Wraithsong (10 page)

“
Oh?” My mom’s eyes light
up and she sounds pleased.

“
I have a question for you,
but it’s kind of random,” I finally say.

“
Sure, go ahead.” She takes
a bite of lasagna.

“
I’ve been wondering, are
there any people who are immune to a Huldra’s flair? I mean, if
they were just really strong-minded individuals or something that
make them different from the average person?”

She smiles. “Well, if there
are, I’ve never met one.”

“
What about you and Dad? I
know you were in love, but wasn’t he immune?” I ask.

“
Yes, but that was because
I gave him the antidote even before we shared our first kiss,” she
says.

“
What’s the antidote?” I
think my mom will dodge my question, like she has so many times
before.

She pauses and takes a sip
of her white wine. “I suppose it can’t hurt if I tell you now. It’s
not part of the ceremony, so I don’t think I’d be breaking any
rules by telling you. The antidote comes from the Tree of
Life.”

“
Like the Tree of Life from
the Bible?” I have heard about it in religion class, and I lean
forward, eager to hear more.

She nods. “Yes, the very
one.” She traces the edges of her wine glass with her middle
finger.

“
But no one knows where the
tree is,” I say, not really knowing if that’s a fact or
not.

My mom smiles. “That’s
true, but we still have the elixir.”

“
So are Huldras the only
ones who have that elixir?” I’m trying to figure out if Anthony
might have it. He does seem very into Huldras, since he had a
drawing of one in his treasure chest.

“
Yes, only the Huldras
received it,” she says.

I gather that Anthony
definitely doesn’t have the elixir then, so my question remains
unanswered. Why hasn’t he responded to me? Maybe there’s something
wrong with me. “So, is there a way I could lose my
flair?”

“
No, of course not. It’s
something you’re born with. You can’t lose your genetic code, now
can you?”

“
I guess not.” Then I have
an idea. “Savannah hasn’t been as…subservient as I thought she’d
be.”

My mom’s eyebrows rise.
“Oh?”

“
No, I asked her to do me a
favor, and she rejected me,” I say with a huff.

She squints her eyes. “Are
you sure you were clear in your communication with her?”

“
Yes, crystal clear.” I’ve
been very clear with Anthony, and he still rejected
me—majorly.

“
That does sound
suspicious. The only other beings that are immune to a Huldra are
other Huldras.”

I feel like I’ve got my
mom on a roll now and I hope she tells me more. Well Anthony’s a
guy, so he can’t be a Huldra, but then a thought pops into my mind.
“There aren’t any
guy
Huldras, are there?”

“
There
have been eleven that we have known of in the history of the world,
but five of them mysteriously vanished and the rest of them died
during wars throughout history. They’re called
Huldus
.”

Is it possible that Anthony
is a Huldu? The thought seems almost too far-fetched.

“
I’ve never met one, but my
sister has,” my mom says. “The one who went mi—” She doesn’t finish
the sentence, but her bottom lip starts trembling. She takes a deep
breath as if to compose herself and continues. “Contrary to what
myths say, Huldus are not ugly at all. Supposedly, they are as
stunningly handsome as Huldras are beautiful and even Huldras find
them irresistible.”

That’s the only explanation
that fits so far and even though it sounds outlandish and highly
improbable, I’m going to find out if Anthony is indeed a Huldu. I
take my mom’s hand in mine and squeeze it gently. “I really hope
they find your sister…my aunt.”

Chapter 10

On Monday, school can’t end
soon enough because I obsess all day about Anthony and the
possibility of him being a Huldu. Normally I’m a serious student,
but today, I’m not able to pay attention to the teachers in the
least. Most students seem restless and are ready for summer
vacation, so I suppose I fit in.

I’ve convinced myself that
there’s definitely a possibility that Anthony’s a Huldu. There’s no
other explanation for him not responding to my flair and perhaps he
has even tried to get me to respond to his flair. I smirk. We could
be playing the same game, he and I, and that might be why he
invited me to his house and kissed me on the collarbone. I remember
him seeming very surprised when I didn’t submit to his request to
join him for volleyball. Maybe he acted that way because his flair
didn’t work on me. It’s a stretch, but a stretch I’m willing to
investigate further. All these things can’t just be coincidences,
can they? Now I just have to put my theory to the test.

When the day is finally
over, I lock myself in the girl’s handicapped bathroom stall,
change my clothes, undo my hair, letting it fall down my back and
shoulders, and apply some more make-up. When I’m finished, I stare
at myself in the full-length mirror. What am I doing? This is
ridiculous—desperate, even. I’m wearing an ivory mini skirt, a teal
camisole top, that shows a little of my cleavage, and cork and
leather wedges. I never dress like this, but then I remember that I
need to do this or I may never know if Anthony is like me and it
will drive me crazy not knowing. I spray on a dash of perfume, and
I’m ready to approach Anthony. No matter what happens, I promise
myself that after today, I’ll stop this insanity and stick to the
promise I made to my mom.

I head over to the
greenhouse, feeling self-conscious about my skimpy outfit, but
knowing I need to act confidently, if I want some answers. As I
near the glasshouse, I spot Anthony inside. My stomach turns into a
million little butterflies at the sight of him and I take a deep
breath before opening the squeaky front door. I remind myself of my
purpose and to stay focused and not get distracted by
him.

When I enter, Anthony
immediately looks up at me, but doesn’t even so much as nod to
acknowledge me once our eyes meet.

“
We’re not working together
anymore.” He doesn’t even seem to notice my outfit I worked so hard
to put together.

“
I’m not here to weed.” I
roll my eyes. “Did you really think I’d be weeding in this outfit
and these shoes?” I say, just to draw a little more attention to my
ensemble.

