by C. S Luis
“I had a vision of the girl you took captive. She could read minds like me.”
John's eyebrows lifted above his wide eyes. “You saw all that?” I nodded slowly. He lowered his head and folded his hands together on his lap. “They're called mindsifters. Or mindbenders,” he admitted. “And she was one of a few who escape the Company thirty years ago.”
“Escaped?” I asked. Now the place was starting to sound like a prison.
He nodded. “They were products created by the Company. There was a fire, and a lot of equipment and research was lost. As well as quite a few company products.” Apparently, I still looked completely lost, because he added, “The Company also dabbles in creating new lifeforms to help the human race develop possible cures for diseases like cancer and HIV. They've successfully created suitable solutions for lost limbs, body replacements, and organ transplants. Dr. Nicholson is one of the top research scientists in that department.”
“So he's definitely important,” I said.
“Yeah, he is. The Company has achieved a lot of successful accomplishments because of him. And they continue to progress…” His gaze roamed across my room for a minute before he looked at me again. “The girl you saw. She was the only one left of her kind. And now there's you. But you are unlike anything I've ever seen. You're… different. Extraordinary…” He leaned toward me again. “I can't believe I'm telling you all this. But you're nothing like her.”
“It sounds like I'm a lot like her,” I replied. “She can read minds. So can I.”
“No, she was created in a lab, just like the rest of her kind. I was trained to bring them back to the men in the lab coats, as you put it. That's what I do. Now you know.”
He stared deep into my eyes, the dance of gold specks expanding across the green of his eyes. I wondered if he actually felt the difference when that gold sparkled. John leaned forward toward me even farther and touched my cheek.
“I can't deny what I feel when I look into your eyes or when I'm close to you,” he told me. “You give me strength and make me weak at the same time, and still, I just want to be near you.” He laughed. “I know how that must sound. But it's what I feel. I don't understand what this is or what's happening to me, but I know I don't want it to stop…”
He took a breath, then his eyes flashed again when he exhaled. “You're afraid?” he asked me, as if he'd just found that growing sensation inside me and it pained him. “If I scare you, I won't say any more. As hard as it is to stay away from you, I will, if that is what you wish…” His brows drew together, and I felt the tentative hope flaring inside him that I might tell him to stay. “Is that what you want?” he asked.
“No.” I said it quickly and without thinking, which definitely surprised me. “I think I'm only afraid because I feel the same way,” I admitted. “I don't understand it. I've never met anyone like you before. I feel safe with you. I just met you, but you make me feel… protected. It's strange.”
“No, it's not,” he replied.
“I'm glad you were honest—”
Then his lips were on mine, and my heart pounded in my head again. I had to tell myself to breathe, even as I felt the warmth of his soft mouth against my own. Then I saw an image of us in his mine; he was holding me in a tight embrace, vowing to protect me. Now, it seemed, the hunter had become the defender.
“Dinner!” Joseph's voice startled us both. I pulled away and rose from the bed to face the door just as it swung open. Joseph poked his head into my room, and John leaped to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. He looked like an entirely different person when he blushed in embarrassment.
“What are you two up to?” Joseph asked with a wide grin.
“Claudia was showing me her artwork.”
Joseph stepped into the bedroom and around us toward my art table to flip through the scattered pieces—a few pictures of the school, fruit bowls, and the portraits I'd done of the assistant principals, Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez.
“Wow. I'm impressed, Miss Belle.” Joseph acted like everything was fine and normal, but I couldn't stop thinking that he already knew what John was trying to hide from him.
John glanced at me and tried to smile, but he was too nervous and embarrassed by Joseph's interruption. I wondered why. “Uh… did you say dinner was ready?” John asked.
Joseph turned and walked across the room again to stand right in front of John. Then he put a hand on his fake nephew's shoulder. “Yes.”
John pushed his hand away and moved past him, then gestured for me to step into the hallway first. They stayed behind in my room for a bit longer, and I glanced back to see John motioning to Joseph to stay back. Joseph scowled, clearly upset by something. Then John joined me in the hallway.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“It's nothing,” he replied with a smirk. “He's just being Joseph.” I had no idea what that meant, but I doubted John would explain it any more than that with Joseph standing right on the other side of my door. Then he grabbed my hand and had my undivided attention again. “I'm going to ask you something,” he said. “I want you to consider it first before you dismiss it or answer.”
I tried to pick his mind, but he'd already turned the dial on his watch again to block me out. “Ask me what?” I said.
John only smiled and moved toward the top of the stairs. “You'll see.”
I followed with Joseph, who stepped right in front of me as we walked. Then he stopped, and I almost walked right into him. “Please,” he said. “After you, Miss Belle.”
I moved to the stairs first.
John turned back to frown at him, then grabbed my hand. It surprised me, but I let him lead me down the steps, and I had no idea why or how I still felt so calm and at peace with it.
When we stepped into the dining room, John and Joseph reached for the same chair. Then Joseph seemed to realize his fake nephew's intentions, and when John pulled the chair back, he gestured for me to sit in it. I'd wanted to sit at the other end of the table, but I couldn't just tell him, 'No, thank you.' So I took the seat reluctantly, feeling Joseph's gaze on me from where he'd picked a different chair across the table. I couldn't read his mind or sense any kind of emotion coming from him. That didn't make his keen observation of me any less noticeable.
