Gravity (The Eclipse Series, Book 1 of 2)

by M. Leighton

  All through the night, some part of me had held onto the last thread of hope, thinking every noise I heard was him at my window. Only it never was. As a result, a suffocating disappointment had plagued me ever since I’d opened my sleep-deprived eyes when my alarm had sounded.

  I’d seen Trace at Brady’s locker within minutes of arriving at school, but he’d hurried away when I’d approached. The same thing had happened when I’d seen him walking toward me in the math wing hallway before third period. He’d turned and gone down the adjacent hall instead.

  I knew that, despite his obvious reluctance to get anywhere near me, I still owed him my knowledge of what was going on. Unfortunately, I’d gotten to the point where I dreaded talking to him more and more with each passing minute.

  At lunch, I decided I’d eat outside in the sunshine by myself rather than give Trace the satisfaction of avoiding me. I’d avoid him this time. I even turned my back to the cafeteria so that I wouldn’t be tempted to glance in his direction, as it seemed that my eyes were drawn to him if he was anywhere within sight.

  It was a struggle to push my food past the lump in my throat, but I managed to get almost half of my lunch chewed and swallowed. It was as I was picking at the last bit of the orange on my tray that I felt a disconcerting anger making its way through me.

  Although I was a bit confused at first, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I was experiencing someone else’s emotion. Apparently Brady had triggered another transformation.

  I stood and looked back toward the cafeteria just as rage hit me like a punch to the gut. I was vaguely aware of the whispering as the bone-crunching changes of the Grendel were transferred to me all the way from the cafeteria. But who was it?

  Despite the rush of adrenaline from the anger, the pain doubled me over and I fell to my knees in the grass. I watched through the open doors as Brady stood, so quickly that it sent his chair flying back against the wall with a smack, and faced off against Adam Queen, my ex.

  I was surprised to find out that Adam had a second nature, as it had remained hidden the night of the party. Then again, things seemed to happen erratically at every turn now. Maybe that’s what I should expect—the unexpected.

  I couldn’t reason why all of a sudden they hated each other so much, unless it was strictly related to what their second natures were. Maybe they were on different “teams” in the supernatural world and there would always be an inherent distaste for one another, sort of like Brady had experienced for Trace that first night. All I knew was that it was powerful and it felt like it was consuming me.

  Just then Jeremy Allen, Brady’s most despised adversary, jumped into the fray. I knew instantly that he was a Grendel as well, and his influence coupled with Adam’s was nearly my undoing.

  I could barely think past the excruciating pain and all-consuming anger. What little coherent thought I could manage came in the form of a single question that kept running through my mind, as if on a loop. Why hadn’t they changed before? Why hadn’t they changed before? Why hadn’t they changed before?

  Rather than expending my remaining energy on reasons and logic and explanations, I strained with all my might to focus my attention on pushing their influence out of myself.

  But I couldn’t. No amount of strain or struggle or determination made any difference. I could feel the transformation taking place within me and, as it was happening, it was swallowing bits and pieces of my soul. I could feel it killing off parts of what made me human, what made me able to function. I wasn’t made to be a Grendel and my body couldn’t accept the form for very long. The whispers told me that. There was only one way I could withstand the influence or accept the changes—with Trace at my side.

  Only he wasn’t. And there was nothing I could do about it. Without him, I was at the mercy of my curse, of my second nature. And it would very likely kill me.

  I was already feeling short of breath when the final blow struck. Brady became angry enough for the vampire inside him to rise to the surface, taking over his humanity and hitting me like a bullet to the chest. It was powerful, more powerful than any of the other natures I’d experienced. And it was more than I could bear.

  My bones felt like jelly and the air turned to a thick soup that I couldn’t draw into my lungs. I felt the tissues in my chest—the tendons and ligaments, the skin and the muscle—give way to the vicious fingers that were relentlessly tearing me apart.

