Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1)

by Amy Reece

  I was again momentarily distracted as Veronica surreptitiously wiped her eyes. I remembered my grandmother referring to her as “that poor girl” when I told her about the pregnancy and felt a little bit sorry for her. I mean, yes, I think girls shouldn’t be stupid enough to get pregnant in this day and age of easily accessible and economical birth control, but it’s still so much easier for the guy involved.

  A few more people presented and I thought I was going to get through a day without any drama or episodes. I was wrong. When the bell rang, I stood up to start packing up my stuff and turned back to tell Jack what a great job he had done on his presentation. Veronica got up at the same time and stepped into the same aisle as me. You know how some desks are designed for right-handed kids and some are for left-handed kids? They open in different directions and they’re usually placed in the classroom randomly. She’s not one to wait until somebody moves out of the way before pushing past and she bumped into me rather rudely. I was about to turn around and let her know that was not okay when it started: my ears began buzzing, my vision clouded up, and I got really warm. I felt myself begin to pass out; it was such an intense sensation. I barely noticed Jack pushing me back into my seat and shoving my head down to my lap.

  Veronica was with someone, a man, but not one I recognized and I couldn’t see his face clearly. I saw Veronica, but the man was fuzzy, out of focus somehow. He had his hands on her upper arms, shaking her roughly. His arms were bulging with muscles; he looked like he could be a bodybuilder. “Who have you told? You better not tell anyone it’s mine! You have told, haven’t you, bitch? Tell me!” He shook her again and called her some very foul names. This obviously wasn’t her boyfriend, Danny. This was someone older, judging by his deep voice and huge muscles.

  “No, Nick! I swear I haven’t told anyone! You’re hurting me!”

  He abruptly let her go, stepped away, and turned around. Both Veronica and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however, as the man suddenly turned back around and hit her, open-handed, on the side of her head. She fell to the ground, sobbing.

  He looked shocked at what he had done. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.” He was kneeling down by her side, pulling her into his arms.

  I came back to my senses with Jack squatting down next to my desk, rubbing my back lightly. “Hey, Ally,” he whispered. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

  “Jack, Ally, is everything all right here?” Ms. Gonzalez was standing at the front of our row.

  Jack looked at me questioningly. I shook my head very slightly and gave him an imploring look.

  “Yeah, Ms. Gonzalez,” he said, without looking away from me. “I had a minor misunderstanding with my girlfriend. Sorry to bother you. Let’s go, Ally. We can talk about this later.” He started to gather up our belongings.

  “Oh, well,” Ms. Gonzalez said “I’ll let you…” She retreated back to her desk, apparently unwilling to get involved in any of our teenage drama.

  We made our way out of the classroom as quickly as possible. Jack put his hand on the small of my back and guided me into a fairly deserted side hallway. Although I was still fuzzy from the vision, I couldn’t help thinking how much I liked being described as Jack’s girlfriend.

  “Listen, Ally. What’s going on with you?” He backed me against the wall as he confronted me. “This isn’t normal. It doesn’t seem like you’re sick, but something’s wrong. I really wish you’d tell me. Maybe I can help. Did that girl do something to you? I mean, yesterday you got all weird when she was presenting and today she practically knocks you down and you get all hot and look like you’re gonna pass out.”

  I looked up into his sweet, caring eyes and thought it was amazing that before yesterday I had never spoken to him. Today I felt like we had been friends for a while, yet I still didn’t know very much about him. I shook my head slowly. “No, I’m fine, Jack. Thanks for that, back there,” I motioned vaguely toward the classroom.

  He looked at me, staring, really. It was unnerving. “Come on, Ally. What’s up with you? Something’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this. Let me help.” He reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear.

  Well, when he did that, I was putty in his hands. “Listen. I’ll tell you what’s going on. I don’t know if you’ll believe me or if you’ll think I’m insane and never want to speak to me again, but I’ll tell you. It’s just…is there somewhere we could go? A bit more private? I don’t mean to be creepy or anything.” I didn’t know what I planned to tell him, but I figured he deserved some sort of explanation.

