by Kim Chance
I took it, looping my arms through the sleeves and pulling it around myself.
“Nice jacket,” Ty murmured, the crooked smile on his lips.
Despite my frame of mind, I cracked a smile at the joke. But then my face crumpled, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop the cry that was building in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and let the panic pulsate through me. I waited for my heartbeat to slow before I opened my eyes again.
“Did you see her?” I managed to whisper.
“Who? Josephine?” Maggie leaned forward. “Was it her? I mean, the tree—”
“No,” I shook my head. “She was trying to warn me, and I think she saved me. The green light. It was her, wasn’t it?”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know.”
I looked over at Ty. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I sighed. “I wish I were.” I took a deep breath and glanced back at Maggie, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “Mags?”
“It’s up to you, Styles.” She took a deep breath and gave me a small smile. “But the dude just saw a tree come to life and attack you. He might as well have the whole story.”
I nodded, and before I had the chance to talk myself out of it, I blurted out the whole damn story: the attacks, the visions, the necklace. Everything.
Ty watched me as I spoke, his face unreadable. “And you don’t have any idea who Josephine is or why she keeps appearing?” he asked when I’d finished.
“I have no idea. I thought she was trying to hurt me, but after tonight . . .”
“We’ve been doing research,” Maggie piped up from the back. “But there’s nothing to find. We don’t have a whole lot to go on.” Her voice sounded as deflated as I felt. “And now, there’s this thing with the tree.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “Can we all agree that that did in fact happen? Because I’m starting to question my own sanity here.”
“It happened, all right,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. The pain in my body was proof. “I have no idea what to do.” I looked over at Ty. “You think we’re crazy, don’t you?”
“Not at all.” His voice was soft but certain.
“So you’re telling me that some girl you barely know just told you she’s seeing ghosts and getting attacked by evil trees, and you’re not even the slightest bit skeptical?”
Ty shrugged. “Not everything in the world makes sense.”
That certainly wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I stared at him for a moment, not sure what to think. “Well . . . thanks for what you did—helping me back there.”
“You saved my life, remember?” He gave me a half smile. “I figured I owed you one. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hold a pretty girl in my arms—even if she is screaming in my face.”
A flush warmed my cheeks. “Sorry about that.”
Ty waved his hand. “No apologizing. Aside from a few claw marks, I came out relatively unscathed.
“Claw marks?”
Ty smiled sheepishly and pulled up the hem of his shirt. His lower abdomen was covered in angry, red lines.
“Holy crapkittens, Styles.” Maggie’s head bobbed between the seats. “You put my cat to shame, and that’s saying something. Frodo Fluffkins is as ornery as they come.”
“Oh my God.” I covered my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“No apologies, remember?” Ty pulled his t-shirt back down in place. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse. And trust me, some of the guys at the gym have way longer nails than you.”
He’s trying to make me laugh. I cracked a tiny smile.
“So, what do we do now?” Maggie asked. “I mean, that was some freaky shit back there.”
“We need to come up with some kind of plan,” I said, even though every inch of my body was throbbing and achy. I wanted to go home and go to bed more than anything, but now more than ever we needed answers.
Plucking a leaf out of my hair, I pulled down the visor to open the compact mirror. I probably looked as awful as I felt. I was right. My eye makeup was running down my face in black streaks. Smudges of dirt mixed with the ruined makeup, and my skin was pale and splotchy. “Yikes,” I muttered, leaning forward to wipe away some of the grime.
Then I gasped.
It’s just your imagination, Lainey. Just your mind playing tricks on you. My mind began rationalizing away my fear, but as I stared at my reflection, I knew something was wrong.
“Ty?” I said, trying to stay as calm as possible. “Can you turn the light on, please?”
As soft yellow light filled the car, I sucked in a ragged breath. My fears were confirmed.
I turned slowly to Ty, my whole body trembling again.
“Lainey, what is it?” Ty asked, his face a stone mask.
“Styles?” Maggie was leaning forward, her hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“My eyes,” I answered, my voice no stronger than a whisper. “It’s my eyes,” I tried again, my voice a little stronger this time.
Ty was clearly confused. “I don’t . . .”
“What color are they?” I interrupted, shouting this time.
I looked in the mirror again, refusing to believe it, but the proof was right in front of me. “Ty, what color are they?” I snapped my head back to face him again.
He stared at me, his hands held up in front of him. But slowly, he leaned forward, his own eyes narrowing in the dim car light.
He exhaled slowly. “They’re green.”
Green.
I dropped my head to my chest and tried to keep from hyperventilating. Behind me, Maggie was making little noises of shock as though she were trying to speak but couldn’t.
“Lainey?” Ty gripped my arm in concern. He didn’t understand.
I raised my head. “Are you sure?” I whispered, staring at the foreign irises in the mirror. I turned back to Ty. “What color are they?”
But the look on Ty’s face was clear. There was no mistake.
My once golden-hazel eyes were now a vibrant shade of green.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“More coffee?” The waitress’s tired voice broke the silence.
Ty shook his head, but Maggie and I both wordlessly handed her our mugs.
