by Anna Rezes
“But—”
“Don’t worry, love. I’m already on my way.”
“What do you mean you’re already on your way? You don’t even know where I am.”
“Yes, I do. Just sit tight.”
“Patrick?”
“Bye, love.”
After disconnecting, I put the phone down. Ben is silent and I can’t tell where he is. I reach out with my mind, not to read his thoughts but to sense him. I feel him several paces away, so I stand to reach for him.
“What’s going on?” he asks pointedly, as he backs away. “Why does Patrick get to know more than I do?”
“It’s only to protect you,” I whisper.
“I don’t need protection, Emily! I need you!” He’s angry and he has every right to be.
“Ben, you have me.” I reach for him again. He doesn’t move away this time, but he doesn’t offer anything in return. “This is me. I tried to warn you.”
Silence ensues and I turn away closing my eyes. When I was a child I used to believe when I closed my eyes, I turned invisible. I’ve wished it to be true so many times, but right now all I want is to open my eyes and be seen. I don’t want to hide from him, but my life demands secrecy.
“Are you ever going to trust me, Em?”
I turn around to face him, opening my milky blind eyes. “This isn’t about trust, Ben. I’ve put you in danger because I’m stupid and selfish.” The words roll off my tongue and it feels good to tell him the truth. “Some people want to kill me because of who I am. They murdered my mom, and now they’re after me.”
The long silence after my admission is agonizing.
“Ben?”
“But I thought . . . How do you know? How do you know she was murdered?”
“I watched her die.”
“Em,” his voice changes into that sympathetic tone. It means he doesn’t believe me and worse, he’s feeling sorry for me.
“I’m not crazy!”
“I know you’re not crazy, but you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused, Ben. Things are different, but I can’t explain without compromising your safety. The only reason Patrick is involved is because he’s different too.”
“Come here.” He pulls me into him. “Em, I’m trying to understand, but—”
“But I sound crazy,” I say into his chest.
There’s a scratching sound coming from the wall of windows. Ben pulls away and I hear the sound of swooshing curtains.
“Umm . . . Em, your dog is here.”
“What?” I hear the door open and a second later Maggie nuzzles her head under my hand. “How?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
“She could feel it too,” Patrick’s voice rings from the direction of the door.
I look up even though I know I won’t see him, asking, “Did you bring her?”
“No, she beat me here. Now, that’s a well-trained dog.”
Ben wraps his arm protectively around my shoulder, oozing disapproval of Patrick. He’s worried about my sanity, but he still cares, and my devastated heart leaps with hope.
“Yuck, you two,” Patrick groans. “Watch out love, he’s a bit possessive. Now, come on, let’s fix this.”
“How?” I ask, unwilling to move away from Ben.
“If you would come over here, I can show you.”
I feel caught between the two of them. I might want Ben, but right now I need Patrick.
“I don’t even know what happened. Patrick, has this happened to you before?”
“No,” he laughs, “but it is so nice to be let in again.”
His cryptic message isn’t lost on me. My mind is left wide open for him because it’s too raw and disconcerted to confine. My memories are still sorting themselves out in my subconscious.
“Only you could do this, love. Only Valla blood is capable of such things.”
“Why did I lose my sight?”
“Side effect from the overload in your head, I suppose.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Not if he’s here,” Patrick says, and Ben tightens his grip on me.
“He stays,” I argue.
“No,” Patrick disagrees. “Not if you want my help. This will take all of our concentration, and he’ll be a distraction.”
I turn toward Ben, pleading, “I need him to fix this.”
“How is he going to fix you? Emily, you need a doctor, not an egotistical asshole.”
Patrick laughs. “To be fair, many doctors are egotistical assholes.”
“Ben, trust me,” I plead, placing a hand on his chest.
“I don’t trust him.”
“I know, but I do,” I say, stretching the truth. When Ben doesn’t make any move to leave, I say, “Ben?”
