by Krystal Wade
Clothes shopping? On a full stomach. Megan would point and laugh at him for being idiotic. “Okay. As long as we buy aloe at the store, I don’t care what else we do for the rest of the day.”
“Your face isn’t as red anymore.”
“Still hurts like it is.” I looked in the visor mirror anyway. He was right. Not nearly as red. “Hey, your dad told me we heal faster when we’re together—or when Kalóans are together.”
“Your shoulder proves that theory. I always thought it was odd neither of us ever missed school because we were sick.” He pulled into the Publix parking lot, then cut the engine. “Maybe we should read more of that book today—”
“I thought we were taking the week off!” I glared at him.
“Doesn’t it make you the least bit uneasy to not know why we’re protected here?”
Not until now. Thanks. “I guess so.”
“There must be something in there about it. We need to figure out why so we don’t end up doing something wrong.”
So much for a relaxing week off. Reading that book could take “years.”
“What?”
I disconnected a shopping cart from a long line of others. “I didn’t say anything.”
He smiled. “You’re mad. You don’t even realize how mad you are. You just said years… out loud.”
Crap. “I was thinking reading that book could take years. The thing is like three times larger than the Bible. And the pages are just as thin.”
“But there are pictures,” he said, pinching my side.
The act nearly made me lose my lunch. So full. “Make that wondrous food come back up and I’ll punch you. Watch out.”
I shook my fist at him.
“You’re the one who said you didn’t care what we did for the rest of the day.” He didn’t take me seriously; I saw humor in his smiling eyes.
I didn’t take me seriously either. “I don’t see any aloe in the cart yet.”
Pointing at the empty buggy, I stuck out my tongue, and he snuck in a kiss.
Dropping everything and making out seemed like a fantastic idea. But, umm, public. We were in public.
“So, can we read?” he asked.
“You’re a cheater.”
“I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” Derick loaded a bag of apples, a container of caramel, some strawberries, and microwavable chocolate into our cart. “Tonight.”
My heart pounded, making the world spin around me, and I had to put my head down.
“You okay?” He lifted my chin, a spark of playfulness written all over his now lightly burned face.
“Fine. I’m fine.” Part of me wanted to blurt out that we should buy protection, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Maybe he planned for us to eat these things like normal people.
“Do you know how to cook anything?”
Change of subject, I love you. “My mom taught me how to make a lot of foods. Most were simple things because she works so far from home, but that’s good, too. We don’t need complicated.”
I led us through the rest of the shopping trip. Grocery stores at the beach were much different from those in Fredericksburg. Boogie boards, buckets, chairs, towels, and shelves with sunblock lined aisles near the entryway. Everything else was the same, I guess—even assorted Christmas cookie tins overflowed the stands in the bakery section—but it’d been awhile since I helped Mom with weekly trips to the store.
I missed her. For the first time since we left, I really missed her. My parents loved me. How could I leave them that way? How could I not have said goodbye? Hugged my dad? Kissed my mom’s cheek? Told them I’d call? Who knew if I’d ever see them again; even they seemed resigned to the fact I was leaving. A lump formed in my throat; I swallowed back my emotions, and Derick and I checked out, loaded the car, then went home.
Home. Odd how I was already so used to this new place and worried I’d never see my parents again all at the same time.
“Okay. We’re done being responsible. Let’s go buy some bathing suits and flip-flops,” Derick said after I put the milk in the fridge. He closed the door and wrapped his arms around me. “Maybe retail will be therapy for you?”
Resting my head on his chest, I listened to the muffled sounds of his breathing and allowed tears to fall. I’d held them back since the vegetable section. “How’d you know?”
“As soon as you started talking about your mom, I knew that triggered something in you. The two of you are very close; you always have been.”
“I didn’t say goodbye, Derick. I want to be here, please don’t think I don’t, but I didn’t say goodbye. What if they think I hate them? Mom is probably broken. Dad… he’s so protective of me. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. I’m not sure I want to.”
