In my solitude, I manage to spend some time in the library trying to figure things out for myself, like Lex has been telling me to do, but I never really get anywhere because Magda always shows up and kicks me out if I'm in there too long. And then there's the fact that I still can't find my necklace.
I've searched everywhere, but it never turns up. I thought it might still be in the lake, but I'm not really that eager to go down there and find out, and risk the possibility of drowning in the meantime. I'm beyond frustrated. I can't wait for the picnic to be over with because, as soon as it is, Magda will be heading to Italy. She mentioned taking me with her, not that she promised or anything. Even though the idea of going on vacation with Magda is less than appealing, I'm desperate to get away from Price and all my problems. Maybe there's some international statute of limitations on them.
When the day of the picnic finally arrives I wake up filled with a horrible, all consuming dread, like the day I saw Jessie get into that SUV, only a hundred times worse. For a second, I think maybe it's just food poisoning, but I know better.
I dress in the outfit Greta picked out for me: a dark green fifties style halter dress, a pair of stacked espadrilles, and a mint colored cardigan. I stand in front of the mirror, the dread in my stomach doubling at the sight.
It's not that the outfit is bad. In fact, it's probably pretty stylish. It's just that I'm all too aware that I'm playing some sort of character, a walking talking doll.
I can't help but wonder what the point of all this is. Magda said a lot of things about upholding the Price legacy, but that seems too simple. I can sense something sinister in her requests, in the unnerving perfection of the Ladies Council.
After pulling my hair back with a gold barrette and swiping on some lip-gloss, I make my way downstairs, dragging my feet the whole time as if the delay would make a difference. Sunlight streams through the high windows, illuminating the marble tile flooring as I pass through the entryway. An odd sensation creeps along my skin, as if I'm being watched. I turn and find Ezra standing behind me in the shadows. He smiles slightly, his expression difficult to read. Even though I want to run far, far away, I stay put.
"Good morning, Ezra,"' I say, trying to sound nonchalant, all the while choking back the budding panic that he makes me feel.
Ezra doesn't say anything. He stares at me for a moment longer then turns to leave. Before he takes a step he looks back at me over his shoulder. I swear I see a flash of sadness in his eyes, but it's fleeting; gone before I have a chance to process it.
"I'll see you later, Evangeline," Ezra says in a quiet, deadly voice.
I don't have a chance to respond, because he's gone before I can blink. "Fuck," I whisper to the empty hall. Ezra is more dangerous than I thought.
Outside, Anders is waiting by the usual black sedan. I slip by him and take a seat in the passenger side before he can open any doors for me. The drive is fairly quiet, which is fine because I'm still trying to process the possibility that Ezra, like Lex, is also a vampire. I feel heat rise in my face at the memory of my last encounter with Lex.
"Are you hot?" Anders asks cutting into my sordid thoughts.
I flinch. "No, why?"
"Oh. Your face is all red, I thought you might be too warm or something." Anders flicks on the air conditioner and I just shake my head, mortified. "Okay," he says cranking up the air anyway.
We resume our awkward silence, but I'm suddenly ready to talk. I can feel the questions buzzing under my skin, all of the answers I have yet to find, and I know, deep down, that Anders has some of them. I clear my throat, searching my mind for a segue into the conversation that I know we need to have, but don't want to go in to...at all.
"So, you said something the other day, about how you were at the scene of the accident..."
"Evan, please, not now," Anders says, abruptly cutting me off. "This is not the time for that."
"Then when, when is the time?" I ask with a frustrated huff.
I can feel a hot, black anger swell inside of me. I am so sick of being told no, or not now, or I can't tell you. The edges of my vision cloud and I'm close to doing something I'll probably regret later. Right now, with the magnitude of power that's coursing through me, I don't care.
My blood sizzles and electricity pops under my skin; I wonder if this is what the strange woman meant by the darkness coming, if I'm the one to bring it. Before anything really happens, I feel hands on the side of my face. My first thought is Lex and I begin to feel the rage building inside of me reside; but then I remember, Lex is gone. He left me because I can't be with him, not yet. Another surge of anger swells in me, this time tinged with heartbreak and angst. I can feel myself barreling toward the point of no return.
