by Alex Hayes
I give her a squeeze. “Well, I think you did the right thing.” Except that Ty would’ve been safer if he’d left with Dean. And so would Shri. Damn it. “Dean will get over it. But we’ve, um, got a bigger problem coming our way.”
Shri’s chin bounces up. “What kind of problem?”
I swallow. “A very dangerous one.”
34
Dean
The rear wheels of the Subaru slip as I take the third turn in the Jacobsens’ endless driveway too fast. Dust and grit fly down the hillside. Logic tells me to slow down, but my foot refuses to ease off the pedal.
A car comes barreling toward me. Or rather, I go barreling toward it. Panic takes over and I brake, slowing to a sane speed until the oncoming vehicle passes.
A silver BMW. Idris nods, a frown tightening his features as his car flies past. He’s probably pissed at my reckless driving.
Fear morphs back to irritation. I accelerate, teeth grinding as my thoughts spiral back to Cadi and her alien story.
A harsh laugh breaks free. What a crock of crap. As if a guy like Idris, with his money and easy life, is going to hook up with some alien girl.
Finally, I reach the on-ramp and pull onto Twenty-Eight, heading east, toward the New York-Vermont border.
Smooth asphalt rolls beneath the tires. It feels good to fly, like I’m an Indy driver hitting the curves in the speedway.
Adrenaline overloads my anger circuits and I slide into the groove. Feeling powerful. Fearless. Determined.
Things are going to work out. Forget about Ty’s freak-out session. He just needs time to see things as they really are. Get a grip with reality. A couple of days to chill and he’ll be begging to come home.
As far as Mom’s concerned, all I have to do is get her headed down the right path. She accepts that her drinking is the problem. Our problem. If she gets herself cleaned up and goes back to work, everything will be fine again.
Again? Was it fine before?
My question takes flight as an eighteen-wheeler materializes around the next bend, heading straight for me.
Shit! I hit the brakes. Jesus, what speed am I doing?
No time to look.
The truck driver yanks on his horn, sending fear shooting up my spine as I swerve to the outside of the lane and slide over the white line. The right wheels meet gravel, sending stones cracking and pinging across the underside of the car.
Still moving at breakneck speed, I jerk back onto the tarmac and slip past the massive truck.
Slow down! Jesus!
What the hell am I doing? I could have gone off the road back there and taken a death dive into a gully.
I ease my foot off the gas, chest trembling. The shoulder widens on the next straightaway, so I pull over. The Subaru slows to a halt. I put the car in park and drop my head onto the steering wheel.
I must have lost my mind. Why the hell am I so angry?
Deep breathing calms the tempest raging inside me. My racing heart slows. I need to think. I need to put the brakes on and really think.
As I stare into space, trying to clear my mind, a banged up Nissan speeds by, doing eighty, easy. In a fifty-mph zone. Sunlight flashes scarlet off a wave of long hair that flaps like a flag in the wind.
Jeez, wasn’t that girl me not five minutes ago? Driving like a maniac. I hope she gets the same reprieve from stupidity I did and slows the hell down.
I shake my head with self-disgust.
What if that truck had been a few yards closer when I hit the curve? What if I’d gone flying off the road? What if I were dead? Where would that have left Ty?
I flip on the radio, wishing for an answer.
Classical music fills the car. A symphony. Dramatic strings rise and fall like a storm at sea—all action and tension—then its energy recedes into the calm of wind instruments and a slow cello refrain.
Gran loved symphonies. She’d marvel at how the great composers could create such intensity through music.
I swallow, having had enough intensity for one day.
What would Gran do in my place?
She came to visit after Dad moved out. Stayed with us that whole summer. She always had smiles for Ty and me, but the moment Mom came home, she’d plead tiredness and head to her room.
I never understood what the deal was between them. I asked Gran about it once, not long after Dad left, and she came back with this corny cliché. “You can lead a horse to water, Dean,” she said, “but you cannot make her drink.”