  It only took a few weak attempts of struggling to breathe for me to realize that any one of the shallow gasps could be my last. Instinctively, my eyes searched the cafeteria for Trace. As my vitality drifted farther and farther away, I found that he was the only thing that mattered to me. And he was nowhere to be found.

  A sob swelled inside my already tortured heart and black dots began to swim in front of my eyes. My strength was failing me and I had no choice but to lie over onto my side and await whatever came next. I knew I didn’t have the physical will to fight anymore; the powers had come upon me too quickly and they were too strong. But more than that, at that moment, I lacked the emotional strength to fight. I knew that without Trace, the best I could ever hope for out of life was a dim shadow of happiness, something without substance or longevity, something fleeting and sad. Why would I want that?

  Just before the entire world went dark around me, I saw Lacey racing through the cafeteria doors and making her way to me. Within seconds, she was on her knees in front of me, pulling my head into her lap.

  That was the last thing I saw before all my conscious thoughts floated out into a blissful sea of nothingness.

  I was more than happy to let them go.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar sight—my bedroom ceiling. My mind yawned wide to take in consciousness, much like it did any other day when I first woke up. Only I wasn’t just now waking up. I had already been to school.

  With a gasp, I sat up in bed, my head spinning dizzily as I did. The first thing I saw was Lacey’s worried face where she sat on the end of my bed.

  “You’re all right. It’s just me,” she said soothingly.

  “What happened? How did I get here?”

  “You don’t wanna know,” she said with a grin. “How are you feeling?”

  I did a quick internal diagnostics before I answered. I felt fine. A little tired and lightheaded, but otherwise fine.

  “I’m okay. I think.”

  “Do you remember what happened? I mean, when I got to you, you were practically catatonic. Nearly unconscious. I was gonna get the principle and have them take you to the hospital, but the last thing you said before you blacked out was that you just wanted to go home. Twice you said that and then you were gone.”

  “Huh.” At least I was aware enough in my internally-battered state to know that no doctor could help me and that there was no point in anyone taking me to see one.

  “What’s going on, Peyton? What was that all about?”

  “When Brady and Adam started fighting, they both started to transform into their second natures and I couldn’t get away from them before it was too late. And then when Jeremy Allen arrived…it was just too much. I can’t handle all their power.” When I noticed Lacey’s puzzled expression, I realized I needed to explain. “They’re both Grendels, by the way.”

  “Ah,” she said, understanding lighting her beautiful face. “Whatever a Grendel is,” she mumbled before she continued. “So your second nature is to absorb other people’s second nature, but it can practically kill you? Is that it?”

  I nodded, snorting derisively. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Dude that sucks! I thought mine was bad, but yours is even worse I think.” She paused in thought for a minute. “Is there nothing you can do to stop it or handle it better or…”

  The sadness that seemed to be waiting continually just outside my thoughts came rushing in like a black tide. Casting my eyes down, trying my best to blink back tears before Lacey could see them, I picked absentl
y at a tiny thread poking through my comforter. “Not without Trace.”

  I heard Lacey gasp and saw her hand fly to her chest. When I looked up, her eyes were awash with the unshed tears of sympathy. She looked as heartbroken as I felt.

  “Omigod, Peyton, that’s horrible!”

  I nodded, still trying valiantly to hold onto my composure.

  “It breaks my heart.”

  “Mine, too, Lace. Mine, too.”

  Before she could hug away the last of the tenuous grip I had on my emotions, I shook my head and inhaled deeply, shaking off the gloom.

  “I guess I’m just gonna have to find another way. There has to be something we’re missing, some key to controlling all this. Right?”

  Although I hoped my expression was encouraging to her, I desperately needed Lacey to agree with me. I couldn’t bear the thought of this being all there was, of there being no hope for something more.

  “Right. We just need more information. I could even go back to the library. That wasn’t so bad.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Lacey, I think I have unintentionally underestimated you.”

  “I knew that, but how so?” she teased.

