by Kristie Cook
“You should know I’m being called back to Annar to deal with some … challenging situations.”
Trips to Annar are extremely common, but since my father rarely explains ahead of time why he goes, I’m intrigued. “What situations?”
His eyes ferret around the kitchen before he beckons me to sit next to him on a barstool. My mother sits down opposite us, knitting silently. “I need you to pay close attention,” he tells me, “so you can take care of yourself if need be.”
Make that very intrigued.
His voice is low and steady. “Over the last decade, there has been a rash of Magical murders. Cora’s father, for one—you know about that one already.”
I nod. Cora’s dad died five years back in Washington D.C.
“Lizzie’s father, as well—”
Hold on here. Lizzie’s dad disappeared three years ago. It’d been assumed he ran away with another woman, or so Lizzie’s drunk mother often insists while screaming at the top of her lungs.
When he sees my confusion, my father says, “Well, it’s not like young children need to be told about these things.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Focus on what’s important, as it’s critical you understand what’s at stake. Over the last decade, there have been eleven murders we know about on our plane. I won’t bore you with the statistics of the other planes, but there have been murders there, too. During the last year alone, there’ve been three murders here. The Council believes that whatever is going on is escalating rapidly.”
A chill races down my spine. “Are you sure they’re all murders?”
“Yes. Trackers are on the hunt for the culprit, or culprits, but the truth is, we aren’t even sure how many sentient creatures are involved. Chloe, I tell you this because you are a very powerful, important Magical nearing her Ascension. Every single Magical murdered so far has been one of importance. Prior to the last month, all victims had Ascended. The most recently attacked, though, were not.”
I swallow hard. “You’re saying I could be a target.”
My father pauses, kneading his hands back and forth across the counter top. My mother sets her knitting needles down and answers for him. “Yes.”
My mind sort of flatlines.
“You must be vigilant,” my father urges. I’ve never seen him so concerned about me before. If it wasn’t in such a scary context, I might actually cry. “As of right now, you are no longer allowed to go anywhere without another Magical present.”
And … there go my fuzzy feelings. “Are you serious?”
“You are a Creator. Your price to the Council is incalculable. It has been decided that you must be guarded at all costs.”
“My price?”
“We have no idea who is doing this. It could be a Magical, taking out the competition. It could be one of the species after discovering the presence of Magicals. We just don’t know anything, despite our best efforts. Whoever it is, they are strong enough to take out powerful Magicals who normally would have nothing to fear from the nons of their plane.” He stands up, sighing. “The Council must always have a Creator. Kleeshawnall Rushfire is old and is nearing the end of his life span. You are the only other Creator in existence. Whether you like it or not, you will be guarded. And you’ll follow the Council’s orders to the letter. My daughter will not embarrass our family or risk her life because she’s seventeen and unhappy with a lack of freedom. It’s a small price to pay to ensure our kind keeps evolving.”
“There’s another Creator?” I whisper. They’ve never told me this before.
My father has the audacity to look bewildered by my bewilderment. “Of course there is.”
“Do not focus on Rushfire,” my mother snaps. “Are you listening to your father? You will do as you’re told, Chloe.” She then escorts me up to my bedroom. This is not a good sign. “Someone will be here soon to watch over you,” she says as I sit down on my bed. “I wanted him here tonight, but he’s currently out on a mission.” The windows are then checked to make sure they’re latched. She’s never checked them before, not even when I was little. This drives home the severity of the situation.
My hands are shaking. “Who is this guy? Are the others getting babysitters?”
“No. There is no need. You’re the only one Council bound.” She pulls the curtains shut. “You’ll be watched over by Karl Graystone. He is young, only twenty … but your father assures me that the Council insisted on Karl and Karl alone.”
Only twenty … “What is he?”
She knows what I mean. “A Quake.”
An earth mover, another rarity in the Magical world. “Why would the Council send someone so valuable to look after me?”
