by Amber Garza
GLIMMER
A Delaney’s Gift
Bonus Short Story
GLIMMER
Copyright @ 2012 by Amber Garza
Cover Model: Brittany Norris
Cover Photographer: Renae Lamb
Graphic Artist: Lisa Eneqvist
Author Photo: Megan Squires
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
For information: http://www.ambergarza.wordpress.com
Delaney
THE RIVER’S ICY fingers reach for me, slithering around my legs and arms until it has me in its firm grip. My body is pulled underwater by the strong current, and my limbs are too tired to fight it any longer. Water laps over my head, rushing into my face and cutting off my breath. I claw at the frigid liquid, but it slips between my fingers and swirls around me until I’m dizzy. Fish-scented water swims on my tongue and clogs my throat. Closing my mouth, I struggle to keep my panic in check. The river swallows me whole, murkiness clouding my vision. I can’t make out Micah’s frame, and I’m sure he’s far ahead by now. Before the current swept me up we’d been swimming together. Air escapes my lungs, and I am pulled further down. Sputtering, I attempt to kick with my legs and pull with my arms, but it’s a losing battle. Each time I start to propel myself forward I am knocked back down. Tilting my head up, I catch a glimpse of light shimmering from the surface. Fear grips me at how far away it is. Foamy water swirls around me like a flurry of snow, and I begin to lose feeling in my limbs.
As my head spins and my chest burns, darkness envelopes me. While I am tossed in the waves like a rag doll, I curse my useless muscles. If only I had superhuman strength like Micah I would be able to fight the current. What good is seeing visions of a future catastrophe if I’m not strong enough to prevent it? I think about the vision I had just an hour before of the little boy drowning in this river. It’s the reason we came here. I only hope Micah gets to him in time. At least then my death won’t be in vain. Just before I drift off, I feel arms circle my waist and hoist me up. My head rolls to the side, and everything goes black.
I shoot upright, a cough erupting from my throat. Water spills down my chest, causing me to shiver. Arms cradle me, a finger brushes my cheek. I am lying in the dirt and it scratches against my wet legs. Goose bumps arise on my flesh. Everything is blurry, but as my vision clears I take in Micah’s dark skin, his muscles imprinted against his wet t-shirt.
“Delaney, thank God you’re okay.” Micah bends down, burying his face in my neck. His long dreadlocks swish along his back. He tightens his hold on me, pressing his chest to mine. I can feel his heart beating erratically against my flesh. “I thought I lost you for a minute. I don’t know what I would’ve done…” his voice trails off, his words thick.
I know how he feels. There’s no way I could live without Micah either. We’d been best friends since we were both in diapers. But my throat burns too bad to answer him, so I just continue coughing.
My eyes widen as I take in my surroundings — the river rushing behind me, the sandy beach all around. I grab Micah’s arm, and he lifts his head.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. “The paramedics are on their way down. We’ll get you to the hospital.”
He doesn’t realize that my panic isn’t about me.
“What about the boy?” I ask.
“He’s fine.” Micah smiles reassuringly. “I got to him in time. He was only under water for a second. Not a scratch on him.”
I nod, relieved. Only Micah is powerful enough to get to the boy in time and make it back to save me. I never should’ve doubted him. Already I feel stronger, more like myself. That is one of the perks of being a Warrior – our resilient bodies. Micah’s dark eyes search mine, worried lines framing them like spider’s legs. At this moment he looks so much older than thirteen. Then again, Micah has always seemed older than he is. We’re not exactly typical teenagers.
“I always knew the boy would be okay.” He fingers a strand of my wet hair. “It was you I was worried about.”
“Thank you,” I force the words out of my scratchy throat.
“Hey.” Micah shrugs and gives me a tight smile. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re a team, Laney. I’ll always save you, you know that.”
