I force my eyes back to the screen, hoping the catfight on TV will keep me from dwelling any further on that strange moment. With every passing hour the whole thing just seems weirder and weirder, and by now I’m beginning to question my own sanity again. I mean, what kind of loser believes she has superpowers?
What on earth is wrong with me?
What if I really am insane?
What if it happens again and—
The sound of the doorbell interrupts my panicky thoughts before they can spin completely out of control.
“Did any of you order anything?” Third Wave asks as she gets up from the couch to open the door.
A few shrugs as Maggie passes around the popcorn.
“Hi, Eve. I was wondering if Jess’s here?”
The unexpected sound of Gunn’s voice causes the equivalent of a mild electric shock to surge through my body.
“Um. Yeah. Sure.”
There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, and I grin widely when I realize that, for once in her life, Third Wave must be at a loss for words. (Close up, in the flesh, Gunn often has that effect on people.) It takes almost a full five seconds before she finally remembers the basics of social interaction.
“So. Um. Come on in. She’s right there.”
When Gunn walks into the room, I have to use every inch of willpower not to start blushing.
“Hi, Daniel,” he says as he enters the room. “Maggie. Henry.”
“What’s up,” Daniel and Henry greet him politely.
Maggie tries to say something, but only a strangled little squeak gets out before she starts coughing, her face crimson.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods frantically, still coughing, as I walk toward Gunn, who’s hovering in the doorway.
“Gunn. What are you doing here?”
He smiles. “I had to interview a retired professor for my dissertation. He doesn’t live too far from town, so I thought I’d swing by to see Ingrid. I was on my way there when I saw your car outside, and I thought I’d just stop and say hi. See how you’re doing.”
His explanation is so long and convoluted that I narrow my eyes at him. “You heard, didn’t you?”
“Heard what?”
“About me getting suspended.”
“Again?” He raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”
As usual, his physical presence is so overwhelming that I can’t bring myself to look at his face, so I give him the short version while fiddling with my nails, aware of my friends’ curious gazes boring into my back. When I finally look up, I see that his dark-blue eyes are cold and assessing, his expression thoughtful.
“And it definitely wasn’t you on the photo?” he asks.
I smile wryly. “Well, to give you an idea, the woman had a giant red dragon tattooed over her … you know.”
He frowns. “A dragon?”
“Yeah. And she had fake boobs, each of which was bigger than my entire head.”
His quick smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And that’s all that happened?”
I shrug. “Ty apologized afterward but I think it’s only because Jonathan made him.”
“Jonathan Pendragon?” Gunn steps forward, every muscled tensed, suddenly vibrating with a curiously violent kind of energy. “He actually spoke to you?”
“Yeah...” I give him a confused look.
“Has he ever done that before?”
“What? Speak to me?”
He nods.
“Nah. Usually he ignores me completely, like I don’t even exist.” I pull a face. “What a jerk, right?”
He doesn’t return my smile. “Actually, Jess, do you mind walking to my car with me?” He waves at the room. “I’ll see you guys later.”
As the door closes behind us, I hear Maggie and Eve burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. Gunn ignores it, or maybe he simply doesn’t hear them because when he turns to me, the expression on his face is preoccupied and more worried than I’ve ever seen. “What really happened today, Jess?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart. I know something happened.”
“How?”
“Just trust me.”
And because I do trust him (or, let’s be honest, maybe because of the “sweetheart”), I tell him everything. I tell him how I suddenly felt so calm when Sweeney spoke to me, and so removed from it all, and so powerful. I tell him how I saw everything so clearly: I could suddenly read Sweeney’s motives, and I knew that Ty wasn’t really my enemy. I tell Gunn how I drew on his self-defense teaching and how easy it was to take control. To make it stop. I tell him about the enormous sense of release I felt, the joy in that exquisite moment when I let loose my power.
And then I feel kind of stupid, until I look up to find him staring at me as if he’s seen a ghost. “Gunn? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.”
“This is really starting to freak me out.”
His steely-blue gaze softens a little. “Of course it is.” He reaches out as if to stroke my hair away from my face, but at the last moment he changes his mind, letting his hand drop awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. There’s something important I need to take care of, and it really can’t wait. But don’t worry—I won’t go back to the city until we’ve figured this out, okay?”
“Okay.” But my voice sounds small and uncertain. Deep down, I didn’t expect him to believe my story, and now, because he has, I’m suddenly really scared. “You don’t think that maybe…” I clear my throat. “It’s not all starting again, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. All the weird stuff that happened to me after my mom died.”
He shakes his head firmly, but I know him well enough to recognize the worried look in his eyes. “No. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He gets into his car and starts the engine. “But for now it’s probably best to keep all this a secret, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod solemnly, deciding it’s probably better not to tell him that Daniel already knows everything about it.
When I walk back into the house, Eve and Maggie are still giggling like two twelve-year olds.
“Holy naked Batman!” Eve shrieks when she sees me. “How do you get through those self-defense classes without having a stroke?”
“It’s a constant struggle,” I admit dryly.
