Knowledge Quickening

by D. S. Williams

  The finality of my break with Lucas came a week or so after my arrival in Mississippi, when a delivery truck arrived at the apartment with the rest of my belongings from Puckhaber Falls. My art supplies, clothes, books – every single one of my belonging had been carefully packed into cardboard packing crates and were delivered to Conal's doorstep. My heart shattered all over again as I unpacked and found a letter from Lucas in the top of one crate. For the rest of the day I'd stared at the sealed envelope, wavering between the desperate desire to open it and complete terror regarding what he might have written. For the sake of my own sanity, I chose not to read it. I was wavering on the wings of depression, as it was – nothing Lucas said would make it better. When Conal arrived home from work, I handed him the envelope, requesting he get rid of it. I couldn't bear to do it myself.

  As the weeks passed I began to crawl out of the doldrums I'd wallowed in, although I didn't recognize the change until Conal heard me laughing at an episode of 'The Big Bang Theory' and commented on it. Although my heart was still wounded and I missed Lucas desperately, I was coming to terms with my new life. Little by little, I returned to the living.

  We went out frequently, to dinner, the movies and Conal played tour guide on Sunday afternoons, showing me the sights of Jackson and the surrounding area. To all intents and purposes we were very good friends and I liked it that way. I didn't think I would become involved with another man, couldn't imagine loving someone else. My love for Lucas had been… was, all-encompassing. He could never be replaced in my heart.

  The Tremaine Pack had been informed of my arrival in Mississippi and Lyell Tremaine and his wife, Amoux had visited us for dinner one night, soon after my appearance. Amoux Tremaine was an attractive woman in her fifties, her black hair highlighted with silver streaks and her olive skin unlined. She greeted me with southern graciousness and didn't seem concerned about our living arrangements; although I was sure she must be curious as to the true nature of our relationship.

  Conal had explained the circumstances of my abrupt departure from Puckhaber Falls and the older Tremaines treated me sympathetically. They mutually agreed to keep the exact circumstances leading to my arrival in Mississippi from the pack. Lyell said they were naturally mistrustful and superstitious and would be fearful of my radically enhanced abilities.

  Lyell drew me to one side after dinner to ask about the pact with Lucas's Kiss. Whilst Conal and his mother cleared the dishes, Lyell explained I had the right to break the pact between the two groups, asking if I wished to do so. I shook my head, assuring him that despite breaking up with Lucas, I still considered them my friends. Lyell used his cell phone and contacted Lucas, telling him the pact between the werewolves and vampires remained in place. My heart plunged, knowing he was doing what I couldn't – contacting the people I loved most and considered family.

  “Ready to go?” Conal appeared in the doorway, striking in a white open-necked shirt and dark blue jeans, his feet encased in sturdy boots. The white shirt accentuated the olive tone of his skin, his toned arms darkened by the sun.

  I pulled a brush through my hair, flicking it up into a ponytail high on the back of my head before grabbing up my purse. “Yep.”

  Conal caught my hand in his. “You look beautiful,” he said softly.

  “Thank you.” We left the apartment to catch the elevator downstairs. Conal had invited me to a pack cookout and we were driving the hour and a half to Natchez, where the Tremaine pack lived in a community a little outside the city limits. It was my first visit and I'd dressed with care to meet the pack. I didn't want to embarrass either Conal or his parents.

  Conal drove his black pickup smoothly through the mid-afternoon traffic, keeping up a pleasant flow of conversation about work and our plans for the weekend. Conal had mastered the art of selecting entertainment for us, which didn't imply 'dating' – something he knew I'd shy away from doing. No intimate dinners in romantic restaurants, no events which smacked of anything other than two friends enjoying one another's company. I worried constantly that I wasn't being fair to him, but I couldn't bear the thought of not having him around. In these early days of my breakup, I clung to him like a lifeline. He was the one certain anchor in my life right now.

