The Lost Savior

by Siobhan Davis

  “Come in,” I call out, lacing my sneakers.

  “I heard something interesting at the store today,” she says, perching on the edge of my bed.

  “Yeah?” I start limbering up, doing a few stretches as I watch her hang her head and knot and unknot her hands in her lap.

  “I believe some new family has moved in to the old Johnson place, and they have four adopted boys.”

  I stop stretching. “That’s where they’re living?” Situated on a remote twenty-acre site in Brunswick, the property has been idle for the last three years since the bank foreclosed and the Johnsons were forced to move out of state. Natasha Johnson was in my class when we were younger, and we were friendly for a while. I loved hanging at her place because they had a horse stables, an indoor swimming pool, and a basement movie theater.

  “I believe so.” She lifts her head up, and her smile is sad. Her eyes are a little swollen and bloodshot.

  “Mom, are you okay?” I kneel in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

  She cups my face. “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl. I’m just tired. I had difficulty sleeping last night.” Her chest inflates, and air whooshes out of her mouth. “I heard the boys are in senior class. Have you met them?”

  I snort out a laugh. “Eh, yeah. The whole school’s talking about them.”

  “Are they nice?”

  I bite back my laughter this time. Nice isn’t a word I’d choose to describe them, with the exception of Beckett.

  “I’ve talked to Beckett a couple times. He seems nice.”

  “That’s good, dear.” She squeezes my hand, and tears well in her eyes. “I should think you’d have a lot in common with them.”

  “Mom.” My voice is soft. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”

  She swipes her tears away before leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong. Honestly.” She pats my hand. “You don’t need to spend a second worrying about me.”

  “I know it’s your prerogative to worry about me, but you don’t have the monopoly on concern. You’re my mom, and if you’re upset, I want to help.”

  Her face glows with love. “No matter what happens from here on out, Victoria, I want you to know that you have been the greatest joy in our lives. We couldn’t have wished for a better daughter, and I hope we’ve told you enough how much we love you.”

  “You have, Mom, and I love you and Poppa too.” I almost choke on the wedge of emotion clogging my throat. I lean up, wrapping my arms around her. She rests her cheek atop my head, and we stay like that for several minutes, not speaking, just holding one another.

  As I take off running a little while later, I can’t help dwelling on her words or the feeling they’re prophetic. Because her words are telling for as much as what she hasn’t said.

  I know she’s upset over something to do with me.

  I know she’s concealing something from me.

  But what?

  Chapter 14

  I’m still mulling over Mom’s words and what they could mean later as I toss and turn in bed. Is it just my imagination, or are things getting weirder and weirder around here? I’m trying to switch my brain off, but it’s futile. I’m way too wired. My thoughts return to all the strange events of the last few days, but, for the first time, a new worry plagues me. I’ve been so focused on who that thing was, and absorbed in fears of how he changed me, that I’ve been ignoring the obvious.

  Even if he wasn’t human—and I’m convinced of that at this stage—he was still a living, breathing organism.

  And I killed him. It.

  With my bare hands.

  I hold my hands up in front of me, turning my palms over and over, looking for any signs of abnormality, but I can’t find any. However, I can’t pretend that I didn’t latch on to him, my fingers burning from within, and somehow turn him to dust.

  I did that.

  Me.

  I killed someone.

  And that acknowledgment keeps me awake until the early hours of the morning.

  The baby is being gently rocked in the woman’s arms, and her striking green eyes are damp with tears. The man hovers over the wide bed, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. The bed is dressed rather plainly in silver bed linen, and the sheets are wrinkled and stained. The room is vast, but the furnishings are minimal. A door opens on the far side of the room, and a man hurries inside, an air of urgency surrounding him. He’s wearing a black and gold uniform made of stiff, shiny fabric with a weapon strapped to his side.

  The man removes his hand from the woman, straightening as he casts an anxious glance at the open door. The corridor outside is obscured in darkness. “Have you identified them?” he asks the uniformed man.

  “Yes, esteemed leader. They will arrive imminently.”

  A lone wail echoes in the dark corridor outside, followed by a cacophony of piercing cries.

  The man curses. “Is the diversion in place?”

  “Yes, esteemed leader. As soon as I give the signal, it will activate.”

  “Do it now,” he commands, as four women rush into the room, embracing crying babies in their arms. The man in uniform dashes out of the room, pulling it closed behind him.

  The woman with the luminous green eyes gets out of bed, silently handing the baby to the man. Her nightgown slips down her body, pooling on the floor, and she stands naked in the room. The other women avert their eyes. Purple streaks stain her skin as she glides to a closet, removing a beautiful gold gown and pulling it on.

  “Set them down there,” the man instructs, pointing at a crude pentagon shape drawn in the center of the floor. He places the baby in his arms down on the top point of the pentagon, and one baby is placed at each of the other four points. The women retreat, lining up in a row alongside the far wall. They hang their heads, clasping their hands in front of them, murmuring the same words in unison.