“As I explained, he is the best. He does not fail at his missions. But, I need to stress something to you. If … gods forbid, someone actually ever does manage to get through Karl, you must protect yourself at all costs. I do not care if it happens in front of two thousand nons, you do whatever is necessary to protect yourself. The Council cannot lose you.”
The sad thing is that my parents’ concern seems only to be what is best for the Council, not for their daughter. How I wish my mom was hugging me right now, telling me it was going to be okay. That she was going to make sure that nobody hurt her little girl. But no—I get a lecture on how I can’t embarrass the family by getting myself killed. Gods.
“When does this Karl arrive?”
“Soon.” She pins me with a long look. “You should know that Karl is recently married and his wife is pregnant. So, no hanky panky.”
I gape in outrage. “Are you serious? I mean, Mother, if there are things out to kill me, do you really think my first thought would be how to sex this guy up?”
She ignores this. “Caleb should be here any minute. We’ve asked him to come and stay until Karl arrives.”
“Caleb? He’s a Faerie. And small. What can he do if we’re attacked?”
“Hey,” says an indignant voice. “I’m a Magical, too, you know. And, besides, I have a cell phone.”
Sure enough, Caleb is hovering in my doorway. And for once, he’s not smirking.
“Good. You’re here,” my mother says. “I expect you to hold to our bargain, Caleb.”
He flies into the room and lands on my desk. “Of course.”
When she leaves, I ask, “Bargain?”
He drops a small duffle bag next to him. “I’m supposed to go with you everywhere until this guy gets here.”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere.”
“You’re not going to the bathroom with me,” I tell him, and he just laughs.
chapter 8
Graham is throwing a barbeque today at the beach. Well, it’s really more like the football team is throwing the party, but it’s mostly due to Graham. He’s a people pleaser and loves getting everyone together in one place to make sure they’re all having fun.
I didn’t feel like getting the fifth degree from Cora, so I neglected to tell her when she picked me up about what my parents had said the night before. And when it came time to leave, Caleb gave her some line about wanting to sketch the shoreline rather than ratting me out. He even insisted on staying in the car, as long as we cracked the windows and left water and food, like he was some kind of dog rather than a person.
“Where’s Graham?” Cora asks Lizzie as soon as we find her. There are already a ton of people at the beach—playing volleyball, laying out despite the cool temperatures, playing board games, or just milling about, talking.
Lizzie points at the water. “Out surfing.”
My eyes follow Lizzie’s finger. I scan the group of surfers bobbing up and down on their boards for Graham. He loves to surf, but it’s the one sport he doesn’t excel at. He keeps trying, though, bless his heart.
“The red wetsuit,” Lizzie clarifies. And then, a tad defensively, “He’s been doing great today.”
Cora snorts, but manages innocence when Lizzie glares at her. I continue scanning the waves, seeing if I recognize any
one else.
And … there they are. Clad in dark wetsuits that match their hair, Jonah and his twin are out in the water. I marvel at how skillful Jonah is when he catches one of the larger waves. I don’t know much about surfing, but I do know this: he’s good. Like, really good. Way better than any of the guys I know at school. It’s like being at an art gallery and seeing a masterpiece hung next to a stick figure. He’s so amazing he takes my breath away.
And then another large wave swells, and Kellan catches it. He’s just as talented as Jonah is, and the two of them on back-to-back waves are quite a sight. But I’m not the only one who’s blown away. Nearly everyone on the beach has stopped to watch their sets.
“Did you know he surfed?” Lizzie asks me.
Yeah, I did. He loves surfing. He’s been doing it since he was little. I just had no idea he was so good at it.
Graham comes to shore and joins us, shoving his board into the sand. The salt water on him smells tangy and sharp when he hugs me. “If it isn’t my favorite trio of ladies. How’s everyone today?”
Cora grins. “I see you return victorious.”
He laughs, embarrassed. “If wiping out five times today still qualifies as victorious, I’ll take it.”
