Haven

by Kristi Cook

  “Sounds a lot better than ‘dusk,’ I guess,” I finally said, turning my attention back toward the sky. I could just make out the first twinkling star, directly above my head. I stood up and reached for my bag. “I should go.”

  “Please don’t.” He was beside me now, reaching for my hand. “I want to apologize for ditching you like I did last weekend.”

  I shrugged, pulling my hand from his grasp. “Really, it’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I had some important work to do, and it couldn’t wait.”

  I finally gathered the courage to look up at him, and my breath caught. His eyes were more darkly shadowed than before, as if he was in desperate need of sleep. He looked terrible, actually.

  “You look exhausted,” I said, my initial annoyance replaced with worry.

  “I haven’t had much time for sleep,” he answered.

  “What are you working on that’s more important than sleep?”

  He just shook his head. “I can’t explain it.”

  I decided to press the issue. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  Surprisingly enough, that made him smile. “A little of both, actually.”

  I nodded, not quite sure what else to say.

  “This is . . . it’s hard for me, Violet.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s complicated, and I’m not sure what to do. I just didn’t want you to think that I was blowing you off.”

  That was exactly what I thought he was doing. “I should be more focused on school, anyway,” I said.

  His eyes met mine, searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

  “Why would you hurt me?”

  “Because that’s what I do,” he said, his voice suddenly sharp. “But not this time, not if I can help it.”

  What was he talking about?

  “You’ve had the vision again, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice softer now.

  Yeah, I had. Twice in the past week.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  “Well, nothing. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Besides, you said I shouldn’t worry. Stupid visions,” I muttered. They were nothing but a curse.

  “Your visions are a part of you, Violet. They’re a gift.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to see awful things happen over and over again to people you—” I cut myself off, realizing what I was about to say. People I care about. Including Aidan? That was crazy, totally insane. We’d gone out once. He hadn’t even kissed me.

  “Trust me, Violet, I have my own demons to slay.”

  My hand went nervously to my throat, my fingers closing around something cold. The crucifix—Lupe’s gift.

  “What’s that?” Aidan asked.

  “What? This?” I fingered the cross, laying it against my shirt. “It’s just a necklace.”

  “Are you Catholic?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Would it matter if I was?”

  “I guess not,” he finally said.

  “Someone sent it to me as a gift,” I said, clasping it protectively in my hand.

  “Well, that someone is smarter than you think,” he said with a low chuckle. “Not that it’ll do much good, but it’s a nice gesture, anyway.” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “Do you want to go to the café and get some coffee or something?”

  I did want to. But I’d just blown off my friends, insisting I needed to go to the gym and work out. How lame would it be to show up now with Aidan in tow, especially after the conversation I’d just had with Cece? Talk about humiliating.

  An inner battle waged inside me—my pride versus my desire to spend time with Aidan. Ultimately, Aidan won out.

  “Do you mind if we meet up with my friends there?” I asked, trying to see it as a compromise. “They were all headed over.”

  “Of course not,” he said.

  If they were surprised to see Aidan and me walk into the café together, my friends did a good job of hiding it. We joined them, pushing two tables together after buying some caramel mocha lattes and chocolate-chip cookies. Amazingly enough, it felt perfectly natural there, wedged between Cece and Aidan, holding his hand beneath the table.

  A little more than an hour and two lattes later, everyone began to drift away. Sophie left to study, Jack and Kate went off together, and Cece and Marissa headed back toward the dorms. Aidan and I made our way back outside and plopped down beneath the drooping branches of an old oak, as far away from prying eyes as possible.

  “It’s nice out,” he said, his legs stretched out toward me. A street lamp beside the sidewalk cast an oblong patch of light on the grass where we sat, making his hair look like gold.

  “Yeah, it feels good out here,” I said. The café had been hot and crowded. I still felt flushed all over.

  He nodded. Above us, the light flickered, then went out, leaving us in total darkness.

  I let out my breath in a rush. “Did you do that?”

  “Do you want it on?” With a hiss, it popped back on.

  I rubbed my eyes, seeing spots now. “No, it’s okay.”

  Out it went again. You’d think I’d be used to such things by now, but it still gave me chills.

  “So,” I asked, figuring I might as well get it all out in the open. “What else can you do? I mean, besides read minds—”

  “Not yours, not anymore,” he interrupted, and I smiled in self-satisfaction. I’d gotten really good at blocking my thoughts. I did it automatically now, whenever I was with him.

  “Let’s see . . . you can speak telepathically,” I continued, finally getting the lingo down, “and turn lights on and off. Does that make you telekinetic, too?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”

  “Oh, wait,” I said, leaning toward him, trying to make out his face in the darkness. “I forgot the thing where you manipulate feelings.”

  “I promised not to do that anymore, remember?”

  “And I’m supposed to trust you on that?” I asked, only half-kidding.

  “You can trust me, Violet.” His voice was silky smooth. Seductive.

  “Then why won’t you tell me what you were doing all week? Why the secrets?”