I bite my lip. It’s true that he’s always saved me, but I worry that one day I won’t be so lucky. What if Micah isn’t always here to rescue me? What will happen then? I know Micah loves being an Ekloge Warrior and at times so have I. But in this moment I want to run from my calling. I want to shed my duty like a pair of old, worn-out shoes. I never asked for this, and I don’t want to lose my life for it.
“Micah, stop looking at that guy’s neck. He’s not one of us, okay?” I grit my teeth. The guy in line ahead of us in the school cafeteria looks around agitated. That doesn’t stop Micah though. He keeps moving in close to the guy, trying to catch a peek of his skin buried under his long brown hair.
“He looks like he could be. Besides, he has tattoos on his arms,” Micah whispers back.
“So?” I lower my voice even further. “Not every follower of Zerach is a Warrior.”
“Ah, but some are.” Micah smiles, and I can tell I haven’t deterred him at all.
“You know, your quest to find the other eight is really annoying sometimes.”
“Well, your denial of our calling is even more annoying.” Micah raises his eyebrows.
The cafeteria door opens, and a breeze blows in kicking up the guy’s hair in front of us and exposing his neck. Which is, just as I suspected, completely devoid of the Ekloge Warrior’s mark.
“I told you.” The truth is, I’m relieved. The thought of finding the others makes my stomach churn. I know what it’ll mean when we’re finally all together, and that’s something I’m not ready for.
Micah sighs as we move forward in line. My stomach rumbles as I smell the greasy food.
“What’s with you today, anyway?” Micah asks. “You’re really on edge.”
“Oh, I just had a bad dream last night.” I run a hand over my long hair and glance around the cafeteria. Students sit at tables laughing and chatting, completely oblivious to the dangers threatening our town. Must be nice.
“About what?” Micah’s chiseled features are etched in concern, and his chocolate brown eyes narrow. As he leans toward me, I catch the familiar scent of his bar soap and laundry detergent. He wears a t-shirt and jeans, and his muscles bulge through the fabric. I notice other girls glancing in our direction, appraising him. Not that I blame them. He is totally hot.
I bite my lip, not wanting anyone to hear our conversation. Bending my head closer to Micah’s I say, “About the time you saved me from drowning.”
“Why would you dream about that? It was, like, three years ago.”
I shake my head. “No idea.” Only I guess that’s sort of a lie. Micah doesn’t realize how significant that event was for me. Sure he knows I almost drowned, but not how badly it scared me. Part of being a Warrior is to be tough. And for the most part I am, but once I tasted death I realized how much I wanted to live. That was the day I started hating my calling. That was the day I started dreaming of being a normal girl.
From across the room I catch sight of Sam Peterson. When we lock eyes, he immediately lowers his gaze. I watch as he turns from me and slides onto the bench next to his friend Jake. He flashes Jake a lopsided smile, and his dark hair falls over his pale forehead. He must sense that I am still staring, because his eyes find me again. My insides churn the way they do every time I look into his eyes that resemble the sky on a stormy day. I venture a tiny smile, but he doesn’t return it. He never does, but th
at doesn’t stop me from trying. I don’t know why. I’ve never been able to figure out why Sam intrigues me the way he does.
“Delaney?” Micah cocks an eyebrow, following my gaze. When he sees where it lands, he frowns. That’s when my eyes settle on Sam’s arms. They are smooth and pale, devoid of our markings, proving that he isn’t a follower of Zerach. I glance down at my own arms and take in the colorful images painting my flesh.
“C’mon, it’s our turn.”Micah nudges me.
I move forward and grab an orange tray. “So, you wanna hang out tonight?”
“Can’t. I’m going to Aunt Tabby’s.”
Reaching for a packaged salad, I smile. I’ve always been a little jealous of Micah’s close ties to his aunt. I’m not close to any of my extended family.
After loading up our trays, we head toward an empty table in the corner. As we pass other tables crammed with kids, I feel the familiar pang of longing. If only we could sit at one of those. I notice a couple of students glancing at us as we pass. I’m pretty sure most kids think we’re freaks, and if they knew the truth, it would only be worse for us.