He breaks our hold and moves a few steps. His feet are soft on the carpet, but it sounds as if he’s moving closer to—
“I’m not leaving her alone with you,” Ben warns Patrick.
“Yes, you will. Otherwise, you’ll be the reason she won’t be able to see your pretty little face again.”
“God, Em, I can’t believe you trust him.”
Patrick speaks before I can, “Oh please, Benny Boy, Emily and I have a relationship you couldn’t begin to understand.”
The swift rustling of clothes, scuffing of shoes, and the growing levels of testosterone in the room are the first signs of what is sure to be a nasty fight.
“Enough!” I shout. “I think my current condition trumps the need to see who has the biggest balls! Ben, I know Patrick’s an asshole. It’s a hard fact to overlook, and if this were a less urgent situation, I wouldn’t ask you to leave us. Patrick, stop with the head games. Blind or not, you provoke him again, and I will ask him to hit you square in your pretty little face.”
It takes a moment before either of them moves.
“Emily,” Ben whispers, standing before me. He pulls my chin up and places a soft kiss on my lips. “How long will this take?”
Patrick answers, “I’ve never done this before so I can’t be sure, perhaps an hour, perhaps a day.”
“Just call me when you’re done or if you need anything. I won’t be far.” Ben places my phone in my palm and his bitterness emanates through the room as he walks out.
“Did you really need him to leave?” I question Patrick.
“Of course. He would get on my nerves hovering over you, marking his territory.”
As if wading into the shallow end of a pool, I feel Patrick’s soothing calm lapping at my skin, invoking his peaceful aura onto me.
“Come here.” He takes my hand and walks me back to the sofa. “Sit.”
I do as he says, and Maggie snuggles up next to me as I ask, “Why did this happen?”
“I don’t know for sure. What were you doing right before this came about?”
“I had a dream, a nightmare. I’ve been having them, but this was more. She took my memories. And um . . .” I think of his mom and I’m not sure if I should bring it up, except, I remember too late because my mind is wide open for him.
“Yes, you’ve met my mother,” he confirms in a casual tone that hides whatever he’s feeling.
“You knew? Why didn’t you tell me? Patrick, your mom was one of the only people my mom trusted. She saved my life!”
“Yes, well . . . while you’re still alive, let’s get your sight back.”
“I saw what they did to her,” I admit, trying to keep the image from my mind so he won’t have to relive it as I have. “I’m sorry. We’ll get them, Patrick. I swear.” I squeeze his hand.
“I take it you got your memories back, as well as seeing my mother’s last memory.”
“Yes, but how?”
“Only a Valla can get back a full memory once it’s been taken. Most Olvasho only get fragments—if anything at all—and only the very gifted can steal or alter memories.”
“Your mother was exceptional. Though, I don’t know why she took some of these memories. They have nothing to do with Valla blo
od.”
“Yes, but they could tie you to something more perilous. Like, for instance, neglecting who you are so you can spend time with your boyfriend.”
I ignore his blatant reprimand and start with another concern. “It hurt! When I got the memories back, it was excruciating.”
“Yes, I imagine it would be. You still shouldn’t have told Ben.”
“Like I had a choice. Look at me!” I defend and go on to admit, “I’m relieved Ben knows even if he doesn’t understand. It feels good to know he still accepts me.”
“He accepts you because he has no idea what it means. Though, I agree with Ben on one thing. You do look spooky.”
I glare at him through blind eyes. “You have no boundaries, do you?”
“I used to. They nearly got me killed. Now close your eyes.” His warm hands brush against my face, and I worry he’s going to kiss me, but his fingers close over my eyelids. “I felt you reaching out from miles away. I hope no Olvasho besides my uncle was close enough to feel it.” He moves his hands to my temples, and I feel even more vulnerable.
My panic rises. “Do you think . . . What if they find us?”
“I don’t sense anyone near. You are safe with me. Now try to relax. I need you to relax,” Patrick soothes. “If you’re tense, this is going to be more difficult than it needs to be.”
