by Shaila Patel
At the end of the performance, she closed the book and sat back. “Liam, she’s exquisite. I observed fourteen different projected emotions with multiple nuances, but not from her, just the persona she created on stage. Simply incredible, and she’s not yet an empath.”
“Told you.”
She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “You only said she was beautiful and brilliant—nothing about her grace or the purity of her projections. And through a video, no less. Does she project this well when she’s not dancing?”
“Not all the time, but when she concentrates on one feeling, it’s powerful. I’ve seen her pushing aside some pretty heavy emotions too.”
Mum added something to her notes and removed her glasses, tapping the end of the frame against her lips. “By the way, your Uncle Henry rang today with an update. Patty’s begun reading emotions again, but he’s still keeping his mind closed off. There’s no telling when he’ll open up fully, but Henry is so optimistic right now. It’s heartwarming. He’s utterly grateful to Laxshmi.”
Lucky.
I’d not been able to stay away from her today. The odd thing was, if I moved more than a few feet away from her, I’d catch her twisting her fingers together and trying to hide the anxiety filling her eyes. When I’d leave for my own class, her panic felt like a lifeboat about to tip over. I pulled out the pillow behind me and sank deeper into the sofa, wondering if this was all part of being exposed to my empathic energy, or if it was something else.
“What’s worrying you?” Mum had been going over her notes, but now she stared at me from over the rims of her glasses that were back on her face.
Well, bollocks. I’d let my block slip. I projected my irritation at her for reading me.
“Don’t get annoyed with me, darling. Everything has always come so easy to you, and this hasn’t. Nothing worth having is without some risk—some risk, mind you. You’ll do well to remember that.” She put her notebook and glasses on the coffee table and jerked her head toward the stairs. “He’s coming. Oh dear, and he’s not happy.”
“Moira, a pint if you please, love.” Da exhaled loudly as he reached the bottom. “No, it’s the breath of life itself we should be having,” he called out as Mum headed toward the kitchen.
“Is Aunt Finola all right?” I asked. I’d bring up this secret test of his later.
He paced by the bookshelves. “She’s shaken up, but she’s tough. They’re bringing her back in two weeks. They said they might be having more questions for her after having their chinwag with me.” He ruffled his hair with both his hands. “Oh Finnie, Finnie, Finnie. What have I gotten you into?”
Mum handed him a glass of Bushmills. “A second questioning, you say?”
He took a large gulp of the whiskey and inhaled through his teeth, making a hissing sound. Whiskey wasn’t his usual drink of choice. “And in front of the whole court too. They’re making an example of her they are.” He pointed at me, but spoke to Mum. “When he becomes soulmated and rises up the Line of Ascension, do you think they’ll be giving up their spots easily? There’s talk that Elder Adebayo will be turning up his toes soon—heart problems, they say. The Council will doing anything they can to embarrass us, discredit us—now, before Liam takes his place.”
Not this shite again.
“Liam, boyo, you’ll be needing to find your target now, get joined, and take your place on the Council. Those arselickers will be falling over themselves to be getting into your good graces once you’re in their ranks. It could be the only thing to get Finnie out of this mess.”
I threw the sofa cushion to the side and shot up. “I’m not looking for a lost set of keys. And what if she’s not The One?”
“Are you even trying?” He thumped his fist against one of the bookshelves. “There’s too much at stake!” A desperate look flashed across his eyes. He averted them to stare into his whiskey, but not before ripples of his panic leaked out from behind his block.
Too much at stake? What was he saying? Because of an administrative headache with Aunt Finnie? I turned to Mum, who looked equally puzzled.
“Patrick—?”
“Just find her, Liam!” Da moved forward and gripped the back of a wing chair, his knuckles whitening.
What was his problem? He was acting rattled again, acting like he was keeping something to himself. If it could affect me, would it affect Lucky? Whatever it was, I’d not let it.
“Then what?” I held out my arms. “Do I drag her up before a bunch of old farts in Ireland? And for what? To let them invade her mind in an initiation ceremony? Prove she’s worthy? Then let them lock us up to become soulmated lab rats? What the hell are you trying to prove—that your bloody visions were right? Why is it now so important?” My blood pulsed through my neck at the idea of ripping Lucky from her life because of Da’s visions.
I’ll not let them touch her.
“Don’t be so damned melodramatic.” Da pointed at me with his glass in hand and moved around the chair. “What were you thinking all this was about—why we made all these sacrifices? Once you’re joined, you’ll be changing, evolving, bringing in a new era. Your enhanced powers will make you untouchable. Safe.” He took a drink from his glass, then swirled the amber liquid around. “Safe,” he whispered to himself.
“Safe? You know I don’t give a shite about the Council and their politics. Jaysus!”
“Don’t give a shite?” he bellowed. “Would ya rather put your life on the line?”
Mum gasped. She shot up from her chair and went to him. “Patrick, what aren’t you telling me? What have you been hiding? Have you had another vision?”
