Fingers in the Mist

by O'Dell Hutchison

  “You think I’m out of control, huh?” I pull away from him, ducking my head to hide the smile toying with the corner of my mouth.

  “Maybe just a little.”

  I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his.

  “You taste like mustard,” he says before leaning in to kiss me again. “And cheese. And mayo. Definitely mayo.”

  “I just ate a sandwich, you jerk.”

  For a moment everything feels more normal than paranormal. It’s nice. I wonder if we’ll ever get back to the way we used to be after all this is over—provided I survive Sunday night. This is how it should be. Two teens laughing and sneaking kisses in the kitchen. Going on dates. Cuddling in front of the TV. Sharing inside jokes. This is what I wanted to come back here for. Not fighting soul-sucking, body-stealing, half-human freaks.

  “So, what just happened?” He pulls a chair up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, laying his head on my shoulder.

  “Well, you just kissed me, and then I kissed you and you said I tasted like a sandwich—”

  “No, I mean outside, you goof.”

  “You know about that?” I ask, reaching across the table for another sandwich. “You want one?”

  “No thanks.” He leans over my shoulder and takes a huge bite out of the sandwich before I can stuff it in my face. “I’ll share yours.”

  “Jerk.” I laugh, handing him the rest of the sandwich as I reach for the last one on the plate.

  “Seriously, what happened? I was down in the basement and was about to sneak in when the house started rattling.” He pulls his chair around to face me.

  “They came back,” I say, purposely being vague. How do I tell Trevor his brother was the one who came here and that Mason was looking for him?

  “Who did?”

  “The Redeemers.”

  “I guessed that much.” He swallows the last of his sandwich and reaches for my bottle of water. “Who was it?”

  “Mason,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “He tried, but I’m okay.” I’m a little surprised that he seems more concerned about my well-being than the fact his own brother works for the Redeemers.

  “Mason … ” he says, the realization finally hitting him. “That’s why he’s been acting so weird.”

  “They must have taken him when you all were camping and bound him. Nana said—”

  He nods, cutting me off. “Yeah, I know. Are you sure he’s one of them?”

  “Yes. He has used his powers against me on more than one occasion and his soul … isn’t entirely his own. It was bound, or at least it wasn’t alone.”

  “What do you mean it wasn’t alone?”

  “One was a reddish color and the other blue. The red is his origin soul, and the blue the soul of the Redeemer. They haven’t completely bound yet.”

  “What does mine look like?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

  I lean back in my chair and place my legs over his. “It’s a very deep maroon color. Not quite red and not quite purple. It’s very sexy.”

  “Wait, you could scan me that fast? You’ve definitely got that skill down.”

  “No.” I laugh. “I saw it before.”

  “You perv. You’ve been checking out my soul.” He says this as if he just caught me checking out his ass—which I have done plenty of times.

  “I had to confirm you aren’t one of them. Just doing my job.”

  “Did I pass?”

  “You pass. You have a healthy, uncluttered soul.”

  “And it’s maroon?” he asks. “I’ve never really liked maroon, but I guess if you think it’s sexy … ”

  “It appears that maroon is the color of choice for healthy, intact souls.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been cheating on me,” he says, trying to sound offended. “You dirty soul peeker.”

  I laugh as I pull him in for another kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “But yours is the only one I want.”

  He smiles and kisses me on the tip of my nose before turning serious. “You never said why Mason was here.”

  “He said he was walking by and he sensed someone else in the house.”

  “Shit, he saw me? From outside?”

  “Yes, and you almost got yourself killed. Mason was going to report you. He would have if I hadn’t stopped him.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but I can’t bear to tell him that his brother was all too eager to march over to his house and drag him outside so the Redeemers could rip him to shreds.

  “Do you think they’ll come back?” He starts to stand.

  “I don’t think so. Nana went to take care of it. Either way, you probably shouldn’t be here.” I really don’t want him to go, but I don’t want him to die either.

  “Wait a second. Were you wearing my stone earlier?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “Yeah.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out.

  “You should be wearing this. Nana said it would keep them from spotting you.”

  “It doesn’t exactly make me feel manly,” he says, holding it out to me.

  “Would you rather be manly or alive?” I take the necklace from him and place it around his neck. “Do not take this off. Understood?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

  “You know we probably could have avoided that whole smack-down in my front yard if you’d been wearing this.” I can’t help but be just a little annoyed with him, but I decide against a guilt trip.

  “Sorry.” He looks at the floor, shuffling his feet. “Should I go?”

  “I don’t know.” I want him to stay, at least for a little while longer. “We should probably go down to the basement, just in case.”

  I light a candle before we start down the stairs. I search through some of the boxes for a blanket. The only thing I can find is one of Mitch’s old bedspreads; it has a huge T-Rex in the center. It’s not exactly romantic, but it’ll do. I spread it across the floor and sit with my back against the wall. Trevor sprawls across the blanket, his head in my lap. I unconsciously run my fingers through his soft, brown curls, enjoying the silence.

