“So far so good. Scar says he’s running around in the forest, working off some steam.”
Phil talked casually like Nicholas was out doing his usual workout, completely ignoring the fact Nicholas—the love of my life—suffered alone.
“Oh,” I mumbled, my face crestfallen. “Is that good?”
“Well . . . the fact that he’s not committing mass casualties is positive. Look . . . he needs to work out his anger where he can break stuff and yell. The forest is a good place to do that.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Phil felt more assured this time and I tried to take that as a good sign. Before I knew it though, we were off again, me and my dark Superman zipping along in the night sky.
“Once we get the address, how long will it take us to fly to L.A.?” I asked in his ear.
“You never whisper anything sexy,” he said with a pouty face.
I punched his arm. “Stop. I’m being serious.”
“Okay, Miss Serious. An hour or so,” he finally said with a grin in his voice. “Happy?”
“Yes.”
Our plans seemed too easy. We’d fly to Orange County, warn Harry, then jet home, all before daylight. The worst that could happen would be Phil running into the vamps there and having to abort the plan. “She’s still going to be escorting you at school tomorrow, you know,” Phil said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Who? Scarlett?” I huffed. “No-o,” I said in a whine.
“She’s the only one who can. Nicholas totally wants to get you alone. Don’t think he doesn’t have motive to either turn you or just bite you for food.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” I snickered in disbelief.
“You don’t want to become like me. I promise.”
“You’re like a walking billboard against the lifestyle: ‘Besides the sunlight, being a vampire sucks,’ ” I said with a Transylvanian accent, busting up laughing at my play on words.
“Cute, Parker,” he said. “You should go into advertising.”
I stuck out my tongue.
Just like before, when we arrived, Phil scanned the area before touching down.
“It’s clear,” Scarlett said, running underneath us towards the house.
“Whoa there, Betty Page, this is my job,” I barked. “You two stay outside.”
She turned and hissed slightly, but sat on the top step. I marched past her and walked to the door, turning the knob. But the knob didn’t turn.
“Key’s under the flower pot,” Scar said it in a flat tone.
I wanted to ignore her but the impulsive “thank you” squeaked from the lips of my mind anyway. I wasn’t sure if she actually heard it though, since her emotions were dead to me in her cat form.
The quiet of his house eerily surrounded me as I walked in and shut the door, glancing around. The guitar was gone, along with the love song on the table. In the ceiling, the hole where a skylight used to be was covered with a blue tarp revealing Phil’s escape the night before.
The gesture, no matter how minute, showed he wasn’t completely gone and cared about the small things, like water and other damage to his place.
I naturally gravitated to his dresser only to find clothing. I took out his blue shirt—my favorite—and smelled the fabric, rubbing the cottony goodness against my cheek. He always looked so handsome in this color, one that naturally brought out the viridian flecks in his eyes. I could see him in my mind the last time he wore it—on our beach—telling me about how he once used his powers to paddle faster so some local wouldn’t steal his wave. I smiled at how real the vision felt, being intoxicated by his scent.
“Julia, you need to hurry,” Scarlett warned.
I snapped out of my daydream and snarled, noticing her kitty face peering at me through the window. Would it be so bad if he showed up now? Reluctantly, I got back to work and headed towards his bed, which had nothing under it.
Nicholas’ house was very immaculate but empty, almost like a summer rental. Nothing lined the counters, no pictures decorated the walls, very few dishes or even food was stored in the cabinets. The bathroom only had basics: toilet paper, razors, shaving cream, soap, toothpaste and a solitary toothbrush. It was as if he’d packed up everything that wasn’t a necessity, preparing to move soon.
I sat on the bed and sighed, feeling defeated. I’d failed to find anything with even his name or address on it. His desk had pens, paper and a small empty filing cabinet. His trash basket was empty too. The last place to check was his nightstand.