Lizzie immediately jumps to his defense. “I thought you did a great job out there!”
He can’t hide his pleasure, even when he evades. “Man, did the new guys put us all to shame, though.”
“Hmm, yes,” Cora says. “We most certainly did notice that.”
I discreetly stomp on her foot. She stomps right back on mine.
Graham shakes the water out of his hair. “I guess they’ve been surfing a long time.”
Cora nudges me slyly. “Are they here for the barbeque?”
He looks out at them. “Nope, just for the surfing. I invited them to join us, but I guess they already have plans for the afternoon.”
“That’s too bad,” Lizzie says, eyeing me meaningfully. I try to downplay this by yawning.
It doesn’t take a mind reader, though, to realize that Graham’s wondering if Lizzie has an interest in either of the twins. He looks so dejected I want to say something to clarify things to him, but he beats me to the punch. “Yeah, it is too bad.”
Cora and I just stand there lamely as Lizzie blushes straight to her roots. “Well, I mean … they’re new, and it’s …”
“I get it,” Graham says.
Desperate to change the subject, Lizzie laces her arm through Graham’s. “Think you could show me how to work a barbeque?”
His smile is bittersweet but acquiescent. After they’ve walked away, Cora leads me towards our blanket nearby. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on in that pretty noggin of yours?”
I stare back out in the water. Vulnerable with Jonah so close, and yet so far away, I admit, “I miss him.”
She digs in her straw tote for a pair of sunglasses. “He’s right there, you know.”
Is he, though? I mean … is it really him? The Jonah I know?
She sighs at my silence. “Let’s start with the easy questions. Just how long have you known him, anyway? I know from surging that it’s been awhile. But just how long?”
I tell her the truth. It takes a lot to surprise Cora, but she’s surprised now. “Point him out to me.” After I do so, she says, “You should go talk to him.”
I slide my own sunglasses on, self-conscious about possibly being caught staring. Because I can’t help but stare. “It’s not that simple, Cora.”
“It really is.”
Ahem, the little voice mutters. Even Cora thinks it’s a good idea!
Jonah’s caught another wave, one even bigger than before. “Look,” she says. “Do you love him? Because that’s sure how it felt when I surged.”
I rub some sand in between my fingers. “Yes.”
She’s surprised again. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to answer that question so quickly.”
“You said you were going to ask easy questions. That’s an easy question.”
“Then why are you so unwilling to go talk to him?”
The night before, I’d dreamed about him. It wasn’t like the old dreams, though. This one starred a copy of Jonah who told me he had no idea who I was, that I was crazy for approaching him, and that I needed to stay away.
It wasn’t really him, but it was terrifying enough to remind me of what I stand to lose.
Cora motions towards the shallow water, where Jonah waits for Kellan to finish his ride. “He’s standing right there. Here’s your chance. Go.”
Just as my hands grip the towel to push myself up, Kellan joins his brother and they leave. A dull ache in me expands with every step Jonah takes toward the stairs that lead up to the parking lot.
Look at me, I want to yell. I’m right here! Can’t you see me? Don’t you know who I am? But he doesn’t look. He and his brother disappear into the parking lot and out of view.
“That’s what you get for inaction,” Cora flatly declares. The little voice viciously agrees.
A football whizzes by our heads, landing about twenty feet away. Someone calls out for one of us to throw it back. When Cora pretends she didn’t hear anything, I reluctantly go over to get it. As I reach down for the ball, I notice a key ring lying in the sand. I pick it up and turn the keys over in my hand—three keys next to a small, wooden surfboard. I’m just about to do a general surge to find a panicky person sans keys when I become aware of someone standing behind me.
“It appears you’re quite helpful, aren’t you, C? Dismissing unwanted people, finding lost keys …”
I whirl around and nearly smack into Kellan. His hair is wet and disheveled, dark sunglasses sitting up on top of his head. He’s wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, his wetsuit peeled down low on his hips.
