by Amy Richie
“Do you think that's a forest?” One eyebrow arched high on his forehead; mocking me.
“No,” I huffed. “But a tree might be easier to hide behind than a blade of grass.”
“Psht,” he scoffed loudly. “What a waste of energy. Even if you make it, they'll see you.”
“They might not even search that far,” I sneered back.
Anyways, I wasn't going to just sit there and not try at all. Gritting my teeth, I hobbled forward. Having a destination made the pain more bearable. I was going to make it- no matter what Tristan said.
Halfway there, I had to stop. “Ow,” I gasped, bending down to rub my ankle.
“You've come far enough. Just sit down,” Tristan hovered close to my face.
I shook my head, teeth clenched too tight for words to come out.
“You'll hurt yourself even more.”
“So what?” I gasped. It wasn't like I was hurting Tristan, so why did he care?
I knew exactly why he cared though, without having to ask him. He wanted me to go back to Nine Crosses so Toby could never find me. I didn't understand everything, but I knew enough. Toby and Tristan didn't like each other. Of course Tristan wanted me to abandon Toby.
“I'm not going back until I help Toby,” I stood straight again. “I can't.”
“He wouldn't hesitate to leave you,” Tristan pointed out, “he left you at the hotel, didn't he?”
“I left him, too.”
“If he stayed with you,” Tristan hesitated, pressing his lips tight together before rushing ahead, “you wouldn't have come with me and he would have been able to hide you away.”
“Doesn't matter,” I began walking again. “He had his reasons.”
“Yeah, but they weren't anything noble,” Tristan half laughed. The sound was off though, more strangled than humorous.
I had no choice but to fall silent as I trudged forward. I needed all my concentration to keep my feet moving.
Like always, Tristan's words made me think too much. Not that what he said was true, but there was always just enough truth to make me wonder.
Why had Toby left me at the hotel?
Shaking my head, I concentrated on the last few steps to the trees. Better to keep my mind on the things I could understand. The police would be here soon and I didn't want to be out in the open.
Behind the tree line, not easily visible from the road, was the battered remains of a picnic table. Weather and rowdy kids had worked together to make the table almost unrecognizable.
It was laying on one side, the rusted metal from a missing bench sunk deep into the earth. What was left of the other bench rose high into the sky.
“Perfect,” I panted. Without testing it's sturdiness, I slid along the chipped wood until my worn out body hit the ground.
Luckily, the table held. “Perfect,” I whispered again.
Chapter Seven
I shifted slightly on the hard ground, glad I had found a place to hide, but really wishing for a more comfortable seat. “Did they go yet?” I whispered.
Tristan was perched on top of the broken bench seat, keeping a watch on what was happening out by the road. The police had shown up just a few minutes after I had ducked behind the picnic table. There was a lot of noise and a lot of lights, but so far, no one had come looking for me.
“I told you they were leaving,” he reminded me.
“I can't believe anything you say,” I hissed back.
“Then why ask?”
The sky had been getting steadily darker while I waited for the police to leave. By the time they left, it was completely night time. I probably would have stayed all night by the table anyways, but now I had no choice.
“Ok,” I sighed. “At least they didn't find me.”
“They weren't looking.”
“Good,” I pouted. “I didn't want to be found.”
“And now?”
“And now what?”
“Exactly.”
I scrunched my nose up at him. “I'll sleep here. It's kind of cozy.”
There was a moment of silence, broken by Tristan. “Are you cold?”
“Not really.”
“Don't suppose you know how to rub two sticks together?”
“Anyone can do that,” I retorted quickly.
“And start a fire?”
That probably wouldn't be as easy. “Who needs a fire?”
“You might eventually.”
“I'm tough,” I sniffed.
“Not really.”
I silently sulked, not confident enough to disagree.
“How's your ankle?”
“Fine.” Now that I wasn't trying to walk on it, my ankle felt fine.
“Your hands?”
“Not bleeding anymore.”
“Your face?”
“Can't see it.”
“How about your knee?”
“Why are you so worried about me?”
“I'm not.”
“Why do you care if I live or die out here?” He wanted me dead; did it really matter how it was done?
“I don't want you to die,” he denied what I already knew.
“I know you do; so why do you pretend to care what happens to me?”
“I want you to join me.”
“What?” I craned my neck to see if he was still on top of the bench. Even though it was dark, Tristan let off a faint glow that made him visible no matter how dark it was. “I can't get up there.”
“I don't mean up here,” he chuckled. His light disappeared suddenly and reappeared right next to me.
I jerked my face back. “Then what do you mean?”
“I want you to become one of the Cursed.”
“I already told you that I'm not going to.”
“Well, that's why I care if you live or die out here. I don't want you to die.”
“How did all of this happen to me anyways?”
“Bus flipped over.”
“Why can I see the ghosts and no one else can?”
“You're a Seer.”
