Does she really think I’m some sort of threat to her throne? She’s out of her mind. I have no desire to be the center of attention. In fact, all this relational intensity is too much. Community doesn’t seem to be working out so well for me.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” Harper mashes the herbs in a wooden bowl. “Unless you’re injured, this room is reserved for Healers.”
There are other words I’d use to describe her, but I withhold my insult and walk out of the room. I have no idea what Devon sees in her, but he’s much better off running the other way.
As I enter the café, a symphony of voices collides in eager anticipation and panicked dread. It’s clear by the tension pulsing through the room that Council will take over tomorrow and everything is definitely going to change.
I search over the sea of people and find Devon. He’s at the pastry counter having a late lunch. Maddox, however, is in the back corner of his alcove, packing. When he spots me, his concentrated expression morphs into concern. Abandoning his backpack, he hurries over to me. “Everything okay?” His voice is hushed. “You were gone a while. I wasn’t sure if . . .”
“If the beasts tracked me down?” I back up against the banister, putting distance between us. “No. Not that I know of.”
Maybe it’s the sharp tone of my voice or my accusing expression, but Maddox seems taken aback, almost hurt. “Are you still cool with leaving in the morning or . . . did something happen?”
I study him. His eyes are an endless font of wild, impossible thoughts hidden behind a veil of shaggy blond hair, masking his scar. As the Current flares between us, Maddox swallows thick and then drops his gaze to the ground.
I had every intention of calling him out about his brother, but his reaction makes me back down. That, and something about his clean ocean scent warming the air between us softens my will. It’s clear that we’re both after the same thing—taking down the creatures and saving lives. Maybe our motives differ, but the goal is the same. We can work alongside each other, and that’s it. Just because I offered my reasoning to him freely doesn’t mean he owes me an explanation for why he wants to leave. I shouldn’t have expected one.
When I step back, I bump into the mosaic table. The design is clearly a hurricane with a path of destruction headed right toward the middle of the café. Leaving might be the best thing for everyone. I rest my hand on the edge and feel the smooth glass with my fingertips. “I’m all in.”
“In for what?” Devon walks up. He gives Maddox a suspicious side-eye glance.
Maddox doesn’t miss a beat. “The gathering tonight. Our final night as family before Council takes over.”
“It’ll be a good time.” Devon’s smile doesn’t hide his downcast tone. He places a hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “As for Council, I’ve got your back, man. I promise, things will work out.”
Maddox nods, but guilt flickers in his eyes. He hooks his thumbs on his jean pockets with a slight shrug.
Devon’s phone chimes. Taking it out of his pocket, he checks the number. “It’s Gladys.” He walks a few paces away where it’s quieter.
I pull Maddox aside. “I want Devon to come with us.”
Maddox raises his eyebrows. “He’s too close to Council, and he’s got . . . obligations. He won’t—”
“Cera!” Juniper rushes through the café to meet me but stops dead in her tracks when she sees Maddox. “Oh, hi.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as her cheeks turn rosy pink.
Devon is making his way back over. He looks concerned. “Juniper, take Cera. I want the two of you to train with Harper the rest of the afternoon. Sit in on what she does.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not a Healer, Devon, and you know it. That would be a waste of time. Give me pointers to fight instead. Or at least teach me how to protect people.”
Devon glances at my swollen jaw. “Cera, remember what I said? Filter your outbursts. And have Harper give you something for the swelling and bruising.”
Ugh. Why is he so insistent that I hang out with Harper when he’s the one who wants to be with her? She insulted me, and now I’ve got to beg for healing? I don’t think so.
Devon must pick up on my resistance because he takes me by the elbow. When he says, “Gladys found your mom,” and walks me near the hallway, I go willingly.
“What did she say?”
He stops. “It’s best to have Harper look at your bruise, see what she can do, before your mom sees you.”
An image of Mom white-knuckling the steering wheel as she barrels down the road in the rental truck pops into my head. “Is she on her way?” I glance at the front hall as my insides flare with a momentary freak-out. I’m supposed to leave in the morning with Maddox. If she walks through that door, how on earth will I tell her I’m not going with her? Her coming here will ruin everything. I know for a fact she won’t let me stay.
