“Why’d you do that back there? With the cop?” Morgan asked.
His eyebrows pulled together. “I wanted to show you what we can do. What you can do.”
“Yeah, but there had to be an easier way to do it,” she pressed. “You didn’t need to humiliate that man.”
Kellen approached, placing his hand on the small of Morgan’s back and guiding her toward the restaurant. “What does it matter what Tesin did to him? He’s common.”
“So?”
“So, they’re not like us. They’re inferior. And yet, somehow, they’ve managed to keep the Veneret hiding in the shadows for centuries. Don’t think they wouldn’t do worse to us if they realized what we could do.” When they reached the door, Kellen pressed it open and allowed Morgan to enter before him.
What met Morgan’s eyes when she entered was not what she expected. The inside of the building didn’t look like restaurant at all—at least no restaurant Morgan had ever been to. Everything was bright and white or silver—the walls, the tables, the couches, the curtains. Four people approached them as the door closed behind them: three women and a man. Each one took one of them by the hand and led them to an unoccupied set of couches.
“They’re common,” Wen said, anticipating a question Morgan wasn’t aware she wanted to ask. “Employees, you might say.”
Morgan sat and the man who had led her over sat beside her, busying himself at smoothing her long, red hair. He started at the crown of her head and ran his fingers through to the ends, all the way down her back. Alarmed, she looked at Wen. “Employed to do what?”
Kellen laughed. “Nothing untoward.” He shrugged, running a long finger down the side of his escort’s face, a smile curling his lips. “Not necessarily, anyway.”
Morgan allowed herself to take in the entirety of the room. It seemed as if everyone there had a person attending to him or her the way these four people were attending to Morgan and her group. There was one thing conspicuously missing, however.
“Where’s all the food?”
Kellen laughed again, and the girl beside him echoed the sound. “The food’s right here,” he said, trailing his fingers down the girl’s arm. “Finest American cuisine.”
Morgan’s stomach clenched at the implication. Her eyes went to the necks of the common people attending to them, but she saw no signs of trauma there. “You mean—you’re… you’re…”
Kellen, Tesin, and Wen exchanged glances before laughing. Their attendants laughed too, their voices hollow and devoid of humor.
Wen shook his head. “No. I mean, the whole vampire mythology probably has Veneret origins, but we don’t suck people’s blood.”
“See, the common have an energy to them,” Kellen said, picking up the story. “It’s like the energy the Veneret have, but not. They don’t have any abilities, so they can’t use it. And it doesn’t hurt them if it’s taken away.” As if to demonstrate, Kellen placed a hand at the back of his escort’s neck. Morgan didn’t need any sort of special ability to realize that he was siphoning the girl’s energy, as he’d called it: She suddenly went blank, her eyes unfocused, her lips slightly parted. Kellen’s head tipped back and his body writhed slightly, a faint smile gracing his lips.
Morgan couldn’t watch anymore. She pressed herself to her feet, fighting a twisting sensation in her stomach. “I need to leave.”
Tesin and Wen were on their feet immediately. When Kellen didn’t move, Wen gave him a gentle kick to the shin.
Morgan didn’t wait; she jogged to the restaurant’s door and slowed to a walk only when she reached the parking lot.
Wen was the first to catch up to her. He kept pace with her as she made her way toward the car. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
“Understatement.”
“I told Kellen it was a bad idea to take you here first thing, but…” He sighed, catching her by the elbow and pulling her to a stop. “Morgan, what Kellen did in there—it’s just one way. For you to manifest, taking energy isn’t something you need to worry about doing. Rely on the energy in yourself and—”
Tesin caught up with them then and Wen’s lips pressed together in a tight line.
Morgan shook her head. “Just… take me back to the Daily Grind.”
On the ride back, Morgan stared resolutely out the window, her head swimming with the new world that was being revealed to her. She couldn’t belong to it. They had to be wrong about her.
But even as she tried to convince herself, she became aware of sensations emanating from her companions. The impressions she received were indistinct, but still stronger than anything she had ever experienced when doing a psychic reading for a client. It was almost like a distinct glow coming off each of them. Kellen’s was the brightest.
When Tesin pulled in to the Daily Grind’s parking lot, Kellen handed Morgan a phone. “Put your number in.
“What? Why?”
He smiled. “So I can call you.” When Morgan made no move to comply, he added, “Please.”
“Look,” said Tesin turning from the driver’s seat so he could see her, “there’s a group of us getting together tomorrow night—”
Morgan saved her number and handed the phone back to Kellen. “By ‘us’ you mean—”
“People like us, yes,” Tesin clarified. “Kellen will call you tomorrow to give you the where and when. I think you should come.”
“Can I bring Ris?” Morgan asked immediately.
Tesin just stared at her, confused, but Kellen chuckled.
“Your little blond friend? From the party? Sure,” said Kellen. “You can bring her.”
Wen gave Kellen a closed look. “Really?” He sounded dubious.
Kellen just nodded. “It’ll be fine.” And that seemed to close the matter.
Tesin opened the car door and got out, leaning back in to move his seat forward. “Okay, we should let you go.”
Morgan climbed out of the back seat, grateful to feel solid ground underfoot.