Then Michael joined us at the table he'd already set. The man had made chicken casserole with buttered bread, green beans, corn, mashed potatoes, and gravy, but he'd bought the apple pie for dessert.
Joseph did his part by opening the bottle of red wine and pouring a glass for Michael first and then himself. John grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and filled my glass, then his own.
Dinner was quiet—except for Joseph and Michael talking almost nonstop about school. I didn't pay attention to any of it, thinking instead about what John had revealed to me and the truth of who he was. If he trusted me enough to tell me all that, maybe I could trust him with my own secrets, though I didn't think I had nearly as much to reveal as he did.
Michael and Joseph seemed far too busy in their discussion to even glance in our direction. Michael brought up the repairs Milton needed, asking Joseph for his opinion on how to approach the district for funds. They talked, and I drifted until I felt John's hand touch mine. A surge of energy raced up my arm; my first thought was that he'd turned his watch's dial down enough for me to feel a little more from him. I felt him connecting to me, but his specific thoughts remained a blur. How did he do that?
“I can feel you,” I whispered to him, “but I can't hear you. How does that watch work, exactly?” John glanced across the table. We were still essentially being ignored.
He pulled up his jacket sleeve just a little, exposing his wrist and the watch under the table. The dial was movable, the head looked like it came loose, and the clear face revealed all the inner mechanicals that made it look like nothing but a normal timepiece. It was beautiful, with silver along the outside of the face and gold on the inside. Every piece of it looked old, but now I knew it wasn'
t anything like what it pretended to be.
“The dials have different frequencies,” John whispered. “They each perform a different function.” I reached out to touch it, and when I did, the dials moved rapidly. John pulled back his wrist a little and adjusted one of the dials again.
“I don't want to break it…” I said softly, glancing sideways at him. He grinned, and I blushed.
“You won't. I just lowered the frequency. It should be all right.”
I reached for it again, and the dials moved much more slowly this time. Whatever direction I moved my fingers over the watch's face, the dial moved in turn, following me left then right.
“You're amazing…” he said, watching this effect I had on his pretend watch.
I couldn't help but smile. “Why does it do that?” I asked.
“Your energies are off the scales. It's designed to read surges, circuits, and sources of energy. All kinds…” His whispered softened even more, and he blinked at the watch for an odd few seconds of seriousness.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he whispered.
He looked so lost when he glanced up at me again. I lifted my hand and hovered it just above the fork beside my plate, then I checked to make sure Michael and Joseph were still too busy to pay attention. John shot me a curious frown, and I lifted the fork from the table without ever even touching it. It was just a parlor trick. My father had done the same thing to impress his co-workers; people thought he was some sort of a magician. The best part was when I made the napkin move and walk around the table like a tiny person. Then it danced with my fork.
“My father used to do this for me when I was a kid,” I said. Still, I vividly remembered him being ashamed of the exact same thing when he did it at work. That was the one and only time he'd ever brought me into the office with him, and I'd never gone back.
John smirked, then snorted, and we both burst out laughing. Of course, it brought us all the unwanted attention from the two men sitting on the other side of the table. I grabbed the napkin and John grabbed the fork. We both smiled as Michael and Joseph studied us, then they went right back into their conversation and drinking up all that wine. I couldn't help giggling again, and apparently, John couldn't, either.
The next time I looked at Joseph, my gaze met his. I didn't think John noticed at all; he seemed to be having more fun than he'd had in a long time, which was probably true after everything he'd told me in my bedroom. But it didn't make me stop laughing.
John pulled my hand into his one more time, and for a brief moment, I felt all his desire and longing. His eyes flashed in that golden dance again. “I don't want this night to end,” he admitted. Just hearing him say that made me tense up again. “Why are you scared, Claudia?” he asked. “Don't you trust me? I've been nothing but honest with you. I can't hide anything from you, and I don't want to. I want you to trust me.” His brows drew together in pain as he studied my gaze. “I'm not going to hurt you. Let me prove it to you.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering how he'd ever prove something like that. “Why?” I asked.
He cupped my cheek. “I want to be close to you. I'm falling for you.”
Now I had no idea what to say. I closed my eyes, feeling his energy connect to mine, and I knew he'd told me the truth. Only when his hand pulled away from my cheek and the connection faded did I open my eyes again.
“Mr. McClellan,” John said. Michael and Joseph stopped talking to look at us in curiosity. “I wanted to ask, sir—”
“Please, John, call me Michael.”
I tapped my foot against John's leg, trying to stop him from whatever he was about to do. He grinned at me and grabbed my hand again, curled his fingers around my palm with a tight squeeze. My cheeks burned.
“Michael, with your permission, I wanted to ask if I could take Claudia to prom.”
That was the last thing I'd expected. I blinked up at John, completely speechless, but he didn't look at me. He just held Michael's gaze, and even Joseph looked entirely puzzled.