Gran’s words seemed backward because Mom never had any problem drinking. But that’s not what she meant. She was constantly prodding Mom in the right direction, but Mom resisted. She always seemed to have some excuse or other for missing this support group or that counseling session. I’d always figured she was just too tired.
But beyond my notice, Gran had quietly been trying to get Mom off the booze. I recall Mom’s phone calls, the promises she made, and finally, Gran would come back. Mom would be on her best behavior for a few days, then go right back to the drink.
My gran must have realized Mom would never change, but she arrived every vacation, anyway, to take care of us boys.
The truth broadsides me with more force than an eighteen-wheeler. Mom just pulled the same trick on me, making promises, using my love for Ty to talk me into coming home.
Jeez, the warning signs were all there, too. The way she clung on when I carried her to bed. The way she compared me to Dad. The way she bandied about The Man of the House title. She was grooming me for the caregiver role.
Not just for Ty, but for her as well.
Anger tightens the knot in my stomach.
Bringing Dad back was her way to get even because she knew I was fighting it, becoming independent. She recognized my closeness to Shri and saw it as a threat to the status quo.
And Shri…
What did Mom see that I didn’t?
How close we stood at graduation. The intimacy of our conversation. Our casual smiles. Our teasing.
I slam the heels of my hands into my forehead.
How could I be so stupid?
Mom saw the truth. No wonder she felt threatened.
Shri’s been my best friend for months. And if it hadn’t been for my obsession with Cadi, our relationship could have—should have—been a hell of a lot more than just friends.
And now I’ve blown it all sky-high. By treating Shri like she doesn’t mean the world to me. When she does.
A cop car sails past at high speed, lights flashing. Heading west, toward Hopper.
My gaze follows its blue trail. Could that be Providence sending me a message? I start the engine, hang a U-ey and follow the cruiser’s guiding light.
35
Cadi
The purr of a motor replaces the silence as Idris speeds up the driveway and pulls the BMW to a stop. He jumps out. “Cadi, did you hear back from Mr. Scrim?”
Shri stares at him, eyes wary, then swings toward me. “What’s going on?”
“It’s complicated,” I tell her. “Just take in what you can.” I turn to Idris. “He’s on his way and it sounded like he’s hurt. He said an Evatenon was following him.”
Idris’s eyes widen. “And he’s bringing the thing here?”
“Evatenon?” Shri murmurs.
I rise from the stone step. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but he said he needed you. He’s running out of time or something. He wasn’t clear, but it sounded like someone was shooting at him.”
“Shooting?” Shri squeaks, and scrambles to her feet.
Idris glances at her, eyes narrowing. “We need to get everyone someplace safe.”
“Maybe they should leave,” I suggest. “Head to Hopper. Escape.”
“Escape?” Shri echoes, her voice rising.
Idris scrapes his fingers through his tight curls. “We don’t know how soon they’ll be here. It’s probably safer if everyone hides. I passed Dean on the drive up. Guess he’s out of the way, at least. Shri, can you find t
he Jacobsens and Ty? You guys need to get out of sight.”
I look from one to the other. “In one of the outbuildings?”
“Maybe.” Idris glances around. “The barn looks the most stable.”
A beat-up car appears around the last turn in the drive, its engine in high rev. Deep scratches and a crumpled bumper make the vehicle look like a junkyard special. Then I recognize the color. Dark blue. Mr. Scrim’s Nissan.
What in the world happened to it?
The car zigzags and pulls to a juddering stop. A girl with waves of auburn hair leaps from the driver’s seat. She looks about my age.
“Hey,” she shouts. “Is one of you Dresandar?”
“Yeah, me.” Idris strides toward her.
Shri stares after him. “Seriously?”
The girl circles the banged up Nissan. “Mr. Scrim’s in real bad shape. He said he needs to give you information.”
I notice blood splashed across the inside of the window on the passenger side, and my mouth falls open.
Idris dashes to the car and yanks on the door as I follow.
Mr. Scrim sits, crumpled in the seat, blood flowing from a wound somewhere on his chest. There’s so much blood, I feel sick.
