The sudden drop in temperature sends shivers over the exposed skin of my neck and face, but I barely register it because I’m mesmerized by the steed. A cloud of white escapes his nostrils.
I take a step closer. All the light seeps from the air. Darkness, matching the steed’s mane, claims the day. “I won’t hurt you,” I promise. “Don’t be afraid.” The beast shifts his weight and flicks his head impatiently. What are you waiting for?
“Grane. It’s you,” I whisper, covering the distance between us. I reach out to his powerful neck. Tight cords of muscle bulge under his hot skin.
He leans in and smells my hair. I know him. He knows me. And he’s not afraid of me at all. With dreamlike ease, I fly up and settle into the saddle on Grane’s back. It fits me like it’s custom-made. I spread myself over Grane and murmur a command in a foreign tongue into his ear. He takes off, flowing above the ground, his knowing legs moving with almost no sound.
We ride. Bursting through the forest, through the thickening fog growing higher and higher and reaching the tips of my boots. We’re swimming in a white river of haze. My mother’s nowhere in sight, but I know where she’s headed. Toward that vast space of burnt ground, a clearing where nothing grows, where fog rules day and night and all the unbound time in between.
Without as much as a pause or a second thought, Grane rushes straight into the heart of that cursed place. There’s a sensation of my lungs shrinking and my heart screaming no, akin to jumping into a freezing pond.
Grane comes to a standstill. Before us, my mother’s figure is twisted by a wild vortex made of fog and darkness. A white raven caws, a sound of desperate need. I watch as Mom’s body loses its shape, shedding particles. As I open my mouth to scream, I’m thrown into my mom’s head. The final moment nears, and I hear her thoughts: I forbid your entry into this world. I will this gateway closed.
Hayden … The forest coughs up my name and I look around. Mom is gone, and the fog keeps on rising. Myriad voices join together, forming a choir of inhuman whispers, their buzzing increasing in volume until they are the deafening roar of a jet engine.
Hayden … Release us.… It’s time.
Only the tips of Grane’s ears are still visible in the tight cloud of whiteness consuming us both. The fog reaches my neck, my chin, snaking its way up my nose, into my lungs. I thrash in the saddle, fighting for breath.
As the fog consumes me, Del’s face, eyes open but unseeing, materializes out of the wall of white. She stares at me in silent accusation and I scream, pulling at Grane’s reins.
* * *
I’m floating in the bath, lukewarm water reaching just above my half-open mouth. Shivering, I jolt upright and spit out water. I must’ve bitten my tongue, because I taste blood. Teeth chattering, I climb out of the tub and pat my body down with a towel. A bitter aftertaste of blood lingers even after I wash out my mouth.
My mind goes over every minuscule detail of my nightmare as I towel-dry my hair with shaky hands and then blow-dry it straight. A scratching sound at the window snaps me out of my reverie. I approach the steam-smeared glass and come face-to-face with a white raven. Hello, old friend. I come closer to the window, expecting the bird to take off, but it stays put, eyeing me with curiosity. I fiddle with the window’s lock, but it’s stuck. The raven and I exchange stares until the bird takes off into the rain, leaving my questions unanswered.
* * *
The rain doesn’t ease all afternoon, so I never go to the blood collection point. Just as I grow restless enough to try my luck on the muddy roads, the Manor’s doorbell sings its old-fashioned tune. I’m caught wearing black jeans and a ruffle-neck green sleeveless top. My heartbeat’s going nuts, and it has nothing to do with Promise and Mom’s secrets. This is it—Del was right—Santiago is here and I’m about to eat my piece of humble pie. Despite my determination not to care, I glance at myself in the mirror, wondering whether Del would approve. On the way down, I grab my leather jacket.
I don’t really expect Shannon to show up, not after our borderline-hostile exchange earlier. But a part of me (yes, the stupid part) hopes he’s here.
Glowing with confidence, our misadventures today clearly pushed to the back of her mind, Del is gorgeous in a tight pink woollen dress. A shiny black belt emphasizes her perfect waist and her vintage tan suede boots (a rare find, according to Del) reach over her knees, accentuating the shapeliness of her long legs.
