I let the weight of what she said settle over me. Grace lost her mother, too. I can't believe I didn't know this. I really need to get my head out of my ass if I want to have any chance at having a friend in this town.
"I'm sorry," I say, knowing that it doesn't mean anything. I can't count how many times I heard the same things after my parents were killed and it didn't mean or change a damn thing.
Grace laughs bitterly confirming my thoughts. "Don't be. My mother left me, she wasn't taken from me like your parents were."
I feel like a jerk because I have no idea what to say, so I focus on my coffee sucking the last chocolatey dregs from the bottom of the glass. Grace does the same, her face smooth, hiding any emotion or thought. Our coffee break is officially over. I stand and Grace follows suit somewhat reluctantly.
The air seems even hotter than before, after being in the air conditioning. I squint through the haze, my brain taking its time registering the fact that Anders is standing across the street in front of the library, arms crossed, looking annoyed.
I roll my eyes and stroll casually through the cross walk.
"Sup?" I say with a smirk once I'm standing in front of him.
Anders' eyes narrow but his mouth quirks up slightly at the corner, a foreign sign of amusement.
"Your grandmother is back. She wants to see you right away," he answers.
My chest tightens but I manage to take in a breath before responding in as even a tone as I can. "That's nice, but, as you're aware, I'm busy right now. You will take me back to the estate at the previously designated time, at which point I will see Magda. If she has a problem with that she can call me herself," I say mimicking his formal tone.
With that, I turn on my heel and march back into the library, my back straight and head tall even though my hands are shaking. Once I'm inside, I keep going until I'm deep in the stacks; I slump against one of the shelves and press my eyes closed. The truth is, Magda terrifies me. I have no idea what she knows about me and what's been happening. As soon as I'm sure I'm not going to have some sort of panic attack, I head down to the basement.
I expect Grace to want some sort of explanation about my reaction, not that I really need to give one since half the town feels the same way about Magda as I do, but she seems sort of dazed and doesn't mention that she notices anything unusual. I notice a slight pink in her cheeks that seems different than her usual blush. I press my lips together and suppress an eye-roll. Anders is kind of hot, but not my style. I guess he's Grace's style.
We spend the next hour sorting through the moldy boxes, both of us preoccupied with our own thoughts. The time slips by unnoticed and, before I'm ready, Anders is standing at the foot of the basement stairs glaring at me, only gaining my attention when he clears his throat in that loud obnoxious way only he can manage. Grace looks up, startled, and her face flushes immediately. It would be cute if Anders wasn't so annoying.
I unfold myself from my cramped position on the floor. My bones crack as I stretch and I wince. I glance at Anders and find him watching me, his normal glare absent from his face, replaced by a blatant look of appreciation. Gross.
"Grace, do you want a ride home?" I ask, causing her to jump.
Her eyes slide slowly from Anders to me before giving me a barely perceptible nod. I never usually offer because Grace always walks, her house being on one of the streets off of Main Street, but I need a buffer between Anders and me, especially after the look he was just giving me. Plus, I'm not too keen on getting back to the estate and Magda.
I breeze by Anders without looking at him. Outside, thick dark clouds have swallowed up the sun and the air smells like pending rain. I can feel the energy in the air crackling off my skin as I move; it shoots straight to the stone around my neck causing it to grow warm. I bite back a smile. Ever since the night I stepped through space and time, or whatever, I've been practicing using my abilities, but I haven't really had the chance to see what I can do. A thunderstorm would be the perfect opportunity to amplify things. At least, it seemed to work last time.
Tense silence descends as we all take our places in the black SUV. Anders drives. I had offered Grace the front seat, but she refused. It's too awkward trying to make conversation over the back of the seat, so I take to staring out the window and willing the skies to open up and pour rain and lightning. A few sporadic drops splatter across the windshield, but nothing more.
