by J. Meyers
“He likes you.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a choice he’s made. It doesn’t come from any true feelings. It comes from my healing.”
Luke turned to look at her. “Even if that were completely true—and I don’t think it is—if you gave him a chance, he would like you just for you. It would become his choice.”
Sera shook her head, her lips tight.
“That’s true of friends, too. You could have more friends than anyone if you wanted them. If you let them in. You could be the most popular girl in school.”
“But they wouldn’t really be my friends. They wouldn’t have a conscious choice. I don’t want followers.”
“They would if you gave them time. If you let them get to know you.”
“I don’t want to lie to anyone else,” she said, and Luke threw his hands in the air. “Besides, I’m good with the friends I have.”
“You mean me, Fey, and Quinn?”
Sera nodded. “All I need.”
“Speaking of Fey, where is she?” Luke searched the throng of students still exiting the buildings.
A prickly feeling started between Sera’s shoulder blades. Someone was watching her. Her eyes scoured the parking lot.
There. Beyond Josh’s car, leaning against a blue, two-door, beat-up old car. He was tall, had dark red hair down almost to his shoulders and long muscular arms like a basketball player.
He was remarkable, to put it mildly.
He wore a pair of faded Levi’s and an old black rock concert t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. She was sure he didn’t go to their school—she’d never seen him before—though he looked like he could easily have been a senior.
He was looking right at her, and smiled wide when their eyes met. Almost as if he’d been waiting for her. Something fluttered in her chest, her face felt suddenly warm. She didn’t smile back.
“Who’s that?” She indicated with her head and Luke turned to look.
“By the crappy blue car?”
“Yeah.”
“No idea.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight as he studied the stranger. He just lounged there, openly watching them. There was something kind of familiar about him. And Luke could sense the guy—felt as if he could even pick him out of a crowd. He was aware of the guy’s presence. Could actually feel it. It was bizarre. He had that ability with only a few people—Sera most strongly—but he knew them all well. It was unsettling to have this with a stranger.
It didn’t help that his sense of impending doom was still with him, that he felt hard-wired into everything around him. Maybe that explained his extra perception of the stranger. He could feel the slight wind ruffling individual hairs on his head, could make out the distinctly different scents of every person in the parking lot. The world, he thought, would smell a lot better if people would lay off the perfume.
He was about to tell Sera as much, when Luke saw him again in his mind.
Luke stood in the room where he had watched Sera die. The monstrously beautiful woman laughed as she raked her long sharp fingernails down the guy’s face. Blood oozed from the cuts. She leaned in close to him, inhaled the scent and let out a slight moan of pleasure. She slowly, gently licked the blood from his face. Luke was too far away, he couldn’t reach out to help him. The guy looked at him, desperation and deep fear on his face.
Luke gasped, suddenly back in the parking lot again. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, and sweat covered his body. Sera turned toward him quickly. She searched his face.
“You okay?”
He looked at her, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus and his mind to return to the present. He looked around—the world had dimmed and muted—all his senses back to normal. Then he glanced over at the guy again. Still there. Still watching. Luke heard Sera’s words in his head again—You okay?—and nodded.
“You don’t look it,” she said. “Did you just have a—”
“I’m fine.” He cut her off before she could ask the question. Before he’d be forced to tell her or lie. “I’m just…” Just what? He shook his head, trying to regain at least the appearance of fine. From the look on Sera’s face, he had not succeeded. “Just…nothing. It’s nothing. Are we going to Muddy’s?”
“As soon as Fey comes out.” Sera stared at him like she knew he wasn’t telling her something. That was definitely, Luke thought, one of the drawbacks to having a twin—you couldn’t hide anything.
He nodded in the direction of the stranger staring at them. “That guy?”
“Yeah?” She looked wary, like she knew he was deliberately trying to distract her.
“Your new boyfriend.”
She rolled her eyes and gently nudged him with her elbow. “We need to find you a new joke.”
But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Luke knew they were true. It had never been true before, it had always been a joke. But this time, he felt it.
And though he did not have a bad feeling about the guy himself, this future did not feel good.
SEVEN
It’s them, Marc thought as he watched the pair across the parking lot. It had to be them. They were obviously related—he could see it in their smiles, their eyes—and looked the same age. There was also an almost palpable connection between the two of them in the way they interacted. They moved and talked in sync. It was different from everyone else on the school grounds.
And there was something else about them—something intangible. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it. Feel them. Their presence. Almost as if he recognized them or knew them already.
It was them.
At last.
He’d already known he was in the right place. He’d heard a lot of talk about a woman’s remarkable recovery since he’d gotten into town a few nights ago: in the diner, the gas station, as he checked in at the motel. Man, this place was like a small town, which he thoroughly appreciated. Everybody seemed to know about everybody else. It made his job that much easier. Figuring out which local high school was home to brother and sister twins was cake. And now he was looking right at them.
