"Oh." Annie unplugged her sewing machine. She seemed tired all of a sudden. "Well, how can I help?"
"I'm supposed to write a paper on Hawaiian legends, and James said he had some old books in here on the subject."
"Yep, he does." Annie held her plaid material, which Pilot now realized was a skirt, up underneath a white tee with a navy blue pin-striped jacket hanging from a mannequin in the center of the room.
"I didn't realize you sewed. What are you sewing?" Pilot felt a pang of guilt when he tried to come up with what he did know about Annie. She lived in their house and was always running them around, yet he had never asked her anything about her personal life.
"I'm designing a skirt for fun. I was thinking of putting some outfits together for Brie, but her style is too conservative for my colorful designs."
Pilot chuckled. He tried to imagine Brie wearing the multi-patterned plaid skirt Annie was holding up, but he couldn't. The outfit went much better with Annie's petite frame and short, spiky hair.
"Where is Brie anyway?" Pilot asked.
"There's a football game tonight, and she had cheerleading practice between school and the game."
Pilot stretched his hands over his head, trying to work out the soreness in his back. "The cheerleaders don't practice before games."
Annie adjusted the cuffs on the pinstripe jacket. "I don't know where your sister is then. I don't know what to do with her any more than you do, and your dad—" Annie looked down, pressing her lips together.
"It's okay." Pilot felt sorry for Annie, that she didn't feel she could speak her mind about James.
"Anyone can see he's neglectful. I won't say anything to him."
Annie bit her lip. "I wish you and Brie would give him another chance. He can't help the way he is, I don't think."
"Everyone can help the way they are. Unfortunately, my dad ran out of chances a long time ago."
Annie bit her lip again; Pilot guessed she was trying not to speak her mind with him. He wished she would be honest.
He stared at her until her face relaxed. "Can I ask you something personal?"
She looked up from her mannequin. "Sure."
"Why do you work here? Brie's sneaking around, I'm flunking school, and my dad is oblivious to everyone. We're such a mess. And it seems like you could design more clothes somewhere else, where you didn't have to take care of the three of us."
Annie looked surprised. "I started working for James after college. It was a bad job market, and I had already spent a year living on borrowed funds and trying to break into the fashion industry. Your father gave me a job when no one else would."
"So you feel like you owe him?"
"Not really. I like it here, and James is a good employer. I have a place to live and I can save most of my paycheck for my first fashion line. I already style some of James' wardrobe and maybe someday he'll let me design for him. Fashion is about connections and there are plenty of opportunities when I'm working for James."
Pilot raised his eyebrows. "So you don't have any... history with him?"
"Pilot!" Annie tilted her head, her eyes chastising him. "No. James is my employer."
"Sorry," Pilot said, shrugging. "I'm not trying to offend you. I just... I hate this family sometimes. If I could leave, I probably would. But here you are, able to leave at any time, and you don't."
Annie gave him a pitying look. She took a seat on the couch. "Sit down," she said. Pilot took a seat in the chair across from Annie. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his palms.
"You know what I see when I look at this family?" she asked. "I see people who love each other but don't know how to express it."
"My mom always made us talk to each other. She was our glue." Pilot crossed his leg over his knee.
"When Brie and I were young, this modeling agency landed us a gig as the faces of this edgy kids shoe line. They put us in gothic makeup and put fake coloring in our hair. There was this huge guitar and we were surfing the strings in the shoes." He laughed, and Annie smiled. "It was such a bizarre set—Brie was so freaked out, she clung to me during the entire shoot." Pilot uncrossed his leg, crossing his ankles instead. "We were a lot closer before, when my mom was still alive—but now she's so closed off and secretive. I wish my mom was here to force her to talk to me."
Annie tapped her fingers against her jaw. "Your mom was a linchpin, but she's gone now. Your family needs a new linchpin. And to be honest, I kind of thought you were stepping into that role."
Pilot looked up. "I want to. But it's hard enough to hold myself together, much less other people."
