Lucid, YA Paranormal Romance (Brightest Kind of Darkness Series, Book #2)

by Patrice Michelle

  When ten minutes passed without a reply from Drystan, I figured that was my response. He was done with me. My spirits sank a little as I set my phone on my nightstand. I was being honest. I appreciated his friendship and didn’t want it to disappear.

  I retrieved my grandmother’s journal from my desk drawer, then lay back in bed and flipped to the page Gran had marked with the ribbon.

  Corda and I had lunch with one of our classmates today, Erik Holtzman. I’d been in awe of the watercolor he’d painted of a raven in our class, and when I asked him how he’d painted it so vividly, he invited us to lunch so he could tell us all about it. I’ve never seen someone as dedicated to his work as Freddie is. He insisted we call him Freddie, saying that’s what all his friends call him. We learned that the reason he could draw with such detail was because he raises ravens for research. So fascinating! He’s even publishing a book about them.

  Erik Holtzman? No wonder I couldn’t find any publications when I scoured the Internet with search terms “author name Freddie and ravens”. Freddie and Erik? Hmmm, maybe it was a pen name. Then a thought occurred and I felt like smacking my forehead. I’d been so focused on the name Freddie in my searches, I didn’t think about it being a nickname. The use of Erik for his author name made total sense now. Freddie was derived from Frederick. Holding the journal, I walked over to my desk, then pulled open the bottom drawer I’d tucked Ethan’s journal in, while I continued to read. I planned to add Freddie’s author name and information to Ethan’s book.

  But to listen to Erik talk, the passion in his voice, the ravens are more like family—

  When my fingers didn’t connect with the cloth bag I expected, but paperwork instead, I immediately glanced down, my heart thumping.

  Ethan’s book was gone!

  I quickly set my grandmother’s journal on the desk. My hands shook as I squatted to search under the paperwork for Ethan’s book. Nothing.

  Frantic, my gaze jerked around the room. I knew it wasn’t in my backpack. After the attack in the library, I’d kept it in my room, hidden inside a dark green drawstring bag that had come with my laptop to protect it. Had I unknowingly set it somewhere else? I tore through my room, looking in places I might have set it: the top of my chest of drawers, inside each of the drawers, inside my nightstand drawer, on top of books on my bookshelf, under my desk, underneath my bed.

  My breathing turned rampant as I yanked open my foldable closet doors to scan the wire shelves inside. Nothing but neatly folded sweaters and jeans.

  Falling to my hands and knees, I slid my palms along the carpet under my hanging clothes just in case I’d dropped it and it had somehow gotten pushed beneath the clothes. I was just getting ready to stand when a roughness on the carpet right in front of my hanging clothes snagged across my palms.

  I frowned at the dim light in my closet, then moved to grab the tiny flashlight from my desk drawer. I returned to the closet to shine the bright penlight on the carpet.

  My throat closed when I made out a muddy footprint on the beige surface. It faced toward my bedroom, as if someone had been standing just inside my closet, looking through the closed doors. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I turned and put the toe of my shoe inside the shoeprint to compare size. It was huge, at least four sizes larger than my own.

  I gripped the tiny flashlight and sank to the floor, my trembling legs refusing to support my weight.

  Gran had been adamant that my window was open, and now I believed her.

  Someone had been in my room. Oh God, while Gran was in here! I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, thankful nothing worse had happened to Gran.

  The footprint had to be at least a size twelve. I shook my head. It couldn’t have been the guy from the library. His feet weren’t that big. They would have stuck out like clown shoes on such a small guy. Who had been in my room then? And why did he take Ethan’s journal?

  The realization that someone had been in my house and in my room freaked me out. I jumped up and ran downstairs to grab the carpet cleaner and scrub brush. I quickly sprayed the remover onto the stain on my carpet. While I scrubbed, I tried to focus, but my thoughts pinged all over the place.

