Transcendence t-1

by C. J. Omololu

  Griffon slides his fingers through my hair, giving me a wicked case of the shivers. “Despite the fact that we can’t pinpoint anything in particular, I’m more convinced than ever that we need to be careful.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I say. “Unless you want to meet me every single day after school.”

  Griffon grins. “You say that like I haven’t thought about it.”

  I look up the street, but I don’t see his motorcycle anywhere. “Did you drive?”

  “It’s around the corner. I figured it wouldn’t help my case much if your dad saw me parking the bike out front. Are we really going to meet Rayne?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I answer. “But not up on Haight. She told me about a bonfire out on the beach tonight—want to go?”

  “Ooh, lying to your parents now?” Griffon smiles, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What happened to the straitlaced, cello-playing girl I used to know?”

  “She’s decided that she needs to get out more,” I answer. “Plus, it’s not a complete lie. We are meeting Rayne, and I do have my phone. Maybe there will be ice cream—who knows?”

  Watching the storefronts whizz by through what I’m quickly thinking of as my helmet is such a different experience than riding the bus home from school every day. As we stop for a light in front of Peet’s Café, I feel like waving into the lit interior so that everybody can see that I’m not just the schoolgirl on the city bus anymore. So much has changed in such a short time.

  As we get closer to the beach, the air becomes heavy with moisture, and I can taste the salt on my lips as we drive. At the end of the road, Griffon turns left, and the ocean stretches into the horizon beside us as we ride down the hill, parallel to the water. Up ahead of us, shimmering spots of orange blaze as weekend bonfires light up the beach.

  Coming out of a smooth turn at the bottom of the hill, Griffon suddenly hits the gas hard with his right hand. The bike jerks forward, and I press my body tight against his back. I can hear the motor strain as we pick up speed, the lines on the road turning into a continuous blur as we race along the asphalt.

  For the first time riding with him, I’m afraid. Griffon takes his eyes off the road to glance over his shoulder for just a split second. Not wanting to turn my head, I peer around his arm until I can see headlights in the rearview mirror—headlights that are gaining on us so quickly it makes my breath catch in my throat. Whoever is behind us seems to be aiming right for the bike, and I will Griffon to go even faster.

  As he lowers his head into the wind, Griffon lets go of the bike with his left hand to pull my arms together on his chest, and I know he means for me to hang on. With my right hand, I grab handfuls of his jacket and bury my face into his back, my heart beating fast and the plastic facemask of the helmet fogging up from my breath. The whine of the bike rushes through my ears, but not loudly enough to drown out the sound of the heavy car rumbling behind us. I don’t dare lift my head to look, but I can tell by the sound and the way the headlights light up our silhouette that it is almost close enough to touch.

  It seems as though the car’s bumper is right at our back tire when Griffon eases up on the gas just the smallest bit and throws us into a left-hand turn so tight that we’re horizontal to the cold black street as we swing away from the main road. The car races past us, unable to make the turn at the last minute. Hitting the throttle once again, we speed into the west end of Golden Gate Park, the bike easing upright as Griffon slows down and pulls over into the grass at the side of the road.

  I sit frozen as he puts the kickstand down and turns the engine off. The sudden silence is deafening, and without the headlight, the darkness is only interrupted by the moon peeking through the trees.

  Griffon puts his arms around me and I manage to get off the bike, my knees buckling as my feet touch the grass. “Are you okay?” he asks urgently. Gently, he unclips the strap and lifts my helmet off. I manage a brief nod before I start shaking.

  “Son of a bitch!” Griffon yells into the darkness. He slams his helmet to the ground and paces a few short steps in front of the bike. The force of his anger is almost visible as my eyes adjust to the dim light, and I’m glad that it isn’t directed at me. “I can’t believe she’d pull something like this. What the hell is she thinking? Dammit!”

  I stand motionless, willing my heart to stop pounding and brush away the wet spots on my cheeks. We’re fine. We didn’t crash. As long as I keep telling myself that, the panic will ebb to manageable levels. “What happened?”

