Dark Lightning

by Mary L. Farmer

  Kristy sighed. “Will you stop saying that? You are not a mutant!”

  “Haven, think about it,” Julian said. He was scrolling through photos he’d taken of the show on his phone. “That hypnotist probably does over a hundred shows a year. He must deal with stuff like this all the time. You can’t possibly be the only person he’s had on stage who actually had some psychic ability, right?”

  “No.” Haven turned around and sat up, shaking her head. “No, he was totally surprised. I saw it on his face. God, what was I thinking? I have an art history midterm on Monday that I am so not ready for. I should have gone over to Gutman and studied, instead of going to that stupid show with...with…”

  “With the two of us?” Kristy suggested, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes!”

  “Okay, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry I made you go on stage, okay?” Kristy played with the vintage brass buttons on her jacket sleeve the way she always did whenever she felt guilty. “I guess I just wanted to find out if that Abdul Aleem guy was for real. If anyone can smell a fake, it’s you.” She smiled and pushed on Haven’s shoulder. “You’ve got a great built-in bullshit detector.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Haven said, giving her roommate a disgusted look.

  “This one’s wicked cool,” interrupted Julian. He held up a photo he’d taken of Haven on stage. In it, her eyes were half closed and her outstretched hand dripped with something dark. “Could you really not feel any of that?”

  Haven shot him a murderous glare and buried her face in the pillow again.

  “Julian!” Kristy hissed.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.” Julian went back to scrolling.

  Kristy laid a hand on Haven’s arm. “I know what happened tonight was really bizarre and everything, but what you did on stage was so incredible. Nobody else in that room could have done anything like that. You have a gift—you’re really special!”

  Haven looked up at Kristy, her mouth gaping. “Are you serious? You think what I can do is special? It’s so not special, Kris.” She pounded a fist into her pillow. “It’s totally weird. You can’t know about the scary things I see. Sometimes I feel like I’m holding on by a thread. I’m such a…a freak.”

  “You are not!”

  “Yeah? My mom was ‘special’ too. And look what happened to her.”

  Kristy huffed. “Here we go again. Seriously, Haven, I’m sure your mom’s breakdown had absolutely nothing to do with you.”

  “And how would you know that?” Haven demanded. Pain welled inside once again at the mention of her mother’s ordeal with mental illness. “You’ve never even met my mother.”

  Kristy looked at her fingernails. “I’m still jealous. I wish I could do what you do.”

  “Haven,” Julian piped in, “if it were me, I’d book myself on one of those ghost hunting shows on TV. Man, you could freak the living shit out of people and make some serious bank in the process.”

  Kristy frowned at him. “Well, you’re not her. And don’t call her ‘man.’”

  “You guys don’t get it, do you?” Haven said. “I only told you that I could read objects because I hang around you so much, and I knew the two of you would eventually notice.”

  “Yeah,” Julian said, “it is sort of creepy when your face gets that weird, zoned-out look and your eyes glaze over and stuff.”

  Kristy thrust out a foot and kicked her boyfriend in the shin. “Will you shut up? You’re not helping here.”

  “Ow, easy on the knee, will you?!” Julian protested. “I’ve got a fencing match tomorrow.”

  “Haven, look, we’re on your side,” Kristy said more gently. “We couldn’t care less if you’re different or whatever. I mean, look at me—I’m a textile design major who dresses like a Victorian gypsy on hash. I get people staring at me all day long. I know they’re wondering what mausoleum I robbed to find my wardrobe. But whatever. I don’t give a flying monkey what anyone thinks, and neither should you.”

  Haven sat up, her face wavering between a scowl and a smile. She wasn’t sure what irritated her more: that Kristy had dragged her onstage, or Kristy’s lame attempt at cheering her up when all she wanted to do was sulk. She leaned over and grabbed her phone off the comforter.

  “The point is, Kristy, I asked you not to tell anybody,” Haven growled. She switched the ringer back on, and the phone immediately started chiming with incoming text messages. She held it up and pointed to the screen. “And now, thanks to you and your friend, Abdul the Magnificent, everyone knows. Everyone.”

