The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN)

by Fleur Camacho

  A door burst open and my dad came running in with a bat held aloft. The coldness in the air was immediately replaced with warmth from my dad; at the same time my body was released from its frozen form by the mirror. My dad looked ferociously about.

  “What’s wrong, Tristen?” he asked wildly. He still held the bat in the air and was searching for my unknown assailant.

  I fell to my feet and huddled into a ball. I shivered uncontrollably on the floor. My dad ran to my closed window and checked the yard for movement. A blanket covered me and my mom hovered over me with a worried look on her face. Since there was no attacker present, my dad kneeled down next to me and my mom sat exhaustedly on the bed.

  “Tristen,” he said as he put his hand on my forehead. Heat began to spread from his hand and traveled throughout my body; even my fingers and toes tingled. I looked up at him.

  “What happened, Tristen?” he asked.

  “A dream,” I responded.

  “A dream?”

  I nodded feebly. He looked up at my mom and their eyes connected.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I rested my head on my dad’s knees and closed my eyes. I nodded again.

  “Yes, I’m okay. It was just a bad dream…just a bad dream.”

  I began to drift off and my dad shifted.

  I grabbed his leg. “No.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Don’t go,” I pleaded. There was a pause.

  “Honey,” my mom started. “Why don’t you lie down in the bed? Dad will sit by you for a little bit.”

  “No,” I replied, my hand tightening on his leg. My dad reached up and brushed through my hair with his hand. The movement was calming and I drifted slowly into an abyss of darkness.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next morning, I awoke in my bed. I reached up to the small spot on my cheek where the skeletal hand had touched me; it felt cold and dead.

  I went to inspect it; I was almost afraid to look at the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes and I was paler than usual. I struggled to shrug off my nightmare, that thing with its empty eye sockets and sewn lips. I shook my head to clear the images.

  I thought of my dad and his warmth and smiled. There was a knock at my door and then my dad opened it.

  “Hi bud,” he said.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “How are you doing?”

  The images returned, briefly, and a shiver went through me.

  “Still a little creeped out,” I admitted.

  “What did you dream about?”

  “I don’t know. It was this freaky guy. It was like he was staring at me through the mirror.” I pointed toward it. “And he looked like he was made of stone. He reached out and touched me.” I felt the spot on my cheek. “Here, see.”

  He reached up and touched it.

  “Strange,” he said. He looked worried.

  I didn’t want to worry him. “I think I’m okay now. It was just a little weird.”

  He looked me over, assessing me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, not a hundred percent, but it was just a dream right?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Of course.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I shook my head. “Of course.”

  “Well, just tell me if you have any more dreams about him, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I jumped up and down to get my blood pumping and then headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day. Before I closed the door I could see my dad inspecting the mirror. I smiled at him to convince him that I was okay and tried to brush off the dream.

  It was just a dream. Nothing else.

  ❦

  Ailey, Brooks and I continued to meet in the library after school to work on our project. Sometimes we actually worked on our project but we mostly just talked. I became more comfortable around Ailey when Brooks told me stories about dates gone wrong. It also helped when she talked about when she was a kid.

  While I felt more comfortable around her, I had hoped that I would start to feel more normal in her presence. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. It grew stronger every time I was with her. So, I just ignored it, hoping it would go away eventually, because I wasn’t sure what to do about it anyway.

  Leaving the library after school one Friday I noticed Ailey’s cell phone in my bag. I must have thrown it in with my stuff while we were in the library. I ran to catch up with her, hoping she hadn’t left yet, but I couldn’t find her at her locker or outside. I looked up Ailey’s address on my phone and noticed that she wasn’t too far out of my way home. I considered just taking the phone to her.

  Why not? She would probably want it back. So I headed toward my bike and called my mom, letting her know I was going to be late.

  I wondered what Ailey’s house would be like. The closer I pedaled to her house, the smaller I began to feel. It was an old house like mine, but an officially historic home that was fully restored. The front yard had a colorful garden with a fountain flowing throughout the lawn. I followed the steps to the impressive circular drive lined with neatly manicured shrubs and flowers. I could see the back garden backed up to the ocean cliff, sitting proudly as it looked over the sea.

  This is not a house, it’s a mansion!

  I knocked on the door and immediately a woman opened it as if she had been waiting for me. She wore a yellow blouse with the long sleeves rolled up and a long red skirt with an ocean blue apron. She held a pitcher in one hand as she hovered in the doorway.

  “Can I help you? ” she asked.

  “I… I have Ailey's phone, ” I said, reaching for it inside my backpack.

  The crease in her forehead grew deeper and, when I finally retrieved the phone from the mess in my bag, she politely told me that Ailey was not here and that I could leave the phone with her.

  She held her hand out. I hesitated to give it to her; I did not know her and wasn’t a hundred percent sure that the address I had was right. As I hesitated in the doorway, torn between handing over the phone and telling her I would drop it off later, I heard Ailey’s voice above me.

  “Gry, who was that? What did they want?”

  Gry looked at me and blushed, embarrassed that she had been caught…lying?