Lost in my own thoughts, I collide with a warm body. My tray slides from my fingers and starts to fall to the floor. However, Micah’s arm juts out swiftly and he catches it in his palm. I heave a sigh of relief, not wishing to embarrass myself in front of the entire student body by dropping my lunch. Clutching my chest, I glance up.
My heart stops. “Sam.” I love the way his name sounds as I roll it on my tongue. “I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Sam shoves his hands into the pocket of his washed out jeans. One side of his mouth curls upward. “Yeah, clearly. Good thing your boyfriend was.”
I cringe, wishing he didn’t think Micah was my boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter. Most people in school think Micah and I are together. Usually I just go with it, but for some reason I really don’t want Sam to think that.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, and my face warms.
Sam raises his eyebrows, his lips slowly curving into a smirk that makes me feel like an idiot. Then he swivels on his heels and saunters off. I turn to Micah, who now holds both of our trays in his massive hands.
“Thanks,” I mumble, as I snatch mine from him.
“Anytime.” He starts to walk toward the table, his eyebrows knit together in a pensive look.
I glance back at the boy who isn’t one of us. The boy I shouldn’t be interested in at all. The one I’ve been warned to stay away from for years.
Sam
I FEEL SOMEONE watching me. Even before turning, I’m positive it’s Delaney. Sure enough, when I whip around I catch sight of her bright emerald eyes staring back at me. Unnerved, I swiftly look away and walk toward my regular table. Jake is already there, hunched over his sandwich.
“Hey, Jake.” I flash my friend a smile and plop down onto the bench beside him.
He nods his head, unable to speak around the giant mouthful of food. Jake always eats like he thinks his food might run away if he doesn’t get it down fast enough. His chin length hair bobs around his face, and he’s wearing his regular wrinkled t-shirt and faded jeans.
I drop my backpack on the floor by the toe of my black boot, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. She’s still staring. I can feel it. When I glance up, my suspicions are confirmed. Her red hair shimmers down her back, her pale cheeks redden, and her pink lips smooth out into a soft smile. My heart picks up speed. Most guys would give their right arm to have Delaney look at them with that vulnerable, open expression. But I’m not most guys. Without smiling back, I turn my attention to Jake who is already finished with his lunch.
“Wanna hang out at the pool hall this afternoon?” Jake asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, I can’t. Gotta work.”
“Seriously?” Jake tucks a strand of greasy hair behind his ears. “Your dad can’t let you off for one afternoon?”
I chuckle bitterly. “The old man isn’t into doing me any favors.”
“But I am.” Bree slides in beside me, flashing a wink and seductive grin. Her sweet scent washes over me. She leans in close, her long blonde hair brushing against my shoulder. “Into giving you favors, I mean.”
“Yeah, I knew what you meant.” I cock my eyebrow and rest my hand on her thigh. She sighs and nestles in close. Jake rolls his eyes at me, and I give him a harsh look.
A few of the cheerleaders descend on our table all squealing and chattering loudly. I already feel a headache coming on. I can only handle so much of Bree and her friends. Reaching down, I grab some change out of the front pocket of my backpack, and it jangles in my palm.
“Be right back. I’m gonna grab a soda.” I swing my leg over the bench and stand up, immediately bumping into Delaney. Her tray jabs me in the gut, teeters in her hand and then plummets toward the floor. But then I catch a blur of movement like a swirling strobe light out of the corner of my eye. I glance over to see Micah holding Delaney’s tray in the palm of his hand. He looks like a waiter as he balances both his tray and hers in his palms.
I shake my head, unsure of how he did that. Delaney looks flustered too, her cheeks rosy and her eyes wide. Then again, I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve said for years that I think the dude is on some serious steroids. That’s why I call him Superman behind his back. I guess maybe crazy good reflexes are one of the side effects of his muscle enhancing drugs.
My eyes linger on Delaney for a minute. Her fingers flutter over her chest.