  His breath is coming quick and loud as he kicks at the wet grass. “Her car was behind us. It started coming up so fast, too fast to be an accident. She was trying to run us off the road.”

  I lean back so that I can see his face in the silver light. “You think it was Veronique?”

  “I’m sure of it,” he says quickly. “She must have waited for us outside of your house and followed us here. It would have been so easy to make it look like an accident—all she’d have to do is bump us from behind. If we’d gone down at that speed…” He shakes his head violently and shouts into the trees. “Stupid!”

  After a few moments, Griffon calms down, the only visible remnant of his anger is the way his fists clench and unclench as he paces. “I’m so sorry,” he says. He grabs my hand and presses it to his lips. “I totally let my guard down.”

  I close my eyes as I lean on him, feeling the strength of his energy as it flows between us. “It wasn’t your fault,” I say quietly. “You got us out of it.”

  “But I shouldn’t have gotten us into it in the first place. I saw her headlights way back near your house, but I was enjoying the ride so much that I didn’t pay enough attention.”

  “Stop.” I reach up and run my fingers gently through his curls to try to calm him. “You did everything right. We’re still here in one piece, aren’t we?”

  “For now,” he says, his eyes shining with anger. “I won’t let this happen again, I swear to you.”

  As comforting as it is to know that he’d do anything to protect me, the thought chills me to my core. Pulling Griffon to me, I wrap my arms around him and will him to let it go.

  After a few seconds, he leans back. “Hang on,” he says, looking into my eyes. “When you started speaking Italian with Veronique tonight … were you touching her?”

  “I think so. She put her arm around me, just to give me a hug.” I think about the look on her face when I started speaking Italian. Giacomo’s mouth was hanging open in shock, but she didn’t seem surprised at all.

  “Oh, God. That’s why, then.” Griffon looks back toward the main road. “When you touched her, Veronique must have been able to see that you were remembering—you don’t have the skills to block out her senses yet. Now she knows that your awareness is returning.”

  I search his eyes in the dim light. “So what does that mean?”

  His eyes narrow and he swallows hard. “It means she knows you’re Akhet now. You remember your connection to her. And now there’s no reason for her to hold back anymore.”

  Twenty

  “Do I even need to ask where the two of you have been?” Rayne squeals as we make our way slowly across the cold sand.

  “Probably not.” I glance at Griffon walking beside me, holding tight to my good hand. He wanted to go straight home, but I managed to convince him to keep going toward the beach. We lost the car, and they don’t have any idea where we’re going. A bonfire on the beach is probably the safest place in the city for us right now, and all I really want is to be with him, far from runaway cars and rogue Akhet. I’ll tell Griffon everything I know about Veronique. Tomorrow.

  “I’ll bet. You should see how red your face is.” She grins at me and gives me a quick hug. “I’m just glad you’re here. Gabi’s over there talking to some guy from Roosevelt.” Rayne makes a face. She thinks all guys from Roosevelt are snobs.

  There are probably twenty people scattered around the sand, some sitting on blankets in the shadows, others standing in kn
ots close to the fire, the flickering flames casting a bright glow over their features.

  “The coolers over there have drinks in them, but I’m not sure there’s much beer left. I heard that someone’s going on a run, but I don’t know for sure.”

  Griffon looks down at where our hands join, and then at the cooler.

  “Go,” I say. “I’ll be fine here.”

  “Okay. I’ll check,” Griffon says with a tight smile, giving my hand a last squeeze before he walks over toward the fire.

  “I’m sooo glad you guys came,” Rayne says, jumping up and down a little. “How was dinner?” I’d told her that Griffon was coming over, but didn’t tell her why.

  “The usual. Kat came home buzzed and totally pissed off my mom. She did kind of deserve it, though.”

  “Do they like Griffon?”