  He looked deeply into my eyes, searching. “Sure. How about if we go grab a Coke or something and then I can drive you home. I have a class at CNM in a couple hours, but I’ve got some time.” I nodded and he shouldered my backpack and his and led the way out to the parking lot.

  Wow. This guy is super sweet and polite and everything wonderful. Too bad I’m about to completely scare him off with my freakishness.

  A surprisingly short time later—how time flies when you’re dreading something—he pulled into the parking lot at Flying Star, a local gourmet coffee chain restaurant. Our high school is conveniently located in the Northeast Heights area of Albuquerque, which means we’re really close to several malls and lots of restaurants. I love living in this area of town because, as a girl without a car, I appreciate being within handy walking or bus distance of a lot of choices for shopping, and so on. It’s not exactly like we live in a major metropolitan area like Chicago or New York—this is New Mexico, after all—but for Albuquerque this is a great part of town. As we approached the glass case full of baked goods and the counter, Jack turned and asked if I was hungry. I shook my head. “Just coffee, thanks.”

  He ordered two coffees and a piece of Rio Grande Mud Pie with two forks. “You like chocolate, don’t you?” he checked. I assented with a slight shrug. Sweet, but I doubted I would be able to keep down any kind of food right now. I was so nervous about the forthcoming conversation I thought I might actually throw up. He picked up our tray and carried it to a booth beside the windows. He placed a cup of strong, steaming coffee in front of each of us and placed the pie in the middle of the table, equidistant between us. He held a fork out to me, saying, “Ally, I know you think that whatever it is you have to tell me is horrible, terrible, and in all other ways a deal-breaker, but I have to tell you that it will be so much better if you have a bite of this amazing pie first.” He dangled the fork in front of me, raising his eyebrows hopefully. How could I resist?

  I laughed and took a small bite of the pie, a layered concoction with a chocolate crust, a fudgy, dark chocolate layer, and a creamy caramel layer, all topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles around the edge. It was pretty much the trifecta of delightfulness. I moaned as I chewed. It was nearly a When Harry Met Sally moment. “Wow. This is wonderful! I’ve never tried this before.” And then I started to tear up—the thought of losing this, this camaraderie we were building, for lack of a better term, was heart breaking. Add to that the stress I was under with these crazy visions popping up and you’ve got the makings of a real drama scene. Now, let me let you in on a little secret: redheads are not pretty criers. We get all blotchy and red with a tendency towards swelling—not attractive. I so needed to get myself under control.

  I’ve got to give Jack a huge amount of credit; when confronted with a teary redhead, in public no less, he didn’t bolt for his car as fast as possible. In fact, he was extremely solicitous, taking my hand and passing me a napkin to wipe my nose. Sweet and practical. “Hey, it’s okay, Ally. The pie’s not that good.” He tried to lighten the mood. I gave a slight chuckle. “Listen,” he continued, “are you in trouble somehow? Ally, I promise I’ll understand—I’ve been there myself—and I’ll help you.”

  I managed to control my tears enough to say, “Oh, God, Jack, I’m not on drugs or anything. I haven’t committed a crime of any sort.” He looked at me while still rubbing th
e back of my hand with his thumb. “And I am absolutely not pregnant.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I haven’t experienced that last one. I could help you with the first two, however. Come on, Ally. What’s going on with you?”

  What on earth was I going to tell him? I remembered Grams’ dictate that outsiders shouldn’t know about our “family gift,” but I couldn’t lie to him anymore. Maybe it went back to the feeling I’ve had all along that there was more to Jack than met the eye. I decided to try to tell him the truth, realizing that this was probably the end of our very short relationship. “It’s just that I have to tell you something that sounds insane and kinda like science fiction.”

  He was still rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. How was I supposed to concentrate with him touching me like that? I felt it tingling all the way to my toes.

