Discern (Discern Saga, Book #1)

by Samantha Shakespeare

  There was silence for a few miles, but I could feel him watching me. My fingers slowly moved over my arm as I collected an inch of skin and pinched as hard as I humanly could. “Ouch,” I muttered.

  “You’re not dreaming,” he said disconcerted.

  This whole ordeal had been real. I contemplated whether I should speak or not. But my curiosity outweighed my fear—at least for the moment. “Just checking.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, his voice still distressed.

  My fingers nervously shook as I tried to remain calm, but I could feel a tear beginning to well. I raised my right hand and inconspicuously wiped the lone tear from my eye. The last thing I needed was to appear weak at this moment, fearing it would anger him.

  “Oh, god,” he sighed heavily. “What have I done?”

  I cautiously looked in his direction debating whether to make eye contact or not, but as soon as my head turned, our eyes met. His eyes were still dark which seemed to match his anguished expression. We both stared in silence. My breathing became uneven.

  “What just happened?” The words flowed from my mouth before I could stop them.

  “How’s your hand?” he asked, completely ignoring my question.

  “It’s better now.”

  I looked out the window. My question was obviously not going to be answered, so I decided against asking any more. I could still feel his eyes on me, which made the ride incredibly uncomfortable.

  The slight movement of his hand caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I instinctively looked. He nervously placed his hand on my forehead. My eyes closed as my body shook from fear and, my bottom lip began to quiver. My head began to spin in circles.

  He quickly jerked his hand away. “I can’t do it,” he murmured.

  The heat and the spinning immediately ceased. My eyes could not focus, so I began blinking rapidly. This seemed to work as I could now clearly see the road ahead.

  He pulled out his phone from the center console and quickly began dialing. The sound of ringing blared from his phone as a sonorous male voice answered.

  “I just had a little run in with a few guys at a diner on Highway two eighty-seven, outside of Boulder. I need you to check it out and see what the damage might be,” he ordered.

  The man on the other end of the phone spoke too fast for me to decipher a single word.

  “I’m driving. I had to get away from the situation. I’ll meet up with you in an hour,” Andrew explained.

  He ended the call before the man could reply. My body stayed motionless as I continued to stare out the window.

  “Haley.” He called my name softly.

  “Yes?” My voice trembled.

  “Can you promise me something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you will never speak to anyone about this night.” His voice was stern.

  “I won’t speak of it…ever,” I promised.

  “No one will know you were with me.”

  “Are you going to be in trouble?” I mustered the strength to speak.

  “No, as long you don’t speak of this,” he said stiffly.

  The tears began sliding down my cheeks. “You have my word.”

  He cautiously raised his hand and wiped my tears. “I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Will you have to leave town?”

  “No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Why would you ask that?” he asked with an unusual expression.

  “I’m pretty sure those men are dead, and I don’t even want to know what happened when you went back in there,” I gulped.

  “Everything will be fine.”

  “What if the police find out?”

  “The man I spoke with works for the government, so don’t worry,” he assured.

  “I’m so scared,” I whispered softly, unsure if I desired for him to hear.

  “Please don’t be. I only reacted that way because I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

  I was now certain that my delusions had not been delusions at all—there was something definitely peculiar about him. And as much as I should feel the need to run, I feared his absence more. I was suddenly attached to him—even after this horrific experience. My heart ached as I anxiously wondered what would happen after tonight.

  His hand shook as he reached in my direction. The warmth from his hand radiated throughout my body as he placed it lightly atop mine. I inhaled deeply.

  “Will I ever know the truth?” I asked.

  “The truth about what?”

  “Tonight,” I replied.

  “What would you like to know?” he asked flatly.

  “How you healed my hand, for starters?”

  “Maybe some other day,” he said, retracting his hand.

  “Will I see you again?” I asked anxiously.

  “That depends,” he sighed. “Do you wish to?”

  My normal reaction would have been ‘Hell, no’, but I could not speak those words for they would not be true. “Yes,” I answered, almost ashamed.

  “Then you shall.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I get this all figured out.”

  “Okay.”

  He rolled up right beside my car, which was still at the school parking lot. My hand hesitantly touched the door handle, fearing it would be last time I saw him. He would either be arrested or would flee Boulder. But I couldn’t shake my feelings. Both of those options seemed too unfair, even after what I had just witnessed.

  His actions were easily justified by his intention of keeping me safe. Surely that qualified for a lesser punishment. I shook my head as I tried to understand why I had chosen to side with a murderer. The word sent chills down my spine as I thought it for the first time tonight.

  I wouldn’t have noticed Andrew touching my leg if it hadn’t been for the immense heat his hand radiated.

  “Please don’t be scared. Your safety is my only concern,” he breathed.

  “I believe you.”

  “I hope that you do.” A tortured expression spread across his face.

  My hand slid across, gently touching his hand that rested upon my thigh. Sparks tickled the tips of my fingers.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said softly.

  “I promise you will.”

