Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1)

by Davis, Sophie

  “Nasty,” she muttered.

  Then she filled the same measuring cup with one ounce of water and used it to replace the brandy she’d just drunk. Just like old times, I thought. We used to raid her father’s liquor cabinet when we were freshmen and had no other way to get alcohol before parties. At least two or three bottles of vodka in that cabinet were entirely filled with water now.

  “Want to talk about it?” Devon asked.

  I chewed my lip and shook my head. If I started talking about the fight with my mother, it would lead back to my conversation with Mr. Wentworth, and there weren’t enough hours left in the night to explain it all.

  “Tomorrow?” Devon pressed.

  “Tomorrow,” I agreed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As a testament to our friendship, Devon agreed to pick up Mandy the next morning, but not before telling me I owed her dinner at First Wok, of course. While Devon was in the shower, I texted Kannon the Holloways’ address and suggested he not show up until after eight a.m., the time both the elder Holloways would leave for work. Devon’s mother poked her head into the bedroom and informed me that my mother had called me in sick to school and I should feel free to eat whatever I liked and watch whatever I could find on the television.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “No need for that. You’re welcome as long as you need. Just promise me you will call your mother once you’re up and moving. She’s worried about you.”

  “I will,” I promised, even though I had no intention of calling that fraud. A text maybe, I relented. I might be mad at her, but I wasn’t the only one who had been upset after our fight. And I wasn’t the only one visibly distraught over the news of Dad’s disappearance.

  Since there was no concrete proof Dad had met harm, I resolved to think positively. He was simply missing. Mr. Wentworth’s hired guns would find him. One of the PIs once managed to track down an AWOL witness in Bali; if he could do that, then surely he could find Dad.

  While Devon dressed and dried and straightened her hair, we watched our favorite morning news show, Good Morning America; and I told her about my plans to spend the day with Kannon. I briefly considered canceling on him. But he’d been so sweet and understanding the night before, and I really did want to see him.

  “What are you guys going to do?” Devon asked excitedly, barely managing to keep her hand steady and avoid poking herself in the eye with the mascara wand.

  “Not sure,” I said from my perch on the bed.

  “Whatever it is, I hope it involves a lot of tongue.”

  At that, I sent a pillow sailing across the room, narrowly missing Devon’s head. She laughed and made kissing noises in my direction. I rolled my eyes, secretly hoping she was right. The one kiss we’d shared was amazing, the kind that made your toes tingle and knees go weak. Exactly what I needed to rid my mind of the knowledge that my parents had spent eighteen years lying to me. They weren’t even my parents. Did they even know who my father was? From everything I knew about Aunt Sam, my birth mother apparently, she was a free spirit or, as my mother often said, a hippy. To Evelyn Andrews there was no word dirtier than “hippy,” except maybe “defendant” if she was in the middle of a trial. Aunt Sam liked her vices, and ultimately they killed her, so I’d been told. Now I wasn’t so sure. Something my mother said, “She died and you lived,” made me think there was more to her death than a drunk-driving car accident.

  “Here, I think this is yours,” Devon said, right before a white V-neck sweater hit me on the side of the head. The sweater was mine. Devon had borrowed it sometime during junior year, and this was the first I’d seen of it in over a year.

  “Thanks,” I told her, grateful she was such a kleptomaniac, since I failed to grab a change of clothes in my haste to get out of the house.

  “Have fun today. Be naughty. Call if you need me. I will keep my phone on.”

  She leaned over the bed and hugged me tightly. “Whatever happened between you and your mom, she will get over it,” she whispered in my ear.

  She might, I thought, but will I?

  With all of the Holloways safely out of the house, I showered and dressed in record time. I borrowed Devon’s makeup to cover the traces of my crying fit the night before and had just enough time to run her straightener through my hair before my cell phone rang. Kannon’s name flashed on the display.

  “Hey,” I said into the phone.

  “Hey, I think I’m here. I see your Bug.”

  “Down in a second,” I told him and hung up.