  “I promise to listen with an open mind,” he said.

  I took a deep breath a dove in. “All right. Here goes. Ever since I was a little girl, I have known certain things about people. Things I shouldn’t have any way of knowing. This kind of thing actually runs in my family. And yesterday, I had an extremely clear vision in the middle of English about Veronica Albluth. I know for a fact that she’s pregnant, which won’t come as a shock to anyone, but today, a little while ago, I had another vision of her being smacked around by some guy and called some very bad names. And I really don’t think it was her boyfriend, Daniel. That’s all. Except I’m really scared and freaked out by all this. And, oh, yeah, you can ask Tara if you don’t believe me. Or my grandmother. Or my mom.” I finally stopped to take a breath, afraid to look at him, afraid of what I’d see in his eyes.

  He stopped rubbing my knuckles and sat back in his seat. “So, wait a minute. You’re telling me that you’re having some sort of ESP visions? That you’re, like…a psychic?” He laughed once, disbelieving.

  I withdrew my hand from his and looked down at the table, making designs in a drop of cold, spilled coffee with my finger.

  “Holy shit. You are telling me you’re a psychic. Wow. Okay.” He sat back in his seat, running his hand through his black hair.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I took another bite of pie and looked anywhere but at Jack. There was a guy working on his laptop at a nearby table and a woman eating by herself at another table. I did a double take when I realized that the woman was actually a man in drag. The Adam’s apple gave it away. The pie in my mouth seemed to have doubled in size as I tried to swallow it down my throat, which was trying to close up. I kept chewing and chewing. I had a horrible feeling I resembled a cow.

  “Ally?” Jack reached over the table, turning my chin gently to make me look at him. “So, can you read minds, or what?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I whispered, finally managing to choke down the pie. “I just get these visions, I guess. I’ve had two of them now. It sounds pretty crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah, it does.” He touched my face again. “But it also makes sense.”

  I stared at him. “What do you mean? In what universe does this make sense?”

  “Well, it makes sense because we’ve ruled out most everything else, except maybe a brain tumor. Do you think that could be your problem?” His smile told me that he was teasing.

  I tried to smile back, but it was a half-hearted attempt. “I don’t think it’s a brain tumor. Do you believe me, Jack? Really?”

  He smiled that wonderful smile I was becoming addicted to. “Yeah, which makes me crazy too, I guess. But I do believe you, Ally. How could I not? So, Veronica Albluth is pregnant by some guy who’s smacking her around? That’s not right. We need to figure out who he is.”

  And now I started crying in earnest. Great big heaving sobs. Wonderful. I was starting to attract unwanted attention, so Jack, sweet, wonderful Jack, stood up and slid into my side of the booth. He put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side, shielding me from the rest of the coffee shop patrons, while handing me more napkins with his other hand. “Shh. Don’t cry. It’s okay.” He stroked my hair as I continued to sob messily.

  “You believe me? I can’t believe you believe me. Jack, I can’t tell you what this means to me. Why do you believe me?” I pulled away to look at him. “My story is completely unbelievable. You shouldn’t believe me. It sounds like something from Harry Potter or some other fantasy.” I was out of dry napkins so Jack got up and fetched a few from the refill counter.

  As he slid back into his side of the booth he said, “Well, for one thing, your grandmother and Tara seem like pretty reliable people, your grandmother’s ancestral tea set aside. I haven’t met your mother yet, so I can’t speak for her. In addition, I’ve been watching you all year long in two classes every day and you don’t seem given to drama of any sort.”

  Wait a minute—he’d been watching me all year? What?

  “So, what’s up with the dizziness and that crazy heat you give off? That’s happened both times, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it has. I don’t know why it happens.” I shook my head and blew my nose in what I hoped wasn’t a disgusting way. “Grams is looking into it, doing some family research. It’s pretty darn inconvenient, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “It’s fine, Ally. I don’t think anyone else really noticed it was you. It’s none of their business, anyway. You said this runs in your family. So does your grandmother have any powers? Like maybe knowing when people are coming over or something? Hmm?” He gave me a rather pointed look. He was apparently a pretty smart guy.