“You’re in shock. You’ve been through so much with the kidnapping and everything; I think it’s all finally settling in, and that’s okay. It’s normal to be upset. Hell, when they hired Dr. Pavarti after the kidnapping, I didn’t think it was a bad idea for you to see him—at least once or twice.”
I leaned back, tilting my chin up so I could see his face. “What?”
“Just because we’re special doesn’t mean we don’t have complex emotions to work through. And what you experienced, that kind of thing stays with a person. The only problem is, when you saw Boredas in Capitol Ale House, I was so worried you’d think you were crazy. And I didn’t want you to think that, no matter how horrible the truth was.” He held me at arm’s length, a question raising his eyebrows; he was worried I was mad at him, but I couldn’t be mad about that. “Should we go shopping tomorrow instead?”
Derick was so beautiful. The perfect man inside and out. Somehow, someway, I would make sure I saw my parents again, but I needed to enjoy myself. Follow my own rules. I was almost eighteen. Instead of acting like a scared child at summer camp for the first time, I needed to grow up.
“Let’s shop now. These clothes make us stand out.”
hoever said money ‘doesn’t buy happiness’, lied. We walked out of the Centre Shops with only two bags, but shorts, skirts, shirts, wraps, towels, pajamas and flip-flops overflowed from the brown paper.
We stopped at Harry’s Corner Store for a treat on the way back to the condo. Nothing like sitting on the hood of the Mustang, licking vanilla ice cream while at the beach with my boy— “What are we?”
Derick glanced around the empty parking lot. “Can we talk about this later?”
I laughed. “No, not that. I mean, us”—I pointed at him, then me—“What are we?”
“What do you want us to be?” he asked, sliding closer.
I may have melted more than my ice cream, which slowly dripped down the side of my hand. “Not fair. You already cheated once today, and I’m pretty sure we’re about to go home and read. So, you tell me. What are we?”
He dragged a finger across my cheek, staring at my lips. “You know what I want, Abigail Nichols. You. How we are now. How we were on the beach. How we’ve always been, but I want you to be mine.”
So weak. My heart was so weak. “Yours?”
Derick nodded, leaning close to my mouth, sinking his hand into my hair.
My ice cream fell.
“I love you, Abby. Be my girlfriend, be my best friend, be my you.”
“I can do that,” I whispered.
Just as quickly as he turned on the heat, he pulled away and slid off the car. “Come on. Let’s go put away our spoils and then read.”
Spoils? “Aye, Cap’n.”
He winked, then we were off, on our way home. Somehow, his proclamation, him calling me his girlfriend—although I knew he meant so much more than that—satisfied me in a way I hadn’t expected. Derick wasn’t just here to protect me, to protect the key to keeping the planes closed—ugh—no, Derick was here because he wanted to be with me. Nothing else.
I was still smiling about that until we walked into the condo and realized we’d have to go into the bedroom. That idea still scared m
e. One bed. We’d have to share it. We’d shared a bed a couple nights ago. In his house. With his parents home. This bed… well, it was different.
So were we.
“Do you still think I’m going to bite you?” He nudged me through the doorway and then dropped the bags onto the chest at the foot of the bed. “Come on. Pick your drawers, then I’ll shove my things into whichever one you don’t take over.”
I swatted at him but missed.
Derick caught my wrist and pulled me to his chest. “Clothes away. Shower. Reading. You will not distract me. No matter how hard you try.”
“Who said I was trying?”
“You don’t have to.” He backed away with a mischievous grin, leaving me for the bathroom. “I’ll shower first.”
We owned a big wicker dresser with four drawers. My new clothes occupied two. I intentionally squeezed everything in so Derick couldn’t say I took up too much space. Not that he would. Or that he’d mean it.
I sorted through the duffel bag he brought from Virginia. Most of the stuff belonged to me. Brush, toothpaste, underwear—oh my God—bras, razors, makeup. Did he raid my bathroom?
