Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1) (8 page)

I nodded, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes. The scene ran through my head again and I felt my chin tremble and tears behind my eyes.

“Hey, it’s gonna be all right. Shh.” He pulled me into his arms. “You know, what you saw? That’s not what it’s supposed to be like. Don’t let it mess you up, please?”

I didn’t let myself dissolve; I hung on and simply breathed in the scent of aftershave and soap and felt myself calming down.

He gently disengaged and stood up, shouldering my bag yet again. “Come on, I’ll walk you out to your car.”

CHAPTER SIX

“The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.”

–Winston Churchill

On Saturday morning Grams took me out to breakfast to The Range Cafe. Over Huevos Rancheros for me and fruit and oatmeal for her, she told me that she’d set up an appointment with a friend of hers for later in the morning.

“Cassandra McTeague is an old friend of mine who, I think, might be able to give us some help and advice,” Grams said over a final cup of tea.

“What does she do? Why would she be able to give us advice?” I wondered as I sopped up the last of the red chile sauce with a tortilla. Huevos Rancheros is a real farm-hand kind of breakfast, one that my slender grandmother would never consider indulging in, but hey, I might as well enjoy my teenage metabolism while I can.

“Cassandra is a very powerful Seer, and although I had my doubts about it when she started, she has set up shop as a sort of fortune teller. I can’t really approve, but she seems to make it work.”

I pictured a toothless old woman, swathed in scarves, waving her hands over a crystal ball. Or maybe she was a gypsy, reading people’s fortunes in tarot. Maybe we would have to cross her palms with silver. Which is why I was surprised when my grandmother pulled into a parking spot in front of a newly renovated, ultra-modern office building in downtown Albuquerque. I had fully expected us to head to one of the skeezier areas of town, like along Central Ave. I gave Grams a surprised look; she shrugged and got out of the car. I followed her inside to an office suite labeled
McTeague and Associates Lifestyle and Wellness Coaching
in burnished silver lettering. I could swear Grams hmmphed as we entered. A gorgeous blond young man greeted us as we approached the reception desk.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” He had one of those phone headsets on and looked very official. He was wasting his talents here; he should clearly be a model. Grams informed him that we had an appointment with Ms. McTeague. “Please have a seat. It will be a few minutes.”

We sat on one of the plush grey couches that furnished the waiting room. “Grams,” I whispered, “why did you bring me here if you don’t like this lady?”

“Not like her? Who says I don’t like her? I like Cassandra very much! She’s one of my oldest friends.”

“But,” I sputtered, “you said she was a fortune teller and you didn’t approve.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like her, dear. We don’t always approve of everything our friends do, but Cassandra is very gifted.” At that moment, the beautiful receptionist—I’m sorry, guys
can
be beautiful, and this was one beautiful hunk of man—called us to follow him back for our appointment. He ushered us into a large, well-appointed office.

“Adele, how are you, dear?” An attractive black woman in her maybe mid-to-late forties rose from behind a desk and gave my grandmother a hug, kissing both her cheeks. “You look wonderful! And this must be Alethiea.” Her voice was pitched low and smooth.

“Cassie, it’s been far too long,” said Grams. “The new office space is lovely, much better than that musty old space in Nob Hill.”

“Yes, well, this recession has actually been good for my business. So many people are desperate to reinvent themselves. Now, both of you have a seat and let’s see what we have.”

She sat beside me on one of the couches while Grams sat in an armchair. I waited for the questions to begin and was therefore surprised, yet again, when Cassandra took my hand and began rubbing it between hers, closing her eyes in apparent concentration.

“Umm,” I began.

“Shh,” Cassandra soothed.

I raised my eyebrows at Grams, who shook her head slightly. Cassandra continued rubbing my hand for several more minutes while Grams and I sat quietly, waiting.

At last she sighed, set my hand in my lap with a pat, and sat back on the couch, saying, “Wow.”

“Cassie?” Grams sounded worried.

“Adele, your granddaughter has a great amount of power coursing through her mind right now. I can literally feel the electricity humming through her veins.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Ms. McTeague, you can tell that just by touching my hand?”

“Please, Ally, call me Cassie. Yes, my gift comes through touching another person. I can tell a lot by touching you. If you will concentrate now on one of the visions your grandmother told me about, I’ll be able to see it through you.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s incredible! And scary.”

Both Grams and Cassie laughed.

“I’m serious. This stuff is freaking me out,” I cried.

Cassie took my hand again, soothing it between her warm palms. “Ally, it’s all right. I know this is disturbing, especially what Adele has described to me. I can help you make sense of it all. Close your eyes and concentrate on your first vision.”

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back to the first vision I’d had of Veronica in English class. I saw her leaning against her bathroom cabinet, then looking at the pregnancy test and dissolving into tears. I felt her sink down to the bathmat.

I opened my eyes when Cassie put my hand back in my lap with a soft pat.

“These visions are so unusually strong,” Cassie said, surprised. “I thought you must be exaggerating, Adele. I’ve never heard of a Seer having such clear visions. And she
hears
what is being said. That is exceptionally rare.”

“So, she is a Seer?”

“That is not yet known. It certainly appears she is headed down that path, but she’s young; much can happen before her 18th birthday.” Now she sounded like a fortune teller. “Her prophetic gift is quite astounding.”

“But these visions aren’t of the future. These things have already happened,” I interjected.

“Yes, that’s true. But I’m using the word ‘prophetic’ in a general sense, for an uncovering of the truth. How do
you
know the visions have already happened?” Cassie asked me.

“I don’t know how, I just
know.
Cassie, I don’t know what to do with these visions. Grams says they’re always meant to help people, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help Veronica.” I could feel tears welling up, but I willed them back; I had cried more in the past few days than in the past few years.