“Let me see him!” Shri muscles Idris out of the way, then glances at me. “We need compresses. And someone needs to dial 911.”
“No.” Mr. Scrim lets out a groan. “No hospitals. It’s too late for that. Dresandar, we need to do a mind transfer. There’s information you need.”
Shri ignores the carer’s staggered words. “Cadi, clean dish towels will work.”
I run up the front steps and meet Mama coming out. “There’s a man bleeding,” I pant. “Shri needs dish towels.”
A worried frown pinches Mama’s face, but she nods and disappears into the cabin while I run back to the beat-up Nissan.
Idris has rounded the vehicle and slipped into the driver’s seat, while the red-headed girl stands a few feet away, frozen in place.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She blinks away tears. “Yeah, yeah, but Mr. Scrim… he says he’s dying. That’s why we had to get here so fast. He needs Dresandar. I guess only he can pick up memories.”
“Cadi?” Mr. Scrim murmurs.
I push in close to Shri, who’s trying to examine his wound. “I’m here.”
“Cadi, I need to transform. It won’t save me, but it will slow the bleeding.” He glances at Shri, brow pinched.
“You can trust her. Go ahead,” I say, pulling Shri’s arm away from the carer’s chest.
She gives me a dirty look, then her eyes turn into disks as Mr. Scrim’s body shimmers and he takes on his Livran form. She drops back on her heels. “What the hell!”
Mama arrives behind her with Ty in tow. Then Papa appears.
Oh, crud!
Mama meets my gaze and nods before I can say anything. “It’s okay, Cadi. We already know,” she says, one eyebrow lifted.
My face grows hot. Guess I underestimated their ability to see in the dark.
Mr. Scrim interrupts, his voice a little stronger. “Dresandar, we need to do the transfer now.” He reaches for Idris, who captures the carer’s hands in his own.
“Go for it,” Idris murmurs, and closes his eyes.
“What’s going on?” Ty’s question startles me out of a shocked silence.
I glance around at our human audience. “He’s giving Idris his memories.”
“What I meant was,” Ty says, “that guy’s a lizard. Is he an alien or something?”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah. He’s a Livran.” A series of eyes poke questions at me. “A long story.” I glance at Idris and Mr. Scrim, tied up with their psychic mind transfer, then turn my attention back to the others. “One we don’t have time for right now because there’s a badass alien coming our way, and all of you need to find cover.”
A tingling in my chest makes me turn to the redhead because I sense her crystal. She’s Livran too. “What’s the deal with the Evatenon following you?” I ask.
The girl sparks to life as if I touched her with a live wire. “His phone? Oh my god! Where’s his phone?” She pushes past shoulders to reach Mr. Scrim’s side and fumbles around at his feet.
A phone comes into view, gripped tightly in her hand, as she withdraws. Its screen turns white and cracks. She breathes out a relieved sigh. “That will have done it.”
I stare at the device as water vapor rises off its surface. “Done what?”
“I froze it to stop the transponder giving that Evatenon our location. The creature assimilated a police officer and stole his car. He’s been tracking us since Salt Lake.” She looks over her shoulder, eyes shifting nervously. “He wasn’t far behind us.”
“Find cover, did you say, Cadi?” come’s Papa’s voice, edged with concern.
“Yeah, you guys should hide. In case the Evatenon finds his way here.” Why do I have a horrible feeling he will?
I glance at the girl who just froze Mr. Scrim’s phone and remember the carer mentioning someone called Fire and Ice. Must be her. Hopefully she can use her ability in a way that’s helpful, aside from freezing cellphones.
“What about weapons?” Papa asks, hands on hips. “Can we shoot this Evatenon creature? I’ve a couple of guns in the house.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Right. Shri and Ty, into the barn.” Papa turns to Mama. “Come on, Margot. Let’s root out those firearms in case we need them.”
“Pepper!” Ty shouts. The dog bounds across the driveway from the back of the house.
Shri gives me a worried look. “Be careful.”
