by Krystal Wade
“It’ll snap him back to this reality.” Mr. Crawford nodded to his wife.
“Two…”
Derick and I climbed onto the round metal railing. Wobbling, I held one hand out for balance while clutching the book under the other, and stared down into the water, the moonlight dancing off the rippling waves.
“Three!”
“Here goes nothing.” I held my breath and took a step forward, bracing for impact: straightening as instructed, pointing my toes. Then I hit with a loud crash, my bones aching from the cold as I sunk toward the bottom. I kicked and swam my way to the surface, then counted the heads. We all made it.
“What now?” The beautiful blue pools reclaimed their rightful spot in Derick’s eyes; the drug washed away. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
“Back from your acid trip so soon? Now that we know you won’t go chasing dolphins, you should swim toward the cops,” Will said. “Then we’ll walk along the beach to get to my place.”
“Okay,” Mr. Crawford said, “Let’s move before we’re seen—and sorry about your car, son.”
“My car?”
An explosion rocked the bridge.
“Holy shit.” Will smiled, awed by the flames.
For a split second, the air warmed, then we paddled toward safety without saying another word.
An hour later, we collapsed on the lounge chairs behind Will’s house. The temperature hovered somewhere in the fifties, had to be. My teeth chattered. My clothes and hair burned my skin, cold as ice. My toes were stiff and slightly purple.
Derick hadn’t said anything since his car blew up, neither had anyone else for that matter. He worked double-shifts bagging groceries to pay for that Mustang, refusing his parents’ repeated offers to help. I lay beside him and stared up at the stars.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just a car.”
We fell back into a deep silence. This moment of peace in the middle of chaos, this simple moment where we could just be, didn’t feel as though it belonged to me or Derick. Our lives were foreign, full of murdered parents, running away from friends-turned-killers—Mark, running way from Mark—and crazy potions and weapons, things we didn’t have a clue how to use, really, things we’d have to endure training to use properly in the future.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, shifting slightly so my eyes were level with his jaw, which was in desperate need of a shave.
He blinked, hard. “I kept thinking we could fight this. That somehow, when Boredas and Ruckus were under control, you and I could finish high school, go to college. You know, live. But we’ve lost Mark to something… I hated him because of you, because he knew you longer and for whatever reason when you were mad at me you’d go to him, but for this… he’s a killer?” Derick rolled to his side, a wild look in his eyes. “Doesn’t that sound stupid, Abigail? Mark, a killer!”
“I never loved—”
“It’s not even about your feelings for him. I’m not questioning you.” Taking my face in his palms, he rubbed his thumbs along my cheekbones. “It’s everything. Me. You. Him. My parents. Even Will and Megan. There is no going back to a simple life. What if you open the planes and we never see each other again? What if you can’t stand me when you see what I’m planning for Aedan?”
“Don’t say that.”
“I have to say that, Abby. I loved the way I felt when I went back for the book. I loved jumping from the bridge into the ocean. My insides came alive, like my dad’s potion revealed something deep and natural—and right—that’s been locked away too long.”
“That’s because it did.” Mr. Crawford loomed above us, his head tilted to the side. “You’re right to worry about your life changing. You’ve always lived a lie. But the truth won’t change you. You’ll still be Derick; you’ll still love running, books, cars, and most importantly Abigail. Living on our plane will enhance who you already are, make you more capable, teach you things you never imagined possible.”
If we ever get to live on our plane. “If we survive Aedan.”
“Oh, we’ll survive him. I’ll make sure of it.” Derick sat up and crossed his legs. “Why do I want to end him so badly? I don’t understand this part of me, this burning desire to hunt down any threat to Abigail and kill it.”
Mr. Crawford squatted in front of Derick, placing his hand on his son’s knee. “The world isn’t harsh, but the people in it are. Aedan is dangerous, Boredas and Ruckus are as well, but not as much for you as for Abigail. Your natural instinct is to protect her because you love her and because that is your job; protection runs in your blood. Since discovering the truth, have you ever wondered why your skills are more action-intense while Abigail’s are not?”
“No, but come to think of it—”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
“No. No. Guardians are thinkers, planners of massive battles and rulers of a people. You pay attention to detail, listen to problems brought to you—or see through problems you experience—and set a course of action for others to follow. From the intricate details you gave the police after your kidnapping, I’d say you were quite all right. But the point I’m getting at is everyone else is here to serve you—we serve Guardians—”
“I don’t want to serve her.” Derick looked as if his father had smacked him. “Protect her, yes, but not carry her drinks on a silver platter and follow her around castles all day long.”
I snorted. “If it makes you feel better, that actually sounds quite nice.”
He glanced sideways, his mouth still set in a grim line. Breaking through this funk promised to be difficult. “That doesn’t help.”
“Why? It’s not like I’m asking you to do any of those things for me. You’re just assuming I’m going to change without any proof.”
“What if you do?” He pointed at the book. “You’ve changed just since reading that. The old Abigail never would have kept anything from me.”
I opened my mouth to yell at him, but Mr. Crawford shook his head then returned his attention to Derick.