I grabbed the handle on the drawer and tugged, finding it stuck. I yanked harder and the drawer tumbled free onto the floor with a clunk. Well, two clunks actually.
I picked up the drawer and shook it. Something shifted, like there was a secret compartment inside. But when I ran my hand along the seam, there wasn’t any way to pry it open. Tempted to bust the drawer in two, I turned it over. Underneath, two small diagonal cuts dissected the groove the drawer slid against. The wood was darker and worn between them. I ran my finger over the groove when the area depressed inwards.
Like magic, a panel on the inner side of the drawer popped open, releasing the hidden contents that fell to the floor. I froze at the discovery. Lying at my feet were some letters addressed to Nicholas, official documents, some bills, and a journal.
My hand gravitated towards the letters, opening the first one. Inside, the words were unfamiliar, decorated with accents and tildes. I recognized the syntax and guessed the language to be Vietnamese. My heart quickened as I turned over the envelope for the return address, which was blank.
Full of disappointment, I flipped through a few more of the letters hoping one would list where it came from, the ink over the stamp displaying Orange County. The bills gave no clues either and were due the next month: gas, water, and electricity. He’d paid them all on time the month prior. I opened another document to find the deed to a house. The buyer was “Clint Eastwood” with an Orange County address. My hands began to shake once I realized the house belonged to Harry. I almost bolted off the floor and out the door with my fantastic find when my eye caught the journal.
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to violate his private thoughts. I grazed the leather cover with my fingertips, wanting to use osmosis to pull the feelings from the silent cover. The strap prevented it from accidentally opening when everything fell to the floor.
“I love you,” I whispered, caressing the cover. “Come back to me, please.”
I turned on my phone, plugging in Harry’s address for the directions and quickly shut it off, hoping it didn’t alert my dad. Then I shoved everything back into the drawer, kissing the top of the journal before placing it back into its home when I noticed a corner of a picture peeked out between the pages. Half in hesitation, I delicately worked the picture free, to find a candid photo of myself, one I’d never seen before.
The shot was a close-up of the side of my face turned downward, looking at something unseen with the wind blowing back my hair, the sun shimmering on my blonde-locks. I couldn’t be sure, but I must have been standing on the cliff overlooking our beach. But my hair was longer, meaning the picture was taken last summer, before I’d chopped several inches off: before we’d ever met. I gasped.
“Are you done yet?” Scarlett asked, her voice laced with impatience.
“Almost, give me a second.” I replied sharply. “Geez.”
I stared at the photo a little longer. Nicholas must have wanted this picture an awful lot to risk having something tying us together in his possession. I ran my fingers over the top then flipped it over to find “absolutely breathtaking” written on the back. My stomach flip-flopped at the words, taking my own breath away.
All I wanted was to stay there, crawl up into his comforter and wait for him to come home. I didn’t need to go run off to L.A., or do anything else. The key to breaking Nicholas’ addiction was me and our love, plain and simple, and I no longer wanted to be part of the Phil and Scar duo. I almost kicked off my shoes
when Phil opened the door.
“Did you get the address?” he asked, looking at me peculiarly, possibly because I was taking so long.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, giving up on my heavenly dream.
I stuffed everything away and scanned the room one last time, feeling very nostalgic about Nicholas and his supposed home, simple yet barren. Even here, where he should be able to be himself, he stayed distant with nothing to cling to. His personal effects lay hidden in a little eight by ten box from his enemies—from me. His only decoration, a picture of his (thought to be) deceased mother showed the reality of what he really wished for. I welled up at the thought and brushed my hand against his pillow, on my way out.
My heart hung heavy in my chest as I left his house, following behind Phil, hoping I could change his paradigm and give him something more than a façade of a life, knowing if I failed, I’d lose him forever to the dark side.
“Are we leaving?” I asked Phil, pulling out my hat and gloves, wrapping the scarf tightly around my neck.
“Cute,” Phil said, his eyes flickering up at my hat. “You got it?”