Maggie dramatically clutches her heart. “Every time I see that man I basically start hyperventilating. And the two of you, living under the same roof! How do you stand it?”
“You know he only stays on weekends.”
“Well, no wonder you don’t date anyone at school when you’ve got that waiting at home,” Eve says.
I manage a wry smile. “I wish.”
Daniel makes a gagging noise. “Okay, enough with the swooning. Get a grip, girls, this is just embarrassing.” He gets up from the floor. “It’s time for me to go home and try recover what’s left of my fragile male ego.”
“I must get going too.” Maggie gives a shy, naughty smile. “I need to take a cold shower and do some Bible study immediately.”
“Hey,” Henry complains, glaring at Eve. “How would you like it if I ogled some insanely hot girl like that?”
She laughs, leaning over to kiss the scowl from his face. “You know I love you and only you.”
“No!” I protest. “You guys, don’t go. Please.” I turn to Third Wave. “At least let’s just finish the show. Redneck Guy is wearing edible man panties remember?”
She smiles but shakes her head. “You’re welcome to stay, but my blog is really starting to fall behind. If I don’t want to lose all thirteen of my followers, I’d better get cracking.”
“Will you watch with me?” I turn to Daniel.
“Sorry.” He gives my shoulder a sympathetic little squeeze. “Why don’t you go for a swim? You know that always makes you feel better.”
Chapter 6
When the Truce between the Keeper Clans was signed in 1881, Anastasiya
Orlov, the White Lady, was the only one of the Order’s leaders to rebel against the majority decision. Driven to extremes by a peace forced upon her and determined to destroy the last of the Trueborn even without the support of her own Clan, she finally crossed a line and did what no Keeper had dared to before, sacrificing her very soul in order to gain the forbidden power of Deathmagic.
The Order, of course, could not condone such a blatant flouting of their most sacred laws, and shortly thereafter she was made Outcast. Her daughter, Polina Orlov, (who had publicly accepted the Truce while privately expressing her reservations) rose to take her place as White Lady, and in time Anastasiya, who had once been both the leader of her people and a highly respected Skymaster, became something else entirely: the White Witch, a figure of evil so legendary that there are many today who doubt if she ever existed.
From A Brief History of The Order of Keepers
by Lord Harry Charles Shawcross (1961)
My mother was a geologist who specialized in desert areas, and because she worked for an international mining company, I grew up in half-forgotten little desert towns all over the world. People don’t believe me, but unless you count the view from an airplane window, I’ve never seen the ocean. Or a lake. Or any river bigger than a stream.
Perhaps for this reason, I’ve always been drawn to water in the same way that some people are drawn to cars, or fashion, or technology. I’ve spent hours and hours of my life poring over images on screens, fantasizing about the day I’ll get to see this lake, that beach, those oceans…
As bad luck would have it, the only lake in our area is so polluted that it’s been fenced in by the Pendragons, and it’s now little more than a dumping ground for their factory’s waste. Which means I can only really ease my longing for water by visiting the town pool, an Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool that’s so sad and neglected that almost nobody except for me ever goes there anymore.
From the outside the place looks a bit like a barn, mainly because it was built on the outskirts of town and is surrounded by open farmland. The parking lot is littered with broken glass and empty bottles, and inside the whole building smells of chlorine and sweaty feet. The caretaker, an old alcoholic named Victor, is usually too wasted to swipe your card, the changing rooms are pretty disgusting, and the pool itself isn’t great either: there are cracks running along the lines painted on the bottom, broken tiles around the edges, and all kinds of dubious things floating in the greenish water.
But I just love it.
Being here makes me happy in a way that’s almost impossible to explain, except to say that I love every single thing about being in the water. The cool, soothing depths. The shadowy world visible through your goggles. The thud of your heart beating loudly in your ears. The smooth wetness on your skin. The crisp sound of each gasping breath. The way your mind begins to clear. The slow warming up of your muscles. The silky water all around you.
Swimming centers me and it keeps me sane. There are times when I literally cannot get out of the pool, when I swim and swim and swim until my body aches and my lungs burn and my thoughts become watery and slippery and deliciously still.
Today is such a day.
It takes a while for the pool to work its magic, but after half an hour or so I can feel my fears and frustrations beginning to fade. It’s as if the water is covering me in a thin, protective layer, a kind of armor that allows me to shut out the world and forget about all the confusing things that have happened today. I swim for as long and as hard as I can, lap after lap, never stopping.
Up and turn. Down again. Turn. Up and turn.
Afterward, I take a quick shower and get dressed. My phone tells me I’ve been swimming for more than an hour; I probably overdid it slightly because my hands are trembling with exhaustion. Suddenly dizzy with hunger, I scratch around for a candy bar in my bag—
Something warns me that I’m in danger.
Without thinking I drop to the floor and roll away into a low, protective crouch, exactly the way Gunn taught me to.
“Begone, life BREAKER!!”
A flash of something loud and bright hits the exact spot I was standing a second ago. It leaves a smoking black hole in the floor.
“Daughter of EVIL!”
