Gravity (The Eclipse Series, Book 1 of 2)

by M. Leighton

  With a sigh, I reminded myself that it was important that I tell him what I’d found out. For that reason, I had no choice but to suck it up.

  As I dragged the brush through my hair, a sense of foreboding assailed me. It was poignant enough that I staggered back a bit and had to grab the bathroom sink for support, my head spinning with worry of an unknown etiology. When I finally straightened and moved to finish my hair, my palm was wet where it gripped my brush. Something was going on. I had no idea what it was, but I knew instinctively that it wasn’t good.

  When I came out of the bathroom, distracted by what might be looming ahead in the day, I nearly ran Lacey over. She was emerging from Brady’s room.

  “When did you get here?” I asked.

  “Um…” Lacey stammered tellingly.

  “You’ve been here all night and you didn’t even tell me?” I couldn’t keep the irritation from my voice. It seemed that everyone in my life was changing into someone I barely knew, barely recognized.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Lacey fidgeted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want you to feel worse about the situation with Trace. I feel guilty for being happy.”

  Her words drained the anger from me as effectively as pulling the plug would drain the water from a bathtub. Without hesitation, I wrapped one arm around Lacey’s neck and pulled her in for a hug. I wasn’t sure who needed it more—her or me—but for those few seconds, one relationship in my life seemed to be almost back to normal. And it felt wonderful.

  “Please don’t feel guilty. I want you to be happy. I’m happy that you’re happy. Brady, too.” To give more punch to my words, I smiled as brightly as I could. It must’ve worked because Lacey’s tense expression melted into one of blatant relief.

  “I’m so glad. I hate keeping things from you. It’s been making me feel like I’m choosing your brother over you. Like eggs benedict. And that’s not the case.”

  I chuckled, tactfully ignoring her mauled reference to the traitor, Benedict Arnold.

  “You don’t have to keep anything from me, Lace. Seriously,” I said, leaning back to look into her face. “I’ll be fine.”

  She smiled at me. “Of course you will. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  I returned her smile, but her words affected me much more than the casual gesture implied. I felt anything but strong lately and it meant more to me than I ever thought it could that Lacey thought I was strong. I wanted to be strong. I needed to be strong. I just wasn’t sure I was capable of being that strong. But it helped to think that Lacey saw something in me that made her think I was. It helped a lot.

  On the way to school, stuffed in the back seat of Brady’s Jeep, I pondered how something so small as an off-hand comment like Lacey’s could turn my whole day, my whole attitude around. Because it had. I felt much more prepared to talk to Trace, to handle whatever came my way in the coming days, weeks and months, even if that happened to be death, which I still refused to think about at length. In fact, I rode the high of her words all way to school and all the way down the hall to my locker, right up until the point where the world turned upside down.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The instant I reached my locker, a crowd of people seemed to materialize out of nowhere and descend upon me. It was as if they’d been lying in wait for me to arrive at school. And maybe they had.

  I was bombarded with questions, questions that might puzzle someone who didn’t know what was going on. But I did. I knew to what they were referring. I just didn’t know how they’d found out.

  “What am I?”

  “Do I have special powers?”

  “What can I do?”

  “Why is this happening?”

  “Can I hurt people?”

  “Is there something about this town?”

  “Is everyone in Two Lakes a freak?”

  “Will this ever go away?”

  “How do we control it?”

  “Is it contagious?”

  My head spun with their questions. My body hummed with their upset, their anxiety obviously nearly enough to trigger the rise of their second nature. I said a silent prayer that they wouldn’t start to change. Being trapped among them during their transformation would likely kill me on the spot. And I’d have no recourse, no choice in the matter, no protection from them.

  Trace’s image drifted through my mind, like a slow-moving train that refused to stop. And I let it go. There was no reason to cry over that spilled milk. His feelings for me were gone. I had to deal with it. And the way he was acting now was deplorable and I’d be doing myself a favor to just get good and mad rather than let it upset me.

  Only it did upset me. A lot.

  I felt the loss of him and of what we had like someone had stripped the skin from my body, exposing every nerve to the harshness of the air around me. I hurt. Deeply.

  As if summoned by my inner musings, a head taller than all those that surrounded me caught my eye. I looked up and met Trace’s eyes. For a brief moment, it registered how bedraggled he looked. His golden eyes were lackluster and ringed with dark circles that made him look far older than his years. His skin was pasty-pale and his mouth looked pinched. As he walked away, I noticed that his head hung the tiniest bit, almost dejectedly. Absently, I wondered what he had to feel dejected about. I was the one suffering here. Not him.

  As he walked away, it seemed that he took with him whatever last little bit of love in the world stood between me and the darkness that the crowd harbored. I could feel it closing in on me, sucking at my insides, draining me of something vital and light. Or maybe it wasn’t draining. Maybe it was more like I was absorbing their darkness and it was eclipsing the light. Whatever the case, whatever the reason, I knew that my last chance at surviving the school, at surviving the town, had just turned and walked away from me without a backward glance.