We pull up alongside the curb in front of the two-story colonial Grace shares with her father. I gaze up at the house with morbid curiosity. The windows are like blank eyes in a pale white face. Grace hesitates for a second before opening the door and slowly stepping out of the car. She gives me a weak smile before turning and heading up the walk toward her house. I watch her walk, shoulders slumped, arms wrapped tightly around her. Anders waits until she's inside before pulling away.
As we drive, rain starts to pour causing steam to rise up from the streets. I steal a sidelong glance at Anders. His jaw is tight and his eyes are fixed on the road. I don't know what his problem was, but if we're going to be stuck together all the time this is going to have to stop.
"So, um, I think Grace liked you," I say lamely.
My voice sounds odd in the tensely silent car. I wait for him to respond, but he says nothing. I blow out a frustrated breath and turn in my seat so I'm facing him.
"Why are you always so mad at me?" I demand.
Anders remains tense for a moment before his jaw and shoulders relax slightly and he lets go of a long breath.
"I'm not mad at you. I'm just..." He trails off, considering his words. I watch as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth; it's a gesture that reminds me painfully of Lex. I turn away and resume looking out the window while I wait for him to continue. To my surprise, the car begins to slow and Anders pulls onto the shoulder. I hear him shift in his seat and feel his eyes on me but I don't move.
"Look, Evan. I need to keep my distance," he says.
"From what, me?" I turn to look at him again. He's gripping the steering wheel, a torrent of words frozen in his mouth as his jaw tenses again.
"Yes," he manages to choke out.
I swallow hard, stunned by this revelation.
"Why?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. I'm truly frightened now and I almost forget what I'm capable of.
"Because, it's easier," he replies hoarsely.
"Than what, Anders?"
Instead of answering he shifts the car into drive and pulls back onto the road. The moment we're back inside the grounds I feel myself relax, physically and mentally. It turns out that the isolation of the estate suits me. Anders pulls up in front of the house; I let out a long sigh and sink back into the seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the corner of Anders' mouth tilt up. I can feel a blush burning under my skin.
Anders reaches over and takes my hand. Chills break out over my skin at the contact. "Evan, it's not an easy thing to explain, but I need this to stay professional. I want to keep you safe."
I sit up straight and turn in my seat until I'm looking at him fully. His grip on my hand tightens.
"From what?" I ask, desperate for any shred of an explanation from anybody.
Anders’ gaze is focused on where our hands are joined. Slowly, he lets go of my hand and trails his own up along my arm, his touch soft and deliberate. He fingers the edge of my neckline before reaching up and sliding his hand around the back of my neck, cupping it gently. My heart picks up speed, mostly from fear, maybe a little excitement.
"Anders," I say hearing the subtle tremble in my voice, "I know something is going on. All this extra security that I'm pretty sure I lived without just fine up until couple months ago, the way the people in this town act, the fact that Magda has been M.I.A for the better part of my time here. Whatever it is, I think I have the right to know. Scratch that. I do have a right to know."
Silence swells between us. I can see the muscles clench and unclench in his jaw as if he were literally chewing h
is words. His hand is warm on my neck. Thunder cracks in the distance and we both flinch; Anders pulls away and grips the steering wheel again. My skin begins to tingle and lights in the dash flicker. Time is running out, the answers will have to wait.
"Look, I have to get inside and see what old moth balls wants. But don't think I'm going to let this go."
Anders' mouth drops before his face splits into a wide grin. "Old moth balls?" he asks incredulously.
I can't hold back my own grin. Instead, I turn and look out the window at the imposing facade of Magda's mansion. I'm reminded of my first day here, when Lily and I sat in her car and laughed. A knot tightens in my stomach. I've been dodging Lilian's calls for the last couple of weeks. I'm only managing to numb myself sufficiently enough to get through the day without thinking about them, I don't have the capacity to deal with Lilian, too.
"Evan?"
"Yeah, yeah," is all I say. Without looking back, I open the car door and slide out. "Later," I call out over my shoulder as I close the door behind me.
I bolt up the front steps and make it to the top just as the skies open up and let a torrent of rain and lightning out. The door opens for me before I reach it and I'm greeted by Albert. He gives me a solemn nod as I sidle by feeling sheepish.
