She'd been sitting at the breakfast table, upset because she couldn't find her school shirt for School Spirit Day. All of her friends would be wearing theirs and she’d be mortified to stand out by not having hers.
Her mother had hugged her. "It's only a shirt, baby. I'll look for it while you're at school and you'll have it for the next spirit day."
"But Mom, I'll stand out. They'll make fun of me," she'd wailed, terrified that standing out would make her the center of the other kids’ ridicule. "I wish I could disappear."
Her mother had smiled down at her and wiped the tears from her face. She closed her eyes, imagining herself fading from her mother’s sight. The back of her head pulsed as tiny lines flashed behind her eyelids. Without thinking, she’d reached out and rearranged the tiny pattern of lights, her mind filling with relief. She’d opened her eyes to see her mother still reaching toward her, as if only half a second had passed. Then her mother’s face had paled. She'd squeezed Camille's arm under one hand while patting her face under the other. "Cam? Camille? Say something to me, honey."
Her father had come running. "What's wrong?"
"Mom?" She looked down at herself, alarmed at the fear in their faces.
Her mother spoke. "She's here. I can feel her and I can hear her, but I can't see her. Can you see her?"
She yelled, trying to make the pulsing at the back of her head stop. "Mom, I'm right here. See? I'm right here."
Her mother pulled Camille into her arms. "Thank God."
"Ron, tell me you saw that," her mother asked, voice shaking.
He stared at his daughter. "Cam, can you do that again?"
"Do what, Daddy?"
"You were invisible, baby. We could hear you," he glanced at her mother, "and we could feel you, but we couldn't see you."
A rushing sound filled her ears. "I was right here the whole time, Daddy. I didn't disappear."
"Right before you vanished, you said you wanted to disappear. Do you remember what you were thinking? How you felt?"
She reached a hand to touch the back of her head. "Mommy, what's wrong with me?"
Her mother pulled her in close. "It's okay, baby. Maybe you should stay home today. You won't have to worry about not having your shirt and I can make sure it doesn't happen again over the weekend."
Her entire life changed that day. Every time she imagined being some sort of side show freak, the lines appeared behind her eyes and she vanished from sight. Her parents pulled her from public school and homeschooled her.
They became obsessed with learning about the brain and how it worked. The first time she’d seen an image of the eye and the many tiny nerves in it, she’d known that was what she saw when she Shined. She’d learned that it was her occipital lobe that pulsed. With this knowledge she’d learned to control her ability, though she never forgot the look of fear in her parents’ eyes that first time. Had they been afraid of her or for her? They never said, though they did everything to protect her.
She’d give anything to have them back. Loving her and loving each other.
She entered her home and flipped the kitchen light switch. She froze. Her possessions lay strewn across the floor, furniture upturned, drawers pulled open. Tears filled her eyes at the sight of shattered pictures frames and photos crumpled on the floor.
She heard something upstairs. Shine, Camille!
She closed her eyes and saw two groups of tiny lines on the backs of her eyelids. A pulsing began at the back of her head. The lines formed the loose shape of two human eyes and each group led to a larger thicker line that she now knew was the optic nerve. She followed tiny specs of pulsing light through each optic nerve until they intersected at the optic chiasm, then she stopped the tiny patterns of light. Manipulating the patterns, she pictured the house without her in it. She sent the command out like a radio tower broadcasting a signal. It took only a second.
She double-tapped the emergency icon on her tablet, then tiptoed to the stairs. Hearing nothing, she eased up the stairs, straining to see into the darkened hallway. A beam of light flashed inside her parents’ room. She caught her breath. That door, always tightly sealed, kept the last traces of her parents’ scents from fading. Her heart pounded as she slid her feet across the carpet, avoiding the weak places in the hallway, until she could see inside.
A shadow moved to the door. "Gandhi’s teeth, she’s in the house." The shadow turned back into the room. "We have to go. Now."
"We haven't found it yet," a female voice muttered.
"She'll have noticed the mess by now. We have to go."
The female's shadow joined the other. "That file is here somewhere. The Reverend won't be happy if we don't find it."
Flashing lights lit the windows at the front of the house. "We can't try again if we're sitting in jail. Let's go."
The two shadows disappeared into her parents’ room, reappearing in front of the balcony doors. Camille stepped into the room as they opened the door. Her foot collided with something hard on the floor. The intruders swung their flashlight beams across the room, passing over her.
“Someone's in here.”
“You'd have seen her if she'd come up the stairs. Stop being a nervous ninny and let's go.”
The first shadow slipped out the patio doors.
Camille reached for the object she’d kicked, her father's shoe, and hurled it at the second intruder. It hit him in the back of the head and he lurched out the door.
"What the--" he looked back over his shoulder.
The other shadow pulled him up. "You're a damned klutz, Drew. Let's get out of here."
The male intruder yanked his arm from his partner's grasp and looked back toward the room, his narrow gaze lit by moonlight. Camille memorized the square jaw, broken nose, and military haircut. She'd know that face if she ever saw it again. She stepped up to the railing to watch them disappear into the trees behind her home.
