The butterflies have disappeared. Xander and Twist take flight. My hair tumbles down around my shoulders. Eyes closed, I bend back again, immersing my entire body.
Water rushes off me as I surface, my hair slick against my head. My wings drape down my back. I open my eyes and look right at Kaillen, unblinking with a boldness I didn’t know I possessed.
He stares back.
Suddenly I realize: he must have voices in his head, too.
What if there are parts of him he has hidden away? What if there are places and desires in his body—right now—he didn’t even know existed before this very moment? I want to discover those secret places. I want him to walk into the pond fully clothed and pull me against him.
The scowl is gone from his face. His body tenses. His primal covert heartbeat exposes him. He wants me like I want him.
He fascinates me.
He bewilders me.
I bewilder myself.
We look at each other. The falls, the glade, the hushed world, waiting. He takes a step toward me, eyes wide with naked hunger. Then he hesitates. Looking down he shakes his head and mutters something I can’t make out.
When he looks up again he’s pulled a mask over his face. He turns and walks back down the path that isn’t nearly as secret as I imagined.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The daring façade I’d dressed myself in shreds like a tissue-paper moth’s wing.
What were you thinking? What have you done?
I don’t have an answer. I don’t recognize myself.
You little slut. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Emma, you don’t even like Kaillen! And you’re NAKED. What about Gabe?
I hang my head. Slinking from the pond I pull on my crumpled clothes. I can’t stop shivering.
Hush now, you two. Ava’s voice is gentle. I want to hear what Emily thinks. Close your eyes Sister, and experience your emotions. What if you didn’t know the girl in the glade, the girl who dances with butterflies? The girl who bathes in Magic? Tell me, Emily, what do you feel when you think of that girl?
I picture the girl as if she were someone else, as if she weren’t me but the fairytale me Lady Quince and General Raidho saw in the vision pulling the night sky down her shoulders. Goosebumps raise on my arms…the good kind. An appreciative smile spreads across my lips. That girl is brave and smart. She’s sexy, but innocent, too.
“I admire her.” I whisper. “I want to BE her.”
The woman and little girl gape.
Really? What if Kaillen tells someone? Would you want to be her then? What must he think of you, Emily? You hate him one minute and want to make-out with him the next? You need HELP. You can’t be trusted.
What I need is an off switch. I know Nancy said it would be hard to find my True Voice, but this can’t be what she meant. All I’ve accomplished is awakening insane hormones and sparking more confusion. Maybe I’m broken. Maybe there’s no hope.
Whatever. Kaillen wouldn’t dare tell anyone. HE was the one spying on ME from the bushes. And he’d definitely been staring.
I shake my head. How did I ever get the courage to do something like that? The woman is right: I do need help. But I’m way too embarrassed to tell Nancy about this. She likes Gabe. She’d think I was a two-timing skank.
I shove my feet in my flip-flops, desperate to be away from this place. The roar of the falls is deafening now, the floral perfume coats my nose with cloying powdered-sugar sweetness. I’m wet, uncomfortable, and fed up with myself. I’m going to sneak into bed, pull the sheets over my head, and not come out. Ever.
Twenty-One
I’m one giant nerve ending. The half an Ambien I took from the medicine cabinet isn’t helping at all. I’m trying to hold still so I don’t wake Claire but what I really want to do is shed my skin and disappear. It’s 12:38 a.m. About an hour ago I managed to convince myself that the episode in the glade this afternoon with Kaillen was a dream, that I’d dozed off and invented it all. After all, I saw him as an elf, and I had wings. No matter what the little girl says, Magic isn’t real.
But I keep hearing what Nancy said about finding the truth in dreams. First Aidan’s vision/dream about Toad and the boxes. Toad was Nissa’s Secret Keeper. Nancy said the voices are protecting me from something in the past I haven’t processed yet, from secrets I’m keeping from myself. And now I dream about making-out with someone I thought I hated. What the hell is happening to me? How many horrible things have I buried inside myself? Why are they all trying to surface at once?