  “I’m pretty sure you are one of the only people in the United States educational system that has made it through nearly twelve years of school without having to visit the library. Seriously, I can’t even imagine how many horrific and shamefully cliché excuses you’ve had to use in order to accomplish such a feat.”

  She grinned proudly. “Ogles the mind, doesn’t it?”

  “That is does,” I agreed, giggling at her misuse of the word ogle.

  Lacey wrinkled her nose and cringed. “Wrong word again?”

  “Eh,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “I knew what you meant.”

  ********

  Another trip to the library turned out to be a colossal waste of time. What little we found out seemed only to accentuate the hopelessness of anything changing.

  Lacey dropped me off at the house and then headed off to meet Brady after practice. She didn’t tell me that’s where she was going, but I knew it nonetheless. We were researching at the library when she suddenly began rushing me along. I noticed that the closer it got to five o’clock, the more she rushed. It finally occurred to me what she was doing when Brady called my cell to tell me he wouldn’t be home for dinner, even though he hesitated to tell me why. I supposed that neither of them wanted to rub their happiness in my melancholy face.

  The more time that passed after Lacey dropped me off, the more time I spent alone with my thoughts, the more I spiraled into the fatalistic view that a very imminent death was an inevitability for me. Despite what I suspected was an important role for me in the nebulous impending battle, I was beginning to feel more and more certain that I wouldn’t be alive to fulfill it.

  A surge of fear—overwhelmingly strong and intensely poignant—coursed through my heart. Although my bedroom was cool, I felt a cold sweat break out on my brow as panic threatened to overcome my more rational thoughts. Purposely, relentlessly, I pushed the fear aside in favor of a less selfish perspective.

  If my role was an important one and I wasn’t alive to complete my as yet unknown mission, that could only mean one thing—darkness would win. The question was: where would that lead? How widespread would the damage be? Because I got the feeling that it would have a truly global impact.

  Finally, exhaustion won out over my frantic mind, dragging me down into a fitful sleep filled with nightmarish creatures, threatening shadows and impossible situations. It was there that I first met the real Amity Ledger.

  ********

  In my dream, I was walking beneath a beautiful tree in the dead of fall. Dark red leaves were raining down around me, making the white dress I wore stand out in sharp relief. Up ahead, I saw a huge stone building. It looked abandoned and ominous, but in my dreams I had no fear, so I didn’t hesitate to approach it.

  I discovered that it was an old college dorm. I walked down the main hall, pausing to look into each dark room, until I came to one that wasn’t empty. Slipping inside it, I moved to crouch in a corner and watch what I knew to be an incubus at work. I observed him for several minutes before I realized, quite unexpectedly, that I knew him. The incubus was in the laughable form of Hal Brighton.

  At roughly five and a half feet tall with mousy brown hair and mouth full of crooked teeth, Hal was as seemingly innocent as they come. His wormy demeanor, taped-up glasses and severe acne ensured no one would suspect him of such nocturnal activities. I couldn’t imagine him being able to seduce anyone, let alone the legions of women that an incubus would conquer.

  As I pondered whether or not it was only part of my dream—Hal being an incubus—I began to see the changes take place. At that point, I knew deep down that what I was seeing was very real.

  From the unlikely beginnings of Hal Brighton emerged one of the most amazingly handsome guys I’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot considering how I felt about Trace. Looking at his incredibly handsome face and Chippendale-perfect body, I could see how this creature could work his way into the bedroom of virtually any girl in the free world. He was that hot!

  He was in the midst of working his considerable charms to seduce his current prey when none other than Amity Ledger strolled by the open door. She paused to look in, rolling her eyes when she saw Hal. She was just about to move on when she saw me in the corner. Her pink-painted lips twisted into a snarl as she turned to face me, crossing her arms over her chest and assuming her usual attitude-laden stance.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Trace’s little lap dog,” she sneered, sauntering a few feet into the room and stopping. “I would never have guessed you’d have dreams like this. So you’re a perv and a freak. Who knew?”