“Gladys is working out those details, but it sounds like she’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. For real? I’m not sure what Gladys told her, but that doesn’t sound like Mom at all.”
Devon nods. His eyes are honest and . . . somber. He’s telling the truth, but I’m perplexed by his expression. Unless, like everyone else around here, the sadness has to do with Council taking over. Maybe it’s because he said Council believes he has no control and lets too many things slide. In my short time here, I’ve done more than my share of giving him grief.
He hesitates and then says, “Your mom’s not well.”
“What do you mean by ‘not well’? Can I call her?”
Devon shakes his head. “She’s not—they’re taking care of her. She has a high fever and slips in and out of consciousness. She isn’t talking much. Gladys wants her to rest tonight. They’ll try bringing her in the morning to see if they can figure out what’s wrong.”
I’m stunned and confused. “Is she . . .” I swallow. “She’ll be okay, though. Right? I mean, she had a cough, but it was getting better.”
“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Devon puts a hand on my shoulder. “Have Harper take care of you so your mom won’t be concerned when she sees you in the morning.”
I nod, despite the fact that I don’t want to be anywhere near Harper-the-horrible. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“It’s what family does. Now head over and see Harper.”
Juniper comes up and puts her arm around mine. “Ready? Maybe I can help a little.”
Maddox joins us and looks at me. “Talk later?”
“I’ll find you after getting this”—I motion to my face—“taken care of.”
Maddox grins slightly. Devon pulls him aside as Juniper takes me off to Harper’s torture lab.
As we wait in the anteroom of Harper's clinic, Juniper walks the lab, inspecting the potions. Even though her hands stay behind her back, her fingers fidget, as if wishing to touch one.
Harper saunters in and drops a book on the table with a loud thunk and an equally menacing frown. Anatomy. I swear the book is a million pages thick. “Start here.”
“Are you serious?” I fan the pages, picking up a few words that sound about as foreign as some of the illustrations look.
Harper looks at me scornfully underneath her perfectly straight bangs. “How do you expect to heal someone if you don’t know what’s going on inside? You’ve got to look beyond the surface and visualize what could be happening internally. If you don’t, then this isn’t your Bent and you’ll end up doing more damage than good.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not a Healer.” I shove the book aside. Juniper pulls out a wooden bench, sits at the table, and, taking the book with eager hands, practically devours the pages. I have to be careful. I don’t want to get Harper angry if she’s going to heal Mom in the morning. “I’ll leave that Bent to truly gifted people, like you,” I say. “Devon said he wanted me to give it a try, but I only want to get something for the swelling in my jaw. I feel a click when I open it.”
A sm
ile curls in the corner of her red lips. “You’re not as dumb as I thought. At least you can recognize where you don’t belong.”
Her subtext comes through loud and clear. For Mom’s sake, and maybe Devon’s too, I bite my tongue before a litany of vitriolic insults launches out of my mouth. Here I am trying to be nice, trying to build a bridge . . .
“A warm lavender and Epsom salt wrap will work.” Juniper’s happy voice wedges through the tense air. “I’ve made one before and can try if you want.” She studies my jawline. “I’d have to wrap your head with a bandage to keep the salt pack secure. It’s also best if you lie down awhile. You know, to reduce swelling and all . . .” She clasps her hands together as she eyes me with an almost pleading expression.
I sigh. “I’ll only lie down for a few minutes. I’ve got things to take care of.”
Juniper jumps off the bench. “You’re meeting with Maddox later, I know.”
Harper gives me a suspicious glance. “Give her some of this.” She takes a small cup and pours a teaspoon of the pink liquid. “It’ll take away the bruise.”
Juniper sniffs the liquid. “It smells like pineapple.” Her eyes grow wide, as if she’s uncovered a secret. “Is it bromelain?”
“Only part of it,” Harper replies. “That mix is called Gloss.”
