Drystan’s comment sent a chill of dread slamming through me. Was I the intended target the whole time? Lainey
had
been wearing my red hat while traipsing through the woods. She also had on her black wool pea coat and her hair was in a braid, making it hard to tell it was red from a distance. She could’ve been mistaken for me. Was that why Fate let me stop her, because I was supposed to get shot?
Twisted bastard!

But wait…in the chest? That meant that whomever had shot at me wasn’t in the woods at all, but had been located either beside Lainey’s house, or possibly in the woods across the street from Lainey’s house. Was Lainey the target or me?

Drystan – 10:18 p.m. ~ You there
?

I stared at my text screen. I
knew
Drystan had some kind of ability. At least my subconscious knew. He’d found that misfiled microfiche in no time, as if he’d known exactly where to look. He was also the one who’d found Lochlan. We could’ve been in those woods for hours looking for the poor little Jack.
Jack!
Drystan’s comment from that day in the woods came back to me.

“
I was just thinking that Lochlan’s an interesting name for a smallish dog...but I suppose it probably suits a Jack
.”

How had Drystan known that Lainey’s dog was a Jack Russell? Neither Lainey nor I had told him, and he hadn’t been in Lainey’s house to see pictures of her dad hunting with his dog on the fridge.

Even though I wanted to know how his ability worked, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share mine with him.

Me – 10:20 p.m. ~ I’m here. Not sure what you’re talking about with your earlier text. That’s freaky, which reminds me…how did you know Lainey’s dog was a Jack that day we went looking for him
?
We never told you what kind of dog he was.

Drystan – 10:23 p.m. ~ Distraction
?
That’s your answer
?
The only way I knew he was a Jack was because I saw myself laying him in Lainey’s arms! Seeing
myself
…
in the future
, those are both new to me. The only common factor in both cases (the shooting and Loch) was YOU
.

I bit my lip, dying of curiosity to know what his ability was. And why did being around me change his? When I didn’t respond right away, Drystan sent another text.

Drystan – 10:26 p.m. ~ I’ll share if you do. In person. Otherwise, according to my uncle, I’m brilliant at denial. See you tomorrow
.

Chapter Ten

My planned visit with my great aunt Corda, whom I’d always called Gran, made a great excuse to avoid seeing Drystan in the parking lot at the end of the day. Drystan might be “brilliant at denial,” but he’d soon learn that I was “phenomenal at avoidance.” Lainey was too distracted by her new bodyguards and her ongoing flirtation with Matt to give me a hard time about leaving early.

On the way to Westminster’s Retirement Community, I stopped by Mocha Java’s and grabbed a very large latte. Last night, I’d been so keyed up from everything that had happened and then Drystan’s revelation, I didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I’d only slept for a couple of hours before Patch’s morning window pecking woke me.

After I took a drawing gulp of my coffee, I mumbled, “Here’s to the adventure at Gran’s. I hope she’s having a sharp day.” I had no idea how she’d react to my surprise visit. I usually let her know when I was coming. At seventy-eight, Gran had memory lapses and moments of non-clarity, but she could also be so sharply keen, where nothing got past her. Guess we were both in for surprises today, since I’d only dreamed as far as school ending before Patch woke me.

Twenty minutes later, I knocked on Gran’s apartment door. “Be there in a minute,” Gran called out, but when she didn’t answer within a couple of minutes, and I heard sounds of heavy shuffling behind the closed door, I jostled the doorknob.

“Gran! It’s Inara. Are you okay?”

“Yeah—” More shuffling, then a sliding sound. “Just…give…me…a…sec.” She’d heaved out the last word right before she opened the door, green eyes full of excitement. Several tall boxes surrounded my great-aunt, making her petite cardigan-framed body look even frailer. “What a lovely surprise! Ooh, I like your new jacket. And the red scarf is so smart with it,” she said, kissing me on the cheek before pulling me inside to stand in her box-scattered entryway.

Gran smelled like SweeTarts. I’d bet ten dollars she had a few pieces of the candy sitting in her light green cardigan’s pocket. To say my great-aunt had a sweet tooth would be an understatement. Maybe that meant she’d given up on gummy worms as a fertilizer source for her plants, I thought with a wry smile. “Thanks Gran. Aunt Sage gave me the jacket and Lainey gave me the scarf for early birthday presents.”

