Shattered Secrets

by Krystal Wade

  “Don’t make me call up that psychic Lady Marmalade from TV. I may not have been a believer in that hoojoo before, but I am now.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and glared at me.

  All I could do was smile.

  So intuitive, but so silly.

  “You mean Miss Cleo. Lady Marmalade is a song, and I didn’t realize you liked oldies enough to know that.”

  “You’re deflecting.”

  Heat flared in my cheeks, but I took a deep breath. Anger would only prove his point. “There’s nothing to deflect from, Derick.”

  “Right. That’s why you were on the verge of tears yesterday. That’s why you just touched the pages of this book”—he held up History of Kalós with both hands and shook it—“like it’s a piece of fine art. Have you always been a liar, or is this something new?”

  “A liar?”

  “Yes. A liar.” Derick sneered and tossed the book to the tile floor. “You’ve been lying since yesterday, or withholding the truth—whatever you want to call it. It’s not like you. You’re acting more like that piece of shit Mark than you are yourself.”

  “Did you just compare me to someone you hate?”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  I scrambled to my feet, grabbed Will’s cell phone off the nightstand so I could call Megan and cry and hope she understood me, then barged from the room, making sure to knock Derick’s arm on the way out. “You’re one to talk, Derick. How many months did you hide from me? How many opportunities did you have to tell me the truth and you chose not to?”

  He beat me to the front door and blocked my exit, standing in front of it like a human barrier. “And I hated every second of every day because of that.”

  “And I forgave you when it was all over, didn’t I? I didn’t turn all stalker girlfriend and ask you every five seconds what was wrong or call you a liar, did I?”

  I reached for the knob, but he grabbed it and opened the door for me.

  “Maybe you should have. Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “Screw you. Your parents can make excuses for how afraid you were, but the truth is that you didn’t trust me, Derick.”

  “Right. Because you always act rational and calm.”

  “I don’t want to look at you right now.” I faced the wall like a petulant child and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Before you storm out, promise me something?” Derick forced me to turn around and pinned me with his blue eyes, with a sad expression letting me know I’d won—or lost, depending on how I looked at the situation.

  Definitely lost.

  He needed me, and I needed him. We needed honesty. What kind of hypocrite doesn’t trust the person she loves? How could I believe more in the mysterious writing of a book than Derick?

  How could he trust fear more than he trusted me?

  Jerk.

  “What?”

  “Promise not to get mad when I say I told you so.”

  “Whatever.” Racing from our condo with tears streaming down my cheeks, I headed for the beach.

  Three men passed by me. Two of them wore black suits and looked like they belonged at the president’s side and not some beach bum dressed in khaki shorts and a blue and white striped polo. The rejects from the secret service carried small moving boxes, while the other man’s hands were free.

  “Excuse me, miss,” he said, a large smile on his leathered face.

  Addressing him meant revealing my tears, but I could hardly run away. I wiped my cheeks, turned around and met his eyes; he was all smiles, and he looked oddly familiar, dark hair slicked back, high cheekbones. “Yes, sir?”

  “I apologize if this seems as though I’m interfering in your business, but I couldn’t help overhearing you and your… ?” He pointed at my door, then shrugged. “Boyfriend?”

  The wedding ring wasn’t on my finger, not with Derick in the house and mad at me, but people needed to believe we were married, and I really wanted this guy to believe that. “Husband, sir.”

  The man looked at his sidekicks and laughed. “Well, boys, she’s older than I thought.”

  Snickering, they glanced back at me with a predatory gleam in their narrowed eyes.

  I shuddered.

  “Again, I’m sorry. Relationships are difficult, Mrs…?”

  Panic bells sounded in my head. Nosy equals bad. Nosy with bodyguards… worse than bad. I had too many people after me to trust anyone. And even though I knew Derick and I were protected in the Safe Zone, testing our boundaries seemed like a horrible idea. “Crawford. I have to go, Mr.…?”

