by Sophie Davis
When Kannon parked the Jeep in the Holloways’ driveway, he turned the engine off and turned towards me. The afternoon sun made the green of his irises even more vibrant than usual. After holding hands for the better part of our aquarium date, the shock when he laced his fingers with mine was mild and familiar. The jolt when our lips met, however, was even more potent than before. My skin felt alive with the electricity, the hairs on my arms and neck standing at attention.
Kannon wound his fingers through my windblown tangles, and tiny pinpricks of current passed from the pads to my scalp. My free hand rested on the thin cotton over his chest, feeling as his heart skipped every third beat. His tongue dancing with mine was like eating Pop Rocks while drinking soda. Even the Jeep’s gear shift couldn’t stop the magnetic pull of our bodies to one another.
“Call me later?” he whispered against my ear, voice husky.
I nodded jerkily since words failed to form in my brain from lack of oxygen.
Once safely back inside the Holloways’ kitchen, I caught sight of my reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator: strands of auburn hair stuck out wildly in every direction; pupils dilated, black blocking out the brown; sweater hanging off one shoulder to reveal the strap of my bra.
Thank god no one is home, I thought. I looked like a teen pop star after a long night of hitting the Hollywood club scene complete with too many trips to the ladies’ room for a pick-me-up. Kannon affected me in a way that no other person ever had, and I was pretty sure I liked it.
****
That night over a home-cooked meal of chicken and potatoes, comfort food according to Mrs. Holloway, I told Devon everything. It was a warm night, and her parents had let us eat outside so we could have privacy to talk. To her credit, she remained silent, allowing me the luxury of babbling and asking rhetorical questions that she had no better answers for than I did. This time I didn’t shed a single tear; the shock that had previously paralyzed my emotions had worn off, replaced by anger and resentment for the two people that I’d trusted most in the world. Being angry with my father felt wrong, particularly if he was no longer alive, but I couldn’t help it. While my mother had always treated me like a china doll that belonged in a cabinet, my father had always treated me as an equal, a friend. Keeping such a monumental secret wasn’t in line with the man I’d thought he was.
“Maybe we could go visit Samantha,” Devon suggested when I was finished.
I narrowed my eyes. “She’s dead, Dev,” I said bluntly.
“Right, but she must be buried nearby.”
“If by nearby you mean California, then yes, she is,” I retorted in a harsh tone.
I often wondered just how much it took to offend Devon Holloway. Sure, she got angry at Rick all the time, but nasty comments usually rolled off Devon like water on a duck’s feathers. Apparently, her best friend acting uncharacteristically bitchy did not. Wounded was the only way to describe the expression Devon wore. I felt horrible. She was trying to be supportive, and I was taking out my frustration with my imposter parents on her.
“I’m sorry, Dev,” I said gently. “It was a good idea. And if she were here, then I would agree with you. I would do anything I could to learn more about the woman who shared half of my DNA. But California is a little out of my price range at the moment.”
“What do you know about her?” Devon asked, back to her usual chipper self.
I shrugged. The things I knew about Samantha Cable could be counted on one hand. According to her older sister, she was a hippy drug addict who had lacked ambition and focus. She never married and died in a drunk-driving accident at twenty-four, leaving behind a daughter: me. My mother kept several old photo albums from her childhood on the bookcase in her home office. Every picture from Mom’s teenage years included Samantha. At one time, they’d been close friends, always smiling and laughing together. In life, my birth mother had been beautiful with big brown eyes that always smiled, long hair the color of the cherry wood cabinets in my old kitchen, and a perpetually tanned complexion that gave her a more exotic look than her name suggested.
“Not much,” was all I said to Devon.
“Let’s look her up online,” Devon replied, a light bulb going off behind her blue eyes.
I almost laughed. Of course Devon wanted to look her up online. And it wasn’t a bad idea, except Samantha Cable had died before the internet boom. Her death announcement wasn’t likely to be in an online obituary. But once Devon got it in her mind to do something, there was nothing I could say or do to stop her, so I just nodded and said, “Good idea.”
I rose, collecting my half-eaten dinner and empty water glass. Devon remained seated, her eyes focused on a spot on the patio table. She worked a loose splinter with her thumbnail. When my best friend did meet my questioning gaze, her big blue eyes were bright with guilt.
“What?” I asked, a hollow feeling taking over my belly. It was never a good sign when Devon displayed signs of guilt; it wasn’t in her normal repertoire of emotions.
“So, when your mom talked to my mom again this morning, she told my mother about the possibility your dad was more than missing. I got to thinking that maybe if we saw his house, or wherever he’s been living, it would give us some clues.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But I bet the PIs have already searched Dad’s place, if Mr. Wentworth even knows where it is.”
“True. But what we are looking for and what they are looking for is very different.”
“What are we looking for?” I asked, confused.
“We are looking for his research. Your father has been researching your...” Devon shook her head, at a loss for words.
“Problem? Race? Mythological status?” I supplied.
“Yeah, all of that. He has been researching it for years; we don’t have years to learn about the Egrgoroi like he did. The only thing we know for sure is that your service to the gods started the day you turned eighteen. Whatever he knew is valuable to us, and since we can’t ask him and none of his contacts have responded to my email, the research is our next best option.”