“You gonna make it?” Tesin’s voice was quiet, meant just for her.
She considered his question a moment before nodding. “I think so. It’s just… It’s a lot to take in, you know.”
He nodded. “Just try not to let all this stuff freak you out. Kellen will call tomorrow. And I’ll see you tomorrow night. We’ll explain more then.” Not waiting for a response, Tesin swung himself back into the car and shut the door. He backed out of the space and pulled out onto the street as Morgan stood and watched.
When they were out of sight, Morgan finally moved toward her car. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and pushed at the button on her remote; however, her grip was not as sure as she anticipated, and she ended up dropping them and kicking them across the parking lot. She stopped, putting her hands over her face and pressing her fingertips against her eyelids. She needed to pull it together before she could drive home, but the proposition was a difficult one to accept. Her brain was still working through what she’d seen: mind control, the taking of energy from a completely wiling person. There was the strength she had sensed in Kellen after he took that girl’s energy.
Then, of course, there was the fact that she could sense the strength of Kellen’s energy to begin with.
Suddenly, she sensed something else. Though her eyes were still closed she knew someone was approaching her.
“Morgan? Are these yours?”
She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to focus them. Standing before her was Corbin, his dark blond hair strategically mussed, his green eyes fixed on her. From his outstretched fingers dangled her car keys. She reached out and took them from him. “Thanks.”
He studied her closely. “You okay?”
She shifted under his scrutiny. “Do you care?”
He smiled. “Of course I do. I care immensely about you. You’re my favorite school psychic, you know.”
Morgan wanted to point out that she was the only school psychic, but she didn’t. “That’s hard to believe, since you’ve never
come for a reading.”
“I read your horoscopes in the newspaper, though.” He ran a hand through his hair—on the side, Morgan noticed, so as not to destroy the casually unkempt effect. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. Marya and Shayna were out of line.”
The memory of her exchange with Lynna’s minions jolted Morgan’s mind from the craziness of what she had just experienced and her thoughts landed in an entirely different place: Kellen had said that her mother was a Natural, that she had abilities like his. Could that really be true? Had she really had some sort of vision that told her she needed to leave Morgan, leave Morgan’s father?
Corbin must have taken Morgan’s silence for discomfort, so he changed the subject. “I noticed you and Clare seemed to be having fun later on in the night, though, so I guess that’s good.”
Morgan bristled as she did any time Corbin called Ris Clare. She knew that her friend’s full name was Clarissa and that she had gone by Clare in elementary school, but she’d been Ris since sixth grade. Leave it to someone like Corbin not to notice.
“She’s a really good dancer,” Corbin continued. “And she looked fantastic last night. You both did.”
She couldn’t stifle a snort.
“What?” Corbin shrugged, putting his hands palm-up. “It’s true. I didn’t really like Clare’s hair when she got it cut short like it is, but I like when she spikes it a little and puts those sparkly barrettes or whatever in it. And, Morgan, you rocked those high heels.”
Morgan just stared at him, surprised he recalled with that much detail how she and Ris looked at the party.
A car pulled into the parking lot, drawing Corbin’s attention. He saluted the driver with a chin raise. “Well, I should probably get inside. I’m meeting my band here and we’re scheduling some dates to play. You and Clare should come see us sometime.”
Corbin’s face was open and earnest, and Morgan found herself believing he really meant it. But that was the problem with Corbin: he always seemed like that. He could be talking to a bum on the street and appear just as genuine in his invitation.
Two of Corbin’s band mates approached him and Morgan felt it was the perfect time to exit. She mumbled a generic goodbye before getting into her car and starting for home. But as she pulled onto the street, she got the distinct impression that Corbin was thinking about her.
She didn’t know which was more disturbing: that she was able to sense the thoughts of another person or that Corbin Starling seemed to have taken an interest in her.
Chapter Four
The next morning found Morgan in the senior lot at ABC.
In her sophomore year, Morgan was placed in the Journalism and Yearbook class. It was a mistake with her schedule: Morgan never signed up for it, was not interested in the class at all. However, before she was able to go through with a schedule change request, she was won over by the course’s teacher, Mr. Kment. He offered to let Morgan write horoscopes for the paper, and since then, JY had been Morgan’s favorite class.
Therefore, the fact that the JY staff had to come in to school three weeks before the school year was to begin didn’t bother Morgan at all. Instead, she was rather excited to see some of her fellow staff members—McKenna Orlowski and Stew Lackowski among them. And, of course, it would be nice to see Mr. K.
Morgan placed her cell phone into her glove box—Mr. K frowned upon them using cells during meetings—but hesitated before closing it. Kellen hadn’t contacted her yet with information about the party and she wanted to have it with her in case he called. After a moment’s debate, she slammed the glove box closed. If he called, she could call back.
She headed into the school building and up to the JY room. The room was actually two rooms combined. It had large windows all along the outside wall and a great many tables arranged haphazardly with mismatched chairs surrounding them. In addition to a half dozen or so computers lining the non-windowed walls, there was a laptop cart nestled in a corner.