“How do you know this is going to work?”
“I don’t. Now stop talking. Take a deep breath.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“Shh,” he pacifies, “you won’t hurt me. Just breathe.”
I focus on my breathing and feel his peaceful aura merge with my thoughts. I wonder how he stays so calm all the time. I want to know his trick.
“Shh,” he hushes my not-so-inner thoughts as he moves closer. “I’m going to move my hand to the back of your head.” He shifts one hand to cover both eyes and the other wraps around the nape of my neck.
Healing warmth radiates through my body bringing relief to my skull. Before long I’m hot, too hot. My cheeks feel flushed and sweat trickles down my back. I feel like I’m standing inside an active volcano. It burns like being stung by a thousand bees at once while the venom pulsates through my veins. I endure the miserable sensations without complaint, feeling my mind meld back together.
After what feels like an eternity, Patrick drops his hands and falls away. The absence of his touch affects me like an arctic breeze coursing through my body, chilling even the marrow deep in my bones. When I open my eyes, my vision is perfectly restored, but I hate what I see. I’ve hurt him. Sweat glistens across his pale face while faint blue irises have taken the place of brilliant sapphire. His heavy-lidded eyes fall closed, and his shoulders slump as exhaustion pulls his body deeper into the sofa.
“Patrick?” I move to graze my fingers across his forehead. His skin is cool and damp.
He cracks open one eye. “Yes, love?”
“I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry.” Worry laces through my thoughts. “Are you gonna be okay?”
He gives a weak shrug. “Meh, these things happen. I enjoy dancing with you, love. It’s just exhausting.” He falls silent, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I start to move away, but he reaches for me.
“Don’t go,” he pleads. “Stay with me. Please.”
The sight of him raw like this, makes me ache for him. His desperation reminds me of six-year-old Patrick from his memory. I take his hand in mine and lean back into the sofa, our shoulders touching. “I’ll stay,” I whisper.
His body relaxes in the silence. Not only minutes have passed, but hours. I think about calling Ben, but I don’t want him to see us like this and I’m not ready to pull away.
Though my feelings for Patrick are different from what I feel for Ben, I have extremely strong feelings for both of them. Ben is my best friend. He feels like home. Patrick, on the other hand, feels like survival. I dislike him the majority of the time, but reality has shown me how much I need him. Although I probably shouldn’t, I feel safe with him.
I continue to hold his hand, watching him sleep, feeling grateful for his presence. I feel hopeful because maybe, just maybe, together we have a chance against those who hunt me. Feeling reassured, my body unwinds, and I allow myself to drift off to sleep.
twenty-seven
I’m woken slowly by the comforting stroke of fingers in my hair. Sunshine glares through the floor to ceiling windows along the back of Ben’s room. I look up expecting to find Patrick, but it’s Ben running his fingers through my hair.
“Ben?”
He looks down at me, his fingers stopping on my cheek. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning,” I smile, wishing every morning could start like this. “Did Patrick leave?”
“He’s outside with Maggie.”
I want to explain to Ben how my feelings for him were stolen from me years ago. Instead, I sit up, wrap my arms around him, and give him a kiss.
The ringtone I have set for Dad chimes from across the room. I break our kiss and hurry over to pick it up. The text is short and to the point. My blood runs cold. Hoping for a mistake, I dial his number. Upon hearing his voicemail, I hang up and dial again. It goes straight to voicemail the next four attempts.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Ben questions.
“He’s not answering.” How did I go so long without realizing I hadn’t heard from him? It was too long. I never got a call telling me he made it to Colorado. I flip back to the text he sent me. Ben steps closer and takes the phone from my hand to read the text.
Get to base. Ask for Chris. Bring Patrick.
“Em, what does this mean?”
My phone chimes again in a different tone and Ben opens the message. After a quick inhale, Ben looks at me with fear in his eyes. I try to grab for my phone, but he pulls it away.