“The massive dose of alitherum you breathed in has you in a sort of depression. Reality can be depressing.” Grimacing, Mr. Crawford went on, “But people don’t change unless they want to, Derick. You need to keep that in mind when fear overwhelms you, when reality appears bleak. But believe me when I say I understand why you’re upset.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Although your mother and I have known for a long time that you and Abigail would fall in love, you’ve only come to understand that recently. You’re afraid. But you don’t have to be. Once we cross planes and take our home back from Aedan, you’ll learn there aren’t any castles, and you won’t carry drinks to her on a silver platter.”
“Damn. I was really looking forward to that.”
Derick cracked a small smile.
Finally!
Mr. Crawford glanced over his shoulder. Will and Megan were wrapped in each other’s arms, asleep on a lounger, and Derick’s mother sat in the sand beside their chair, her eyes glazed over. “Now, Abigail, can we discuss what it is you need for this to work before one of the three sleeping beauties over there starts snoring and alerts someone of our presence?”
“The book.” My heart leapt, not in a good way, and I chewed my lip. “I know it’s caused nothing but grief, but I need to read it.”
“How do you know what to do?” Derick picked the book up from the sand and dusted off the cover.
“Because it’s been trying to show me.”
“The secret?”
Nodding, I took History of Kalós from him and flipped through its pages. “The secret.”
“Do you need anything else?” Mr. Crawford asked, standing.
“Time.”
He nodded and helped Derick to his feet. “Then time is what you shall have.”
ome on, you stupid book. Just show me that drawing again. We didn’t have hours to spare, but hours are exactly what I wasted trying to get
a glimpse of the plane doors—at least I hoped they were the plane doors. Mrs. Crawford took her husband’s place, walking a perimeter around the beach to keep watch for Mark, Boredas and Ruckus, and even Mr. Banaan and the police. She’d occasionally stop and look at me, shake her head, then return to pacing. Derick fell asleep shortly after I’d yelled at him to get out of my face.
He wasn’t helping.
None of them were.
Hell, I wasn’t even helping.
You cannot be trusted, Abigail Doran. You’ve spoken of the secret. You want to open the world to evil when I’ve told you it’s the most dangerous thing you could ever do.
I stuck my tongue out at the book. Crazy? Yes. Definitely. But the stupid thing talked like a person and annoyed me like everything else. Didn’t trust me? Well, I didn’t trust it, not after it drove a wedge between me and Derick. My parents were dead, all of them. Mark killed his parents. The six of us remaining couldn’t run forever. We’d never make it to a sanctuary, and even if we did, we’d still have to leave to buy food. Hiding in an abandoned building for the rest of time didn’t sound like fun. Not at all.
“Just show me,” I whispered, “and I promise I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens. We need help.”
Very well. But you will regret this.
“What the hell is going on down here?” Mr. Banaan yelled, storming down the narrow path between dunes to the beach. “Will! Will!”
Fear pricked at my skin, and I slunk against the backrest of the lounger, trying to melt away into the darkness. Why now? Of all the bad timing!
Derick perked up and grabbed his father’s shirt collar, pulling him to the other side of my chair, well within the shadows.
Will stretched his arms over his head and yawned, displaying just the right amount of indifference to get his dad’s attention on only him. “Long time no see. What’s up?”
“What’s up? What’s up?” Mr. Banaan leaned in close to Will’s face. “I think you know.”
Turning his head to the side, Will squinted at his father. “You feeling okay? You’re repeating yourself.”
“You can play this game all you like, William Banaan, but I just got a call from the Coast Guard informing me that my yacht sunk to the bottom of Sarasota Bay. Where’s Harvey? What were you doing out there?”
“Abby, how close are you?” Mrs. Crawford asked.
I jumped and slowly looked to see if they’d overheard us.
“Don’t worry. We’re hidden.”
“Oh. Right.” Ignoring the argument between Will and his dad, I looked down at the image of the door drawn onto the page. “I can do it now.”
“Hurry.”
I touched the paper, and the world around me melted away. No more sand or gentle waves. No more parent and child shouting matches. Just sounds of a spring-like breeze rustling leaves and birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. Smiling, I walked up the flat stone path to the wooden door in the gray-brick wall. I pushed away thick ivy vines and twisted the rusted knob. It was locked.
“What are you waiting for?” I heard Mrs. Crawford ask, drawing a curtain of black over the brilliant blue sky.
“I have watched her father do this many times,” Mr. Crawford whispered. “You have to be quiet.”
Closing my eyes, I focused on the feel of the knob in my hand: warm, bumpy with thick layers of decaying metal. I pictured the other side of the door and everything I imagined Kalós had to offer us. Help. Training. War. Leadership. Fear. Power. Love.
An exciting shock ran through my nerves, and my heart raced. I wanted this to work. I wanted to know what the other planes held. Trying the knob again, I turned it, and this time the door opened—
“Do you think this is a joke?” Carl Banaan yelled, closing the curtain before I had a chance to see what I’d done. “The last thing I need is for the Coast Guard to investigate. I have enough strikes against my record. Who was with you?”
“I think I’ve done it,” I said, smiling, yet unable to do anything but watch. Carl Banaan’s face flared with an angry red rage, and he flailed his hands, nearly smacking Will a few times.