“Sam,” she speaks breathlessly. “I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
My palms clam up and I shove them into the pocket of my jeans. “Yeah, clearly. Good thing your boyfriend was.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
I look over at Superman who looks royally dejected by this news, and I almost laugh out loud. Without saying a word, I swivel on my heels and walk away. As I head toward the soda machine, I wonder why Delaney made a point of correcting me. I mean, she and Superman spend all their time together. Truthfully, I figured they were a couple. It’s one of the reasons her flirting bugs me. I’m pretty sure Superman could kick my butt in a fight.
I peer over my shoulder. Delaney’s back is to me as she walks behind Micah. Sure, the chick is hot. There’s no disputing that. But whether she has a boyfriend or not, there’s no way I’m going for her. She’s not the type of girl to mess with. I’ll stick with girls like Bree - safe, easy.
Delaney’s nothing like Bree. I would never describe her as safe or easy. She’s different.
Delaney Scott is dangerous.
Delaney
I SIT CROSS-LEGGED on my bed, a paperback book open on my lap. I’ve been flipping through the pages for the past twenty minutes, but nothing’s registered. Normally I can totally lose myself in a novel, but tonight my mind’s racing. Sighing, I lean my head against the bed frame and stare out the window. The inky black sky and twinkling stars wink back at me. I squint as I try to make out Micah’s house next door to see if he’s home yet from Tabitha’s. But his bedroom window is dark, so I’m guessing not.
Ever since I was a little girl I’ve found the fact that Micah lives so close to be a comfort. There’s something about knowing he’s always near that fills me with a sense of peace, like all is right with the world.
My insides clench when I remember the look on his face when I blurted out that he wasn’t my boyfriend. I mean, it’s the truth. We are just friends, but I know Micah wants our relationship to turn into something more someday. There have been times when I’ve wanted that too, but I can’t deny the fact that I am attracted to other guys. Especially Sam. I don’t know why. I can’t really explain it. There’s just a feeling I get when I’m around him. Like a fluttery, jittery, swirly-headed feeling I don’t get with anyone else. Only it’s clear he doesn’t feel the same way, so I don’t know why I even bother. Besides, it’s not like I would ever be allowed to go
out with him.
Groaning, I fling my book onto the nightstand and reach over to turn off my light. Before my hand touches the switch, a shock rips through my body. The room fades away to darkness, then white light bleeds into the black, and a blurry picture slowly unfolds, layer upon layer like the peeling of an onion. Finally I get a good look.
A car speeds down a dark street, a young teenage girl in the driver’s seat. Another car is chasing her. My stomach tightens at the sight of the sleek, black vehicle with tinted windows. I can make out the profiles of two men in the front seat, but I can’t get a good look at their faces no matter how hard I try. Yet, I have a funny feeling I know who they are. The girl’s car careens around a corner at high speed, her tires squealing. She’s nearing a bridge. My heart sinks as she loses control of her vehicle and it shoots off the bridge and falls toward the lake below.
As the vision disappears and my room comes back into view, I inhale sharply. My pulse is racing, buzzing through my veins as if millions of tiny bees reside in them. I jump out of bed and reach for my phone. I dial Micah and press the phone to my ear. As it rings, I slip on a pair of shoes. My body trembles. When his voicemail clicks on, panic sets in.
After the beep I practically scream into it, “Micah, get to the bridge near Dovetail Lane. I had a vision of a teenage girl driving her car off the bridge and into the lake. Please hurry. I’m leaving now.”
After hanging up, I shoot him a text as well just to cover all my bases. Then I dial Officer Thomas and give all the details to him too. I contemplate waiting until I hear back from Micah or just letting the police handle it, but then I think of that poor girl and realize I can’t do that. No matter how much I hate it, this is my gift. This is my duty, and I have to fulfill it with or without Micah. And if I wait for the police, it may be too late. There’s not usually very much time between my vision and the actual event. Gripping the phone tightly in my palm, I snatch up my keys and purse with my other hand and race out of the room.