  An elderly man with a shiny, bald head, dressed in an ornate flowing red gown, enters the room, locking the door behind him. He approaches the man, nodding once. The man clicks his fingers, and the lights extinguish, plunging the room into darkness. The elderly man places small circular glass jars at the head of each baby. Luminous blue light emanates from the jars, rising up and forming a circular blue ring over proceedings. The man and woman join hands as the man in the red gown starts an incantation. Foreign words filter through the air as the elderly gent walks in a circle around the babies on the floor, chanting a litany of words over and over.

  All the babies have stopped crying, and they are lying still on the floor, eyes riveted on the ceiling. One by one a burst of white light, so pure and so bright, erupts from their chests, shooting toward the ceiling and hovering in midair. You can almost hear the collective holding of breath in the room. The white light buzzes and hums while the man continues chanting. Slowly, the lines of light lean inward, straining toward one another until they merge at the tip and a burst of energy ripples around the room. The floor shakes, causing everyone to sway on their feet. The old man continues reciting the mantra, his voice becoming louder and stronger. The strips of light twist and tangle, coiling around each individual thread until there is no singular. There is only one.

  One bright, vibrant light connecting them all.

  The elderly man snaps out a command, and the light barrels into the baby at the top of the pentagon. Its tiny body floats up off the ground as awestruck gasps ring out around the room. A glowing aura surrounds the baby as its tiny body hovers in midair. The baby looks peaceful and calm, floating gently above the ground. The man and woman hug each other with tears coursing down their cheeks.

  A loud rattling at the door is accompanied by shouts in a foreign tongue.

  The women are instantly on high alert, snatching the babies up and racing toward a hidden door that has just been revealed on the opposite side of the room. The babies cry out, little fingers angled toward one another, stretching and straining as the threads o
f light had seconds previously.

  The compound rumbles and shakes as they exit through the door, descending downward, deeper and deeper into the belly of the building. When they reach the last step, they separate. The man issues urgent instructions to the older gentleman and the four women, and they take off in one direction while the man joins the woman in the gold gown, and they run in the other direction.

  Cries of all five babies ring out in the silent dark corridors as they race for their lives.

  The rumbling and shaking intensifies, and dust and debris drips from the ceilings, raining down on their heads.

  The woman holds the baby close to her chest while following the man down successive passageways. The baby whimpers, that bright light dimming the farther they move from the others. The woman smooths a reassuring hand over the baby’s head, whispering soothing words.

  But the baby is disconsolate.

  It’s as if she’s been separated from the other four parts of her soul.

  I bolt upright in the bed, absolutely drenched in sweat. My hair is plastered to my forehead, and my heart is frantically beating in my chest. Acute pain rips through me, and an errant sob filters through the still nighttime air. A subtle distortion in the corner of the room claims my attention, and my heart stalls in my chest. A black, shadowy form watches me silently. With my heart in my mouth, I flip the covers off and switch on my bedside lamp. Summoning courage, I jump up, ready to face my assailant, and I come face to face with an empty room. I blink a few times, rubbing my eyes as I race to the window, yanking the drapes apart. I scan the outside of our house, looking as far as I can in all directions, but there’s no one there.

  Planting a hand over my heart, I slump to the ground, pulling my knees in to my chest and wrapping my arms around myself.

  I draw exaggerated breaths, in and out, in an attempt to recalibrate my pounding heart, and sort through the jumbled mess in my head.

  Now I’m hallucinating. Awesome. I’ll add it to the expanding list of fucked-up shit.

  Not for the first time, I wish I hadn’t gone dress shopping last Saturday.

  If I’d only stayed home, then none of this would’ve happened.

  I’m like a zombie the next day in school after barely managing to snatch more than a couple hours sleep last night. Jensen has been sending furtive worried looks my way when he thinks I’m not noticing, and I hate that I have him on edge too.

  Lunchtime in the cafeteria is the same torture as every day this week. The four Roth brothers sit at their table at the back trying not to look like they’re staring at me while I sit on my hands, ignoring the despondent tug in my chest, and keeping my gaze secured to the tabletop to avoid glancing at them. Everyone else’s heads whip back and forth like ping-pong balls, waiting with bated breath for something to kick off. Tension is ripe in the air. Jensen is stressed out, his body language betraying everything he isn’t saying, and I hate that there’s an off vibe between us, so when he suggests catching a movie after school, I rush to say yes. Alone time with my boy is exactly what the doctor ordered.

  The usual hyperactive thrumming in my limbs is especially virulent today, and my stomach is tied into knots. I really don’t know how much more of this I can take. And I’m beginning to think I’m going about this all wrong. I really need to speak to Kylie, to run my current idea by her. I vow to pull her aside for a private chat before the day is out.

  My first proper encounter with a Roth brother happens at the end of the day. Dane is in my algebra class, which is my second-to-last class. Thankfully, he doesn’t sit beside me, choosing a seat under the window, but he makes no attempt to disguise the fact he’s staring at me. What is with these guys? Have they no sense of shame? And do they not care that they’re fodder for gossip?

  They seem to have purposely put up a wall in front of other students, refusing to engage with anyone, only adding to the air of mystery surrounding them. Everyone is dying to know the score with them, but they don’t give anyone the time of day.