Heavens.
My mouth goes dry again. “These yours?”
His fingers brush mine when they remove the keys, and my skin tingles deliciously. The butterflies beat against my rib cage, loud and strong.
A smug smile slowly breaks out across his face, like he can hear just how hard my heart is pounding. Before I can pass out from shame, one of the boys on the football team appears and side checks me hard enough that I lose my balance. Kellan reaches out and saves me from falling.
“Yo, Chlo!” the jock says, grabbing the football. “We’re in the middle of a game, babe! You’re holding things up.”
Once I’m steady, Kellan lets go. Now my whole body is buzzing from his touch, and I nearly fall over again. Much to my pleasure, Kellan appears disoriented, too.
“Sorry,” I murmur to the jock, and thankfully he quickly leaves. After a moment of the two of us simply staring at one another, I clear my throat. “You guys aren’t staying?”
Kellan’s crazy half-grin reappears, twisting my stomach into nervous, excited knots. “Nope.”
I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I want him to stay. I mean, I want them to stay. “Why not? Don’t you guys like barbeques?”
The keys twirl around his index finger. “Sure, but we already have plans.”
“Change them.” And then I slap a hand over my mouth. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I censor myself around him?
He removes my hand slowly. Oh, my. The tingling returns full force.
I’m completely flustered now and babbling like an idiot. “Um, I mean, you guys are new here, and it’d be a good opportunity to meet new people … since you’re new. So, you should … stay … if you … want?” I try laughing, but it only makes me sound worse and sort of like a hyena.
His hand drops from mine. “As nice as it would be to meet new people, since we’re new and all, I’m afraid we’re going to have to pass.”
My cheeks are on fire. “Oh. Well, sure.”
“Really, C. Who could I possibly meet who would be more interesting than you?”
Oh, lords, is this guy charming. I need air. Stat. Which is ridiculous since we’re outside, on the beach, for crying out loud, in sixty
-degree weather. I fear I’m about to swoon when he jingles the keys in his sweatshirt pocket. “Thanks for finding these. Jonah would have my head if I came back empty handed.”
And … that’ll do it. Swoon over. “They’re his?”
He looks confused, but quickly teases, “Your powers of observation know no match.”
I break into nervous giggles. “Oh, you know me!”
“Actually, I don’t.” Kellan leans in, close enough to my ear that I feel his breath on my neck. I’m helpless at suppressing the excited shiver that overtakes my whole body. “But maybe there’ll be a future opportunity to get to know new people, such as yourself. At least, I can hope so. See you later, C.”
When Kellan walks up the stairs, Jonah stares down toward me with an unreadable expression, thanks to a pair of dark sunglasses. I stare back, transfixed, before he turns to finish mounting the surfboards on the rack on top of his SUV.
And then the spell is broken, and I stumble back to Cora, even more confused than before.
chapter 9
What every daughter longs to hear her mother say at breakfast is what mine just announced: “You look awful.”
I’d had nightmares all night. I’m utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, and wishing today was Sunday and not Monday. I do not want to go to school.
“Thanks,” I mutter, nursing a cup of tea.
“Did you have trouble sleeping?” my mother asks, and when she reaches out a hand, I hold my breath, because it looks like she’s about to take mine in hers. But she doesn’t. She picks up a pencil near my bowl instead.
I crush down my disappointment. “Yeah. Bad dreams.”
She opens up the newspaper to the crossword. “Dreams are mostly irrelevant. Just shake it off.”
Sympathy is an alien creature to my mother. Why I should’ve expected it from her is beyond me. “But, obviously,” I point out, “sometimes dreams are valid.”
“That’s wishful thinking, Chloe. Usually they’re nothing but images your brain cooks up while resting.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
She looks up from the paper, face scrunched in consternation. “Are you referring to the boy you think caused the shifts on Friday?”