  “This will all be over in a couple of days,” he says.

  “Hopefully.” I know that despite what happens Sunday night, things will be very, very different.

  “It will,” he says,” and then we can focus on other things, like school and dates and the costume ball.”

  “Seriously?” I laugh. “You are actually looking forward to a costume ball?” He so doesn’t seem like the type of guy who attends costume balls.

  “Aren’t you? I thought all girls looked forward to those kinds of things.”

  “I’ve never been to a dance,” I admit.

  He looks up at me. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “No. It’s true. I was never asked, but I also never put myself in a position to be asked,” I say, thinking back to my emo days.

  “You mean Jonah never asked you?”

  I flinch at the sound of his name. After everything that has happened the last few days, I’ve actually managed to forget about him. “No, he didn’t. He wasn’t exactly the type to attend dances.”

  “Then that makes me a better boyfriend.” He smiles up at me and my heart melts. After a moment of silence he says, “You know, I never met the guy, but I really don’t like him. I hate what he turned you into.”

  “I know. Me too.” I lean my head against the wall and stare at the open beams in the ceiling above us.

  “What was it like? Being in rehab, I mean.”

  The question takes me by surprise, and I don’t speak for a moment. This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.

  “You don’t have to tell me if
you don’t want to,” he says. “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  We sit in silence as I mull his question over. It’s not a big deal. He already knows I was in rehab, and he knows about my powers, which are what caused me to start using in the first place. What have I got to lose?

  “It doesn’t matter to me, ya know,” he says, breaking the silence. “I like you for who you were when we were kids and for who you are now. Not who you were then … when you were with him. That wasn’t the real you.”

  “I did many things I’m not proud of while I was dating him.” The events of the months after my sixteenth birthday tease the edges of my memory, and I try to push them away.

  “I shot my uncle,” he says after another moment of silence. “I killed him.”

  “But it was an accident.” I lace my fingers with his and squeeze his hand in mine.

  “That’s what I told everyone, but it’s not entirely true.” His voice is hesitant, as if he’s sharing a secret he shouldn’t.

  “You meant to kill him?”

  “I hated him,” he says. “He was a drunk. He mocked Sarah all the time, like having Down syndrome is funny. Like she was put on this earth for his enjoyment.” His voice is heavy with emotion, and I can feel the hatred rolling off him. “He beat his wife all the time.”

  His words make me sick. I will never understand people who beat on others.

  “The day it happened we’d gone hunting. For some reason, my dad let Sarah come with us even though she always had a crying fit anytime she saw a wounded animal, or one dead on the side of the road. Hunting probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “We’d found a bunch of squirrels chattering around the base of a tree. My dad set me up with his .22 and then went over to help Mason get his gun sighted. Dad had given me strict instructions to not shoot until he said it was okay, so I waited patiently. When Sarah caught on that we were going to shoot at the squirrels, she started wailing, which made uncle Hank start yelling. The more he yelled, the louder she wailed, until he ended up backhanding her. The minute she dropped to the ground I saw red. My father went after him, but Hank was a really big man, and no match for my dad. Hank saw him coming and dodged him, then hit my dad with the butt of his gun.”

  He stops for a moment, as if it’s too difficult for him to continue.

  “When I saw him point his gun at my dad, I was terrified that he would shoot him, so I pointed my gun at him and shot. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was still upset over what he’d done to Sarah, and I was scared to death that he would kill my dad. The bullet grazed his neck, but it hit his carotid. He bled out before help arrived.”

  I don’t say anything. What can I say? I squeeze his hand, silently letting him know that I understand.

  “Do you feel differently toward me?” he finally asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.

  “Of course not. I probably would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes.”

  “I feel the same way. About you, I mean. Whatever you’ve done—it doesn’t matter.” He reaches up and touches my face.

  “I was addicted to Klonopin.” I haven’t said those words since my last group session in rehab.

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “It’s a prescription drug for anxiety.”

  “And you got addicted?” He sounds a little disappointed. Like he was expecting me to tell him I was a coke-head or something.

  “Yeah. I took a lot. Like, way more than I should have. I started right after my sixteenth birthday when all of this weird shit started happening to me. Jonah gave it to me. It helped calm me down and kept me from accidentally going off and hurting someone. After what happened at my birthday party … ” My voice trails off. I’ve never told anyone what happened.

  “What happened?” He looks up at me, and when my gaze meets his I know it’s okay. I know I can tell him.

  “I killed someone. Jonah said it wasn’t my fault, but … ”

  I look down at his face to gauge his reaction, but he’s not looking at me. He squeezes my hand, and I continue.

  “My friend Amy had a party for me at her parents’ lake house. Jonah and I went together. There were about twenty people there and we were all drinking. One of Amy’s brothers had brought this guy Matt with him. The guy was in idiot. He kept hitting on me, and kept trying to pick a fight with Jonah. At one point in the night, I’d gone inside to use the bathroom. When I came out, he was standing outside the door. As soon as it opened, he was on me—kissing me and running his hands up my shirt. He was much larger than me and I couldn’t make him stop.”

