Toren had no reason to lie.
None.
And he’d stood before the world, proud and tall at my side, explaining away the events of what had happened in Kansas City. His words were sure, his reports sound, his conviction unshakable. It also didn’t make sense that he’d want to take her out.
He had nothing to gain.
I needed to talk to him, for reassurance if nothing else.
He was one of my only allies in the entire world. If I couldn’t put faith in that, like I couldn’t put faith in the actions of the Gods, then I was truly nothing.
My subconscious twinged, a detail struggling to rise.
Something about that dream wasn’t quite right.
Aside from the obvious.
The pilot’s voice came through and overhead speaker. “We’re estimated to land at 6:04 p.m. local time, sir.”
I squeezed my hands in my lap and peered out at the choppy grey waves beneath the belly of the plane. It was a risk, a calculated one. But if I were seventeen and on the likely verge of a traumatic breakdown, there was only one place I’d want to go.
My fingers burned.
When I looked down, smoke curled from my fingertips.
That sense of helplessness swirled uneasily.
“Make sure my car is waiting.”
26
Zara
Finn slipped the straps of a backpack over his shoulders. “And where, exactly, do you want to go?”
“Home.”
“Nebraska? Why?”
“I want to see my parents.” I shrugged. “I’ve only talked to my mom once. They’ve probably seen me on TV back here in the States. They need to know what’s going on. And I need answers, answers that only they’ll be able to give.”
Ryder cursed and dropped to the bed. “That’s a waste of time. And I bet the Order is anticipating you’ll head there next.”
I spun a finger at both boys in a universal gesture to turn around so I could change out of my grimy pajamas.
“Good thing it’s not your call,” I quipped.
Ryder bristled. I could tell by the tension in his shoulders. “It is her right, Finley?”
Finn swiveled on his heel as I tugged on the sleeves of my jacket. I opened my eyes wide so he could see the color of my irises. He flipped me off. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Finn opened the motel room door, gesturing us outside with a frown. He dropped the sarcasm. “Whatever that thing was before isn’t listening right now, are they?”
I hesitated right outside the door, my foot hovering above the ground. Good question.
“No,” I drew out the vowel as I mentally spiraled inside myself, probing corners of my powers for a hidden entity. Granted, I wasn’t quite sure where she was or if I could even really tell if she was listening or not. Or if she was even there anymore. “No.”
Ryder’s stiff shoulders relaxed marginally. “Good. She doesn’t need to know what we’re up to.”
“I’ve never known a subject’s eyes to change like that during a possession,” mused Finn as we ambled up to a car I assumed was ours. “I know people can look disjointed when a witch has them in their control, but I’ve never heard of the possessor having such a distinct, external look before.”
Ryder offered a one-shoulder shrug in response.
“Purple eyes aren’t all that common either…”
“You and I both know of two beings with eyes that color.” Ryder slanted his eyes at Finn. The kelpie scratched his head, ruffling his dark hair, and ran a finger over his teeth before bouncing his head in an undecided, agreement sort of way. He tugged the door open and slipped inside.
“Could you get a read on whoever it was inside of you?” Ryder asked. “You’d have the closest access to them.”
I settled into my seat and buckled in as we pulled out of the lot. “Female. Powerful. Very powerful. Knowledgeable about my abilities, the extent of my powers. She’s kicked me out of my own control twice now,” I said. “She’s fierce, arrogant, demanding. And she likes to have control.”
The vehicle slowed and Ryder pulled into a gas station near the interstate.
“We desperately need gas if we’re going to hit up Nebraska… or anywhere.” From my spot in the backseat I could see the gauge dipping beneath the E. His tone lightened and he patted his belly in an adorable kind of way. “Also, time to grab some munchies. I’m starving.”
“One sec,” I said. “Before we all leave, I want to throw out the option of teleporting one more time. That sounded totally awesome before.”
“I really wish you hadn’t said anything,” Ryder grumbled at Finn. “I can’t teleport. I just can’t. I’m getting stronger every day. But it’s not there yet. You could kiss me silly right now,” my jaw dropped, “which I would be completely on board with by the way, and I still wouldn’t have enough energy.”
“Worth a shot,” Finn mused.
I smacked Ryder’s shoulder and hopped out, reaching for the black credit card he offered for snacks. It was one of many I’d noticed in his wallet. Rather than letting go like a normal person, he shifted his grip and wrapped his fingers around mine. My stomach trembled as his eyes drifted over my face, back to the braid, then again to my eyes. I winked and he smirked, shoving me toward the door of the convenience store.
“I demand chocolate. Lots of it. M&M’s, Snickers, Twix.” I walked away as he rattled off more names. I found the selection easily enough, murmuring something to Finn about needing sandwiches or something with substance, and blindly snatched up a dozen bags of treats.
As I passed by the large front windows leading to the register, I glanced outside. I’d expected to see Ryder squeegeeing the windows or checking for trash in the back seat, anything to burn some of the massive amounts of energy he always radiated. What I hadn’t expected to see was the fierce intensity on his face, the bent-at-the-knees stance that was somehow predatory as he stared at a brunette fiddling with one of the pumps next to ours. His hands were curled into fists on the hood of our car. The woman turned toward her vehicle, and he visibly forced himself to relax, to turn away from her. I wondered at the restraint it probably took to hold his hunger back and at the weird tightness in my chest as I watched.