“Take care of Ty and Pepper,” I answer.
She nods and follows them in the direction of the barn.
As they tug the door closed behind them, I feel a sharp stab from my crystal.
Something’s wrong.
I touch a hand to my chest. What’s going on?
My question isn’t literal, nor is the crystal’s answer. But its message is loud and clear, Dresandar is in danger.
I look across the interior of the car where Idris grips Mr. Scrim’s hands. His head slowly dips and his breathing turns ragged, then he rocks forward and his forehead clunks against the steering wheel.
My crystal’s connection to Idris weakens. Tell me what’s wrong!
Break their link, or he’ll die, the stone responds.
I dive into the car and yank the carer’s hands out of Idris’s. Mr. Scrim moans and Idris lolls in his seat.
Someone grabs my hoodie and yanks me out of the vehicle so hard I fall on my butt.
The redhead stares down at me. “Why did you do that?”
I twist onto my feet. “Their connection was killing him.”
The girl lets out an angry sob. “He’s already dying!”
“Not Mr. Scrim. Idris!” I scramble around to the other side of the car, snag his hands and hold tight. “Come back to me.”
Tell me what to do? I demand of my crystal.
Its vibrations increase until a burning sensation swells in my chest. You’re doing it. Stay close to him.
I swallow and lean closer.
“I-I think he’s dead,” the redhead mumbles through tears. She searches for a pulse on the carer’s wrist, then she shakes her head.
Grief knots inside me and my own tears flow. I’ve know Mr. Scrim my entire life. He was always there when I needed him. He can’t be gone.
I press my face into Idris’s shoulder and pinch my eyes.
“Hey?” comes a hesitant voice as a finger taps my shoulder.
I sniff and lift my head. “Yeah?”
“I’m Rowan,” the redhead says. Her lips tremble. “I-I think we’d better get ready, you know?”
“Yeah.” I pull away from Idris. His face has color again, but he’s still unconscious.
“Is he going to be okay?” Rowan whispers.
“I think so, but I need to get him inside.” I shape shift into my scaly green body while R
owan looks on.
Our eyes meet.
“You need help?” she offers.
Far stronger in my Livran form, I lift Idris from the car with ease. “You could get the door,” I call to her.
Rowan runs ahead, shape shifting into a Livran as she goes, and shoves open the front door.
I carry Idris inside and look for a safe place to leave him. The under-stair closet seems well protected. Rowan pulls the curtain aside and I lay him down, pushing neatly stacked shoes out of the way.
After kissing his lips, I hustle Rowan outside and we take cover behind Mama’s woodpile. I stare across the driveway, guilt jabbing at me for leaving Mr. Scrim’s body in the crumpled Nissan.
Rowan taps my arm. “So it’s you and me against an Evatenon. Whatcha got?”
“Telekinesis. How about you?” I’m beyond curious about her freezing ability.
“Energy transference. I can heat and cool objects. I do best with extremes.”
“Mr. Scrim said you’ve had some difficulty controlling your abilities.”
She bites her lip. “Yeah. When I’m scared, I can discharge energy without meaning to. I’ve set fire to a few things. Nothing big. Embarrassing stuff, mostly.”
I flash her a smile. “I got you.”
The sound of a vehicle interrupts our exchange.
My heart rate jumps. “That’s got to be him. Keep your head down.”
A police patrol car rounds the last bend in the driveway and slows. I see the driver. He’s disguised as a human, but I can’t miss the violet glow in his eyes that tells me he’s our enemy.
God, I wish Idris were standing beside me, but I’ve no time for doubts. I draw in a breath and stand up.
36
Dean
I keep checking the speedometer, making sure it doesn’t hedge over fifty, but my mind has already zoomed ahead to what awaits me at the Jacobsens’.
An angry brother and a hurt best friend.
I’m pretty sure Ty’ll forgive me, though earning back his trust might take a while. My cheeks flush as I recall what I said, how I acted. I’d been so wound up over fixing things at home, I couldn’t hear what an asshole I sounded like.