  I feel Trevor tense, and I pause for a moment.

  “He kept kissing me and I kept pushing at him. I hit him and he hit me back. When his hand connected, this surge of anger washed over me, and the next thing I knew, he was flying across the hall and into a wall. I took the opportunity to run outside. When I got there, I grabbed my jacket and told Jonah that we needed to leave.

  “We jumped into his car and started toward the main road leading away from the cabin. I was hysterical over what had just happened. Jonah tried to calm me down enough to tell him what had happened, but I couldn’t find the words. When we turned onto the main highway a pair of headlights rushed up behind us. It was a large truck, and the driver kept blaring their horn at us. Jonah slowed down so they could go around, but instead, they rammed the back of Jonah’s car. They did this a couple more times, and each time it happened something surged within me. They blared their horn again, and I turned around in my seat and screamed at them. When I did that, the truck careened off the road and rolled down the embankment, bursting into flames.

  “The next day I found out that it was Matt. He died in the crash.”

  Trevor sits up and looks at me. “It wasn’t your fault. Maybe he lost control. Maybe you had nothing to do with it.”

  “I made his truck crash. It was my fault. I willed it to run off the road and it did.”

  I shake my head, looking down at my shaking hands. Trevor sits up and places a hand under my chin and lifts my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I lean over and give him two kisses. One for not freaking out and another longer, deeper one for making me feel like I’m not a monster.

  Trevor lies down and pulls me down with him, wrapping his arms around me. “So what kind of costume are you going to wear?”

  “For what?”

  “The costume ball,” he says.

  “I don’t even have a date yet. Why would I pick out a dress?”

  He rolls me over on my back, then straddles me.

  “Caitlyn Foster. Will you do me the honor of attending the Highland Falls High costume ball with me?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, a smile teasing my lips.

  “Wrong answer.” He pokes me in the ribs, and that single poke sends me into fits of giggles. I am extremely ticklish. “I’m going to tickle you until you say yes.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” I say as he continues to poke me. “I’d be happy to.”

  He rolls off me and lies down with his chin on my chest, the flame of the candle flickering in his eyes. “We’re going to make it through the next couple of days. We’re going to do whatever we need to do to get Mitch and Chas and Erin back.”

  “And Jeb.” His eyes grow wide when I mention Jeb’s name. “They took him tonight.”

  He rolls over onto his back and runs a hand over his face. “You have to stop them. I can’t lose everyone I care about.”

  I snuggle up beside him and drape my arm over his chest. “I know. I’m going to try. I’m really going to try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Trevor and I lie side by side as the shadows from the candle dance around us. Neither of us speaks; we just lie here enjoying the silence and the closeness of the other. I do my best to push back the swirling anxiety I feel when I think about all the lives that depend on me, but it won’t go away.

  I f
eel myself dozing off when a rush of air sweeps across the room, causing the flame of the candle to jump.

  “Get up.” Nana storms into the room, her entrance as powerful as the gust of wind that preceded her. “Trevor, you need to leave. You can’t be here.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask as we untangle ourselves.

  “I don’t have time to answer questions right now.”

  Trevor bends down to kiss me goodbye as Nana huffs near the door. “Trevor, let’s go,” she says with exasperation.

  “I’m coming with you.” I grab the nub of a candle from the floor and move to the door.

  “No, you’re not.” The force of her words stops me in my tracks. “Go to bed and do not leave your room until morning. Is that clear?”

  “But, you said—”

  “Not tonight. I’m afraid the Council is on to us. I’ve done as much damage control as I can, but I sense they don’t believe me. They are on high alert and they’re patrolling the town. They’ll catch us if we do anything tonight. Do as I say and go up to your room. Now.” Without so much as a second glance she pulls Trevor through the door, closing it behind her.

  ***

  The following morning my father and I make our way to the church just as we have every other morning this week. I’m anxious, and my body sparks with anticipation. Tomorrow night—just a little more than twenty-four hours from now—I’m to save Mitch and my friends, and I still have no idea how. I stand at the back of the crowd, doing my best to stay out of sight. I’ve no doubt everyone on the Council knows by now what a menace I am. I need to appear innocent and inconspicuous. I’m such a comedian. Like that’s even possible.

  It doesn’t shock me when I find Jeb’s family standing at the top of the church steps with Reverend Carter. His mother weeps while his father comforts her. Beau, along with Jeb’s older brother, David, stare numbly at the ground. At least Mitch has both Jeb and Chas to watch over him now.

  After the service, I rush home, not bothering to hug Trevor goodbye or ask my grandmother for confirmation on a training time. Who knows if she even wants to help me, and honestly, who cares? I don’t need her. I know the basics. I’ll just practice by myself.