Zane leans against the truck when I finally get there, pain marring his face.
“Took you long enough,” he says loudly. Too loudly. I glance back to the house. There’s a slur in his voice like he’s drunk way too much.
“Shh,” I whisper glancing back at the house. “My mom might still be awake.”
Zane rubs his head where a large red lump is forming on the top of his forehead. I reach for him, checking trying to determine if it’s a bruise or blood, but Zane shakes my hand away. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t touch it. It will be fine—just some aspirin.”
“I can get some, but it’ll involve sneaking back in. Maybe we can just use the ring instead to—”
“No.” His face contorts as he holds up his hand. “No, no ring. I need a break from that thing. There’s got to be somewhere to get aspirin around here. Don’t you have a store in this town for crying out loud?”
I pull my phone from my pocket. It’s nearly ten p.m. “Not open at this time.”
“Crap.” He presses his forehead again. “Well, coffee at least. Can I get coffee?”
I swallow. I don’t want to make yet another trip to my second to least favorite place in this town. “The diner’s still open,” I whisper.
“Great.” He pulls open the passenger side of the truck. I pause, my legs like lead as I look around the driveway. “Well, are you coming?”
The truck takes its sweet time warming up, forcing me to listen to Zane’s endless groaning. His hands are pressed against the vents as if his fingers can pull out warm air. “How long have I been gone?” He rubs his forehead again.
“About a day.” I steal a glance at him. He shakes and there’s a sheen of sweat covering his skin. But judging by his constant shivering and his obvious need of heat, he’s colder than the lake. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” He blows on his hands. “I can’t believe it’s only been a day. It feels like it’s been a century.” He touches his head again.
“Maybe we should take you to Ontonagon. They have an emergency room there.”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I will be fine.”
I grip the steering wheel tight. “What happened to you?”
“Ouch.” He leans back into the seat and covers his eyes with his palm. “Do you have to speak so loud. I have a hundred-day hangover. You could be a little gentler.”
“I’m trying,” I soften my voice. “But you’re not very forthcoming with what happened to you or what’s happening to you. I’m not exactly sure what to do right now.”
“Fair enough.” He holds up a palm before covering his eyes. “It was more than just seeing the memories, Adam. It was feeling them too. Pain, sadness, fear, love. Everything that everyone who’s ever held the ring in their hands. It struck all at once, yet one moment at a time. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. There’s so much that I didn’t understand. So much that surprised me. Too much.” He rolls his head onto the back of the truck bench and closes his eyes. “I think I need a nap.”
I pull the car into the parking lot outside the diner and shut off the truck. The lights blare out into the darkness and inside, Zoey’s ponytail bobs from table to table. “Maybe some food will help. Coffee? Eggs?” I pat his arm. “Cute waitresses?”
“Ouch,” he groans. “Stop talking.” Okay, I rub my eyes. This is getting tiring, so I stop with the questions and turn on the truck, filling the cold cab with warmth and lean back into the seat. My eyes follow the movement in the diner, Liz wiping down tables, Zoey pouring coffee. I watch until the truck windows fog up and I can’t see anymore.
My eyes grow heavy and I debate cracking the window, so we don’t die of carbon monoxide when he finally speaks.
“It wasn’t Laris’ ring,” he says so quietly I think I imagine it. His head still rests on the back of the bench, his eyes still shut. “It wasn’t Laris’ ring.”
“Are you sure? How do you know?”
He lifts his head and opens his eyes. “Because the memories—all the memories—stopped with his death. It’s like the tape shut off or something. I can’t explain it. It just stopped. You’d think it would have our memories on it,” he looks at me. “Since we both touched Laris’ ring before, but it didn’t. It was Arch. And I know without a doubt…I know…” His words choke up and he turns away. “I know because I saw him and Zarek kill my mom and sister.”
Silence follows. I’m not sure what to say. What do you say when someone tells you that? I can’t imagine watching as my mother is murdered and being powerless to stop it. I mean, I know my dad’s dead, but I never saw my dad die. I saw Sage dying, but I know she’s alive. And now, I press my hands into the steering wheel. It’s really uncomfortable sitting here with his pain. He’s my brother, but he’s not.
So, I sift through the implications of what he’s said. If this isn’t Laris’ ring, like it was last time, what does this mean? How had saving Sage’s dad changed something so insignificant as a ring?
“It doesn’t make sense.” He looks at me, as if he can read my thoughts. His eyes are depleted of their usual sparkle, the lump on his forehead swelling rapidly. “None of it makes sense.”
“Maybe some food?” I raise an eyebrow and offer up a small smile. He doesn’t smile back.
“Maybe.” He leans back again. “Maybe coffee will help.”
“Okay, then.” I shut off the truck again and pull the door handle stepping out into the cold air. Zane is slow to follow, and I have to wait for him to catch up.
Zoey looks up from the register when we walk in, her eyes lighting up. “I thought you were going somewhere.” She knocks over the jar of pens next to the credit card machine as she rushes around the counter to greet us. The diner hasn’t quite stepped into the new century and still uses paper receipts.
“We are,” I explain. “But I had to fix something for my mom late last night, so we slept today. Now we’re getting some coffee before heading out.”
“Looks like he didn’t get enough.” She points at Zane. His head lolls slightly and he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. His cheeks are pink, dark pink, like he’s been sitting in a sauna for half a day.
“Yeah, he needs coffee.”
“Coming right up.” She smiles and winks. “You can take your usual booth.” She points in the direction of where we sat last night. I’m not sure I would call it our usual booth. I avoid this place as much as possible, but right now there’s bigger things to worry about. Fixing this make-believe thing between Zoey and me will have to come later.
It is about fifteen minutes later, when Zane perks up. He is on his second cup of black coffee when he his eyes spring to life and he raps his finger on the table. “You know what? I think I could eat something.” Part of me is annoyed he recovered so quickly, but most of me is relieved. I wave for Zoey who nearly barrels down the tables in her path to reach us. She’s been anticipating this moment since we came in, when I asked her for a coffee carafe and some extra time to determine our order.
“Finally,” she gasps when she reaches our table. “I’ve been dying to talk to you.”
Zane takes a swig of coffee. “I’m sure lover boy would love to chat, but can we order first. I’m starving.” He leans back in the booth, running his fingers along the edge of the table. “I’ll take the number three. That was good.”
“Ah, yeah sure okay.” Zoey shifts awkwardly as if she’s been scolded. I glare at Zane who’s fiddling with the sugar packets.
“Thanks, Zoey. I’m not hungry. We can chat later.”
“Yeah.” She takes our menus without meeting our eyes, retreating toward the kitchen with a lot less energy than before.
“So, apparently you’re back,” I say sarcastically as Zane continues to play with the sugar. He’s lining them up in a row—pink, blue, white, pink, blue, white. “What the hell are you doing anyway?”
He doesn’t look up as he continues to add more packets. Pink, blue, pink, white, blue, white, pink… “Thinking,” he says. “It’
s like a puzzle I can’t figure out.”
“Whatever happened to you really did a number on you. I feel like I’m eating with a three-year-old.” Zane grunts, but continues to line up the packets. I pour myself some coffee from the carafe on the table, taking long sips and tapping my foot. I glance around the restaurant. It’s as quiet as last night, just Jerry, one of the plow drivers at a table by the window with his wife. He nods in recognition as if to say I see you but don’t talk me. He’s not the friendliest guy around. Honestly, none of us are. Winter in Star Harbor is hard on extroverts.
Zoey returns with Zane’s food, waiting until he shifts the sugar packets out of his way before setting the plate in front of him. She eyes the mess warily but doesn’t question it. Instead she looks to me, her eyes lighting up and her toothy smile spreading across her lips. Here we go again.
“Zoey, we’re still leaving and I’m not—”
“Oh no,” she interrupts. “It’s not that. Although I’m glad to hear you’re thinking about it.” She winks before nudging me further into the booth so she can slide in with us. “You’ll never guess what happened here last night?”
She pauses as if she’s waiting for us to ask what, but instead I lean my head onto my elbow hoping that whatever she has to say goes quick.
She looks around the restaurant and leans in. “Do you remember that guy in here last night? That creepy looking one. I kept telling Liz I thought he was some kind of serial killer or some criminal who broke out of prison. He scared the crap out of me. I almost called you guys back because I was worried, he might chop Liz and I up into bits.” She presses her hand across her chest. “He was really creepy.”
“Okay,” I sigh. Obviously, she is staying awhile. “What about him?”
“Well, as I said. I almost called you guys back in. I was so relieved when he left right after you guys, but then I started thinking what if he is waiting in the parking lot for us. I told Liz maybe we should call the sheriff or something. She told me to breathe and that if I felt better, we’ll walk to our cars together when we close up.”
I tap my fingers and glance across the booth to Zane. I’m not sure he’s even listening. He’s still doing math calculations with sugar packets during bites of food. “And?”
“Well, we did that. Locked up together, turned off the lights, locked up the door. When we reached the parking lot, we saw him lying on the ground. Dead. At first, I thought maybe he was faking it because he was planning on kidnapping us or something, but Bonnie noticed he wasn’t breathing. So, we called the sheriff and they came, and they said he was dead. Dead dead. Nobody saw it so they don’t know how. You were the last guys to leave—”
She stops abruptly her eyes widening.
“You—you—you didn’t kill him. Did you?”
“Are you nuts. He wouldn’t kill a cockroach and those things deserve to die,” Zane says, without looking up from his plate. He’s still shoveling food into his mouth, his eyes deep in thought, I am surprised he’s even listening.
“Phew,” Zoey gasps and smiles. She presses her hand to my arm. “I know you couldn’t ever do anything like that. I just…I just thought maybe you were worried about him hurting me or something.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt, but he was alive when we left last night.” At least I thought he was alive as I glance at Zane. He doesn’t seem surprised or even worried. He’s got some explaining to do.
“Uh, Zoey,” I smile at her as much as I can. “I think I am getting hungry. Can you bring me what he’s having?”
“Of course,” she gushes, squeezing my arm as she stands up. She pauses, her eyes fluttering rapidly as she breathlessly asks. “Anything else I can bring you?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
I let the relief out with a long breath when finally disappears from the table. I eye Zane who’s finished eating and has gone back to the sugar packets. I lean across the table and press my hand on the pile sending a few of them scattering across the table. “I thought you didn’t kill him. “
“I didn’t,” Zane says. “I can’t kill them Adam. You can’t kill them. Humans can’t kill them. The only thing that can kill them is a full-blooded Perseidian. Oh, we can distract them, slow them down, knock them out with our trusty little Nexus, but we cannot kill them. They are cockroaches.”
“So, how is he dead?”
“I don’t know, moron. Let me think. All this chatter isn’t helping me.” He starts lining up those stupid packets again.
“Did Arch kill him? It was his ring Mark had so maybe he killed him? He thought Mark stole his ring, so he killed him last night to get it back. Only we had already taken the ring off of him.” I rub my fingers on my temples. All this thinking is starting to hurt.
“Arch is dead. He was dead last night when we took the ring. It’s not him.” He won’t take his eyes off those stupid packets.
“What are you trying to figure out anyway?” He holds up his hand and I slap it away. “Really this is getting—”
“Here you go, Adam.” Zoey stops in front of the table with my food. “Sure, I can’t get you anything else?”
“I’ll let you know.” She winks again before turning and walking away. I glance over to Zane who’s taken a break from the sugar packets to make puckering faces at me. “Stop it,” I say. “Please, stop.” He makes one more kissy sound before going back to whatever the hell he’s trying to do across the table.