  When the voices of those surrounding me finally penetrated the thick cloud of misery Trace had left in his wake, it was their anger that I heard first. And then I felt it. As well as their powers.

  A telekinetic was squeezing at my throat. A dragon’s breath was superheating the flesh of my face. A witch was trying to manipulate me into telling her what she wanted to know. Another vampire wanted to sink her teeth into my carotid and drain me dry. I was bombarded with the feelings of dozens of different creatures, each one chipping away a little more at me, at what made me able to hold onto the reality of myself.

  I felt Adam arrive before I actually saw him. I could feel the intense anger of the Grendel hovering just beneath the surface, but I also felt something else coming from him, something…purposeful. But I had no idea what it was or what it meant. I didn’t have time to think about it either.

  Within minutes, I felt the same overwhelming ripping, tearing, spiraling sensation that I had the previous day at lunch. I couldn’t bear what they were unintentionally doing to me. I was missing something important, something that would allow me to function in the face of such power. And without it, I would eventually die. It was as simple as that.

  I felt my knees weaken and, as I began to slump slowly toward the floor, the crowd closed in even further, holding me upright with nothing more than the crushing force of their bodies. I pushed weakly with my arms, wondering in a detached way why I hadn’t separated myself from them sooner, before it had gotten this bad.

  Just as I was thinking that I’d made a possibly fatal mistake, I heard Brady’s growling voice boom from behind me. “The next person to touch her is gonna get the ass-kicking of their life!”

  Even in my devastated state, I saw the reaction of the masses. They were immediately quiet and respectful—not only of Brady, but suddenly of me as well. I just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  When they began to back up, I would’ve fallen to the floor like a sack of potatoes had Brady not grabbed me around the waist and started hauling me backward. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable or dignified way of being rescued, but I didn’t reall
y care. I just wanted to get away from them all.

  “What was that all about?” Brady asked as he propped me up against my locker. When my legs still refused to work, he grabbed my hands and assisted me while I slid clumsily to the floor.

  “She told them.”

  “Who? Who told them?”

  “The Amity-ville whore.”

  “The who?”

  “Amity. Amity Ledger.”

  “Amity? Told them what?”

  “She told them that I know what they are.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I told you I’m an oracle,” I snapped, frustrated that he never seemed to pay attention to what I said.

  “I know that. I mean how do you know it was Amity?”

  “She visited me in my dreams last night. She could see things, find out things. She knew all about me and apparently she knows a lot about the others, too.”

  “Why would she do that, though? Why would she tell them? What purpose would it serve?”

  “I don’t know. I guess just to hurt me. Just to be the mean girl that she is.”

  “Peyton, seriously. She isn’t that mean.”

  “Brady,” I said, my eyes boring holes into his. “She totally is. Without a doubt.”

  “No offense, P, but why would she give you a second thought? I mean unless…” He trailed off, a frown creasing the tan skin between his eyebrows.

  When he didn’t finish, I prompted, “Unless what?”

  “Ah, nothing,” he said dismissively.

  “Brady, tell me.”

  “It’s nothing, Peyton. Drop it. I’m sure it couldn’t be that anyway.”

  “Brady! Tell me right now or I’m gonna go back over there and let them have their way with me.”

  Brady snorted. “You can’t even stand. Exactly how do you plan to sacrifice yourself if you can’t move?”

  “I can crawl,” I said, rolling forward to place my palms threateningly on the floor.

  With a put-upon sigh, Brady rolled his eyes and pushed me back against the locker. “Fine. I was just wondering if she’d seen something in Trace’s dreams that made her dislike you. You know she’s always had a thing for him.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “I know, but whatever Trace might’ve felt for me is gone. She has nothing to fear from me and I’m sure she knows that.”

  But, oh, how I wished she did! Oh, how I wished he still loved me.

  “You don’t seriously believe that,” Brady said grudgingly.

  “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Have you seen the guy, Peyton? He looks like hammered crap. He’s miserable.”

  “Well, maybe that has something to do with his parents, because it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “You just keep telling yourself that,” he muttered.

  “Since when are you on his side? I thought it was your goal in life to make sure he never came near me.”

  Brady shrugged, unwilling to meet my eyes. “He obviously makes you happy. You shouldn’t be miserable just because I don’t like it. What kind of brother would I be if I let my preferences stand in your way?”

  “Um, the kind you’ve been since, like, birth,” I half teased.

  At that Brady looked at me, his expression wounded. “That’s just wrong, P! You don’t really think I’m like that, do you?”

  I smiled warmly at my brother. “No, I don’t really think you’re like that. Not deep down. But you can be an a-hole sometimes.”

  “Eh, not very often,” he joked right back.

  The bell rang and, within seconds, the halls were quiet all around us. It lent a more serious tone to our discussion.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. Things are impossible. I’m not sure how any of us are going to make it out of here alive.”

