Successor

  “Do you think it’ll come back?”

  I pull out a pair of plastic glasses with wavy lines for lenses. X-ray glasses, maybe? “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

  “Liar.” Leila snatches the glasses from my hand and puts them on. She points her fingers at me and smiles. “I can see right through you.”

  I pull the glasses from her face and make a show of closing the temples. “I’m serious.” I toss them back in the bin.

  “So am I.” She pulls the blonde wig off, revealing her short hair beneath. She had the ends evened out and wears beanies to hide it whenever possible. She grabs the one she has stuffed in her back pocket and pulls it on.

  My eyes roll up, and I tip my head back to stare at the ceiling, looking for patterns in the holes of the tiles. It’s easy to get lost for hours just staring into space these days.

  “Hey…look at me.”

  I shut my eyes, steeling myself. “What?”

  “It’s okay to be angry, you know.”

  My gaze finds hers. “I’m not angry.”

  “Sure you’re not.” A condescending look.

  “I’m not.”

  “Fine, then. Frustrated, disappointed, upset—however you feel, it’s okay for you to be hurting.”

  “That’s the thing.” The corner of my mouth lifts with my shoulders. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Her brows rise as the corners of her mouth tug down. “Depressed.” She lifts a hand, as if the word is a physical thing to hold. “That works, too.”

  “Don’t pretend you know what it’s like.”

  “I don’t have to pretend anything. You’ve been walking around like a zombie for weeks.”

  I’m not blind to the change. Things that used to capture my interest aren’t as interesting anymore. I sleep a lot more, though at times I wish I didn’t. The dreams I have are vivid. Too vivid. Walking through a forest or staring into a fire, waiting for the flames to take the shape of something different.

  And then there’s the voice calling my name—his voice. I always wake up in a cold sweat with his name stuck in my throat. Sometimes I wish I was incapable of dreaming. And other times I wish I could stay in the dreams forever.

  “I’m adjusting.” I swallow and shake my head a little. “It’s just going to take some time to get back to where I was before.”

  Leila frowns, her brows appearing from under her beanie. “Who says you have to go back to ‘before’?”

  “Being here…‘before’ is the way I need to be.”

  Her brows pull up and in. “You know, here isn’t the only place you can be.”

  “Yes,” I say, adamant. “It is.”

  “No…” she draws out the word. “It’s not.”

  My palms start to tingle, and I squeeze my hands into fists to suppress it. “This is where I belong, Lei. This is where I’m needed.”

  “You’re needed here?” She sounds incredulous. “Why? Because you’re somehow responsible for us?”

  “I—”

  “And who are you responsible for, hmm? Your dad? Me?”

  Frustration stews in my chest, and I start walking down the aisle, putting some distance between us. A few seconds later she grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. I spin around, yanking my arm away.

  She holds her hands up and leans back a bit. “Look, I get it. Okay? I really do.” Her hands drop to her hips, and she sighs at my glare. “But the truth is you’re not responsible for anyone here except you. Ev, we want you here with us, but we don’t need you. I’m not denying you belong here, because you always will.” She hesitates, choosing her next words with care. “But there’s somewhere you belong more—somewhere you’re needed. And I think you know it, too.”

  My stomach clenches, the backs of my eyes start stinging, and I shake my head in small, jerky movements. My face crumples. She can’t say things like that to me. Not now, not ever.

  Her brows drop into a frown of concern, and she pulls me into a hug. “Hey,” she whispers in my ear, squeezing me.

  My arms wrap around her like I’m drowning and she’s a life preserver.

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

  We cling to each other in the middle of the party store, not caring who sees.

  “I love you, you know.” She rubs my back between my shoulder blades. “You’re better than any sister I could’ve asked for.”

  I sniffle, blinking back tears. “I love you, too.” My throat is tight, my words cracking on the way out.

  She pulls away and puts her hands on my shoulders next to my neck. “I want what’s best for you, but it’s not for me to decide what that is. You have to do what’s right for you. Everybody else can handle themselves.” She squeezes my shoulders. “No matter what life you choose, I’ll always have your back.” She smiles. “Even if I’m not there to give you crap for it.”

  I laugh and bite my lip. A tear slips down my cheek, and Leila pulls me into another hug. I cling to her, wanting never to let go.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  C…C…C…

  The empty notebook on the piano’s music rack stares back as I tap Middle C. I’ve spent the last hour waiting for inspiration to strike, watching the sound waves ripple out and dissipate. It’s like drops of water falling into a puddle, one at a time.

  C…

  The block to my creative flow should be frustrating as hell, seeing as I’m practically vibrating with sound waves. I can’t seem to harness them for this, though. Somehow it doesn’t seem right to use an instrument to produce sound anymore, though it’s something I’ve done my entire life. Yet I’m not frustrated. I’m not really anything, I just…am.

  C…

  The kitchen door opens and closes, and footsteps come down the hall into the family room. They stop in the archway, followed by a long moment of silence.

  C…

  “Hey Evs. Any word from the company yet?”