  “Of course,” I say. “He’s polite to my dad and helped Mom clear the dishes. What’s not to like?” I watch as Griffon pulls a can from the cooler and begins talking to a small group of people near the fire, glancing back my way every few seconds. In moments they’re laughing in the easy way people do when they know each other well, and I wonder if they’re from his school. A girl with short pink hair reaches up and puts her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hug that looks uncomfortably friendly.

  Rayne follows my glance. “Interesting,” she says. “I heard that there are some kids from Marina here. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. He came with you, didn’t he?” She squints as she scans the group. “That guy in the black jacket is so yum. I’ve been watching him all night. Please, please, please let them be friends.”

  “Hmmm,” I murmur as I try to tear my eyes away from Griffon and the strange girl. A sour taste rises in the back of my throat as I force myself to turn from them. Griffon has a life completely separate from mine, I remind myself. Different school. Different friends. As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, it’s not like he began to exist the minute I showed up.

  “They had one beer left,” Griffon says as he reappears beside me. “Hold the cup and I’ll split it.”

  My emotions are so raw that I don’t say anything as he pours the beer into the blue plastic cup. I hate beer, but after everything I’ve been through tonight I feel like I can drink a couple with no problem.

  Never one to be shy about anything, Rayne pounces on him. “So what’s the story with those guys over there?”

  Griffon glances back at the group. “Just some guys from school,” he says. He grins at her, relaxing a little. “Anyone you want to know about?”

  “No,” she says too quickly. Rayne glances back toward the group. “Although if I did want to know anything about anyone, it might be the tall blond guy in the black jacket over there.”

  “Peter,” he says. “Good choice. Let’s see—runs cross country, in my calculus class, no girlfriend at the moment. Want me to introduce you?”

  “Definitely, please,” Rayne says. “Let’s go now.”

  They start walking toward the fire, but I hang back, not wanting to share Griffon, even with people who knew him first. I like being able to make up my own image of him, and watching him with his friends makes me realize how much I don’t know.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Rayne says, stepping back to grab me by the arm. “Come on, already. Don’t be drama.”

  I follow them to the fire, the heat immediately causing my cheeks to burn. Rayne’s smile is wide as she easily joins the conversation already in progress, but I stand just a half step back from Griffon as he laughs with his friends.

  Without breaking the conversation, Griffon leans back and puts one arm around my shoulders, drawing me forward into the circle. That one gesture alone is a statement to his friends, and they get quiet as they look at me expectantly.

  “Guys,” he says, “this is Cole. And that’s Rayne.”

  They’re nice enough as they say hello, mentally adjusting their view of Griffon as he stands with his arm around me. Griffon introduces the pink-haired girl as Alana, and while her smile is welcoming, her brown eyes are wary. She’s pretty in an edgy way, with heavy eye makeup and a tiny nose ring that glitters in the firelight. The way her light hair contrasts with her dark skin makes her look otherworldly, and I immediately feel dull and boring—with hardly any makeup or extra piercings, I’m the picture of an aspiring cellist with no social life.

  Alana holds her cup close to her chest and points one heavily ringed finger at me. “You go to Pacific, right?”

  I nod slowly.

  “So how did you meet our Griffon?” The “our” in front of his name is not lost on me.

  “I picked her up in London,” Griffon answers for me.

  I laugh quickly while Alana raises her eyebrows. “London? Really.”

  “Yep. London.” I smile at him and take a sip from the cup. Our cup. The one we’re sharing. I hand it back to him just to make sure Alana notices that fact.

  I spend the rest of the conversation trying to avoid Alana’s eyes as she seems to track my every move. Rayne manages to find something in common with Peter, and the two of them step back from the fire to go sit on the concrete retaining wall at the end of the beach.

  “Want to walk?” Griffon asks, gazing out at the shimmering ocean. He reaches back with his hand out and I take it, running a few steps to catch up with him. Away from the fire, the air is colder and the noise from the crashing waves is louder.