There’s enough nervous energy in my right calf and thigh alone to run three marathons. I’ll never sleep again. The seconds until dawn stretch before me—evil plot-points on a line graph to infinity.
A host of wood-gray Daddy long-legs creep from the clustered ceiling-shadows in the corner of the room, inching closer with their tiny mouths and elegant all-seeing eyes. They know I’m going crazy. They’re coming to feast on the decomposing remains of my sanity.
I can’t stay in this bed another second.
I need carbs.
Normally I wouldn’t scrounge around Aunt Meg’s kitchen in the middle of the night. What would she say if she caught me? Probably nothing. But I hate the way she’s been watching me…like she’s waiting for my head to start spinning on my neck.
I’ve been avoiding all human contact other than Jacob, Aidan, and Claire since returning from the glade. There’s no reason left in my head, only sensations of shame mixed with lust mixed with confusion mixed with dread, and I can’t figure which emotion is attached to which situation in my life. How do I feel about Gabe? How do I feel about Kaillen? How do I feel about Mom? How do I feel about seeing Dad for the first time in seven years in less than twelve hours?
I pace back and forth in front of the refrigerator hugging my arms around my middle. Through the dining room a thin bar of light shines under the door of the den.
A cough. Uncle Ian.
My body pulls me in two different directions. Half of me scrambles off to hide in bed; the other half glides toward the light on silent feet.
I follow my feet when I hear Nancy’s voice, too.
“She’s still struggling, General. I think we should give her a few more days. Would you be willing to postpone this meeting?”
What’s going on? Why did Nancy call Uncle Ian ‘General’?
The door is open enough for me to easily hear Uncle Ian’s reply: “We’re running out of time, Lady Quince.”
That’s weird. Yeah, her name is Nancy Quince, but since when does Ian call her ‘Lady’?
“We’ve waited this long, what harm to wait a few more days? Don’t you care about her well being at all?”
“It troubles me you think so little of my humanity, Lady Quince. Like you, I’ve become rather fond of the girl. My concern for her wellbeing is not an act.”
“I believe you. I’ve seen a change in all of you this trip. Then why push, General? The ordeal of absorbing her mother’s Blaze, combined with her own Changing was nearly fatal. Why not let her recover a little longer? She’ll need her full strength to break the Seal on the Doorway.”
Am I being punked?
I peak around the edge of the door. Ian and Nancy sit opposite each other in matching wingback chairs. They look completely normal. Only their voices sound a little different…more formal.
“Which is exactly why we need to meet with Drake as soon as possible,” Ian says. “He’ll be able to assess her abilities, ascertain how much training she needs, and determine how long it will take. We’re working blind here, Quince. Meanwhile, it grows more difficult to keep her hidden. Now that her wings have emerged, any predatory creature with the barest trace of Magic can see her power radiating from miles away. It won’t be long before the crimbal or their Master discovers the Vineyard. The longer we wait, the greater the danger grows for Emily and her s
iblings.”
Nancy leans forward in her chair. “I can’t explain how, General, but I’ve come to love that girl. We can’t just use and abandon her. She’s had enough pain in her life.”
They’re talking about me. I back away from the door.
“She’ll be welcome to accompany us to the First Realm if she chooses,” Ian says. “Otherwise, Drake can scorch out her wings and she’ll remain here. She would continue much as she has until now. She’s always been looked after, Lady,”
“I’m aware of how she has been looked after better than anyone, General,” Nancy replies. Her chair scrapes across the floor as she stands. “I’ll agree to the meeting tomorrow, but we must tell her what we’re planning…”
Her footsteps move toward the door. I trip over my own feet backing up through the kitchen and down the hallway to the small guest room I share with Claire at the back of the house. Once inside I pull the door shut, gripping the knob tight until my heartbeat slows. The clock on the bedside table reads 12:56 a.m. I’ve been gone fifteen minutes.