“You did well.” Mrs. Crawford took my hand. “We need to go.”
We couldn’t leave Will like this. Alone with a murderer for hire. “He’s going to find out Will helped us, and he’s going to kill him.”
Carl turned his head slightly. “Funny thing is, Abigail, I already know.”
I froze. How can he see us?
“He’s possessed”—Mrs. Crawford squeezed my fingers—“by a Favlosi with an ability to see through certain invisibility powers.”
Derick jumped over the lounge chair and stood in front of me.
“What on earth do you think you’re going to do for her, child?” Mr. Banaan smiled, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve already gone a few rounds with you. You’re not very powerful for a supernatural.”
Will offered Megan a hand and helped her up, then pushed between her shoulder blades and mouthed ‘go’. My best friend locked eyes with me, tears welling, cheeks reddening. I knew somehow she felt like this was goodbye, that we’d never see each other again, never laugh and talk about school, never cry and talk about how stupid boys are.
I love you, silly girl. Run. Run and never look back.
She nodded, then took off toward the house, running along a narrow sandy path between two dunes. But Boredas and Ruckus darted from the tall grasses and ran into her. Megan screamed as they each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her back to the beach, then tossed her to Will’s feet. She scrambled behind him, her fingers digging into his biceps.
“Why do you betray me?” Carl asked, turning back to his son. “You have everything money can buy, and yet you go behind my back and help these people, these people who bring war to our home!”
“Money doesn’t buy love.” Will squared his shoulders and took a step forward, gently shucking off Megan. “You should know that. You couldn’t buy mom’s love. She doesn’t even act human anymore, just cares about sterile walls and good grades and outward appearances, just like you. You promised me you’d always be here, ride jet skis with me every winter and summer break. But when’s the last time you showed up?”
“William, I—”
“I’m not finished.” Will balled his fists at his sides. “You want to know the worst thing? The worst of all is that you want me to love you, but you don’t do anything to deserve it.”
“Right. I thought this might be about your mother.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll get her the help she needs.”
Instead of yelling and screaming about how dense his father acted, Will looked at him with pity. Carl Banaan didn’t have a grasp on the reality of his life, and he didn’t understand what he’d involved himself in. Kalóans didn’t bring war to Earth, but Carl certainly led war to his home. This was all his fault—mostly all his fault.
“You’re wasting my time.” Ruckus sauntered toward me, a wide grin on his face. “The girl’s opened the planes. I feel the presence of my brothers and sisters in this place.” He met my eyes. “Step away from the shadows, dear ones. The prize you seek is here. Kill her, take the book, and do whatever you wish with the others.”
“Now would be a good time for the heroes to show up,” I said, backing away slowly so as not to draw attention.
Cold, wet arms wrapped around me from behind. “There are no heroes in this story, Abby.”
I whirled. “Mark?”
He smiled sweetly. “What? You thought because Derick’s father gave you that book that meant you should trust him—or it?”
“Derick, a little help?”
Derick didn’t come for me though; he turned on his parents and grabbed his father by the throat. “You better have a really good explanation for what he just said. If I find out you’ve been working against us… I am not in the mood to lose my parents, too, and if you had anything to do with the situation we’re in right now…”
Blood swelled under Mr. Crawford�
�s skin, and his eyes bulged. I’d never seen Derick so angry, so eager to fight. Even when he saved me from Boredas and Ruckus, Derick didn’t have this much hate in his eyes. He was carefree then. Now, his gaze was severe, focused, and he squeezed his father’s neck until the skin and fat hid the tips of his fingers.
“I don’t know”—Mr. Crawford wheezed—“I swear.”
“Stop! He’s your dad, Derick. You can’t do this.”
“Why not? I thought Mark was just a prick who thought he was in love with you, and now look at him. He’s holding you hostage, blood on his hands. Who’s to say my dad’s any different?”
“Oh, let them kill each other.” Mark flexed his arms, stealing my breath, and dragged me backward. “I think I’ll like watching him suffer. Proud, overly confident Derick Crawford finally met his match: dear old dad. Besides, what does it matter to you? You’re going to die anyway.”
“How could you?” I thought back to the self-defense lessons my dad gave me. The eyes, neck, nose, knees, and groin being the most sensitive made the best places to attack. Keep him talking. “I thought you were my friend.”
“You thought a lot of things, Abby. You were wrong about most.” He put his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Let’s look at the facts: my parents were sworn to your family, before the better side of me slaughtered them; everywhere the Crawfords lived, they brought death upon the Guardians they intended to protect… just like your precious father; and when you were playing damsel in distress, Boredas injected me with the most special gift—”
“Mark…” Letting him ruin his life because he’d helped me wasn’t something I thought I could live with. I took a deep breath and met Derick’s eyes as he let go of his father and took a step toward us, then shook my head slightly. “None of this makes sense. What do your parents and the Crawfords have in common to my life?”
Mark chuckled. “The book.”
“The book?” Derick stepped to the side, inching closer and closer to the dunes, away from the path Mark took me on, and away from the path Boredas and Ruckus followed; Derick had a plan.