“Give me my phone!” I demand.
Worried eyes burrow into mine. “Emily, what is going on?”
“Give it to me!” I shout frantically.
He relents and hands me the phone. I gasp at the image. There is no message from the unknown number, only a picture of Dad tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth, his face bloody and swollen.
Patrick walks through the door with Maggie. He reaches for my phone without asking, our mental link providing him a clue to what’s going on.
“We need to call the cops,” Ben insists.
“The police cannot help,” Patrick says to Ben, and looks to me. “We need to go.”
I nod. “Ben, I’m sorry.”I bend down to pick up my bag and brush a fresh tear from my eye. I take a deep breath before turning to say goodbye. I’m startled to find Ben so close.
“Em . . .” He reaches out and gathers me into him.
Despair inches its way into my heart as I see firsthand just how much danger I’ve potentially placed upon Ben. My dad willingly stepped into the position of my protector and the image of him on my phone will forever haunt me. I can’t let that happen to Ben. I love him too much.
“Ben, remember when I promised I’d say goodbye before I ran away?” I say with a sad smile. “I’m breaking up with you. What I’m doing to you isn’t fair. You saw my dad, Ben. That could just as easily be you, and this is not your fight.”
“It is my fight! You are my fight!”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. Please . . .”
He leans down and his lips find mine. His arms hold me tight while he kisses me as if his heart will break the moment he lets go. Everything fades to the background as love for this man consumes me.
“We need to go,” Patrick’s voice interrupts our moment. “My car is just outside.”
Remembering my fear, anger, and guilt, I tear myself away from Ben and head toward the door.
“Why does he get to go?” Ben asks.
Patrick cuts in, “Because I’m not dead weight. I’m the best chance she has.”
Ben steps forward. “What’s your deal, man?”
�
��It’s such a long list, but mostly, Emily is in danger, Mark is in danger, and we’re wasting our time because of you.”
Ben glances at me before turning to Patrick and acquainting his fist with Patrick’s jaw in a mean right hook. My shock registers a millisecond before pride, but both are back burners to anger. I get between the two of them and with a shaky voice, I say, “My dad might be dying right now, and this is what you’re doing!”
Patrick straightens, wiping blood from his lip. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow as if to say; it wasn’t me. Ben, on the other hand, looks guilty.
“Patrick, wait outside! Take Maggie. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Do you want me to wipe his memory first?” Patrick asks like it’s a reasonable question.
“Go!” I shout.
He shrugs, his complete lack of emotion is unsettling as he saunters out the door with Maggie.
I look to Ben. My anger and worry melt into sorrow over what I’m doing to him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I say looking the way of the door.
He steps forward, pleading, “Emily, what’s happening?”
“I told you, some people want me dead. Patrick is an ass, but he’s right about the cops. They can’t help. Neither can you. These people . . . they have abilities, like Patrick and me. It’s something we have to take care of, and you can’t tell anyone.”
Worry creases his brow. He doesn’t promise me anything, but I know Ben will keep my secret. With a conspiratorial half grin, I say, “That was a nice right hook, and it’s about time someone hit him, but how’s your hand.” I give it a slight squeeze and watch him wince.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, as I place his wounded hand inside of mine and apply gentle pressure. I’m not sure how this works, but if Patrick can do it then so can I. I close my eyes and say the word healin my mind, feeling the heat instantly. I feel the pain in his hand; however, it’s the heartache I find impossible to ignore.I did this to him.
“Emily, what are you doing?”
“Shh,” I calm. It’s hard to concentrate on his hand when I have his thoughts running through my head, along with his verbal questions. My hands feel like I’ve placed them directly on a hot stove, yet the intense heat is what keeps me focused. It takes maybe thirty-seconds for the whole incident, but once I open my eyes and release his hand, I feel as if I could fall from exhaustion. I remain upright as I watch Ben open and close his right fist. His gaze is one of confusion.