The grating whisper comes from a woman standing at the other end of the changing room. She has long white hair, a white cloak and—horribly!—dull white eyes without any pupils. I scuttle backward, my heart beating loudly in my ears.
“Depart, moon SWALLOWER!”
The moment is surreal, nightmarish. Adrenalin hits me in a flash of hot blood and energy, honing my senses to the point where I can clearly make out every wrinkle on the woman’s ancient, hate-filled face. With a sick feeling of dread, I notice that her long white nails have been sharpened into claws.
“I COMMAND THEE! Remove thyself from this dimension, WORM!”
The woman’s voice, hoarse and croaky at first, has become a vicious shriek. The words seem torn from her throat: with every scream I can clearly see her black tongue wriggling in her raw, red mouth, her broken teeth yellow against her deathly-white skin.
“Creature of the VOID!”
I scurry away sideways like a crab, too scared to get up and turn my back on her. But then she points her hand at me, her fingers stretched out like bony branches, and blue lightning leaps from her fingertips toward me.
I give an involuntary little shriek as I do another one of Gunn’s dive rolls, instinctively moving to the side and back, trying to take cover behind the row of lockers behind me. The lightning misses me by mere inches, but the woman doesn’t even pause, pointing her sharpened claws at me while screaming like some demon out of a horror movie.
“Get thee back into the dark! DEPART!”
It takes a second before I feel the lockers against my back, and as soon as I do, I duck in behind them, get onto my feet and run.
I don’t think; I have no plan. There’s nothing in my mind except the overpowering need to get away.
On pure instinct I fly down the short corridor toward the front office, my body so full of adrenaline that I literally fly over the turnstiles at the exit.
Old Victor, the caretaker, must be passed out again because there’s no sign of him outside. There’s no sign of anyone. Still, surely she won’t continue her attack in the open?
Wrong.
“Bringer of CHAOS!”
I hear the evil shriek a second before the lightning hits. It’s a shock of sheer agony, a ball of flame smashing into my shoulder. I scream as I hit the cracked cement.
Oh God.
The pain is breathtaking, unbearable, but I get up immediately, stumbling, running, then sprinting toward my car.
I’m fighting for my life. The pain will have to wait.
My car is the only one in the parking lot and I dive behind it as another flash of fire narrowly misses my head. I tug at my door handle, swear out loud when I find it locked, swear again when I realize my keys are still inside the building, safely tucked in my bag.
“Monstrous serpent, I command thee … BEGONE!”
There’s a moment of pure, primal panic. I freeze, a prey animal cornered by a predator. But even as my mind goes blank and my body numbs, I can feel something deep inside me awaken, an instinct perhaps, a presence that tells me loud and clear that if I want to survive, I need to pull myself together right now.
I close my eyes briefly, try to remember Gunn’s training.
Gunn would say that my enemy has a dangerous weapon effective over long distances, while I have nothing. And I’m wounded. Gunn would say that hiding, when your enemy knows where you’re hiding, is at best a stalling tactic. Gunn would say that fleeing is almost always better than fighting.
There’s no other choice. I turn my back and I run.
For the first few seconds my fear is so intense that I feel as if I’m flying. My limbs move fast and effortlessly, so swiftly I don’t even feel the road beneath my feet, every cell of my being focused on
the overwhelming need to get the hell away.
This woman is out to kill me. I know it with a deep, cold certainty.
So I run. I run away from the pool, away from the relative safety of the town, through a cornfield, and onto a dirt road. I have no idea where I’m going. I fly over the uneven surface, my feet barely touching the ground. I run faster than I ever have in my life, faster than I ever dreamed I could.
Another cornfield, another dirt road.
After a couple more miles with no sign of anyone behind me, I feel myself beginning to tire. And then, not too much further, the adrenaline abruptly drops me and I smash into a solid wall of exhaustion.
Suddenly, I’m in agony.
The pain in my shoulder is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, eating into me as if alive, deeper and deeper, gnawing. For an anxious moment I think I’m going to pass out, but I fight against the black spots, drawing on my fear to keep me going. If I pass out now, it’s over. That monstrous woman will find me, and she’ll kill me.
I have to keep moving. I have to…
I put one foot in front of the other, pushing myself as hard as I can, but I’m exhausted. More tired than I’ve ever been. I begin to stumble, decide it might be safer to slow my pace a little.
After a while I find myself walking.
And then crawling.
*
I’m not sure how much time has passed.
I’m crawling on my hands and knees because I can’t keep my balance when I try to stand. I’m moving deeper and deeper into a cornfield, somewhere. Every move I make is agony, but I don’t stop. I can’t run anymore so I need to hide.
I drag my body forward. I fight against the blackness.
One hand in front of the other.
Hide.
My shoulder is on fire.
I don’t want to die.
The world spins around me in all its beautiful colors, blue and green and red and white and black. Such a lot of black. I grit my teeth and I try to move but everything is spinning. The whole world is spinning.
I can smell rain on the air.
*
“You promised she was safe. I’d never have left her otherwise. You swore it!”
Ordinary Girl (The Dark Dragon Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