“I can’t go home,” I’d said when we left the cemetery. “Not like this. Gareth will freak, and I just can’t deal with anything else right now.”
After sending Gareth a text to let him know I was crashing at Maggie’s, we’d ended up at the Waffle House—one of the only places in Lothbrook that stayed open twenty-four hours. Two rounds of coffee later, we still had no plan.
I tasted blood as I chewed on my bottom lip. My fingers, anxious for something to do, were busy playing with a piece of string I’d pulled off the fabric of my shirt. Over and over, I wound it tightly around one finger before unraveling it again.
I could have died tonight. That single thought kept running through my brain, along with images of snakelike vines. I shivered and tried—unsuccessfully—to think of something else.
I sat back in the hard plastic booth and leaned my head against the windowpane. Outside, cars flew down the road. I couldn’t stop the fleeting wish that I was inside one of them, heading somewhere my troubles couldn’t find me. My reflection stared back at me, but the lighting of the restaurant made it impossible to see any distinguishing colors. I wasn’t fooled, though. It was strange how alien my own face had already become.
Beside me, Ty shifted in his seat. His features were tight, his eyes cloudy as they darted back and forth between me and Maggie, who was furiously scribbling notes on a napkin.
I counted cars as they passed, trying to distract myself. My fingers were still busy with the string. I wound it tightly around one finger, c
utting off the circulation. The tip of my pinkie turned dark red, then purple. I released the tension in the thread, sighing as blood pumped back into my finger—that tiny sense of control filling the aching parts of me.
“Lainey?”
I tore my eyes from the window. Ty was staring at me. “Yes?”
“When my dad was . . .” He broke off for a moment and exhaled. “The night I lost my dad was the worst night of my life. Aside from the grief, the one thing I remember most clearly is how alone I felt.” As he spoke, his hands tightened against the empty coffee mug he held.
“What happened to him?” I didn’t have any right to ask, nor was it polite, but I was too frazzled to consider decorum.
“He was killed,” Ty answered, staring at his hands as he spoke. “Because he refused to bend to someone else’s will.”
The tangible sadness of his words made my chest ache. I wanted to ask more questions, but the pained look on his face kept my mouth shut.
“After it happened,” he continued, “I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I couldn’t understand why. I had so many questions, but no one seemed to know the answers. I just felt so . . . so lost. I was lost—sometimes it still feels that way.” He glanced over at me, his eyes blazing. “I know it’s not the same thing. I can’t possibly understand what’s going through your head right now, but I just want you to know that . . . that you’re not alone, okay?”
I bit down on my lip again. I was lost. The words played over and over in my head, until Ty’s voice faded away and my own voice whispered back at me. I am lost. The words settled on my shoulders like a ton of bricks, as if at any moment, they would crush me.
Ty gave me a small smile, and as he turned his attention back to Maggie, he reached over and entwined my fingers with his, giving my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
My mind was overwhelmed with fear and confusion, but as I held his hand, a small part of my brain made a mental note to later marvel at the strange boy sitting next to me—the mysterious one who was fierce and aloof one second, and incredibly kind and gentle the next.
“Okay!” Maggie said triumphantly, looking up. “I think I might be on to something.” She indicated the scribbled napkins. “I wrote down everything that’s happened so far. I thought there might be a pattern or something that could give us some clue about what we’re dealing with.”
A flicker of hope danced through me. “Is there? A pattern?”
“Not at all,” Maggie said, with a sigh.
My stomach turned, and I gulped down a mouthful of coffee to keep from gagging.
“Everything just seems kind of random, to be honest,” she continued. “But I do think I know what we should do next.”
“What?”
Maggie bit her lip. “Just go with me on this one, okay? I really think we should go see Serena.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Maggie, I already told you. I don’t think she can help us.”
“How do you know? She’s the closest thing we’re gonna get to an expert on this sort of thing. She’s reads tarot cards and performs cleansing rituals on your house—which makes a whole lot more sense now, come to think of it.” Maggie waved her hands to punctuate her words. “She gave you a tiger’s eye for protection on your twelfth birthday.”
“Exactly. She’s a complete nut job.”
Maggie leaned forward. “But what if she’s not? What if she’s just the one other person in this town who sees what others don’t?” She shoved the napkins toward me. “It’s the only lead we have, Styles. There’s nothing else to go on. Besides, after tonight . . . I think it’s obvious we’re in over our heads. We need help.”
I stared at the messy scrawl on the napkins in front of me. “She is good with weird.”
I let out a deep breath. Maggie was smirking, knowing she’d already won. I looked at Ty, who said nothing but gave my hand another reassuring squeeze.
“Fine. But I’m gonna need more coffee.”
The sidewalk was full of antique buyers and the usual Saturday morning brunch crowd. The crisp air was blowing through the golden amber leaves of the trees, and the street had recently been decorated for the upcoming Harvest Festival. Lampposts were festooned with orange twinkle lights, and the shop windows were full of hay bales and pumpkins.
Next to me, a smiling scarecrow waved jauntily from his perch atop a parking meter. I adored this time of year, but right now the only thing I could focus on was moving my feet down the sidewalk.