  I finally was able to smile for real. “Yeah, she can touch stuff and tell things about the owner. She goes through my stuff all the time. Kinda sucks, not gonna lie.”

  “So that explains the tea party. What about your mother?”

  “She finds things. It definitely comes in handy. We never lose our car keys or the remote.” I couldn’t believe he was so understanding. “Doesn’t this freak you out at all?”

  He appeared to think about it. “Not so much. I knew there was something special about you. You know, more than meets the eye? Plus, my grandmother is a curandera, so maybe I’m predisposed to believe in the paranormal.”

  I had thought the same thing about him, that there was more to him than was readily apparent. “What is a curandera?”

  “It’s a form of healer. She uses herbs and contacts the spirit world, stuff like that. I’ve seen some pretty freaky stuff that can’t be explained by science.”

  I looked down at the pie and was surprised to see nothing but crumbs. “Please tell me I didn’t wolf down all that pie. Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  “I’m saying nothing. Besides, you needed it. I’m sure those visions cause some kind of hypoglycemia or something. That’s probably why you get dizzy and weak feeling. Well, on top of eating nothing but a few vegetables for lunch.” He placed a tip on the table. “Let’s get going. I’ve got to get to class and I bet you didn’t call to tell your grandmother you’d be late.”

  “Shoot, you’re right.” I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and texted her an apology while we walked out to his car. When he dropped me off, as he walked me to my door—such a gentleman—he stepped very close to me and said, “I’m really glad you told me, Ally. I swear I’ll keep it to myself. I hope we can figure out a way to help that girl. No one should have to put up with that.”

  I looked up into his beautiful ebony eyes. His eyelashes were so thick. How fair is that? And he smelled so good. “Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate that. And thanks for the pie. Sorry I ate it all.”

  He laughed and opened the door for me.

  chapter Four

  “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

  –Arthur Conan Doyle

  Grams spent Friday evening and all day Saturday sequestered in her room. When we asked what she was doing, she would only say “research.” Mom and I were surprised, because she nearly always has a Friday date and often a Saturday one as well. The
statistics for single women versus single men after age 55 are definitely in her favor. And my grandmother is hot. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true; she’s tall, slim, and dresses with style. Plus she’s a lot of fun. I want to stop thinking about the ramifications of that last statement immediately. Ewww. Anyway, I felt bad because I knew she was spending all that time researching my issues with these visions I was suddenly having. So late Saturday afternoon, I rapped on her door, balancing a tea tray with one hand. I figured she needed some sustenance since she hadn’t been out for a regular meal since she got home Friday after work.

  I entered Grams’s bedroom to find her typing busily away on her laptop, her bed covered in papers. “Here’s some tea and a sandwich, Grams. You need to take a break. Where should I put this?”

  “Oh, thank-you, sweetheart, that’s very thoughtful. Set it there on the dresser. I’ll get to it in a minute.” She continued clicking her keyboard.

  “Grams,” I said in my sternest tone. “You need to take a short break. That email will still be there when you’ve eaten a bit.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she capitulated meekly and stood up to stretch. “I get so caught up.” She was wearing sweats and slippers, which told me, more than anything else, how serious she was about this research. She usually pays much more attention to her personal appearance.

  The fragrance of bergamot filled the room as I poured us each a cup of Earl Grey and set a plate with a cheese sandwich and some sliced fruit in front of her. “How’s it going? Have you found out anything yet?”

  As we sipped our tea, she began to tell me how she was attempting to find records of the women in our family dating back to the 15th century. “As I’ve told you before, the gift of the Seer runs in our family through the women. All the women have it to some extent, but it’s most often a very mild form of shall we say, enhanced intuition. My ability to touch an object and see something about its owner is really rather unusual in its strength. Your mother’s ability to find lost items is far more common.”