Lost and Found

by Lilian Carmine

  “Well, then Miss Harker really does have to inform his parents. And if I know the Blaines, they will report it to the League right away. They did it with their first child; they will surely do it again. The decision is out of your hands, kiddo.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I huffed, feeling frustrated.

  “I think this can work out,” Craig said slowly. “They’ll have Simon to focus on, and you’ll be off the hook. If Simon doesn’t tell on you, that is. If he tells about the fire he saw, then all bets are off. But if he keeps quiet, I can make it look like it’s all related to him. If he can create wolves and lake monsters, he can create fire, too, I’ll suggest.”

  “You can’t blame Simon for something he didn’t do! It’s not right!” I protested.

  “It’s the only way we can make this work, kid,” Craig countered. “Look, I promise I’ll do what I can to convince them that there’s nothing to see here,” he proposed sincerely. “I’ll throw them off your track, okay? I’m not as good as your dad at fixing things, but I’ll try. I know what it’s like to have no one to take care of you. I’ll do my best to help you.” And he extended his hand for me to shake.

  I slumped my shoulders. “Okay. Thank you, Craig. I owe you one.” I shook his hand, my heart filled with a mix of remorse and apprehension. I could see in Craig’s eyes that, deep down, he was an honest man, and that he would try hard to keep his word. But there was still Simon to worry about.

  “And you . . .” Craig turned to Tristan. “Keep her safe, all right?”

  “Will do, sir,” Tristan promised, shaking the hand he was offered.

  “Okay, then. I need to get going now,” Craig said, walking back to his car. He turned the engine on, and was about to shift gear and set the car in motion, when I called out to him.

  “No, wait! Craig!” I shouted, suddenly realizing I wouldn’t have the chance again to ask him anything more. There was so much I still wanted to know, so many things about my father that Craig knew and could tell me. If I missed this chance, I’d never find out any of it. This was my one and only shot. I couldn’t pass it up that easily! “You can’t go!” I said, planting my feet firmly next to his car. “There’s so much I need to ask you. Is there anything else you can tell me about my father, Craig? Anything at all you can remember . . .”

  I hardly knew any stories about my father’s past, about how he’d been with his friends, what his work was like, his life with my mom . . . My mother ended up so depressed whenever she started reminiscing about life with my dad that, as I grew up, I’d begun to avoid asking any more questions. I didn’t want to make her sad, and she often got sad whenever Jonathan was mentioned. So I stopped asking, and I stopped mentioning him.

  The truth was that I barely knew my father. But Craig did. He could tell me a few precious gems, some old stories – he could share them with me now.

  Craig wound down his window. He seemed taken by surprise at my question. “Hmm, we did work together, but it was a long time ago. To be honest, I didn’t know much about his private life . . .”

  “Yeah, but what about the work you did together? What else can you tell me? What was he like back then? I mean, besides the fact he was an undisciplined, arrogant prick. We know all about that already, right?” I said, with a snort, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Joe . . . I only said that because, well, I don’t know why . . . Please, forgive me. I was being petty and jealous. Jonathan was in the popular crowd and I was the lame, loner nerd. I said all that stuff out of spite, I’m sorry . . .”

  “Oh, you don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind if you have bad things to say about him. I just want to know the truth – how he really was – good or bad, I don’t care. I just want to know.”

  The look he gave me held so much pity, as if it broke his heart to hear what I’d just said.

  “Honestly, we only worked together on a couple missions. We barely talked, then; we weren’t that close. Everybody liked him, though. I guess that’s why I resented him so much . . . He didn’t even have to try, people just . . . liked him, unconditionally.” For a second, he seemed lost in his thoughts, but then he shook his head and glanced up at me. “I can tell you he was a major pain to the headmaster when we were at school, always disobeying orders . . . too headstrong, you know, rushing into things without thinking first. But he was very good at what he did – sort of reckless, but he got things done, and that was what mattered in the end.