Phil radiated concern but stayed silent, wrapping me within his arms, preparing for take-off.
“Oh.” I reached in my pocket for the slip of paper on which I’d written Tyler’s address on and turned towards Scarlett. “Can you check on Tyler for me? Katie’s bent on recruiting him to be her bloodsucking boyfriend.”
“Where?” she asked.
I read the address to her, realizing without hands, holding the paper wasn’t actually feasible.
“I know where that is. I’ll check on him,” she said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”
I stood there—watching Scarlett twitch her tail gently—still afraid to let her inside my head, but something tore at me, wanting me to let my guard down. The long day of agonizing over Nicholas and keeping up a bristly exterior against her, exhausted me. It seemed convenient to blame her for everything but I finally started to realize she’d only tried to protect the both of us from the inevitable: a truth I wanted to refuse existed.
We’ll find him and bring him home,” she said full of empathy.
I melted at her words. “Thanks.”
She purred happily and pounced off into the bushes. Phil turned and smiled. “Good to see you two getting along.”
I smirked. For now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I brought you something,” Phil said, producing an oversized backpack of some sort, layered in straps and buckles.
I wrinkled up my nose. “What’s that?”
“It’s what parachuters wear when they jump tandem. Thought it might help for the trip.”
I looked at the complicated webbing attached to the metal contraption. “Do you know how to put it on?”
Apprehension sprung from his pores, revealing he had no clue what he was doing.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping into two of the holes, shimmying the harness up his legs. He fed his arms through two other loops and clipped the buckle into place. The part my body might possibly fill hung partially behind and in front.
“Where do I go?’
Phil’s eyebrows pressed together as he tried to get the remaining straps untangled and opened far enough for me to climb in. I suddenly didn’t feel comfortable being strapped into this web-like labyrinth.
Walking over to him, I batted my eyelashes. “Do you really think we need this? I was hoping you’d just hold me close to you in the air.”
Shock and happiness rang from his body, beaming outward like a beacon, energizing his eyes.
“Oh,” he said in elation. “I—I guess I could. Sure. Let’s go.”
The harness fell to the ground the instant he grabbed my waist and swooped me off my feet, launching us briskly into the air.
I finally exhaled, happy to be on our way and curled in the natural curve of his shoulder, feeling a rush when our bodies moved from a vertical angle to a horizontal one from the wind pressing our legs up and back, both of us looking down upon the city.
“Remember the first time we did this?” Phil snorted, holding my waist firmly. “You totally hated it and screamed the whole time.”
I laughed at the memory, enjoying the wind ruffling the hair poking out around my hat. “I guess I did.” I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye. “But you freaked the crap out of me.”
“I was a recent aviator back then. I’ve since mastered the art.”
“I would hope so. But where are the drinks? The snacks? The in-flight movie?”
Phil made a crackling sound with his mouth, like a walkie-talkie. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for choosing Phillip D’Elia Air. Please keep your hands inside the vehicle and your seatbelt fastened at all times. I also highly recommend you don’t wander about the cabin either. In case of a water landing—once you’ve stopped screaming of course—please use your neighbor as a flotation device. We are now at cruising altitude and it looks like smooth sailing from here on out.”
Phil suddenly started wiggling his body erratically. I shrieked and dug my nails into his arms.
“Whoa, please remove your talons. I was joking.”
I eased up for a second after he stopped jerking about. “What was that?”
“Turbulence, of course.”
I elbowed Phil in the chest. “Knock it off. That’s not even funny!”
Phil burst into laughter so hard his whole body shook.
“Shut up,” I said, crossing my arms over the top of his, fuming but wishing he’d hold still. “It’s not like I have a parachute.”
“I would never let you fall, Parker,” he whispered in my ear, his lips grazing my skin, kissing my temple. “Ever.”
