by M. Leighton
********
“What happened?” Jace asked for the fourth time in as many minutes. And for the fourth time, no one answered. I was fairly certain that no one else knew how to answer that question any more than I did. So we didn’t even try.
When still he got no answer, Jace crossed his arms over his wide chest and turned his head to look out the window, pouting. After that, an uncomfortable silence filled the stuffy cab with tension. It was only increasing when we’d gone another three or four miles and no one had spoken. So I broke the tension in what was admittedly probably not the most advisable question in the world.
“What were you doing there, Brady?”
The noise he made in the back of his throat told me before he spoke that he was insulted. “A ‘thank you’ would’ve been sufficient, Peyton.”
“Thank you for getting us out of there, Brady,” I said perfunctorily. “Now, what were you doing there?”
I saw his jaw clench several times before he finally answered.
“We’ll talk about this later,” was the only response I got. And that was the end of all conversation until we reached the dirt lane that led to Chad’s dad’s cabin.
Brady pulled to a stop just shy of the area of grass that Chad had designated as the parking lot and slammed the gearshift into park.
“Everybody out,” he snapped.
Jace opened the door immediately, climbed out without a word and stomped angrily toward the party. Harrison pushed the front seat up and followed suit, leaving me and Trace the sole occupants of the back seat.
I scooted toward the door, but Brady brought me up short. “Not you two.”
With a sigh of exasperation, I leaned back in my seat and waited for him to lay into me.
After two excruciatingly long, quiet minutes, Brady finally spoke.
“You both saw that, right?”
“I saw it,” I responded. Trace didn’t speak, simply continued staring blankly out the window.
“What the hell were they?”
“Some sort of werewolf-like creatures.”
“Seriously, P? That’s all you’ve got?”
Even though he wasn’t even turned in my direction, I raised my hands, palm up. “What do you want me to say? That’s what they looked like to me.”
I didn’t want to say too much yet. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure what all of them were, or what Trace’s thought-to-be-dead father’s role in the whole thing was. As usual, I was likely going to end the night with more questions than answers.
“Well, I know that’s what they looked like, but how can you be so casual about it?”
“Well, um,” I began, debating whether to tell him small bits of the truth. “Probably because I’ve seen something like that before.”
“You what?”
Brady whipped around in his seat to look at me. From my peripheral vision, I saw Trace’s head jerk in my direction as well. Nervously, I began picking at my fingernails.
“Um, I’ve seen something like that before.”
“Where? When? Who are they?”
“I’m not sure yet who they were, but the one I’ve seen that looks similar is someone you know.”
“Who?” When I didn’t answer right away, Brady asked a second time, much more urgently. “Who, Peyton?”
I glanced at Trace, meeting his warm golden eyes.
“Trace.”
A dead, heavy silence fell over the interior of the Jeep like a suffocating blanket.
“So help me—” Brady began, finally turning further in his seat to address Trace.
“You won’t do or say anything, Brady, because you’re not human either.”
“What?”
“You’re a vampire and Trace is a werewolf,” I blurted.
He stared at me, slack-jawed, for several seconds before he snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“This is not the time for your attempts at humor, Peyton.”
“I’m not joking, Brady. I’ve seen it more than once. And you two aren’t the only…creatures in this town.”
“You seriously expect me to believe that I’m a vampire and don’t know it? Seriously?”
“I’m not sure how it progresses, but you’re not fully mature yet. None of you are. I’m the only one who can see you like you are.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you can see like fangs and crap right now?” Brady gave a short bark of laughter, one rife with disbelief, as he turned back around in his seat. With a snap, he pulled the sun visor down and opened the flap that activated the light over the mirror there. “Hey, look at that,” he said sarcastically, pointing to his very human reflection. “Not only do I not have fangs, I have a reflection.”
“You look fine to me now, too. But you weren’t earlier.”
“Peyton, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, if your air supply got cut off at birth or what, but you’re really starting to—”
Rather than slapping him, which was what I really wanted to do, I reached forward and placed my hand roughly against the side of Brady’s face. Like I’d done with Lacey, I concentrated every ounce of my strength on picturing Brady as I’d seen him in his second nature and pushing those thoughts out of me and into him.
At first, I felt nothing, only the stirring of Brady beneath my fingertips. But then the familiar rush came and I knew it was happening, just the way I wanted it to. A fraction of a second later, Brady’s gasp assured me of that.
I showed Brady what I’d seen that first night, the night he likely wouldn’t remember experiencing. I showed him what I’d seen in him as he smelled blood at the party the second time I experienced the party. And finally, I showed him how he appeared to me only minutes before, in the meadow.
When my visions were transferred and there was nothing left to show him, I released him and leaned back. Slowly, Brady turned to me, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
“How did you do that?”
“I don’t know. There’s something in me, too. Something different. There’s something different in a lot of us in this town.”
“Show me Trace,” Brady demanded.
