by Kristie Cook
“Yes, well,” she says, sounding bored, “everything turned out for the best, didn’t it?”
What the hell? I look at the receiver as if it’s alien technology. I’m done with her lack of caring. “I could’ve been killed! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Of course it does. But, Chloe, you’re alive and well. The Guard did their job and protected you.”
“Is that what you’ve heard?” I ask incredulously.
“Is it a lie?”
I think of all the times she’s lectured me about needing to fulfill my duties, to live up to expectations and to make the family proud. I may’ve broken rank, gone rogue with the whole time-freezing bit, but it ended up being the right thing to do. A number of Elders are now safely secured under Guard supervision. Nobody died, and thanks to being petrified in the midst of injuries, everyone had ample time to be taken care of by Shamans before anything too serious took hold. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but this is pretty much thanks to me.
But I know better. I simply wish her and my father a safe journey and say, not hesitantly but almost wistfully, that I hope to see them soon.
Jonah’s father calls, too; it’s the first time since the party earlier in the fall that I’ve spoken to him. His call is also brief—he asks how Jonah is doing, but needs no details, as he’s been apprised on the situation. He doesn’t ask why I’m with Jonah, or why I’m the one answering the phone. He doesn’t ask where Kellan is. In fact, he doesn’t ask much at all—just how Jonah is. When I answer the question, he mumbles something along the lines of, “Good. Well, give him my regards,” and then clicks off the line.
The one bright call comes from the Seer Astrid Lotus, who I now know is Jonah’s surrogate mother. She spends nearly ten minutes with me on the phone, both asking questions and giving me information she’s learned from the Shaman. She is kind. Comforting. Before she hangs up, she tells me, “I’m so glad you’re there with my boy, Chloe.”
It’s sweet enough to bring tears to my eyes. Maybe Jonah’s right. Maybe there are Magicals out there who make excellent parents, even if they come in the form of surrogate mothers.
“I have the worst headache.”
He’s awake! I nearly throw down the book I’ve been reading and turn to face Jonah. He’s rubbing at his forehead, adorably confused and tired. I lean in, saying, “Let me kiss that and make it better. Any other pains?”
There aren’t, which relieves me. Not that I didn’t trust Sjharn, who everyone claims is a miracle worker, but I needed to hear it from Jonah. We talk about what happened—I don’t gloss over anything, because I’ve decided that, being tired of always being kept in the dark, I want us to have the truth always, even if it’s tough at times to hear.
Which I’m assuming is the case for him when I lecture for a good five minutes on how he’s never allowed to pull such a stunt again. He merely laughs at this, unbothered by my growling, and subdues me quickly by yanking me back down in bed so we can lie together.
“You can’t do this again,” I whisper against his neck. “You can’t leave me again.”
“I didn’t leave you. I was protecting you. There’s a difference.”
“Why you, though? With all the Guard around, why did you have to go out there?”
“Because I love you, and I’ll always do everything I can to make sure you stay safe.”
He’s smooth, but I’m not swayed. “Getting yourself killed is not a good way to keep me safe,” I mutter. “That would, in fact, probably cause me to blow up a number of buildings.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” he says sincerely. “Forgive me?”
When he says it like that, there’s no way I can deny him anything.
“So, I have a question for you.”
Jonah opens his eyes and squints up at me. We’re out on the couch, watching a movie. The apartment is empty—the Cousins have gone back to the Human plane, Kellan is out with Guard friends, and Karl is having dinner with his wife. “I’m not paying attention to the movie, so if you’re wondering about the plotline, you’re out of luck.”
His head in on my lap and I am running my fingers through his silky hair. “Are you able to talk to me in my mind?”
He moves his head so my fingers can reach new pieces of hair to play with. “No.”
“But you talk to your brother like that.”
“Yes.”
Even though I’d suspected this, I’m still surprised to get an actual confirmation. For one thing, I’ve never heard of anyone, Magical or not, being able to do this. Secondly, when we surge, only memories and the feelings associated with them are accessible, never interactive language. Still, wondering about how much the two of them are able to communicate with one another, and potentially about me, has been gnawing at me ever since their bizarre silent exchange before school a few days before.
“So,” I say, “all those times you two are silent with each other, you’re talking?”
“Not always. Sometimes it’s just silence.”
“Does he have to be in the room?”
Jonah is unbothered by my questions. “No.”
“Could you talk to him now?”
“If I had something to say,” he admits, moving his head again.
“How?”
“I don’t know. We’ve always been able to do it. It’s a twin thing, I guess.”
I think about this as he relaxes against me once more. Right before he’s on the verge of sleep, I say, “Explain it to me. Does this mean that whatever you say or do, he automatically knows about it?”
Jonah must sense my uneasiness, because he sits up. “No, of course not.”
Even the little voice in my mind is curious about all this. “Then how does it work?”
“Well, he and I are connected together in a lot of ways because we’re twins. We can surge, like normal Magicals. So obviously we can see each other’s memories and all that. We can talk by reaching out our minds to each other. And we can sense how the other person is feeling without having to be within a certain distance like Emotionals normally need to be.”
“Can he hear what we’re saying right now?”