“I don’t have all the answers, Ally. I do know that your grandmother is correct; a true Seer is always called in a time of great need. You need to listen and be open to what these visions are trying to tell you. The path will be revealed.” More fortune teller speak.

“But I passed out yesterday when I had a vision. That’s going to be very inconvenient.”

“Now, there I can help you. I can teach you some ‘tricks of the trade’ that could help you learn to cope with these visions and eventually control them. If you continue on the path of a Seer, you may well begin to experience other types of powers.”

Grams looked at her sharply when she said this. “Cassie?”

“Adele, I think she should be prepared,” Cassie said quietly. Grams continued to look at her for a moment, then nodded slightly.

“Now,” said Cassie, “let’s set a time for me to see Ally privately, perhaps later this week, to begin her lessons.” She scribbled something on a pad. “Give this to my receptionist. He’ll get you scheduled. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paying clients to attend to.”

As we drove home, Grams seemed unusually quiet and lost in thought. “Grams,” I ventured, “what was all that about ‘the path of the Seer’? I gotta be honest, it sounds pretty crazy.”

“I know, honey,” she sighed. “Most people would think we
are
crazy. That’s why true Seers tend to keep it to themselves. The ones who advertise themselves as psychics and the like rarely have any true power.”

“So is that why you disapprove of what Cassie’s doing? The life-coaching gig?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It seems a bit dubious to me. I love her dearly, but I can’t approve of making money with a gift of this sort.”

“Well, you called her a fortune teller, Grams. I was picturing something you’d find at a carnival, not that sleek set-up she has. That was totally impressive.”

“Yes, well, I admit she seems to have done well for herself. And I’m sure she doesn’t pull out a crystal ball for her clients. At least I hope not,” she finished with a mutter. “But I digress. You asked about the ‘path of the Seer.’”

“Yeah. Cassie said ‘if’ I follow the path. Is there a choice?”

“Of course. There’s always a choice, Ally. Always remember that.”

“So how do I follow the path? What happens if I decide not to follow it? And how do I know what the right choice is?”

“Whoa, slow down. Cassie will be able to help you figure all these things out, which is why your mother and I decided it was time for you to see her. This has gone beyond either of us.”

“Grams, I’m scared by all of this. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t think I can help Veronica.”

She reached over and patted my hand. “It will all turn out to be all right, you’ll see. Now, why don’t we talk about something different? Why don’t you tell me how things are progressing with that young man of yours?”

“He’s not ‘my young man,’” I protested. “I don’t even know what that means. We’re friends. I think. I mean, I’ve only really known him for a couple weeks. I hope we’re friends.”

“Of course, you’re friends. Anyone can see that. A more discerning person, like myself, can see that there’s more to it than mere friendship though, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Grams.” I dropped my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. “Of course I hope there’s more to it, but I don’t think he agrees.”

“You don’t see what the rest of us see,” Grams said.

“I wish that were true. But Grams, he has
issues.
He thinks he’s too old for me because he’s 18. And he’s on probation.”

“Yes, well, he’s managed to turn himself around. Be patient with him, Ally. Give him some time. He has a good heart. I can tell.” She gave me a secretive smirk, which for some reason both of us found hilarious.

***

The next week at school was fairly uneventful as far as Veronica was concerned. We did nothing more than exchange the barest of greetings. At this rate we would be graduated before I was able to figure anything out. Equally concerning, at least to me, was my relationship, or lack thereof, with Jack. Was it my imagination, or did he seem to be cooling off toward me? Last week we had been laughing, spending time texting, and talking at lunch. This week he seemed more distant. We still worked together in physics, but he seemed to sit farther away from me. In English he didn’t lean forward near as often to crack a joke. And worst of all, he didn’t text me in the evenings. There were no offers of a ride home in his newly painted Mustang. What had I done? Did he decide I was too freaky? Had he found someone he liked better? Someone maybe closer to his own age, like some skanky senior girl? The possibility of a
nice
senior girl was, of course, impossible.

Thank goodness for Tara. She patiently listened and made all the appropriate noises and gestures. She had been there for me two years ago during the Travis fiasco and I had always been there for her when her heart was broken. Tara had a lot more experience than I did when it came to dating, but was currently single. My experience with Travis—you try being dumped for another
guy
—had put me off the whole dating scene. Well, that and my total lack of popularity. It’s not that I lack any attractive qualities; I can be objective enough to admit that I have a few. I have fairly nice features, no giant nose or anything, and I have nice skin. I’m not at all fat, but I am pretty short—really short, like 5’ 1’’. And the red hair is definitely an acquired taste. I was really hoping that Jack had acquired it. Tara, on the other hand, is tall and model-thin, yet with nice curves, broad shoulders and a flair for making whatever she happens to throw on look amazing. I hate her sometimes. She never seems to pine for a guy; if she likes him then of course he likes her. Why wouldn’t he? She totally goes for it, even asks a guy out if she wants to. And the guys always accept.

“So, just ask him. What’s the big deal?” Tara asked while painting her nails with my new light blue nail polish in my bedroom.

“I don’t know.” I flopped back on the bed. “I can’t! It’s not like that.”

“It’s always like
that,
Ally. Ask him already. If he’s not interested, then move on. But I think he’s interested.” She blew on her nails to dry them.

I sat up quickly. “What? Why? What did he say?” I grabbed for her hands.

“Hey! Watch the nails!” She pulled them out of my reach. “He didn’t
say
anything. At least not to me. I can just tell. It’s the way he looks at you. The way he’s always rescuing you, whether you need it or not.”