  “Call me Carl, Mrs. Crawford. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t like to be called Mr. anything.” Carl winked and reached out his hand, but my creep radar rendered my arm useless—or at least unwilling.

  All his smiles and confidence now reminded me of a dirty politician, something that screamed kind and rich while at the same time carrying a certain serial killer quality.

  So, I smiled instead.

  “Nice to meet you. I have to go.” I waved and then ran to the beach. Fast. Well, as fast as a slug like me could run. Anything to get away from Carl. Seemed like the only thing I wanted to do today—get away from people. Looking Derick in the eyes and lying made me want to scream.

  We’d fought before, but nothing like this. Our arguments started during our hide and seek days and then graduated more into what we wanted to do for fun on a Friday night, not real, grown-up problems defining our very character.

  I am a liar.

  A liar.

  And to Derick.

  Of all people.

  I hated this situation.

  I hated myself.

  I plopped on the sand a few feet from the gently rolling surf and put my head in my hands. Will’s cell phone buzzed against my forehead, signaling a voicemail or a text or an e-mail or something that I shouldn’t look at.

  Snoopy and liar don’t go together well.

  Carl

  “The girl was clueless. She walked right by the three of us without even an inkling of my identity. Just as you predicted, Ruckus: Abigail believes this island keeps her safe.”

  I held my cell slightly away from my head, as though his smarmy vibes could somehow infect me. I really didn’t enjoy working with the lower class, but their methods proved useful when I needed to get ahead. And this man’s methods were brutal. One phone call to the authorities, asking for information on Abigail’s case, and he found me.

  Whoever this man was, he had connections.

  Lots of them.

  And connections are exactly what I needed if I wanted to punish Adam and Lillian Crawford for threatening me with their witchcraft—and earn the added monetary incentive Ruckus offered.

  I didn’t rise to the top of the corporate food chain by playing nice.

  Or fair.

  “Good. Now, listen closely: take out the boy first. I don’t want them finding their way back to each other. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Got it.”

  “And, Carl, if I would go to these lengths to get to one measly little girl, imagine what I will do to you if you do not come through.”

  I squared my shoulders and hung up, without responding. People really get under my skin.

  Darius, Andrew and I stopped outside Unit 242, then Darius tapped on the door with the tip of his gun, a foolish smile on his face.

  “Really, Darius?”

  He bowed his head, but his excitement displayed itself in other ways: wide eyes and the childish way he rocked forward on his toes. “Sorry.”

  “Put away the gun. We didn’t come here to kill him, just rough him up a little, tie him up, then go for the girl.”

  “And kill her.” Andrew couldn’t keep his mouth shut; I only hoped the snowbirds were all too old to overhear, or too senile to care.

  “Yes. Eventually.”

  Darius laughed and tapped on the door again, whispering, “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just take h
er a moment ago.”

  I closed my eyes. Good help is so hard to find. “Apparently Derick is more of a fighter than he appears in the photographs, and we need to subdue him first.”

  The doorknob rattled.

  Darius holstered his gun, reared his arm back, and as soon as the door opened, he punched the boy in the face, knocking him out cold.

  Abigail

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Peeking above my arm, I nearly threw up when I saw Megan sit next to me. Face to face would be much more difficult than over the phone. “It is now.”

  A meager smile lifted the corner of her lips. “You don’t look good.”

  “I don’t feel good.” Why is she here?

  “Me either.” She sighed.

  “Too much alcohol?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I lifted my head and sat up straight, looking Megan over. Still tan, still a perfect figure, still gorgeous flowing blonde hair, yet no makeup, and a new puffiness protruded under her eyes.

  You did this. Aedan’s words scorched my thoughts, sent them right up into flames, congesting my brain with thick smog.

  What if Derick was right and we couldn’t stop what we saw from happening to Will and Megan? How could I do that to my friends?

  Megan laughed and placed her palm on my forearm. “Relax. You’re looking at me the way Will did the first time he saw me without makeup.”