Del opens the door. I can’t quite hear what she’s saying, but her intonation is of the flirty variety. Santiago swaggers into the house, dragging wet air in with him. I observe his reaction to Del’s goddesslike appearance—his eyes widening in appreciation.
Santiago’s not bad looking himself, I guess. Out of his camo garb, he looks less commando and more Abercrombie & Fitch. Together, Del and Santiago are like gorgeous, fluffed-up birds in the beginning of a courting cycle. Del steps aside as if to let him pass, but Santiago pulls her into a brief hug, almost too intimate. His face brushes against her hair, his mouth sliding down to find her waiting cheek while his lips spread in a knowing smile. I’m blushing but can’t look away. Watching them charge the space around them with thick sexuality makes me wonder if I missed the memo and they’ve actually been going out for some time now.
My fingers curled tight around the staircase rail, I wait. My speeding heartbeat is a soundtrack to my anxiety. When no one follows Santiago into the Manor, I can almost taste my disappointment, sour on my tongue.
I ponder which escape path to take after I do the mandatory hello and how are you. I know Del’s going to insist I come out with them, but I have no interest in being the third wheel.
And then my brain goes into overdrive, because Shannon follows Santiago into the Manor. Shaking water off his jacket, Shannon smiles awkwardly and scans the room, his face tense, cheekbones sharp in the uneven light. When his eyes meet mine, his heavy expression softens and my stomach flips. All’s dizzy in my world for a frustrated moment. Catching me in my most uncontrolled moment, Del turns to look at me, her face saying, Told ya.
I come down to the living room and join them. His arms crossed over his broad chest, Shannon says, “Hayden.” A simple nod. No intimate hugs or kisses-on-the-cheek being given out by him.
Dressed in simple dark jeans, a white tee, and a rain jacket, Shannon seems younger and slightly vulnerable, like that serious boy who still haunts my childhood memories. He says to me, “Hope you don’t mind I came along, especially after…”
“I don’t mind,” I say too fast, and Shannon’s lips almost smile but not quite. How long have we been staring at each other? I realize we’re being watched by Santiago and Del, both looking amused and proud, as if they have accomplished some prize-worthy feat.
The spell broken, Santiago says, “We wanted to show you girls the town. We can start at Tea Salon, and then I thought we’d do something special. Tonight is a good night to get a taste of some local flavor. Thursdays are the most entertainment-filled days of the week around here.” Santiago and Shannon exchange a glance, giving me the impression Shannon’s not a fan of whatever “local flavor” Santiago’s got in mind.
But all my follow-up questions are skillfully dodged by Santiago and shrugged off by Shannon. Del doesn’t fare much better; all she gets out of Santiago is that the “show” is free and guaranteed to elicit shock and awe.
Outside, we are under attack by wind and water. The weather calmed down a little since the freaky afternoon, but the sleeting rain maintains its razor-sharp intensity. Del and I make a dash for the car—a dark-red jeep parked next to our modest rental. Del takes the passenger’s seat next to Santiago, while Shannon holds the door to the back open for me. As I climb in, our hands touch, igniting embers under my skin. I’d like to interpret the look Shannon gives me as full of restless longing—but it’s likely camouflaged annoyance that Santiago dragged him along tonight. I break eye contact with him and ignore the shivers rolling over my body.
I wait for Shannon to settle
next to me so I can ask him what happened to his staying-away-from-Hayden plan, but when he does get close—even with the middle seat empty between us—I tense up and retreat into my personal space. I hope he doesn’t notice the physical effect he has on me. Note to self: Get a grip, weirdo.
I remember I need to ask him about the blood vials and my hope to have them analyzed, but I decide to wait for a better moment, when we’re alone.
* * *
“We got lost in the city today,” Del says while taking in the night views of Promise through the car window. “It was such a weird experience. Like the town didn’t want us to leave.”
“Were you trying to leave?” Santiago doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Yeah, kind of,” Del says.
I stay quiet, but it’s not easy when Shannon’s intense eyes turn on me.
