Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1)

by Amy Reece

  “Grams, I’m scared by all of this. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t think I can help Veronica.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “It will all turn out to be all right, you’ll see. Now, why don’t we talk about something different? Why don’t you tell me how things are progressing with that young man of yours?”

  “He’s not ‘my young man,’” I protested. “I don’t even know what that means. We’re friends. I think. I mean, I’ve only really known him for a couple weeks. I hope we’re friends.”

  “Of course, you’re friends. Anyone can see that. A more discerning person, like myself, can see that there’s more to it than mere friendship though, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, Grams.” I dropped my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. “Of course I hope there’s more to it, but I don’t think he agrees.”

  “You don’t see what the rest of us see,” Grams said.

  “I wish that were true. But Grams, he has issues. He thinks he’s too old for me because he’s 18. And he’s on probation.”

  “Yes, well, he’s managed to turn himself around. Be patient with him, Ally. Give him some time. He has a good heart. I can tell.” She gave me a secretive smirk, which for some reason both of us found hilarious.

  ***

  The next week at school was fairly uneventful as far as Veronica was concerned. We did nothing more than exchange the barest of greetings. At this rate we would be graduated before I was able to figure anything out. Equally concerning, at least to me, was my relationship, or lack thereof, with Jack. Was it my imagination, or did he seem to be cooling off toward me? Last week we had been laughing, spending time texting, and talking at lunch. This week he seemed more distant. We still worked together in physics, but he seemed to sit farther away from me. In English he didn’t lean forward near as often to crack a joke. And worst of all, he didn’t text me in the evenings. There were no offers of a ride home in his newly painted Mustang. What had I done? Did he decide I was too freaky? Had he found someone he liked better? Someone maybe closer to his own age, like some skanky senior girl? The possibility of a nice senior girl was, of course, impossible.

  Thank goodness for Tara. She patiently listened and made all the appropriate noises and gestures. She had been there for me two years ago during the Travis fiasco and I had always been there for her when her heart was broken. Tara had a lot more experience than I did when it came to dating, but was currently single. My experience with Travis—you try being dumped for another guy—had put me off the whole dating scene. Well, that and my total lack of popularity. It’s not that I lack any attractive qualities; I can be objective enough to admit that I have a few. I have fairly nice features, no giant nose or anything, and I have nice skin. I’m not at all fat, but I am pretty short—really short, like 5’ 1’’. And the red hair is definitely an acquired taste. I was really hoping that Jack had acquired it. Tara, on the other hand, is tall and model-thin, yet with nice curves, broad shoulders and a flair for making whatever she happens to throw on look amazing. I hate her sometimes. She never seems to pine for a guy; if she likes him then of course he likes her. Why wouldn’t he? She totally goes for it, even asks a guy out if she wants to. And the guys always accept.

  “So, just ask him. What’s the big deal?” Tara asked while painting her nails with my new light blue nail polish in my bedroom.

  “I don’t know.” I flopped back on the bed. “I can’t! It’s not like that.”

  “It’s always like that, Ally. Ask him already. If he’s not interested, then move on. But I think he’s interested.” She blew on her nails to dry them.

  I sat up quickly. “What? Why? What did he say?” I grabbed for her hands.

  “Hey! Watch the nails!” She pulled them out of my reach. “He didn’t say anything. At least not to me. I can just tell. It’s the way he looks at you. The way he’s always rescuing you, whether you need it or not.”

  I flopped back down. “Yeah, well, that’s all done with. He barely talks to me anymore.” I grabbed my pillow and hugged it.

  “Well, I think you should confront him about it. This is the new paradigm, Ally. We are women! We don’t have to wait for the guy to act anymore.” Easy for her to say. “Loser!” she taunted. I threw my pillow at her. “Hey, watch the nails!”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him about it. Probably. Maybe.” Definitely not.