  “No.” My voice is quiet. Distant. “They said I’d hear back today or tomorrow.”

  C…

  “You nervous?”

  I wait for the note to fade away. “No.”

  C…

  He doesn’t respond, and I can almost feel the concern radiating from him. He walks into the room and stops next to me. “What are you working on?”

  My gaze doesn’t move from the blank page in front of me. “Nothing.”

  C…

  He takes a breath to say something, then stops. He sighs instead. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t know what to say, either.

  C…

  “Come on.” He nudges my shoulder with the back of his hand. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s a place I want you to see. It won’t take long.” He nudges me again when I don’t respond. “Indulge your old man for once.”

  My hand lowers to my lap like it has a mind of its own. Why not? It’s not like I’m in the middle of anything important. “Okay.”

  He doesn’t tell me where we’re going. I sit back, not caring about our destination. The truck’s windows are down, the warm summer air flowing around us. It whips strands of hair around my face, tangling them in my eyelashes as I gaze at the countryside. It’s mid-afternoon, but the sun hasn’t descended far from its apex. Everything its light touches is bright and vibrant, full of life and peace. My focus drifts and everything blurs together.

  I used to love going on drives in the country when I was younger. My father would play classic rock songs the entire time. My favorite was the one about a horse in the desert without a name. He’d put it on repeat for me when I asked, even when it was obvious he was tired of listening to it. He’d just smile and push the button.

  Whether we’ve been driving for ten minutes or thirty, I can’t say. When the truck comes to a stop, I’m pulled from my thoughts and look around. I frown.

  We’re parked in front of the abandoned barn.

  “What are we doing here?”

  My father puts the truck in par
k and turns off the engine. He sits back in his seat and gazes out the windshield. “This was where we met, your mother and me. I was out here, taking pictures of the place, when she suddenly popped up in front of me.”

  I study the barn, trying to imagine what it would be like to see someone appear out of thin air.

  “I had a hell of a time getting her to talk. I kept asking her for her name and what she was doing out here, but she wouldn’t answer. I thought maybe she didn’t understand English.” We look at each other and he smiles a little. “It wasn’t that far of a stretch with the way she was dressed and how uneasy she was. When she finally did speak, she said she was processing the language.”

  After my assimilation completed, I learned the Link acts as an internal translator, which allows elementals to understand and communicate with the natives of other planes. For me, being able to understand the Laraek was due to my half-blooded heritage. It seems descending from this plane and that one allows me to understand both without issue. I haven’t used the ability on other languages here, but I imagine it works the same. Needless to say, Leila was annoyed when I told her about it.

  “You can imagine what her story sounded like when I first heard it,” my father says. “When she finally started answering my questions, I tried to convince her to go to the hospital. She had some pretty deep cuts on her arms that needed attention.” He shrugs, lifting his brows. “She refused. Insisted she could take care of them herself, she just needed someplace safe to do it. I tried to explain the hospital was safe.” He leans back in his seat, smiling. “And then she showed me her ability. We skipped the hospital.”

  “What did she do?”

  His gaze drifts off toward the barn. “I had a bottle of water with me. She had me open it and told me to pour it into her hands. No idea why, but I did it anyway.” He looks back to me and shakes his head. “It never touched her.” He holds one of his hands palm-up, cupped. “She had it suspended above her hand, just floating there. I emptied the entire bottle, and not a single drop fell.” He drops his hand to his lap and looks at the barn, shaking his head again as if he still can’t believe what happened.

  The corner of my mouth tugs up the tiniest bit. “So you took her home instead.”

  He nods. “Helped her with her cuts, got her some normal clothes to wear. She told me where she came from and who she was.” He gives me an amused look. “You can imagine my reaction to all of it.”

  “Probably not much different from mine.” I’d been freaked out and intrigued at the same time. It’s not every day you learn about something as amazing as this. How could someone not want to know more? “How long was she here for?”

  “A little over two years. When the neighbors asked about her, I said she was someone I knew from college. Told them she worked from home as a consultant. It was good enough for them.”

  “What did she do all that time?”

  “Read,” he says on an exhale. “Once the Link processed written language, she was always reading, learning as much as she could about this plane. I think she went through the encyclopedias at least twice.” He chuckles at the memory, then quiets, looking somber. “Being here, away from her home—it was hard on her. When she lost touch with the Link, it was like a part of her disappeared. She was never the same after that.” He watches me for a long moment, then frowns. “It worries me because I see the same thing happening to you.”

  My gaze drifts to the barn. The Link is still a part of me, but not being able to hear it has taken its toll. I finally felt whole when the assimilation completed, only to have it taken away when I returned home. It was a sacrifice my mother made. Now it’s my turn, but the adjustment has been far from easy. Everyone keeps waiting for me to go back to the person I used to be, to move on.

  But how do you move on when a part of you has died inside? I’m not the same person anymore. I don’t think I ever will be.

  “It hasn’t been easy.” I look back to him. “I just need to adjust.”