"Come on Evangeline, don't be silly. We need you here with us right now."
I blink, the energy and the anger gone in an instant like a popped soap bubble, leaving me feeling momentarily exhausted. The car is stopped and my door is open; I look up and see Ezra standing next me. My head is turned and his hands are on my face. I jerk back as soon as I come to my senses.
"What the hell just happened?" I sputter.
"You tell me," Anders says from behind me. I turn to face him. His face a sickly white and his eyes are wide and frantic; a cell phone is clutched in his hand.
"Why did you call him?" I ask, jerking my thumb toward Ezra.
"I didn't," Anders replies gruffly. "I called Magda. She sent him." From the look on Anders' face he's as pleased with it as I am.
"Okay," I say slowly. "But why did you call anyone?"
Anders gives a humorless laugh. "Well, you went completely blank and then the lights started to flicker and the car stalled. My phone started to die, but I managed to make one call before it did."
I want to jump out of the car and run away, but Ezra is still standing there blocking my exit. Instead, I sink back into the seat and close my eyes letting the shame wash over me. How long will it be before I lose control completely? What will happen when I do? Maybe Lilian was right: I do need therapy. That's something else she must have "forgotten" when Ezra toyed with her memories that day.
"Alright, come on." Ezra grabs my hand and tries to pull me out of the car.
"What the fuck," I hiss, yanking my hand away from him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"I beg to differ. See, this car isn't working, but that one is," Ezra says jerking his thumb back to another black sedan parked a few feet away, "and we're running late for that bloody picnic."
I let out a frustrated sigh and push him to the side before stepping out of the car. He is, of course, right. It's barely eight in the morning, and the picnic doesn't start until eleven, but I'm expected to be there early to help finish setting up.
I try to look tough as I saunter past Ezra, but I'm still feeling weak, and my shoes are way too high, so I stumble. Ezra catches my elbow to steady me, flashing me a wicked grin as he does. His touch makes my skin crawl in a way that feels entirely too good, but I let him help me to the car, feeling slightly dizzy the whole time. When we get to the car he opens the door and waits for me to be seated. Before going to the driver's side, Ezra leans in and presses two fingers to my neck.
I flinch. "What are you doing?"
Ezra smiles kindly. "Checking your pulse."
"I assure you," I say through gritted teeth, "that I am still alive."
Ezra chuckles and straightens up. "That's evident, but your blood pressure is through the roof. You need to calm down."
I respond with an icy glare, which Ezra seems to only find amusing. He shuts the door, walks around to the other side of the car, and gets behind the wheel.
"How did you get here so fast?" I demand.
"Hm?" Ezra glances at me, his hand on the keys in the ignition.
I roll my eyes. "How did you get here so fast? If Anders called Magda, and Magda called you, how did you get here in just a couple of minutes? We're at least five miles from the estate."
Ezra raises h
is eyebrows looking mildly impressed. "You're very astute. Much more than they give you credit for," he says, nodding his head toward the car where Anders still sits, probably waiting for a tow.
"You were following us, weren't you?"
Ezra just shrugs and starts the car. Before I can ask any more questions, he flicks on the radio and turns it up full blast. I could turn it off and try to make him answer all of my questions, but he surprises me by gently touching my arm. The instant he makes contact, my vision goes black and I slip into unconsciousness.
When I open my eyes again I'm lying on the couch in the church office. Mary Morris is standing above me looking worried.
"Oh!" she exclaims, stepping back, "you're awake! How do you feel? When Anders and that British fellow brought you in, you looked de...." she trails off. "Well, at least you're fine now."
I nod, too out of sorts to say anything. When I try to stand I feel a little off balance, but I quickly recover. I actually feel somewhat refreshed. I clear my throat. "What do you need me to do?" Mary looks at me uncertainly. "Look," I say gesturing to myself when she doesn't speak, "I'm perfectly fine. I just had a late night. Now put me to work."