I lie down next to Claire’s warm body, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around her and bury my head in her shoulder. I’m desperate to hold onto something real, but I don’t want to wake her up.
My mind refuses to consider or even review what I just saw and heard. Can I take more Ambien? No. I have to be careful since I’m giving them to Aidan too. I don’t want anyone to notice they’re missing.
I push images of Nancy/Lady Quince and Uncle Ian/General Raidho away and pick up the clock, placing it on my stomach so I can watch it’s light-blue glow. I’ll play a game. It’s 12:58 now. As soon as it turns to 12:59 I’ll close my eyes and start counting seconds. When I get to sixty I’ll open my eyes and see how close I am to the actual time.
Start. One, two, three… At sixty I open and it’s still 12:59. Too fast.
Again.
1:00 a.m., start. One, two, three…sixty. I’ve over compensated. Switching over to the second counter I find I’m only a little too slow: 1:01:07.
Again.
1:02, start. One, two, three…
I jerk awake, disoriented. The clock is back on the nightstand. It reads 12:35 a.m.
Claire stirs next to me as I bolt upright. What? 12:35? That means…
I dreamt the whole thing…
Relief pours over me. Nancy is Nancy Quince, not Lady Quince. Ian is my uncle, not General Ian Raidho. We are going to meet Dad tomorrow, not Drake
I am Emily Ava Alvey, a human girl—not an Ovate with special powers—just an over-active imagination and a bit of a prescription pill abuse problem.
I lie back down. I can’t keep my eyes open. As I drift off to sleep I think I hear the bedroom door open. Bedsprings creak as someone sits on the mattress next to me. I smile at the calloused warmth of rough-tender fingers smoothing my hair off my forehead. I welcome this dream.
“Sleep well, Lady Emily Ava Alvey.” Ian’s gruff voice is low. “You are stronger than you know. I believe in you.”
Peace settles into my chest as his lips press a feather soft kiss onto my brow.
Twenty-Two
I want to bang my head against the van window.
On the one hand, I’m glad Ian didn’t just give me the keys and punch the address of the diner into the GPS. I’m glad Meg is staying home with the kids, too. I’m happy Ian is driving and Nancy is in the front passenger seat…
But why oh why are Kaillen and Gabe coming with us?
Kaillen hates Dad, and Gabe has never even met him. It’s like a sinister plot to make this meeting as awkward as possible.
Maybe this is another Ambien dream and my subconscious is punishing me for being an adulterer.
Gabe kissed me. Nothing really mushy or anything, more like a peck between friends. Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t kiss my friends.
Just remembering the slight pressure of his lips on mine sends lightning straight through my core. And judging by the looks he’s been giving me, and the way his knee rests against mine, he’s feeling a lot more than friendly.
The warmth of his body next to me is…nice.
Meanwhile, Kaillen sits in the row in front of us. He’s barely said two words to me today, but I know I didn’t imagine the electricity between us as he helped me into the van this morning, or the way his glance lingered on my mouth. Even if I dreamt that whole thing and he didn’t really see me naked, I can’t deny the fact that I’m crazy attracted to him.
Does it mean I’m a bad person if I crush on two guys at the same time?
Yes.
YES.
I’ve got to stop taking the sleeping pills. Again. Right now it’s a toss up between which is worse: not sleeping or the bizarre dreams I have when I do sleep.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise both Kaillen and Gabe are here. It’s so embarrassing, but at least it’s distracting me from obsessing over lunch. With Dad.
I only remember driving to the Point of the Mountain three times to visit Dad at the Utah State Penitentiary since he was convicted, and that was years ago, before we moved to Dallas. The memories don’t amount to much: my rubber-soled sketchers echoing down fluorescent-lit concrete hallways, muted conversations of inmates in the cafeteria where I sat by Jacob nodding politely to Dad’s questions: was I practicing the piano? How were my grades in math? Was I helping around the house?