  All that work gone. The loss of Ethan’s journal, combined with the fact I hadn’t heard anything from him, even after several texts, left me feeling lost. It’s like he’s slipping through my fingers, disappearing from my life. More like he’s being yanked out of my life! The spot was already gone but I continued to scrub until my fingers began to ache. I fisted my hands on my knees to stop myself before I wore a hole in the carpet. I wanted to scream my frustration, but instead I locked my jaw and ground my teeth. When my breathing began to slow, another thought occurred: what if Gran had interrupted the person’s search? Would he come back?

  I walked on shaky legs to my desk and picked up my phone. My hands trembled as I dialed the CVAS voice mail. “Hey Sally, it’s Nara,” I began, trying my best to sound calm. “If you’re still looking for someone to foster that dog, I can take him on a temporary basis. Let me know and I’ll swing by to pick him up tomorrow afternoon if that’s okay with you.” After my close call with almost getting shot, I didn’t think Mom would give me a hard time about the dog, so long as I kept him off the furniture while he was with us.

  Once I set my phone down, I pressed my lips in a thin line. Even if I’d dreamed last night, I probably wouldn’t have seen this, since Ethan’s journal didn’t show up in my dreams. When I first started working on the book, it was part of my dreams, but then it just stopped one day. The fact I couldn’t see myself working on it was part of the allure of this project. I loved the first-time experience while at the same time creating a special present for Ethan.

  I jerked my gaze around my room, scrutinizing it. If my room had been in pristine condition, it wouldn’t have taken me this long to figure out someone had been searching through it. With a burst of speed, I began a frenzied organization of every nook and cranny.

  Three hours later, I inspected my super-organized room and desk with a critical eye so I’d know exactly how to reorganize it after Patch’s morning visits. Drawers, books, music CDs, pencil and paper holders, stapler, paperclip tray—everything was stacked or placed in such a way that I’d know if they’d been moved even a millimeter. After I triple-checked that my window was locked, I tucked my grandmother’s diary into my backpack to keep it close, then fell into bed, letting sheer exhaustion override my racing mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  School dragged by in a foggy blur. Because I’d gone to bed so late, I’d only dreamed the first few hours of my day before the alarm clock rudely jerked me awake. I didn’t wake to a text from Ethan and even Patch seemed to have deserted me. I missed the bird’s crazy antics as I got dressed this morning. After the way Patch acted yesterday, dive-bombing me the way he did, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him or the other birds again.

  The only highlight of my day was that I successfully found Erik Holtzman’s website and contact information using the library computer. Before the bell rang, ending study hall, I sent Mr. Holtzman an email asking if I could interview him for a school project.

  As the end of school neared, my nerves wound tighter and tighter. I kept checking my phone, waiting for Ethan to respond, but I’d only received a voice mail from Sally confirming that she was thrilled I’d be fostering the dog, whom, she said, “I’ve affectionately named Houdini for his uncanny ability to slip his leash. He’s a wily one, Nara, just so you’re warned.”

  When the final bell rang for the day, I walked out to the parking lot in the afternoon at a clipped pace. While I slid on the peach-colored sunglasses Ethan gave me—I needed the connection after hearing nothing from Ethan all day—I left a voice mail for Sally to let her know I’d be late picking up Houdini. I’d told Ethan in my text that he had until the end of the day today. As far as I was concerned, the day ended at six thirty. When Samson drove into his driveway from work, I’d be there to ask him if he’d heard from E
than.

  My phone rang just as I hung up from leaving Sally a message.

  I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and immediately answered, my stomach fluttering. “Ethan!” I breathed out as people streamed past.

  “Hello? No, this is Frederick Holtzman. Is this Inara Collins?”

  Disappointment flitted through me, but I kept my voice upbeat. “Oh, hi, Mr. Holtzman. Yes, this is Inara. Thank you so much for getting back with me.”

  “It has been a dozen years since I published my book on ravens,” he said, sounding pleased. “But I’m always happy to hear from a raven fan. Did you find my book in your library?”

  I smiled, warming to the kindness in his raspy voice. “Actually, I heard about you from Gran…I mean, my great-aunt Corda. She and her sister, Margaret—my grandmother—met you while taking an art class at the university. Gran said you were in the process of writing your book at the time.”