  “It’s ‘amazing,’” Kristy corrected.

  “It…what?”

  “The hypnotist’s name. The Amazing Abdul Aleem.”

  “Whatever. Thanks to him, it’s only a matter of time before half the women on campus beat down our door and ask me to do a reading on their cheating boyfriend’s underwear or something.”

  Kristy sighed. “I know I screwed up, and I’m really, really sorry. C’mon, Haven, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re like, my best friend here.” She smiled sweetly up at Julian. “Besides you, of course, babe.”

  Julian winked at her. “Whatever you say, duchess.”

  Haven fell silent for a moment as she considered her roommate. They’d met the last week in August, when Kristy moved in with Haven after almost coming to blows with Brianna, Kristy’s former roommate. (Unfortunately, the girl in question still lived down the hall, and Haven often overheard Kristy trading insults with her on the way to the bathroom.)

  Haven had taken an instant liking to the tall, big-boned girl with wavy black hair and winged eyeliner. Haven and Kristy McGlynn had become fast friends, especially after they discovered they shared some of the same eclectic tastes in music. Unlike Brianna (the hair-tossing drama queen), Haven never balked at Kristy’s penchant for thrift shops, and Kristy didn’t mind Haven’s current obsession with old-school hip-hop.

  Haven’s first few weeks at the university had left her feeling isolated, despite the fact that she was only an hour from her home in Stockton, New Jersey. Most of her high school friends had gone to Rutgers, NYU, or Temple. If Kristy and Julian didn’t drag Haven along on their frequent outings to explore Philadelphia, she’d probably be one of those mole people who lurked in their dorms every night, glued to their laptops and social media.

  However, as much as Haven appreciated her new friend’s unconventional ways, Kristy’s unwitting betrayal was still fresh—and it hurt.

  “So what do you think, girl?” Kristy asked. “Are we good?”

  “Yeah, I guess we’re good,” Haven mumbled darkly. “But I’m reserving the right to stay pissed off at you for a while…if I feel like it.”

  “I can accept that.” Kristy stood up and went over to rummage through her makeup bin. “This’ll blow over pretty soon. In a few weeks—hell, a few days from now—people will find something else to fixate on and everything will be back to normal. You’ll see.”

  “Ugh.” Haven tossed her phone onto the side table. “At least I’ll be off campus this weekend.”

  “Oh that’s right—you’re helping your brother Brian with one of his antique thingies tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  Haven nodded. “An estate sale, yeah. It’s somewhere up in Bucks County I think, so I’ll be gone until Sunday. Brian’s picking me up in the morning.”

  “Why’s he picking you up here? Where’s your car?” Kristy asked.

  “In the shop having a new clutch installed. Victor’s cousin Javier has a body shop in Trenton, and he’s supposedly cutting me a break on the labor.” Haven leaned her head against the wall. “I really hope we do well on this auction, because I’m going to need the money to pay Javier for the repair.”

  Kristy stood in front of her mirror, filling in her lips with a dark-red pencil. “Victor…I remember him. Wasn’t he that paramedic dude you introduced me to at your brother’s house?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  Kristy raised an eyebrow. “How’s he doing?”

>   “Er, he’s good, I guess.” Haven colored slightly. Victor Ortiz was her brother’s oldest friend and most trusted employee, and he happened to be incredibly great looking. Haven had been crushing on him since she was twelve.

  Kristy looked at her sideways. “Victor’s single, isn’t he?”

  “Um, yeah, as far as I know.”

  Haven’s roommate applied some gloss and pressed her lips together. “So how come you guys don’t date?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because it would be weird? He’s really good friends with my brother, and—”

  “So?”

  “So Brian and Amy would always know what we were doing, where we were going.”

  Kristy shrugged. “Why should that matter?”