Marc focused on the other guy who’d borrowed the notebook from the sister. He was sitting inside his well-worn silver Civic, shuffling through some papers, his head bowed down. Marc tuned in to the slight hum in his mind and zeroed in. He opened his mind and reached out.
Found him.
…catch up on chem while I’m at the hospital. I didn’t miss much. So glad Sera takes good notes…
Marc watched him flip through the notebook he’d gotten from the sister. Sera. Her name was Sera. He smirked. Sometimes it was so easy. Now all he had to do was tap into Sera’s thoughts to confirm she’s one of them and then turn them in. He could be out of here and free again within the week.
…soccer practice first. Then dinner with Mom. Can’t wait for her to come home. Oh, I forgot to call Mrs. Brandt back about dinners…
Marc let go of the thoughts. He was of no more use. He needed Sera and her brother.
But there was a slight problem—he hadn’t been able to hear their thoughts. He should have been able to do it easily—they’d been well within range. But even more troublesome was that he hadn’t been able to hear the thoughts of anyone near them. He’d tried, especially while this guy had been talking to Sera. As he’d walked back toward Marc and away from them, the thoughts had seemed to suddenly turn back on, as if they’d been muted.
That was a first.
It had to be them.
He’d heard about them when he was searching New York City. He’d spent every morning getting his caffeine quota filled at Mocha Café just off Central Park. It was well lit and the chairs were hard so customers wouldn’t get too comfortable there. But Marc found it a great place to hang out and listen. He’d spent time living in his car—hard chairs weren’t going to put him off. Plus the coffee was stellar.
A week ago he’d overheard a man in a business suit talking about a recen
t trip to Vermont. As the haze of sleepiness eased into caffeinated alertness, Marc tapped into the guy’s thoughts about that trip.
The guy was talking about a hike up Mt. Mansfield, but his thoughts focused on a strange incident. One that he didn’t tell his friends about. He’d fallen and injured his knee on the way down. It was bad enough that he hadn’t been able to walk. As he was trying to figure out how he was going to get down the mountain, a couple of teens stopped to help. A boy and a girl. When they’d helped him up, he’d started to feel better, and the pain in his knee had ebbed away until it was gone. A few steps and his knee was fine. In fact, it felt better than it had in years. He’d walked down on his own, and hadn’t had any knee problems since.
The man couldn’t make sense of it even now. That knee had given him trouble for years, but now it felt perfectly fine. There was a small part of him that wondered if it had been them—those kids, if they’d somehow healed him—even though he knew it was crazy to even think that. But he’d felt a strange warmth spread through his body at their touch, and it had faded away when they let go. The whole experience had been so odd. Strange enough that he wasn’t sharing it with his friends.
Marc gasped as he was swallowing—it was them, he’d actually found them—and shot to his feet. Coughing, spewing coffee down the front of his brown t-shirt, he fought for breath as his throat closed and his lungs protested. He drew in a loud, tight wheeze of a breath when he finally could, then took a drink of water. The muscles in his throat released and he could breathe again.
When he looked up, the businessman and his friends were gone.
He ran outside, looked up and down the street for them, opened his mind up to find the man’s distinct thoughts again, but they were gone. Out of range. He could have used more information, could have listened further for more details. But he grinned suddenly, as realization hit, and felt like jumping around like a squealing toddler in a kiddie pool.
It was them.
He knew it was them. He’d finally found them after months of trespassing into people’s heads, fingering their thoughts. Using his gift.
Curse.
Whatever.
There had always been voices—thoughts—he could hear. For as long as he could remember. The slight hum of people’s thoughts in the background of his mind was normal for him—nothing he would pay attention to, nothing standing out. When he wanted to know what someone was thinking, he could tune in to that one person. Like a radio, each individual was a different frequency in his mind. A little focus and he was in.
Truth be told, he’d used it to his advantage. Usually a little foray into a girl’s mind to find out what would impress her, make her happy, make her want him. Man, he got to be good at that. Very good. If a girl was worrying about her new haircut, he’d compliment her on it. If she was berating herself for saying something stupid, he’d tell her how intelligent she was. It was so easy. And so effective. Whatever the worry, all it took was a small comment to make her feel good and he was in.
It had seemed like a gift.
Once.
Two years ago something had changed. He didn’t know what had happened or when exactly it had started because he hadn’t even noticed it at first. It had snuck up on him. Bit by bit he had to work harder—focus more intensely—to keep the background thoughts to a hum. Random thoughts would stand out loud in his mind whenever he let down his guard. It was only after he found himself struggling continually to keep people’s thoughts out of his head that he realized something was wrong.
And then one day he couldn’t keep them out. His mind was overrun by everyone’s thoughts all at the same time. As if his radio was tuned to every station simultaneously. With the volume up loud.
He couldn’t make sense of what anyone said to him—couldn’t filter out their words from the overwhelming racket in his head. And with it came pain. Deep, debilitating pain. Migraines like he’d never known. A constant deep ache, sharpened with every sound, every shard of light, every small movement of his eyes. And vomiting.
