I slide off the bed and sink down to the floor pulling my knees up to my chin, waiting for him to finish. Somehow being fractionally closer to the earth fills me with a small sense of relief.
Lex stands and sinks to the floor in front of me on his knees. He reaches out and cups my face gently. "I can't explain everything now and I'm so sorry, but we don't have time, you have to get back before someone notices that you've left the country."
"What?" I practically shout, yanking my face out of his hands. "Where the hell are we?" I pop up and rush over to the window.
Lex gives me a sheepish grin.
"Russia."
.
Now that the shock of how far I've managed to travel has worn off, I'm excited. I've never been anywhere outside of the country, except Canada a couple times and that doesn't really count. I watch the sun rise over the landscape of St. Petersburg and it's entirely surreal. I'm captivated by the sheer madness of it all.
"Can't I just stay, for a while?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at Lex.
Lex smiles in response, but it's a sad smile that gives me my answer. I cross the room toward him not stopping until the toes of our shoes are touching. I slide my hands up along his chest. I can feel the hard contours of his muscles through the rich fabric of his shirt; liquid electricity pools in my stomach. Despite all of the secrets and the lies and the confusion I feel, I can't deny how incredibly attracted I am to him, how much I still want him.
"I could just call Anders and tell him I'm staying with my friend, Jessie. He'll be pissed, but I'm sure I could smooth it over."
I watch in fascination as dark heat swells in his eyes. His hands find my waist, the flimsy fabric of my top crushes gently in his grip. Lex's gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.
"Evan," he says, his voice strained, "I'm sure we could find a way. Hell, I almost don't care if we do, if it means I can keep you here. But you have to go back. Immediately."
I know he's right but I'm not about to cave in that easily. The only time I don't feel like a complete mess is when I'm with him and I don't want to give that up.
"Then I'll go back. And I'll pretend I never left. And then I'll go upstairs and make another door and come back here." My voice is desperate and pleading and I hate myself for it.
Lex reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. "Evan, please."
"I know," I consent, even though I can tell that if I push just a little bit harder he'll give in. If we're caught I could lose him completely.
I turn away from him and let out a shaky breath. Lex closes the small space between us and threads his arms around my waist. I press myself against him, still feeling desire even though my heart is breaking. He sweeps my hair away from my neck, his lips quickly finding the curve between my neck and shoulder. A soft, satisfied sigh escapes my lips. Lex trails kisses up my neck until I can feel his breath against my ear.
"I'm so sorry I have to be away and that I haven't been able to contact you. But I've been working every second, trying to get back to you," he says in a husky whisper that makes my toes curl from pleasure.
I turn in his arms so that I can see his face. The electricity between us overwhelms me; I revel in the sensation.
"I'll be back soon. I'm closer than ever to finding the prophecy. Once I have, we'll know what we're dealing with. Until then, I need you to keep your eyes open. You have to be careful, there are dangers out that that you couldn't even dream of."
I stare up at him in disbelief. "Lex..."
"Let me finish," Lex says quickly, pressing a reassuring kiss to my lips. "Magda guards her secrets closely, but, if you dig deep enough, you can find out some things on your own. That house is full of information if you just look. Things that I can't tell you."
I sigh, frustrated. "I get it. I'll be a regular Veronica Mars."
Lex doesn't respond for a second.
"I don't get that reference," he says finally, his brow folding into a frown.
I can't help but giggle. Lex's frown melts into a huge grin. He reaches up and brushes my hair back from my face, his hand lingering to cup my cheek.
"Evan, promise me you'll be careful?" he asks, serious again.
"Yes, of course," I answer, biting down on my bottom lip. It's taking a lot of restraint to keep from asking the questions I want to ask. It'll only frustrate us both and I really do need to get back.
"And no more drugs," he laughs.
I roll my eyes. "Ugh, definitely not," I say, pressing my face into his chest to hide my blush.
"Hey," he says, leaning back so I'm forced to look up at him, "you don't need them. You're powerful on your own."
I turn away and step out of his embrace. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on making a door, or arch, or whatever it is. I need to leave quickly or I'll never go.
"Lex?" I say as I watch the air break into a shimmering veil.
"Evan?"
I twist my neck and look at him over my shoulder. "I love you."
"But you don't even know me," he whispers. The glimmer of hope in his eyes is unmistakable.
"It doesn't matter," I say, giving him a sad half smile, "I love you anyway."
Before he can say anything else I turn back toward what is now the clear image of an opalescent arch. When I look through it I can see the other side of the hotel room, but I know better. With one quick step I'm through the portal, my skin tingling as I pass under the arch.
The blossoming sunrise vanishes and I am bathed in moonlight. I inhale the thick, heady scent of night blooming flowers. It worked.
Chapter Twelve
Jessie keeps calling, but I don't answer. I'm not mad at her for staying behind at the party, at least not anymore, but I still don't want to talk to her. Every time I let her in I manage to fuck things up for myself. I have too much too deal with right now and my past issues aren't on the list.