  “Are you kidding me? I live with them, Kris…at least when I’m not at school. I don’t need my brother and sister-in-law up in my business twenty-four-seven.” Haven hugged her knees. “Anyway, Victor’s a great guy and everything, but…he’s got a kid and an ex-wife who sort of treats him like they’re still married. I’m not sure I could deal with that right now.”

  “That’s too bad, girl.” Kristy fluffed her bangs and shook her black hair. “Victor’s totally hot.”

  Julian looked up sharply from his phone, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Calm down, babe. I’m only trying to help my roomie here get laid,” Kristy said.

  “I’m sure Haven doesn’t need any help in that department,” Julian grumbled.

  “Thank you, Julian,” Haven said.

  “I know that,” Kristy said, ignoring Haven’s frosty look. “But she’s really mad at me, and I wanted to see her smile.”

  Haven rolled her eyes. “Ugh, are you two leaving any time this century? Please tell me you’re not going to stand there all night discussing my love life.”

  “All right, we’re going.” Kristy buttoned up her coat. “We’re meeting Tyler for absinthe at the Red Owl Tavern on Chestnut Street. Wanna come?”

  “No thanks. I think I’ll hang onto a few of my brain cells. I’m going to try and salvage what’s left of the night to study,” Haven said.

  Julian suddenly turned to Haven. “So just out of curiosity…if I brought my fencing foil over here, could you like, touch it and tell whether I’m going to win my match tomorrow afternoon?”

  “What the hell, Julian?” Kristy snapped. “You know she can’t see the future!”

  Haven shrugged and nodded her head in agreement. “I only see random events connected with an object’s past. And I don’t really have control over what I see or when. It just kind of happens.”

  “We’re going now.” Kristy steered Julian toward the door by the shoulders. “Have a good weekend. Say hi to Brian and Amy for me, okay?”

  “Sure. Bye.”

  The door closed behind them and then opened again a second later. Kristy stuck her head inside the room. “Haven?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not planning to stay pissed at me for too long, are you?”

  Haven folded her arms. “Why?”

  “Because if I have to go back to living with Brianna, I’ll be doing time for murder by Thanksgiving.”

  “You’re such a flake,” Haven said, throwing a pillow at her.

  Kristy ducked behind the door and came out again. “I’m serious, girl. I can’t handle that chicken-necked bitch’s bullshit. You and Julian would have to take turns smuggling me lattés on prison visiting days.”

  “I’m not going to kick you out over a stupid show, Kris.”

  “Oh, good. Bye, then.”

  The door thumped shut and Haven sat alone with her swirling thoughts, listening to her cell phone chiming. She reached over and powered it off. Sitting up on the bed, she pulled out her laptop, opened her spiral notebook and got out her highlighter.

  Time to get to work.

  But a few moments later, Haven was overcome by a mysterious, mind-numbing fatigue. She grabbed a diet cola out of the small fridge at the foot of her bed, but she hadn’t taken more than a couple of sips before she started doing head bobs over her computer. What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be this tired—it’s only nine-thirty. Haven slumped down and laid her head on her pillow. I know, I’ll rest for half an hour, then wake up and study until midnight.

  “Haven.” Someone shoved her shoulder. “HAVEN!”

  “Huh?” Haven opened an eye. “What is it?”

  Kristy was standing over her in rumpled flannel pajamas with rodeo clowns on them. Her hair stuck up at odd angles, and she still had on eye makeup from the previous day. “Get up, girl. Your brother’s here.”

  Haven blinked. Her older brother stood by the door. “Brian?”

  He waved at her, looking amused. “Hey.”

  “Ugh, those drinks last night were killer. My brain’s an effing inferno,” Kristy mumbled. Shuffling back to her bed, she dove under the covers.

  Haven bolted upright. “Wait…what are you doing here?”

  “It’s seven-thirty, kid,” Brian said. “I tried to call you a couple times, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I came up.”