“No.” His eyes search my face. “Chloe, why are you so troubled about this?”
“It’s bad enough that you can read me like a book at all times,” I say quietly. “It’s another thing if someone who isn’t even in the room can do it, too. And … it freaks me out to think that you two might’ve been talking about me, or worse, fighting when I had no idea.”
He takes my hands in his. “Kellan would be able to hear what’s going on if I specifically let him. But that’s not going on right now. He has no idea what we’re talking about, I swear.”
“Does he know what you’re feeling?”
“You mean right now?”
I nod.
“Probably, but I doubt he’s paying attention.”
“Do you know what he’s feeling?”
“Yes, but only because you asked me to focus.”
I mull this over, uncomfortable. “Can he tell when we’re … you know … making out? Or … merging?” My face burns.
The little voice practically cackles at my smoothness.
Jonah turns red, too. “NO. Listen—I get that you are weirded out about all of this. But I promise you there’s nothing to worry about. For your information, there are times I always block him, and vice versa. What you and I do is none of his business. And frankly, I highly doubt he’d want to know.”
Thank. Gods.
“Besides,” he adds, “we’ve always agreed that relationships are off limits. Blocking this sort of stuff from one another is routine.”
“Why’d you hide this from me?” I ask, not so much accusing, but genuinely curious.
“I didn’t hide it from you, Chloe … At least, if I did, it wasn’t purposeful.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. I worry he might be getting another migraine. “Maybe it’s the curse of being an Emotional. We’re just not able to express as much as
we inspire in others.” He laughs quietly. “Ironic, right?”
I mull this over. “Do a lot of people know that you two can communicate like this?”
“I think some people suspect it; there are a select few who know simply because they’ve known us, as a unit, for a very long time.” He suddenly looks vulnerable. “I’ve never been very good about opening up often. I guess it’s a self-defense mechanism I’ve built up over the years. I don’t let a lot of people in. But,” he adds, when I try to apologize for being nosy, “you are not everybody. You are the person I love, and the person I’m going to spend my life with. You have every right to ask me these things and, in turn, expect to hear whatever it is you want to know about me, without hesitation. I know you’re worried right now that I’m upset you’re asking, but I’m not. I think … sometimes there are things I don’t actively tell you, but it’s more because I don’t think they’re worthy of being discussed. I’ll never hide anything from you, though. If you were to ever ask, I would never lie or deny the truth.”
Jonah’s cell phone goes off later that night while he’s sleeping. Normally, I’d ignore it, because I wouldn’t want to be nosy (despite Jonah’s arguments earlier), but a picture flashes across the screen, of someone blonde.
While I can’t see it too well, since it’s on the coffee table and I’m still on the couch, I have no doubt who it is.
A minute after it stops ringing, the voice-mail beep sounds. And then, a couple minutes after that, a text appears. I debate whether or not to read it, because it’s not my phone, but the green-eyed monster lurking inside demands to know what it says. So I gingerly slide the phone closer until I can see it.
Please call me. I’m freaking out not knowing how you are.
The little voice tries to rationalize with me, saying that just because Callie has texted Jonah, it doesn’t mean anything. But then, how does she know he’s been hurt? He’d said she’s a non, and since it’s forbidden to tell …
Remember, the little voice offers, Kellan told her about the dreams. So she knows something, right?
Which only confuses me more. I mean, both Jonah and Kellan had been pissed off at Lizzie telling Graham about our kind. Was it because they’d told once, too?
Later the next morning, I watch Jonah check his phone. He reads the text silently before setting the phone back down. But, when he turns around, he knows that I know.
I do not apologize for having read it. Instead, I ask, “Are you going to call her back?”
He comes over to where I’m standing. “No.”
I try to play it cool, as if I’m totally unaffected by his ex-girlfriend of three years texting him. “Why not?”
He looks at me like I’m speaking Swahili. “Because it would upset you.”
“No it wouldn’t,” I lie.
“It’s okay that it does.” He’s serious. “It bothers me when you talk to my brother. But that,” he adds, “is unavoidable, due to our circumstances. It is very avoidable to just not call her back.”
Oh great. He had to play the generous card. I offer hesitantly, “She’s worried about you.”
“I’m sure she already knows that I’m awake and fine. Besides, the last time we spoke, I told her I didn’t want her to call me anymore. Not just because of you, but because I thought it makes things worse for her, too.”
Which makes me wonder just how hard things are for Callie.
chapter 41
Karl has a number of things to tell me once we get back to California. Due to the most recent attacks and despite the latest occurring in Annar, the Council has decided I’m to spend most of my free time on the Magicals’ plane, including, but not limited to, all weekends and many afternoons directly after school. Jonah and Kellan are also under said order, but I have my doubts that it’s because the Council believes they truly need protection. But there is enough fear of another attack that I’m to be constantly surrounded by as many Guard as possible, including, I suppose, my boyfriend and ex-boyfriend, who are, I’m discovering, virtually already members of the Guard in their own rights.
In addition to this, I’ll be expected to move, along with the twins, to Annar within five days of graduation. Apparently, the Council wanted us there the very next day, but a few members (with kids) argued we deserved the bare minimum of fun before being sent off to the gallows—I mean, work.