I haven't heard from Josh, either, so I have no clue what he's thinking about what happened. Either he chalked it up to some drug-induced fever dream, or he's starting to piece it all together and it won't be long before the whole town knows how much of a freak I really am. I'm sure Delia would have a field day if the townsfolk came to break down the gates, pitchforks in hand.
I'm trying to get a grip on myself, but it's almost impossible. On top of my fear of being discovered there's the added humiliation of having told a guy I barely know that I love him. No amount of running or listening to my records can distract me from rehashing and overanalyzing that moment. Did I even mean it? In the darkest parts of my soul I know that I did, that I do. When I said it, it felt like the truest thing I've ever said.
Still, I can't help trying to rationalize it, trying to come up with some excuse for why I feel this way about Lex. My thoughts always come back to the same question: would I still love him if I hadn't met him right after my parents were killed? The answer is always yes. I know inherently that I would have loved him no matter what the circumstances were, in any lifetime, in any form. I know it the same way I know how to breathe without being taught.
But does he love me back? It's a lot to ask of a person any day, and our relationship is still so raw and new. I had purposely left before giving him a chance to answer. The truth is, I would have been destroyed if he hadn't said he felt the same way.
I hated thinking this way. I've never been the head over heels type and I've never relied on anyone, not for happiness or reassurance. Even praise from my parents, though nice, was never really necessary. I've relied almost entirely on myself and it's exhausting. To be able to place that burden on someone else would be a terrifying relief.
The endless circle of questions with no answers was driving me insane, so I've been throwing myself into working on preparations for the upcoming Church picnic. After staying out all night without telling anyone where I was, Anders was pissed and has insisted on driving me back and forth into town. We don't speak much, but it seems like he's always about to
say something. The result is a suffocating tension that I can't wait to escape as soon as the car pulls up alongside the plain clapboard chapel that serves as the only church in Price. We go through the same ritual every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.
It didn't take me long to discover that there are only two denominations among the townsfolk: those who go to church on Sunday, and those who didn't. The lack of diversity makes the smallness of the town even more complete.
The annual church picnic is a pretty significant event around here and apparently requires weeks of preparation. I spend most of my time in basements and attics sorting through decorations for the picnic and donations for the charity flea market that will be held in the church basement the week of the picnic. Weeks have passed since the night of the party, each day blending into the next until June somehow managed to sneak up on me unnoticed.
My only companion, besides Anders, who doesn't count, is Grace James. She doesn't talk much, which suits me fine. We usually go hours without saying anything to each other. Sometimes, I forget she's even there. That seems to happen a lot with Grace and people, not just me. The entire ladies council treats her like yesterday's garbage and she seems to just take it.
Earlier today, Mary Morris blatantly ignored her when we showed up at the library to go through boxes of dusty books that the library is offering up as a donation. Grace just shrugged it off, but it bothered me.
As we sort through moldy boxes I try to think of a way to talk to her about it. I've developed a haphazard system of sorting that starts with the book's overall condition. After a book is deemed fit it's sorted into a pile based on its time period, genre, author, and title. There are dozens of copies of the same book, mostly Jane Austen. Not surprising.
Aside from worrying about Grace and all of my usual drama, I'm actually having a pretty good time going through all the titles. Some of them are old favorites, but there are a lot of obscure books that I've never heard of. Anything that seems relevant to my search for information, I set aside. Luckily the history of Price is well documented and there are plenty of old history books on the subject in the donation boxes.
I'm leaning over a water-damaged box of encyclopedias, trying to find anything Price related, when I feel eyes on me. I look up to see Grace studying me intently. When she realizes that I'm watching her back she looks away quickly. Immediately I feel bad. All this time and we haven't had a real conversation; I had assumed that Grace wasn't interested in talking, but maybe I was projecting my own feelings on her. Turns out I'm just as bad as everyone else in this town.
"Uhm, Grace?" I ask tentatively.
I watch as she fumbles with a stack of Dickens' novels before slowly looking up. Her eyes, a startling honey color that I hadn't noticed before, are awash with fear and something else. Curiosity.
"Do you, like, wanna get some coffee?" I was planning on ducking out soon anyway to get some air.
Grace's mouth opens slightly and her cheeks flush. I have a painful flashback to freshmen year: split ends and braces and no filter. Maybe a slight goth phase. I stifle a sigh. Jessie was there to pick me up on the curb, literally, and I can be there for Grace.
"Grace?"
"Uhm, we have a lot of work to do." she says lamely. I suppress an eye-roll and go for a charming, inviting smile instead.
"C'mon. We're entitled to a break. There's a coffee shop across the street. They make the best iced lattes." Which is sort of true, the two times I've been in there.
"I don't know. I don't really drink coffee," Grace replies tentatively. I smile inwardly.
"Then, iced tea, iced water, whatever," I urge, already knowing she'll agree. I stand up and dust off my jeans.
"Let's go," I say with a hint of finality before turning and heading up the stairs and out of the musty basement.
I emerge from the library a few moments later and stand blinking in the late spring sunshine, waiting for Grace. For a second it seems like she is really that committed to her work and isn't going to join me. The tinkling sound of bells strung from the library door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see Grace coming out of the door, blinking, blinded by the sudden sunshine like I was.
