Seer (The Seeker Series Book 3)

by Amy Reece

  “Don’t worry about it. I would much rather spend time with you. Besides, I didn’t like how he looked at you.”

  “Oh, really? And how did he look at me?” I asked, amused at his jealousy.

  “He was definitely leering. All guys do when they look at you.” He sounded so nonchalant when he said this I had to laugh.

  We entered the SUB food court area and stepped up to the counter at the gourmet coffee stand. Once we had our coffee and bagels, we found an empty table in the quieter area tucked behind the coffee stand.

  “You look great today, querida. I love it when you wear those boots,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

  “Really? I didn’t know that. I will be sure to feature them more regularly in my wardrobe choices,” I teased.

  “Mmmm. They already feature prominently in several of my fantasies about you. I don’t know if I can take any more,” he teased back.

  “Fantasies? Ooh, that sounds promising. Are you going to tell me about these fantasies? I would love to know.”

  “Definitely not.” I could swear he blushed although it was hard to tell with his dark complexion. “Is it hot in here?”

  I laughed and put my hand over his. “I’m just glad to know you have fantasies about me. Do you want to hear some of mine about you?”

  He choked on his coffee and coughed. “Are you trying to kill me, Ally?” He leaned across the table, pulling me slightly to meet him. “I have incredible fantasies about you. Someday, I’m going to act on them. But not today.” He kissed me sweetly.

  “Hey, lovebirds!” Tara interrupted, plopping down uninvited and unwanted at the moment. “So, there I was, sitting in my bio-chem class, minding my own business, doing today’s Sudoku puzzle, when I saw this.” She slapped a copy of the Daily Lobo, our university newspaper, down between us, open to the personal ads, one circled in red.

  To the flame-haired girl in Zimmerman Library Tuesday night: your beauty lit up the study carrels on the 4th floor. Très très beau. Your taste in literature is exquisite. “Like a vessel at the launch/ When its last restraint is gone.”

  I had to read it three times before it sunk in. “Oh, my God. I think it’s me. I mean, I think it’s referring to me. I was at the library that night. That’s where I like to sit—”

  “Yes, of course it means you!” Tara interjected.

  “What the fu—” Jack grabbed the paper and read it again. “How could it be Ally?”

  “Thanks a lot!” I objected.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean…there are nearly 25,000 students here. How could it be…shit! This is you.”

  “Ally’s got a secret admirer!” Tara taunted. “That is so romantic!”

  “It’s not romantic! It’s creepy, that’s what it is. I don’t want someone creeping around, watching my girlfriend, and putting personal ads in the goddamn paper!” Jack nearly shouted, causing people at the tables next to us to stare.

  “Hey, shh,” I soothed, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s kind of weird, yeah, but…” I let the sentence fade away.

  “Is this French?” Jack demanded, pointing at the ad. “Did Rémy do this? I’ll kill him!”

  “No way.” Tara shook her head. “This is totally not his style. What do you think that last line means? ‘Like a vessel at the launch/When its last restraint is gone’?”

  “It’s from The Goblin Market. It’s the poem I was studying that night in the library. I had gone there to work on my literary analysis paper.”

  “So? Why would they include that line? What does it mean?” Tara asked.

  “I don’t know. I mean…” I frowned, confused by why the quote had been included.

  “What, Ally? What is it?” Jack asked, his jaw flexing as he tried to control his anger.

  I hated to make it worse, but knew he wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just that The Goblin Market seems like a children’s poem and Christina Rossetti swore that it was. But it has a lot of thinly veiled eroticism in it. If you read that line with that in mind—”

  “Son of a bitch!” Jack hissed.

  “Eww, that is kind of creepy,” Tara agreed. “And if you consider that whoever it was had to be close enough to see what you were reading. Shit, girl. I think you have a stalker.”

  Jack cursed again under his breath.