  “That puffiness isn’t from a lack of makeup.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “That sounded horrible.”

  Her smile widened, became more real, less inhibited by whatever-the-hell-inhibited-her in this moment. “Nothing a little cucumber or cold compress won’t fix.”

  “Why’ve you been crying?”

  “Will’s selfish, but for whatever reason, around you, he cares. It’s like he’s alive and driven, the same way he is around my best friend. It’s like I’m a ghost and any other girl is better. I’ve wanted to be mad at Abby and hate her, but I can’t, so I probably shouldn’t hate you either.” She shrugged. “Abby doesn’t love Will. She doesn’t notice him. Not at all. That’s probably what he finds so attractive. She’s someone to chase. And I guess I just felt like I could talk to you. Do you mind?”

  I dug my fingers into the chilly sand to hide the trembling. This was so hard, too hard. My best friend, complaining about me… to me. “Talk away.”

  “I know I sound like the worst best friend ever, especially with her missing, but everyone has always gravitated toward Abby. She’s kind, beautiful, funny, loyal as hell. It’s like she can’t do any wrong.”

  Heat flared in my cheeks. Megan made all those good things sound awful.

  And I bet Derick would disagree on several of those points.

  “Do you really want to hate me—I mean, your friend?” I squeezed the sand in my palms. Deep breath. “Or do you just wish Will wouldn’t see her?”

  “It’s not like that.” Megan picked up shells and tossed them into the rolling surf. “I just wish I knew how to be more like Abby. Every guy at school turns when she walks by, and she doesn’t have a clue. She’s simple and sweet and perfect. I don’t hate her. I know I love her just as much as her boyfriend does, maybe more. I don’t mind admitting that, either; I’m cool with my sexuality.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you talked to her?”

  “No. Sometimes I feel like two people. I go on these expensive vacations with Will and his family every holiday season and summer, and I love it because I’m near him and he’s amazing when we’re not around Abby. But we’re also around all these rich jerks, and… I’m not around Abby. And then, when we’re in Virginia and pretending we’re middle class, everything’s different. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. My head’s pounding.” Megan sighed. “Tell me about your life. Get my mind off my stupidity.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have guy issues.”

  “You do not have issues with Derick.” Megan leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her shins, staring out at the crystal-clear waters of Longboat Key. “He adores you.”

  “That’s just the problem: he adores me.”

  “How, exactly, is that a problem?”

  “I’m keeping something from him.”

  “Do tell,” she said, turning to face me, crossing her legs as if we were sitting on my bed and sharing juicy gossip.

  Things were so different now.

  “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell him. This is the bigger problem.” I swirled my finger on the wet sand, leaving foreign-yet-familiar star-shaped patterns behind—the Guardian’s symbol. “I wish I could run in there and tell him everything, but I’ve been warned not to tell anyone.”

  Megan narrowed her blue eyes and moved closer to me. “This doesn’t have anything to do with, you know, your kidnapping. We never got to talk about it before you ran off.”

  My pulse raced. Ran off from Virginia, or ran off from Will’s?

  From Will’s. Had to be.

  I jabbed my finger in the middle of the design. “Sort of.”

  “I think you need to tell him. If you love someone, if you truly love someone, you’d be willing to share everything with that person, no matter what.”

  “Easier said than done.” What if the Guardians kept their secret because their creator told them to?

  “I know”—she pointed at Will’s phone—“I’ve avoided telling Will the truth for a while now.”

  She did exactly what I always said I wouldn’t when it came to being honest with how I felt about someone.

  And I acted no better than Derick did when his ability scared him.

  I spun the device around in my hand, breathing in through my nose, trying to control my emotions.

  “Did they do something to you? Whatever it is, whatever they threatened you with, you have to tell him, Abs.”

  Why did she just call me by my nickname? “I—”

  “Hell, babe, you have to go home and tell the police.”