  “Because I can’t tell you.” He took my hand and drew me closer.

  “And that’s all you’re going to say about it?” I pressed, scooting a few inches closer, drawn to him like a bee to honey. I could feel his breath on my neck, and I shivered.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he teased, his lips moving toward my throat. I knew he was kidding, but there was an edge to his voice—something hard, almost angry.

  “That’s not funny,” I said on a sigh, willing his mouth closer.

  With a groan, his lips retreated. “Trust me, I know.”

  Disappointment washed over me. Suddenly cold, I pulled up my knees and wrapped my arms around them, studying Aidan’s face—in focus, now that my eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness.

  “What do you do when you’re not in class?” I asked. “I never see you around campus.”

  “I told you, I work in the chem lab,” he answered.

  “Yeah, I know. But I meant, like, for fun.”

  “Well, to me, the work I do in the lab is fun. Challenging. I read a lot too.”

  “Yeah?” Well, that was one thing we had in common, then. “What do you read?”

  “Classics, mostly. Some fantasy and science fiction.” He reached for my hand. “Anything else you want to know?”

  “What were you like as a kid?” I asked. It was hard to imagine Aidan as a kid. He seemed mature beyond his years, I guess you could say. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it, but there was none of that insecurity in Aidan, that awkward self-consciousness that most guys our age seemed to suffer from. He seemed pretty comfortable in his own skin.

  I heard him laugh—a low, soft rumble. “Me, as a child? I can barely remember, it was so long ago.”
>
  “It wasn’t that long ago. When’s your birthday, by the way?”

  “October ninth. You just missed it. When’s yours?”

  “March twenty-seventh,” I answered. “I won’t be seventeen till spring.”

  He nodded. “Anyway, to answer your question, I was arrogant and spoiled. Used to getting my own way. You wouldn’t have liked me very much.”

  “And what about dreams, aspirations? I guess you want to be a scientist or something?” Considering he liked to work in the chem lab. For fun.

  “I don’t think about the future,” he said, his voice sharp. He glanced off at the horizon, and then I saw him take a deep breath before he turned back to face me again, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s okay.” I gave his hand a squeeze.

  “It’s not okay,” he argued. “I . . . you must excuse me. I’m not used to . . . I mean, this isn’t something I’m in the habit of doing.”

  “What, talking?” I asked with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Our eyes met, our gazes locked—literally. I couldn’t look away, no matter what.

  A tiny burst of light caught my peripheral vision, and I looked up, beyond the treetops. A shooting star. I scrambled to my feet, and he rose to stand beside me. “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t turn to look. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, his mouth moving toward mine.

  For a moment time seemed to stand still. My breath came faster, my heart banging around in my chest, until his lips finally touched mine. An electric shock raced through my body, skittering across my skin as he kissed me—softly, gently, his hands against the small of my back. Rising up on tiptoe, I pressed myself fully against him, opening my mouth, inviting his tongue inside, moaning softly when I felt it skate across my teeth and touch my own tongue before retreating, teasing.

  And then the bells began to ring—indicating midnight, curfew time. I tried to block out the sound, but it was no use. His lips left mine, and I stumbled backward a few steps, trying to regain my balance.

  “How’d it get so late?” I murmured, glancing down at my watch, as if it might contradict the pealing bells. “Crap, I’m never going to make it in by curfew.”

  “Yes, you will,” he answered, reaching for my hand and pulling me back toward him.

  “It’s a good ten-minute walk back to the dorm,” I huffed. I could see the building in question, looming off in the distance. Way off in the distance.

  “You’ll make it. Come here.”

  “Oh, God, what’re you going to do?” I took a step away from him, shaking my head wildly.

  “Do you want to get busted? Or do you want to make curfew?”

  Five, six times the bells had chimed. Six more to go, and I’d get a demerit. “I don’t want to get busted,” I said in a rush.

  “Okay, hold on tight. And close your eyes.”

  My fingernails were digging into his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. I swallowed hard and nodded. And then . . .

  I don’t know what happened. I felt myself being lifted from the ground. I could hear the whistling of wind, somehow melded with the bells—a strange, kind of blurred sound, like nothing I’d ever heard before. It seemed like only a second or two had passed, and then there was a pop. He pried my hand away from his, and I was suddenly aware of the grass beneath my feet again.

  “Goodnight, Vi,” he whispered in my ear, and then he was gone.

  My eyes flew open, and there I was, right by the dorm. My hands shaking, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, just as the last chime sounded.

  “Good heavens, Miss McKenna,” Mrs. Girard said, startling me. “Whatever is the matter? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

  I couldn’t answer, couldn’t take another step. All I could do was sway dizzily against the doorframe, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  10 ~ Denial

  I spent the next two days in the infirmary. I claimed a stomach bug, because what else could I say? That I was hiding out from my boyfriend? Too freaked out to go to class? I wanted some time alone to think, to get my head on straight, and the infirmary was the only answer. Over and over again I relived those seconds, trying to figure out how we’d moved so far so quickly. It’s impossible! my mind screamed. There was no logical explanation, as far as I could tell, and that scared the crap out of me.