  He glances in the rearview mirror with a mixture of sadness and frustration on his face. After a moment, his expression shifts as his gaze catches on something, and he turns back to me, looking resigned. “You shouldn’t have to.”

  A flash of reflective light from the side mirror catches my eye, and I look out my window. A car pulls up next to us, and I go still, frowning. “What’s Leila doing here?”

  “Your mother sacrificed a lot when she came here. It changed who she was—it made her hollow.” Our gazes meet. “I’m not going to watch it happen to you, too.”

  For the first time in weeks, my heart changes its pace. It beats unevenly for several long seconds, causing heat to fill my chest. When it settles into a rhythm, it’s racing.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you returning to where you belong.”

  My eyes widen, feeling the size of saucers. “I belong here. This is my home.”

  “It’s one of your homes,” he replies. “And it always will be. But you and I both know you’re meant to have a life greater than anything you’ll find here.”

  My head shakes, and I swallow hard around the sudden tightness in my throat. “No, I—” The numbness in me starts to crack apart. “I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

  “Evangeline.” His voice is quiet, and he takes my hand in both of his. “I’ve been preparing for this since before you were born. I tried not to hold on too tightly because I knew it would hurt like hell when I had to let you go. Safe to say my efforts weren’t worth a damn.” He gives me a self-deprecating smirk. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t, but I’ve always known this would happen. It’s hard to accept, but I know this is something you have to do. Letting you go is something I have to do.”

  I start to stutter in protest.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Evan. I’ll miss you like crazy, but I’ll be okay.” He lifts a hand to my cheek and smiles. “I promise.”

  A whimper escapes my throat, and the sound of my phone ringing makes me jump. Frustrated, I dig into my back pocket and pull it out. “Hello?” I answer, my voice rough.

  A man’s voice comes across the line. “Hi, is this Evan?”

  I clear my throat. “This is.”

  “Hi, Evan, it’s Rob with the production company.”

  My stomach drops and my heart races faster. “Hi, Rob. How are you?”

  “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He sounds genuine, his voice bright. “So I wanted to give you a call to let you know we checked out the piece you sent us. I must say, we are all quite impressed with your work. I think with a little more experience at the professional level, you’ll be right where we need you to be. We’d like to bring you on as a paid intern. There’s a new project coming up in the next few weeks, and we’d be interested to see what you can contribute to it.”

  And there it is.

  The next step in my life being handed to me on a silver platter. Most people never get a chance like this.

  So why does my heart feel like it’s fallen out of my chest?

  “Wow, that’s great,” I say, trying to collect myself. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “We did, very much.” His smile is evident in his voice. “So what do you say? Would you be interested in joining our team?”

  My eye catches on Leila as she gets out of her car, and my jaw drops.

  She cut her hair. Short.

  Clipped on the sides and back, the top is longer and layered with bangs sweeping across her forehead over the pair of aviators she wears. She shuts her door and gives me a ghost of a smile, then heads toward the barn without looking back.

  My hand lifts to the pendant around my neck, and I lay it in my palm. The circuits of color race along the interwoven lines, mesmerizing me until the metal starts to heat against my skin. A wave of energy blooms in my chest. It breaks through the numbness that’s held me for so long, scattering its remnants and filling me with something I thought I’d lost—hope.

 
A sharp breath fills my lungs, which feel like they’ve been empty for days. Tears well in my eyes as I look back to my father. He smiles and nods.

  “Evan?” Rob’s voice brings me back to the moment.

  “Sorry, Rob, I’m here.”

  “So what do you think? You game?”

  I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on my father. “Thank you for the offer, but something’s come up. I’ll be leaving town—indefinitely.”

  “Oh,” Rob replies, sounding surprised. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. We would’ve loved to have you on board.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to see me.” My heart is racing, and I want nothing more than to get off the phone.

  “Anytime. I tell you what, if you ever come around this way again, you come see me and we’ll set something up. How’s that sound?”

  “That sounds great. Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Good luck to you.”

  I end the call and drop the phone in my lap, my hands sweating. My father and I stare at each other.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask, my voice wavering as tears brim my lashes.

  He reaches over, putting his palm to my cheek. “I got this, Evs.” He wipes a tear away with his thumb. “And so do you.”

  The rest of the tears spill down my cheeks, and I lean over as we pull each other into a hug. “I’ll miss you, Old Man.”

  His chuckle shakes me. “I’ll miss you, too.” He pulls back and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  I blow out a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”

  He sits back. “Come on. You have a rift to catch.”

  I let out a laugh, and for the first time in a long time, it feels real.

  We get out of the truck, and I wipe my face as I shut my door. We head across the field to where Leila waits by the barn with a grin on her face.

  “What happened to wearing a wig?” I call to her, nodding at her short hair.

  She shrugs, her nose crinkling on one side. “I figure if you’re going to embrace the new you, I might as well embrace the new me, too. Besides”—she lifts a hand to her hair and fluffs the top with her fingers—“I totally own this look.”