  “Umm, it’s… Tristen. He says he’s from your school. You forgot your phone.” She paused, eyeing me. “He’s still here,” she added, clueing Ailey in.

  I heard nothing from above.

  Why didn’t I just wait until I saw her again?

  Finally, I heard movement on the stairs and Gry curtsied politely as Ailey came to the door, followed by a cute black poodle at her heels. The pull she had on me was even stronger here in her home.

  “Hey Tristen. Thanks for bringing my phone. I was wondering where that was.”

  I handed it over to her. She still stood in the doorway, politely smiling.

  “Ok, see you on Sunday?” she said.

  Oh, okay.

  I took that as my cue to leave. I felt a wave of disappointment. “Sure. Okay – see you then.”

  As I turned to go, I saw a black antique Rolls-Royce pull up the circular driveway. Ailey hesitated, looked behind me toward the car, and then looked back at me.

  “Stay here,” she commanded.

  A middle-aged man stepped out of the car from the driver-side and met Ailey at the passenger-side where he opened the door. An older man slowly got out and stood up. He smiled tenderly when he looked at Ailey and kissed her forehead. As they walked toward the house together, I noticed that he walked with a limp; he had a brace on his leg and used a cane to assist his right foot as it dragged across the walkway toward the front door. Ailey walked beside him, hovering over him protectively. I felt like an intruder and so I tried to melt into the back of the door, hoping that I could quietly leave after they passed.

  They spoke to each other softly. I could hear the man slur his words as he responded to her questions. Ailey smiled happily and you could see the love radiate from her eyes as she ta
lked to him. She asked how his therapy had been and she laughed when he told her about a nurse who was flirting with him.

  This must be her dad.

  As the man approached the door, I took a step back, hoping he would pass me unnoticed, but my foot hit a table's edge, sending a black vase at its center teetering back and forth.

  Man, I am so clumsy! I managed to steady it, and when I turned back around, I found myself facing his piercing blue eyes. He stopped in his path, a little off balance. Both Ailey and I reached a hand out to steady him.

  “S’kay, s’kay.” He waved us off.

  “Ai-lee, y-you didn’t tell me you had a friend oh-ver.” The slur was strong, and I struggled to understand what he said.

  “Oh, dad, he was just leaving. He just dropped off my phone that I left at school, but we’re done now.” She looked at me meaningfully.

  “Well, I’m sh-ure he’d love to stayee for din-ner.” He looked at me expectantly.

  I didn’t know what to do. After what felt like forever, with both of them staring at me, I put my hand out.

  “My name is Tristen, sir.”

  “Glad to ave ya. ‘M Ailey’s pop. Come en and eat.”

  I looked pleadingly at Ailey, trying to figure out what to do. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Come on in, Tristen. The dining room is over here. I was just coming down to eat.”

  “Um…” I hesitated, then gave in. “Okay, let me call my mom.” I wondered if I could ever say no to her.

  I slowly trailed behind them as she helped her father down in his chair. He looked at me and held his hand out, indicating where I was to sit. Gry added a plate and began serving dinner.

  “Mmm. Smells delicious.”

  Ailey’s father was easy to talk to and was very interested in what I had to say. He acted as if he had no slur and eventually I didn’t even hear it. He asked me questions about myself, my family, and how I knew Ailey, keeping the conversation flowing easily and light with jokes.

  After dinner, Ailey walked with me to the garden through the back door. I could smell the salty ocean nearby. There were some steps that had been carved into the cliff that led to the sand below but there was a short garden wall that blocked off the rest of the access to the cliff and the drop below us. We sat next to each other on the wall and looked out over the ocean.

  “So, that’s my dad. He’s great.” She smiled ruefully. “Sorry about earlier. We don’t invite people over often. We tend to keep things…” she struggled to find the right word. “Private. We don’t really invite anyone over very often.”

  I looked at her, a question on my lips.

  “I mean about his sickness.”

  I shook my head. I had no idea what she meant.

  “I know this might not make sense to you,” she continued. “My dad is in part owner of several companies and so we want his stockholders to believe that he is strong and still in control. He has his good and bad days but we always want them to believe that he is still the leader he's always been.”

  Again, she hesitated. I waited for her to finish. “And the main reason is… well, just because. In a lot of ways we have a great life. I’ve had a lot of pain in the past…”

  She paused and I figured she was referring to the loss of her mother when she was young.

  “But now I love my life, and my dad is an amazing example to me. Despite all the things he has to deal with he always finds time for me. He is always concerned with my school, my grades.” She paused again and rolled her eyes. “And anything that concerns me. I am so…lucky to have such a great dad.”

  “Okay…” was all I could think of to say.

  “And with his disease, sometimes the pain is so intense, he suffers so much… It is just so…well, so sad. I can’t bear to share that pain with anyone. Except Brooks, of course,” she added. “And it just makes it worse when I have someone over and he has to put forth the effort to entertain them, which he loves to do, but then later on he is in much more pain for the effort. So I just quit having friends over.”