  “It’s what?” She looked at the sunlight peeking through the blinds, then over at Kristy’s antique Minnie Mouse alarm clock. “Geez, I’m sorry. I turned off my phone last night.” Still in her clothes, Haven leaped up and snatched her shower caddy out of her wardrobe. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

  “No problem.” Brian nodded toward the door. “I’ll be down in the car.”

  As Haven headed to the bathroom, she suddenly worried that she might be getting sick. Despite having just slept for about nine hours, she was feeling lightheaded, dizzy, and exhausted.

  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that all night long she’d had the same dream—that of an eagle, soaring across a bright blue sky.

  FOUR

  Western Africa

  The Year 1540

  UGONNATUBELM DASHED ALONG the riverbank, dodging branches and hurdling over fallen trees. His toes gripped the soil, allowing his thin but powerful legs to propel him swiftly down the path through the rainforest. His name meant “eagle,” and nobody in the village could run faster, not even his younger half-brother, Munachi.

  As usual, Ugo, as he was known for short, was the first one to arrive at the bathing place. He leaped from the bank and dove into the murky river.

  Moments later, other young boys from his village came bounding into the water behind him, shouting and shoving each other around. After a morning of tending goats and wrestling matches, the children were coated in dust.

  Ugo broke from the surface and scrubbed out the debris embedded in his closely cropped black hair. “What took you so long?” he teased the others. Two older boys splashed over to him, lifted Ugo up by his elbows, and heaved him into the middle of the river.

  “Hey!” he cried, swimming back to the group. “Are you crazy? There might be crocodiles out there!”

  The two boys just laughed. The taller one scooped up a handful of mud and slung it at him. Ugo dodged the muck easily, clambered onto the earthen bank and shook the water from his dark brown limbs, scowling. Once I start growing, thought Ugo, they won’t dare to tease me. And when I reach manhood, I’ll be a force to be reckoned with.

  Slight in body and stature, Ugo possessed a wide, ready smile and a keen intelligence. His quickness and agility allowed him to beat some of the older boys at wrestling on a regular basis. Though his skill earned him a certain respect among his peers, it also tended to ruffle a few egos, and today it had gotten him tossed into the middle of the river.

  Ugo tried not to take their goading to heart. Their teasing was a way of keeping him humble, but it still bothered him. He stomped through the undergrowth, longing for the day he would grow tall like his father and grandfather. In his mind, village chiefs were large, formidable men.

  And he wanted to be chief.

  “Take care where you step!” Ugo called back to the boys cavorting in the river. Provoking the jinns—the spi
rits that lurked near the water—could mean trouble and misfortune for the entire village. “Tomorrow is an important day for my family. That means no mischief!”

  Ugo was particularly concerned that nothing spoil his sister’s inu nwunye, or marriage ceremony. Following the custom, his family would welcome the entire village into their compound for a feast to honor her union to the son of a high-ranking family from a neighboring clan. The alliance was significant and could greatly improve Ugo’s family’s position in the village. His father’s three wives had spent many weeks preparing for the feast, and he prayed everything would run smoothly.

  Now safely out of range of the mud-slingers, Ugo slowed his pace and picked his way upstream to hunt for a piece of driftwood. In truth, he had an underlying motive for wanting his sister to be married. Of all the offspring of his father’s three wives, Ugo was ókpárá—the eldest son. After his sister was married, Ugo’s father might consider having his prophecy read by the village holy man to determine if he was ready for manhood. If the outcome was favorable, Ugo would be allowed to undergo the coming-of-age rituals for men of his tribe. Manhood was the first step to becoming the village chief—an honor he longed for.

  Ugo scanned the riverbank, looking for suitable carving material. At twelve years old, he was already a skilled carpenter, and he’d decided to make his sister a wedding gift of a wooden bowl. He stooped here and there, picking up and discarding weathered branches until he discovered an unusual limb among a tangle of reeds. Ugo inspected it with a practiced eye, determining it to be teak—a rare and coveted wood in this part of the forest.

  Swinging his prize like a club, Ugo walked back to join the other boys, unaware that in a few moments, an ominous event would completely alter the course of his young life.

  ***