A small off-white envelope fell when I lifted out my undergarments. Mom’s writing was scrawled across the front: Abigail. My hands shook as I lifted the sealed edges and pulled out the letter. Heart racing, I read:
Abigail, I can only pray that you will never forget us and that you will forgive us for keeping the truth from you. We never liked your father’s terms, but we so desperately wanted a child. You are our everything, our world. We wanted you to have a good life, though we knew this day approached. I would have loved for you to stay away from boys forever, but that wouldn’t have been fair—or healthy. Just promise me to believe in yourself. Don’t let the wishes of others guide you. Be your own woman, the woman we raised you to be. I think that’s all any parent wants. I love you, Mom.
I love you, too, Mom.
Two wet arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly before I could fall to pieces, before I could collapse and cry myself to sleep. “I can be invisible and fast.”
I turned, clutching the paper. “I guess my parents knew you were taking me too?”
Derick shook his head. “Nope, just that my parents were planning to hide you away in some safe house.”
A safe house. An island was at least better than a house.
“Is that from your mom?”
Closing my eyes, I said, “Yes. She wants me to be strong.”
“You are.” He kissed my cheek. “Strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I tucked the letter into one of my drawers, then grabbed a pink disposable razor and held it between us. “I used some of these things before we went out to eat the other night. When did you find the time?”
“When you thought I was angry. My dad wanted you to read the book. I snuck out, into your house, grabbed some things your mom had already packed for you, then snuck back home.”
Realization dawned on me. “Your dad helped you.”
“He can read thoughts, you know?” Derick winked, but then his expression immediately darkened, his eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t safe for you there, and Mark’s family… his family. Well, they wanted less than admirable things from you. I always hated Mark, but for his dad to actually want to use you to br—”
“I get it.” The thought of breeding a new batch of ‘good’ guys bound my stomach with knots, twisting and wrapping and getting tighter and tighter.
“I’m sorry, but you should know I will kill him if he ever tries.”
“Derick—”
“Shh.” Derick rubbed his hands on my back in warm, reassuring circles—which was in complete contrast to the sudden darkness he’d just taken on. Like maybe he was trying to wipe away the nausea and fear the thought of being no more than a fancy show dog brought me. He leaned back, his eyes softening, his lips pulling out of a thin line and into a tight smile, and looked me over. “Now, go shower. I’ll get started on the book.”
Cold bathroom or warm Derick? Hardly a choice. But I didn’t want to wear my dirty clothes for a third day in a row, and I certainly didn’t want to put on brand new, clean pajamas when I’d slept on the beach. I was a mess. “Five minutes.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” As if he let all his frustrations slip into a storm, only to be sucked away by the wind, his mouth relaxed and curved up into the most radiant of smiles.
I loved staring at his half-naked body. Beads of water slid down his chest, trailing a line down his abs, right to where the towel was tied at his waist…
Part of me wanted to take too long washing and have him come get me.
Not ready.
Shuddering, I grabbed the duffel bag, marched into the bathroom, set out my things, then blasted the hot water. The shower made my skin rejoice. Sand has a way of making everything feel dry and aged and in horrible need of lotion.
Stepping out, I toweled off and then dressed in my new striped cotton shorts and white tank top. I ran a brush through my hair and rubbed some aloe on my faintly burned cheeks, spending extra time in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like a slob, then rushed out to join Derick.
“Learn anything yet?” I asked.
He and the book had become one. I swear he didn’t notice me; he just stared at the pages, one hand in his hair, the other clenched in a fist at his side.
“Derick?”
“This is going to take forever.” Derick sighed and looked up at me, finally realizing I’d entered the room. “Not only is it thicker than the Bible, it’s as confusing too.”
“Is there an Index?”