  Kannon’s black Jeep was indeed parked behind my VW when I emerged from the front door. I used the Holloways’ hide-a-key ― it was under a faux rock, so original ― to lock up behind me. Like a perfect gentleman, he hurried out of the driver’s seat and around the grill and had my door open before I made it across the front lawn. He didn’t hesitate when he wrapped one arm around my waist, sending jolts of electricity coursing through me, and kissed me gently on the mouth. The contact stung at first, but before long our lips were like magnets pulling us closer together. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon gum.

  “Good morning,” he whispered when he pulled back.

  “Morning,” I mumbled.

  Kannon helped me into the passenger seat and returned to his side of the car. He didn’t ask why I was staying at the Holloways’ and I didn’t volunteer the information. He told me about the calculus test he’d stayed up late studying for, while the local morning radio show played in the background. It wasn’t until we crossed the county line that I thought to ask where we were going.

  “It’s a surprise,” Kannon said coyly.

  “I don’t like surprises,” I replied.

  Kannon laughed. “Fine, I will give you a hint. There is a lot of water and parts of the place don’t smell so hot. We’ll be greeted at the door by tuxedo-clad women and men.”

  I looked down at my jeans and three-seasons-past sweater, then I glanced at Kannon, who wore jeans and a navy-and-red striped polo. Both of us were underdressed if others would be wearing formal wear.

  “Don’t worry; they won’t even notice our clothes,” Kannon assured me.

  Half an hour later, I found out he was right. The penguins that played outside the entrance to the Baltimore Aquarium definitely didn’t notice what we were wearing. They swam in their tank, oblivious to the slight chill in the air. We got there in time for their morning feeding and since we were the only patrons, the trainer let me throw a few fish to the penguins.

  Over my avid protests, Kannon paid for both of our entrance fees. Hand in hand we wandered past the shark tanks first, then the stingray bay, and into the rainforest. Kannon, as it turned out, fancied himself something of a tour guide and insisted on making up stories about how each sea creature came to be a resident of the Aquarium. Not only was his commentary entertaining, but it meant I didn’t have to talk much. I was immensely grateful. If I opened my mouth, all of the ugliness that had plagued the last twenty-four hours would tumble out and ruin the beautiful day.

  In front of a huge round tank filled with neon-colored tropical fish, Kannon stood staring wistfully as wetsuit-clad divers swam back and forth doling out the afternoon’s meal.

  “Have you been in the ocean since it happened?” I asked quietly.

  Kannon turned to face me, his green eyes heavy with sadness. He shook his head, sending one dark curl falling across his forehead. “No,” he said.

  “Are you scared?” I asked.

  He appeared thoughtful at my question, instead of perturbed like I thought he might. He seemed to consider his words carefully before responding.

  “Not exactly,” he finally said. “I love the water, the ocean especially. I don’t know. It just feels strange, like one minute I might be swimming and everything will be fine and the next I will find myself there.”

  Kannon didn’t need to elaborate on where “there” was; I knew he meant the underworld. I wanted to ask him more about his trip to meet the gods. Maybe his exper
ience would trigger something in my memory, and I too would remember my time in the underworld.

  At the risk of being nosey and interrogative, I decided to press the issue. “What was it like? When you woke up, did you know where you were?”

  Kannon said nothing, favoring tracing the path of a bright yellow fish as it swam past the glass before us. I feared my questions too intrusive. Who was I to demand answers about such an intimate experience on our second date?

  While matters of the heart and interpersonal relationships were not areas I knew much about, I doubted most relationships started out the way ours had. Our relationship was already progressing at a rapid pace. We knew things about each other even our closest friends and family did not. We shared a connection, bizarre and unbelievable as it was, that few could appreciate. Still, I didn’t want Kannon to feel like I was prying.

  “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” I said, reaching to place my hand on his shoulder.

  Kannon tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against my fingers. His gaze darted up to the crowd of elementary school children parading up the previously empty corridor. The children stopped and took several minutes to “ooh” and “ah” over the tropical fish before moving on. Once they were gone, Kannon took my hand and led me to a metal bench across from the tank. He ran a fingertip over the back of my hand, tracing the web of blue veins.