His immense devotion zinged through my body and I shivered. For a moment—though we didn’t speak—our bodies chemically responded, igniting a blazing heat between us, producing warmth as if we stood next to a camp fire. I didn’t mind actually. The temperature noticeably dropped as we ascended, leaving the exposed parts of me defenseless against the elements.
“How much longer?” I asked with chattering teeth, pulling my sweatshirt hood up over my pink hat to insulate my head, hoping for a break from the frigid wind. Somehow, over the last half hour, Phil stopped radiating the heat back to me. He pressed his cheek against mine and I pulled away when it felt like ice. “Ack! Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “My body temperature acclimates to the climate. We’ll be there soon though. Hang in there”
“W-what else am I going to do?” In complete misery, I waited, wishing for one warm spot to cling to, rubbing my gloved hands together and blowing on them. Each inhale froze my nostrils, making breathing painful. I shifted, curling into a fetal position, feeling the icy blast shoot air through my jacket across my neck and shoulders. I anguished when I thought of the return flight home.
“H-h-hot ch-ch-chocolate,” I murmured. “Hot c-coffee, camp f-f-fires, the s-s-sun.”
“Are these your wishes?”
“Y-y-yes. Nothing against the acc-c-c-commodations, but I’m officially a p-p-popsicle now.”
Phil chuckled before descending and the air changed, feeling a tiny bit warmer. “Isn’t hypothermia fun?”
“A-a-awesome. Are we there yet?”
The heightened alarm from Phil and general unhappiness from the city hit me like a sonic boom. I rolled over so my stomach faced downward again and looked for identifiable landmarks.
“So where do I go?” Phil asked.
I took off the glove to fumble for the directions in my pocket. My numb fingers made grasping the paper difficult. The first attempt revealed an old chewing gum wrapper.
“Okay, we need to follow the 110 and get off at 108th Street.”
Phil guffawed. “How am I supposed to tell where the 110 is?”
“Didn’t you live here once?”
“Yeah, but without signs, I don’t know all the freeways. Los Angeles is huge, as you can see.”
“Well, what’s that freeway below us?” I pointed to the shining row of headlights roaming like ants headed towards their home up the mountain slope.
“Um . . . it could be the 405, the 110, the 710 or the 605. I can’t be sure.”
“Argh,” I groaned. “Then get closer so we can read the signs.”
“I can’t. If they sense me, it’ll be all over once we touch ground. We need to drop in without alerting anyone—including humans, remember?”
“Oh, right,” I said tersely, looking at the ground. “So how far above ground do we need to stay?”
“Well, like a mile or so.”
“So, if you can’t fly lower and I don’t have a map, what are we supposed to do?” My frozen mind wouldn’t work to help me solve the puzzle.
“Doesn’t your phone have GPS?” he asked, feeling ingenious.
“Yeah, but my dad’s monitoring the GPS.”
“That too?” Phil coughed. “Geez, Parker, what did you do to get on his bad side?”
“Hung out with you and got called into the principal’s office when you disappeared. Before that, I didn’t need constant watching,” I huffed with malice.
Phil wasn’t going to pin all the blame on me for my father’s over-protectiveness when he started the snowball of mistrust in the first place.
“Well, we have one thing on our side. Right now, he thinks you are very sick and in bed sleeping.”
“I’m not if I turn it on,” I said indignantly. “He’ll know.”
“But, I’m pretty sure he’d have to be monitoring the website at the time you do turn it on.”
“But what if it keeps track somehow?”
“Electronics can go haywire, especially if you magically showed up in Los Angeles when he knew you were upstairs sleeping. Just lie about it.”
Lying got me in all this trouble in the first place. “Can’t we ask for directions?” I asked.
“Not unless you want to fly somewhere remote and get a map.”
Somewhere remote meant more time freezing and I had to defrost before I started losing limbs.
“Fine,” I said, too cold to fight. “I’ll just tell him something’s wrong with my phone and it’s not turning on.”
The Sapphire Talisman Page 18