Windy (Manipulators Series Book 1)

by A. Kennedy

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Smith

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2013

  ISBN-13: 978-1490927817 (CreateSpace-Assigned)

  ISBN-10: 1490927816

  Akennedy4313@gmail.com

  www.amandasblogging.wordpress.com

  To my children,

  who believe in all that I do.

  Prologue

  Thunder shook while lightning illuminated every dark corner in the small, two-bedroom house nestled in North Georgia. With the last flash, I opened my eyes. I listened to the rain beat against the windows. I knew trying to go back to sleep would be futile. Deep in my gut though, I knew the storm wasn’t keeping me awake.

  I looked over at my wife, who slept quietly. She looked like an angel with her brown hair covering the pillow she laid on. My hand went to her stomach, and I waited with hope that the basketball bump would kick or roll. Nothing. She only had two more weeks before her due date, and the doctor told her to be ready because she could go at any time. Stubborn as she was, she hadn’t seemed interested in packing her hospital bag until after she left the doctor's office that day. I had been trying to get her to pack for three weeks. Would she do it for me? Of course not.

  With the storm moving away and the lightning less frequent, I started to doze off. A piercing scream cut through the air. My eyes popped open, and I immediately knew the time had come. I jumped out of bed, grabbed Suzie’s hospital bag, and ran to the car. I opened the trunk and shoved the over-sized luggage in … then I stopped. In order to have the baby, I needed my wife to be at the hospital, too. I ran back to grab Suzie as she squealed at me, “Did you forget something, darling?”

  “Sorry honey, just a little nervous is all.” I tried controlling my hands. They were shaking and causing tremors to pass through my entire body.

  She laughed—she actually laughed. A kind-hearted laugh, even though I could see the pain on her face from the contractions.

  “Come on Suzie, we have to go. This baby isn’t going to wait on us.” The previous week there was an article in the newspaper about a baby delivered on the side of the road. I didn't want us to be another front-page story for the community to see. Too many things could go wrong while delivering. My palms began to sweat, and my heart started to beat a little faster. What would happen if we didn't make it to the hospital on time? Would I be able to help deliver?

  “I’m her mom, and she will stay until I say so.”

  Shocked by Suzie’s statement, I felt the sweat begin to build up on my brow. My worry might become a reality if we didn't head for the car. I was relieved when she finally grabbed the yellow polka dot diaper bag she packed for our little one. We didn’t find out the gender of the baby, but everything Suzie bought, besides the diaper bag, had pink on it. If the baby was a boy, he would be wearing a pink dress for pictures, another pink dress for coming home, and a couple of pink onesies for the just-in-case moments.

  Heading out the door, the hair on my arms stood up as chills ran down my back. The air was charged, but not from the lightning. The smell that drifted toward me was different, yet familiar. It didn't smell like the storm. The smell was sweet and reminded me of honeysuckles. A Manipulator was using his or her power, but I wasn't moving the wind. I had no reason to use my powers. The only other two people who could manipulate the wind were over 300 miles away. A thought occurred to me, and I shook my head in disbelief. Then a smile began to dance on my face when I realized who was creating the phenomenon. My child wasn’t even out of the womb yet and here she, or he if Suzie was wrong, was manipulating the wind.

  Later that day, when all was calm and Suzie was resting from the labor and delivery, I sat in a glider and rocked our newborn baby girl. I was amazed at how tiny she seemed swaddled in a white, blue, and pink blanket. So tiny, but she affected my heart in such a huge way. I couldn’t imagine what I did so great in my life to deserve such a wonderful little angel.

  “You know, you are going to do great things. You’re going to go somewhere, and you will touch people’s hearts. You will be a warrior and protector of those you love, and of those you barely know. You know how I know this baby girl? Because you’re my daughter, and that is what we do. Now we need to come up with the perfect name for you.”

  That’s when I heard Suzie whisper, “Wendy, but with an ‘i’ instead of an 'e'.”

  Chapter 1

  “That’s good, Windy. Now try it without moving your hands.”

  Frustrated, I dropped my hands to my side. “But Daddy, I just wanna go play at the beach. Why do we have to keep doing this? We do it all the time,” I replied scornfully.

  And, as usual, my dad’s reply was, “You will find out in time, my dear.”

  I looked toward the beach, yearning to be part of a family who actually took a vacation instead of a trip for meetings and working on our skills. The wind picked up and engulfed me. My dad was putting me in the middle of a funnel that blasted wind at me from all directions. He wasn’t going to stop until I did something to retaliate. My hair whipped around my face, blocking my view of him. He always did this – almost using his full powers and waiting for me to scream in pain or push the rushing air away from me. I never screamed. Letting the air escape my lungs allowed for the wind to enter and suck the breath from me. I've been told the technique was like having the breath knocked out of you. The only difference is you end up suffocating before you can recover your breath. My dad never expected me to scream. However, he expected me to push the air away. I never did. I considered it a way of rebelling.