  “Do you think this could be the same person that’s following me?” I asked in a small voice. My stomach sank when I saw Jack and Tara exchange a quick look: nobody but me had ever seen so much as a glimpse of anyone following me. I knew my friends thought I was imagining everything because of the stress I was under trying to figure out if I was the next Oracle. “Well, I didn’t imagine this!” I said hotly, gesturing to the newspaper on the table between us.

  Tara wouldn’t meet my eyes, but Jack shifted closer to me, bringing my hand up to his mouth, kissing my clenched fist. “Hey,” he said softly. He lowered my hand and engulfed it between his large, warm ones. “I’m sorry. That was not cool. I believe you.” At my disbelieving look he rephrased. “Okay, I’m trying to believe you. I really am. I love you, Ally, and I hate the thought that someone is sneaking around watching you. I really hate the thought that there might be two people doing it.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Ally,” Tara added. “I just don’t want to believe that you’re being stalked. I really, really hope you’re wrong.”

  I nodded, agreeing with both of them. “What am I going to do, Jack?” I whispered.

  “We, sweetheart. You’re not in this alone. I’m going to help you figure this out.”

  “Me, too,” said Tara.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “For what, querida?”

  “It’s always something with me, isn’t it? Aren’t you sick of it yet? Don’t you want to be with someone who doesn’t have all this extra crap?”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Are you forgetting all the crap I came with? You’ve put up with an awful lot, you know. That’s what people who love each other do: they deal with each other’s crap.”

  I tried to smile. “That’s really romantic.”

  “That’s me: Mr. Romance,” he said before swooping in for a kiss. “I gotta go. Tara, will you stay with her? Make sure she gets to her next class?”

  “Sure, Jack.”

  He grabbed the newspaper before he left, walking with purpose toward the front of the building.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I flamed amazement; sometime I’ld divide,

  And burn in many places;”

  —Shakespeare, The Tempest 1.2

  To my Titian-haired beauty: J’adore, ma belle. “He had robbed the body of its taint, the world’s taunts of their sting; he had shown her the holiness of direct desire.”

  I lowered the newspaper with a groan and dropped my head onto my arms. Why me, God? The cheesy personal ads kept coming, at least one per week. Each time there was a French love phrase of some sort and a suggestive quote from one of the books I was currently studying. It was embarrassing and disturbing. Tara no longer teased me about them because she knew how much they upset both Jack and me. Jack didn’t talk about it much, but I could tell he was aware of them and still angry. Although I still felt like someone was watching me, I hesitated to mention it to Jack or Tara, knowing they were inclined to think it was a product of my overly-stressed imagination. I was turning into a nervous wreck: the nightmares about searching for something while being followed disturbed my sleep at least three to four times a week, I still felt like I was being watched in reality, and I apparently had a secret admirer. Crap. I was having a hard time concentrating and was afraid my grades were going to suffer.

  “Hi. Excuse me.” The voice came from above my head.

  I sat up, brushing my long, red hair out of my face.

  “Are you her?” A girl about my age stood at the edge of the table.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you her?” She pointed at the Daily Lobo, opened to the
personal pages, on my table. “Are you the redhead in all those personal ads?”

  “What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?” I was appalled someone had connected me to the crazy ads.

  “Because you have really red hair, you’re pretty, and you have the book the latest ad refers to.” She reached down and picked up the copy of A Room with a View, which was where the latest quote came from. “I’m just wondering. My friends and I,” she gestured to a table behind her, “have been figuring out the quotes for weeks and trying to find who the girl is. A bunch of people are trying to figure it out.”

  “What do you mean by a bunch of people?” I interrupted her.

  “It’s kind of a thing on Twitter right now. See?” She showed me her smartphone. Oh, my God. I had my own hash tag! #RedHairMysteryGirl. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she said, grinning.

  “Nope. Sorry. It’s definitely not me. I, uh, I just dyed my hair this color last week. Yeah, it’s really blonde. I gotta go.” I hurriedly gathered my books and rushed out of the SUB. Oh, great. This was getting out of hand. My humiliation was now trending on social media. Shit. Shit. Shit. I paced and cursed under my breath, wondering what in the world I could do to stop the personal ads.