  “It was cold,” he said in a quiet voice. “When I woke up on the beach, it was cold. The sand was black and iridescent almost. Two moons, or at least what I thought were moons, were in the sky. No stars, though. One moon was bright white and beautiful. The other was red and made the water look like blood.” Kannon swallowed thickly, his face turned an alarming shade of green, and I wondered if he was going to be sick.

  “It’s okay, really. You don’t need to tell me,” I said.

  “At first, I just sat in the cold sand, shivering,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It was clear and I could tell that I was in a cove with cliffs surrounding me on three sides. In front of me the ocean stretched for what seemed like miles. I was alone, as far as I could tell, anyway. The only noise came from the waves crashing on the shore. Then a second person, an old man, popped into existence a couple of yards down the beach. He was wearing a hospital gown. He didn’t speak to me, and before I had the chance to ask where we were or what was going on, a woman my mom’s age appeared beside him. She started crying the moment she materialized, soft, quiet sobs. Next, a young boy, no more than four or five, arrived and nearly landed on top of me. He too started crying. I wanted to comfort him, but had no idea what to say.”

  I sat motionless as Kannon spoke, simultaneously horrified and fascinated by his story. The pressure on the back of my hand increased until he was pressing so hard it verged on uncomfortable. I rested my head on his shoulder again, lending him comfort and support in the only way I could think of.

  “Suddenly everything went hazy, as if out of nowhere a fog appeared. I couldn’t see the boy, the old man, or the woman anymore. I was blind. Not deaf, though. I heard the pops of more people, ten in all, as they landed on the beach. A horn blared in the distance, like when a barge docks, you know. Then a chorus of voices started singing this beautiful song in a language I didn’t recognize. Even though I didn’t know the words, I knew what I was supposed to do. The song put me under a trance or something. I don’t know exactly how to describe the feeling, but it was freaky. I got up and walked towards the water. The others did, too. I felt them moving around me. Before I reached the breaking waves, the fog became less dense and there was this boat. More like a gondola, really. A man stood at the helm.”

  Hermes, I thought, but didn’t want to interrupt.

  “He gestured for us to come aboard, using this staff that looked like pure gold. In retrospect, I should have been wary, or at least cautious. But I waded several feet into the water – it was warm, like bath water – and climbed on without thinking twice. The song was still playing; I remember thinking that it sounded like the ocean itself was singing to us, calling us home.

  “Once all ten of us were on board, the boat started gliding across the water, even though the ferryman wasn’t actively doing anything to make it move. The music continued until we were out of the cove. When it stopped, cold swept over me. Then I started to panic, gulping in huge swallows of air, but it was never enough. The little boy started whimpering again. The woman sank to the deck, sobbing and mumbling incoherently. The ferryman pointed at the horizon, and that was when I first noticed the island.”

  Kannon’s muscles tensed, as if he were back on that gondola heading for that island, instead of here in the aquarium with me. I felt his fear, but could think of no way to dampen it. Thank god, I don’t remember this, I thought.

  “I was so scared, and it felt like hours passed as I waited for us to dock on the island. When we finally did, the ferryman pointed at each of us in turn with his golden staff and had us form a line. I was last. One by one, he led each person into a dense forest, always returning alone. My turn finally came. I was crying.” Kannon laughed humorlessly. “I didn’t even care. My father always says, ‘Men don’t cry to show emotion - we break things,’ but I didn’t feel like a man. I felt like a child, and I looked like one in my stupid Abercrombie board shorts.

  “When my turn came, I followed the man into the forest, just as I’d seen everyone else do. Past the initial clump of trees, there was this huge temple with all these strange markings. Torches lined either side of the pathway, illuminating the stones.