  “Ah, Margaret.” His rasp softened when he said her name. “She was a pleasure to talk to. I remember her sister, Corda, being a bundle of energy. How are your grandmother and your great-aunt doing?”

  “Gran’s doing well. Unfortunately my grandmother passed away when I was a baby.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he replied in a subdued tone. “I’d planned to do a phone interview with you, but I would be honored to show Margaret’s granddaughter around my raven sanctuary and discuss the beautiful Corvus corax with you for your school project. Would you like to see it?”

  “I’d love to see your raven sanctuary!” Excitement flitted through me, temporarily overshadowing the sense of helplessness I’d felt over losing Ethan’s book. “Is this afternoon too soon?”

  Low laughter rumbled across the line. “I see you have your grandmother’s enthusiasm. This afternoon works for me.” A car beeped at me as Mr. Holtzman finished giving me directions to his house, which turned out to be thirty minutes southeast of Blue Ridge. I moved to the side and told Mr. Holtzman I’d see him in an hour.

  As soon as I hung up, I started walking again, when someone gripped my arm and yanked me to the side. As I fell against Drystan’s chest, he hissed in my ear, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  A black sports car zoomed past a couple of seconds later. I quickly pushed myself off Drystan and glanced his way. “Thanks, but honestly, the car had time to stop.”

  When his gaze narrowed, I gave a brilliant smile. “I’m glad you’re talking to me though.”

  Drystan scrubbed his hand through his messy hair and shook his head, his jaw tight. “You’re the most stubborn—” Cutting himself off, he blew out a breath, then continued, “I’m here to make a deal.”

  “A deal?” My voice squeaked. I glanced away and saw Lainey and Matt watching us from across the parking lot. Lainey smiled and gave an encouraging nod, while Matt looked like he wanted to choke me if I so much as looked crossways at Drystan. Great. Just what I needed.

  Drystan followed my line of sight and sighed. He nodded toward the back parking lot. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Since he’d already turned and walked away, I had no choice but to follow. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and slowed his steps to match mine. “No matter what you say, I feel like you don’t trust me, so I’m going to earn your trust.”

  My stomach churned with guilt. “That’s not it, Drystan—”

  He held his hand up, his expression hard. “Don’t talk, Nara. Let me finish.”

  Oh, boy. He was still angry. I nodded and clamped my lips shut.

  Once we’d reached my car, Drystan leaned against my car door and shoved his hands in his jeans once more. He stared at his black boots for so long the entire back lot was almost empty of cars. After the last car pulled out of the gravel lot, I jingled my keys to let him know I was waiting, and that he was blocking my way into my car.

  His green gaze snapped to mine. “I’m going to share, but only if you promise me something in return.”

  “I didn’t ask you, Drystan—”

  “I’m not asking to know what your power is, though I hope you’ll tell me eventually. Instead, I just want your promise you’ll cooperate.”

  “Cooperate?”

  He nodded, squinting against the afternoon sun. “Yeah. It has nothing to do with your ability.”

  Relief flitted through me, yet I couldn’t help but squirm at his open-ended request. What did he want me to cooperate about? At least he wasn’t insisting I tell him about my power. I straightened my shoulders. “Okay.”

  Drystan gave a curt nod. “My ability is psychometry.”

  “I’ve never heard the term,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Remember when I found Lochlan, as you put it, ‘pretty easily’?”

  I nodded.

  He set his mouth in a thin line. “And you asked how I knew exactly where to look for that lost microfiche you were looking for?”

  I kept quiet, waiting for him to tell me the rest.

  Drystan held his hand out, palm up. “When I touch something, either worn by or related to what I’m looking for, I can locate what I’m seeking.”

  I remembered him rubbing Lochlan’s collar intently with his thumbs. “So that’s what you were doing when you held Loch’s collar? You were trying to locate him by touching something of his?”

  Drystan nodded. “It’s easier with living things like people and animals. They leave residual energy behind, which I’m able to zero in on when I hold a personal item. With inanimate objects, if I concentrate hard enough I can find them too. I just have to have something that directly ties them together, something I can focus on. Like I did with the call number you’d written on that piece of paper. If it’s specifically related to the object I’m looking for, it can act like a radar, giving off a kind of low grade vibe that will allow me to find its location.”