  We walk down the beach just at the edge of the water, hearing scraps of conversation and shouts of laughter from the bonfires as they’re carried by the breeze. Griffon bends down as a wave recedes and wipes the sand off something before handing it to me.

  I look at the perfect sand dollar and run my hand over the smooth edges before putting it carefully into my pocket. The beach is littered with broken ones, but a whole one is always a treasure. “Thanks,” I say, leaning into him as we walk.

  There’s a big log a few yards down the beach, and Griffon pulls me down onto it so that I’m sitting in front of him. I lean back, enjoying his warmth as we watch the surf pound the beach. I feel Griffon shift as he looks back toward the bonfire.

  “Rayne seems to be pretty happy,” he says.

  I glance back to where I can see their silhouettes still sitting on the wall. “Thanks for introducing them,” I say.

  “Peter’s a good guy.”

  We sit in silence for a few more moments, until I can’t hold it in any longer. “Do you know Alana from school?”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” he says. I can feel his heart beating as I lean into him. His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “Actually, I, um … used to know her sister.”

  “As in ‘know,’ know?” I get a sinking feeling, wondering if she’s as pretty as Alana.

  “I suppose. But it’s not like she was my girlfriend,” he adds quickly.

  “You mean you slept with her?” I ask. I turn around to face him so that I can see his eyes as he answers.

  He pauses, but won’t meet my gaze. “She goes to college down in Santa Barbara and came home last summer for vacation.” He suddenly seems older again, more mature than any guy of seventeen has a right to be. “Look, I didn’t lie to you,” he says. “I don’t go out with girls my age. Nobody in high school, anyway.” He lowers his eyes and bites his bottom lip. “At least, I didn’t.”

  Despite the fact that this makes my heart race, I say nothing. Griffon leans in to kiss me, but I pull back just as his lips brush mine.

  “Sometimes I think you just want to be the handsome prince,” I say, studying the rough bark of the log. I haven’t really thought any of this through, but I suddenly know that it’s exactly how I feel.

  “Um, thanks?” he says uncertainly.

  “Not thanks,” I say. “It’s like I’m some kind of damsel in distress and you want to be the one to rescue me.”

  Griffon puts his hand over mine. “You’re right. I do want to rescue you,” he says. “But not because I think you can’t handle things on your own
. It’s for my own selfish purposes.” He leans in and kisses me again; the hunger he feels is almost visible in his touch. The vibrations that exist between us are like background noise now—so constant that they’re just an extension of him.

  I let myself melt into his body, my hands traveling up his thighs to pull his hips toward me, causing Griffon to inhale sharply. I wrap my legs around his waist and unzip his jacket, sliding my cold hands inside. I can feel the outline of the ankh pendant underneath his shirt as I explore his torso, my fingers tracing the muscles under his warm skin. We stay like that for what seems like hours, tasting and touching, and I’m grateful for the limitations imposed on us by being out on a wet, cold, public beach. If we’d been safe in his room on his big, wide bed, I’m not sure that I’d be able to say what I know I should to keep things from going too far.

  As we sit listening to the waves, I feel peaceful inside, like I’ve finally found what I’ve spent years looking for. School doesn’t matter. The cello doesn’t matter. Even not playing the cello doesn’t seem to matter.

  “It makes a difference, doesn’t it?” I say. “Knowing you’re going to do it all again.”

  “In a way,” Griffon says cautiously.

  “I mean, what if something bad did happen? It would suck for the rest of this life, but we could find each other in the next life and start all over again. There’s got to be a way to leave a marker to follow the next time around.”

  “It doesn’t really work like that,” Griffon says, a hint of sadness in his voice. “There’s no guarantee that we’ll even be back together in the same century—forget about the same continent.”

  “What about all those stories you hear about people who are destined to be together? Who find each other again because it’s fate?”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Griffon leans over to kiss my neck. “There are no guarantees you’ll find the people you were with before, even though technology does make it easier to find other Akhet.”