“Ah, yes, your birthday’s in a couple of weeks. The big seventeen.” She closed the door behind me, singing, “Sexy and Seventeen.”

I coughed past my embarrassment and turned to the boxes, counting five in the hall and three in the living room. “What’s with all the boxes?” Gran had been at Westminster for years. I had no idea where these boxes came from.

“It’s Storage Wars!” Gran declared, wiry gray eyebrows raised in glee.

“Storage wars?” I weaved around the opened boxes and wrapping paper strewn across her living room floor, following Gran into the kitchen, where she reached into a smaller box she’d set on her table.

“Clara and I have gotten hooked on that show.” She pulled out a package wrapped in newspaper and began to unravel it. “And since we both had storage units, we decided to have a little storage war of our own.”

Oh no
!
Clara again.
I really hoped Gran found something that would trump whatever her neighbor found among her storage stuff. Gran and Clara had an ongoing who’s-the-best rivalry, and I’d gotten pulled into it the last time. I gestured to the boxes. “And how will you and Clara determine who has a better haul?”

Gran’s lips tilted in amusement. “This time it’s not about winning. It’s about remembering. When you get my age, Inara, unpacking stuff you haven’t seen in eons is like seeing it for the first time. Except memories eventually come flooding back. That makes it even better.” A pause. “Well, usually.” Shaking her head as if to clear it, she continued, “Clara and I plan to take trips down memory lane and share our stories.”

She glanced at the item in her hand and finished unwrapping it. It was a hand-painted Williamsburg blue pitcher with small pink flowers. “This was from an art class I took with Margaret fourteen years ago.” A smirk formed on her lips as she turned the pitcher around in her gnarled hands. “Not my best work, but the class wasn’t really about that.”

My grandparents on my dad’s side had passed away several years before I was born. I didn’t remember my mom’s parents—Margaret was Gran’s sister—because they’d died in a car accident when I was little. Taking a sip of my coffee, I nodded to the pitcher. “Not about art? What was it about then?”

Sadness crept into Gran’s eyes, her shaky hands spreading around the pitcher. “Margaret and I had started taking classes together a couple of times a year at CVU so we could do something fun, like we used to when we lived in the same house as kids. This was the last class I took with my little sister before that stupid drunk driver cut her life short.” She ran her fingers over the flowers, her bitter tone turning wistful. “The last memories I have are of her laughing at my silly pitcher.”

I ran my fingertip over one of the flowers. So what if they weren’t all perfectly even? “Silly? It’s practical. You can use it for water or as a vase and fill it with sunflowers.”

“A vase?” Gran’s eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea. When sunflowers are in season, I’ll do that. The bright yellow and blue combination will be striking, a perfect reminder of Margaret.”

I tilted my head. “And what did my grandmother make that she felt she could tease you about your pitcher?”

“Oh, Margaret was very talented. Her project ripped mine right out of the volcano.”

Gran’s mangled sayings resembled a pair of mismatched socks…in polka dots and argyle. Still, they always made me smile.

“Here, I’ll show you—” Gran shuffled over to another small box that sat on her couch. As she riffled through it, the label on the side read: Margaret’s Stuff.

I blinked when she held out a package that had been carefully bundled in bubble wrap. “You do the honors, Inara. I want to watch your face when you see
just
how talented your grandmother was.”

As I started to take it, she pulled back slightly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait, you’ve already seen this, haven’t you?”

I shook my head and snorted. Gran and my aunt Sage were the only two family members who knew about my gift. “I didn’t sleep well last night and was woken before I saw my whole day, so I never saw this visit with you.”

“Good.” Smugness filled her gaze as she pushed the package my way, eyes twinkling with pride. “Go on, open it.”

I broke the tape and began to unwrap the “masterpiece,” expecting to see an intricately painted coffee mug. When a black raven statue with piercing eyes rolled out of the packaging into my hand, I stared at it in surprise.

“It looks so real it takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” Gran said, running her fingers along the bird’s back. My grandmother had carved each feather in painstaking detail, even giving the bird personality in the way she formed its head, tilting it just slightly as if the bird were looking right at you.

“Yes, it does,” I whispered. “Why did she choose a raven?”

Gran chuckled. “I blame an earlier classmate from our watercolor class for that. Freddie had painted a stunning raven and my sister was so impressed, she got to know him better, asking how he could draw with such amazing clarity.” She rubbed her nose, then sneezed. “Turns out he raised them.”