“October 31st. Why?”
“Halloween?” He laughed. “That’s awesome.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“I want to get you a present of course. Something special. You only turn seventeen once.” He thought about my age for a moment. “You skipped a grade didn’t you?”
Ignoring his question I asked, “Are you sure you’re not asking because you’re wondering if it’ll have any effect on what I can do? Or how much time we have before they come looking for me again?”
“Nope,” he said.
“No, you’re not sure, or no, you’re not?”
“No.”
We drove past an old well house, which reminded me of the cellar I had fought Thomas in. My heart started pounding at the memory. Cobb’s desperate eyes filled my thoughts. “Do you ever stop thinking about them?” I asked quietly, finally.
His lips hardened, and his eyes grew distant. He knew I meant the deaths I had caused. “Only when I’m around you. When I’m alone…well, that’s another story. So, no. They never really leave you.”
“I’m afraid because…because….”
“A part of you enjoyed it? You felt righteous when they died?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“I’m not going to gloss over the fact that you killed them, or downplay your role in that, because I know you don’t want me to, and because you wouldn’t listen. I’ve been there. But I will say this. You didn’t kill them in cold blood, Clare. You killed people who were threatening your life and my life. It wasn’t a vengeful slaying. You did take those lives, but you took them because you had no other choice. That’s what distinguishes us from them. We kill when there is no other choice.”
“But a part of me…” I began.
“That’s the part of you that you have to always look at honestly. Keep it to the front of your brain. It will help you know when it’s time to defend yourself or when you are closing in on the boundary of wanton murder.”
“I feel so weak, and vulnerable, and bad, all at the same time.”
I was getting better at sharing the darkest parts of me, at coming clean about my weaknesses. Daniel was very understanding. He’d been through so much in his long years that he didn’t judge me for whatever I said, and that helped.
“You’re the opposite of bad and the epitome of strength. But, it’s okay to feel that way. When I first killed…I felt the same way. Worse actually.”
“Only you didn’t have you for comfort,” I said, realizing how much support I really had.
“I did have me. That was part of the problem,” he said.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. If I’d had you, I would have…” he trailed off, his eyes wistful.
I reached over and took his hand. You have me now.
He squeezed my hand then released it, so he could push the button on his visor. Through the windshield, I saw we were at the black gates to his house. The tires of the car crunched into the gravel as we circled up to the house and parked near the broad front stairs. He helped me out of the car, and we walked up the stairs together. When he shoved the front door open, I got chills.
“Why do you look like we’re stepping into a house laced with explosives?”
“It’s too quiet. Where is everyone?” I tugged at my dress nervously.
“I asked them to leave for a couple of hours, so we could have some privacy.”
“For the surprise?”
“Yes.” His eyes danced with laughter, the seriousness of our prior conversation gone or suppressed.
He pulled me to the stairs to get me walking. We made our way along the stone steps and through another hall, past the library, the home theater on the second floor, and up two more floors of his massive house. Why did this surprise entail climbing all the way to the top of the house? He finally stopped at the bottom of a small set of metal stairs which spiraled up.
“This is my room,” he said. “I want you to shut your eyes.”
“How will I walk up the stairs with my eyes shut?” I said warily. I was hedging a bit, wondering why he was acting so secretive.
“I’ll carry you. Just shut your eyes.”
I clamped my hand over my eyes as verification that I wasn’t peeking. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I was laughing by the time he set me back down.
“Okay. Just one more second.” He checked my hand was still in place.
I heard movement and something being set down. “Can I open them now?”
“Yes.”
I took my hand away. Daniel’s room was circular, the walls made out of glass. I felt, as I turned a complete 360 degrees, like I was in a tower; a tower that was half tree house. The furniture was simple and light, designed for comfort rather than show. I could see Daniel staying up here, finding solace in a life that I knew was full of danger. I could see him reading for hours in the chair by the small fireplace, his strong hands turning the pages as the light danced on his face. Looking at the worn places where books had sat, I knew he had cleaned specifically for this moment. I wished he hadn’t. I’d have liked to see it without the changes.
“This is beautiful,” I said.
“Thanks.” He made an odd throat clearing noise and I turned to face him. That’s when I noticed what he was standing next to. I felt my stomach fill with butterflies. Surely, he hadn’t? “Do you remember saying that you wanted me to have a sap story about the first guitar I bought?”
Oh God…he had.
He reached out and stroked the mahogany guitar I had fallen in love with so many weeks ago. It made a pristine sound as his fingers strummed across the strings. “I figured there couldn’t be anything more sap ridden than the story I’m about to tell…I bought this guitar after running into a very beautiful, amazing woman in a music store. Admittedly, I ran into that woman after searching for her all over town, because I wanted to talk to her again. I bought this the next day, thinking that if I did I could have a part of her near whenever I couldn’t be around her. But I couldn’t play it. I knew I couldn’t keep it to myself.”
He picked up the guitar and held it out for me to take. I stared at him, a dozen reasons for not taking it formed in my mind. The first reason was the most obvious one. “Do you have any idea what this cost?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He stepped closer and forced the guitar into my hands. “When someone who loves you buys you something, it’s not an obligation, Clare. It’s an extension of that love. Besides, I bought it for me originally. You’re getting it secondhand.”
I started laughing. “You knew you would get me with that sap story, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Was it real?”
“Absolutely. I bought it from Martha the morning of our first car lesson.”
“Don’t tell me, you have a tattoo on your wrist as well,” I joked.
Daniel unbuttoned his white dress shirt and held up his wrist. He showed me a small track of writing. “I got this after my first…death. A reminder. It’s his name in Arabic.”
“Why Arabic?”
“Because that was the language he spoke.”
“Oh.”
I looked down at the guitar as an idea formed. “Sit down,” I told him.
He crossed his arms, stuck out his jaw, and did his best impersonation of me. “I don’t like to be bossed around.”
“Oh, hush. Just do as you’re told.”
He bowed extravagantly then went and sat in the comfortable chair near the fire, the one I had imagined him in. Pulling the chair across from him closer, I sat as well. Running through my memory bank of memorized songs, I settled on one he had told me he liked. I started playing, “Tears in Heaven,” by Eric Clapton. My fingers were uncertain at first, but they gained confidence as the notes flowed out the way they were intended. I started to sing along as my confidence grew. His expression transformed from surprise to awe. I smiled around my singing, glad I hadn’t disappointed him.
I realized something as I played. I wouldn’t be a victim again. I would learn to control what was happening to me. I would find answers. I would fight back.
Because what I had was worth fighting for.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
The Watchers Page 31