“You think I should call Jamieson’s father and ask him to take me to Dad’s house?” I asked.
“I sort of already did ask Mr. Wentworth to take us to your dad’s place.”
“You what?” I asked stunned.
“The number for Mr. Wentworth’s firm is online, so during my free period I called him at work. He agreed to take us this Saturday.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be miffed or impressed by her ingenuity.
“He said that was the soonest he could go.” She paused, gauging my reaction to her newest idea. When I didn’t jump down her throat for calling Mr. Wentworth without asking me first, her shoulders sagged with relief and she plunged forward. “In the meantime, we should go back over the stuff in your dad’s folder. Now that we have a context for the research, it might make more sense. Don’t suppose you have your half with you?”
I shook my head. I didn’t even have my toothbrush with me; thankfully, Mrs. Holloway had a mini drug store in the bathroom closet.
“Okay, then let’s go through what I have here and see what we can learn about Samantha tonight and go from there,” Devon said.
The way Devon was making this whole thing into a puzzle for us to solve made me feel better. Approaching an illogical problem the same way we’d approach a science experiment - determining the problem, doing the research, developing a hypothesis, testing the theory - helped me to further detach myself from the situation. The distance created the pretense that this was all happening to someone else, a stranger. The more I thought about my life in those terms, the better I dealt with it.
Dad’s papers that I had left with Devon were a lot like the ones at my house. None of the passages made a direct reference to the Egrgoroi, but there were several mentions of the Chosen and the Panel. Devon had already made her own notes on possible interpretations. She agreed with me that the Chosen were the Egrgoroi, but beyond that she hadn’
t made any great revelations.
As anticipated, there was no internet information on Samantha Cable, except that she was buried in Redwood Gardens National Cemetery in Palo Alto, California, which I already knew. All the deceased on my mother’s side of the family now rested in that same picturesque graveyard. Undeterred, Devon continued to scour the digital world well into the wee hours of the night.
Somewhere around two a.m. ― I wasn’t sure since my vision had gone blurry staring at the computer screen ― Devon finally admitted defeat and we went to bed. Once again, no dreams visited me in sleep; the new dream catcher was doing its magic.
Chapter Twenty
On the way to school Thursday morning, Mandy reminded me about my promise to take her shopping for her date with Matthew from St. Paul’s. The mall excursion had completely slipped my mind. I wanted to cancel. Buying clothes seemed trivial when my aunt was my mother, my biological father was unknown, the man I thought was my father was still missing, and I now knew that I’d been sent back from the dead to work for the gods of the underworld. However, I couldn’t bring myself to douse the excited gleam in Mandy’s eyes. This was her first real date and she was a bundle of anxious enthusiasm ― a feeling I knew well.
The school day itself was uneventful. Talk over lunch consisted mostly of prom, now only two and a half weeks away. Limos needed to be ordered, dresses purchased, tuxedos rented, dinner locales reserved, and ― most important ― dates secured.
“I’m going stag,” Devon announced over the cafeteria’s attempt at chicken curry. The administration was trying to foster cultural diversity since the PTA had complained about the lack of ethnic foods being served. It was a great idea in theory, but the execution was an epic failure.
Elizabeth dropped a forkful of rice halfway to her mouth. “Really, Devon? Did hell freeze over?”
“Ha ha,” Devon intoned, rolling her eyes. “No. I told Rick it was really over this time, and I have more important things to worry about than finding a date.” She shot a meaningful look in my direction. I pretended not to notice.
“I am going to ask Matthew if all goes well tomorrow night,” Mandy declared.
“Good for you,” I told her.
“Isn’t the first date a little early to ask someone to prom?” Elizabeth asked.
“No way; time is running out,” Cynthia Zeleski said. Then she turned to me and asked, “Eel, who are you going with?”
“Kannon,” Devon answered for me, batting her eyelashes and making an absurd swooning gesture.
“How exciting!” Elizabeth squealed. “We need to finish dress shopping.”
“Um, I haven’t actually asked him yet,” I pointed out. “Besides, you already have the perfect dress.”
The admission about asking Kannon caused my cheeks to flush. Just the thought of asking him to prom made my stomach churn with nerves. I’d never asked a boy out. And he was the only person I could imagine sharing the milestone event with. Every time I heard the word “prom,” Kannon’s bright, jewel-like eyes materialized in my mind. I pictured him grinning down at me as we twirled across the wooden dance floor, his golden-brown locks styled to have that purposely messy appearance, a blood-red rose adding a splash of color to his black tuxedo. Even now, I was unable to prevent a smile from turning the corners of my mouth upwards.
Under those happy fantasies, an ugly darkness lurked. It crept into my relationship with Kannon, threatening the only silver lining to my current situation. The unwelcome thoughts swirled around in my head, an angry undercurrent of dread and despair blackening my mood and heightening my anxiousness. I found myself dreading not just asking Kannon to the dance, but actually attending it with him as well.
