The Naturals Trilogy

by Madeline Freeman

  “That was my story: A Veneret father who’d married a common woman. I’d finally learned the truth about who I was and I wanted to join my people. But, since that was my story, I couldn’t have contact with my parents anymore. I haven’t talked to them in seven years.”

  “Wen—I’m so sorry—”

  “Forget it,” Wen said, waving her concern away with his hand. “It’s not like I’m entirely without family. I’m still in contact with my pain-in-the-ass older sister.” He grinned.

  Morgan didn’t return his smile. A thick, cold pressure settled in her chest. “This is all my fault.”

  Wen sighed. “Don’t be stupid. I didn’t tell you this story to make you go all pity-party on me. I just wanted you to know that I can understand a little of what you’re going through.”

  “But—you’d still have your parents in your life… if it wasn’t for me.”

  Wen took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “It was my parents’ choice. My choice. I’ve spent my whole life knowing you’re worth whatever sacrifice I would have to make. Do I miss them? Yes, of course I do. But you feeling all sorry for me isn’t going to reunite me to them. You know what is?”

  Morgan shook her head.

  “You training, getting stronger. You staying safe and not taking any stupid risks. You becoming the One you’re meant to be.” He released her shoulders. “Think you can do that for me?”

  Morgan felt dizzy. “Yeah—I mean, I think.”

  “Good. Now, first things first: Promise me you won’t try to search for your mom.”

  She searched his face. She should tell him—tell him everything. She should tell him about the blinding energy she encountered the night the training house had been broken in to, about Kellen coming to her in a dream. But something stilled her tongue. Here he was, talking about how much he believed in her and all of the sacrifices he’d made to be a part of her life, and she had ignored his warnings like a spoiled child. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Taking in a breath, she nodded. “I want to be reunited with my mom,” she said quietly. “But I want you to be reunited with your parents, too. I trust you.”

  Wen smiled. “Good. You should.” He paused, growing serious again. “There’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know… the whole you-and-Corbin drama.”

  Morgan felt a blush rise to her cheeks. How could he know? Had Miss Scotford seen the two of them in the hallway the other day? “You know about that?”

  Wen rolled his eyes. “Give me a little credit. I mean, I was there when he kissed you in your driveway.”

  A relieved sigh escaped her lips. He didn’t know about the other day. “Oh—of course. I guess I just thought… I mean, I was worried that—”

  “What? That everyone can tell? No, I don’t think they can. Not for the moment. But I can’t promise someone won’t stumble across it during training at some point. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between you and him.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow at him. “And why are you so concerned?”

  “Because the Prophecy speaks of the One plus her four Naturals. I don’t want that kiss to cause some stupid teenage rift between you two that causes tension.” The look in Wen’s eyes was earnest. “You need him. You need them all.”

  Morgan gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. We don’t even know who the fourth is yet.”

  He shrugged. “We will. I’m not worried about that. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  Morgan shifted. “I trust Corbin. And I don’t think there’ll be any teenage rift between us—whatever that is.”

  Wen smiled. “Good.”

  Morgan smiled, too, hoping her words were the truth.

  Chapter Nine

  When Morgan awoke Saturday morning, she wasn’t sure whether or not she was glad it was the weekend. On one hand, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to give readings to peers and try to find the fourth Natural. On the other hand, she couldn’t be disappointed when the fourth didn’t materialize. She supposed the positives and negatives about it being the weekend were about even. She wasn’t sure how many days of readings she could endure without finding the fourth.

  When she emerged from her room, she found Dylan standing in the middle of the living room, staring at a wall. When Morgan approached, he turned and smiled. “Ah. Excellent timing. Come here, I need your opinion.”

  “Sure. What about?”

  When Dylan motioned to the wall he was staring at, Morgan’s stomach dropped. Two patches on the wall were no longer pale yellow. One was a soft green, the other a sky blue.

  He was really going to do it. He was really going to paint over the color Chelsea selected for the walls.

  Perhaps she would rather be doing readings at school.

  “Which color do you like better?” he asked, seemingly unaware of Morgan’s discomfort.

  “I, uh… I don’t know,” Morgan muttered.

  “I think I’m leaning toward the green,” Dylan said, cocking his head slowly from side to side.

  Morgan made a noncommittal noise.

  “Green it is, then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll head to the store to get the supplies we’ll need. You wanna come with?”

  “Not really.”

  The look on Dylan’s face told Morgan he wanted to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. Shaking his head slightly, he smiled. “I won’t be gone long, Then we can throw down some tarps and start painting.”

  There was something in the way he said it that told Morgan her participation was not up for discussion. Dutifully, she nodded. When Dylan headed out the front door, Morgan made her way to her room and sprawled out across her bed. Emotions swirled through her mind, cycling so quickly that she could barely focus on specific feelings. All the stress of the past week—previous month—came crashing down on her. She was supposed to train without really stretching her abilities. No one trusted her enough to let her search for her mother, but they all believed she was some great and powerful One who could change the world. She knew Orrick was just biding his time before making a move, and, despite what Mr. K and Miss Scotford kept saying, she wasn’t sure the Watchers were necessarily up to the task of protecting her. And, in addition to these feelings, now she had to deal with the uneasiness of the impending painting of the living room.

  Morgan’s mind was quickly becoming too confusing a place to be, so she pushed outward with all her might, deciding that experiencing the emotions of others might be a refuge from her own at the moment.

  Slowly, the energies of her neighbors came to her. The pale glow of the common people around her was refreshing after experiencing so many strong emotions of her own. But the dimness of emotions around her were punctuated sharply by more vivid feelings. She was aware of the tension and apprehension of the Watchers. Seven of them. There were seven Watchers in her neighborhood, to say nothing of the ones she was sure were keeping tabs on her from a distance.

  A swooping sensation filled her abdomen and she reeled her consciousness back in. This was reckless. Kellen told her there was a task force dedicated to detecting when she pushed outward with her abilities like that. Though Lucas had taught her to build a wall, she knew she wasn’t disciplined enough to keep it up all the time the way he did.

  She lay on her bed, practicing holding her wall in place, until Dylan came home. Morgan sensed rather than heard him getting out of his car, walking toward the door. She Felt his excitement and anxiety about the task at hand. Allowing herself one deep breath to steel her nerves, she pushed herself off the bed and headed into the living room.

  “Hey, hon,” Dylan said when he saw her. “There’s more stuff in the car.”

  Morgan nodded, understanding the request implicit in his words. There were several bags in the trunk of the car, and she grabbed as many as she could handle. By the time she made her way back into the house, Dylan was on his second trip to the car to pick up the remaining items.
r />   She surveyed the dining room, where they had deposited the supplies. There was a five-gallon bucket of paint surrounded by several bags filled with rollers, tarps, brushes, and pans. She sighed. This was really happening.

  She remembered the conversation she’d had with Joss, about how painting the walls wasn’t really a big issue. It was, after all, just paint. She tried to believe that.

  “So,” Dylan said, setting down the last of the supplies, “I think the first thing we need to do is move everything to the center of the room and cover it.”

  Morgan nodded and walked over to the love seat. “Want to start here?”

  As they began moving furniture, neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, Dylan broke the silence.

  “Kyle said he’d come over to help, but not till this afternoon. I’m sure you’ve got homework to do, but I’d appreciate the help till he gets here.”

  Morgan nodded. What did he think she was doing now? Was he afraid that as soon as they were done moving things, she’d leave? Really, if she’d intended on leaving and avoiding the painting process altogether, she’d be gone already.

  Once all the furniture was moved, they covered everything in plastic. For good measure, Dylan taped down the edges. They spread plastic on the floor along the walls and Dylan applied more tape. Then, he handed the tape to Morgan and instructed her to cover the baseboard so it wouldn’t accidentally be painted green. He pulled out a two-step stool and began covering the crown molding.

  They didn’t speak as they worked. Experimentally, Morgan pushed out with her mind to Feel Dylan’s mood. He seemed concerned. Focusing a little more, she realized his concern was centered around her. At first, she assumed it was related to the task at hand, but as she continued to concentrate, it became clear that his disquiet had more to do with Morgan herself—her distance from him in the last few weeks. He was worried about what her pulling away from him meant. He had a shadowy suspicion it had something to do with a boy, but he had no proof. Now he felt like he should have “the talk” with her about male-female relationships, something he’d been able to avoid up to this point because of Morgan’s date-free existence throughout middle- and high school. Mostly, though, he was afraid he was losing her: she was growing up. There would be college next year, and depending on where she decided to go, he may not see her much. She could slip away from him.

  A sense of shame filled Morgan. She knew she had been pulling away from Dylan since the incident at Desideration Tower, since Orrick claimed paternity over her. But she’d never realized what her actions were doing to Dylan.

  They finished up their respective taping jobs and Dylan opened up the bucket of paint. He pulled out a paint pan, a roller, a small red bucket with a handle, and a paintbrush. After pouring paint in the pan and small bucket, he handed the small bucket and the paintbrush to Morgan.

  “Could you paint along the baseboard and the crown molding? It’ll be difficult for me to get the roller there.”

  “Sure,” Morgan said. Then, glancing down at her clothes, she added, “Mind if I change first?”

  Dylan looked at his own attire. “Not a bad idea.”

  The two went to their rooms. Morgan spent a few minutes looking for something she wouldn’t mind getting paint on. By the time she made her way back to the living room, Dylan was already covering his roller with paint.

  Morgan took up her small bucket and sat down in front of the wall. She dipped the brush in the paint until she was sure the bristles were thoroughly saturated.

  She needed to talk to him, to ask the questions that had been twisting in her mind since the incident at Desideration Tower. She needed to know if there was any validity to Orrick’s assertion of her true parentage. Clearly, not asking these questions was only making things difficult on Dylan.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah, Morgan?”

  She took in a breath. “Mind if I ask you something?”

  “Ask away,” Dylan said.

  For a moment, she hesitated. She watched as he put the roller to the wall and began covering the yellow paint in great W’s of soft green. “It’s about Mom.”

  The roller paused in its rhythmic movements only briefly. “What about her, hon?”

  She opened her mouth but closed it again. For as much as she wanted to know whether Orrick’s claims held any validity, she panicked, fearing what she might learn. “Just, um…” she began after a moment, “tell me about how you two met. I mean, I know you’ve told me the story before, but I feel like I’m forgetting the details.”

  He sighed. Looking at Morgan, he smiled. “If I tell you, will you get started?”

  Morgan peered down at the small bucket and paint brush she held. “Oh. Yeah.” With a grin, she brought her brush to the wall and began painting along the baseboard. As she painted, she decided the inventor of blue painter’s tape was a genius, because there was no way she would be able to avoid painting the baseboard without it.

  “I had just moved to town for work. This was after I graduated from college. I didn’t really know anyone—except some buddies from work. They were nice guys, I guess, but pretty immature. Not that I was much better, but I was at least a little more level-headed.

  “So, one night, I’m out with the guys, and my buddy Sam was driving. Jon’s in the passenger seat, and I’m in the back. It’s late—probably after midnight. We’re at a red light, and just as it turns green, Jon decides to change the channel on the radio. Sam, who already started driving through the intersection, slams on the breaks so he can change the channel back.” He glanced at Morgan shaking his head. “So, of course, no sooner do we stop than we’re rear-ended. Well, Sam starts swearing and threatening to beat up whoever’s driving the other car. Since, like I said, I was the most level-headed one, I told Jon to keep Sam in the car and that I’d go handle it.

  “So, I get out, I check the damage—there wasn’t much, no one was going that fast. Then I go to talk to the driver of the other car. It was your uncle Wes. He was fine—mostly irritated. Since it was late, he and I exchanged phone numbers so we could sort things out later. He said he knew a guy who did body work. He was actually pretty cool about it, considering.

  “I didn’t give Sam Wes’s number, even though he wanted it. I said I’d take care of it because, well, Sam was a moron and I was afraid he’d do something stupid if he came face-to-face with Wes. Wes called me the next day and we set up a time for me to take Sam’s car to the body shop where his buddy worked. The job was gonna take a couple hours, and Wes just sat with me and we talked. We actually hit it off pretty well—so he invited me over for dinner. He was having a barbecue that night and some people were coming over.”

  Morgan, who had been steadily painting along the baseboards during the story, found herself at the corner of the wall. Reluctantly, she stood and grabbed the two-step ladder and started on the top of the wall along the crown molding.

  “When I got there, Wes was the only person I knew, but he was really good at introducing me to other people. I was having a real good time.” He paused in his story, paused in his painting, and smiled at the memory. “And then I saw her. Your mom. The party, I realized later, was not at Wes’s house, but at the house your mom and Ashleigh were sharing. When I caught sight of your mom…” He shook his head. “I knew I had to meet her. So, I went up and introduced myself.”

  “And the two of you fell in love, blah, blah, blah,” Morgan said.

  Dylan laughed, continuing to paint. “Not quite. She blew me off, actually.”

  Morgan stared at him. “Seriously?” This was news to her. She knew her parents had met at a party. She supposed she just assumed that meant that from then on they had been a couple.

  “Yeah. I mean, she was polite, but she was totally not interested.”

  “Why not? I mean… what happened? Clearly, she changed her mind.”

  Dylan nodded. “Well, Wes and I got to be good friends, so I ended up spending a lot of time with him and Ashleigh. Your mom woul
d be around sometimes, and she and I got to be friends. Then, one day, we became more than friends.”

  “But… what changed? I mean, why didn’t she just like you to begin with?”

  He shrugged. “Stress at school, maybe. And, even though she denied it, I think she was in another relationship when we met.”

  Morgan froze. “With who?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, she never came out and told me. This is just what I pieced together from overhearing conversations between Ashleigh and Wes, between Ashleigh and your mom. It’s no big deal. I mean, it’s not like your mom was the first woman I dated.”

  Morgan knew she probably shouldn’t push the subject, but she couldn’t help it. “What… Do you remember what his name was?”

  Dylan hummed thoughtfully. “Rich, maybe? Or maybe he just was rich. I don’t remember.”

  Rich, Morgan thought. Definitely not Orrick. But… aren’t Rich and Rick kind of interchangeable? And Rick is very close to Orrick. And if the boyfriend really was wealthy…

  Morgan wished she’d never brought the subject up. Instead of calming her misgivings about what Orrick had told her, hearing this story just confused her more. But she found now that she’d opened the door, she couldn’t close it again. “And… um… How long were you and Mom together before you got married?”

  Dylan paused as he replenished his roller with paint. “I know why you’re suddenly so interested in all this.”

  Morgan glanced at him, attempting to keep the surprise she felt out of her expression. “Oh, really?”