“You made this?” Juniper is in awe as she hands me the cup. “Can you teach me?”
“Get through the book. When you’re ready, then maybe I will.”
Harper watches as I swig the pineapple-flavored liquid in one gulp. It tastes sweet and bitter all at once. When I set the cup on the table, she tells me, “Go next door and lie down so Juniper can wrap your head.”
I do as she says and plop myself onto the cot near the door. Juniper doctors me up and then says, “Lie here a while. The wrap should take no more than thirty minutes, and the swelling will be gone. Promise.” She rushes back to Harper, shutting the door behind her. Alone in the room, I lie on the cot, waiting. I hate waiting. It accomplishes nothing, and endless thoughts just ricochet through my brain.
I stare at the stucco ceiling. What am I going to tell Mom when her fever breaks and she comes in the morning? If I’m even still here. Maddox didn’t say what time we’d leave. I can just see Mom totally lose it if she gets here and I’m gone. Plus, she’s not well. Guilt floods my chest at the thought of leaving her behind. At least I’m not abandoning Mom the same way Dad did. I’m giving her freedom. Harper will heal her, and then she can live wherever she wants and not worry about me. Maybe she’ll even meet someone new, and if I’m not around, she won’t have to bother explaining me. I can go to the new safe house with Maddox and then let her know I’m all right.
The way I see things, right now, I’ve got three choices: I could wait around for Mom in the morning and spend the rest of my life tethered to her side as we uproot and flee, knowing others will die. Or I can stay here under Council’s thumb, learn all there is about my Bent—which frankly sounds ridiculously unappealing because I know being a Seer means being locked up and never fighting the enemy. No. The only option that feels right is leaving with Maddox. I know I’ll attract the beasts wherever I go, but if we can plan an ambush and use my Bent to lure and destroy them, then I’ll take it.
I can’t get back any of the innocent lives lost from my past visions, but I can try to stop more from being affected. I can’t imagine doing anything other than finding other Awakened, saving lives, and annihilating those hideous creatures of death. Maybe it won’t change the world, but maybe it will change one life. That is enough.
Bursts of laughter exploding from the café startle me awake. No, no, no. I fell asleep? I sit up on the cot. My feet find the floor as I stumble through the dark to the bathroom in the back room. I slide the door shut and find the light switch.
After a moment of adjusting to the assaulting light, I dare myself to peer at the mirror. The wrap is gone and the bruise is slowly fading. I open my jaw with ease. It’s amazing that I healed so fast. I just wish I didn’t feel like my veins were flowing with plutonium. Maybe the side effect of one of the herbs in the Gloss—or whatever it was Harper gave me—causes grogginess. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful the nasty bruise is gone and I can eat again, but Harper could have at least warned me that I’d fall asleep. I was supposed to meet Maddox. We haven’t discussed when everyone is leaving. I have no idea what time it is. Only that the hall outside Harper’s room is dark, which means it’s probably night.
I rinse out my mouth, do my best to tame my hair, and trudge to the café. Down the hall, pulsing guitars race alongside the steady beat of a bass drum. I follow the scent of warm bread. It’s the final celebration here at Hesperian. I’ve slept for eight hours. At least.
I can’t make my way through the room without bumping into people. Tables and chairs have been pushed along the wall near Maddox’s alcove to create an overcrowded buffet, stacked with every kind of food and dessert imaginable.
Eighty or more people crowd the café as they face the makeshift stage set up behind the entry hall. The audience taps their feet, singing an upbeat song I don’t recognize. With this many bodies in the room, the air feels warmer than usual. I take a dinner roll off the top of a pyramid-stacked platter and work my way through the crowd to find Maddox.
“Finally woke up?” Devon is beside me holding a plastic cup.
“No one warned me I’d be knocked out for a while. That’s super unnerving and frankly a bit psychopathic.”
Devon smiles. “You’re less trouble asleep.”
I glare at him. “That was your idea?”
“No!” Devon laughs. “But it wasn’t a bad one.”
Someone’s elbow jabs me in the back. My body tightens. I turn to see who it was. Everyone around me is deep in animated conversation, arms flailing, oblivious to the fact that we’re standing in such a tight space.
“You’ve never been to this big of a party, huh?” Devon asks over the steady drumbeat.
I’ve never been to any parties. “Is it that obvious?
“You look like you’re about to unleash on anything that comes your way. It’s a crowd, just relax.”
“Relax. In a crowd. Yeah, right. That’s a total oxymoron.” Not only that, I’m still in a drug stupor, and it’s making me super crabby.
“Who’s the moron?” Kellan appears beside me, flask in hand. He holds it out, offering a sip.
I shake my head and push his hand away. “You’re the moron if you think I’m having any more of Harper’s Spike, or Gloss, or whatever other voodoo concoctions she mixes.”
Kellan nearly spits out his drink. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. He wipes the smirk and the Spike off his lips with the back of his sleeve. “Wow. That’s quite a bite you’ve got tonight.”
“She’s probably hungry.” Devon eyes the dinner roll I’m holding. Even though I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right, I rip off a bite of the bread anyway.
Over the steady beat and crooning guitar, a girl’s voice, as smooth as melting honey, serenades the room with a wistful tune. The entranced audience sways to give me a clear shot of the singer. And it’s Harper. Of course it is.
Devon stands transfixed as she soaks up the spotlight. Next to her, Maddox rests on a stool in a casual stance, playing guitar. As he sings, the anthem flows from some deep part within him, oblivious to the crowd. When his smooth tenor voice sings a line about belonging, a restless ache rises within me. Guilt? Possibly, since I know I’m leaving Hesperian, leaving this community, and Mom behind.
Harper joins at the chorus, her voice a perfect handhold to Maddox’s tenor. The way they sing, the two of them seem right together. I glance at Devon. He swirls the drink in his hand as if it’s suddenly lost flavor. No doubt he feels it too.
I glance back at the stage as Amide pounds out the beat on the drums.
Maddox’s gaze finds me in the crowd and lingers before he glances back at his fingers during a complicated ri
ff. Has to be my imagination. I’m hidden in the swarming mass. But on the next verse, his eyes lock on mine as he belts out a line about his whole world changing. Maddox is no longer singing as if he’s alone in the room. I don’t grasp the exact words because, not only does he finish the song without taking his eyes off of me, but I can feel the crowd follow his line of sight. I step back, hoping to hide in Devon’s shadow.
I’m not a fan of being put on the spot. I know Maddox is speaking to me about leaving and starting over, but that’s not how it’s coming across. He shouldn’t look at me that way . . . all hopeful but somehow lost. Now a thousand pinwheels flutter in my stomach. What’s worse is that Harper realizes Maddox’s stormy look is fixed in my direction. She flings her hair over her shoulder with a menacing stare. As the audience applauds, I look down and pretend to study the grooves in the stone floor.
Kellan nudges me with his elbow. “Wanna grab something t’eat?”
“Mm, yeah. That’d be great.” I spin around to follow Kellan as he cuts through the crowd, making a path to the back of the room.
I haven’t taken two steps when Harper calls me out from the stage. “Cera, why don’t you come up and read some of your work?” The microphone squeals. I stop dead in my tracks. My heart punches my throat as the crowd parts around me.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Read us one of your poems. Is that what they are?” Harper’s syrupy tone drips, too sticky sweet. She clutches the microphone stand two-handed, and a fake smile is on her glossy lips. If her eyes were daggers, she’d be carving out my soul. “No? Why don’t I read one, since you’re too shy?”
Maddox sets his guitar down. “Harper, don’t.”
Harper frowns and turns her back to Maddox as she pulls a sheet of crinkled notebook paper out of her pocket. Unfolding the scrap, she clears her throat before affecting a dramatic voice. “I’m awful at this . . .”
Laughter rumbles through the audience. She found my notes? I want to die. My face burns hot, and my cemented legs won’t let me run.
Mortal Sight Page 20