  “He did show me his trick with the fire ball, this one time . . . after I’d badgered the hell out of him to let me see it.” He chuckled at the memory. “It was a neat trick. Very pretty. The fire danced in the palm of his hand, like it was floating. Made me remember that magic can be about beauty, delicacy and grace, too.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tristan giving me a meaningful look, a faint, knowing smile ghosting his lips, while Craig continued talking.

  “He would be proud to see what you can do now, how far you’ve come without anyone to guide you . . .” He trailed off, turning his head away from the car window, staring pensively ahead. After an awkward moment of silence, he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know much else. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s okay. You’ve told me so much today. Thank you, Craig. It means a lot to me.”

  He paused, seeming to be mulling something over, and then leaned across to shuffle through papers in the glove compartment. He found a pen and, after quickly scribbling on something, he handed it to me through the window. “Here. Take this.” It was a small white card. “It’s my contact number. I keep it strictly for emergencies; no one knows this number, not even anyone in the League. You call me if you’re ever in trouble, okay?”

  I nodded and took the card from his outstretched hand.

  “And stop playing with fire, kiddo. For your own good, yeah?”

  “I will. Thanks for everything, Craig. I won’t forget your help.”

  “No problem. You’re a good kid. Take care, you two,” he said, before winding up his window and driving off down the graveled road, leaving Tristan and me standing still, watching the pickup disappear.

  “So, what now?” I asked Tristan, after a moment of silence.

  “Now we make sure Simon won’t tell on you,” Tristan said, his expression filled with resolution.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Happy Normal Ending

  “YOU LOOK LIKE you’re about to pass out again. Let me carry you the rest of the way there, please,” Tristan urged, full of worry.

  We stopped first at the clearing where we had left the boys, but there wasn’t anyone there, so we quickly headed to the main house to see if we could find them.

  “I’m fine, Tristan. Stop treating me like a damsel in distress all the time. I’m really not that helpless.” I dismissed his offer with a stubborn scoff.

  I wasn’t injured; I was just tired. There was no need for him to overreact like this. I knew most people thought that boys carrying girls in their arms was romantic as hell, but to me it wasn’t. It only made me feel pathetic and helpless.

  Neither of which I was, thank you very much.

  “You’re surely back to your old stubborn self,” Tristan muttered, shaking his head.

  Yes, I was sure back: good as new and stubborn as ever.

  But the walk was turning out to be excruciatingly tiring and I was already exhausted to the bones. I forced myself to keep walking, but after tripping over my own feet for the second time, I decided it was time to give in a little.

  “Fine. You can lend me your arm for support for a little while, okay?” I compromised, leaning all my weight on him. “How do you think we can convince Simon to keep quiet?” I asked, to divert Tristan’s attention.

  “Well, he promised that he wouldn’t tell anyone, remember? He didn’t want the League anywhere near this place,” Tristan replied.

  “Yeah, but that was before his ass was on the line,” I countered, slightly out of breath as we finally approache
d the main house. “When he finds out his parents are going to be called, and that the League will be notified, too . . . he might not think the same way. He could change his opinion to: ‘What the hell – if I’m going down, I’m taking everyone down with me.’”

  Tristan pursed his lips, none too pleased with that possibility. “We’re just going to have to convince him, somehow. We’ll talk to him and figure it out.”

  There was a big commotion at the front of the main house, with people bustling out of the building, bidding farewell to their friends, packing things into the trunks of their cars and preparing to leave. A car swerved to pass Tristan and me in a hurry, while another car following behind stopped right next to us.

  Alicia Collins was driving, with her sister in the passenger seat and two of her girlfriends sitting in the back.

  “Wow! What happened to you? You look awful!” Alicia exclaimed, eyebrows rising towards her hairline as she gave us a thorough once over. I was sure I must be quite a sight: a sweaty, disgruntled mess dragging my exhausted bones along the road. “I don’t mean you, Tristan. You look a delight, as always,” she quickly corrected, treating him to a flirty bat of eyelashes.

  “Excuse me. Could you stop hitting on my husband, Alicia. I’m right here.”