I manage to force a smile, which seems to put her at ease.
"Yes, well, you did work awfully hard yesterday getting everything set up. Why don't you go to the kitchen and help Grace with the food," Mary says finally.
I give her another smile and step past her, heading for the door. When I saw Grace yesterday, it felt like she was avoiding me. Probably because whenever we were left alone she muttered some excuse and quickly left.
The kitchen is quiet when I enter. I take a second to lean against the counter with my eyes closed. I'm in no way equipped to handle this mountain of problems that seems to keep increasing by the second.
How am I supposed to control the power growing inside of me when I can't even understand it? Who can I trust when everyone around me has more secrets than I do?
I let out a hopeless sigh. All I can do is keep moving forward. If I can't control anything else, I can at least control my emotions. I've always been good at that; at least, I used to be good at it.
Ever since I arrived at Price, I've been a whirlwind of emotion, especially where Lex is involved. Now that he's gone, it should be easier for me to stay in control. Hopefully, I can at least keep myself from going nuclear.
With new resolve, I open the fridge and begin to sift through glass dishes of mayonnaise-laden salads, fluorescent colored Jell-O molds dotted with canned fruit, and trays of perfectly rolled deli meat and cheese. I place each tray on a wheeled cart so they can be taken out to the tables for the picnic.
"It's too early for that." Though her voice is soft, Grace startles me to the point where I almost drop the super-sized dish of macaroni salad that I'm in the middle of pulling out of the fridge.
"Grace. Hey," I reply a little breathlessly. I set the dish down on the stainless steel island in the middle of the kitchen.
Grace gives me a small smile, but there's something off about the way she's looking at me. Silence stretches on between us until it becomes too awkward for me to bear, which is weird because, whenever we're normally together, we barely speak.
"So, um, too early? For what?" I ask, rubbing imagined sweat from my brow.
"To take those out," she answers in her even, unemotional voice. "They'll spoil in this heat; we should wait until it's closer to eleven."
"Oh," I say, my usual brilliant comeback.
We revert back to awkward silence. I have no idea what's going on, but the tension between us is unmistakable.
"Grace?" I ask tentatively, "Did I do something to upset you? Because it seems like you've been trying to avoid me all week."
Grace takes on a pained expression. I brace myself for whatever it is I've done to cause her so much grief. After a moment, she shakes her head slowly, her eyes suddenly wet with tears.
"No, you didn't do anything," Grace says with a sigh. "I've just been going through a lot lately. My dad hasn't been easy to deal with since my mom, well...today is actually the anniversary of when...of when she left us."
I press my hand to my mouth horrified. "Oh my god, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
She waves away my apology. "You couldn't have known. Nobody around here ever talks about anything that doesn't have to do with the town social calendar or the weather."
Grace freezes and glances around as if she's afraid someone might be listening. I'm sort of shocked by her bitter tone, but I don't mention it. She only said what I've been thinking since I moved here.
"I shouldn't have said that. The Ladies Council has been giving me a hard time lately, too, about fulfilling my obligations. I just figured you wouldn't want to be bothered with all of my drama, so I guess, yeah, I've been avoiding you a little bit."
She takes a big gulp of air as tears quietly stream down her face. I feel like such a shitty friend, assuming that it was all about me and not even thinking for a second that that there might be something else going on to upset her. Grace has said very little about her home life and I can only imagine how hard things must be for her. I can't think of anything to say so I cross the room and pull her into an awkward, very brief, hug.
"Grace, if you ever need to talk or anything, I'm here for you," I say earnestly. "I'd like to think we've become friends over these past weeks. Awkward, mostly non-verbal friends, but still."
Grace gives a small laugh and blinks away the rest of her tears. "Come on, let's put these back in the fridge," she says gesturing to the covered dishes that have already begun to sweat. "We have a lot of setting up to do outside first."