“No.” For an instant, his expression looked pained, and then he glanced away and stared through the sliding glass door; a cluster of laughing, smiling people bounced a beach ball back and forth, their carefree vacation beckoning to my heart.
That could be us.
“Well, I read some pages yesterday; there are chapter headings. We can take pieces of paper, write the chapter titles on them, then stick them at each break. We’ll note anything that seems of interest and come back to it when we’ve seen what each section contains.”
“That’ll take forever, too.”
I plopped down on the couch beside him and flipped on the TV, ignoring his pessimism, or at least trying to. “Do you have a better idea?”
“How about we drop the book on the floor, and whatever section it lands on we start reading? Our odds of finding what we need are probably better than if we play the lottery, so I say it’s a good start; people buy lottery tickets all the time—”
“Derick, how many times have you read The Hobbit?”
He winced. “Ten. Twenty maybe.”
“How many times have I read it?”
Derick closed the book, then held it a few feet above the floor. “Where are you going with this? ‘Cause my idea is looking pretty good.”
“Father of fantasy or not, a lot of people can’t stand the way Tolkien wrote. Me included, but you read his book over and over because you felt some personal connection with it. I get that. I read parts of this while you pilfered through my personal effects. The writing style wasn’t anything as exciting as Tolkien’s, but History of Kalós holds valuable information for us. We have to read. Besides, it was your idea.” I nudged his shoulder. “And the lottery? Really?”
“People truly believe they’ll win.”
“But they don’t—unless they’re your parents. Which is why your plan sucks.”
Laughing, he leaned back and rested the book in his lap. “Fine, but the first chapter is useless. Talks about the beginning of time. How the Maker created us to be Guardians of Earth, to pass in and out of the plane of mankind in order to watch over and protect humans from the psychopaths from the spirit plane, and to protect humans from themselves by guiding their emotions. We’re at the top of the food chain or something.”
For someone who thought the book was boring and confusing, he sure seemed to understand a lot. “Who’s
the Maker?”
Derick shrugged. “God? A magician? A witch? I have no idea. The book doesn’t say, either.”
“Great. We’ll go with a god. He created us, right? What else?”
“Second chapter talks about the planes and what type of people live in them. There are the Kalóans—us, Humans—I’m sure you’ve met a few, and Fávlosi—super powered insane people like Boredas and his friend Ruckus, and there’s a fourth plane but no mention of what it holds.”
“How much did you read?” I drew my knees up to my chin and leaned against his shoulder.
Derick huffed. “Took three months for my dad and me to get through those first two chapters. Can you imagine”—he showed me the tiny amount of the book those chapters took up, a millimeter, maybe—“how long it will take to get through the rest?”
“Oh. Maybe you should drop it then.”
“Thought so.”
He sat up, and I snatched the book before he did any damage.
“I was kidding. Come on. Randomly finding book sections will get us nowhere. What’s chapter three about?”
“The first Guardian, who was also the first Elder,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Thousands of years ago. I think there’s a section for each.”
Thumbing through the pages, I realized he was so right. We’d be reading forever. “Okay. I’m assuming Elders are like presidents. We’ll leave it at that. I’m not reading about each one. Maybe we can just skip to the most recent Elder or something.”
“Good idea.” He took hold of a two-inch section of pages and turned it over. “Hey, 1979. We’re getting closer.”
Derick turned over more and landed on 1995. Deceased was listed next to the name. “Guess he didn’t stay an Elder too long. Says he was only in charge for a year.”
He flipped through another small section, stopping on Aedan Mordha—Elemental: Fire Caster—Still In Control.
“Looks like a good enough place to start to me. This is who your dad mentioned is looking for me,” I said, leaning closer. “Aedan Mordha is the first of his kind to rule as Elder. A human war was responsible for the death of his wife and children.” My heart pounded. “This is tragic, Derick. The book says they died of starvation. The Earth wouldn’t produce food, no matter how many Elementals worked on the land. Whatever Elementals are.”