  “Wow! That power’s amazing,” I said as I set my heavy backpack down on the ground, then leaned against my car beside him.

  Drystan gave a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah, an odd, but handy ability from time to time.”

  Turning toward me, he rested his elbow on the roof. “Now for your promise.”

  “Promise?” I gulped.

  He nodded. “Give me one month. I’d like more time, but regardless, the sooner we start the better.”

  “Start?”

  A wolfish smile tilted his lips. “Your training.”

  “Training for what?” I asked, stiffening.

  “I’m going to train you to defend yourself, with the added benefit of you learning how to get the ’ell away in case you’re outmatched.”

  “I don’t have time to train,” I began, spreading my arms wide. “Soccer will be starting up soon, and I volunteer at CVAS. Why do you want to train me anyway?”

  Drystan folded his arms and set his mouth at a stubborn slant. “You were attacked in the library, and I’m pretty sure that bullet was meant for you, not Lainey. One event I can ignore as random, but two?” He paused and shook his head. “Since you won’t tell me what’s going on with you, you’ve just promised to let me teach you how to protect yourself.”

  He tricked me! I started to shake my head, but before I could utter a word, Drystan moved with lightning speed and wrapped his arm around my neck. Hauling me back against his chest, he clamped his other arm around my stomach in a vise hold. “Go ahead, Nara,” he breathed in my ear, his accent heavy with his anger. “Get out of this choke hold and I’ll let you out of our deal.”

  Somewhere I heard ravens making raaaaack sounds in the trees, but they weren’t anywhere in sight. Where were their dive-bombing efforts when I needed them? Fickle birds!

  “Let me go!” I bit out and pulled against his muscular arm. I did everything I could to shrug out of his hold, but he didn’t move. At all. God, Lainey was right, he felt like one big muscle.

  His arm held me in such a way that my jaw was locked tight, my neck craned back. I could barely open my mouth, let alo
ne get a good bite in. When I tried to stomp his toe, he moved his foot out of the way. “I can do this all day,” he murmured in my ear.

  “Let me go now, Drystan!” I hissed through my teeth.

  The world spun and I was facing him once more as if he’d never touched me. Determination lined his face. “We’ll start tomorrow morning. Meet me at Stonehaven Park at nine.”

  I gaped. “It’ll be freezing that early.”

  “Better dress in layers then,” he said with a shrug. “On weekend days we’ll meet early.”

  “This is crazy. I didn’t agree to this,” I mumbled.

  “A deal’s a deal, Nara. During the week, we’ll meet right after school. Once soccer starts up, we’ll meet after practice is over.”

  “Wait? You want to train every day? No way.” What would Ethan think? He was definitely protective, but was he the jealous type? He probably wouldn’t be happy, but then he wouldn’t want me not to be able to protect myself while he’s not here either. Ethan always cared about my safety. “How about two days a week?”

  Drystan set his jaw. “Five.”

  “Three.”

  “Four.” He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Nine a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

  As I watched him stroll away like our exchange had never happened, I curled my hands into fists, my heart thumping at a rapid rate. Why was he doing this?

  Once he was out of sight, a flapping sound distracted me as Patch and a couple of his buddies flew in, landing on the roof of my car. I rolled my eyes, grumbling, “Now you show up? Traitors!”

  Patch stepped forward and made a deep groooooock sound, the other birds following suit. I shook my finger at them. “After the way you acted yesterday, and then your desertion while Drystan was giving me a hard time—I heard you in the trees!—no kibble for any of you.”

  The other birds seemed to understand my scolding, because they immediately took off, flying back to their perches in the trees.

  But not Patch. He just made another groooooock sound and continued to walk around on my car, nonplussed. Tilting his head, he eyed me for a second, then bobbed his head up and down. Yesterday he was pecking at me, and today he’s comical. “Moody bird,” I mumbled just as my phone pinged with a text.