I can't help the huge grin that splits my face and causes Grace's ever-present blush to deepen, a stark contrast with her luminous, pale skin. We make our way to Blossom I, a squat little brick building sandwiched between a dress shop and a music store.
Inside, the air-conditioning is on full blast, making a welcome reprieve from the breezeless day. Even though Grace said she doesn't really drink coffee, whatever that means, I go ahead and order us two iced mochas. I figure she could use it.
We sit in silence while we wait for our drinks to come. I watch as Grace alternates between fidgeting with the sleeve of her white button down shirt and the tip of her shiny dark ponytail. Usually, I would be the same way. Ever since my powers started to kick in, I've been oddly still, inside and out. The thought sends my fingers to the stone hanging lightly around my neck. I rub the pad of my thumb over the smooth surface leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
"That's pretty."
I look up, startled, to find Grace staring intently at my necklace. It gives me a funny feeling deep in my stomach, so I let the necklace drop back in place beneath my Titus Andronicus t-shirt.
"Thanks," I reply, adding a half shrug. I've been working on a cover story, involving an antique-shopping trip in Maine and a handsome Italian gypsy, in case anybody asks where it came from, but Grace doesn't press for details and I'm spared the lie.
The awkward silence is broken when the waitress comes and sets our drinks down in front of us. I take a long, grateful drag through the straw, rejoicing in the dark, strong flavor of coffee and chocolate slipping down my throat, the caffeine quickly infiltrating my blood.
Grace is more tentative, taking a small sip straight from the glass. Her eyes light up slightly. I stifle my grin and take another drink.
"So, have you always lived in Price?" I ask.
Grace looks up quickly, her eyes wide. Then she laughs, a short incredulous laugh, stopped short by her hand covering her mouth, and nods slowly before dropping her hand to her lap. I try not to be freaked out by her reaction, but it takes a lot of effort to keep my face composed. I know that I'm hiding a bucketful of secrets, but the people in this town are something else, something strange. I'm starting to wonder if maybe there are some things that I don't want to know. I take a deep breath and decide that my fear is minuscule compared to my need for answers.
"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" I ask Grace, throwing in a playful smirk for good measure.
The humor evaporates from Grace's eyes and she takes to fidgeting again. It takes all my restraint to not reach out and shake her, demanding answers. It occurs to me that my powers might be useful in persuasion, but I quickly stifle that thought. I want her to trust me, for whatever reason, and I know if I won her trust that way it would just be bad Karma all around.
"No. It's just, not many people who are born here ever leave," Grace responds after some thought. She swallows hard and takes another sip of her coffee.
"My mom left," I say carefully.
Grace bites her lip and nods, but doesn't say anything else. I drain my coffee and cleared my throat nervously.
"So, how long have you been on the Ladies Council?" I ask aiming for a neutral subject that might get her to open up.
Grace relaxes slightly, but she still sounds tense when she responds. "A little over a year."
I nod and swish the ice around in my glass. "How does one get on the counsel anyway?"
She tenses up again. Clearly, that was the wrong question. I'm ready to get out of here and back to the library when she surprises me by answering. "You have to be a member of one of the founding families. The oldest female is automatically on the council."
My eyebrows pop up. "Founding families?" Grace shifts uncomfortably in her seat, so I rush on. "Sorry, I should probably know more about this. Truth is, I didn't k
now anything about my Grandmother or Price until I came here to live after my parents died."
Grace's mouth falls open and her eyes go wide. It's my turn to shift uncomfortably. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes but I blink them away.
I take in a deep, ragged breath. "Anyway, if you don't mind explaining some of it to me, I'd appreciate it," I say lamely.
Indecision flits across Grace's face. She presses her lips together and nods once. "Yes, yes of course. Hm. Where to start?"
"How about the founding families?" I will my voice to stay even despite my eagerness. I already know most of the basic history of Price, at least what's available in public record since that's all I can find in the Price Estate Library, but I'm eager to find out if Grace knows more.
"Well," Grace begins, her voice taking on a new confidence as she falls into a familiar subject, "there were eight." I do a quick mental count of all the members of the Ladies Council. The numbers seem to add up. I nod and she continues. "When the town was settled it was decided that a council would be created, one that would be made up of the oldest female member of each of the families."
"How come Delia and her mother were at the meeting? Wouldn't it be only one of them?" I ask.
"Oh, well, Delia is set to take her mother's place once she turns eighteen," Grace explains.
I bite my lip to keep my jaw from dropping. "Why? I mean, why does Delia have to take over?"
Grace's brow deepens into a frown. "That's just how it works," she says simply.
"Care to elaborate?" I ask trying and failing to keep the frustration out of my voice.
"Delia's mother, Miranda, is not a blood member of a founding family. She just married in. Blood is thicker than paper." Grace gives a wry smirk, very uncharacteristic of her.
"Okay. So you can "age in" to the council?
"Yes, or you inherit your position. Like me." Grace's gaze drops to the table, her shoulders trembling from the tension in her body.
Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) Page 10