Annie smiled. "How about this—you do whatever it takes to hold yourself together, and I'll help you out with the other two."
A wave of relief washed over Pilot's shoulders and back. "So now I have to do this research paper, right?"
Annie laughed. "Uh, yeah. The books are over there." Annie pointed to a section of the shelves.
"When James first moved here, he went through this phase where he wanted to learn the native culture. He made me pick up every book about local history I saw. If you need help, you can ask me. I grew up on these islands."
Pilot stepped over to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over the books. One in particular stood out to him, so he pulled it from the shelf. Hawaiian Myths and Legends. The tattered book was heavy and thick, and the cover was missing several inlaid jewels.
"Where did you find this one?" he asked.
Annie came up behind him. "Let me see that," she said. She held the book gingerly in her small hands, running her fingers over the crevices in the cover. "Hmm. I've never seen it before." She opened the book and checked the inside. "No library pocket."
"How did it get here then?"
"No idea. Maybe James brought it home from one of his trips." Annie shrugged.
"It looks like it's going to fall apart. I wonder if it is valuable." Pilot ran his fingers along the edges of the yellow-tipped pages. He was surprised they didn't crumble under his touch. He flipped through the book slowly, taking in several of the titles. The Pele Sisters. The Legends of Kana. The Story of Moho-Lani. It looked like a comprehensive guide to every Hawaiian legend ever written.
"If it was a collector's item," Annie said, "James would have told me. It's probably from a used book store."
Pilot sat down again, confused. Annie cared about anything and everything that entered this house.
Why was she being so flippant about this?
He felt chills down his spine as he ran his finger over the center of the cover, a deep crevice where an enormous jewel had once laid. Something about the worn, broken-in softness of the leather and the uneven tears at the page edges gave Pilot the impression that this book was much older than either of them were willing to admit.
*****
As Clara promised, Brie had been able to pull off all their cheers without a single hiccup, even though it was uncomfortable at first. Now that the ordeal was over, Brie hung back from the crowd of jocks and cheerleaders celebrating their victory over Iolani that night. She spooned a bite of strawberries and mochi balls into her mouth. The Korean lady who ran the Tropicana stand was nice, and the shaved ice was delicious. But Brie wasn't used to hanging out with so many people her own age. She still didn't know the names of most of the girls on her squad and felt weird introducing herself to people who already knew who she was.
"Can I ask you something?" Brie whispered to Cora, who was leaning against the side of the stand next to her. "If the Hallows are supposed to be fighting for the souls of earthlies, why are the three of you hanging out at a private high school on this little island?"
Cora twisted her mouth to one side and squinted. "It's a long story."
"I have time," Brie said.
"But now is not the place."
There was no one standing close to them, but Brie still felt like the crowd was pressing in on them, suffocating her, blocking her ability to get answers. "Give me a synopsis then."
> Cora looked around. "Well," she whispered, "you're not the only one who thinks Honolulu is a good place to go when you need everyone to forget about you. You came here to escape the watchful eyes of the media; we came here to escape the watchful eyes of our government."
Brie wasn't sure what to say to that. Her phone vibrated in her purse, but she didn't have to pull it out to know who it was. Pilot was the only person who had her new number besides Adele, and Adele always called, never texted. Brie felt a pang of guilt; she hadn't had a real conversation with Pilot since the night James came back from LA.
She let the text go unanswered. "What if you're wrong about Pilot?" Brie asked Cora. "What if Pilot has powers too? Maybe they haven't developed yet."
"Keep your voice down." Clara came up beside them, scowling at Brie.
Thessa was right behind her. "Brie," she whispered, pushing Brie toward the parking lot behind the shaved ice stand. "It's improbable that even you have powers without two Hallow parents. If both of you had powers, it would be a miracle."
"A disaster, really." Clara mumbled, picking at her fingernails. It was much quieter behind the building, but the soft clicking of nail-on-nail grated on Brie's nerves. Still, this was a much better place to talk. Brie could barely hear the throng of sweaty, hormonal teenagers on the other side of the building.
