“It was worth a try.” He sounded sad but better than he did before. It was progress.
I hopped off his lap and tugged him up. “Come on, let's get your stuff. Besides, when will I ever have a chance to rummage through your things? I bet there’s all sorts of cooking secrets worth exploring. Do you have a recipe diary?”
“It’s not a diary,” he muttered, following along.
The guys laughed. “Might as well be.”
The four of us made it back to the Churchill house and found Drex and Quinn already there. Everything was perfect... or would be. I wanted time with Quinn, but that wouldn’t happen until after my first time at Hydrent. A school, surrounded by pine trees, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. And there, they would teach me how to shim. I had been out of school for a week already, and now I was expected to attend Lydent school and go to high school.
After my first day back to school-school, I went to Hydrent, and after that, a brief text to Quinn letting him know my dad was going out on a date tonight had him shimming into my bedroom not ten minutes after my dad had left the house.
We both watched a movie and promptly fell asleep, not worrying about a single thing. If the others wanted to find me, they could. During sleep, though, unease plagued me. I dreamed about a man with nothing to live for: a tainted soul. Then I heard her.
Hannah!
Her voice echoed in my head and startled me awake. I shot up, heart pounding, trying to gain some clarity. It was as if the person had called to me from this very room.
Quinn curled into me. “Hey, you alright?”
I sank back down into the bed. “Yeah, I just...”
He brushed some hair out of my face and planted my head into his chest. “What?”
I snuggled into him, sighing. “Nothing.”
***
With everyone feeling settled, Jamison and I saw a Lydent counselor and everything seemed to be going great... except there was something I was missing. Something I’d forgotten. That was until my dad reminded me.
“Have you talked to Trace lately?” he asked, sitting at the table eating breakfast with me and June. She sat beside him; she’d been coming to the house regularly now that they didn’t have to hide their relationship from me. Since I was cured, I was eating pancakes with a ton of syrup. I wasn’t counting sugars anymore or feeling my impending doom. It had been three weeks since I’d been kidnapped and just recently I realized I could eat whatever I wanted - to an extent.
But dad asking about Trace made my stomach turn. I hadn’t talked to her since I asked her to look into Carly and what was going on in this town. At least a month and a half ago. And that one time I thought I had heard a voice call out to me... it had sounded like Trace’s voice. Scrambling out of my chair, I headed to my room to grab my phone. I skimmed to my text messages.
Not one.
I checked my incoming call records.
Nothing.
In fact, I had tried to reach out to her three times after she promised to call me back, with no answer whatsoever. That was highly unusual.
Trace never missed a clinic date. We had agreed with me being so far away, that she would call on those days. She had missed three.
I pressed her number and lifted the phone to my ear, pacing back and forth as I listened to it ring once before the answering machine came on. That meant it was either dead or turned off.
“I’m sorry,” the mechanical voice stated. “But this inbox is full. Try your call again later.”
Frustrated, I dialed her home line and immediately someone picked up. “Hello?”
My shoulders sagged. “Hi, Mrs. Dolton. I’m looking for Trace.”
Her voice was pleasant, not worried at all. That gave me some relief. “Hello, Hannah dear! How are you doing?”
“I’m great! Wonderful actually, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of Trace. Is she there?”
She laughed, a silly laugh. It sounded weird coming from her. “Of course not, dear.” I glanced at my clock on the desk and rolled my eyes. Of course not; there was a time difference. She'd be at school.
“Oh, that’s right, she’d be-”
“Away at boarding school,” Mrs. Dolton interrupted. “We tried to get her into the one in Switzerland, but you know Trace, she was always fascinated with nuns.”
My heart stopped. “Wha-?”
“We caved and sent her to a pristine boarding school in New York with high ranking marks.” She went on. “She loves it there. In fact, we got our first letter from her. Her penmanship has improved significantly with all the swirls. I just love it.”
My hand tightened on my cell phone. “When did you take her there?”
“Why, Hannah, you should know!” She sounded exasperated. “You both took the flight together.”
This was wrong. So wrong. “What was the date, Mrs. Dolton?”
“Why, it was the first week of August. Why are you asking such outrageous questions, Hannah Cain?”
“I- I...” I didn’t know what to say. I knew what she was saying was all wrong. Trace would never agree to a boarding school with nuns... unless she was the only girl stuck in an all-boy school. Her penmanship was chicken scratch. And third, Trace was scared to fly. We had never been on the plane together.
“Hannah?”
I finally did the only thing I could do. I hung up the phone.
Trace went snooping where she wasn't supposed to, and now she was missing. Someone had altered Mrs. Dolton’s memories; she thought her outrageous and daring daughter had willingly suggested attending a boarding school run by nuns. And to top that all off, no one had heard from her since the beginning of August.
I shimmed out of my bedroom and into Jamison’s room at the Drex’s house. He was in the middle of pulling on his pants and didn’t notice me. When he turned, he jerked back, realizing someone was in his room, before letting out a relieved chuckle. “Hannah, you surprised me for a moment.”
“Sorry, but I need to know something.”
He pulled a shirt out of the drawer and nodded. “Sure, anything.”
“Is there a Lydent talent that can allow someone to change a person’s perspective or make them believe something else?”
He paused putting on a shirt, his eyes wide and staring at me. “Like a false memory?”
I drew closer to him. “Yeah, exactly like that.”
His eyebrows dipped down as he finished putting on the shirt. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”
When I came toe-to-toe to him, I gripped the front of his shirt and whispered, “Trace is missing.”
His arms came around me loosely, a look of concern spreading across his features. “Your friend?”
I gave a short nod. “I think a Lydent took her.”
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Author Bio
I love to write! I have been writing since I was young
(Maybe not long in this subject), but I enjoy it.
Raised in an adoptive family of ten, there were seldom secrets between us siblings.
I thrived on finding out their secrets they did keep and embellishing on a few.
That's where my writing came in and my imagination went wild.
-Nikki Bolvair
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