  “First though, you promised me I could give you a makeover. Remember, we need to make you irresistible before you confront him. I think his parole officer must have scared him off after that whole pregnancy fiasco last week. He probably told Jack to stay the hell away from you,” she said in entirely too off-hand a manner.

  “It’s probation, not parole. Don’t make him seem like more of a criminal than he is,” I muttered.

  “Sorry. Hey, he’s not a criminal. I really like him and I think you two will be a great couple, which is why I’m so willing to help you snag him. You simply need to put yourself into my oh-so-capable hands so I can make you look older, slightly sultry, and totally do-able.”

  “Do-able? Yikes, Tara. Could we focus on him asking me out on a first date?”

  “Dream big, sweetie. It’s good to have a concrete goal in mind.” She blew on her nails. “Now, let’s discuss when this makeover is going to take place. What’s your schedule like next week after school?”

  “Well, since Jack stopped talking to me, my schedule is wide open,” I said as I hugged my stuffed dog.

  “Perfect. We’ll go after school, maybe Wednesday. I need to check my rehearsal schedule. Hey, how is your campaign to talk to Veronica going? Have you had any more visions?”

  “No, not since that last awful one. Jeez, Tara, I never wanted to see anything like that. And talking to her is going very slowly. We’re still pretty much on the one-word conversation level.”

  “Could it possibly be because she’s a dumb bitch?”

  “Tara! God, you’re mean,” I said. The thing is, I used to agree with her before I started getting my own personal Veronica-cam. Now I didn’t quite know what to think about her.

  “I tell it like it is. My nails are dry, so let’s go raid your kitchen and then watch a movie. I brought over several and I’ll let you choose. We can either watch Channing Tatum take his shirt off and save the President, or Brad Pitt save the world from zombies. Nothing like some hot eye candy to get your mind off that horrible vision.”

  “How am I supposed to choose between such hotties? You have to stay long enough to watch them both.”

  She laughed. “I can probably swing that. Hey, have you been thinking about the whole ‘Nick’ thing? Veronica calls the guy in the visions Nick. Do we know anyone named Nick? Anyone at school?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, but I really don’t think it’s someone our age.”

  “Well, what about a teacher?”

  “Eww, gross. I don’t know, I guess we could start looking into teachers’ first names. How many teachers do you think we have?” I gathered chips and salsa and diet sodas.

  “At least 40, and that’s not counting assistants or coaches or anything. Do we know anyone who’s an office aide? That would really help.”

  “Nope, and I have no idea if it’s even someone at school. It could be anyone she knows.”

  “Well, that’s great. Sounds kind of like a dead end, at least for now. Come on, let’s watch the movies.”

  ***

  My first session with Cassie came later that week. I don’t really know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t what I got. To begin with, we simply talked. That’s right. She didn’t use a crystal ball, do a séance, or even read tarot cards. When I asked her about this, she laughed and told me she occasionally used tarot cards for her clients, but only as a prop; she didn’t need cards to see what people desired. She asked me to describe, in detail, the visions I had experienced, what I was doing right before them, how I felt during and after them.

  “All rig
ht, Ally. The first order of business is to prevent you from passing out during these visions. You need to be able to have the experience and not attract extra attention, no matter how cute he may be.”

  I looked up at her sharply, amazement clearly on my face. She raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Now, I’m going to take you back through your visions. You’re going to focus on my pendant. Go ahead; stare at it and try not to blink too much.”

  I began to stare at the large silver pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. Of course, the second someone tells you not to blink, you can think of nothing else but your need to blink.

