Beck slapped a hand on his thigh. “So, we've got a plan. Back out to the clearing.”
“I'll head out with you guys,” Dylan said.
“Let's unload first,” Wren suggested. “Then we can take my car. At least my mom left me that.” She rolled her eyes.
“Wait, unload what?” Dylan asked.
“Beck and Wren are moving in,” Miranda replied.
“Here? Huh.” Dylan was quiet, and Chloe didn't have to be able to read minds to know what he was thinking. Most of The Order would be under one roof. And Dylan still lived at home.
“Maybe . . .” Miranda's voice trailed off as she glanced quickly at Maia and Chloe in turn. They all avoided looking at Dylan or his father. Professor Kennedy may have come on board as far as the Order was concerned, but none of them wanted to push their luck.
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence that nobody wanted to break. Finally, it was the professor who cleared his throat.
“This house is in a good location,” he said. “Close to campus and to the coffee shop.”
Dylan gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing, but not forming words in his shock.
“And with so many of you sharing, the rent can't be so bad . . .” Professor Kennedy shrugged. “We could probably swing it.”
“Are you—What are you saying?” Dylan asked.
“I'm saying that your room would make a great home gym,” his dad replied with a quirk of his lips. Chloe was beginning to see where Dylan got his smart aleck-ness.
His face lit up. “Seriously?”
Professor Kennedy smiled. “Well, if you'd rather share a house with five other people than stay in your nice, quiet childhood home, who am I to stand in your way?”
“Then, I guess it's up to you guys.” Dylan scanned the room. “You want another roommate?”
Amidst the chorus of yeses, Chloe was the only one who raised a question. “Wait a second,” she said. “Of course, we'd love to have you, but where? With Beck and Wren here, we're out of rooms. Unless . . .” She looked at the couple on the couch. “I mean, if you guys want to share . . .”
Wren's face turned beet red. “Uh, I don't know—”
“We're not really—” Beck added. “It's a little early for that, right?” He glanced at Wren, looking decidedly uneasy.
“Right!” Wren said quickly. “I mean, roommates is one thing, but roommates . . .”
“Right.”
“Not that I—”
“—me neither. Of course not!”
“I mean, maybe . . . someday . . .”
“Yeah, someday. That would be . . . yeah.” Beck swallowed nervously.
The two of them looked so miserable that Chloe was sorry she brought it up. “Okay then, the question remains. Where to put Dylan?”
“How about the attic?” Dylan suggested.
“Seriously?” Miranda wrinkled her nose. “It's so dark and dusty up there.”
“I don't mind.”
“Dylan can bunk with me,” Beck said. “I mean, if you want to.”
“That'd be awesome,” Dylan replied. “You sure?”
Beck shrugged. “Yeah, of course. I don't need much room.”
“You can take the room next to the kitchen,” Chloe said. “It's bigger. And I think I saw another twin bed up in the attic.”
“A dresser, too,” Miranda said. “Beck can probably bring those down one-handed.” She flashed him a grin and he rolled his eyes.
“Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be roped into all the heavy lifting around here?” He stood up and stretched.
Dylan patted him on the back. “Just playing to your strengths, buddy. You are the brawn of this operation.”
Beck laughed. “And I suppose you're the brains?”
“Well, I don't mean to brag, but . . .” Dylan held open the front door so the others could pass before him.
“Are we sure we want them living here?” Maia stage whispered to Chloe.
“Hey!”
And with that, they headed outside to unload the cars and move the others in.
They didn't even notice the man standing in the shadows of a tree on the corner, watching them all with interest.
Chloe didn't know what she expected to find at the clearing. Some evidence of what had happened there—the blood and violence—remnants of the horror left behind as some kind of tribute, maybe.
Instead, it seemed largely untouched to the untrained eye. Grass and weeds had grown up in the more than six weeks since the battle, no longer trampled flat and singed by fireballs. The ice was long melted by the spring sun, and yellow and blue wildflowers bobbed in the breeze, making the scene almost idyllic. A peaceful spot to stop and have a picnic, maybe. The makeshift cage against the cliff was gone—the work of Beck and the others. They couldn't leave it there without raising questions, and Chloe had been in no shape to deal with it at the time.
The boulders they left scattered around the clearing, fallen trees crisscrossed along the edge. Most people wouldn't even notice, assuming a wind storm was to blame for the piles of logs and branches. But Chloe could see it all. Beck pushing over trees and throwing rocks; Maia and Wren flashing in and out of sight as they fought. Fireballs and lightning crackling through the air. Dylan crouched with Tru under his shield.
It touching everything. Chaos whirling on the far side of the clearing, darkness and smoke spiraling into the blackened sky. Feeding the violence, and feeding off of it. The noises . . . the screams . . .
Ethan.
Ethan.
“Chloe? You all right?”
She blinked, jarred out of her overwhelming memories, to find Wren watching her with a worried look on her face.
Chloe cleared her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.”
“Did you have a vision?” Beck asked.
“No. Just the memories, you know. It's . . .” She wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, but Beck nodded in understanding.
“I get it.”
Chloe set her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Well, let's see if there's anything to find out here,” she said.
They split up, Beck examining the area over by the makeshift corral while Wren took the eastern side, and Chloe the west. They picked through the debris, unsure of what they were looking for, and without saying it aloud, finally came together at the edge of the forest where Ethan had disappeared.
“Anything?” Chloe asked.
“Just dirt and rocks,” Beck replied. “I'm not sure what else we expected to find out here.”
“I don't know either,” Chloe said. “But I think if we are going to find anything, it'll be here.”
Wren approached the circle of dirt and rocks before them, toeing the edge with her shoe. Unlike the rest of the clearing, the weeds had yet to grow back where Chaos had presented itself as a whirling cyclone. The ground was almost black, as if someone had lit a huge bonfire and then swept away all of the ashes when it burned to the ground. The circle was almost twelve feet across and the three of them stood along the perimeter, hesitant to cross over it.
With a shaky breath, Chloe finally took a step, almost waiting for something to happen. She wasn't sure what. When it didn't, she glanced back at the others sheepishly before continuing to the center of the circle.
This was where it happened, she thought to herself. She crouched down and placed a palm flat on the blackened dirt, a rush of grief sweeping through her and nearly knocking her over. She choked on a sob and covered her mouth, fighting to maintain control.
An arm came around her shoulder and she turned to Wren, letting the girl draw her into a hug. They knelt in the dirt as Chloe cried into Wren's shoulder and Beck took her hand and squeezed it gently. Neither said a word. What could they say, really? They just let her cry until the tears dried up and she pulled away, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve and drawing in unsteady breaths.
“You okay?” Wren asked finally.
“Yeah,” Chloe replied. “Well, not really, but . . .
yeah.”
Wren nodded. “Should we get out of here?”
“I think that's a good idea,” Beck said. “There's nothing here that's going to help us.”
“You're probably right.” Chloe got to her feet and offered a hand to help Wren get up. “Let me just try and see if I can get a vision of anything.”
Beck and Wren backed away and stood at the edge of the circle, holding hands, while Chloe closed her eyes, a few feet away from the center. She breathed slowly, focusing her thoughts as she'd been practicing, finding that light deep inside of her as she ignored her grief and pain, and searched for that bridge between her consciousness and her gift.
Nothing happened.
She took a step closer to the center and tried again. Breathing in and out. This time she tried to think about Ethan, clinically re-creating the scene when he'd vanished in her mind. Sorrow poked at the edges of her awareness, but she fought it back—fought to observe, not to get swept up in the memories, to hold on to the present and not get lost in the past.
With an aggravated grunt, she opened her eyes. “It's not working,” she called out.
“Maybe you're trying too hard,” Wren offered.
She glanced back at her, trying not to let her irritation show. “I'm open to suggestions.”
“Relax?” Wren said with a shrug.
“Relax. Right. Like I haven't thought of that,” Chloe muttered under her breath. She scanned the area, her eyes narrowed, and finally walked right to the center of the circle. She turned around to face Beck and Wren, both watching her warily.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, counting to time each breath . . .
In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
She didn't try to focus on anything in particular this time. She just stood in the middle of the circle, arms loose by her sides as she let the tension flow from her body.
In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
She was aware of the breeze ruffling her hair, the air on her skin, the sun peeking through the clouds overhead casting light and shadows behind her eyelids.
In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Nothing.
“I give up,” she groaned. “It's not working.” She opened her eyes and froze in shock and confusion because she saw . . . nothing.
Were her eyes open? She tried to blink, but she couldn't. Her eyelids didn't respond to her commands. She wanted to touch her face, but her arms hung heavy by her sides, unresponsive to her commands. She couldn’t lift them. She couldn't move anything. She was frozen in place, suffocating, surrounded only by endless darkness. It closed in around her, stealing her breath, pressing against her skin. She couldn't think. Couldn't feel her limbs. Couldn't breathe. Panic set in, fear racing along her nerves, her heart pounding faster and faster . . .
Where was she? What was happening?
Trapped. Frozen. Lost. Terrified.
She had to escape. Had to get help. But how?
Chloe could feel the blood racing through her veins, but she didn't have enough oxygen, couldn't inhale deeply enough to fill her lungs. Deep down inside she knew it was a vision, knew she had to gain control, somehow. Separate herself from what she was seeing. Logically, she knew that. But logic had no place there, not in the endless void surrounding her.
She gasped for breath, fought against the invisible bonds holding her captive, but nothing worked. No light. No air. No . . . No . . .
“Chloe!”
She groaned, her entire body aching.
Wait.
She could feel her body now. Could feel a stab of pain, something sharp poking into her back. Chloe opened her eyes, almost crying with relief when she saw Beck and Wren hovering over her. She was lying on the rocky ground—that explained the pain.
“Are you okay?” Wren asked.
“What . . . what happened?” Chloe started to get up, pausing when black spots danced at the edge of her vision. She was still confused, trapped between the vision and reality. The darkness and the light. “What . . .”
“You passed out,” Beck replied. “You were standing there and then you collapsed.”
“How long was I out?” She rubbed the back of her head and felt a knot forming. Perfect.
“About five minutes,” Wren said. “We were about to carry you to a hospital. God, Chloe, you scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry,” she murmured, finally getting to her feet. Well, more leaning on Beck as he swept her up. He kept a strong arm around her as she swayed.
“Don't apologize,” Wren said. “Come on, we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
“Of course I can walk.” She took a step and stumbled, but Beck kept her from falling.
“You hit your head. You might have a concussion,” Beck said. “You should see a doctor.”
“I'm fine.”
“I don't care. You're going to the student med center when we get back.” Wren took her other arm and flashed Beck a worried look Chloe was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to catch.
“I'm okay,” she said, although she did let them support her as they headed back toward the trail. “I'll be okay.”
They were silent, walking slowly through the woods for a few long minutes before Wren asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Chloe let out a long breath. The lingering images of the vision made her uneasy, the feelings of panic still hovering at the edges of her consciousness. But with each step, they grew a little more distant, and she a little more strong.
“Darkness,” she replied. “Just . . . darkness everywhere. All around me. I couldn't see anything. Couldn't move. Couldn’t breathe.” Her heart started to pound at the memory and she gasped in short gulps as the terror reared its ugly head, grabbing hold of her. “I couldn't . . . I can't . . .”
“Shh, it's okay,” Wren pulled her to a stop, stepping in front of Chloe to grasp her shoulders. “You're okay. You're not there. You're here.”
Chloe nodded frantically.
“Try to match my breathing,” Wren said, placing Chloe's hand on her chest. “Come on, now, breathe with me . . . in . . . and out . . .”
Chloe focused on Wren's instructions, counting and sucking in air, forcing it out shakily, only to inhale again. After a few long moments, the panic receded.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“No need,” Wren replied. “It sounds like a terrifying vision.”
“It was.” Her voice came out a little shakier than she intended, and Beck wrapped his arm back around her shoulders to give her a squeeze.
“It's okay,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. “It's not real.”
“No, that's the thing,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “It is. It is real.” She pulled away from the two of them and took a few steps, breathing deeply to center herself before turning to face them.
“I don't think it was a symbolic vision. Not a metaphor, or whatever,” she said. “I think . . . for a few seconds, at least. I think I actually saw through Ethan's eyes.”
They both watched her, confusion evident on their faces.
“What do you mean?” Wren asked.
Chloe approached them, conviction heavy in her chest. “I mean that Ethan's trapped,” she said. “He's trapped in a horrible, dark place. And he's—” she choked on a sob, suddenly hit with a wave of grief. “He's aware of it all. He's—” She shook her head, swiping at the tears. “We have to get him,” Chloe said firmly. “He can't stay there. I don't care what happens. We have to save him!”
To her surprise, it was Beck who pulled her into a hug as Wren rubbed her back soothingly.
“We will,” he said. “We'll find him. We'll do it.”
“How?” she mumbled into his shirt.
“I have no idea.” Beck's voice
vibrated in his chest. “But we won't stop until we do. Whatever it takes.”
Chloe glanced at Wren, who nodded. “Whatever it takes,” she said.
Chloe stood up and wiped her cheeks. No time for tears. She inhaled deeply and her jaw tensed.
“Whatever it takes,” she agreed.
Chloe felt much better by the time they walked out of the woods, and tried to beg off seeing a doctor, but Wren was relentless, so they stopped at the medical center on the way back. It was blessedly empty, so they were in and out rather quickly—Chloe was fine, no sign of a concussion—but it was still almost dark by the time they finally headed home.
To their surprise, an unfamiliar black pickup sat parked in the driveway when they got back to the Victorian.
“Who's that?” Beck asked as they got out of his car.
“Not sure,” Chloe murmured.
They walked into the house to find the others gathered in the kitchen, and Gavin James leaning against the far counter, accepting a glass of water from Maia.
“You're back!” Miranda said, popping up from the kitchen table. She'd been sitting next to Dylan, who was signing something.
“We called Gavin about the new roommates,” she explained. “So you're just in time.”
“Oh, great,” Chloe said, smiling at Gavin. “I hope it's all okay.”
Gavin took a sip of the water and set the glass on the counter. “Of course. I told you the rooms would fill up eventually.” He turned to Beck and held out a hand. “I'm Gavin James.”
Beck shook his hand. “Beck Leighton.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You look really familiar,” he said. “Have we met?”
Gavin shrugged. “Not that I know of. Maybe we've seen each other around town.” He turned to Wren. “You must be Roommate Number Six.”
“Wren. Wren Galloway” She smiled and shook his hand, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for this. I don't know what Beck and I would have done if we couldn't move in here.”
“Not a problem, the more the merrier,” Gavin replied, his dark eyes twinkling as he grinned. “Although, I think we've met the max now for the house.”
“Amen to that,” Miranda muttered, but she softened her words with a smirk. “Six people and two bathrooms. Should make mornings interesting.”
Super Heroes (The New Super Humans #4) Page 2