  “Windy!” I heard him screaming over the blasting wind. “Don’t make me use all my force.”

  I knew his threat held no weight. He always said that. Moments later the wind died down. He was tired and flustered with me once again.

  “Windy,” he said waiting for me to reply.

  “Windy,” A male voice said.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I replied sleepily.

  “Ms. Gale, will you wake up? That is the fourth time this month you have fallen asleep in my class,” barked my Psychology instructor, Professor Spence. He wobbled his stubby self over to my desk. I lifted my head up from my crossed arms and waited for his criticism. He was great at criticizing and even better at avoiding praises for his students. He didn't say a word. He just looked disapprovingly at me over the rim of his glasses.

  I wanted to yell at him and tell him how he needed to be nicer to other people and think about others’ feelings. I wanted to tell him he needed to understand that sometimes people go through hard times and end up falling asleep in class. I wanted to tell him that he needed to lay off. I have an A in the class, so why should he be upset that I fell asleep? Instead, I bit my tongue and apologized for my actions. “I’m sorry, professor. I just haven’t been sleeping well. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “It better not,” he grunted. His round face studied me, deciding whether to say something further. He did. “I’m going to start marking you absent, seeing that you can’t mentally be in class.”

  I broke eye contact and looked down at my notebook. I didn’t get all the notes from today’s lecture. I knew that could be a detriment to my grade because the final was next week. “Yes sir,” I grumbled.

  Professor Spence continued to stand by my desk. I looked up into his round, brown eyes. “Come by my office before you leave today.”

  I could feel the heat of anger rise to my face. I pinche
d my lips together and nodded.

  As I left the classroom, I didn’t think about the upcoming final. Truthfully, I really didn’t care about the test. I thought about my dad. My heart twisted in pain. He had been gone from my life for over thirteen years. In the years that passed, I didn't have many dreams of him, but I saw his broad face as if he was standing in front of me. His brown eyes always seemed to smile, even when he wasn’t smiling.

  My dad and I were unique. We could control the molecules in the air to create wind. I always had to use my hands to guide the small bits. My dad, on the other hand, was able to conjure up small tornadoes without twitching an eyebrow. He always told me that I needed to know these skills but never elaborated as to why. To me, my skills seemed useless. No one was to know about my powers, and they weren't supposed to know that anyone else had powers. That was my main reason to never use them. Besides my dad, two other people knew about the powers that coursed through my veins, my mom and a previous friend who I hadn’t seen or talked to since his family up and moved from North to South Georgia.

  “Ouch! Hey, watch where you’re goin’.” Someone ran into me, causing my books to fall to the floor. I bent down to retrieve them. The culprit started to laugh at me as he bent down to help. The laugh was familiar. I looked up. I could feel the color start to burn on my cheeks as we stood. “Oh hey, Zac.”

  “Wow, just a ‘hey, Zac?’ No hug, kiss, miss you?” He smiled his usual charming smile, one that always seemed to melt my heart. “Thanks. And to think I was going to see if you were free for dinner tonight.” His icy blue eyes held mine. “Or should I tell you again why I fell for you?” He moved his soft black hair out of the way to keep it from falling in front of his eyes. He told me he fell for me because of my eyes—they were green with a small yellowish-orange patch in my right eye. They were nothing special, but he always said, “they were captivating.”

  His arms wrapped around me. I tried to hug him back, but my books made it almost impossible to make the hug even the slightest bit intimate.

  “You didn't call me back last night,” he said, leaning away. He brushed runaway strands of my long brown hair away from my face.

  I looked up into his eyes. At five-foot-three, I only came up to his chin. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

  “You said that the night before, Windy.” His words had an edge to them, and he seemed frustrated.

  “I know, but it’s my mom. You know she’s not doing so well, and after work last night, I went to check on her.” My mom's health had been slowly declining. Lately, she needed help around the house or running to the grocery store. Help usually meant I would do it alone, but I didn’t mind. Being the only child and the only family, I was the only one she had for help.

  He stole a kiss, taking me by surprise. “It’s okay as long as you’re all mine tonight. I’ll let it slide this time.”

  “I’m all yours tonight, I promise.” I stood on my toes to reach his lips to steal my kiss back and took off for my next class.

  The rest of the day seemed to go by in a haze. During my last two classes, I continued to think about my haunting dreams and why I continued to have them. They began after Zac and I got in our first big fight.

  I had a day off, away from mom, the restaurant, and all responsibilities. I decided to give Zac a call so we could grab dinner or go see a movie. Of course, the one time I was available to do something, he didn’t answer his phone. I decided I would go to his house and surprise him.

