Descendant

by Giles, Nichole

  Mr. Akers opens one eye and peers at Kye. “I see.” Kye nods and Mr. Akers closes his eye again and finishes the warm up session—apparently needing no further explanation. My intuition spikes and I’m curious. There was something in the look they exchanged, but as hard as I try, I can’t figure out what.

  I try to see into Kye’s energy field, but I can’t. For some reason that has nothing to do with the stage lights, I can’t see Kye’s aura at all.

  While the rest of us pair up to work on a characterization assignment, Kye joins Mr. Akers in the small office located on one side of the stage. Through the glass door, I can tell Kye is excited. He talks with his whole body, not just his hands. Mr. Akers looks concerned at first, but then a proud smile spreads across his face.

  I wonder about their relationship. Obviously, they’re more to each other than teacher and student. It wouldn’t be unheard of for them to be related, especially in a town with more snowplows than people.

  My partner, Crystal, looks at her watch, clearly annoyed. “You want some advice, new girl? Stay away from Kye. Guys like him think the world—and everyone in it—revolves around them. I’m out of here.” She grabs her bag and walks away.

  I’m left speechless in our corner of the stage—with five minutes left before the bell.

  “Don’t let her get to you. Crystal often has bratty tendencies.”

  I turn around and find myself face to face with the boy from the snowball fight. Dark brown hair falls in pieces over his forehead and cheeks and he shakes it back, revealing hazel eyes and the perfect teeth I noticed earlier. “But don’t tell her I said that or she’ll come after me.”

  My irritation from the morning’s confrontation flickers and dies. I return his smile. “I’m Abby.”

  “Eric.” He closes my hand in both of his. “Welcome to Jackson High.”

  “Thanks.” I drop my papers in my bag as the bell rings.

  Mr. Akers pokes his head out the office door. “You’re free to go. See you all tomorrow.”

  “Where’s your next class?” Eric asks.

  I glance at my schedule, unsuccessfully trying to avoid a last look at Kye. He’s sitting on the edge of Mr. Akers’s desk, looking amused. I shake my head and look at the paper for real this time. “Um, history, room 107.”

  “Wicked. You’re in my class.” Eric picks up his binder. “I’ll show you the way.”

  FOUR

  Memories and Plans

  Even though I dread Rose’s promised questions, I accept the invitation to sit with her and Jen at lunch, because not sitting alone is eighty percent of the first-day battle. The conversation centers on an upcoming trip they’re planning. I only partly listen, picking the pepperoni off my pizza and stealing discreet glances around the cafeteria. I’m not really looking for Kye. Okay, I am, but I don’t want to admit it—even to myself. Something about him draws me like a paperclip to a magnet, and I haven’t even officially met him.

  “Abby, are you in there?” Rose waves a hand in front of my face.

  “Sorry.”

  “So, are you coming with us?” Rose struggles with the lid on her milk chug then hands the bottle to Jen, who opens it with a faint pop. When she hands Rose the plastic lid, it looks a bit warped, like it sat too close to the heat vent.

  “Where?”

  “On our trip to the Park.”

  “What, like a picnic? It’s freezing out.”

  Rose laughs and rests a hand on my shoulder. “The Park. As in, Yellowstone National Park. Geysers and mud pots are the most fun.”

  “Oh.” I sip my drink. “When are you going?”

  “Spring break. Jen’s uncle is getting us a killer deal on rooms at Old Faithful Lodge. They’re not always open by then, but I talked to the owners. No one ever tells me no.”

  “Originally,” Jen says, “we planned the trip for Rose’s birthday, but it turned into such a big deal, the principal arranged for chaperones and buses. I guess he decided it’s better to get involved than leave the junior and senior classes at a lodge, overnight, without adult supervision.”

  “You’re spending the night?”

  Jen leans forward. “Hence the chaperones. Isn’t it wicked? Half the school will be there for Rose’s eighteenth.” Jen grins at Rose. “We’re going to rock that park.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Rose strums an imaginary guitar. “Hey, if your parents will let you come, you can room with Jen and me. We have a suite so there’s plenty of space.”

  “We’ll see,” I say. It’s hard to imagine going on an overnight trip with people I just met. Plus, my mom will never go for it. Not after what happened with Gram.

  Conversation swirls around me, but my eyes are drawn to the far corner of the cafeteria where two people are arguing. Kye and that girl from drama—Crystal. The energy around them sparkles with rainbow-colored darts.

  Mostly, Crystal rants while Kye stands there. Every so often, the muscle in his jaw tenses, but though I can see his mouth moving, he never yells back, even when Crystal slaps him and the sound echoes in the cafeteria.

  There is a chorus of cheers and guffaws as Crystal storms out and Kye follows, ignoring the catcalls from other students and questions from a concerned cafeteria monitor.

  “Here we go again,” Rose mutters, shoving half a roll in her mouth.

  “You’d think he’d learn by now.” Jen returns to her party planning, but I’m no longer listening. I’m remembering the one and only time I ever saw Gram lose control. She slapped my father during an argument in the living room of a house we rented in Utah. I was six-years old, crouched behind the sofa, eavesdropping, when I should have been in bed. Gram was telling my dad he shouldn’t go, but he insisted that he had to, that there were evil things happening which he couldn’t ignore.