  “What? I’m merely stating facts: you look bad; he does not,” she argued smartly.

  “Oh, ouch. That hurts. I think I might even cry now. Boo hoo,” I mocked.

  “I can see that even though you may have amnesia, you still remember how to be rude.”

  “My memory is absolutely fine now. You can stop worrying about me. It’s giving you horrible wrinkles,” I said, pointing at her face.

  I didn’t even care about wrinkles, to be honest. People shouldn’t get upset about getting old. It’s a natural thing to happen to every living being on the planet. But Alicia seemed like the superficial type that would get wound up by such a stupid comment; she looked like she worried a lot about appearances. Right on the money, I watched as she gasped in outrage.

  “I don’t have wrinkles!”

  “It’s not what I’m seeing from here,” I provoked. She was getting on my nerves, and my patience was non-existent at the moment.

  “Ladies, please, can we not do this now?” Tristan interrupted, with a long-suffering sigh.

  “I was going on my merry way. She’s the one who stopped to throw out insults and flirt with you!” I pointed out, irritated.

  “Me? I was just trying to leave camp! She was the one strolling along the middle of the road like she owned the damned place. It was either stop or run her over,” Alicia complained to Tristan, then turned to me. “What are you still doing taking strolls, anyway? The Gathering is over, haven’t you heard? Celeste has told everyone to pack up and leave. Which is so stupid! Just because there are a few strange things going on, it’s no reason for her to panic and abort the whole reunion!”

  “It was not her choice. The camp owners are closing Misty Lake until they can arrange for another caretaker. And I’m sure Celeste is only thinking about everyone’s safety, Miss Collins. There’s always next year’s Gathering,” Tristan reasoned calmly.

  “Well, this one has been a complete fiasco, I’ll tell you that,” she grumbled, but her gloomy mood quickly switched to happy when she looked up at Tristan. “Except for your presence, of course. Will we see you again next year, Tristan?”

  “I’m afraid neither my wife nor I will be attending any more Gatherings, Miss Collins.”

  Her face fell in disappointment. “Oh, why is that?”

  “We have a pretty busy schedule with the band, and all. You know how it is. I don’t think we’ll be able to come again, unfortunately.”

  “That’s such a shame.” She gave him her best pout.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you are all going to be crying freaking rivers. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get going,” I interrupted rudely, tugging at Tristan’s arm to make him follow me. “You have a nice life, Alicia. And take care of those wrinkles!”

  I flashed a big fake grin at her outraged face before hurrying away, dragging Tristan with me.

  A black SUV was parked at the entrance to the main house, its doors wide open and a burly man packing some bags inside.

  Celeste was at the front steps, talking to a stern-looking woman dressed in a somber, dark suit. We were approaching them when Simon walked down the steps, carrying a few more bags to hand over to the burly man by the SUV.

  “Look! It’s Simon.” I pointed him out to Tristan. “That woman must be his mother. They are leaving the camp! Hurry!”

  “Celeste!” we both called out. She turned round with an annoyed frown, but when she realized it was Tristan and I calling, her expression changed.

  “Oh, there you are.” She greeted us calmly, but her eyes held an edgy, worried look. “Mrs. Blaine, this is Tristan and Joey Halloway, the couple I was telling you about. They were with your son when this last ‘episode’ happened. Guys, this is Simon’s mother. She was staying at a holiday lodge nearby with Simon’s stepfather. They came as soon as I called them.”

  Mrs. Blaine turned to greet us properly. The resemblance to Simon was very evident: they both had the same dark hair and facial structure, along with the same tall, slim physique.

  “Oh, Celeste told me what you did. Thank you so much, Mr. Halloway, for your help. If it wasn’t for you, things could’ve gotten way out of control . . . I mean, more than it already has.” She shook her head, a tired look softening her stern features.

  “Yes, I’ve told Mrs. Blaine about Tristan’s quick presence of mind, and how he found a way to stop Simon’s hallucinations before someone got seriously hurt,” Celeste cut in.