“I can’t. I can only share visions of you with you. No one else. At least I don’t think I can. I’ve tried before and wasn’t able to.”
“Tried before? Who else knows about this?”
I hesitated before telling him. Not only would Lacey kill me if I told him her secret, but I still wasn’t sure how much I should tell people about what I knew.
“That’s not important. The main thing is that something is going on around here and we need to be civil to one another until we can figure it out. Obviously, we could be in danger.”
In the pause following my statement, Trace finally broke his silence.
“Show me,” he said simply. I turned to look at him. He didn’t need to elaborate. He didn’t need to explain. I knew what he meant.
Pulling one foot up underneath me, I turned to face Trace and leaned forward, gently pressing my palm to his warm cheek. Before I could push my memories of him forward, a little thrill ascended my arm and stirred in my chest like touching him transferred something into me as I was preparing to do to him. I just didn’t know what. But I could feel it nonetheless.
Hyper aware of Brady watching us, I cleared my throat and closed my eyes, focusing on the task at hand. Within seconds, I was able to show Trace what I’d seen of him. When I released him and opened my eyes, he was pale beneath his tan.
“I’m one of those things,” he whispered.
“No,” I responded reassuringly. “Not exactly anyway. There’s something different about us, something that people outside Two Lakes want.”
“Are you saying that based on what happened tonight, or…?” Trace asked.
“Well, that does make it much clearer, but I also just sort of…know. Some things just come to me. It’s like all of a sudden I just…know things,” I said, uncomfortable trying to explain the inexplicable, especially when it involved confessing t
hat I heard voices. That was never a good way to convince people of one’s sanity.
Trace was nodding slowly, watching me closely. I didn’t know what else to say.
“You’re the one,” he announced cryptically.
“Huh?”
“I knew it tonight. I think I’ve known it for a while now,” he admitted then added, “well, sorta.”
“Knew what? I mean…”
“I knew when you could sense the difference at the meadow.”
“Don’t listen to him, Peyton,” Brady said from the front seat.
“Brady,” I began, sighing in exasperation. But he cut me off.
“Did you know he’s taken every girl he’s ever dated to that spot?”
At his words, my heart dropped into my stomach, but I refused to show that I was affected.
“No, but it doesn’t matter, Brady. Nothing happened.”
Brady turned in his seat, fixing me with his angry eyes, completely ignoring Trace.
“Nothing happened because I showed up to stop him, Peyton.”
“Brady, you’re not my keeper. Nothing would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up. Did it ever occur to you that I’m a big girl and that I can take care of myself? That I am perfectly capable of making wise decisions?”
Brady said nothing, only turned back around, away from me.
I was acutely aware of Trace sitting to my left, also not saying a word. On the inside, my heart was breaking and I could feel the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes.
“But something did happen.” Trace’s announcement caused Brady to whirl around in his seat again, his eyes flashing red in the dim light.
“He didn’t mean like that, Brady,” I said, putting my hand out to stop him.
I looked to Trace, silently urging him to continue.
“Yes, I’ve taken every girl I’ve dated to the meadow. And none of them have felt it.”
“O-kay,” I said, not sure what I was supposed to say. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew he wasn’t helping matters at all by saying things like that.
“You’re the one I’ve been looking for, Peyton,” he confessed quietly, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his chest. He pressed my palm flat against the soft cotton that stretched over his heart. “I know you feel that.”
And I did. I felt life and calm and energy and love and strength flowing from his body into mine as if they were tangible entities. It was though everything I needed to both thrive and survive was pulsing from his being into mine.
“Dude, you are seriously begging for an ass-kicking,” Brady griped from the front seat, although his threat sounded fairly empty in comparison to the ire he’d shown on several previous instances. I could only hope that meant he was beginning to see that there was something very real, very unusual and very important going on. With all of us, not just between Trace and me.
“I think I’ve known for a while, but I tried to convince myself what I was feeling wasn’t real, or that I was mistaken. I knew he’d freak,” Trace said, tipping his head toward Brady, but still addressing me. Reluctantly, Trace tore his eyes away from mine and looked toward my brother. “Man, you know I’d never do anything to hurt her. You know me, Brady. You know me.”
Brady huffed, but said nothing, only turned back around in his seat and angrily leaned his head against the head rest.
“Look, we have a lot to get used to, but we have even more that we need to figure out. For instance, why Trace’s father who’s supposed to be dead was out in the meadow tonight and why we were attacked by a group of were…things.”
“And just how are we supposed to get answers? I mean, it’s not like we know anyone we can ask,” Brady groused from the driver’s seat. “This stuff is supposed to be make-believe, know what I mean?”
“Well, hopefully I’ll get some answers soon,” I said vaguely. “In the meantime, I think we have a place to start. Sort of, anyway.”
“And where is that, oh wise one?” Brady mocked.
I turned to look at Trace. “Your mom.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“He’s just using this as an excuse to get you alone, Peyton. Why can’t you see that?”