Someone, most likely the Sheriff, banged on her front door. She stilled her Shine as she ran down the stairs to let him in. The intruders hadn’t found what they were looking for. Determination made her straighten her shoulders. She’d find it before they returned.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Camille dragged a finger through the dust that lay over every surface of her home. All the technology in the world and the police still used this antiquated method of gathering fingerprints.
Yawning, she rubbed her forehead while reaching for the broom. She'd been up all night, but she didn't bother lying down. She wouldn't be able to sleep while her home looked like this. Sighing, she swept the dust, papers, and glass into a pile in the center of the living room's hard wood floors then pushed furniture back into place.
When the great room and kitchen looked as they should, she went into her father's personal library and surveyed the torn books and overturned furniture. Her father had loved collecting rare books and had been responsible for her love for them as well. She reached for her father's favorite, To Kill a Mockingbird, and tenderly swept the dust from its cover. He'd often compared the treatment of Shines to that of Tom Robinson, guilty until proven innocent. Had he lived to see the outcome of the Seattle tragedy, he'd have given her his “I told you so” look.
She thanked God that her parents hadn't taken her to a doctor when her Shine appeared. Lack of documentation kept her safe from those like the SSS who targeted Shines, and the authorities who detained Shines.
She heaved the overturned desk and picked up the large three-tiered trophy her father and mother won as a team in an adult bowling league. It had held the place of honor on the mantle of the office fireplace, the only trophy her father ever won. Now it lay crushed, the rods holding it together wrenched from the wooden base.
She gently gathered the pieces of the trophy into her arms. She held her breath, afraid to drop anything and damage the trophy further. She grabbed two sizes of nut drivers, a handful of washers, extra nuts, and a hammer then returned to the kitchen. She wouldn't allow the intruders to win by
leaving the trophy a broken mess.
She used the driver to remove the nuts and pulled the rods from the base. She pressed the MDF wood into place around the holes and twisted a nut onto the first rod, followed by a washer. She threaded that rod back through its hole and put a second washer and nut on, leaving it loose until she could do the same with the other two. Reaching for the second rod, she straightened the shiny gold columns around the rods.
She reached her fingers into the second column for its rod and her fingers slipped over a cold, plastic lump. She pulled the column toward her and looked inside. Fingers shaking, she reached inside and pulled out a small, black thumb drive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The thumb drive burned a hole in Camille’s pocket as she knocked on Jenni's door. Dr. Pham, her friend's father, opened the door and waved her in.
"Camille," he said, a concerned frown on his face. "Jenni told me about the break-in. I'm glad you weren't harmed."
"Thank you for allowing me to stay here tonight, Dr. Pham."
He waved away her thanks. "You’re like a daughter to me and you’re welcome any time."
Jenni appeared at the top of the stairs. She smiled at Dr. Pham as he bowed and disappeared into the house. She followed Jenni to her room. Her heart pounded as she slipped her hand into her pocket and closed it around the thumb drive
Jenni threw her arms around her. "I'm glad you're alright. I can't believe you walked in on the intruders. You could have been hurt or worse."
She held the thumb drive up. "I know what they're after."
She told Jenni about sneaking upstairs and overhearing the intruders talking about a file.
Jenni's eyes narrowed. "Maybe we should just destroy it."
"What if there’s proof that my dad is innocent?"
Jenni eyed the thumb drive warily. "All right. But it feels like a bad idea."
Camille pulled out her tablet and stuck the thumb drive into the port. She tapped to open the file that appeared on the screen. A security box appeared.
"Razor. It needs a password."
"Well, what password would your father have used?”
Her thoughts raced in circles. Her father had been an architect working for A New Beginning Church, a mega church with its main base in Oklahoma City. Her father's office had been located at the Clinton branch located about twenty-five minutes northeast of Sentinel. He'd been one of a team of architects responsible for the current design used for the new branches being built around the United States. His area of expertise had been the kids’ section of the church. He'd been proud that his work had been enjoyed by children from all over.
Also the Clinton branch's resident computer tech, he’d been responsible for handling the minor issues the branch might have and contacting the IT department at the main office in Oklahoma City when bigger issues arose.
He'd been terrible at handling money, believing that you couldn't take it with you when you died and so you might as well use it to help others. It had been the only subject over which he and her mother had argued and was the reason she now had to sell.
She typed in her name.
WRONG PASSWORD
She typed her mother's name.
WRONG PASSWORD
She tried a half dozen others, with no success. She slammed her hand against the tablet. "I have no idea what it could be."
Jenni heaved a relieved sigh. "Maybe it's better this way. If you don't know what information is on it, the people who want it will leave you alone."
"My father left it for me to find." She tossed it on the bed. "I need a safe place to hide it until I can figure out the password."
Jenni picked it up and sat on the bed beside her. "It's too bad you can't use your Shine to hide anything or anyone but yourself. Then it'd be safe anywhere."
She'd never actually tried to hide anything other than herself. Picturing Jenni's room and the two of them sitting in it, she focused on the thumb drive and Shined.
"Razor." Her friend's breathless voice broke the silence.