The doctors were useless. Every test came back negative. It was all in his head, they said. Well, yeah, it was. But not in the way they meant. He couldn’t tell them what was really going on. He could already hear their skeptical thoughts about the migraines. They’d never have believed him about the voices, the thoughts he could hear. Besides, he’d already learned that lesson. The hard way. He couldn’t tell anyone the truth.
So on paper he was fine.
In reality he was tortured.
And that was how they’d found him. The Shadows.
He had been curled up as tight as possible, whimpering from the pain and noise wracking his head. They’d whispered to him from their dark corner, offering relief. He hadn’t wondered how the hell they’d gotten into his home, what they were doing in his bedroom. He hadn’t had the good sense to be scared. He hadn’t even wondered how he was able to hear their words through all the noise in his mind. He’d just forced his arm to reach out and open up his hand.
He would have done anything to make it stop.
He’d swallowed the pill dry. He didn’t care. He’d have choked it down if he had to. And it was like a miracle. The pain dulled and stopped, the voices got softer until they were only a hum, as if someone had simply turned the volume dial in his mind to low. A shaky breath and his body was able to slowly uncurl, his muscles unclench. A shower and some food—the first he’d been able to keep down in days—and he’d felt like himself again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
And as easily as that he was addicted.
Later, they’d called out to him from the darkness of the woods with a voice that shivered his soul. He couldn’t make out anything but the darkest, most impenetrable black he’d ever seen and glowing orange eyes. They were like living, breathing shadows, and for lack of another name that’s what he’d called them. The Shadows.
They offered him a deal. Medicine to treat his problem in exchange for him using his gift to find someone. Two someones. Once they were found, a cure.
If he’d known then what he would be getting himself into, would he have taken the Shadows’ offering? Would he have been strong enough to refuse? Probably not, if he was being completely honest. The only alternative would have been to kill himself. And he’d reached the point of considering that.
But he had that pesky innate will to survive.
He didn’t know why the Shadows wanted the brother and sister, but if he allowed himself to dwell on it too long he knew in his gut that finding them meant their deaths.
So he didn’t allow himself to think about it.
He couldn’t. Especially as he stood there looking at Sera across the parking lot, leaning against her car, talking with her brother. They looked normal and nice, the two of them. Why would the Shadows want them? He didn’t get it.
He had listened to people’s thoughts around the parking lot. Not one person had any thread of a thought about either of them healing.
…wearing flip-flops at this time of year. It’s ridiculous.
Marc flinched now. Jolted back to reality as unwanted thoughts crashed into his mind.
…such a jerk. Look at him…wonder if she knows…
The medicine was wearing off—he had to get back to his motel room for more, pronto. He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he walked around to the driver’s side of his car, opened the door and got in. A searing sensation like a hot poker began to push its way into his brain from the right side of his head. The headaches were getting worse each time the medicine wore off. Why hadn’t he put the bottle in his car? Idiot.
He pulled out of the parking lot, wincing as the pain flared, and headed for the motel. Despite the pain, he smiled. He knew where they were, now. And he knew it was them.
He could almost taste his freedom.
EIGHT
Fey stared at the blur that was the streets of Burlington as they headed downtown to Muddy Waters, their favorite coffee shop. She couldn’t concen
trate on Sera and Luke’s banter up front.
It was coming. Soon. She could feel it. Her people had been preparing for this for millennia—but most ardently for the past seventeen years as they had kept the existence of these prophesied twins a secret. Intricate glamours had been layered for years to keep their identities unknown to those who would harm them.
When she’d taken Sera and Luke on as infants, Fey had been on constant vigil. She’d done her job and done it well. Kept them safe and hidden in plain sight. That’s what she was there for. But as they’d grown and the glamours had proven effective, she’d relaxed. Enjoyed herself more. Let herself become emotionally attached to them both.
And now? She glanced at them as they sat in the front seat and teased each other. Now she loved these two people like no others. These Gifteds who knew nothing about who they really were. Who belonged to this world and the Realm. Who had no idea what the future held for them.
A future that was fast approaching.
A shimmer caught her eye, and she turned back to see who or what they’d passed. Whoever it was had already disappeared by the time she looked. Was it just here or were there more of them out during the day everywhere? She shook her head and turned her attention back to her charges and their regular afternoon excursion.
Driving down Main Street, the lake spread out at the bottom of the long hill and the heart of the city lay to the left, cobblestoned and cut off from traffic. Church Street. Most everything was on Church Street. The coffee house was just off it.
Sera parked the car and they started walking the two blocks down Main Street.
“It’s amazing what happened with Josh’s mom, isn’t it?” Fey looked across Luke to Sera.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “We seem to have more than our fair share of miracles in this town, don’t you think?” He grinned.
“Miracles?” Sera said, a dubious look on her face. Then she glared at Luke.