  I mean, psychic stuff . . . sure. I was used to it all by now, pretty familiar with the range of seemingly impossible stuff that people could do. But this . . . this went far beyond anything else I’d experienced at Winterhaven.

  Aidan was somehow different.

  Still, I waited for him to come by—to send a message or something. I figured he would wonder why I wasn’t in class, would ask around and learn where I was. But apparently he didn’t. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to come by and check on me. Which hurt, despite the fact that he was the reason I’d fled to the infirmary in the first place.

  By Monday night I’d convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing, that we’d gotten back to the dorms by normal means—at least, normal as far as Winterhaven went. After all, he’d been so casual, so cavalier about it.

  Once I finally made it back to class on Tuesday, Aidan wasn’t there. He was gone—all week. Without a message, an e-mail, a text—anything. By Thursday I was starting to worry. After all, he had looked exhausted over the weekend. Maybe he’d gotten sick; maybe something was really wrong with him.

  I could have called his cell, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. I even thought about reaching out to him telepathically, but I wasn’t sure if it worked from a distance. Even if it did, that just seemed too . . . intrusive. Even more desperate than calling him, really. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to be pursued, not the pursuer.

  But by Friday morning the curiosity was killing me. “Hey, Cee,” I called out as we were getting ready to go down to breakfast, “is there a student directory? You know, like with room numbers or something?”

  “Sure, why?” She reached up to her bookshelf and pulled down a spiral-bound book. “Here.”

  My stomach in knots, I took it from her and sank to the bed, flipping through the pages. “Thanks. I just . . . well, Aidan’s been absent from class all week, and I’m starting to worry.”

  “I thought everything was good between you two. I mean, after last Saturday . . .” She let the thought trail off with a shrug.

  “I thought it was too.” Gray, Aidan. There it was, along with his cell number and an address in Manhattan. East Hall, Room 327, it said. Not that knowing his room number was going to help me any. Girls weren’t allowed on the boys’ hall, and vice versa.

  Cece sat down across from me, on her own bed. “Did you ask Kate if Jack’s seen him?”

  “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just sick or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe he got your stomach bug. You could call the infirmary and see if he’s there,” she volunteered.

  “I guess I could.” But I wouldn’t. There wasn’t really a stomach bug, and if Aidan wanted to talk to me, he would have called. Frustrated, I ran my fingers over the directory’s cover, the word “Winterhaven” raised and bumpy beneath my fingertips.

  And then my vision tunneled and the book slid from my lap, clattering to the floor beside the bed. Oh, no.

  It was dusk, the sky a deep purplish gray. Leaves rustled in the wind, the breeze warm against my cheek. “Do it!” someone yelled. “Now!” I heard a scream, and realized it was my own. Closing my eyes, I took several deep, steadying breaths. I had to do it; I knew I was meant to. And then the picture sped up, fast-forwarded. Something smelled strange, salty, almost metallic, and I was suddenly filled with dread. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and saw blood everywhere. It darkened the grass around my feet, and somehow I knew it was Aidan’s. There he was, just a few feet away, lying still. Aidan! I screamed the name over and over again, as I fell to my knees there in the grass.

/>   And then I heard Cece calling my name, back in the dorm room. “Violet! Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

  I blinked hard, trying to look and sound normal before I spoke. “I’m . . . it’s okay, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You scared the shit out of me. You looked like you were having a seizure or something.”

  I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, wishing I could erase it, make it all go away. “It was a . . . you know, one of my visions. But I’m fine now.”

  Her brows drew together. “About Aidan? You yelled his name.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t deny it. What was the point?

  “Is he okay?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I’m sure he is. Whatever I saw . . . it wasn’t happening now. It was . . . I don’t know, months from now. Spring or summer.” There had been leaves on the trees, I remembered that. Everything had been green. That was all I was going to say, though; I wasn’t getting into details. No way was I telling her about the blood. I shivered, feeling like a knife had pierced my heart. Had I just foreseen his death? Aidan’s death? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to cry.

  I forced myself to go down to breakfast, to go to class, to pretend that everything was fine. And maybe it was. I nearly wept with relief when Aidan walked into anthropology as if nothing was wrong, taking his seat across from mine. He gave me a little half wave, the faintest smile on his lips. Totally nonchalant. My relief at seeing him disappeared, and I suddenly wanted to strangle him. Time to put the telepathy to good use. Where have you been? I directed toward him with a scowl.

  I saw him shrug. Around, came his voice in my head, along with the electrical buzz. It was so weird, this connection.

  Are you okay? he asked.

  Yeah, I’m fine. You’re the one who’s been MIA all week.

  Just busy, came his reply.

  I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat. He was keeping things from me. I knew it shouldn’t bother me, but it did. He was way too secretive, and it was driving me nuts. I was still freaked out by the vision, and I needed to see him. To talk to him. For real, not this crazy talking-in-the-head stuff. Can I talk to you after class?