Of course, my unease could be attributed to the fact that Westwood and Mt. St. Mary’s hold their proms on the same night. I fully expected Kannon to cancel on Jamieson, but we hadn’t actually discussed the topic. I knew that Jamieson asked him first, and he agreed to go with her before we’d even met. Yet those facts did nothing to dampen the green flame of jealously that sparked when I considered the possibility that he might choose to honor his promise to her instead of spending the evening with me.
“Details.” Elizabeth waved off my concern with a flick of her hand. “Getting him to say yes is the easy part.”
“Do you even have a date, Liz?” Cynthia interjected.
A coy smile played over Elizabeth’s lips. “I do,” she admitted smugly. “Cooper asked me.”
“Cooper Byrd?” I asked, a little surprised. They were friends and they did flirt all the time, but I’d chalked up all of the touching and playful banter to nothing more than friendship with a superficial attraction to one another. I never thought there was any actual romantic interest.
“You called?” a voice sang behind me.
Startled, I turned as Cooper himself slid a tray down next to mine.
“We were just talking about prom,” I told him.
“Liz tell you were going together?” he asked, as he eyed his curry dubiously.
“I did.” She gave Cooper a megawatt grin that he returned.
Maybe Elizabeth had found her Prince Charming after all, I thought.
****
After an entire day without talk of family cover-ups, Egrgoroi, or the presumed dead, I was in a significantly better mood. Shopping with Mandy added to my feeling of normalcy. She asked a lot of questions about Kannon, and I found I had a lot to say, even while leaving out the strange connection he and I shared. Mandy was only too happy to chatter on about Matthew and how eager she was for their upcoming date. It seemed Kevin Mathis was nothing more than a distant memory, which was good since I’d learned he intended to ask a freshman to prom.
Once we’d found Mandy a very flattering floral sundress and wedged heels from Forever 21, we decided to grab dinner at the food court. The seating area was relatively empty, since it was near closing time. This made the two gorgeous guys sitting several tables away impossible to miss.
“I think they’re checking you out,” Mandy whispered around a mouthful of salad; she was crash dieting for the date with Matthew. I had a sneaking suspicion that Devon planted the idea in Mandy’s head, since prior to today she’d never felt the need to lose weight.
I glanced over in the direction Mandy indicated with her head, pretending I’d just noticed the two boys. One was blonde and built like a linebacker, with sleeves pushed up to reveal tattooed forearms. His surly demeanor had “tool” written all over it. The other had light brown hair, a slender build, and extremely angular features. He smiled when he talked to his companion, giving off the impression that he was friendly and easy-going.
As I discreetly catalogued the pair, the boys’ conversation came to an abrupt halt. As if they sensed my gaze, two heads turned in my direction in unison.
A chill ran the length of my spine, spreading unease to every muscle of my body. Coal black eyes locked with mine. The boy’s intense stare held such energy that the breath caught in my throat. His gaze traveled through me, as if evaluating my hidden thoughts and secret desires. Part of me wanted to sever the connection. Another part was so thoroughly captivated and drawn to the boy that it was not an option.
“I bet they’re in college,” Mandy was saying.
I nodded absently, still unable to tear my gaze from the brunette. The blonde one nudged his friend, causing him to break the invisible force binding our gazes. A flicker of disappointment tightened my chest at having lost the link, but it was quickly extinguished by the relief of being free from his pull.
“What would Kannon say if he knew you were making goo-goo eyes at another boy?” Mandy teased.
Her words sent another cold spell through my numb limbs. The way I’d been unable to break eye contact with the boy, the draw towards him conflicting with the desire to put as much distance between us as possible ― it was the same sensation I’d experienced with Kannon. The two boys sitting in the mall food court, not five tables away, were Egrgoroi. I was absolutely s
ure of it.
Whether it was because of my frantic insistence that we immediately leave or simply because Mandy was so used to people barking orders at her, I will probably never know. But Mandy complied without protest, leaving behind a mostly uneaten salad. I half-walked, half-ran to Macy’s since that was where I’d parked the Bug. Several last-minute shoppers gave me dirty looks as I carelessly stumbled by; I breezed right past them without a second glance, leaving Mandy to apologize in my wake.
Once safely locked inside my car, I realized actually running away from the two Egrgoroi boys was an overreaction. They hadn’t appeared to be much older than I was, maybe in their early twenties, and it was unlikely they meant me harm. Kannon, the only other Egrgoroi I’d met, clearly only had one type of physical contact in mind. As disconcerting as the jolts of electricity had been at first, I found them enjoyable now ― more than enjoyable if I were being honest. Still, something about the two in the food court felt wrong. The way the one had looked at me gave me the creeps even now.
“Eel, are you okay?” Mandy asked, startling me from my musing. I’d forgotten she was there for a minute.
“Yeah, I just promised my mom I would be home early tonight,” I said for lack of a better excuse for my strange behavior.
Truthfully, I had told my mother I would be home so we could talk tonight, but the longer I could delay that conversation the better. That was partially why I’d agreed to the shopping trip. I knew Mom would be sitting at the kitchen table awaiting my arrival. Miraculously, she left work at 5:30 like a normal person, a fact I knew by the seventeen text messages she’d sent telling me so. Sometimes I loathed modern technology.