  “Ally! Hey, where were you?” Michael jogged up to where I paced.

  “Oh, crap, Michael! I’m sorry.” I had been waiting for him in the SUB for our usual coffee date before our Shakespeare class.

  “No problem. Are you okay? You look upset.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just irritated by something. It’s fine.” I managed to dredge up a slight smile. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

  “Okay, well, let’s get some coffee and go over these character analyses. I need your advice on what to write about Caliban. I’m not sure what to think about him.”

  “Sure. Just, uh, give me a second.” I pulled an elastic band off my wrist and looped my hair into a ponytail, which I then stuffed into a slouch hat that I fished out of my backpack. I added a pair of glasses for good measure, which I usually only wore in class to see the board. This would have to do for now; maybe I’d consider dyeing my hair for real. Or shaving my head. This might call for drastic measures.

  Once we had our coffee and were settled in an area of the SUB far away from my, ahem, fan club, Michael asked, “So, what’s with the disguise?”

  “It’s that obvious, huh?” I grimaced at his nod. “It’s these stupid personal ads.” At his blank look, I pulled the latest out of the book I had folded it into and showed him the ad.

  “Hmm,” he mused. “And you think this is meant for you?”

  I flushed. “Yeah, I do. It’s not that I think I’m a beauty and all that,” I hastened to assure him. “It’s just that the first one was very specific about a location. And all the quotes are from the books or poems that I’m reading for my Victorian lit class.”

  “So, you’ve got an admirer. Lucky you. Do you think it’s your boyfriend?”

  “No.” I laughed. “This is not Jack’s style.”

  “What? He’s not romantic like that?” he scoffed.

  “He’s plenty romantic!” I rushed to defend him. “He’s just not creepy. He compliments me to my face.”

  “Well, maybe not everyone has that luxury. So, you don’t like these ads? You’re not flattered or anything?”

  “No, I mean, yes—I’m flattered. But I wish they would stop. They border on stalkerish, the way this guy knows what I’m reading—”

  “Maybe it’s a girl,” he suggested.

  I had no comeback for that. “I suppose it could be a girl. My point is, they’re embarrassing, especially now that I have my own hash tag and people are starting to ask if I’m the mystery redhead.” I sighed and took a sip of my mocha latte. “Never mind. Let’s look at these character sketches, okay?” We were reading The Tempest and had been instructed to analyze two of the characters. I had chosen Prospero and Miranda and felt fairly confident that I had done a good job, but wanted to get Michael’s opinion. I finished reading his analysis of Caliban and waited for him to catch up.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked anxiously.

  “It’s good. I’m not sure I’m in total agreement of your sympathetic take on the monster, but you’ve backed it up adequately. How did I do?”

  “Good. I like how you compare Prospero to a chess master, aligning all the people like pawns. You’ve also pointed out some strengths in Miranda’s character that are rather nice.”

  “Thanks, Michael. Well, let’s head to class.” As I threw away my empty cup, a chill crept down my spine and I looked up just in time to see someone duck quickly into a nearby alcove, as if they did not want to be caught watching. I didn’t hesitate; I darted after the figure, leaving Michael standing by the trashcans. The alcove turned out to be a service corridor. I heard a door slam just as I turned the corner, but every door up and down the entire hallway was locked.

  “Ally? What the heck? Who was that guy you were chasing?” Michael caught up to me, slightly out of breath.

  I whirled around, backing him up against the wall. “You saw someone?” I demanded. He nodded. “What did he look like?”

  “Jeez, Ally! Calm down!” He looked at me as if I were a crazed lunatic.

  “Sorry.” I backed away, giving him some room. “I was just surprised you saw someone too. Could you see what he looked like? Was it definitely a man?”

  “I couldn’t really tell anything except, yeah, it was a guy. I just caught a quick glimpse. What’s going on?”