I stare at the food in front of me, feeling my stomach turn. I’m not hungry, I had only ordered it to get Zoey out of the way, but now the smell is making me queasy. I’m tired, this day, this night, this life is catching up with me. The door rings and I look up to see a head of blonde sway around as a girl walks into the diner. It’s the same shade as Sage’s and my world slows just like it always slows every time someone that looks like her walks into my orbit, and then time picks up again when I realize it’s not her, just one of Zoey’s old friends probably home for a visit. The pain clumps inside of me, weighing me down. I hate feeling the pain. I close my eyes, praying for something to numb the hurt.
“Holy shit,” Zane interrupts and I open my eyes. “I’ve got it. I’ve finally got it. I know where we need to go next.”
“To get more sugar?” I say sarcastically, glancing at the dozens of packets now lying in circles and lines across the table.
“No, you dingbat,” he says. “We need to go back to Roswell.”
The word settles like a painful lump in my stomach. I do not want to go back to Roswell.
Chapter Fourteen
Sage
He picks me up just before five in a blue Ford that’s probably as old as we are. There’s a handful of scratches and rust on the door handles, but it’s quaint—sort of. Hunter’s parents are on the wealthy side and he’s owned two brand new cars since we started dating, but Lucas’ car seems so simple. Like it fits him or something.
“I like a guy who’s on time.” Kat claps her hands together at the sight of Lucas walking up the sidewalk to our apartment.
“Stop it,” I scold. “It’s just dinner. Not a proposal.”
“No, but it could lead to that. And just think, Lucas isn’t too far away from Duluth. Maybe you could stay here. We could be neighbors and have babies and—”
“Enough Kat. Quit trying to marry me off and get me pregnant,” I say. “Really, it’s only like our first date.” If it’s even that. Kat doesn’t seem to be deterred though as she glances at me with sparkling eyes. Weddings are all she’s ever thinking about lately. I know she’s suspicious Matt will propose any day now. They’ve been together since freshman year. She’s right to be suspicious. Matt asked for my help picking out a ring two weeks ago.
“Well a girl can dream, can’t she?” She giggles, before leaving my room. She sticks her head back in quickly. “Don’t hurry, but don’t take too long. Okay?”
“Sure,” I mumble to an empty room. I double check my makeup in the mirror. I do
n’t want to overdo it, but I don’t want to underdo it. Where’s Stella when I need her?
Kat’s showing Lucas around our tiny apartment when I make my way down the narrow staircase to meet him. His eyes light up when I reach the bottom of the stairs, my skin flushing under his gaze. “I thought we could go up by the mall for dinner. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” I say. I grab a coat, slipping into the thick puffy material and slide on my mittens. Outside, Lucas opens the car door for me. I shiver after he closes it. The last time I had a car door opened for me was the night Hunter proposed.
“It’s not much, but it holds up in the winter. I left my truck with a friend back in Star Harbor. I wish I could’ve brought her, but she’s older than this thing.”
“Her?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Trucks have feelings too you know.” He glances over, the corners of his mouth lifting in that teasing grin of his. It’s becoming more familiar—like it’s a grin I’ve seen a thousand times, and as we drive up the hill to the mall in Hermantown, I find it easier to talk to him.
“You don’t like the Packers?” he gasps while discussing our favorite sports teams. “How can you not like the Packers?”
“How can you like them?”
“Ouch,” Lucas cries. “I’m devastated. Now you’re going to tell me you don’t like hockey, aren’t you?”
“Uh…well.” I bite my lip.
“Noooo,” Lucas whines. “Tell me it’s not true.”
“I’m sorry.” I shrug my hands. “Not a huge sport in Arizona, although, I think we have a team.”
“Well that does it, I am taking you to a hockey game. The bulldogs are pretty good, you know.” He says referring to UMD’s hockey time. I tilt my head taking in his profile as he drives. A comfortable connection washes over me—his voice, his smile. It’s like cuddling up in a childhood blanket.
Remember the Knight Page 10