  Later that night, he came to my room while I pretended to sleep. He brushed the hair off my forehead and kissed my cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, and I opened my eyes to watch him leave. It was the last time I ever saw him. That’s when I learned to fear my Gifts, why I resisted learning to use them until it was too late, why I couldn’t save Gram.

  Remembering makes my stomach ache, steals my appetite.

  “Hey.” Eric’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Just thinking.”

  “You’re not sick or anything?” He points at the pizza on my plate. “Pepperoni poisoning?”

  “No, I’m not sick. I’m fine, really.” My eyes sting.

  “You look sorta pale.”

  I gulp the rest of my drink, trying to cool the cold burn in my throat. “New school nerves catching up to me, I guess.”

  Eric eyes me over his burger. “You seemed fine earlier.”

  “Long day.” My lunch tray is still full, but the need to escape is now priority. I dump my food in the nearest trash can and bolt through the outside door. Salt crunches under my boots as my feet take me around the school toward the parking lot. The weak afternoon sun has melted the ice, leaving puddles on the sidewalk.

  I take a calming breath and stare at the snow-covered mountains. The frosty air fills my lungs and, bit by bit, I regain my balance.

  The loss of my father is far enough in the past that a layer of scar tissue has formed over the wound. Only weeks have passed since Gram’s death, and her loss is still an open sore. My heart aches, missing her.

  Gram always knew my feelings before I did, and when I hurt, for whatever reason, she always knew what to say to make me feel better. I miss the comfort of having her put her arms around me and tell me everything will work out for the best, the way she did when I was twelve and first showed signs of being a Healer.

  I had found the body of a newborn puppy in a Dumpster and picked her up, planning to bury her, but instead brought her back to life. Mom let me keep her, and we named her Erda, after the Norse goddess of fate.

  When I was fourteen and had my first vision—about a blue-eyed boy who was always being chased by men with otherworldly abilities—G
ram made me oatmeal raisin cookies and informed me that having two Gifts is exceptionally rare. She made me believe that even among Gifted people, I am unique. Special.

  But Gram’s gone. And it’s my fault.

  “Hey, I wondered where you went,” Rose calls from down the sidewalk.

  I force a smile as she approaches, but keep staring at the mountains. “I needed some air.”

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” She stares too.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like them. Mysterious. Like a fairy tale.”

  “I know what you mean.” Rose’s voice takes on a more serious edge. “If you’re looking for a fairy tale, good or bad, you’ve come to the right place.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m trying to act more interested than I am, even though I just want to be left alone.

  “We have a bunch of local legends,” she says. “Fantastical creatures, lots of adventure ... you should read about them sometime.”

  My interest piques, despite my desire to be alone. “Maybe I will,” I say. “Everyone loves a nice fairy tale every now and then.”

  “Yeah.” Rose frowns, stares at the mountains again. “As long as there’s a happy ending involved.”

  FIVE

  Don’t Panic

  I don’t see Kye much for the next few weeks. I’ve never even talked to the guy and my stomach ties in knots at the simple thought of his ocean-blue eyes. It makes no sense. But then, very little in my life actually makes sense these days.

  I know he comes to school—just not to drama class. We pass each other in the hall occasionally, and I feel his presence like a palpable thing. He ignores me, so I return the favor, bothered by the fact that he feels so familiar and I can’t figure out why.

  Eating lunch with Rose and Jen becomes a daily habit. Rose’s cheerful yellow aura mixes with Jen’s purplish-blue to form a calming deep green. It’s no wonder they’re friends—they bring each other balance. Interesting things happen when they’re around, and I look forward to Rose’s nonstop chatter. The two of them are relentless when discussing their plans for the trip. They insist I come, and work devilishly to talk me into it.

  Then there’s Eric, who is relentless in a different way.

  “I’ll bet you a dollar I can make you fall in love with me by the end of the month.” He says when he catches up with me after drama and walks with me to history.

  “Is that all my love is worth?” I lick my lips, wondering what makes the air in Jackson taste metallic and why I shiver every time Eric is around.

  “Fine then, twenty dollars.”

  I dig through my bag, looking for gum, and ignore the instinct to jump away when Eric’s cool arm brushes mine. “It doesn’t seem fair to take money I’ve done nothing to earn.” I back up, putting distance between us on the premise of offering him a piece of gum. “But I’ve never been a girl to pass up easy money, either.”

  “Oh, you’ll earn it. Anyway, I have no intention of letting you win. I’m going to start by escorting you to the party this weekend.”

  My memory flashes to an intense gaze shared across a stage. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel like going out with Eric is cheating? “Party?” I ask.

  “Uh, yeah. Well, it isn’t officially hosted by the school, technically. It’s in Yellowstone.”

  Oh no, not him too. “Did Rose put you up to this?”

  He looks confused. “What?”

  “Never mind.” I sigh. It’s not fair for me to pretend I like him. “Look, I was joking. I can’t go out with you, and I’m not letting you make all kinds of effort just to win a bet. Besides, I’m not going to Yellowstone.”