Del goes on, “We had a weird feeling in the Manor and it triggered a moment of panic. It was this primeval fright, almost. Like when you wake up from a nightmare and your blood’s still pumping.” From her measured tone, I know she’s fishing for information.
Shannon stares at me. “You sensed something in the Manor and decided to leave town? What did you feel?”
Santiago laughs. “You girls must’ve been tripping on something.”
“Nope. We’ve just had … a lot of strange things happening.” Del’s about to say more, but I divert the focus back to Shannon and Santiago.
“Is that so surprising?” I ask them. “You two are part of a research station studying weird phenomena here in Promise, aren’t you?”
“Yes and no,” Shannon starts to say.
“Dude, that’s classified!” Santiago shouts.
Shannon goes quiet. I shift closer to him, going as far as the seatbelt allows, and whisper, “Okay, you don’t have to tell me anything that’s classified. I’ll just find out on my own. But the reason we wanted to leave … it’s not just a feeling. There was some stuff I found in the house that upset me.”
Shannon waits for a moment when Del is laughing in response to Santiago, then says, “You broke into your father’s office.” In contrast to my nervous heartbeat, his voice is calm.
“The Manor is legally mine,” I say. “I didn’t break into anything.”
He shrugs. “Your father’s been using the Manor as his personal headquarters for years, so maybe he’s got more rights to be there than you do.”
“Thanks for reminding me that my father’s been secretly coming to Promise for years. I believe I have a right to know what he’s been doing here while he’s been telling me to forget about this place and move on.”
“What are you two fighting about?” Stuck at a red light, Santiago turns to look at us, suspicious.
“Nothing!” we say in unison.
* * *
At night, Tea Salon transforms from a bakery and café into a nightlife hot spot of Promise. Possibly, the hot spot. The aloof staff starts to serve mulled wine and fortified Irish coffee alongside freshly baked scones and muffins, still warm from the oven, all while Lana Del Rey serenades the dark.
As our group gorges on tea and scones, Del proclaims Tea Salon has an identity crisis. Is it a teahouse that also serves liquor, or is it a bohemian bar that masquerades as a café? Either way, the Salon bustles with life. I can’t shake off a feeling that our little group at a corner table gets too many stares, though no one makes direct eye contact with me when I look back.
As the evening unfurls, I swear Santiago’s one step away from dropping all civilized pretences at making a conversation. If it were up to him, he’d just gaze longingly into Del’s eyes for the rest of the night. But Del’s extra cool, taking her I’m-hot-but-detached thing to the master level. Santiago swallows it up. Every time he whispers something to her (which is 90 percent of the time), he leans a little farther into her space, as if her gravitational pull’s too hard for him to resist.
When Santiago and Del do pay attention to me and Shannon, the four of us talk about mundane things like the horrors of bad reality television, the good and the bad of living independently from our families, the latest book-to-movie hype. It’s so pedestrian and I love it. This is what normal must feel like.
We learn that both Santiago and Shannon are saving for college, which makes Del and me feel like a pair of privileged brats, since we won’t really have to work to afford tuition. We also learn that they both had paramilitary training before being hired by Blue Haven Research Institute. When I ask more about the Institute, Shannon and Santiago exchange looks and abruptly change the topic, putting up barbed-wire fences and drawing demarcation lines around their secrets, just like we do around ours.
A light buzzing makes Shannon search for what turns out to be a pager. A pager. I’ve only seen those in decades-old movies. Frowning, Shannon reads the message, then excuses himself to the depths of the café.
Suddenly edgy, Santiago shifts in his seat. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he starts talking about Promise’s freaky weather patterns. He even swears you can see the aurora borealis out here. I find that hard to believe. Watching for Shannon’s return, I say, “Is this freak weather business what your team is here to study?”
“Nice try, Ms. Holland.” Santiago gives me a crooked smile. “We’re not supposed to talk to civilians about what we do in Blue Haven.”
“But I’m not really a civilian,” I say while Del stays oddly quiet, studying Santiago. “I’m Tom Holland’s daughter. And he’s important around here, right?”