  Zac had given me his house key a while ago, but I never had the need to use it. Being a romantic, I decided I would go light some candles and wait for him in his room. While turning the house upside down looking for candles and a lighter, I ran across a huge map of the United States in Zac’s office. The map sat on his desk leaning against the wall with green, red, and yellow dots all over it. It was a puzzle that stumped me. More so, it looked like a map that detectives would use to try to find a pattern that a killer or thief might have so they could figure out where to strike next. Yet on Zac’s map, there was no pattern, nor was there any particular placement of the markers that I could figure out. If they were places he wanted to go or places where he had family, I could understand, but he never mentioned having family or wanting to go visit Alaska, and there was a green dot there. Two other markers caught my attention. One was in Dawsonville, about 45 minutes north of where we lived, and the other was Tybee Island, just off the coast of Georgia.

  I jumped as I heard the front door slam. Before I had time to move away from the baffling map, Zac came into the room. “Just what the hell are you doing?” I turned to look at him. He waved a hand toward the map. “That is my personal business, not yours.” My chin dropped a bit at the tone of his voice. “And why the hell are you here, at my house and without asking me first?”

  His words stabbed me and stole my voice. “I was just looking to spend some time with you,” I finally managed to say in a low whisper.

  “I don't care what you came to do.” He glared at me as I felt the hurt that tried to swallow me, but I wouldn't allow it to engulf me completely.

  Dealing with pain and sorrow always seemed easier if I turned it to anger. I felt the rage begin to boil and the sorrow begin to dissipate. “I came here to surprise you!” For the first time ever, I raised my voice toward him. I didn’t want to cry, but I felt tears burning the corners of my eyes and threatening the powder foundation that blanketed my face.

  To my surprise, his expression softened. Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde. “It’s my work, and it’s confidential.” He looked sincere. “Had I known you would be here, I would have put everything up.” He opened his arms up for a hug, and I fell into them.

  He rubbed my back to comfort me. “I’m sorry, Windy.”

  “It's alright,” I said half-heartedly.

  As we hugged, all I could think of was since when did Zac have a job? I didn’t even think that Zac knew what a job was. His dad always gave him money to get through college. His dad paid for the house he was living in, and for his brand new fully loaded Mustang. Zac didn’t have to worry about spending a dime. Sad to say since I’m the opposite. I always had to work and earn all that I had, including my college tuition.

  That night I had a hard time sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see the map and the dot located on Tybee Island. Living in Georgia all my life, I’ve been to Tybee Island many times. Before my dad passed away, we went there several times every year. The next day at school was when I first dozed off and had the dream of my dad teaching me how to use my powers.

  I watched Professor Spence from his opened office door. He was looking over some papers that made his round face contort as if he were in pain. I realized he wouldn’t notice me anytime soon, so I knocked, making the professor jump.

  “Windy,” he said in an exhausted tone. “Come in. Shut the door, if you please.”

  I shut the door and sat in a chair that faced Professor Spence’s desk. Mounds of books and piles of papers surrounded his workspace, but his bookshelves were almost bare.

  “I wanted to give you the notes you missed earlier.” He started flipping through papers, I assumed to find the said notes.

  With my eyebrows scrunched together, I looked at Professor Spence puzzled as to why he would want to give me notes to his class when I slept through it today.

  He must have noticed. “I don’t do this for all my students, but you seem like you need some help. Plus today's lecture will be a heavy part of the final.”

  I cleared my throat and tried to find my voice. “Umm. Thank you. Why would you do this for me after you said that I was going to be marked absent if I fell asleep again?”

  He stopped shuffling the papers around. “My immediate reaction was anger, and I’m sorry. I do not appreciate you falling asleep in my class. It sets a bad tone for the entire class. I can’t let them think that they can walk in, go to sleep, and make an A, now can I?”

  He smirked at me. I didn’t know if I should smirk back
or frown. So I did what I do best, I looked down at my hands that sat in my lap.

  “Is everything alright at home?” he asked, concerned.

  I looked up startled by his change in demeanor. I nodded.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s good,” I said immediately before I realized what I was doing. I tried to step back through our past conversations. I couldn’t recall if I ever mentioned my mom. “How do you know about my mom?”

  His face was expressionless. He studied me as he did earlier that day. “Just a hunch. I’m a psychologist. We specialize in studying people and their habits.”

  I felt like his answer was a canned one. “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  “No.” He said. “That’s all.”

  He stretched his arm out to me with the notes. I took them and left his office.

  Chapter 2

  I entered my one-bedroom apartment, dropped my book bag next to the door, and tossed my purse on the couch. The first thing to reach my ears was the silence. Sometimes living alone wasn’t worth it. I’d often thought about moving back in with my mom. Living at her house would give me company, and I wouldn’t have to worry about her constantly. One day she would be weak and not want to leave the house. The next day she would be better and want to get out to go shop. However, if I did move, I would lose my independence, something I wasn’t willing to give up.

  Before I got ready for my date with Zac, I flipped on the TV. I didn't watch TV. I turned it on to have voices drown out the eerie stillness that filled the apartment, even if the only thing broadcasting was the news. The reporter was going on about two people found dead on the south side of town. The two people were up here from Coastal Georgia visiting family. I clicked the TV off. I decided the silence was better than being upset about a family I knew nothing about. I didn't want to be sad while I got ready for a much-needed date, so I settled for the radio.