  I swallowed hard, feeling guilty now for staying. “What does he have?”

  “Multiple Sclerosis,” she said simply. She sat down on the garden wall, pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. It was late in the evening now and the brilliant colors of the setting sun blazed across the western horizon. She gazed out over the ocean, feeling the breeze as it tumbled her hair around her face. Once more, I was drawn to her; I could practically feel the magnetizing energy between us.

  I sighed, weary of fighting the gravitational effect she had on me. I sat down next to her in silence, listening to the seagulls call to each other, and waited. Her mood shifted, I could feel it changing from musing into one of sorrow and pain.

  “When I was six, we had a ranch with some sheep and horses. I didn’t really understand MS then; I was too interested in my dolls and my puppy. So one day Midnight, the poodle you saw at the house, ran off and I tried to catch him. After a while I’d forgotten that I was looking for him and became distracted playing outside. It began to get really late and I heard my dad calling for me. I figured I was probably in trouble, so I hid behind a tree.” She stopped. She looked thoughtfully into my eyes. “I’ll never forget what happened that day.”

  Then she looked down at her hands. “My dad was out looking for me, worried that something had happened to me. Midnight was by his side. He had already come back to the house. Stupid me, I was just out playing! As he searched for me, calling out my name, I got scared. Scared because I knew I was in trouble, but scared also because I heard fear in his voice. So I hid. And from within the tall grass I saw him tumble and fall. I’d never noticed him do that before. At first, I was embarrassed for him. I wondered why he kept falling. But he just kept looking for me, breathlessly calling my name. As he fell, over and over, it hit me; I realized that it was because of his disease. I wanted to call out to him and tell him where I was, but I couldn’t speak; I was frozen to the spot. Sometimes he would cry out when he fell, his feet all jumbled, and other times he would just lay there panting with his face in the dirt. But every time, he would look up to the trees and pull himself up with his cane, determined to find me.”

  She looked up at me with pain deep in her eyes. She blinked, her eyes heavy with tears, and she quickly wiped at them. “I felt awful. Eventually I began to cry. When he came to me, all he did was hold me in his arms until I grew quiet. Then he even carried me home! He had to lean on trees when he needed the extra support.”

  She grew thoughtful. “I can still remember the way he smelled of sweat and grass and dirt from the ground where he had fallen. It was then that I knew how much my dad loved me. From then on, I decided to be better and to always be mindful of his needs.”

  She stopped then, closed her eyes, and inhaled the salty cool breeze coming off the ocean. There was no need for words. I shyly linked my arm in hers—my fingers buzzed as they touched her smooth skin—and we sat quietly in the dark until eventually I left to go home.

  ❦

  When I got home, I sat on the front porch in my favorite rocking chair and thought about Ailey. The crickets were showing off tonight, chirping loudly, trying to find their mate.

  My dad stepped out from behind my chair, making me jump.

  He laughed. “Man! What are you thinking about? You didn’t even hear me?”

  “Yea, ha ha, so funny,” I grumbled. “Goofball,” I said, lightly punching his shoulder.

  He sat down in the rocking chair next to me, a drink in hand, and looked out into the night.

  “Mom seems better,” he said.

  I nodded happily. “Yep, she does,” I agreed. “Of course, it’s because of you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s because you believe in her. You always have, you’ve always said that she would pull through. I can tell that she trusts you. So if you tell her that she’s going to pull through these rounds of chemo, then she will.” I grinned at him. “It’s a good thing we
’ve got you around.”

  “Shut up,” he said and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a sentimentalist.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed and punched him harder, spilling his drink.

  “Come on, now,” he gasped and rubbed his shoulder where I’d hit him.

  “What?” I said, trying to look innocent.

  He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to speak.

  “Okay, fine. I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not talking about that. I was just wondering what you were thinking about. You really didn’t hear me?”

  “Nope. Maybe you’re just sneakier in your old age.”

  “Yep, that too.” He smiled, sipping his coke.

  “Is Mom asleep?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said softly, then he looked back at me, still waiting.

  “Oh, all right. I was just thinking about Ailey.”

  “Ailey.” He frowned.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You seem to really like her.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just that sometimes I feel like she’s so familiar to me. Like I’ve known her before, though I haven’t. I mean, I’ve seen her around, but never really gotten to know her. But every time I’m around her, I can’t help but feel a strong tie to her. I don’t know why. But she’s just…” I paused. I didn’t know what she was.

  “Taken,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Taken. She’s taken. She’s going out with Brooks, right?”

  “Well, it’s not like they’re married, right? Besides, it’s not like that.” I stopped, not knowing how to explain. “I don’t know. She’s just a girl. A girl that I can talk to. And I haven’t spilled anything on her… Yet.”

  My dad sighed.

  “Besides, she’s really nice.”

  “There are lots of ‘nice’ girls at your school and you haven’t even given them a chance. You know, to get spilled on.” He smiled at his own joke.

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

  “I don’t know, Dad, I just feel that there’s something about her. I don’t know what it is. I just think that we have a connection, that’s all.”