Just after lunch, Mr. Mueller stopped by Quinn’s office to check in on him. He apologized to Quinn for not offering driving him home from dinner on Friday night. Quinn told him that it was no big deal. Nevertheless, Mr. Mueller must have felt pretty guilty because he insisted Quinn take the rest of day off. Quinn tried to explain that he felt fine, but to no avail. So he packed up his laptop and left work at one thirty in the afternoon.
It was a beautiful day, and Quinn walked the mile back to his place. When he arrived at his building, he bypassed his mailbox and walked straight upstairs to his loft. Once inside, Quinn tossed his stuff onto the kitchen counter and took off his suit jacket, draping it over one of the wingback chairs in the living room area. He walked into his bedroom and a few minutes later emerged wearing only an IU T-shirt and black boxers.
Quinn got a Coke from the refrigerator and then rifled through his wallet and pulled out a business card. He dialed the number on the card and asked for Dr. Jenson. When Dr. Jenson wasn’t available to take his call, Quinn asked the nurse if she knew when he could expect his injuries to heal. Even standing across the room, I could hear the nurse’s reply over the phone.
“Your head should heal in about seven to ten days, but your ribs will take a little while longer. All in all, you should feel as good as new in two to three weeks,” the nurse stated. “The doctor wrote in your chart that you should take it easy for at least another week or so,” she reported. “I see here Dr. Jenson gave you a script for the pain—do you need a refill, honey?”
“Uh, no thanks. I haven’t used up the first prescription yet.” Quinn ended the call, opened the refrigerator again, and stared blankly at the scarce number of contents within until he settled on a day-old container of Thai food. He grabbed the pair of disposable chopsticks on the counter next to him, but just used them to poke at the food, looking at it as if it was the least appetizing thing in the world. Finally, he gave up and set the container down on the counter.
I followed Quinn into his bedroom, where he took off his T-shirt and examined the left side of his torso in the full-length mirror. As if still unconvinced that his injuries were gone, he pressed his fingers into where the bruises used to be, but he clearly felt no pain. He peeled off the gauze pad over his forehead and inspected the status of his head wound again. Then he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light to get a better look. He grabbed either side of the sink, leaned into the mirror, and stared at himself for a few minutes. I knew he was struggling to figure out how his injuries had healed so fast. Thankfully, he had no idea how to answer this riddle.
I began to regret my hasty decision to heal Quinn. Maybe I should have let nature take its course. At the very least, I should have healed him more slowly, a little bit day-by-day, so the changes would have gone unnoticed. Regardless, I was still confident that Quinn’s mind eventually would help him trivialize, rationalize, or in some other manner explain away his miraculous recovery. As I’d recently learned, it was the most common way humans dealt with issues that could only be described as mystical, spiritual, or supernatural.
Quinn walked over to the stereo in his living room and turned it on. He grabbed a bottle of water out of his fridge and a bag of chips from the pantry before sprawling out onto the living room couch. He closed his eyes and listened to the music. I didn’t recognize the song, but that didn’t surprise me considering my state of amnesia. Hours passed, and he just listened to music with his eyes closed and his hands behind his head. Every time I suspected he had fallen asleep, he would take a swig of water from the bottle he was holding between his knees. He had been laying there the whole time thinking, and it wasn’t too hard to guess what he was thinking about.
Out of nowhere, Quinn opened his eyes, stood up and began pacing back and forth slowly, gesturing with his hands as if he was talking to himself. Then he walked down the hall and into his bedroom. He lifted the shades just as the sun was about to set. He paused momentarily to appreciate the faint orange hues that were spreading across the sky before he fell backwards onto his bed and looked up at the ceiling, still lost in thought.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, shades of pink, red, and orange flooded the sky. Still invisible, I positioned myself in front of the window to soak up the warmth of the sun before it said good night. At the peak of the sunset, Quinn also seemed to take notice of nature’s amazing display. He looked right at me—well, right through me—at the fiery sky.
Even though Quinn and I were as far apart as two souls could be, it felt like we were in his room together. It was as if we were both in sync with each other as we silently watched the sun disappear behind the buildings. I knew I couldn’t let him see me. Yet, for one minute—for one brief moment—I let my guard down just enough to allow myself to feel closer to him.
“Evie?” he asked nervously, looking at the window.
Could Quinn see me? I asked myself. How could he? I was invisible. I was stunned. Every defense mechanism I had learned during my Shepherd training kicked in reflexively. I immediately teleported myself from his bedroom into his living area. I didn’t dare breathe as I waited to see if Quinn would follow me.
“Evie? Is … is that you?” I heard him call out hesitantly from his bedroom.
Crap! Crap! Crap! my mind was shouting. This was not good. Of course, I didn’t dare answer him. But, I didn’t know what to do other than to remain invisible and be ready at a moment’s notice to “get out of Dodge in a hurry,” as Teddy had so eloquently put it.