After our little moment, Grace seems a bit brighter. She's more talkative than usual, filling me in on some of the latest Ladies Council drama that mostly revolves around Delia and her mother and their continuous, painfully polite, power struggle, and the still months away Apple Festival. I listen attentively but I couldn't really care less. With everything else going on in my life, a pageant seems pretty trivial.
"Why is that stupid festival so important?" I blurt out while Grace is in the middle of describing the current controversy over whether there should be a six-piece string orchestra or a brass band as the opening day evening performance.
Grace laughs nervously. "Well, it's tradition," she says biting down on her lip. "We're not really supposed to talk about it." Grace glances around to make sure that we're really alone. "Price was actually founded by a group of Pagans."
I start to laugh, because come on, Pagans? But Grace's expression tells me she's not joking. I shake my head in disbelief. "My family. Our families. Were Pagans? What, like witches?" I know that's an obtuse interpretation of the word, but all I can think about is Magda in a pointy hat hovering over a cauldron. It's so fitting.
Grace's eyes widen and she laughs nervously. "No, not witches." Her face scrunches up in thought. "At least I don't think so."
"Holy shit, Grace. You can't drop a bomb like that and not explain. What's the story?"
Grace leans against the counter and folds her arms across her chest. "Well, it's like I said, we're not supposed to talk about it. But," she rushes on, "it's not that big of a deal. The early settlers in this area basically worshipped nature and were really holistic. I'm sure you've noticed how beautiful and intricate the gardens at Magda's estate are. Anyway, we honor their tradition of celebrating the solstices, the equinoxes, and the harvest. Only we call them picnics, fairs, and festivals."
"Okay," I say slowly, "as strange as that sounds, I actually understand. It's basically what the Catholic Church did. But, why the pageant? What purpose does a bunch of teenage girls cat-fighting for a plastic crown actually serve?"
Grace smirks. "Because people like pageants," she says wryly. "They like to look at pretty girls prancing around in pretty dresses."
I nod in mock thoughtfulness. "It's all clear to me now," I say with a grin.
Grace shrugs and puts the last covered dish back in the fridge.
"Let's get outside before Mary Morris has some sort of fit because the checkered table cloths haven't been put out, or something equally as serious," she says dryly.
Outside, the day has already grown unbelievably hot. I had forgotten that today is the summer solstice until Grace mentioned it. I unfold tablecloths and lay them out on the picnic tables until I'm seeing nothing but red and white checkers. Grace has been recruited to help Anders string up paper lanterns. He's doing most of the work since he has about a foot on her, but she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I think she's really enjoying the view.
It's cute, but I was kind of hoping to get Anders alone. He's been doing a pretty good job of avoiding me all morning and I'm anxious to grill him about what happened that led to me waking up on the church office couch. Ezra is conveniently absent, which is pretty telling that he most likely did something to me back in the car that caused me to pass out.
While we set up, the rest of the Ladies Council is busy giving out orders and making sure that everything we do is up to their standards of unattainable perfection, all the while avoiding doing any actual work themselves.
Delia Holloway doesn't show up until we're almost done, so she doesn't have to do anything other than arrange the dishes of food that Grace and I finally brought out from the kitchen and fidget with the napkin display while making eyes at Anders who is oblivious to her presence. When Delia finally gives up trying to get his attention, she alternates between scowling at Grace and me.
I try to keep busy, but I can't help but look around for Josh. This doesn't seem like his scene, especially since he's on the outs with his family right now, so I shouldn't have anything to worry about. Still, the idea of running into him, and the inevitable confrontation that would be sure to follow, has me on edge.
I take a break from working to slip off my cardigan since I'm really starting to sweat. People are already starting to show up and mill about the village green where everything is set up. I use the commotion to my advantage to slip off unnoticed. Mrs. So and So's husband has taken over the massive grill and the air is thick with the scent of roasting processed meat. The smell is making my mouth water, a reminder that I haven't eaten yet today.
Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) Page 19