  “What? When did you become such a pessimist?”

  “I think I’m finally understanding what’s going on. Little by little, I’ve been piecing it together with the help of…whatever it is that has been helping me.”

  “And?”

  “They want me, Brady. And they’ll do anything, hurt anybody, use anybody to get me.”

  “Who?”

  “Whoever is outside this town. Whoever was like us at one time. Whoever this place is protecting us from.”

  “And what would these people want with you?”

  “My power.”

  “What? The ability to see other powers?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I think there’s more to this than what I’ve seen so far.”

  “There must be because I can’t imagine why anyone would go to great lengths to get what you have. I mean, you can barely stand up right now.”

  “I know. I don’t understand it either, but I know I’m right. It’s me they want.”

  Brady shook his head, whether in disbelief or frustration I didn’t know.

  “Well, you’re safe for the moment, but I guess I need to get you home until we can figure out what to do about this.”

  “Home sounds wonderful,” I confessed, feeling better by simply thinking about solitude.

  “Can you walk?”

  I pushed against the floor with the soles of my feet and found that there was a small amount of strength returning to my legs. “With some help, probably.”

  “Come on then,” Brady said, offering me his hand to pull me up. When he did, he looped my arm around his waist and he supported me as I leaned into him.

  “You’re a pretty good brother, you know.”

  “I know,” he said, winking down at me.

  We had made it to the doors leading out into the foggy morning when I began to feel a suffocating haze fill my mind. I seemed to be absorbing it from the air around me, like I was inhaling the fog that hovered over the ground. I felt it seeping into my head, in through my pores, permeating my muscles like a paralytic, making it so that I could neither think clearly nor move easily. When my feet began to drag along, Brady stopped, looking down at me.

  “What is it? I thought you could walk.”

  “Something’s wrong,” I said breathlessly, the two words taking a tremendous effort to form.

  Before Brady could speak, doors flew open and people started to filter out into the quad where we’d stopped. They were all wearing their second nature like new clothes—proudly, openly. And they were all coming after me.

  They were all so agitated and I was already so weak that when their power hit me, it struck like a runaway bull, crushing everything in its path. And, in this case, I was in its path.

  My blood boiled with the memories of a thousand years of mutation. My head spun with the power of a heritage gifted with abilities from the gods themselves. I felt the delicate balance of retaining myself and standing strong in the face of the onslaught versus crumbling beneath the weight of it all tip in a devastating way. And the fall-out was immediate.

  I felt as though every cell in my body was flying apart, breaking away from the glue that held me together. It was like shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, but not dying. I was very much alive to feel and experience the entire scene, minute by excruciating minute.

  It was overwhelming. It was agonizing. But it was also invigorating. The combination stole my breath. And then it began to steal my life as well.

  As if he was miles away, I heard Brady growling at the throng that had descended upon us, but I could tell that they weren’t paying attention. They were still coming, still attacking, though they had yet to lay a hand on me. They didn’t have to. They had only to be near me and the effect was devastating.

  I felt Brady’s strong hands pull ineffectively at my arms, tugging and grabbing, but it was no use. It was as though he were a child trying to give me assistance. Even his strength was insignificant in the face of such raw power.

  “Peyton, I can’t move you!” he yelled, rising panic evident in his voice. I thought absently that, if somehow I were to survive, maybe he’d take me a little more seriously next time. �
�You have to try to help me! I can’t move you on my own.”

  At his urging, I focused every ounce of energy I had left into pushing out with my mind, with my body, with my sheer will. But, again, it was no use. I was helpless against them. And, at this point, so was Brady.

  As I shrank bonelessly to the ground, I looked up at all the faces crowding in around me and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want them to be the last thing I saw. I wanted to choose something from my memory to focus on. So I pulled out a picture of Trace smiling at me, one of his mischievous grins that did funny things to my stomach. Even in my current state, I felt the corners of my mouth twitch in response to the vision. His effect on me was that powerful.

  It was then, in that state of semi-catatonia, that I saw it. Or, rather, him. If it’s possible to see death coming for you in a truly literal sense, that’s what I saw.

  I was in the clutches of some of the most horrific pain I had ever experienced when a dull void seemed to sweep me up and lift me out of my body to hover about three feet above it. My perspective was the same for several seconds—the faces of my peers that I’d closed my eyes against only minutes before. When I realized what had happened, though, realized that the world seemed a bit more distant than it had a few moments before, I looked down. That’s when I saw him.

  He looked exactly like the cliché images of the Grim Reaper that I’d seen in dozens of movies. He was at least ten feet tall and draped in an inky black, hooded cloak that obscured most of his face. What little I could see was decidedly masculine. And very intimidating. Add to that the fact that he wielded a wicked looking scythe with a razor sharp blade that flashed in the bright morning light and you had someone who could terrorize even the hardest of hearts.