My focus on the window shifted, and I caught sight of myself staring back, at the intricate braid I could now finally see over my shoulder. I shifted the bags in my arms around so I could touch the intricate knots, admiring the beauty of the silvery strands I normally tied back without a care.
These knots meant something.
Finn had hinted at it earlier, and now I knew why.
I turned from the window and practically knocked into Finn. His arms were as laden as mine, but he only had eyes for my face, my dazed expression. A subtle shake of his head had me swallowing back the question I dearly wanted to ask, and it took some real effort to act casual as we paid for our cache.
Finn snatched the cheap plastic bags in one hand and exited the building. The bell dinged as he rushed away from me and my questions. But I lingered. A newspaper on the wire stand leaning heavily against the wall by the door blared a headline I couldn’t ignore. I picked up the top copy, opening it to its full, front page glory. I skipped past the color-coded nuclear threat warning topping the page and ran my thumb over the pixilated grey-and-white square boxing in my face just above the fold.
“Missing Omaha swimmer not among dead teammates in Norway,” The Register boldly proclaimed. “Current whereabouts unknown as officials search for attacker.”
Concern for my parents spiked, and my resolve to head home hardened.
It physically hurt to fold the newspaper back up and set it back on the stand. Over the stack of newspapers, a muted television played live coverage from one of the national cable networks. Closed captioning scrolling in black and white along the bottom.
But above it was me.
Me hovering over Kansas City on a twisting rope of water, twin balls of bluish water writhing around my clenched fi
sts. The camera zoomed in on my face as the helicopter approached for the second pass, my expression stony, eyes blazing that unnatural crystal aquamarine Ryder was so fond of.
I pressed the knuckles of my hand to my mouth as I stared up, reading scrolling copy.
“No fatalities,” I was relieved to read.
“Mass destruction,” was less comforting.
“Cat’s outta the bag, I see.” Ryder said, munching on a Kit Kat.
I didn’t respond, couldn’t speak because my heart was in my throat as I watched myself jump from the towering spiral of water onto the helicopter. The ropy mass collapsed and moments later blue energy exploded out of the chopper. Long, porcupine spikes punctured the armor. The cameraman lost me as I jumped from the spiraling death-mobile. Then the black fog swallowed me whole.
“Incredible. Reckless. But incredible,” he muttered, his lips close to my ear to keep the clerk from hearing. Something like pride shimmered in his voice. He bit into the candy with a crunch. “For someone who learned they’re the all-knowing master of water a few days ago, you showed considerable awareness and restraint.”
I turned, hope brimming.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. “For most of us it takes decades, centuries to learn total control of our abilities. Gods have less time, by default, but even for them, it typically takes years of practice and training to harness the level of power you possess.
“It’s why most of the Gods remain in their temples, raised by a plethora of priests and priestesses. You are the first to have ever been torn away from that regimen. I wonder if all that swimming you’ve done, the training you’ve gone through for the Olympics, has worked as a substitute. It’s not like the element is a stranger to you.” A horn blared from the parking lot and he sighed heavily. “Time to go, our child is getting impatient.”
I took one last look at the television screen now showing a live look of the destruction spanning a full block of downtown K.C. The newscaster had several pundits around the table, and even more on video conferencing, all speculating about the possibility of the God of Water actually existing and what that meant for the state of global affairs.
Finn opted to drive this time, his handling of the car much smoother than Ryder’s aggressive swerving and jerking around the most minor traffic irritants. Rather than go shotgun, Ryder sat right in the middle of the back seat.
“No one likes that spot,” I commented.
“No one clearly has had a chance to sit next to you.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” But I allowed him to draw me out of my funk with mindless car games. He’d even pulled a deck of “UNO” cards out of some hidden compartment in the vehicle. Our conversation was purposefully kept light and relaxed.
Before long we were crossing the bridge over the Missouri River, passing a billboard showcasing a pair of giraffes craning their long necks to look down on passing traffic. Nerves jangled and I straightened to better look out the window. I ignored Ryder poking my thigh when I missed my turn in the game. Finn followed my directions without comment.
Grey clouds with bellies full of water finally burst, showering our car as we drove onto my street. The sound of droplets pinging on the roof was hard and metallic. My dad’s rusty, Ford Explorer was parked outside and I heaved a sigh of relief. It was a Thursday. Mom worked accounting at some big firm and would be home by now, but my father was a college calculus professor and often got lost in his work for hours on end.
Nervously, I tugged at the ropes of my braid, but with a single, slanted look from Ryder stopped me from doing any real damage to his intricate work.
As we got out of the car, cool droplets of rain coated my skin and soaked my jeans and jacket. They clung to me as if drawing energy from my body, or perhaps passing energy on. It tingled pleasantly.
Finn insisted we grab our bags just in case and walked beside me as we hopped up the four steps to the front door of the yellow house. My hand automatically went to my back pocket for my keys before I remembered I’d lost them. I hadn’t been home in forever, but it still felt awkward pressing the doorbell.