  “Now, I’m going to touch your hand. The power of touch is very important in a Seer. When I touch you, I want you to think back to your first vision about Veronica. I want you to concentrate on it and don’t be distracted. Don’t worry about the temperature in the room or whether or not you’ll pass out. I won’t let that happen.” She slowly reached out to touch my hand. Immediately I was transported in my mind back to the very first vision I had about Veronica. It was her red belt and The Scarlet Letter that had started it. Just like Hester Prynne, she had a secret pregnancy. And just like Hester, she was going to find it impossible to keep it secret for very long unless she did something more modern about it. More than anything, I could feel the intensity of her feelings, both the fear of her situation and her reluctance to end the pregnancy. She was curled up on her bathroom rug, crying, but I knew what she was feeling. In a weird way, I was the one curled up on the rug, not Veronica. I had a hard time distinguishing whether it was Veronica or me in the vision. I kept reaching further; now I could feel/see her worry that this would end the relationship with her boyfriend, Danny, whom she had not, contrary to everyone’s expectations, had a sexual relationship with. She knew she was running out of time. Hoping it would all go away wasn’t working. I could feel her confusion about her feelings for this Nick person who had gotten her pregnant.

  “Ally! Come back! Now!” Cassie removed her hand and I slowly fought my way back to myself.

  “Wow, Cassie. That was clearer than anything I’ve experienced. I saw deeper into the vision than I did the first time. What was it like, I mean in the room? Did it get really hot?”

  “It got a bit warm, but nothing too extreme or exceptionally noticeable. That’s what we’re looking for: you able to see clearly without the whole room knowing something odd is happening. Now, we have to get you to the point of being able to do it by yourself. The problem is how deep you went into the vision. I wasn’t sure you were going to come back on your own. You can’t ever let yourself go that deep.”

  “How do I do that? I didn’t intend to go that deep. Great, I’m getting worse instead of better.”

  “It will come, Ally. Don’t worry. Let’s try it again, now that you know what’s going to happen. Concentrate this time on controlling your reaction and how far into the vision you let yourself go.” She took my hand again and immediately I was back in the same vision of Veronica. I could see just as clearly, but I really thought about still being present in the room with Cassie. I would lose it for a minute and hear Cassie urge me to get it back. I don’t know how long this went on; keeping track of time was beyond me at this point. Finally, Cassie let go of my hand and I was back. “Much better, Ally. You’re a quick learner.”

  “Cassie,” I hesitated, “last time you said I might develop other types of powers. What did you mean?”

  “Well…” She stood up and began pacing around her office. Was she nervous? “Adele has told you that Seers usually manifest only one type of gift, I assume?” I nodded my assent. “Well, that’s almost always the case, especially in this day and age. In ancient times, Seers were much more powerful, but the gift has been much diluted through the ages as families have married outside of the ancient lines.”

  “Are you from the same family line as Grams and I?”

  “No. My family line traces back to the McTeige line in County Donegal, Ireland. But obviously, there has been much dilution along the way.” She gave an ironic smile, gesturing to her dark skin. “But every once in a while, a Seer is born who has the gift of the ancients. Your grandmother and I feel there’s a strong possibility that you are such a person. We’ll have to wait and see what else happens with your visions. They seem to be getting clearer each time.”

  I swallowed that bit of information down. “Do you have this ‘gift of the ancients’?” I asked. “What about Grams?”

  “No, our powers are much more limited than yours seem to be. I’m only able to touch a person and see what they see. “

  “I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Me being one, I mean.”

  “Completely understandable. For now, are you willing to follow the path?” Cassie looked at me hard.

  I swallowed again and nodded.

  “Good. Then let’s try something different. I want you to touch an object and see if you can sense anything about where it came from.”

  “Like Grams?”

  “Yes, like your Grams.” She walked to the shelf behind her desk and picked up a small, iridescent glass ball from a stand. She carefully placed it in my hands. “Now, stare at the ball.”

  It was beautiful, with pink, blue, and green streaks running across it. At first nothing at all happened. I felt stupid staring at a ball. Then, as I continued to focus, the streaks seemed to dance before my eyes. I stared harder. Suddenly, the ball became fuzzy and I began to see a crowd of people, chattering in what sounded like French. I could now tell that it was a gift shop, in a museum of some sort. Cassie was standing next to an extremely handsome black man, who was paying for the glass ball. They were laughing and he leaned down to kiss her. I could see the name of the shop, Musee D’Orsay, on the bag as he handed it to her with a smile. ‘To remember our dream trip,’ he said.