"Plus, Hallow children show their powers at fifteen," Thessa said. "And Pilot is sixteen already."
Brie replied, "Maybe he's a late bloomer."
"He's not," Clara said matter-of-factly, filing the tips of her nails against her cheerleading skirt. "He's an earthlie."
Clara's words shut Brie up. She seemed so confident, and if Clara was a human computer, Brie doubted she would make a mistake about this.
Cora pursed her lips together in a half-smile. "Give me your necklace," she said. "I promised you could learn some basics tonight, so let's practice a little."
"Here?" Clara asked.
"It's dark," Cora replied. "Plus my powers aren't physical. No one will even know what's going on."
Clara looked at Thessa, who nodded to Cora. "Let's see what happens," she said with a concentrated look on her face.
Brie handed Cora her necklace and Cora backed away from Brie. "You may have guessed what my gift is.
My gift is similar to Clara's, except I don't deal in knowledge, I deal in emotion." She held out her hands. "I'm going to send a wave of emotions toward you, and I want you to try to block it."
Brie panicked. "How do I block it?"
"It comes from within," Clara said. "If you have to ask you'll never know."
Cora gave Clara a pointed look. "Try holding up your hands in a blocking position," she said to Brie.
"And think the word stassi," Thessa added. "That always works for me."
Brie put her hands in the air, feeling like an idiot. She could sense Clara's eyes raking her, waiting for her to fail.
The wave hit. Brie's feelings quickly changed to guilt, fear, and sadness, as if her mother had died all over again.
Brie wrapped her arms around herself and slunk to the ground, lifting her knees to her chest.
But the wave kept coming. Her thoughts drifted to the funeral, surrounded by the strong scent of hibiscus, her mother's favorite flower. Then she was shopping with Adele. She received a phone call that her mother's plane had crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. She was fighting with her mother over whether she could take guitar lessons. She shrieked her last, angry words to her mom right before everything went black.
Brie woke up to Cora and Thessa shaking her limp body. "You fainted," Thessa said.
Brie sat up woozily, glaring at Cora. "Why would you do that?" she asked. "Why couldn't you send a happy wave of emotion?"
Clara hovered over Brie's body, shaking her head. "No one tries to stop a happy wave."
"Well, no one wants to relive their mother's death either!" Brie felt tears stinging at her eyes.
She stood up shakily and fished for a tissue in her purse.
Clara's eyes sliced through her. "Oh, get over it. I've been alive for almost 80 years. The one thing I've learned is that everyone dies."
"Clara..." Cora warned.
"What? You'd think that would motivate her to stop the wave next time."
Brie stomped toward Clara, wanting to hit her. Clara crossed her arms, leaning lazily against a concrete wall with a smug curl to her lips.
Brie raised her hand, drawing it back to her shoulder. "You heartless bi—"
Cora groaned, stepping in front of Clara and catching Brie's wrist between her fingers. "I'm sorry,"
she said, keeping a firm grip on Brie's arm. "I didn't mean to make you faint."
"I'm surprised you did," Thessa said. "Luckily no one saw." She looked thoughtfully at Brie. "Your talent in other areas is impressive, but you've had trouble with both of the twins' powers thus far."
"And let's not forget that your memory sucks too." Clara smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in Brie's experience with her. "Maybe she's not as strong as you thought she was, Thessa."
"She's strong enough," Thessa responded. Clara's expression reverted to its normal snarl. "Let's leave it here," Thessa said. "Cora?" Cora scrunched her face, muttering some words under her breath.
A few seconds later, Brie felt decidedly happier. She smiled, and then realized what had happened.
"Cora, stop messing with my emotions like that." Brie giggled, feeling slightly flirty. She knew she should be mad, but she couldn't stop grinning.
"Let's get you home," Cora said. "I'm sure your dad is worried about you."
This only made Brie giggle harder. Clara gave her a strange look.