  His shoulders slump. “You have so little faith in my abilities. It’s discouraging.”

  I stop in front of my locker and dial the combination. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not into the whole teenagers falling in love thing. Even if I was, I never stay put long enough for it to happen. I’m a waste of your time.”

  Eric leans on the locker next to mine, his head cocked to the side. “How long have we known each other?”

  “Three weeks.” I retrieve my history book and slam the locker shut.

  “Three weeks,” he repeats, steering me in the direction of our classroom. “And I’ve seen you spend time with two people. Rose and Jen. Do you not know how many guys in this school are dying to ask you out?”

  Obviously not Kye. I snort. Stupid that I even care. “You’re such a liar. You’re the only guy who’s actually spoken more than one sentence to me since I moved here. I might as well be invisible.”

  Now it’s his turn to snort. “Abby! You’re anything but invisible.”

  “Whatever. It’s not like I fit in.” I stop to sip from the water fountain, hoping it’ll ease the almost constant dry burn in my throat.

  “The problem is that you’re so quiet you seem almost standoffish, untouchable. I thought you were a snob at first. Do you realize I tried to talk to you three times before you actually responded?”

  “You did not.”

  “Yeah, Abby, I did. But you were busy observing ... other people.”

  Have I really stared that much? Crap. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I turn to him, my heart beating a little harder. The idea of upsetting Eric makes me shiver harder. “It’s not like ... I didn’t mean ...”

  “It’s okay, Abby.” He rests his hand on my arm. “I know you aren’t a snob. You’re a little on the shy side, a lot on the nervous side.” He moves closer. “Completely defensive and absolutely as untouchable as everyone thinks.”

  I shrug away from him again. “I am not. Stop saying that.”

  “Honey, look—”

  “Don’t call me honey, Eric.” The burn in my throat moves into my eyes and sinuses. “I’m not your honey. And I don’t want to be your girlfriend, either.”

  “See.” His body blocks my way into class. “That’s exactly what I mean. You want to be left alone, and you make sure everyone within a hundred miles knows it.”

  “So?”

  “So, nothing. I want to know why. You’re not the cold person you want people to think you are. What would be so bad about going with me to a party? I’m not going to attack you or anything.” I turn away, my stomach churning with an unwelcome yet familiar sensation. Before I take a step, he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, and his cool breath is in my ear. “At least, not yet.”

  He’s joking and I know it, but my heart hammers. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to touch me. My throat burns like it’s coated with hot metal and I’m overcome with an ancient, primal terror I know I’ve felt before, though I have no idea when. I can’t see Eric’s face since he’s behind me, but I See him. In another place and time. A rakish grin slashes his features, and his hair is at least two inches longer.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I try to shove the vision away, but only manage to trigger my more recent memory of Gram as she lay on the floor, bleeding. Dying. The blood drains from my face. Pain spasms in my chest. There isn’t enough air in the building.

  Memories flash like strobe lights.

  My father kisses me goodbye.

  A pair of amber eyes stares from the back of a dark theater.

  I run up the stairs to find Gram lying on the floor, taking her last breaths.

  Violet eyes, watching, waiting, ready to strike.

  A circle of Healing power breaking into a million tiny pieces and scattering around the kitchen.

  Eric’s touch feels very, very wrong.

  “Hey.” Eric spins me around to face him. “Abby? Are you okay?”

  I wheeze in and out. In. Out. Close my eyes. Concentrate on getting oxygen to my brain.

  “Abby? Talk to me. Please. What did I say?”

  I open my eyes. The room moves in circles and black spots float in the air. The breathing thing isn’t going to work. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor. Eric says my name over and over again. I ignore him.

  Someone else says, “Let’s get her
to the nurse.”

  I push away the hands on my shoulders. “I think ... I need—”

  “What, Abby? What do you need?” Eric asks.

  I want to fight him, push him away. Hurt him. I don’t know why. “I need to find the boy.” I mumble. Then the world goes black.

  SIX

  Railroaded

  I wake up in the nurse’s office, where she explains that I’ve had a panic attack and my mother is coming to take me home. Someday I hope I’m able to laugh about the sheer mortification I’m experiencing, but that day is not today.

  Eric is in the office with us, which makes me angry. I don’t want him here. The nurse must sense this because she kicks him out, sending him to class. As he leaves, I can hear him telling someone, or everyone, that I fainted.

  Mom takes me home, and after a minor amount of fussing and a short lecture about me and stress and what could be the cause of the problem, she leaves me alone and finally goes back to work. I change into lounge pants and a T-shirt and curl up on the sofa to watch TV with Erda.

  My vision blurs beneath my heavy eyelids. In a minute, I’ll go take a tincture of willow bark for the headache that’s been building in my forehead all day. Right now, I can’t move, can’t feel my arms or legs or anything but the pounding in my head as I watch the vision unfold, like a movie on a screen.

  A small woman with blue-green eyes smoothes her hair and straightens her skirt before gliding down the stairs to rejoin her son’s wedding party. As she descends, she catches the eye of the captain of her Warrior Guards and murmurs his name, “Rhys.” His eyebrows rise in appreciation.