“This is crazy,” Quinn said to himself from his bedroom. “I must really be losing it fast.” I heard him get up from his bed. He walked down the hallway and into the living area, stopping near the breakfast bar. I moved across the room towards the windows to put as much distance between us as I could. “I’m sure I look like a total whack-job.” He chuckled. “Quinn, dude, you’re lucky you don’t have a roommate listening to you right now.”
Little did he know, he did have a roommate—an uninvited one … me.
Quinn still looked troubled. He started to trace the stone veins that ran through the marble countertop with his fingers before sighing heavily and looking up at the ceiling.
“Evie … if it’s even possible that you’re here somehow … that you were there the other night … I just wanted to say thanks for helping out. I probably should have listened to you. And I’ll admit it wasn’t one of my most brilliant ideas to chase after that guy.” He smirked. “And, well, if you had something to do with this—” Quinn felt his side, “then thanks for that, too, I guess.”
He looked almost relieved to have given a voice to this outrageous notion that he had been entertaining in his head. As though verbally acknowledging my existence and my aid was cathartic in some way. As though saying it out loud would exorcise this nonsense from his mind. Maybe this was exactly what Quinn needed to do to let go of what happened … to let go of me. I could only hope.
Even so, Quinn was smarter than I had given him credit for. Instead of repressing the trauma he had experienced, instead of coming up with some superficial, Band-Aid excuse to write off what had happened, his mind was making leaps—correct ones—to fill in the inexplicable voids for which no logical explanation made sense. He was connecting his vision of me not only with the botched mugging but his accelerated healing as well. And he was struggling to find some resolution to the questions that kept running through his head.
I was beginning to worry that his mind wouldn’t let go of this phenomenon, or whatever he believed it to be, without getting some answers … some certainty. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a way to give Quinn the answers he sought without revealing too much about myself—without breaking the Rules.
“Evie … Wow. I haven’t thought about you for a while,” Quinn said wistfully. “It would be awesome to be able to see you again.” He walked towards the windows in the living area, right beside me. It was like he was looking right at me. I was so taken aback by his words and so mesmerized by his eyes that
I couldn’t move.
“I remember the first time I saw you in class,” Quinn continued, “the first time I got up the nerve to talk to you. Your long hair was bunched up under that funny little hat. I can still see your green eyes from behind your glasses … And then there was that night at the party, when we …” his voice trailed off and a tiny smile hit the corners of his mouth.
When we what? I wanted to scream. What happened that night at the party? What did we do? I desperately wanted to know—I desperately wanted to remember. I could barely contain the curiosity and anticipation welling up inside of me. I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust. For a split second, I stopped to ponder whether I actually could combust into a million little pieces, before concluding the odds of that happening were infinitely small.
“Then … you got into that car accident and just like that … you were gone,” Quinn continued, shaking his head. “I had a bad feeling about that road trip. I should’ve found a way to stop you from going. I should’ve found a way to make you stay in Bloomington.” He glanced down at the floor and then he looked straight into my eyes—eyes that he couldn’t possibly see. But I could see into his. I could see he was upset. I could tell he was hurting.
“One minute you were standing in front of me and the next minute … I couldn’t believe it. Part of me still can’t believe you’re gone.”
I’m not gone! I wanted to shout. I’m standing right in front of you!
“I’ve really missed you these past months … I still do.” He turned around, walked over to the couch, and collapsed down on it. “Hearing the words come out of my mouth right now, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, I didn’t know you that well or even for that long, but there was something about you that was different. You made me feel different.
“And then out of nowhere, it was like you were there … standing over me the other night. I swear it was you. It had to be,” Quinn muttered. “And … I wake up and discover my ribs are healed … and my head. I just don’t get it.” The tortured look on his face was almost more than I could bear. My actions over the past few days had caused him to dredge up memories that were better off buried in his past.
An overwhelming urge to reveal myself to Quinn came over me. I had to leave. I had to get out of there before my guilt caused me to do something I would no doubt regret later. I teleported myself to the rooftop deck of his building. When I saw that no one was around, I materialized into my human form, stretched my limbs, and walked over to the railing. My chest began to ache, and I realized it was Quinn’s heart I was feeling.
I stayed up on the rooftop deck for a while staring at the expansive Chicago skyline just as the moon was beginning to settle into the evening sky. I needed time to sort through what Quinn had unknowingly revealed to me. This added a whole new layer of “complicated” to my assignment. Anger stirred inside of me. To assign me to Quinn’s case was grossly unfair—no, it was downright cruel—to both of us. Quinn not only knew me when I was alive, he’d actually had feelings for me. More to the point, it appeared as though he still had feelings for me.
And to top it off, he had information about my life. In the span of a few minutes, I’d discovered Quinn and I were in a class together, presumably at Indiana University. I knew we had at least one memorable evening together. I knew I took a road trip somewhere, which resulted in the car accident that claimed my life. I’d also learned Quinn didn’t want me to go on that trip. And I’d found out that Quinn missed me.
The Rules forbade me from seeking out information about my past, but what if the information was volunteered freely? What if I learned about my past accidentally? Quinn had let the cat out of the bag. Now I wanted to know more—about who I was, where I was from, and what I was like.