  “Obviously, if I had any control over my dreams, you wouldn’t be here,” I snapped back, surprising myself with my boldness. In real life, I doubted I’d ever talk to Amity that way.

  “Yeah, right. You probably have dreams like this all the time. You seem creepy like that. I just can’t figure out why I’m here.”

  Amity looked around in disgust, her top lip curling as if she were afraid to breathe the air in the dream for fear of corrupting her perfect lungs.

  “What do you mean?”

  Amity cast me a dubious look. “Are you deaf? Or is English your second language?”

  “Neither. And I didn’t stutter. Maybe you’re just too blonde to understand simple questions like what..do…you…mean.”

  “As if!” she replied with another roll of her eyes.

  “Then answer my question. What did you mean by that?”

  Amity paused, obviously debating what and how much to tell me. When she finally spoke, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. “I’m a dream walker.”

  “A what?”

  “A dream walker,” she said, more slowly as if that would help me to understand.

  As I thought about what she was saying, I wondered why I didn’t already know that, why the whispers hadn’t come to tell me about her.

  But then, as if on cue, they did.

  They told me about how she could slip inside anyone else’s mind and slide through their dreams—seeing their most intimate memories, accessing their most hidden secrets and reliving their most fearsome nightmares. Why anyone would want to do that was beyond me, but, perversely, it sounded just like something Amity would get a kick out of.

  I couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been doing it and if it had lent a hand in making her the nasty person she was. She was seeing terrible things and becoming privy to a lot of powerful information. Who wouldn’t be corrupted by that?

  “So you know about all the creatures in Two Lakes, huh?”

  Amity narrowed her eyes on me, but never answered. Instead, she walked further into the room and began opening doors. With each door she opened, more doors appeared along the length of the aged wallpapered walls. And with each door she
peeked into, I felt a nudging sensation in the back of my mind, as if she were rummaging through my head rather than through the room we were in.

  I soon found out that’s exactly what she was doing.

  “So you’re an oracle. And you’ve got the hots for Trace worse than I thought,” she said when she finally turned back to me. “Good luck with that. He’s a bigger freak than you are.”

  The first emotion that rushed to the surface was anger, but before I let it have some amount of control and I whipped the daylights out of Amity, I pushed it down and made a move to explore what she knew about Trace.

  I cleared my throat. “Why do you say that?”

  “His head is all screwed up. I mean, he’s got a face that’s to die for, but he’s got some major family problems.”

  “Like what?”

  Amity took a step closer and leaned in. It was as though, for a moment, she was able to forget that I was socially unacceptable in her eyes and treat me like a friend to whom she was could dish juicy gossip.

  “Well, apparently his father killed his mother and he saw the whole thing, so they keep putting spells on him to change his memories. This last one was a doozy!”

  “What last one? I thought all the magic had been removed?”

  “Are you kidding me? This one was one of the worst spells yet.”

  “So, if Rebekah isn’t Trace’s mother, who is she?”

  Amity shrugged, quickly losing interest in the subject. “I don’t know. I’m limited in what I can see. I’m not an oracle you know. That’s something you should be able to find out.”

  I wanted to ask her how, but I knew she didn’t know and I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of appearing to need her help.

  Just then, Amity cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Time to go,” she announced out of the blue, turning to meander casually away. All the scene lacked for a classic theatrical exit was the echo of her whistle as she faded down the hall.

  Within seconds, I realized what had triggered her departure. It was my alarm clock.

  ********

  Nearly an hour later, as I finished getting ready for school, I pondered the best way to approach Trace. The topic was so sensitive and so potentially volatile that it made me dread talking to him even more, which was saying a lot, and his strict avoidance of me only exacerbated it. I mean, far be it for me to force myself on him. Just the thought of him perceiving it that way made me physically ill. If I was prone to breaking out in hives over stress, I’d have been covered in red welts.