  “It was even colder inside the temple. We entered this huge foyer and there were these double doors that stretched from floor to ceiling. The guide knocked three times with his golden stick and the doors opened all by themselves. Inside sat the Panel of Three. It was sort of like our courtrooms, where the judges sit on an elevated bench. The one in the middle was slightly higher than the other two. All three stared at me expectantly. I was too scared to say anything.

  “The guide spoke for the first time, in a language I didn’t understand. I caught my name, though. ‘Kannon Xavier Stevens,’ he said. Then, the Judge in the middle spoke. ‘Kannon Xavier Stevens, you have been brought before the Panel of Three so that we may pass judgment on your soul. You will be tried, weighed, and our decision will be binding.”

  The words chilled me to my very core. I couldn’t even fathom how scared Kannon must have been when that man spoke those words, and I was glad that I’d been a baby, incapable of grasping the meaning and the consequence.

  “The same Judge pointed to one side of the courtroom. There, taking up the entire wall were the largest brass scales I’d ever seen. They looked like the scales of justice. Glass rocks started to fall from these chutes in the wall onto either side of the scales. I had no idea which side was which, so I had no sense of how I was faring. It seemed to take hours. Once all the rocks were in place, the three men conferred in low voices, again in a language I didn’t know. When they were done, the middle judge spoke again. ‘Kannon Xavier Stevens, you have been chosen for a great opportunity. It is the decision of the Three that you should return to earth as an Egrgoroi.’ That’s when they explained the duties and responsibilities of the Egrgoroi. I was so scared and so unprepared for death that I agreed. I signed the contract and sealed it with my blood, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital room surrounded by my family.”

  I thought I should say something, anything, but no words came to mind. Instead, we sat in companionable silence watching the neon fish swim by in their tank. I left my head on Kannon’s shoulder, and he rested his hand on my knee. I’d hoped his story would trigger something in my memory, but it didn’t. The cove, the boat ride, the march to Judgment - none of it was even vaguely familiar. Hermes, though, was. I could picture him with his golden staff, not standing on a boat or ferrying me to an island. In my mind, I saw him surrounded by mist, beckoning me forward. Kannon had said a fog settled over the cove just before he got on the boat. Maybe that was
what I was remembering? Thinking about the possibility made my brain hurt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Kannon said when I’d finished telling him about my family’s lifelong deception over lunch at the Inner Harbor. “Your Aunt Samantha, who you were told died in a car accident, is really your biological mother and you don’t know who your biological father is? The man you have always thought was your father is missing, presumed –” My eyes went wide, causing Kannon to rethink how he was going to finish his sentence – “missing,” he finished. “But he left a necklace with Jamieson’s father to give to you?”

  I nodded, wishing I could recapture the previous night’s indifference. Now it was all I could do to keep from erupting into a sobbing mess. “When did my life become a soap opera?” I tried to joke, but my tone fell flat.

  “Is that the necklace?” Kannon asked, pointing to the gold chain peeking out of the top of my sweater. “Can I see it?”

  I withdrew the pendant from its resting place against my skin and unhooked the clasp. Kannon took the offered necklace, turning it over in his large palm.

  “It’s a dream catcher,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. Dad has given me one every year since I turned eight,” I replied.

  Kannon looked thoughtful for a moment. “You were wearing one at Elizabeth’s party, right?”

  I smiled, pleased that he remembered. “That one he gave me for my tenth birthday.”

  “Did you wear this to bed last night? Did you dream?”

  “I did wear it to bed,” I told Kannon. “And if I did dream, I don’t remember it.”

  “Huh,” was all Kannon said in reply.

  After lunch, we made our way back to Westwood so he could drop me back at the Holloways’ before anyone noticed that I wasn’t there. My mother had left several messages on my cell and I was willing to bet the Holloways’ home phone as well. As angry and upset as I was, I hated causing her stress. So I texted and let her know I was alive. She texted back immediately, practically begging me to come home that evening so we could talk. After spending the day with Kannon, I felt marginally better and more forgiving, but still not ready to face the woman who’d lied to me for so many years. I informed her that I needed another night with the Holloways to mull over her spontaneous admission, but would go to school the following day.