  I opened my eyes and smiled up at Cassie. “You got this in Paris, at the Musee D’Orsay gift shop. A very handsome man gave it to you.”

  She clapped her hands together in front of her mouth. “That’s wonderful, Ally. On the first try! Amazing! Do you realize that this means you have two powers already? I haven’t heard of that since…” she trailed off.

  “Cassie? Who is he? The guy in the vision?”

  She appeared to give herself a mental shake. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got caught up. That man is my fiancé, Gregory, and, yes, he’s very handsome. I’m no idiot.” She said as she smiled slyly.

  “When are you getting married?”

  “We’re planning a traditional June wedding. I’d rather elope to Vegas, but he insists.” She said it fondly, and I wondered how much she had protested. “All right, that’s enough for today. You must be beyond exhausted. Go home and get some rest. As I was leaving to go catch my bus, she said, “And I agree with Tara. You should ask Jack why he’s giving you the cold shoulder. You don’t ever have to be afraid to talk to him.”

  “How did you…?” I began.

  “Ally, he’s all over your thoughts. Stop obsessing and start talking to him.”

  Jeez. Everyone thinks they know what I should do. Okay, so Cassie is psychic and probably knows what she’s talking about, but still.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”

  –Buddha

  I couldn’t stop obsessing over whether or not I should talk to Jack about our relationship. Or our lack thereof. Whatever. But that’s what we teenage girls do: obsess over boys we like. We can’t help it; it’s hardwired into our DNA or something. So I tossed and turned for quite a while that night, thinking about how Tara and Cassie both thought I should confront him and find out what the deal was. I wasn’t so sure. I remembered how Jack had talked about the fact he was 18 and on probation and it didn’t look too good, even though we weren’t dating or anything. That last bit was the part that really got to me. Even though we weren’t dating or anything. Not “I wish we could, but this stupid age difference and my criminal histor
y is the only thing keeping me from kissing you passionately.” Nope. Not even close.

  I finally fell asleep around two. Yikes. I was going to look less than spectacular in the morning. Maybe Jack would take one look at me and think, “Whew, dodged a bullet there!” This was not one of my best moments. As a result of my sleepless night, I was less than pleasant to my friends the next day. I snapped at Tara on the way to school when she asked if I had considered talking to Jack about ‘you-know-what.’

  “Just leave it, Tara.”

  “Jeez. Kill the messenger, why don’t you?” She sounded a bit offended.

  “Sorry.” I immediately felt horrid. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. That’s what best friends are for. Now that I know, feel free to bitch away,” she said breezily.

  “No, that’s not fair to you. It’s just that Cassie told me I should talk to him too.” I had filled Tara in over the phone last night about my session with the psychic. Well, I certainly wasn’t busy texting or talking to Jack, who seemed to have forgotten my phone number. “I know I should talk to him, but I mean, what if it ruins what little we do have?” I whined.

  “What is it, exactly, that you think you have?”

  “Ouch. I thought I was the one allowed to be bitchy.”

  “Touché. But I’m serious. You’re barely more than acquaintances right now. It sounds to me like you have a whole lot more to gain than lose,” she said.

  “I know, I know,” I muttered. “I need time to think.”

  “Whatever,” she derided. “You’re going to ‘think’ yourself right out of a perfectly hot boyfriend.”

  Physics was plain brutal that morning. Sitting by him, working with him, yet barely communicating with him was awful. Every conversational volley I started fell flat when he answered with as few words as possible. I was distracted from my misery and gloom by Veronica and her current coterie cackling over something. She may be going through hell in her private life, but on the surface she was as obnoxious and loud as ever.