  “I think this guy has been following me for a while. I catch glimpses, but that’s it.” I put my hands on my hips, dropped my head back, and laughed mirthlessly. “You must think I’m insane! First, I have a secret admirer placing personal ads in the Daily Lobo, and now I’m chasing a stalker. I’m not usually this self-absorbed.”

  “I don’t think you’re insane or self-absorbed. Well, maybe a little insane. Come on, crazy girl. We’re going to be late for class.”

  ***

  “Ally, I have a favor to ask.” My dad paused while the waiter placed our desserts in front of us. He still made a point of taking me out to dinner at least once a month when he flew in for business.

  “Sure, Dad. Whatever you need.” We had built a comfortable relationship, enjoying each other’s company, although we would probably never be as close as I was with my mother.

  “Well, I need your presence at a fundraiser next week. You know I’m on the board of directors for a homeless shelter here in Albuquerque, right?” I nodded. It was one of the many interests that brought him here regularly. “Well, we have our annual fundraiser next Saturday evening, and I bought a table. I’m having trouble filling it, and empty seats look bad. I need you and Jack to dress up and come be beautiful and charming. There will be good food, entertainment, and even some dancing. What do you say?”

  “Of course, Dad. No problem.” I was glad he and Jack got along so well; Dad approved of Jack’s old-fashioned treatment of me—i.e. we weren’t shacking up—and Jack was happy I was able to get along well with my father. He and his dad had a tense relationship at best. “I’ll talk to Jack to make sure he’s available next Saturday.”

  ***

  “I’m going to be out of town next Saturday. I’m sorry, querida. Mat and I are going camping,” Jack said as we sat on my couch, doing homework the next evening. “It’s okay. I’ll cancel. Mat and I can go another time,” he offered.

  “Absolutely not!” I sat up and took his adorable face in my hands. “You are not to cancel! You haven’t had any fun lately! All you do is work and study and do army stuff. You deserve to go camping.”

  “Ally, it’s no problem. I love spending time with you.”

  That deserved a kiss. “I know you do. You’re the best boyfriend in the whole, wide world.” That earned me a longer kiss. “What were we talking about?” I asked as I pulled back, flustered as always from his kisses.

  He chuckled and kissed me briefly. “I was tell
ing you I don’t mind canceling my camping trip so I can take you to your dad’s fundraiser. Who else would you go with?”

  Aha! I knew he really wanted to go camping. I just needed to convince him I would be fine without his company. “Don’t worry about it, Jack. I’ll ask Tara. Since you’re stealing her boyfriend away, she should be free.”

  She wasn’t free; she was scheduled to work, so I asked Rémy. Jack was less than thrilled at this development; the latent jealousy he harbored against Rémy for our past semi-romantic entanglement occasionally reared its ugly head.

  “Jack, you know you have no reason to worry, right?” I was helping him load Mat’s truck for their camping trip. The weather had turned colder and this would be their last chance to camp before they had to deal with copious amounts of mountain snow. “He’s like a brother to me.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that the thought of sending my girlfriend off on a glamorous date with a 23 year old French guy rubs me the wrong way. I’m not sure he totally understands the whole ‘like a brother’ thing, either.”

  “Hey.” I backed him against the side of the truck. “Look at me. You’re the one I want to be with, Jack. I love you. And Rémy is in love with Mina. He just doesn’t know it yet.” I leaned in, pulling him down for a kiss. “Now, go have fun camping with your cousin. Don’t freeze off anything important.”

  ***

  Rémy picked me up Saturday evening in his gorgeous BMW. “You look beautiful, chérie, as always.”

  “Thanks, Rémy.” I had chosen a sea-foam green cocktail dress—okay, Tara had chosen it for me—and Mina had helped me pile my hair on top of my head in a way I hoped looked sophisticated and not pathetic. “Wow, you look great. You didn’t have to rent a tux for this.”

  “I didn’t rent it.” Of course he would own a tux. What was I thinking? “Nice roses. Did Jack send them?”

  “Yes,” I smiled at the arrangement I had made in a crystal vase and placed on the dining room table. The lush bouquet had been waiting on my doorstep when I got home from school, along with a note: