Successor

I stare at her for a long moment, dazed. “We’re home.”

  On my next breath, it’s as if a sudden, gaping hole opens in my chest, swallowing my heart and lungs until I can’t breathe. A sob erupts from my throat, followed by a second and a third until it all blends together, and there’s nothing but ringing in my ears. Leila’s arms come around me as I collapse to the floor, and I fall into her as reality crashes down on me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leila pulls under the eave connecting my house to the garage and puts the car in park. We sit in silence, both of us staring through the windshield into the backyard. When I was younger, I had a big trampoline back there. Then I hit high school, and Dad took it down. He said it was for kids, and I didn’t need it anymore. The yard still looks empty without it.

  Leila shifts in her seat. I can feel her eyes on me. Right now it’s all I really feel.

  “Hey.” Lei’s voice is quiet. I look at her. “You okay?”

  My eyes drift after a moment, unfocused. They probably look dead. I shake my head, the movement so slight it may not look like I’m doing it at all. “No.” I look out the windshield again. Maybe my father should plant a tree in the backyard or something. At least then it wouldn’t look so bare. “Not tonight.”

  “I can stay.”

  Lightning flashes somewhere in the distance, illuminating the backyard with its wet sheen from the storm. There are still divots in the ground where the trampoline used to stand.

  “No.” My jaw tightens and I look back to her. “I have a few things to discuss with my father.”

  Her brows draw together. “You sure?”

  I nod. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

  “Okay.” She sags into her seat a little. She looks exhausted. “Call if you need me.”

  I reach across the center console, and she meets me for a hug. “You too.” We release each other, and as I open the door and step out, Lei’s voice stops me.

  “Hey Ev?” I lean down and peer in at her. She’s biting her lip. “Give him a chance to explain, okay? You don’t know anything for sure yet.”

  She knows me too well. My lips press into a thin line before I straighten, shutting the door. She backs down the driveway and into the street, giving me a wave before driving away. Thunder rumbles in the distance as I turn toward the house. With a deep breath, I set my shoulders and head inside.

  The kitchen is dark except for the dim light coming from the family room beyond the dining area. My approaching footsteps are too quiet to catch my father’s attention, who sits in his recliner with his stocking feet crossed on the foot rest. He’s awake, watching some old black and white western on his flat screen on the far side of the room.

  “Dad.” My voice breaks through the relative quiet.

  “Hey, Evs.” His head angles toward me, his eyes on the screen. “I thought you were spending the night at Leila’s.”

  I stand in silence, my mind blank as images from the TV flicker nonstop across his face. Then it dawns on me.

  Nothing here has changed. It’s the same as when I left.

  Yet my entire life has changed—I’ve changed. Being here, after everything I’ve gone through, makes it seem like none of it was real. It was a dream. Nothing I did matters.

  My palms start to tingle, and my hand turns toward the TV. The volume blares at a deafening level, and my father jumps in his recliner. He yells and scrambles for the remote on the table next to him. He aims it at the TV, stabbing a button and sending the room into silence.

  He mutters, “What the hell was—?”

  “Dad,” I say again, my tone stern and laced with the anger coursing through me.

  His head whips toward me, seeming to remember me, and freezes. His eyes widen as he looks me up and down, taking in my wet hair and soaked clothes from the clan. I can imagine what I look like with my collection of cuts and bruises everywhere.

  His gaze returns to mine, stunned. “Evan?”

  I reach up to the chain around my neck and pull out the pendant from inside my top, letting it hang for him to see. “We need to talk.”

  He stares at the small triangle before recognition, then resignation, take over his features. His gaze meets mine again, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “It’s happened.”

  My jaw ticks. I let the pendant drop, not bothering to hide it, and I shake my head in disbelief. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  With a nervous look he reaches down to the recliner’s handle and lowers the footrest, setting his feet on the floor. He swivels the chair toward me and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, twisting his hands together in front of him. This is a conversation he’s been expecting, and clearly dreading, to have. “She asked me not to—your mother.”

  “And you didn’t question it?” I ask, incredulous. Tears of frustration blur my vision, and I practically shout, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”

  “Some, yes.” He looks down at his hands, rubbing them together. “Sianne made me give her my word. She knew she wouldn’t survive having you, not when she was so weak from being here for so long. She made me promise to keep your heritage from you and give you that piece when your assimilation was close.”

  “How could you possibly know when it would happen?”

  He shakes his head, his brows pulling together. “She said it would happen when you were around this age, but she didn’t know exactly when. Once you started showing the signs, I would know it was time.”

  I frown. “What signs?”

  “You started talking in your sleep. Yelling, actually. In a different language. After you turned seventeen, you were doing it every night.” The lines around his eyes and mouth are more pronounced than before. “A part of me hoped nothing more would come of it.”

  “It was a vain hope.” My voice trembles a little. “It doesn’t matter if you gave your word or not. My mother was from another dimension. As my father, you owed me the truth.”

  His hands still. “Would you have believed me?”

  When I start to reply, I stop short. I was a different person when this all started, though here it was just a few hours ago. Could I have believed something so crazy without experiencing it first?

  “I don’t know.” I walk into the room and sit on the chair across from him, leaning over my knees like him. “At least I would’ve had some idea of what was happening. But I had nothing.”

  “She said once your assimilation took place, the Link would explain and you would understand everything.”

  I scoff. “I’m sure it would have—if the assimilation hadn’t failed.”

  “Wait.” He frowns. “What do you mean? You have it now, don’t you?”

  “Now, yeah. But the Link deflected because I wasn’t ready for it. I was holding a fortune-telling ball Leila gave me, and it went into that instead. One minute I’m having this weird seizure, and the next I’m in a different dimension.” My irritation comes out in a huff. “A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t understand. She said as long as you had that pendant, the assimilation would succeed.”

  “I needed to be wearing it.” I take the pendant in my fingers and watch as the circuits of color race along the interwoven lines. The chain pulls at the back of my neck as I lift it for my father to see. “Do you know what this is?”

  “No.” He leans back, resting his hands on the chair’s padded arms. “Sianne said she couldn’t tell me. She had it on her at all times, but back then it was some kind of seashell. She made me watch her put it away in a box one day and seal it. She gave it to me and said once you started showing the signs, I was to open it and see what form it had taken. At first I thought she was kidding, but I’d seen what she could do with water, so I realized anything was possible.”

  “Nothing is impossible.”

  “When I opened the box, I wasn’t sure what I’d find. It still amazes me the pendant was in there instead of the shell. She told me when I gave it to you, I s
hould give it some kind of meaning that would resonate with you.”

  I recall his explanation of what the triangle symbolized. “Music.”

  “Yes, music.” He pulls in a quick breath. “She also asked me not to tell you it was from her. She thought you might be angry with me for not giving it to you sooner and reject it, and it was imperative you accepted it.” He shakes his head, probably at himself. “She never said you needed to wear it.”

  I let the pendant drop again and scratch my brow, more out of frustration than anything. “I’ve had so many truths kept from me over the last few weeks. I’m not sure I can take any more.” Exhaustion hits me when I look at him. “Please tell me there’s nothing else.”

  “Weeks?” The skin on his forehead pulls up, like a sudden facelift. “What are you talking about?”

  A droll look is the best I can manage. “I’ve been gone, if you haven’t picked up on that.”

  “No, I know.” His head shakes, his eyes narrowing, looking a little lost. “But weeks?”

  “Mom didn’t tell you about the whole time-travel thing?”

  “She did.” He hesitates, absorbing the fact I’ve been gone for so long and he was completely unaware of it. He frowns. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it since.”

  “I could’ve returned then instead of coming back now, but I didn’t want you or Leila’s family to worry when we went missing.”

  His brows shoot up higher this time. “Leila went with you?”

  “Not on purpose. We were touching when the rift opened, so she got pulled through with me. I wish she hadn’t because she was sick the entire time and almost got killed.” I look down at my hands. There’s dirt under my fingernails and in the lines on my palms. “But in a way, I’m glad she was there. She helped keep me sane.”

  “What do you mean she almost got killed?” Alarm fills him, his shoulders tensing. “What happened?”

  “Now that I think about it, there were a couple of times. It was a few for me, at least.” I frown. How many times did we almost die, anyway?

  “Evangeline.” The anger in his voice makes me look up. “What happened?”

  I sigh. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have all night.” His gaze fixes on me.

  “Well I don’t.” Exhaustion seeps into my bones, weighing me down. “I’ve had a long few weeks, and I just want to shower and sleep for another week.” His anger builds, and I add, “Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m okay and so is Leila. We’re both fine. There’s no need to freak out over it.”

  “You’re fine?” He gapes at me. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  Thankfully, no. I know I must look awful, but it’s all superficial. Given everything, inside and out, I could be in a lot worse shape.

  “I’ll heal. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  He shakes his head, his mouth puckering like he wants to reprimand me for whatever it is I’ve been up to. What he would do if he knew the truth.

  “Just trust me, okay? I’m fine. I just need to rest.”

  He lets out a deep, agitated breath and slaps his hands on the tops of his thighs. “Okay. You win—for now. We’re going to talk in the morning, though.”

  “Fine.” How did I become the bad guy here? I stand and start toward the stairs.

  “Evan?”

  I stop and turn. “What?”

  My father gets up from his chair and walks to me. He pulls me into an unexpected hug. I stiffen.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” The roughness to his voice vibrates through me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I really am.”

  “I know.” I don’t hug him back.

  ****

  “What about this one?” Leila’s wearing a long, platinum blonde wig with chunky layers and angled bangs. She turns her head one way then another, narrowing her eyes and hollowing her cheeks in a model pose.

  I smirk. “You look like you belong in a music video.”

  She smiles. “Sweet.” She turns to the full-length mirror behind her and examines her reflection, fussing with the bangs.

  I return to picking through the baskets of random toys and party favors. I don’t know why she wanted to come to a party store to look at wigs, but I stopped asking questions with her a long time ago. She can find a way to rationalize almost anything.

  “Wouldn’t you rather get a wig that could pass as real hair?” There’s a bin of squishy, glitter-filled gel tubes. I hold one up and frown. “What is the point of this? This thing breaks and it’ll make a nasty mess.”

  Leila twists to look at the wig from the back. “Maybe it’s supposed to work like a stress ball or something.” She turns to me with a devious glint in her eye. “You could poke a few pinholes in it and hide it under your dad’s pillow.”

  I sniff. “That’d go over well.”

  “Things a little better with you two now?” She pulls a vibrant, curly red wig from the shelf and looks it over.

  The morning after Leila and I returned, my father and I sat down at the kitchen table and talked. He hadn’t slept the whole night, and he ended up taking a sick day from work. I told him what happened on the other plane, though I glossed over a few details. He asked a lot of questions, especially about some of the people he’d heard about from my mom. She definitely didn’t spare any details about Taustin. My dad’s face turned red, and his hands balled into fists at mention of the name. He was glad the Laraek don’t have to deal with him any longer.

  When I told him about learning to use a staff, he said Ren’s name sounded familiar. I explained who he was and what had happened to his family during Taustin’s raid. My father was silent at first, and when I asked him about it, he said my mother had spoken of Ren once or twice. He hadn’t heard the name in so long, he’d forgotten about it. Of all the people she had to leave behind, Ren was the one she’d worried about most. I said she’d be proud of the man he’s turned into.

  I don’t know what I said or how I looked when I spoke of Ren, but my father had this look on his face like he wanted to say something. In the end, he nodded and smiled, relieved everything turned out well.

  That was three weeks ago. Granted, things between us were better after we talked, but I hadn’t exactly forgiven him at that point. I still haven’t. But each day gets a little better than the one before.

  “Yes and no.” I toss the gel tube back into the basket. “I haven’t really seen him much since I started working on the trailer score. But at least now I don’t have to worry about blowing the TV speakers whenever he’s watching it.” My anger management skills have been lacking since I got back.

  “Are you working on it from home, or is the company letting you use one of their booths?”

  A heaping bin of keychains sits next to the gel tubes. I comb through them, plucking out a random one here and there. “Home. I told them I have some editing software I play around with, so they said to use it since I know it.”

  A few days after I got back, I received a call from a music production company I’d applied to for an internship. They wanted me to go in for an interview. I sat on the phone without saying anything, having completely forgotten I’d applied. When realization hit, I waited for excitement to set in. But it never came. Instead, a weight pulled down on my shoulders. The interview and all the potential it held was another representation of the person I used to be.

  My passion for music hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s stronger than ever. If I were to try hard enough, I’m sure I could create melodies right from the air. Pull from the sounds around me and meld them into something completely my own. The power of sound courses through every inch of me, filling my body and mind to the point where I’m not sure how I’m able to keep it all in. It makes the idea of sitting in front of a computer and audio equipment a bit…mundane.

  Still, I went to the interview and put on the most enthusiastic façade I could manage. Rob, one of the head producers and my interviewer, said he was impressed with my sample, as were a few o
f the other producers at the company. The interview was rather brief, and a few days later he called me back for a second. Two executives sat in, and after ten minutes of asking me about my interest in the company, they decided to put my skills to the test. They gave me a week to score a minute-long teaser trailer for a movie the company had previously worked on. When I asked what feel they were going for, all they said was “Surprise us.”

  “Awesome.” Leila puts the red wig back. “Did you send it in yet?”

  “I emailed it to them this morn…” The word dies on my lips, my gaze glued to the bin of keychains in front of me.

  “Ev?” Leila touches my shoulder. “You okay?”

  With a careful hand, I reach into the bin and pull out the keychain that caught my eye.

  A fortune ball. Shrunk down, its message window on one side, the blockish number on the other.

  The small piece of black and white plastic hangs from my fingers. I stare at it.

  Leila laughs. “Go figure.” When I don’t reply, she says, “Hey.” She plucks the keychain away and dangles it in front of her. “Talk to me.”

  My gaze returns to the bins of random junk. “Nothing to talk about.”

  She sighs and the keychain lands back in the bin. “Still no word from the Link, huh?”

  I shake my head, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. “Not yet.”

  When I first got back, it didn’t take long to realize something was off. I hadn’t heard the Link since we came through the rift, and I didn’t know what to make of it because I could still feel it in my mind. My questions were answered with silence.

  My father told me the same thing had happened to my mother. When she first arrived, she started hearing the Link less and less until it went silent altogether. She figured it had something to do with this dimension. Since elementals aren’t a natural occurrence here, the Link must have gone dormant until it would be needed again. She still had control over water, but the Link remained silent. My father said she did her best to adjust, but the loss had been hard on her. He thinks the stress of it may have made her more susceptible to the traveler’s sickness in the end.