  Except me.

  Dane pays zero attention to the teacher, but when he’s called on for an answer, he gets it right first time. I keep my eyes pinned to the board and work hard to focus on what Mr. Smith is saying, but I sense Dane’s eyes drilling into the side of my head, and it’s annoyingly distracting.

  I crick my head from side to side as I hurry out of the room, rotating my shoulders to loosen my tense muscles. English is my last class of the day, and it couldn’t come soon enough. The classroom is over on the other side of the school, and because I get lost in thought on the walk there, I’m late by the time I reach my destination. All seats are occupied except for a vacant seat in front of Beckett’s blond-haired brother.

  Oh, yay.

  He raises his hand, wiggling his fingers at me, grinning as if we’re besties. I stand rooted to the spot, with my mouth hanging open, like an idiot. Out of all the Roth brothers, this one scares me the most—he’s fearless and flirty, and he has this determined air about him that sends shivers up my spine.

  “I saved you a seat, beautiful. No need to be shy,” he hollers across the room, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. That buzzing coil of energy inside me is currently doing cartwheels, stretching toward blondie with obvious delight. I don’t know how I’m expected to survive this class without losing it.

  “Take a seat Ms. King,” the teacher says. “You’re holding up the entire class.”

  I walk in slow-mo toward the empty desk, picking up nasty looks from some of the girls, as if I orchestrated this myself. Hunter eyeballs me suspiciously when I pass by his desk, and that just pisses me off. I have done nothing to ask for their attention, and it’s not my fault my body and my brain malfunctions every time I’m in proximity.

  Blondie pulls out my chair. “Your highness,” he says with a wink.

  “Quit it!” I hiss under my breath, sending him a warning look. Thirty pairs of eyes land on my back as I slide into my seat, quickly extracting my books and trying to focus on the lesson.

  I sense movement behind me, and my spine goes rigidly still. His breath is warm as it blows across my ear and cheek. “You can thank me later.”

  “Or never,” I retort in a quiet tone.

  He chuckles. “We’re going to be great friends. I can already tell.”

  “Yeah,” I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “That’s so not happening.”

  “It already feels as if I’ve known you my entire life,” he exclaims, tugging on the ends of my hair.

  The teacher has his back to us, scribbling something on the whiteboard, so I risk turning around. “I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t feel like I’ve known you my entire life. To be honest, you’re freaking me out, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just stop. You and your brothers are causing me a world of trouble, and I’d really prefer if you all just left me alone.”

  I think of Beck’s shy smile and watch the cocky grin slip off blondie’s lips, and I feel like a prize bitch, but I need them to stop fixating on me. With everything that’s happened this last week, I need to keep a low profile, not capture the attention of half the school.

  He scrubs a hand over his smooth jaw. “I’m sorry you feel like that, but the truth is, we’re here to make life easier for you,” he adds in a whisper.

  “What does that even mean?” I whisper back.

  “I—”

  “Mr. Roth and Ms. King,” the teacher calls out, demanding our attention. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

  I lift my head and immediately catch Hunter’s eye. He stares at me with a penetrating expression, and I read everything in that one look. He’s wondering if there’s truth to the rumors going around school and working out how to break the news to Jensen.

  “Nah,” blondie says in a casual tone. “It was a private conversation.” His lips curve up at the corners. “Not for sharing.”

  I groan. “I’m sorry, sir,” I cut i
n, needing to defuse this before I get detention and miss out on my date. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not, Tori. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how important this year is. Now is not the time to lose your focus.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Stop sidetracking one of my best students, Cooper, and we’ll get along just fine,” he tells blondie. “But if you can’t keep your mouth closed, you’ll find yourself with a detention slip.”

  “Understood, Teach. Hear ya loud and clear. Zipping my lips.”

  A few titters ring out around the room, and I spot several girls zeroing in on said lips with a longing look.

  I try my best to concentrate for the rest of the class, but it’s almost impossible. The connection between us is strong, and it vibrates and pulses leaving me feeling antsy and on edge. I’m extremely aware of every sigh, every movement, and every look from behind me, and it’s majorly distracting.

  When the bell rings, I slump forward in my seat, drawing prolonged breaths in an effort to get a grip before I rendezvous with Jensen.

  A shadow darkens my desk, and I look up. Hunter’s face is like thunder as he folds his arms and glares over my head. I look around. Cooper has his butt propped against the desk, and he’s smirking at Hunter in amusement. “What?” he asks a second later. “You got a problem with me, or do you usually look like someone shoved a stick up your ass?”

  Hunter snorts. “Oh, I’ve got a problem with you all right.” He points at me. “Tori’s off limits to you, you hear me?”

  I stand up, shoving my books in my bag. “Hunter, just drop it.”

  “Why? And who he is to you?”

  “No one!”

  “Ouch! Way to crush a guy’s ego,” Cooper says.

  I grit my teeth. “You’re not helping.” I beseech him with my eyes to shut the hell up.

  “I’m not buying it, Tori. They show up here, staring at you all the time, and you look like you want to pole vault into their laps.”

  An angry red flush creeps up my neck. “I do not!”