  I frowned at her odd spin on the latest events, but she gave me a warning look and the message flaring in her piercing blue eyes was loud and clear.

  Keep quiet. Let me do the talking.

  “He’s very sorry for having to knock your son unconscious, Mrs. Blaine. Mr. Halloway is completely against any kind of violence. You can ask any of his friends and they will tell you the same. But it was the only way to make him stop,” Celeste continued.

  “Oh, I’m sure he did the best he could at the time. I understand completely,” Mrs. Blaine agreed, giving Tristan a weak smile.

  “I’m very sorry for your troubles, Mrs. Blaine. I’m glad to see Simon is okay now,” Tristan said, looking at Simon standing a few feet away next to the SUV.

  “We had to sedate him, to prevent any more ‘episodes’,” Mrs. Blaine explained, noticing Tristan’s glance. “I’m afraid he’s not quite himself at the moment. He’s been walking round like a sleepwalker since the sedatives kicked in.”

  I glanced over at Simon, too. He really did look like a sleepwalker, his movements automatic and his eyes emotionless like a robot.

  “There had been some signs that an ability could be emerging, but . . . well, I thought I was overreacting and imagining things. I shouldn’t have left him on his own. But he had so insisted on coming to this Gathering. I thought it was normal for a boy his age to want his independence, so I let him come. If I had been with him, maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

  “What is going to happen to him now, Mrs. Blaine?” I asked, ignoring Celeste’s warning looks to keep quiet.

  Mrs. Blaine gave me her first genuine smile since we were introduced. “It is very kind of you to be concerned about my son, dear. He’ll be all right, don’t worry. We’ll get the best people to help him.”

  “Are you talking about the Top League, Mrs. Blaine? Are you taking Simon to them?”

  She gave me a puzzled look then, clearly not comfortable with my direct question. “W-well, I still have to call his father and tell him about this. He lives in Russia, you see. We need to discuss things before we decide anything, but the League is the best place for people with Simon’s abilities. He’ll learn to control himself with them.”

  “No, Mrs. Blaine! You can’t let him go to them!” I pleaded, raisin
g my voice. “You have to keep them away from your son! You’re his mother, you have to protect him!”

  “W-what?” she stammered, confused by my fervent protests.

  “Simon is terrified of those people in the League. And he loses control when he’s scared. You can’t let him go to that place! It is his biggest fear!”

  “Joey, I’m sure Mrs. Blaine knows what’s best for her son,” Celeste tried to intervene.

  “Please, say you’ll let him stay with you, Mrs. Blaine?” I insisted again. “I know it is not my choice to make, but I promised him I wouldn’t let them take him. I have to at least try to make you see. The best place for him is with you!”

  “I’m not sure if staying home right now is the best thing for Simon, dear,” she said at last, after a moment of tense silence. “From what Miss Harker told me, he’s very unstable and a danger to himself and everyone around him. I know he almost drowned you in the lake because of a monster he created from his fear of water. And there’s also a friend of yours with a broken leg as a consequence of this last episode. I don’t know if I can handle this by myself. Things could get out of control again, and I’m not equipped to stop him. But I will weigh up everything you’ve told me, Joey, before I decide anything.”

  It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for. I opened my mouth to protest, to argue one more time, to try to make her understand, but Tristan’s hand on my shoulder pulled me softly back while he answered for me.

  “Thank you for considering Joey’s advice, Mrs. Blaine. I know it’s not our place to intrude in your family problems.” He stepped forward and placed his hand gently on top of hers. “We only ask you this because we care about Simon’s wellbeing. We’re concerned you might turn to the League because you may fear there is no one else to help Simon, and that maybe you have no other choice. But Miss Harker and her sisters can help, as can Joey and I, of course. You and Simon should know he’s not alone in this. I know for a fact that problems feel less scary, and difficulties seem less hard, when you have friends by your side. The League is not your only option, Mrs. Blaine. We are here for you. We only want you to know that,” Tristan said, his voice soothing and reassuring. “And I know you will choose what is best for him: you are his mother, after all, and you know best.”