“
Then why are you here?” He
grunts as he lifts a huge plastic bag up onto a wood
dolly.

He’s being difficult, but
that doesn’t deter me at all, and in fact brings out the
competitive side in me. “I’m here…to talk.” I sound sure of myself,
but I’m nothing of the sort.

“
I don’t have time to
talk.” He lifts another bag up onto the dolly. “I have to get to my
soccer practice after this.”

“
Then
when
do
you have time to talk?” I ask, taking a step
closer.

Anthony exhales sharply and
looks me in the eyes. “Never.”

Never? Why is he acting so
standoffish? I must have done something wrong for him to never want
to talk to me again. “You said we could be friends,” I
press.

“
Well, I changed my mind. I
have a girlfriend now, and she doesn’t like you.”

I feel like he just punched
me in the stomach. A girlfriend? “How could she not like me? She
doesn’t even know me, and if you’re referring to the blonde beach
bimbo, you might want to get—”

He interrupts me. “Just let
me be, okay? I’d like for nothing more than for you to leave me
alone right now—and forever.”

“
Why?” I’m trying to act
like his words don’t affect me, but each word is another torrent of
pain.

“
I don’t have to explain
that to you,” he says, brushing the dirt off his khaki pants and
then he runs his fingers through his hair.

I take a deep breath to
help bolster my resolve. “You’re not going to get rid of me, you
know. I’m not about to follow your orders like all those other
girls.” My boldness strengthens with each word and I compel my mind
to focus on one thing: I must find out if he’s like me.

“
I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” he says in an annoyed tone.

“
Sure you don’t,” I say
sarcastically, taking another step toward him as I lick my lips.
I’m in the zone now—a zone where I’m intent on getting what I want,
when I want it, which is right now.

Anthony pauses for a
moment, looking as if he’s trying to formulate a sentence in his
mind. Then he shakes his head and laughs. “You’re different from
other girls, I’ll give you that.”

I chuckle for a moment,
too, because this is really a comic situation. “Is that a good
thing, or a bad thing?” I ask.

“
It’s…
neither. It just
is,
okay? Why are you pestering me so much?” he
grumbles.

That comment hurt, and I
blink. My confidence is swept away by his unkind words.

“
I’m sorry, that was mean.
I’m not used to girls who are so—” He pauses for so long, I think
he might never complete the sentence, but I truly want to know what
he thinks of me.

“
So…?” I press.

“
So honest.” Our eyes
connect and chills go through my body.

“
Honest?”

He folds his arms in front
of his chest and his veins are visible beneath his skin. He looks
away and I notice that I’ve stopped breathing for a moment. “Most
girls seem to just say what they think I want to hear, but you,” he
scratches his head, “you just blurt things out, and it drives me
crazy! You drive me absolutely crazy.”

“
Don’t you want people to
be honest with you?”

“
Well, not brutally
honest.” He glances at me as if accusing me.

Focus Sonia! I came in here
for a purpose. He has a tendency to do that to me; make me want
him, and forget what I want; make me weak in the knees and
weak-willed; make my heart race and my mind forgetful. “Why are you
so interested in Norse mythology?” I ask.

“
What? Where did that
question come from?” he sneers.

“
I don’t have to explain
everything to you,” I say, using his comment against
him.

The edges of his lips turn
upward. “I see how it is.”

“
All right, I’ll tell you.
There’s a reason why I’m so interested in Norse mythology, and I’m
wondering if we have the same reason or not.” I don’t want to be
more direct than that and if he’s a Huldu, he’ll pick up on my
hint.

“
Are your ancestors from
Norway, too?” he asks.

“
Yes.” But, of course, that
isn’t the reason I want to hear and now I think that maybe he’s
just playing with me. How can I encourage him to tell the truth
without revealing too much myself? I step forward, so he’s only an
arm’s length away and there’s a charge between us. His body tenses,
making me think that he might be feeling the charge too.

He hesitates for a
heartbeat, but then moves closer to me. I like him being near to
me, nearer yet. Reaching for my cheek, he graces it softly, and
then his eyes are on my lips. “I’ve never met anyone like you,
Sonia.” His eyes lock with mine.

I love the sound of my name
on his lips. “What do you mean?” Now my focus is dwindling, my mind
is shutting off, and the thrill of standing close to him has made
me forget the reason why I came to see him in the first
place.

He doesn’t answer my
question, but instead, he reaches behind my head, to the sensitive
area in the nape of my neck, and pulls my face so close I can smell
his minty breath. I bite my lip and breathe heavily.

“
You are like me,” I
whisper. “Aren’t you?”

No response. He just peers
into my eyes, as if trying to read them and then he moves his face
closer and kisses me gently on the cheek, just missing my mouth.
His other hand makes its way up along my arm and joins the other
behind my neck, my skin tingling where he touches it. Pulling me in
even closer, he leans his forehead onto mine.

“
Why do you have to be so
stubborn?” he asks.

I try to tell him that he’s
the one who’s being stubborn, but the words get caught in my
throat.

He moves me backward and
presses my hips up against the flowerbed so it creaks. His hands
make their way down my back and I pull my hands up to his face and
cradle it. Why is he refusing to answer my questions? He’s not
denying what I’m saying, so my theory must be true.

I feel in his embrace that
he wants me and an irrepressible need wells up inside my abdomen. I
have never felt anything like it before. I want him. I want his
love, his affection, his mind and his body, and I want him to want
me as much as I want him. Then the thought comes—I want to control
him so he’ll do what I want. This sudden thought frightens me and I
manage to turn my head to the side and look away.