I had heard that before. “What does that mean exactly? How did I become a Seer?”
“The sisters...”
“What sisters?”
“Nona and her two sisters,”he patiently explained,“they control fate.”
My eyes narrowed at the unexpected explanation.
“And, as you know, my two brothers and I drive people to suicide.”
He was way too nonchalant about it. My scowl deepened.
“Over the years, we've become natural enemies of the sisters.” He shrugged lightly. “They're a bit uptight. Claim we mess with fate by cutting lives short.” He shrugged again.
“They kind of have a point.”
“In an effort to stop us, they cast a spell on the humans, allowing them to see the Cursed for what they were. My brother knows a bit of magic himself though and managed to cancel out most of the spell.”
“Most?”
“83.”
“83 what?”
“There are 83 Seers in the world.”
“Like me?”
“Yes.”
“Wh...” I didn't even know what to ask. How did he know there were 83? Where were they? Could I meet them?
“83 families managed to block my brother's magic- thus putting their own curse on themselves. Now they are destined to have Nona's gift of sight. It will always be passed on to the next female born after the Seer dies.”
“What happens if there are no girls born?”
“It could happen, I guess,” he shrugged. “A few times, families have disappeared for a while, but they always crop up somewhere. The magic is deep- passed by blood some families don't even know they share by now.”
“So... did my mother... was she a Seer?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “You two wouldn't have been alive together.”
“Right,” I nodded. That made s
ense- if any of this did. Maybe my mother knew what I was though; is that why she had tried to kill me?
“You're special though,” he winked.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I couldn't tell if he was being serious or just making fun of me. “What makes me so special?”
“The sight shows up between the ages of Nineteen and Twenty Four.”
“I've always seen the ghost-people.” My forehead wrinkled with confusion. Ever since I could remember, I had seen them. Toby kept them at a distance most of the time, but they were always there.
“Exactly why you're special. There's never been anyone like you, Ren.” Sitting above me, Tristan was able to stare down at me in that intense way of his.
I was the first to look away, of course. “So what about Toby? Where does he fit into all of this?”
“Toby, hmm...” Tristan tapped his chin with one finger. “Toby's special, too.”
“Is he a Seer?”
“He's a Cursed.”
I already knew that, I inwardly scolded myself. I knew Toby was one of my ghost-people; but he was different. “Then what makes him special?”
“A long, long time ago,” he grinned, “there was a young woman named Violet.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words paint pictures in the blackness under my lids. It wasn't hard to imagine a beautiful young woman wearing a long white dress.
“Along this time, there also lived a man named Randolph. And Randolph had a son called Toby.”
Toby.
“In all the land, Randolph was the wealthiest. He had raised his only son, Toby, to become his heir, but Toby rebelled. No matter what Randolph said, his son refused to take his rightful place.
“Then one day, Toby met Violet in the village and fell immediately in love. It's worth noting here that Violet came from a very poor family- a family of witches. Her, her mother, and her sister were all sentenced to burn at the stake for their crimes against nature.
“Toby pleaded with his father- who had a lot of pull in the village- to save Violet's life. So on that day, the two of them struck a deal. Violet would be spared and the two could marry if Toby took his place in the family.
“It was agreed and plans were set into motion, but there was one thing Toby didn't count on.
“There was another man in the story. A handsome man with locks of golden honey and a smile that could steal women from their beds. His name was Tristan.”
That wasn't hard to imagine, either.
“Before the two lovers could be married, Violet fell into a deep depression. Despite Toby's pleas and vows of love, Violet took her own life. Two days later- Toby followed.”
My eyes snapped back open. “That's a horrible story!”
“It's not finished yet.”
“What happened? Did they get to be together as Cursed?”
“Afraid not,” he said with mock sadness, “The Cursed change. After they join me, their will disappears and instead becomes mine. Just puppets, especially the Seers. I mean,” he shrugged, “Toby can look at Violet if he wants, but she has no clue who he is. Not anymore.”
“That's awful.” It must have been hard on Toby to see her all these years and not be able to talk to her. No wonder he was so mean.
“I get bored easily, so I thought it would be great sport to watch Toby try,” Tristan said slowly, dragging my attention back to him. Did I even want to know what he was talking about?
“Try what?”
“Try to save Violet,” he turned to look at me full on. “I told him that if he could manage to save one of her ancestors- one of the Seers- I would let her go.”
“You can do that?”
“Yeah, they're mine. I can do what I want with them.”
“Save them,” I mulled the proposition over in my head. “You mean stop them from killing themselves.”
“In all this time; in all these centuries, none of my Seers have lived to see thirty.” His eyes dulled as they turned to look out at nothing- or maybe he was just seeing things I couldn't.
“None of them?”
“Not one. I would say they all joined me before they turned twenty five, but there was one who didn't even start seeing until she was twenty seven. Toby tried to shield her. In the end though, she came with me. They all do.”