  Holy shit. Abs. Babe. I grabbed Megan’s hand and held it, squeezed. “You recognize me?”

  “Of course I do.” Megan squeezed back. “Not sure why I couldn’t yesterday, or a few minutes ago. I’ve felt drugged, like my mind was in some kind of weird fog or I was dreaming.”

  The Safe Zone. I glanced back at the condo and jumped to my feet. “I have to go.”

  “Wait.” Megan grabbed hold of me and pulled me back down. “I thought you were dead, Abby. Just stay here and talk to me for a minute.”

  I have to tell Derick.

  “You don’t understand, Megan.”

  “Explain it to me, then. What made you guys choose Longboat?”

  Will’s phone buzzed, and BEACH HOUSE flashed across the screen.

  “Are you going to answer it?” she asked.

  I nodded and pushed the TALK button. “Hello?”

  “Run,” Will said, breathing heavily into the receiver.

  “Why?” Glancing back at my condo, I noticed footprints rushing toward us without a body attached.

  Megan followed my gaze and shrieked, stumbling to her feet. She grabbed my hand and yanked me the other direction. “What the hell?”

  “Run, Abigail.” Derick’s voice wrapped around my heart like a vice, squeezing the warmth right out of me and paralyzing me with fear. He appeared for a glimmer of a second, revealing blood and cuts all over his face and chest and arms and— “Run, now!”

  A gunshot rang out, and we ran, Megan screaming like a maniac, the phone still up to my ear, Derick’s hand pressed at my lower back, urging me forward.

  “Because my father discovered who you are,” Will whispered.

  hat do you mean he discovered who we are?” I stopped in the middle of the beach, carelessness taking over my senses.

  Megan kept running, wailing at the top of her lungs, her blonde locks whipping through the salty ocean air.

  “We have to go.” Derick glanced from me to Megan, his eyes wide and surrounded by swol
len red skin, then he looked behind me. “Her screaming is going to get us killed.”

  I glared, hoping he realized Megan was not to blame, and pressed the cell phone closer to my ear. “Will, answer me before we get shot.”

  “Derick’s parents gave that condo to my dad years ago, like when I was twelve. They told him one day two kids would show up and need his help. Why Derick’s parents trusted my dad, I have no idea. Anyway, they must have crossed him recently, because he did some research and stumbled across a man who had information about you.”

  “Boredas or Ruckus.” Who else could it be?

  Derick grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, forcing me to move. “They’re catching up. Make it quick, Abby.”

  “I don’t know his name, but according to these files he left on the counter this morning, whoever it was said he’d reward my dad if he returned you… or your bodies.”

  A shell cut into the bottom of my bare foot and I stumbled forward, my heart hammering. “Our bodies?”

  “Good old Carl Banaan is not opposed to earning blood money, Abby”

  Half a million in blood money. The dream I had of Ruckus and Boredas talking, trying to separate me from Derick—it really was a premonition. For whatever reason, I remained calm. A couple humans chasing after me didn’t freak me out nearly as much as the thought of my otherworldly kidnappers, but this time I had more than myself to worry about. “Will, Megan’s with us.”

  Silence.

  Another gunshot sounded; Derick and I ducked but kept sprinting as fast as we could. My knees ached and wobbled and I nearly toppled face first into the sand, but he held me up, kept me safe.

  “Where are the cops?” I wondered aloud, gasping for air.

  “My dad probably paid them off before he came over,” Will said. “Listen, can you get to your car?”

  I glanced at Derick and cringed at his lips pressed together, his bloody, cut up lips, then said, “Yes. Derick can get us back to our car.”

  “Meet me at the park by Mote Marine. Megan knows where it’s at.”

  My foot burned like hell, but I couldn’t stop running. Moving forward would keep us alive. Hopefully. If the last thing I did was keep Megan safe, at least I’d be doing what Guardians were meant to do: protect humans. “See you soon.”