This is ridiculous. Such a stupid idea! one side of my mind yelled, while the other fired back, It’s not! After everything you’ve seen, can you really say that?
I maneuvered through the crowd, Ty and Maggie in step beside me, and tried to ignore the bickering in my mind.
The storefronts in this area of Main Street were all much the same: large windows and brightly colored doors. I kept an eye on the numbers as we passed, but more to keep my mind busy than for direction. I could find Serena’s shop blindfolded.
The small storefront looked like a rainbow had thrown up on it, especially compared with the sensible, clean look of the dry cleaner’s and dental office that neighbored it.
Several clay gnomes and garden fairies lined the windows, and a large mask of unknown provenance hung from the ceiling like a piñata. There were also hundreds of crystal stars and moons that had been suspended from various strands of patterned ribbon. Stacks of books were arranged in an ornate pattern, and old posters heralding the benefits of reading plastered the windows. Above the bright blue door was a sign that read, “Too Good to Be Threw: Secondhand Books.” Underneath that, a small hand-painted sign read, “Madam Serena: Spiritual Advisor.”
I stopped walking. Maggie bumped into me from behind.
“Walk much, Styles?” Maggie said, then she noticed the look on my face. “What? What’s wrong?”
“My uncle’s here.” I pointed to the rusty red Ford parked in front of the store.
“Maybe you should—” Maggie started.
“No. I’m not ready to talk to him about what’s going on. He can’t know why we’re here. Not yet.” Ducking low, I crept toward the window and peeked into the shop. The front of the store looked empty. There weren’t any customers milling about, and there was no sign of either Serena or Gareth. “We’ll just sneak in and wait until he’s gone.”
Maggie shook her head at me but didn’t argue.
“I think they’re in the back or something,” I said, motioning for Ty and Maggie to join me in my crouch. I put my finger to my lips and eased the door of the shop open, careful not to jingle the bells attached to the door. I poked my head inside and, still seeing the coast was clear, waved Ty and Maggie inside. We dashed behind a tall row of bookcases.
“Does anyone else hear the Mission Impossible theme song right now? Or is it just me?” Maggie whispered, a grin spreading across her face.
“Shhh,” I said. “I don’t want them to hear us.”
We moved around the bookcases slowly, inching toward the back of the store. The muffled undertones of a heated conversation drifted toward us.
“They’re in the office,” I said, leaning around the bookshelf to listen more closely. The words floated clearly through the air, chilling the blood in my veins. “Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Maggie hissed.
“My name. I heard my name. They’re arguing about me.”
Inching farther around the bookcase, I could just make out Gareth and Serena through the open door of a small office. Serena had her hands on her hips, her face flushed, and Gareth had his arms crossed, his posture rigid.
“You don’t understand, Gareth. You have to tell her. Events are in motion, things are already happening. I’ve seen it. Haven’t you felt the pulses? She’s getting stronger.”
“Of course I have. That’s why I’m here,” Gareth said, rubbing his
forehead with his fingers. “But your sight is subjective, Serena. You know that. You told me when she was twelve that she’d be killed by a bounty hunter, and that never happened. There’s no reason to think that she’s in immediate danger now. If someone were coming for her, we’d know it.” He began pacing. “We stick to the plan. Keep cloaking her as long as possible.”
“But she is in danger. I can sense it. Even with all the wards we’ve placed around her, we can’t hide her forever. You need to bring her to me. If I could just do a proper reading, I might be able—”
“No,” Gareth argued. “There’s still time. I know I need to tell her, but . . . we still have time.”
“Gareth,” Serena pleaded, “if he finds out about Lainey, who she is, what she is, he will hunt her down just like he did her mother. You know it’s true. You always said you were going to tell her, that you were going to protect her. Why can’t you see that time is now?”
“Don’t talk to me like every single thing I’ve ever done hasn’t been to protect her,” Gareth practically growled. “I swore to her mother that I would take care of her, and I’ve kept my oath. I won’t let anything happen to her now.”
Serena exhaled slowly. “I know that, Gareth. But you cannot protect her from her destiny. She deserves to know the truth—and to hear it from you.”
“She’s still so young. How can I possibly burden her with that?” Gareth’s forehead creased and the lines made him look a hundred years old.
“You tell me all the time that she’s strong. That she’s got her mother’s spirit. She can handle it.”
“She’s not ready.”
“She’s not ready? Or you’re not ready?”
“Serena, how can I look her in the face and tell her that everything she knows is . . . is a lie?” Gareth’s voice cracked.
“It will break her heart,” Serena whispered, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “But you must help her understand. We’re running out of time.”
“Her seventeenth birthday is still a few weeks away.”
Serena clasped her hands together in frustration. “Gareth, please. I know it’s hard, but you have to do right by her. The pulses I’ve felt? They’re unlike anything I’ve felt in a long time. She’s her mother’s daughter, and she is capable of far more than we can possibly imagine. If I’ve sensed the power, and you have sensed it, then it won’t be long before others come searching for the source.”