“That's a terrible story,” I repeated, fighting the shiver that was making its way up my spine.
“But you're different,” he sighed loudly. “You've always seen the Cursed.” He turned narrowed eyes to me. “Why?”
I didn't know why, but Tristan was right- I was different. Maybe I would be able to break the curse for Toby. If I reunite him with his love, maybe he wouldn't hate me so much.
Chapter Eight
The wind picked up suddenly, picking the hair up off my forehead then smacking it back down against my face. Were the ghost-people coming back?
I glanced nervously at Tristan but he didn't seem concerned. “Are you cold?” he asked with a tilt of his head.
“Are they coming back?” I responded instead of answering him.
“Not right now,” he grinned.
“But the wind...” I glanced around him, hoping not to see any ghosts.
“It's just wind.”
“It's cold wind,” I persisted.
“The Cursed can't hurt you,” he reminded me gently.
So he kept saying. But here I was, huddled behind a broken picnic table- almost just as broken myself. The ghosts couldn't hurt me? It sure felt like they could.
“Don't suppose there's a gas station around here, do you?” My lips turned up slightly at the corners.
“Gotta pee?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Hoping for a vending machine,” I corrected.
“Ah. I don't think we'll find one out here. What would you get if we had one?”
“Potato soup.”
“Do they have a lot of those, then? Potato soup machines?”
“Like, every street corner in my old town,” I teased.
“Are you sure you're not confusing them with prostitutes? There's a bit of a difference.”
“As I'm sure you know really well,” I laughed.
He cocked his eyebrow high on his head. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Maybe,” I bobbed my head slightly, embarrassment flooding my face.
“A bad joke- but a joke.”
“The cold must be getting to my head,” I muttered.
“We should move.”
“Move where?” I craned my head to look around, but there was nothing as far as I could see.
“Somewhere warmer.”
“Let's just wait until it's light.”
“Afraid of the dark?”
“We're not going to find anything out there. At least in the daylight we'll be able to see.”
“I can see just fine,” he continued to argue.
So what if he could see? I was the one with a bum ankle and a body that could be hurt more. It was more important for me to be able to see.
“I'm staying here,” I argued- just as stubborn as Tristan.
A sudden tiredness washed over me, bringing a need for sleep that I wasn't sure I could fight. I really wished I had a blanket but the jacket would have to do.
“Are you tired?” Tristan leaned close to my face.
“Little bit,” I admitted.
“Don't go to sleep.”
“Why not?” I tried to be irritated at his bossy tone, but could only manage a brief scowl.
“It's probably Nona.”
“Nona?” I wanted to talk to Nona though, so if it was her calling me, I wanted to answer.
“She doesn't need to be putting things in your head,” he snapped. “You're hurt and need rest.”
“Sleep is rest,” I slurred. Sleep was exactly what I needed.
“Just stay with me for a little bit longer,” Tristan pleaded.
The wind blew harder, drowning out any answer I would have given him. Maybe it was going to start storming; that was all I needed.
I searched the sky for the stars. It was all black up there.
“Do you think it'll storm?” I asked, hoping for him not to confirm my fears.
“Maybe,” he nodded, following my gaze up to the sky. “It doesn't feel like rain though. It's something else.”
“Something like what?”
His eyes narrowed but he didn't answer. Must be bad.
“It would be fine,” I forged ahead with false bravery, “if only it wasn't so cold. Why do the ghost- people make it so cold?”
There was no answer.
“Tristan?” I called out, but he was gone. Once again, he had left me alone.
Oh well, I tried to shrug, it wasn't like Tristan was my babysitter or anything. Legally, I was an adult now. I should be able to sit by myself over night. I didn't need Tristan.
It was nice knowing he was with me though, I sniffed lightly. My ankle was too sore to pull my legs close to my chest. I sighed heavily, letting my warm breath mingle with the cold wind.
Where did Tristan go?
“Here,” his husky voice called through the darkness, lighting my insides with hope.
“You're back,” I smiled, my breath catching.
“Of course I came back,” his eyebrows lowered on his head, resting close to his eyes.
“I just... I didn't know,” I ran my tongue over my cracked lips, “I didn't know where you went,” I finished lamely.
“I went to get you this,” he held his arms out, offering me a thick mess of material.
“What is that?” Hopefully he had some soup under there.
“It's a blanket.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Does it matter?” He came forward the few steps that separated us and draped the blanket across my lap, pulling it up to rest under my chin.
“I can't use this,” I protested, pulling the blanket tighter to my body.
“Sure you can.”
“You stole it,” I accused.
“So?” he shrugged, not even a little bit guilty.
The blanket was warm though, much warmer than my thin jacket. The wind was continuing to tear through me without mercy. Even if Tristan did steal it, it wasn't like I did, I tried to reason with my own guilt. What was the point in not using it?