  Reluctantly pulling the door handle, I turned and slid out of the car. He waited until I was in my car before he sped away. I watched his taillights fade into the distance.

  The drive home was long as I drove ten miles under the speed limit. The once bothersome issue of my father’s secret relationship seemed like years ago. Bigger issues had surfaced. Three men were possibly dead, but it did not diminish my deep desire to be with Andrew.

  The sparks that ran through my body when we touched were exhilarating, but the change of color in his eyes and the burn of his touch when his body eerily glowed were frightening. There was no rational explanation. Unless he was some government experiment, but I refused to speculate as it all seemed crazy.

  My car slowly rolled into the garage stall as I noticed my father’s car was gone. I was relieved to be alone tonight for I could not speak of this evening’s events. I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel pondering over my inexplicable feelings for Andrew.

  Not only had I just begun to heal from a broken heart, but had witnessed one of the most terrifying events of my life. Yet, all I could think about was if I would see him again, and if the strange changes in him would re-emerge—now realizing I had not been delusional. There was definitely a story behind these differences and abilities—I just wondered if I would ever know the truth.

  8

  Sigh of Relief

  A light sound of knocking startled me. I trudged down the seemingly long staircase, fearing who might be at the door. A week ago, I wouldn’t have had such worries, besides the possibility of Braden showing up. However, today the possibilities were endless, but I wouldn’t allow my mind to wander, fearin
g I would turn into a sobbing mess.

  After nervously peering through the peephole I opened the door. “Hello, Ms. Cardwell.” I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Afternoon, Haley. You may call me Evelyn,” she offered nervously. “I wanted to hand deliver your dress for this evening’s occasion.”

  She extended her arm, which the dress was draped along. Unsteadily reaching for the dress, I almost fell in to her, but managed to balance myself before a complete disaster.

  “Thanks so much. You really shouldn’t have, I was going to pick it up myself,” I replied as I rested my body against the doorframe.

  “It’s no problem at all. I promised this dress to you on Wednesday, and I failed, so it’s my job to deliver it on time,” she apologized.

  “It really isn’t your fault. I should’ve bought my dress earlier.”

  “I made a promise, and I failed,” she repeated.

  “It’s fine, really.”

  “I have another dress to deliver, so I should get going,” she said, waving as she scurried back to her car.

  “Thanks again, Evelyn,” I smiled and waved, quickly closing the door.

  I ran upstairs, careful not to drag the dress on the floor. I peeled off the plastic cover. It was as beautiful as I remembered. I untied my robe and slipped off my shirt. I slid into the dress and gazed in my full-length mirror.

  It was perfect. I had almost given up on wearing this dress. The seamstress had a bad case of food poisoning and had been sick since Tuesday morning. Evelyn had done everything in her power to convince another seamstress to come up from Denver.

  But the joy of receiving my dress was soon replaced by sorrow. I had not heard from Andrew since Tuesday night. I shuddered slightly as I remembered back to that awful night. Nothing seemed real.

  Our Wednesday night date never happened, and his Thursday night class had been cancelled. I was frustrated by the fact that we hadn’t exchanged numbers yet. The only way of contacting him was through his school e-mail address.

  Sliding my laptop out from under my bed, I was hopeful he might have responded. My e-mail slowly loaded. Despondency overwhelmed my hope, as I scanned through my inbox—there was no reply from him.

  After class had been cancelled last night, I took it upon myself to drive by the diner. There was no broken window or yellow caution tape indicating an altercation had taken place. The lights were on and cars were parked outside.

  My fingers rapidly typed as I entered the local newspaper’s website hoping to see something about Tuesday night’s events. Again, there was no mention of a triple homicide or any police being dispatched to the diner. He had mentioned the government, but the building had been severely damaged and within two nights, it was miraculously repaired. I started to believe that I had imagined the whole incident.

  Disappointed, I set my laptop aside and curled up on my bed. There was no one to turn to for advice, not even if my mother were alive today could I seek guidance for such a bazaar, unfathomable situation as I was now involved in.

  Tonight was going to be difficult. Andrew was supposed to be there, but I had a bad feeling that he would be absent from tonight’s event. My body stayed motionless as I felt depression re-emerging. I had just begun to feel alive again—and again it was suddenly being torn away.

  My thoughts wandered in to dark territory; I had to pull myself together. I began to believe that my behavior was absolutely absurd. I didn’t know this man well enough to be getting so involved. Maybe this was just another distraction from the real problem. I had to think of something else. I picked up the phone. There was only one person to call.

  “Hey, where in the world have you been?” Ryan asked with relief in his voice.

  “Here at home,” I answered, bewildered by his question.

  “Where did you go Tuesday night?”

  “Nowhere,” I gulped, fearing he suspected my whereabouts.

  “Did you see Camilla waiting?”

  “Oh-oh yeah, I sure did.” I tried to sound convincing.

  “I guess I can understand why you left that night, but I didn’t see you on Wednesday or Thursday night,” he said worried.