Inside, there is a flurry of activity. The staff seems to have tripled while I was gone, all of them dusting and setting up flower arrangements and sorting the household out with manic enthusiasm. Normally, the house is filled with shadows, shadows that give me a sense of comfort that I can't explain. Now, they've all been chased away and eaten up by the various chandeliers and gas lamps, by the cheery fires burning in almost every hearth. I twist the end of my ponytail nervously, feeling out of place for the first time since I got here. I haven't even realized how much I've felt at home here until now. It makes me nervous.
While I'm distracted by the activity and a budding panic attack, Greta materializes in front of me. She gives me her usual icy smile, but I can see the sympathy just beneath. Her eyes travel down over my worn t-shirt and dusty jeans. She presses her lips together and gives a nod of acceptance.
"Your grandmother is in the drawing room. She'd like to see you. Now." She doesn't wait for me to respond before turning and walking away to yell at a girl who just dropped a heavy-looking vase. It makes a loud, clattering sound when it hits the floor, but it doesn't break.
I take a steadying breath; electricity crackles in my fingertips, a reminder of the building intensity of the storm. I turn on my heel and head down the hall, careful to keep out of the way of the frantic maids. There are several drawing rooms to choose from, but I know the one Greta meant. It's probably one of the more modern rooms in the house, with sofas and chairs upholstered in sleek, chocolate-colored silk and ivory walls. The few times she's been home I noticed that she would often take meetings there.
As I near the room, the chaos of the rest of the house tapers off. Automatically my hand strays to the small heart-shaped lump beneath my t-shirt. I hesitate in front of the door, unsure of myself. The door is solid oak with a simple design of laurel and roses carved in it. I'm considering how nice a door it really is and taking due time to really appreciate it, when Magda's voice rings out cutting through me like a dull knife.
"Evangeline?"
I take another steadying breath, grip the iron doorknob, and push forward. The room is dim and chilly save for a weak fire in the hearth. Rain splatters against the glass doors that lead to a private patio. A bolt of lightning lights up the sky momentarily, sending a wave of longing through me. I press my lips together and tear my eyes from the sight. My gaze lands on Magda who is sitting cross-legged on an ornate looking armchair that doesn't seem to fit with the modern I.
For some reason I'm expecting the worst, but what I get is a smile; an uncharacteristic warmth touches Magda's eyes. I should be relieved but I feel uneasy. She gestures for me to sit down and I obey, sinking heavily on one of the spindly-legged sofas. Magda raises an eyebrow so I sit up straighter and fold my hands in my lap.
"I have heard a great deal about your efforts for the church picnic and I am pleased," she begins in her deliberate monotone.
She pauses and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say something, so I remain silent. This is, apparently, the right thing to do as the pause serves only to allow the glory of her praise to fully sink in to my pea-sized brain. I manage a pained smile and she continues.
"Even so, I am disappointed to learn that you have taken little to no interest in socializing with your peers or otherwise. I believe I made it explicitly clear that it is your duty as a member of the Price family to uphold a certain level of involvement. You have failed in this respect."
Despite my efforts to remain controlled my fists clench in my lap. I grind my teeth together to hold back the stream of expletives threatening to explode from my mouth. She is the last person that should be judging me about being involved since she seems to prefer to spend months away at a time doing who the hell knows what, leaving me to rot in this small, stifling town, where the most exciting thing to happen lately was Susan Thomas' sister-in-law painting her fence ivory instead of eggshell like she's been doing for years.
"Starting tomorrow, you will become an active participant in this town's daily affairs. You will attend the Ladies Tea each week, you will be present at any organized social function appropriate for your age group, and you will register for the Apple Fest Pageant. I have placed Greta in charge of these affairs until your assistant arrives." She punctuates her diatribe with an icy glare.
I feel the color drain from my face. "My assistant?" I sputter.
Magda presses her lips into a thin line and her brow creases ever so slightly. "Evangeline. We're not going to be unreasonable, are we?"