  My interest in our surroundings peaked as we reached the outskirts of Natchez and Conal pointed out various points of interest. I'd never visited Mississippi before and was gradually getting to know the area. I wasn't sure I could get used to the heat. In the early days of summer, it was humid and oppressive and without the air conditioning blowing in the cab, I imagined my clothes would be sticking to my skin.

  We drove through the heart of Natchez, before leaving behind the historical buildings and following a narrow road, which followed the edge of the Mississippi River. We drew into a small community and Conal pulled up outside a compact white house, its gardens planted smartly with a bright array of flowers, the lawn neatly mowed.

  “This is Mom and Dad's place,” he announced, coming around the truck to help me get out. I slipped down onto the ground, glad I'd chosen a white cotton shirt and apricot linen skirt, teamed with strappy flat sandals for the cook out. The natural materials were perfect for such humid weather and I felt reasonably comfortable, albeit somewhat nervous. Conal pointed out other houses in the wide street, naming who lived in them. It seemed every house in the area belonged to a member of the pack and I mentioned this to him.

  “It's convenient to live close together for the full moon, when we need to be able to access the woods. They're directly behind us, down beyond the river.”

  I smiled softly, shaking my head, and Conal squeezed my fingers. “What's amusing you?”

  “I sometimes forget you're a werewolf.”

  “That's because I don't constantly think about eating you. Only happens for three days a month,” he grinned wickedly. “And then I get out of the way, so it won't happen.”

  We walked around the side of the house and I could hear the steady murmur of voices from the garden beyond. As we turned into the yard, I was assaulted by a wave of sound and color, with people everywhere. Some were standing in groups, others sitting in clusters under the shade of spreading trees. There was a big pool with dozens of kids jumping and splashing in the water.

  Conal drew me through the crowd, introducing members of the pack and reacquainting me with some I'd met in New Orleans after our rescue. Kenyon greeted me with a warm hug, whilst in contrast; Phelan Walker voiced an icy hello and walked away. He was noticeably uncomfortable in my presence, but at least he'd said hello. I'd take what I could get.

  Conal led me further through the crowd and I lifted my fingers to my head, rubbing at the slight pounding of a headache behind my eyes. “Charlotte? You okay?” When I looked up, Conal was eyeing me with concern.

  I nodded. “Touching people lets new spirits into my head; I haven't managed to control that part yet. It gives me a headache until I've had time to process them all.”

  He squeezed my fingers softly. “I'll introduce you to my grandmother and get you a drink.” He scanned the crowd and drew me towards an elderly woman holding court amongst a group of other older ladies.

  “Conal, come and give me some sugar!” She eyed me with undisguised interest. “Who is this lovely young lady?”

  Conal leaned over, kissing her cheek affectionately. “Hey Nonny. This is my friend, Charlotte Duncan. Charlotte, this is my grandmother, Juanita Tremaine.”

  The elderly woman held her hands to her cheeks, her mouth opening with delight. “Come sit by me, child. We have a lot to talk about.” She turned to the woman sitting next to her. “Move on over, Bonnie. The pack made a treaty with vampires for this girl. I want to learn some more about her.”

  “Now Nonny, don't you go frightening her,” Conal warned mildly, but he winked at me as Juanita drew me down onto the chair beside her. “I'll be back in a minute, Charlotte.”

  I watched helplessly as he disappeared into the crowd then turned back to Juanita Tremaine w
ith a nervous smile. I guessed by the fine wrinkles etched into her skin and the whiteness of her hair that she must be in her eighties. Her face showed signs of faded beauty, suggesting she'd been a stunner in her youth. She had piercing black eyes, the same color and shape as Conal's and she studied my face carefully, appraising every detail. “You're a beautiful young woman, Charlotte. I can see why my grandson likes you so much.”

  My cheeks reddened, the heat rushing up my face. “I like him, too.”

  “Not the way he wants you to, I hear.” I searched her face for some sign of judgment, but found nothing. Her expression was smooth and calm as she watched me astutely. “But we can't choose who we love.”

  “No, we can't,” I admitted shyly.

  “My son Lyell tells me you have very a special gift.” She offered her hand and I took it, knowing what she sought. Around us, the other women watched keenly as I heard the voices spilling into my head like a slow trickle of water.

  I listened until I detected the strongest voice, typically an indication of someone important. “Your husband, Rafael, is with me. He's a very handsome man. He says he loves you and misses you. He remembers the dances you went to and how much you loved to waltz.” I caught sight of the necklace she wore, a gold chain with a little bird-shaped charm, its wings outspread. “Rafael gave you that necklace on your fiftieth birthday. He says you reminded him of a bird, free and soaring through life with honesty and love. It was his favorite thing about you, the way you accepted everyone and the love you demonstrate for your family and friends.”

  She squeezed my fingers tenderly, eyes shining with unshed tears and her hand soft and warm in mine. “You are indeed very special, Charlotte.”

  Conal appeared, handing me a plastic cup and I sipped from it gratefully. It was icy cold and the welcome sweet coolness trickled down the back of my throat as I swallowed.

  “Sweet tea. You're in the south, now,” he explained with a grin.

  “It's yummy,” I announced, sipping from the cup again.

  Conal held out his hand. “C'mon, let's get something to eat.” I took his hand and let him draw me to my feet.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tremaine.”

  “Call me Nonny, everybody does,” she said with a sweet smile. “And Conal, you bring her back to talk with me later, you hear?”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Conal said, winking at the older woman.

  I held the drinks whilst Conal piled plates high with food from the vast tables sitting in the center of the lawn. Conal led me through the crowd, finding a quiet area near the banks of the Mississippi, which ran along the rear of Lyell Tremaine's property. I sat down on the warm grass, enjoying the tranquility of gazing out over the water, after the hustle and bustle of the Tremaine cookout.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Conal asked quietly. He was sitting cross-legged, his plate sitting on his lap, a bottle of Corona in his hand.

  “I am, actually.” I pulled some of the marinated meat from a barbecued chicken drumstick, popping it into my mouth.

  “You sound surprised,” he commented, sipping his beer.

  “I guess I am.” I glanced across at him, dropping the drumstick back onto my plate. “I wasn't certain I could feel happy again,” I confessed.

  “It's my charming personality that's making the difference.”

  “Sure it is.” I laughed, picking up the drumstick and throwing it at him.

  With instinctual reflexes, he caught the drumstick between his thumb and forefinger and immediately put it in his mouth, chewing some meat off it. “My grandmother likes you,” he commented when he'd finished eating, throwing the remains back onto his empty plate.

  “She's wonderful,” I said. “I enjoyed talking with her.”

  He eyed the crowds around us, their noise creating a hubbub in the still June evening. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure.” I got to my feet and Conal disposed of the rubbish before catching my hand in his and leading me along the edge of the river. We walked in silence for a few minutes, moving closer to the woods, which cut away at the curve of the river. “It's not full moon tonight, is it?”

  He shook his head. “No, it's not a full moon tonight. Besides, it won't be full dark for a while yet. You would still be safe.”

  I giggled nervously and Conal moved closer, his fingers warm against mine. “You don't mind leaving the party for a bit? All those voices give me a headache after a while.”

  “No, I don't mind. All those voices give me a headache too, and I'm dealing with the ones outside my head and inside.”

  We walked in silence along the riverside and a fresh gentle breeze blew up from the river, cooling the dampness of my skin. Crickets began to chirrup as Conal led me along the path that entered the woods. The light faded a little, as the trees grew thicker around us.

  “Sure it's not a full moon tonight?”

  Conal stopped walking and turned to face me. “Of course it's not a full moon. You know,” he moved closer to me, fingers brushing a tendril of hair back from my face, “I would never put you in any danger, Charlotte.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  For a long moment he gazed down at me, his eyes filled with affection, his breathing slow and steady as he watched me. “Charlotte. Do you think…” he paused, inhaling sharply. “Is there any chance you could love me? Even a little bit?”

  I didn't know what to say and wished I could escape the longing in his black eyes. What did I feel? I cared for him, but I wasn't sure I could ever love him. Not the way he wanted. “I can't tell you what you want to hear,” I finally admitted sadly, lowering my gaze.

  He caught my chin and lifted my face so he could look into my eyes, his fingertips warm against my skin. “Don't be sorry. I think I have enough love for both of us.” He paused, studying me intently. “What would you say if I wanted to kiss you?” he said huskily, his voice only just above a whisper.

  I swallowed anxiously. “I think I would say… yes.”

  He captured my face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. His lips were soft and pliant, the warmth of his mouth causing a tendril of desire to ignite and flare low in my body. I wrapped my arms around his waist and he dropped one arm around my back, his other hand holding the back of my head and angling my face the way he wanted. His lips grew more insistent against mine, teeth nibbling gently across my lower lip until I opened my mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, firm and unrelenting as he explored the bare skin of my back under his hand. He pulled me closer until our bodies were aligned and my knees went weak at the thought of his muscular body pressed against mine, only thin layers of clothing between us. His heart pounded rapidly, matching the rhythm of my own as he released my lips and trailed a row of kisses down my cheek, across my neck and over my shoulder.

  Conal breathed heavily when he released me, a broad smile deepening the dimples in his cheeks. “I think we should go back.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. Hell no,” he reassured me huskily. “But if we stay here any longer, I'm gonna want to do so much more than just kiss you.”

  “Oh.” I was startled by his honesty and blushed furiously.

  With a delighted grin, he captured my hand in his and we headed back to the party.

  Chapter 25: Nonny

  The party was quieter by the time we walked back to the Tremaines yard; many of the younger couples with children had headed home.

  Nonny Tremaine spied us walking back and waved us over to where she sat, her eyes twinkling with delight.

  “What have you been up to, Conal Tremaine?” she demanded when we reached her side.

  “Nothing, Nonny.” I saw Conal wink at his grandmother. “I took Charlotte for a walk by the river.”

  “Nice night for a moonlit walk,” Nonny said with a knowing grin.

  I blushed furiously and Conal grinned sheepishly at his grandmother. “What's up, Nonny?”

  The elderly woman looked at me pointe
dly. “Sit down, child. I would like to talk to you some more, now those old busybodies have gone on home to their beds.”

  I met Conal's eyes and he shrugged, pulling a chair over so I could sit beside his grandmother. He sat alongside me, clasping my hand in his. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I've been thinking about Charlotte's gift and I know from what an old lady hears when she's supposed to be sleeping, that there are some other things going on, things the pack haven't been told,” Nonny began.

  “Nonny, have you been eavesdropping?” Conal asked good-naturedly. He squeezed my fingers. “Don't worry, Nonny isn't big on superstitions.”

  “Not all superstitions, young man, have any foundation in truth,” Nonny scolded him. “But sometimes, superstitions and stories from the history of our pack should be remembered and recognized. I think young Charlotte is one of them.”

  Conal looked mystified, his eyes narrowing as he watched his grandmother. “What are you talking about, Nonny?”

  Nonny glanced around the still-crowded yard. “Not something we should discuss here. Too many people. Can you pick me up tomorrow and take me for a drive? I'll tell you more then. And we need to visit someone for more information.”

  For a long moment, Conal stared at his grandmother, watching her shrewdly as if he was silently appraising what she'd said. “Alright, Nonny. We'll come by and pick you up. What time?”

  “About ten.” She reached across and squeezed my fingers gently. “I think I can help to explain your abilities, Charlotte. I'll see you tomorrow morning.” Patting my arm, she turned to Conal. “It's about time this old lady was in her bed. Conal, you can have the honor of helping me into the house.”

  Conal stood up, helping his grandmother to her feet. “I'll be right back,” he promised and I watched him help the tiny old woman across the lawn and into the house.

  On the drive back to Jackson, Conal and I discussed what Nonny had hinted. “Do you think she really does know what's going on with me?”