I was hooking dangly silver earrings through my pierced earlobes, trying my best not to physically attack my infuriating brother.
“No he’s not, Brady!” I exclaimed, spinning around to pin him with my stare. “How many times do I have to tell you? He’s taking me to his house so that I can ask some questions about Trace’s dad. She won’t think anything about him bringing a girl home and her asking things like that about a guy she’s interested in.”
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled, scowling down at me.
“Well, fortunately, you don’t have to. I’m going. I’m gonna find out what I can and that’s that.”
“Peyton, if he lays a hand on you, so help me God…”
“Brady, stop it!” I shouted, curling my fingers into fists of fury. “Did it ever occur to you that I might actually like him? Or that your issues with it might be coming from the fact that both of you are…something else? You need to get a grip before you get someone hurt or get us all into trouble.”
If it was possible, Brady’s frown appeared to deepen even more. “You like him?”
Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. I fiddled nervously with the ring that matched my earrings.
“I didn’t say that. I just asked if you’d ever considered the possibility, instead of just trying to impose your will on everyone else.”
Brady raked his fingers through his sandy hair. “No, to be honest, the thought never occurred to me.”
“But why not? Why would it be so inconceivable that I’d like Trace? I mean, he’s smart and funny, he plays football and he’s popular.” I paused, looking down at my shoes. “He’s good looking,” I finished quietly.
“Ohmigod, you do like him,” Brady spat, backing away from me as if in disgust.
“So what if I do? Does it matter? Would it be the end of the world? Why couldn’t you just be happy for me?”
“Because, he’s all wrong for you for one thing.”
“How so?”
“He’s…he’s just…he’s not good enough, P. It’s as simple as that.”
I snorted. “But Adam was? You didn’t have a problem with me dating him.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t like him like this.”
“What do you mean ‘like this’?”
“I just meant—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Brady Alan!” I warned.
“I just meant that you didn’t act this way over Adam.”
“Act like what?”
“Like this,” he said, indicating my body with a sweep of his hand.
“What? Putting on earrings? I put on earrings to go to school, Brady! That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not just that. It’s everything.”
“Everything,” I repeated.
“Yeah. Lots of stuff.”
I paused, looking closely at my brother’s face.
“You always were lousy at poker,” I stated flatly. “How long have you known?”
Brady pursed his lips and I thought at first he wasn’t going to answer. But then he did.
“For a while.”
I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation.
“Why didn’t you say something? Does Trace know?”
“No, I don’t think he ever suspected. He was always too wrapped up in picking through the rest of the hot girls in school.”
“He’s not like that, Brady, and you know it.”
Reluctantly, Brady nodded. “I know. I guess I always thought he was, and that he was just holding out on me by not telling me…everything. But I suppose I knew deep down that he wasn’t a player like that. Now that I think about it, he always did seem to be looking for something.” Brady looked at me with a concerned yet defeated look etching the planes and angles of his face. “I guess he finally found it.”
>
I schooled my expression as my stomach squeezed with pleasure over the implications of what he was saying. Even though I already had some idea of the connection between us, it somehow made it more real and more meaningful when my own brother could look at Trace and me and see that there was something special. Or at least acknowledge that there might be.
“Look, Brady, I appreciate what you’re doing. I really do, but it’s not necessary. We’re both all grown up. You can’t interfere in my life this way. Especially now. Something serious is going on around here and we all need to stick together. Can you act like a civilized person when Trace gets here? Please?”
After a brief hesitation, Brady nodded. Then, without a word, he bowed his head and left my room. I felt oddly upset by his departure, as if I’d somehow betrayed him in favor of Trace. But that wasn’t the case at all. I wasn’t making a choice. I should never have to. Still, it felt as though I’d let Brady down, like I’d mortally wounded him and that didn’t set well with me.
Pushing those disturbing thoughts aside, I focused on finishing my grooming before Trace arrived to pick me up. I was sliding my feet into some platform sandals I’d never worn before when I heard the bell ring. I grabbed my shoes and bolted for the door, not wanting to risk Brady answering it. Trace hadn’t used the bell for years, so it told me all I needed to know about how uncomfortable he was with the Brady situation.
Throwing my shoes down and quickly sliding my feet into them, I jerked open the door.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly, wobbling a bit in my tall heels.
I didn’t immediately take in Trace’s appearance, as his slow appraisal of me was somewhat disconcerting. I saw his mouth drop open the tiniest bit as his eyes zoomed all the way to my toes and then started a slow ascent.
I felt warmth and color blossom on my skin as his eyes raked over my various body parts—my toes, painted deep red; my legs, shaved smooth and shimmering with lotion; my black shorts, feeling smaller than they had when I’d put them on; my modest cleavage, what little could be seen in the scoop neck of my deep red baby doll top; my throat, where my pulse beat erratically; and finally on my mouth, which I’d stained a dark red as well. His eyes lingered there for a moment longer before he met my eyes.