It was a risky enough proposition to even dare to consider fulfilling this desire of mine, much less pursue it. I couldn’t make this decision lightly. Once I opened this door, there was no going back. I’d have to play my cards exactly right; I couldn’t afford one misstep. Moreover, I couldn’t let a soul know what I was doing—not even Peter.
Was I really considering this? Could I really use Quinn to find out about my former life? How would I even go about doing it? How could I get him to volunteer more information about me? I still couldn’t let him see me. What was I going to do? Drop constant reminders of myself around him? No way. I wouldn’t feel right toying with Quinn’s emotions like that just to get him to talk about me.
Besides, I had to look at the other side of things. Just how important was it for me to know about my life? And what was the cost of finding out about my past? Peter told me focusing on such distractions could be dangerous, even fatal, for my charge. What’s more, Quinn had said he didn’t even know me all that well or for that long. Was I really that callous that I could risk his life for a few details about my own—about a life that was no longer mine?
I may not have had the answers to all of my questions, but I certainly had the answer to the last one: No. I wasn’t so cold and insensitive that I would risk the well-being of another for my own selfish gains. My entire reason for being was to keep Quinn safe from harm. I was given a second chance so I could protect him. And that was exactly what I was going to do.
18. I’ve Been Made
When I returned to Quinn’s loft, he was eating pizza and checking his email. The rest of the evening was uneventful. He didn’t speak another word either to or about me. But he still looked uneasy, like he was mentally wrestling with something. I knew that “something” had to do with me.
He went to bed and tossed and turned until he fell asleep. I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I felt compelled to heal his head wound again—not enough for him to notice, but a sufficient amount to help it heal faster. I supposed it was because every time I looked at his face, I was reminded of my own shortcomings as his Shepherd. Plus, I also felt guilty about messing with his mind—with his life. Quinn shouldn’t have seen me the other night; I realized what a big mistake it had been on my part. Now I just wanted to help him through this rough time, and healing him was the only way I knew how. The sooner he healed, the sooner he could put the entire chain of events behind him, and the quicker he could move on with his life.
Whatever my reasons for wanting to heal Quinn again, I promised myself this would be the last time I worked my magic on his injury. I would let nature do the rest.
Quinn was restless, even in his sleep. Knowing I had to be particularly careful tonight, I slowly removed the gauze bandage from his head and began the healing process. I stopped when the left side of his forehead cooled down to a few degrees above his normal body temperature. I stepped back to survey my work.
That’s it, I proudly said to myself. He would never suspect I’d helped out again. I gently replaced the bandage and immediately backed away from him. I didn’t trust myself to be within arm’s reach of his body for very long and resist the temptation of running my fingers over his bare skin.
I turned around and walked out of his bedroom, pausing in his doorway as I imagined what memories he had of me … of us. I shook my head in an effort to empty it of images of him and I together. This assignment was really turning out to be a huge mess—one that I feared would only get worse. How could the Council have made such a colossal blunder by assigning me to him? Where were the warning signs? The red flags?
I wondered if Peter had any new information that could help unravel the mysteries plaguing my assignment.
Ugh … Peter. I knew I should fess up and tell him everything that had happened today, but he was the last soul I wanted to run into right now. I could just hear him run through his “I-told-you-so’s:” “Eve, I told you the only way you’ll be able to do your job is if you maintain a safe distance from Quinn,” or “Eve, need I remind you that your only job is to save Quinn’s life—not to get wrapped up in his personal issues?” or—
“Evie?”
No, that wasn’t right, Peter didn’t call me Evie. The only person I knew who called m
e that was—
I immediately looked down at myself. Crap! I was still visible. Dread filled me instantly. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts, I had forgotten to phase out of sight and was still standing in Quinn’s bedroom doorway. It was a rookie mistake—actually, it was more like a Freudian slip, and a big one at that. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“Evie? … Is that you?” Quinn asked in a groggy voice.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t have to turn around to confirm what I already knew to be true—Quinn was awake, and he saw me plain as day. My cover was blown. I’ve been made.
I couldn’t help but turn around anyway. Just as I suspected, Quinn was sitting up in his bed, struggling to see me clearly, his eyes still out of focus from just waking up.
“Are … are you really here?” he asked in disbelief.
I just stood there speechless. If I phased out now, would he think it was all just a dream in the morning? How could I get myself out of this mess? Did I really even want to get out of it? Maybe this was for the best. My mind was running through possible scenarios—both good and bad. I couldn’t figure it all out right now. But I knew the longer I stood there, the more convinced Quinn would be that his “vision” was real.
At a loss for what to do, I quickly spun around and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. I would dematerialize once I was out Quinn’s line of sight. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to execute my escape plan. He leaped out of bed and ran after me as soon as I rounded the corner.
“Wait! Evie! Please don’t go!”
I froze in place, my back still towards him.
“Please,” he begged, “just stay for a few minutes.”
“I … I can’t,” I replied, unable to move.
“Why?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Fine. Go ahead. Leave … I guess some things never change.” His words stung. He sounded so bitter and upset.
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