And that’s the final nail in the coffin. On the first day I move to Annar, I’ll be inducted into the Council. No internship first, which freaks me out. I’d been looking forward to that, considering my general lack of knowledge about what it takes to be a fully-functioning Creator on the Council. But Kleeshawell Rushfire, the current Creator, is really old, Karl says, and pretty much stays in grumpy self-appointed time-outs. In fact, he adds, all of the things Rushfire had done in Annar to help fix the breached shields were done under protest. His power is waning, and he doesn’t like being put into a position to possibly fail. He’s apparently eager to hand the reins over to me as quickly as possible.
So there it is. I don’t get a summer vacation. I don’t get to hang out at the beach before moving. I don’t get three years of school and internship before assuming my chair on the Council. Come June fifteenth, I’ll be doing what I’ve been born to do.
I’ll be a Council member, first tier, with six worlds’ worth of expectations weighing down on my shoulders. And boy, do I feel like running.
Cora’s back to fighting form, waving off any concern anyone has about her attack like it’d been a minor fender bender. Trying to talk to her about it does no good; all she’ll say to me about it is that she expects me to listen to Karl from here on out. It’s like she’s aged ten years.
She makes a lot of secretive phone calls lately, yet I can never figure out to whom. She’s constantly texting someone, and when she receives one, she smiles like she’s won the lottery. Asking about this, too, is pointless, because her lips are zipped tight. I don’t bother surging, because I figure if she wanted me to know, she’d tell.
A month after the attack, Alex and Meg blow my mind by admitting they’ve been secretly dating for several months. This revelation prompts Lizzie to quietly beg Alex for help finding some kind of loophole for her and Graham. She insists that she doesn’t think she can go through with her commitments if she’s not allowed to love who she wants. It takes some convincing, but Alex agrees, and the two of them, along with Graham and Meg, spend countless hours after school researching in my dad’s library.
Kellan’s mostly kept his distance from me, but over the last week or so, he’s slowly begun to come around and slide back into the group, albeit on the fringes. He eats with us at lunch, although on the opposite end of the table from me and Jonah, and even spends some time with his brother, outside of my presence. They are, according to Jonah, in an uneasy truce.
I hate the distance between them and that it’s because of me. I want to do something to fix it, but any attempt at communication with Kellan is rebuffed, even in emails and texts. The truth is, I miss talking to him, miss his wisdom and advice and, even more importantly, just his sheer presence in my life, even if only as a friend. I think Jonah knows this, and even hints at it at times, claiming he knows his brother, and figures, with enough time, he’ll come around. But I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done such irreparable damage that I’ve lost Kellan for good.
So I’m stuck watching him from a distance, like I did with Jonah all those months ago. I watch him and worry about him and miss him so much it aches. And, as with Jonah before, I can tell Kellan isn’t happy: the smiles he gives others aren’t the ones I know to be real. They’re too bright, strained from trying too hard.
Three days before Jonah and Kellan’s eighteenth birthday and nearly a month before mine, I find Kellan at my locker during a passing period. It’s the first time he’s sought me out in months, and my heart goes berserk in so many conflicted, confused ways.
There is the obligatory small chitchat which has lately defined our relation
ship before he leans back against the lockers and stares straight ahead. “I was wondering if we maybe could talk about what’s happened.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Between us, I mean.”
I want to, desperately. I want answers probably just as much as he does. But, I’m also terrified of being alone with him. Being together during the Annar battle was one thing, especially since we had a common goal of ensuring Jonah’s safety. But here … now? What’s to stop me from doing something unbelievably stupid? I mean, something about this boy encouraged me to betray Jonah for a little over two months.
Even so, I agree to have the talk, because no matter what, I need this attempt at closure, too. But I still say to him, half-heartedly, “Are you sure you want to go through this again?”
He gives me a sad, rueful smile, not the beautiful, sarcastic one I’ve long loved. “Stupid, isn’t it?” He taps his forehead. “I get it, I really do—I mean, every day, I see you and Jonah and know, logically, how things are.” He looks away, tearing my heart away with his gaze. “But my heart hasn’t quite figured it out yet.”
Ohh …
“I just think, maybe … if we really talked about it, maybe my heart will finally catch up with my mind. I figure it’s worth a chance. I mean, what else can I lose?”
I want to cry, admit to him that he hasn’t lost me—not entirely, at least. I may not be able to give him the relationship we once had, but I still need him. Want him. But I keep those messy thoughts and feelings in, even if he can sense them. Because we are in a crowded high-school hallway, and my boyfriend—his twin brother—is somewhere on the grounds nearby, and neither of us are willing to risk hurting him again.
“You know,” Cora says to me later, her phone out in her hands but tilted just enough away from me so I can’t see the screen, “I’m glad to report that Kellan is finally over you.”
We are standing in the same place where Kellan unequivocally told me a mere hour before that he is most definitely not over me. I shut my locker and turn to her. “Oh?”
She waits until she’s finished typing a message before answering. “Yeah. This past weekend, when I was in Annar—”