Da scrubbed his face with his free hand. Mum yanked it away and held his face in her hands, studying it. He hardened his expression and wrenched out of her grip, knocking into the lampshade. He turned to me. “Those Gaelic pages are the closest we’ve gotten to finding out about what you’ll be experiencing, how your abilities will be changing. Aunt Finnie needs your help … our help. She’s put herself into trouble for you.”
“I didn’t ask her to go to that restricted library, so don’t be blaming me when she was doing you the favor. And speaking of favors, why don’t you tell me about your other vision? How is it I’ll be knowing that I’ve found her? And how could you be keeping that to yourself?”
Da glared at Mum. She shook her head. “He has a right to know, Patrick.”
“Why did you keep it to yourself, Da? Was it because you wanted to be the one to say ‘Aha! Here she is,’ or is there some other secret to tell?”
“If I wanted you to know, I’d have damned well told you,” he spat, the smell of whiskey strong. He stared at me, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
“My lies were leading those girls on, and for what? So we had some entertainment before your next vision? Your keeping the truth from me affected them as well.” The anger heated my insides, and I fisted my hands.
He slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “What is it you’re not telling me? You used to say the soul mate or the target and now it’s her and she. So who is this she? I’ll follow you to school if I must, and drag the both of you back to Ireland.”
“Patrick, darling, be reasonable—”
I rushed forward and stopped within an inch of his face. “Don’t you be threatening me.”
“You know who she is, don’t you?” His face reddened, and he searched my face as if the answer were written there.
“If I did, I’d not let you anywhere near her.” Hell if I ever tell Da about Lucky now. I’d not let him use her to manipulate me.
His eyes blazed, and he looked ready for a milling. I widened my stance. I was ready too.
“That is more than enough from the both of you.” Mum shoved us apart. “Patrick, we’re all worried about Finola, but how is Liam meant to find the right girl in a few days?” She turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “You are trying, darling, are you not?”
I
glared at Da. “Of course.”
Da spoke to Mum, though he returned my hard stare. “Something’s not right, Moira. The new visions were clearer than ever before.”
Mum jerked her attention to Da. “What new visions?”
He ignored her. “Do your job and find her.”
I stepped closer. “If I do, I’ll be keeping her miles away from your pussface.”
“You ungrateful—”
“Enough!” Mum pushed me back to keep Da from grabbing me. “Go on, Liam. Leave us. Come back when you’ve had a chance to calm yourself.”
I grabbed my car keys and slammed the front door on my way out. We’d never fought like that before. I exhaled and stretched my neck from side to side.
It was almost seven. Dammit. Lucky’s mum would be at home. I stepped in her direction, but stopped, running a hand over my stubble. Her mum would never let me see Lucky, and my brain was too fried to think of an excuse. I couldn’t even ring her mobile. Her mum monitored all of Lucky’s calls and texts.
If she wasn’t my soul mate, why did I feel this magnetic pull toward her? Ciarán would definitely say my other head was doing my thinking. Was it just hormones between us? But why would that leave me with this irrepressible urge to protect her from Da and the Elders? More bloody questions. I slammed my palm into the porch post and then flew down the steps.
Once in my Range Rover, I cranked up some Dropkick Murphys until the windows shook, and I sped off, away from everyone.
When I got back, it was after eleven. My ears were ringing from the music, but it had drowned out my thoughts as I’d hoped it would. Da was sitting on the sofa with family photo albums strewn about him, his shoulders slumped, his eyes bleary, red, and glazed over. Whatever talking to Mum must have given him had calmed him.
He waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Your ma left your supper in the microwave.”
“Thanks.” I sat in one of the wing chairs, facing him. I nodded at the albums. “What’s all this?”
He pointed to a photo. “Remember this one?”
I looked less than a year old. Da was holding me at some picnic, allowing me to gum the top of a Guinness bottle.
“You were teething,” he said. “The bottle was cold. You kept leaning for it to soothe your sore gums. You wouldn’t let it go.”
“I remember hearing the story—your brothers would tease you about wasting the good Black Stuff.”
He nodded and began closing and stacking the albums on the coffee table. I handed him the ones closest to me. Resting his head on the back of the sofa, he rubbed the bridge of his nose like Mum always did.
I went to the kitchen, warmed up my supper and brought it back to the front room with a bottle of Guinness for each of us. I was more hungry than curious, so I didn’t press Da on how we’d prove Lucky was The One. However this test played out, she needed me as her guardian angel, and I needed her.
The test wouldn’t be changing anything.
CHAPTER 20
Lucky
Caitlyn and her boyfriend, Justin, came to pick me up early Saturday morning in his black pickup. Mom was ready for work and walked out with me as they pulled up, leaving me to explain who Justin was to her award-winning scowl. She wasn’t pleased, but hardly had a choice. I had to remind her last night that I’d promised to help the girls choreograph a dance routine for Homecoming. She liked Caitlyn and Bailey, so she’d agreed to the weekend and after-school practices—as long as I wasn’t on the drill team itself. “Too distracting,” she’d said.
Mom eyed my outfit and in a last-ditch effort to control me, ordered me to wear a T-shirt over my razor-back sports top and yoga shorts. I groaned and ran inside. Did she think I wouldn’t rip it off as soon as we started dancing? It was already eighty-five degrees.