“Not going to get into that.” Santiago shakes his head. “Being related to Professor Holland doesn’t guarantee you high-level clearance. Besides, sounds to me like he didn’t want you to get involved in any of this Promise stuff. And it’s probably for a reason.”
“And what reason would that be?”
“How should I know?” His voice turns soft, playful, but I can still hear his message underneath the layers of nice: Back Off.
“Can you at least speculate?”
Del clears her throat and gives me a pointed look. “This is the sound of me getting tired of this pointless conversation.” She rests her elbows on the table and puts her chin on her hands, looking between Santiago and me. “Can we just agree that Santiago knows something but can’t—or won’t—share it with us? We’ve reached an impasse. Let’s have coffee!”
Coffee quickly arrives, but without Shannon, our table’s out of balance. I’m infringing on Del and Santiago’s love-charged space, so I say I need some air and go outside.
The night’s extra brittle, its sharp chill snapping me out of my comfort zone and turning up my senses. Even from here, the Promise lowlands’ very bottom, I hear the whispering of the woods. My blood responds, and a sharp memory of riding Grane and brandishing my rune-decorated sword hits me strongly. I heat up despite the chilly wind, and suddenly my skin feels constricting, ill-fitting.
I push away the feeling and hug myself tight. To be whole. To be me. I concentrate on my memories of the night so far, on my humanity. I may never know what my mother truly was, but I know very well what it means to be human. The uncertainty of it, the expectations, the sweet moments of having Del as my friend, the embers of an unfamiliar, thirsty spark whenever Shannon is near … In this moment, I know that regardless of what my mother wanted me to do—whether it’s to release some force for chaos or lock it away forever—I don’t want the human world, my world, harmed. It’s not perfect, but humans do enough harm to one another as it is. We definitely don’t need to face whatever Promise is hiding in addition to all our other troubles.
31
SOMETHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT PROMISE
“You look like you’re solving complex math problems in your head.”
I turn to find Shannon standing so close to me, I can feel the heat of his skin. He studies my face. I can feel a hint of a blush threatening to paint me embarrassed, so I snap out a response before Shannon notices. “Not really. I have enough problems of my own to be solving right now. Do you
really want to talk about math?”
“I wanted to apologize, actually. I wasn’t very friendly earlier, and now I feel bad about it. That’s partly the reason I came with Santiago tonight.”
“Good to know. I was wondering if your frosty demeanor was just my imagination.”
“No. You didn’t imagine it. I wasn’t nice to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was … angry. Yesterday, when you showed up at the research base, I couldn’t believe it was really you at first. After all these years, you know. You were my only friend, and I missed you when you left Promise. So when I saw you, all I could think was, What took you so long? I mean, we grew up together and then you just disappeared.”
“You know why I left Promise. It wasn’t by choice.”
“True. You were a kid then, but later on you could’ve tried to find me or reached out. I tried finding out about you from your father, but he wasn’t forthcoming. When years passed and I still hadn’t heard from you, I started to wonder if it was your choice not to come back here at all.”
“After Mom … things were complicated at home. I wasn’t exactly in a position to reach out.… How was it growing up here, anyway? After I left, that is.”
Shannon looks away but not for long. Our eyes keep seeking each other out. “Quiet, I guess. Not many kids to be friends with around here, as you might recall. I had to go to a boarding school out of state after junior high because they didn’t have enough students my age here to bring in teachers from outside.”
“At least you got to go to school,” I blurt out. “I was homeschooled.” He’s waiting for more, while I focus on keeping my eyes down, making a point of studying his hands. He has tough knuckles, and a few scar lines stand out against his skin. I take a long breath and give him a heavily edited, CliffsNotes version of my post-Promise life—how I was briefly at Stonebrook, then under Dr. Erich’s care, and finally in Brooklyn. When I finish, Shannon stares at me. The moment lasts and lasts and lasts. It should make me feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. I meet his eyes straight-on while fighting off a memory of Mom. She used to joke that my eyes drove people and animals mad. But Shannon’s eyes are strange like mine, so maybe our mutual bad mojo just cancels itself out.
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