A rustle came from inside, the quick clips of heels clattering on tiled floor, and the lock rattled as it turned. Our door didn’t have a peephole. It was something my father had always meant to rectify, but we got so few visitors that it hardly seemed to matter. My mother pulled the front door inward and stumbled back, hands flying to her mouth.
“Zara?” she whispered. “We’ve been so worried. Ever since Norway. And your phone call.” She was still dressed for work: snappy black paint suit with red pumps, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. I offered a weak smile and reached for the screen door since she seemed incapable of movement. Ryder and Finn followed me inside.
“Who is it, Laura?” my father called from somewhere inside the house. I imagined he was tucked away in the den with the TV turned to the Cubs game. “If it’s the FBI again, show them in. It’s not like they’ll find anything they didn’t find before.”
Tears trailed from Mom’s eyes and caught on the edges of her fingers that bracketed her nose and covered her mouth. We’d never been the type of family that touched or hugged—especially as I’d grown out of adolescence—and with company present I wasn’t sure how to move or act for that matter. I glanced back at Finn and Ryder who, despite the walk in the rain, appeared as dry and styled as magazine models. Ryder passed a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down, but it kept springing up in a flurry of spikes. He quirked a grin and shrugged.
“Laura?” My father’s voice sounded closer.
Mom seemed to snap out of her shock, and swiped at the wetness on her face. Her skin was splotchy beneath the makeup. The swelling in my chest burst and I moved those last few steps, right into her embrace. My face smashed against her shoulder, and I clung to her, arms digging deep into her slender waist, pulling every ounce of comfort from her hug as I could get. She let out a watery gasp, holding me close, her hand pressing against the back of my head. I didn’t care what she did to Ryder’s art, so long as she held me as tight as she could.
She pulled back, eyes burning with love and happiness and… despair. They darted between my own, red-rimmed eyes with concern I found alarming.
She spoke first, “Honey, there’s something I need to –”
“Laura.”
We both froze. Her eyes darted from my face to over my shoulder, back at the kitchen at the other end of the long, dark hallway. Her lips went white with tension and she drew back, pulling me to her side. A lumberjack of a man stood there, his back to the light. But there was no mistaking my father. He was a big bear of a man with beefy arms and a black beard cut close to his face.
He stood there for a moment, shoulders rising and falling with his breathing.
Then: “You’re here.”
My father had always been a matter-of-fact kind of guy. I’d always considered it an oddity of his supreme cerebral approach to life. But even that was par for the course for him. He sounded like he barely knew me, like I was an irritating neighbor who always stopped by at the most inconvenient of moments. Not like the daughter he’d adopted as a baby and raised within in his four walls.
The tenuous control I’d regained over my emotions trembled.
“I’m home. I promise I tried to call, but neither of your phones are working,” I said in the smallest voice I’d ever used in my life. I felt like I was four inches tall and made of mud. My mother edged ever so slightly closer to me as Ryder’s overwhelming body heat soaked into my back. Finn had also moved, gripping my arm in silent support. I cleared my throat, thankful for it. “I hope you don’t mind I brought some guests with me.”
Another beat passed before he turned sideways, the light finally found his face and the severe frown cut into his lips. “Well, come on in. Laura, check the curtains.”
A chill settled on my skin as she peered down at the now empty opening to the hall, before turning on her ice pick heels to the front
sitting room. Finn gave me a strange look, clearly picking up on the vibes everyone was sending out.
“I need to keep watch,” Ryder said and flicked a thumb at the room that darkened as metal rings slid across the rod, curtains drawing tight against the murky evening light. “I’ll be listening, though. If you need me, you won’t even need to ask.”
Then he was gone.
Rattled and more than a little confused, I grabbed Finn’s hand and guided us into the kitchen. I peered around. It looked different than I’d left it during Christmas break last year. Foreign somehow. The bright yellow walls and white crown molding were the same, but the pictures that used to hang on the walls and the decorations of daisies of which my mother was so fond were gone. The mixer and toaster—even the coffee maker, all vanished from the counter tops. Even the circular table lacked its traditional blue-pattered place mats. The stainless-steel appliances and granite counter tops gave it an impersonal and sterile edge.
“Are you moving?” The words sort of fell from my mouth. I’d expected divorce, but were they selling the house, too? “What happened to your phones?”
My father, now perched on a stool at the island with his arms crossed over his bulky chest, eyed Finn’s hand clasped tight in my own. He still had yet to smile, even offer the vaguest hint of relief that I was here. His lips pursed as he looked past me and at the French doors through which I could now hear my mother’s heels approaching.
As she flipped off the dining room light, she said to me, “We need to talk.”
“…sure.” I was drenched in cold sweat, eyes darting back and forth between the people I loved, the people who now felt a little like strangers. I blinked and more words tripped out of my mouth, a torrent of language I’d been dying to spit out all coming to me at once. “I mean, there’s loads I need to tell you. I’m sure you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, what’s been happening to me.” I’d dropped Finn’s hand, and my own now moved in animated flapping gestures. “You won’t believe—”
Walk on Water Page 22