I told Mom I’d come back after lunch and then go to Shiney’s house to study. She told me to keep my cell phone on me, which meant she’d track my phone from work. I’d conveniently let the battery drain down last night—she’d be suspicious if I told her I left my phone off, but she’d only doubt me if I showed her my spent battery.
Today was too special to let her ruin it.
Caitlyn brought me back home a little after eleven. I rushed to shower and get ready. Wrapped in a towel, I stared into my wardrobe, wondering how I was supposed to dress for a Saturday afternoon lunch-homework meeting with my—what—boyfriend’s parents?
Was he my boyfriend? We hadn’t talked about it, but he wasn’t shy about letting everyone at school know how he felt about me. He’d been more than attentive and affectionate. I smiled. I’d catch him staring at me, or vice versa, and it was almost as if the tingling could pass through us without any contact. It was comforting. It felt right.
I chose a white, smocked, linen dress, whose sleeves rested off my shoulders. Sujata called it my sexy-on-the-fly dress. If Mom was anywhere around, I could pull up the sleeves and cover my bare shoulders. With the richly colored floral embroidery along the edge, it looked like something handmade in Mexico.
I walked over to Liam’s house, fidgeting with the hem. The dress fell mid-thigh, and where my shoulder bag rubbed it, the hem kept riding up. My wedges made no sound on the sidewalk, and I glanced down to remind myself I was actually walking because, in truth, I wanted to run—my heart was already pumping like I was sprinting anyway.
I climbed his porch steps and tried to calm my breathing. Before I could reach for the doorbell, Liam threw open the door and froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and his eyes did the same, scanning me from head to toe.
I raised an eyebrow. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”
“Uh, no. You look … ” He opened his mouth and closed it.
I smiled and felt the warmth creeping up my neck. So he liked the dress.
He took my hand and pulled me through the doorway. His mom came up behind him, and I dropped my hand from his, reaching up to push my sleeves up a bit. I couldn’t believe I was here.
“It’s so lovely to meet you, darling. I’m Moira. Please come in. I nearly fainted when Liam told me he’d asked you to lunch.”
Liam shot her a look, and I choked back a laugh.
She turned and winked at me. “I hope you like fish, Laxshmi. Liam, don’t just stand there, take her bag.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand to shake hers, but she gave me a warm, lavender-scented hug instead.
Moira seemed quintessentially English—refined and poised with an elegant accent. I instantly liked her. Even though it was Saturday, she wore a tailored, pale-blue blouse and pressed linen slacks, and loose waves of her blond hair skimmed her jawline as if she’d just had her hair done.
“Lunch smells delicious,” I said.
“Thank you, darling. Make yourself at home. It should only be another moment.”
Their living room had wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves, a fireplace with a flat-screen above it, and small photo frames displayed between books. A deep green-and-blue Persian rug covered the wood floor and sectioned off the seating area. No culturally confused sofas here. A soothing, latte-colored fabric covered the sofas, and across from them, two brown leather wing chairs begged to be sat in. Reading lamps hung over the chair arms, and I imagined curling up in one of them with a favorite book.
A coat of arms hung on a small section of wall near the hallway. It was surrounded by an ornate, burnished gold frame, the kind you’d see in a museum. Aside from the formal-looking rug and the museum-style frame, the room looked lived-in and casual. I studied the coat of arms, determined to learn something about Liam. It was a white shield with a row of fleurs-de-lis at the top against a splash of red. Beneath that, royal-blue diamonds sat between parallel lines cut diagonally across the front. It looked simple and strong. A small gold plaque below it declared it to be the Ancient Arms of Ó Faoláin.
We both had rich cultures, only mine didn’t practice heraldry, and his didn’t have a dance that was t
housands of years old.
Liam stood behind me, not saying a word, not even touching me. He opened his mouth and closed it again. I didn’t mind waiting for whatever he had to say because for once, I had no worries.
I walked, followed by Liam, around the perimeter of bookshelves, fingering the bindings. The topics ranged from Celtic tribes to horticulture, and psychology to the Indian government. I wished I could flip through them all. A photo of Liam and his dad caught my attention. His dad was quite handsome with his laugh lines and graying hair, and I wondered where he was and what Liam would look like in a few decades.
He cleared his throat. “You’re wearing a dress.”
I had to bite my lips together to keep from laughing. I turned around. “It’s a wonder you’re not in more AP classes.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and dipped his head, but not before he smiled and his face flushed.
“Is your dad here?” I asked.
“Uh, no. He had to be in Charlotte, so he left earlier. I’ll be meeting up with him later.”
Liam was leaving? I took a deep breath to calm my heart. It had been like this for the past two days whenever he left me. I never thought I’d be the clingy type. Neurotic? Yes. Clingy? No.
“So how long will you be gone?”
A concerned look etched his face. “We’ll be back Monday, no worries. If your mum’s working Labor Day, I’ll come over, yeah?”
“She is.” I smoothed the front of my dress, trying to act casual, knowing I’d be missing him like a bad sugar craving. Would he miss me? “You didn’t have to leave with him this morning?” I hated the question. It sounded needy.