Heart pounding, she focused on her friend.
Jenni glanced up at her, eyes wide. "I can still feel it there, but I can't see it." She looked back down at her hand. "There's not even a shadow to give it away."
Camille peered closer. "I can only affect what those in range of my power see or perceive with their eyes. Someone can still feel and hear me. It appears it’s the same with inanimate objects."
A thoughtful look crossed Jenni's face as she laid the thumb drive on the bed. "If you can do this, how much more can you do?"
Camille scowled. “No. What if I try to use my power on you and I hurt you like I did Gary?”
Jenni rolled her eyes. “You didn’t hurt the big idiot. That aneurism was just waiting for the right stress to push it over the edge. All you did was not listen to his lies. Don’t let him chainmail you again, Cam.”
She wiped her damp palms on the legs of her jeans. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you too.”
Jenni placed her hands on Camille’s shoulders. “You’ve used your power on me and others many times since it manifested. Was anyone else ever hurt? Ever?”
Her friend was right. She wouldn’t let Gary’s poison taint her use of this gift she’d been given.
She smiled. "Want to see if you can walk by your father without him seeing you?"
Jenni laughed. "Rock and Razor."
CHAPTER NINE
Camille stared into her glass while Jenni and Michael made goo goo eyes with each other on the dance floor. The song, slow, romantic, and exactly opposite of her mood, made her want to stuff cotton in her ears. The thumb drive hung from a chain around her neck. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of the password.
Camille's excitement at being able to make her, Jenni, and the thumb drive disappear had soon dimmed as she'd returned to trying to think of the thumb drive's password earlier that day. Jenni, tired of an afternoon wasted thinking up every possible password to do with Camille's father, insisted they needed to clear their heads and go out.
So here they were, again, at Smokey's Pub. Michael had been waiting, of course. Camille rolled her eyes and finished her drink before standing and pushing through the crowd toward the ladies room. Upon seeing the long line, she abruptly switched directions and collided with a hard, wide chest.
"Woah there, careful," a husky voice rumbled from deep in the chest under the palms of her hands.
Her face warming, Camille looked up and met twinkling pale blue eyes set in the most handsome face she'd ever seen. "Sorry. I saw the long line for the ladies room and decided I didn't need to go that bad," she babbled, her face getting hotter.
He smiled and leaned closer, his shaggy blond curls sweeping into his eyes. "Sorry, but I think you owe me a drink."
Camille tore her gaze from his and looked dumbly at his hands and then the floor. "What do you mean?"
He pulled her chin up so that she was forced to meet his mesmerizing gaze again. “Well, if I'd had one, you would have spilled it on me and I would have had a reason to enjoy your company longer. So now I'm just going to pretend I did and correct that oversight."
Camille smiled. "Is that right?"
He widened his eyes and nodded his head in his best little boy interpretation. "Yes, ma'am."
Camille laughed at his exaggerated southern accent, charmed by his old world manners as he swept his arm toward the bar and held out his elbow to escort her. "So tell me, pretty lady, what brings you to Smokey's Pub, other than God's plan that we meet?"
She shook her head and climbed on the bar stool he indicated, blushing under the focus of his attention. "I'm here with friends." She turned toward the dance floor and pointed to Jenni and Michael.
"From the way Saunders is looking at your girlfriend, I'd say you're a bit of a third wheel, which works out just perfect for me," he said, a roguish grin on his face.
Camille thought she'd never blushed so much in her life as she lowered her gaze. He made h
er feel awkward and tongue tied, as if she were still in high school.
Camille held out her hand. "I'm Camille Leon."
His smile slipped and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. She lifted an eyebrow and his smile returned as he took hold of her hand, turned it, and kissed her knuckles. He held her gaze and heat spread through her body with the press of his warm lips. "It's nice to meet you, Camille. I'm Jeremy."
Camille started to ask what was wrong, but Jeremy pulled her onto the dance floor. The feel of his hard body pressed against hers scattered her thoughts. The slow song no longer grated on her nerves, but made her think of his lips. Would they feel as soft as they had on her knuckles? Camille couldn't believe she was thinking this way about someone she'd just met. His mouth lifted in a smile and she realized she was staring and he knew it. Her gaze jumped up to meet laughing blue eyes. His smile melted. His eyes dropped and she darted out her tongue to wet her lips.
He leaned toward her and she froze, unable to pull away.
A cool hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, the trance he cast over her broken. Jenni and Michael stood next to them, curiosity in both their gazes. "Would you like to bring your new friend over to sit with us, Cam?”
Camille flushed again and her friend's eyes widened. "Jeremy, this is Jenni Pham and you know Michael Saunders."
Michael held his hand out. "It's been a long time, Walker."
Jeremy flinched and glanced toward Camille as she stiffened and her jaw dropped. "Walker? Jeremy Walker? As in George Walker's grandson? Gary Walker’s absent older brother?" Camille pulled away, berating herself for being seven kinds of fool. "You're good Mr. Walker. You almost had me." She met his narrowed eyes with an icy glare. "No, Jenni, I don't think my new 'friend' will be sitting with us."
Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1) Page 47