  “I wasn’t feeling so good on Wednesday night.” I wasn’t lying, I really did feel sick to my stomach and completely confused. “And uh, you know that Thursday night class was cancelled.”

  “Oh, well, I was worried that Andrew had taken you out into the mountains and killed you,” he joked darkly.

  “Why in the world would you say that?” I fumed.

  “Just a joke,” he said, regretting it immediately. “Sorry.”

  “Not funny at all,” I pouted. “Why would you think Andrew would do something like that to me?”

  “I don’t know, I was joking. It was a bad joke. I don’t think the guy is a psycho or anything, but the way he looks at you is creepy.”

  “Creepy?”

  “Yeah, like he’s fixated on you. Which is great if that’s what you want, but you hardly know the guy.” His voice was a mixture of disgust and worry.

  “Well, I don’t hang out with him, and even if I did, it would be my decision,” I huffed.

  “So are you saying you want to?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Well, good. You should stay away. I have a bad feeling about him,” he warned.

  “You have a bad feeling about every guy, except yourself,” I scoffed.

  “True.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Are you still going tonight?” I asked, hoping at least one other person I enjoyed being around besides my father would be there.

  “Of course, I’ll be there,” he confirmed.

  “Camilla isn’t your date, is she?” He couldn’t see me rolling my eyes.

  “No way!” he exclaimed. “No date,” he ensured. “What about you?”

  “My father’s my date,” I laughed lightly.

  “So, are you going to save me a dance?” he asked anxiously.

  “Of course.”

  “Good, because my mother is a horrible dancer,” he laughed.

  “So is my father,” I laughed, too.

  “I’ll be sitting way in the back again this year, so make sure you throw me a couple of glances from the snooty tables at the very front,” he joked.

  It was sad. Even as he joked, I realized how unfair these events really were. Ryan’s mother was a saint that worked every charity organization, donated goods to families in need, and just about ran her own animal shelter in her home, but still she sat at the very back of these events. Their family lacked two things—money and power.

  “Believe me, I don’t want sit at the front.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to sit at the back by the loud speakers,” he scoffed.

  “These events suck.”

  “No, they don’t,” he snickered.

  “Yes, they do,” I challenged. “Your mom should be at the front.”

  “Maybe one day.” His voice was hopeful.

  “Hopefully,” I replied, knowing this would probably never happen as long as money and power influenced society.

  “I better get going,” he sighed. “I still have to pick up my tuxedo.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

  My head softly hit the pillows as I lay back down. Boulder societal rules were not the only issues frustrating me—Ryan’s dislike for Andrew was too. Even if I were at liberty to speak about Tuesday night, Ryan definitely would not be the confidant I desired. He would never understand these feelings I felt—they were so powerful.

  The time to ponder over things had ended—it was time to start getting ready. My father would be showing up promptly at four and it was now almost one. I had a hair and makeup appointment at one-thirty.

  My salon experience was excruciating. Everyone was gabbing about the guest of honor at tonight’s event. Apparently this man was unbelievably gorgeous and an exceptional speaker. I had never heard of him, but I would have the pleasure of meeting him tonight. I was s
ure my father would force me to speak with him, hoping he could get my mind off Braden. He wasn’t exactly privy to my current crush; at least I hoped Evelyn Cardwell had not mentioned Andrew or his purchase of my dress.

  There would be no interest in the speaker as my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn’t imagine anyone more captivating than Andrew, and the sparks of electricity between us made my whole body tingle.

  But attraction aside, there was definitely something eerily mystical about some of his features and his strength. I desperately hoped it was only my imagination—that was easy to deal with. But I feared if it wasn’t, how sinister the truth might be.

  Four o’clock on the dot, my father knocked on my bedroom door. Glancing one last time at my reflection in the mirror to ensure my golden locks were still pinned up properly, I took a deep breath and headed to the door.

  “Are you ready, beautiful?” My father asked charmingly.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I reluctantly opened the door to reveal my gown choice, wondering if he would approve. “Oh my, you are more than beautiful. You are a vision of perfection,” he complemented.

  “Thanks, Dad, you don’t look so shabby yourself,” I smiled. I wasn’t surprised he looked so dapper. He did allegedly have connections to the owner of the only formal wear shop in town. Eventually, I had to address the issue, but tonight wasn’t the right time.

  “You look more and more like your mother every day.” His smile was distressed. His heart still seemed to yearn for her. If, in fact, he was dating Evelyn, I shouldn’t be so tough on him. How could I expect him to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable because of my mother’s decisions—which forever changed our lives?

  The long, black stretch limo was waiting in the driveway. Mr. Thomas, the same limo driver my father always hired, nodded and opened the door for us. We slid in and headed to our destination.

  I gazed out the window as we drove up the long, winding cobblestone drive. Memories of my childhood came rushing back as I once loved attending these special occasions at the country club. My mother would always fuss over me, including purchasing a beautiful new dress for me to wear.