Milton's new principal cleared his throat and spilled his wine all over his lap. “Excuse me,” he said. He put the glass down and wiped his pants with the table napkin. He forced a smile, clearly unhappy with John's request. I still couldn't hear anything from his mind through the aggravating distortions.
“Well, that would be up to Claudia, John. Of course, I would have no problem at all with you asking her or, for that matter, actually taking her.” Michael looked at me, and now I was on the spot. All three of them waited for me to say something, and then a loud wave of thought burst through the distortion coming from Joseph.
'He's never been interested in any girl as much as this one. If he compromises this assignment, he'll be explaining that one to Dr. Nicholson all on his own. Then I'll end up being the one who has to clean up the mess.'
Now that I'd heard Joseph's thoughts, apparently, I didn't know what to do. I got up, then looked down at John. He frowned in concern, obviously not wanting me to leave. He wanted to say something, but he sat rigidly in his chair and waited. With Joseph and Michael watching, I guessed he didn't want to reach out to me for them to see what happened when he did.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm going to bed. I'm tired and… I'm just not feeling well today. Excuse me. Nice meeting you.” It didn't make any sense at all—especially when I'd already met them—but I left the table and ran up the stairs. When I got to my room, I closed and locked the door behind me, waiting for the sound of footsteps coming after me. There were none. For a second, I was relieved. Then I couldn't figure out why I'd just run away.
Did I want to go to prom with John? No. Did I like him? No. Yes. A little.
“Oh, god,” I groaned and rubbed my face. “What's wrong with me?”
Chapter 21:
The Mysterious Quentin
I tried to reanalyze what had happened downstairs. Joseph obviously suspected something. John's interest made him suspicious, and the man had been thinking about cleaning up the mess. I had a feeling that was me.
The weirdest thing was that I'd picked up on Joseph's thoughts even though he'd been wearing his own version of John's strange watch. Did I also have the ability to make it through their devices? If I did, I had no idea how to control it. Then I wondered if I should even tell John at all about hearing Joseph's thoughts. He trusted Joseph. Would he even believe what I told him?
I must have sat in my dark room for an hour before I heard the front door open. Then nothing. Finally, footsteps moved slowly up the stairs. My first thought was that Joseph was coming for me, and I jumped under the covers like a scared little child hoping the boogieman wouldn't find her hiding.
I peered from underneath the sheets and clearly saw a shadow stop outside my closed door. It stayed there for a moment, then moved on. Another door at the end of the hall opened, the hallway went dark, and the door closed again. Throwing the sheets back, I realized childishly that it had only been Michael, and as I lay there, I watched a breeze push back the curtains and smelled the scent of pine wafting into my room.
For a long moment, I lay there on my side, watching the curtain move, catching a few stars in the visible night sky. John had said there were more people out there like me who could read minds and move things with their thoughts. The idea both delighted and terrified me. John had also revealed that he'd been responsible for capturing most of them. So why hadn't he done the same with me? I got it that he'd never felt whatever pull existed between us with anyone else, but I still didn't know why—or why he still hadn't told Joseph about any of it. Maybe he was trying to keep this Dr. Nicholson from finding out about me. I still hadn't decided whether or not I'd ask John about this mysterious doctor.
I blushed just thinking about talking to John again. My god, what could he be thinking right now after I'd left him at the dinner table in a panic? It hadn't been because of John. I'd left because I'd felt Joseph's animosity toward me, and it made me more than a little wary. I wanted to
call John and try to explain, but he might not be able to talk. He might have someone listening in on all his conversations. It wasn't like he was a normal high school guy whose parents mostly respected his privacy. At least I didn't feel so alone now. Then I remembered that I'd never actually gotten his number.
How would that conversation go, anyway? 'Hey, John, I somehow read Joseph's thoughts, and he doesn't like me. He's thinking about having to clean up your mess if you don't do your job, and I'm pretty sure he was referring to me.' What would he even do after hearing something like that? What could he do?
I thought I wouldn't ever be able to fall asleep, but after what felt like hours of lying there, I finally did.
* * *
Something was chasing me through the halls. No matter where I went, the shadowy figure loomed closer and closer, spilling like black ink toward me. It emerged from every crack in the floor and dripped down every surface; its wavering arms reached for me from every direction. I knew it wouldn't stop until it had me, and I had no way to escape. Nowhere, really, to run.
The halls extended in front of me, long and endless, offering nothing for me to grab a hold of or use to hide myself. Those looming arms stretched closer and closer, then bony fingers wrapped around my arm. I screamed, but when I whirled around to face the shadow, I saw my young rescuer's face instead.
He smiled at me, and the warmth I'd felt that day in the pool Milton High didn't have once again consumed me. Now I was safe—protected. He took me in his arms and held me with a sigh, pulling me closer against him. “You are safe now, my pet,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes, blinking around my room after such a sudden awakening from the dream. Then I saw the figure sitting on my window ledge. My first reaction was to scream, but before I could, I realized there was nothing to be afraid of.
He was here. He'd finally come back for me.
“It was you that day, wasn't it?” I asked, nervously waiting for his reply. The room's shadows obscured his face, but I recognized him with every part of my being. I knew it was him.