"Take her in the car," Thessa said, tossing Cora the keys. "Clara and I can transport home."
In the car, Brie tried to shake herself out of her happy state, just to see if she could. The problem was that Clara was right; she didn't want to, and her half-formed efforts were hardly enough to make it happen. She needed motivation, and even going back over Clara's annoying little digs at her weren't enough to get her roaring mad again.
Cora pulled up to the gates to the van Rossum house. "You seem a little fixated on the idea of Pilot having the same powers as you. Why?"
"I tell my brother everything," Brie said, sobering up a little. "It's hard to lie to him about this." She had only felt buzzed once, the first time she drank vodka mixed with cranberry juice, and Cora's wave of happiness kind of reminded her of it.
But Pilot's name was enough to bring her crashing down, back to her real life. "He thinks I'm crazy." Brie confessed. "He's trying to send me to therapy."
Cora seemed amused. "Well, we can't have that."
"What will you do?"
Cora glanced at Brie. "I don't know. Change the way he feels about you, I guess."
"That would be such a relief, to have him off my back about therapy."
Brie thought for a moment, debating whether to confide in Cora more. Rykken seemed to trust Cora the most, and now that she had spent some time with the three girls, she would take Cora over the other two any day.
"What's wrong?" Cora asked. "You have a question for me."
Brie actually had two questions for Cora, but one was too embarrassing to ask. She took a deep breath. "Thessa was surprised that I fainted. Do most people handle your powers better than I did?"
"Most Hallows do. Sometimes earthlies have a reaction, similar to how a body might react to drugs.
But I don't usually use the combination of emotions I used on you tonight."
Brie opened the passenger door and stuck one foot out into the driveway. "And when you do use them, do the Hallows faint?"
Cora wore a guarded expression on her face. "No, not the Hallows."
"Not the Hallows... but someone then?" Brie pulled her foot back inside the car and shut the passenger door. "Cora, you have to tell me."
Cora squirmed in her seat. "It doesn't matter Brie. I'm sure you're under a lot of stress. U
sing your powers does that to you."
"I need to know the truth."
"Fine. But you're not going to like the answer."
"Tell me."
Cora locked eyes with Brie, her expression grave. "Brie, the only people who have fainted over my powers before, aside from earthlies, are the Nephilim."
*****
Pulling a silk wrap over her lips and nose, Thessa covered her face from the crowds of tourists clotting the narrow, cobbled streets. Hallows weren't supposed to be able to transport 8,000 miles at once, but Thessa was an exceptionally old Hallow. Still, the trip from Hawaii to Spain had taken most of Thessa's energy, and recognition was the last thing she wanted. Thessa hadn't traversed the Barri Gotic in years, but even now, she could navigate the dark, twisting alleyways with her eyes shut. The Roman-influenced quarter of Barcelona hadn't changed much—it was still a labyrinth of concrete, peppered with small European restaurants and shops filled with visitors and locals alike. There were still pockets of gardens with street dancers performing on the hour, places to sit and drink while soaking up sun, and candle-lit, arched churches on every corner. The architectural buildings were still a mix of old and new stone, with ages ranging from five to 500. They towered over her, side by side, creating a mishmash of centuries of cultural influence contained within a few square miles.
The buildings were the perfect metaphor for the Hallow community Thessa knew lived in the shadows below. The forgotten medieval crypts and tunnels far beneath the streets housed a smorgasbord of archangels' children, all ages and cultures, living and working together under the New Order's firm fist.
She wouldn't have visited the city on her own volition, but two days earlier she'd been summoned by none other than Mateo Vega himself. For what, she wasn't sure—hopefully a routine check-in.
When Thessa reached the Roman walls, she ducked under a half-archway into the dim shelter hidden by columns of brick dating back to 300 AD. She found the brick that was softer than all the others, marked by a symbol that looked like two tildes crossing each other, and pushed on it, letting herself plunge into the depths below.
Silver Smoke (#1 of Seven Halos Series) Page 6