When she walked into the room, she saw Mr. K immediately. He wore his usual summer-and-Fridays uniform of blue jeans and a solid-color T-shirt (dark blue today). His light brown hair was especially short—he must have just gotten it cut—and on his face was its characteristic stubble, like he shaved yesterday. He was attempting to hook up the data projector. Morgan smiled; he was forever having difficulty with this particular task.
“Hey, Mr. K,” she said, walking toward him. “Need some help?”
Mr. K turned to her and smiled. “Morgan. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” Morgan said. And she meant it. She and Ris often joked about the crush Morgan cherished for her teacher. Not that it was a real crush. Not really. It wasn’t like Morgan wanted to date Mr. K or have some sort of elicit relationship with him—she had what Ris liked to call a nonsexual crush on him. She found him very easy on the eyes. She liked to look at him. And he made the long hours the JY staff pulled much, much more tolerable.
“How’s your summer been?” Mr. K asked. He pushed a button on the projector and it beeped angrily.
Morgan shrugged. “Busy.”
“Still telling fortunes?”
She smiled. “You know it. How was your summer?”
Mr. K looked at Morgan for a moment then shrugged. “Busy, too.” He glanced over Morgan’s shoulder as someone else entered the room. “Maybe I’ll be able to tell you about it sometime.”
Morgan turned as another person entered the room and her eyes landed on her friend McKenna Orlowski. Morgan smiled. She walked over to McKenna and engaged in the usual how-have-you-been conversation. As she did so, the person who entered the room just before McKenna walked over to Mr. K. She had blond hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head and wore knee-length linen cargo shorts and a light button-up blouse. Morgan didn’t recognize her, but she seemed to know Mr. K. She called him Greg and nudged him out of the way so she could hook up the projector. Though she looked almost as though she could be a student, Morgan wondered if she was a new teacher.
She also wondered what Mr. K’s last statement to her had meant. He said he might be able to tell Morgan about his summer sometime. It seemed like an odd turn of phrase. But she couldn’t reflect on it too much because the room was filling up. McKenna snagged a table for her and Morgan to sit at, and they were soon joined by Stew Lackowski, a thickset senior with a buzz-cut and a perpetual kind streak.
The room filled, and within five minutes, Mr. Kment called for the staff’s attention and started talking about last year’s yearbook and the theme they chose for this year’s book. Morgan didn’t pay much attention. She worked primarily on the newspaper. She didn’t mind coming to yearbook meetings, though, as they were an excuse to stare at Mr. K. But today she found she couldn’t lose herself in watching him because her mind was back in the glove box of her car with her phone. Had Kellen called yet? What if she entered her phone number wrong? What if he called and needed to talk to her right then? What if he’d found out something about her mother?
By the time Mr. Kment was ready to show the staff a slide presentation of excellent spread designs, Morgan felt physically agitated. She was tapping her fingernails on the tabletop so loudly that people from neighboring tables were shooting her dirty looks. Even Stew, who was rather easygoing, went so far as to cover Morgan’s hands with his.
“Morgan, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Morgan just shook her head. “Too much caffeine this morning, I think,” she lied. “I’m gonna go get a drink of water.”
Stew eyed her dubiously but nodded.
Trying not to draw any more attention to herself, Morgan got out of her seat and walked quietly to the hallway, considering walking down to her car just to check her phone. When she was about halfway down the hall, she realized someone was following her. When she turned, she expected to see McKenna or maybe Stew, so she was surprised when she saw the woman who called Mr. K by his first name earlier.
“Are you okay?” she asked, walking toward Morga
n.
“Um… yeah,” Morgan replied. “I just… I needed a drink of water.”
She waited for the woman to say something, feeling it would be rude to just turn her back and continue down the hall. However, the woman didn’t say anything, so Morgan asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d first seen her. “So… who are you?”
The woman seemed slightly surprised by the question, but she smiled. “New English teacher. Ellie—Miss Scotford.” She smiled again, apologetically. “I worked at a small school for the last couple years and the students all called the teachers by their first names. It’s taking some getting used to.”
Morgan nodded. “So—and I don’t mean to be rude—but what are you doing here?”
“Fair question.” She smiled. “I worked on the newspaper and yearbook at my last school and when I got hired here, I volunteered my services. And Greg—Mr. Kment—was really happy to have some assistance.”
Morgan didn’t know what to say to that, so she just smiled. For a few moments, she and Miss Ellie Scotford just stared at each other. Then Miss Scotford motioned to the JY door. “I’d better get back in there. Nice talking to you, Morgan.”
Miss Scotford walked back into the room, and Morgan made a quick trip out to her car. There were no alerts on her phone and Morgan found she was both disappointed and relieved. Resolving to put Kellen’s impending call out of her mind until the end of the meeting, she made her way back into the school. It wasn’t until she was almost back to the JY door that she realized something: Miss Scotford had called Morgan by her name, but Morgan hadn’t introduced herself.
She wasn’t able to reflect on this discovery for long, however, because when she got back to the room, she saw that Mr. K’s presentation was over and the staff was already at work. Morgan smiled. She loved the look of the JY room when everyone was working. It made her feel like she was part of something important.
Awaking (The Naturals, #1) Page 3