Her tone is pitched with perfect condescension. Without giving me a chance to respond, she picks up a newspaper from the end table next to her chair and begins to peruse the front page. It's clear that there's no room for discussion and I've been dismissed.
Silently, I weigh my options. I can throw a fit and go off on some tirade about how she can't control me and how it's my life and I'm going to do what I want, but I'm sure that's what she's expecting. I can imagine a similar scene playing out between her and my mother. The thought makes me sick with grief and some other unnamed emotion that washes over me like a swiftly darkening night.
Instead, I choose the second option: cool acceptance. I've never played the part of the spoiled brat before, and I'm not about to start.
"Of course not, grandmother," I reply evenly.
She looks up; a flash of surprise crosses her face before quickly disappearing. When she finally speaks, her tone is clipped and formal but it does little to hide the fact that I've shaken her, if only just so.
"Very good then. Be dressed for dinner by seven. We have guests." She pauses, surveying me. "That is all, Evangeline. You may go."
So I leave.
Chapter Thirteen
Water-sloshes gently over the edge as I lower myself into the deep tub in my bathroom. I intend to spend the next hour here, stewing over what just happened. At the time, I had remained calm, but the second I hit the staircase I felt a panic attack coming on. The plan had been to wait out the year as far under the radar as possible until I could escape to college and freedom. Now that I have to blossom into some sort of small town socialite over night, under the radar is going to be impossible.
I sink deeper into the water until it touches my chin. Steam rises lazily from the surface as the water heats at my will until it's almost too hot. Manipulating the elements is growing easier every day. When it all started I wasn't sure what I was doing or how it was happening. After a while it occurred to me that there was a pattern. Whenever anything freaky happened to me or because of me, it always had to do with some sort of element: air, water, even electricity, if you could consider that an element, which I do. I'm not exactly sure what happened in the woods when I somehow knew the direction to go, or how I kn
ew that I could do that, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the earth, as weird and corny as it sounds.
Strangely, none of it is freaking me out. The possibility of brain damage or PTSD is becoming less and less likely. Lex seems to believe me. I mean, how could he not since I showed up, magically, in his hotel room? Then again, I haven't heard from him since it happened. It's quickly becoming a possibility that I just hallucinated it.
The only one, besides Lex, that can confirm the fact that I had indeed vanished into thin air, is Josh, and I'm not too keen on seeking him out. If it is true, if it really happened and he saw it, I'm not sure if I want to know what he's thinking.
Or maybe I imagined him, too. I probably should be more concerned that I might possibly be having a nervous breakdown, but I'm calmer than I've ever been in my life.
Before my skin can prune, I pull myself out of the tub, wrap myself in a towel, and pad to my closet. The selection before me is dismal. An array of flowery dresses hangs limply, the tags still firmly affixed to their sleeves. None of them have been touched since I bought them on my shopping trip with Lex. At the time I was being bratty, choosing the frilliest, ugliest things I could find, pissed about being forced to shop for some stupid tea. Now, I'm regretting it.
Most of my clothes from home are still packed away in garment bags in a storage unit, in Connecticut. I had only brought what clothes could fit in an oversized suitcase, another moment of rashness. I rifle through the dresses until I'm satisfied that I have nothing to wear. I roll my eyes at myself and pluck the grey silk dress that I wore to tea off its hanger. It's a perfectly good dress, but it doesn't match my mood. The pent up energy inside of me has me feeling powerful, maybe even sexy. Lightning flashes through the curtains and my skin tingles. I need a release, but I'm sort of enjoying how it feels to withhold.
I turn and pace the room, trying to catalogue every piece of clothing I brought with me. It amounts mostly to a slew of band t-shirts, jeans, and yoga pants. But there is something. My lips curl into a wicked grin when I pull it from its resting place under my unnecessarily massive bed. Well, maybe not unnecessarily if Lex is somehow involved in the near future. I shake my head to clear out the distracting thoughts and go to work.
Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) Page 11