Ian parks the van and Gabe opens the side door, hopping out. I climb out to stand with my arms folded nervous and waiting next to him. No one else budges.
Why isn’t anyone else budging?
“This must be really weird for you, Emily,” Gabe says. “I wish I were going in with you.”
I look at the van. Nancy and Ian sit face-forward. Only Kaillen returns my bewildered gaze with his serious black glance.
No no no no no.
I grab Gabe’s arm. “Please don’t leave me, Gabe. I can’t go in by myself!”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be back in half an hour. You haven’t seen your dad in a long time, Emily. He asked if he could meet you privately first and your great aunt and uncle agreed. I know things are kind of tense between your mom’s family and your dad. It’s best this way. Once you guys have a chance to catch up we’ll all come back and have lunch together.”
They’re leaving me alone with him.
How is it okay that Gabe knew about this plan and I didn’t? Did they think I wouldn’t come if I knew?
They’re right, I wouldn’t have.
But how is that their decision?
They can decide they don’t want him in their house, they can decide to keep the younger kids home, but why would they think they could make this decision for ME?
And why why why do they want me to meet with him alone?
Gabe kisses me quick on the top of my head. “It’s going to be fine.” He squeezes my arm and climbs back in the van, pulling the door shut behind him.
Ian switches on the left turn signal. They drive out of the parking lot without even waiting to watch me walk inside.
I’m completely alone.
Everyone’s abandoned me, including the voices in my head: the woman, Ava…
No. The little girl stands beside me, hair in braids, pinafore dress faded but neatly pressed. She looks up at me. I take her hand.
I’m nervous, Emma.
“I’m nervous, too,” I whisper. “But at least we’re together.”
We walk inside.
He’s sitting beneath the window at the back of the restaurant staring straight at me. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck bristle.
His power vibrates around him, extending in every direction. How is it that the handful of people lingering over their lunches isn’t disturbed?
He stands. I will my clumsy-stiff legs to cross the space between us, praying I navigate the waist-high tables without knocking an
ything over.
He takes my hand and everything is suddenly right. Real.
Exactly as it should be.
He cherishes me. He would never hurt or judge or blame me.
I hold Dad’s outstretched hand in both of mine. I don’t ever want to leave his side. I’m so eager to talk to him! I have to call Ian and tell him we need more time before they come back. I can’t wait for Dad to see Jacob and Aidan and Claire. There’s so much to tell him…where to begin?
“Emily. I’m so glad you’re here.” He hugs me and I don’t want to let go. Finally I sit down, but reach across the table for his hand again.
His hand is just as I remember it: big and strong, with long tapered fingers, flat nails, and perfectly trimmed cuticles. He even smells the same: like warm leather and cedar.
I didn’t know I remembered his hand or the way he smelled.
“Dad.” I try it out on my tongue. “Dad.” The stress and fear that have been building for the past several weeks seem silly now. Whatever he tells me to do will solve all of our family’s problems. I don’t care how long it’s been or what happened in the past. I’m just glad I’m with him now.
It’s like coming home.
No! I don’t like it here!
Somewhere separate from the me sitting with Dad in the diner, the little girl and I stand together in the middle of a hedgerow maze. She stamps her feet and kicks at the bushes.
“HUSH,” I tell her. “You’re FINE. I need you to be quiet, I’m BUSY.”
Across the table in the diner Dad is saying I’m beautiful, that seeing me is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. His touch comforts me.
DON’T TOUCH US! The little girl screams. She’s yelling at him so loud, how can he not hear her?
“You stop yelling and be quiet or you’ll pay you spoiled little brat!” I push away from her, leaving the maze. I don’t have the time or energy for her tantrums.
Dad is tracing the outline of the runes on my arm with his index fingers. “This is our last name, Emily!” His eyes gleam. “My dad would have loved this. Wow. Do you know what our surname means?”
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