2 Empath (9 page)

“That’s awful,” I sympathized.

“He was really torn up about it,” Zane continued. “I mean, it had been years ago, but I think he sought me out because he wanted to talk. It was still torturing him. He said he saw a light — that he still sees a light — but he doesn’t want to go into it.”

I sat up straighter. “You mean there really is a light and everything? I’ve heard of it, but you said you never saw one.”

“I didn’t actually die,” he reminded me.

Thank God.
“No, right. But why didn’t he want to go into the light? Isn’t it supposed to be peaceful and welcoming and all that?”

“Oh, he said it was. Like, the best thing ever. But he couldn’t go. He couldn’t face his cousin after feeling like he’d killed him — I guess the cousin wasn’t as drunk, and had asked if he could drive. And he didn’t want to face his aunt, either. She had practically raised him and then died young of cancer, and on her deathbed she’d asked him to look after his cousin. He felt horribly, horribly guilty. The bizarre thing was, he wasn’t afraid of hell or punishment or anything like that. He just couldn’t bring himself to face his family!”

“That’s pretty rough,” I commiserated. “What did you say to him?”

Zane exhaled uncomfortably. “What could I say? I mean, since when do I know anything about this stuff?”

I chuckled again. The irony was way too amusing. “I bet you winged it just fine.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, what
did
you say?”

“I, uh… suggested he might feel better if he did something useful with himself — something good. Besides just wandering the halls looking miserable. He said he wanted to keep other people from making the same stupid mistake he made, so I suggested he go hang out at the bar down the street and scare the crap out of drunks heading for their cars.”

I cracked up laughing so hard I nearly did roll on the floor. “Are you
kidding?”

He sounded embarrassed. “No.”

“Zane, that’s awesome!” I praised between peals of laughter. “How perfect!”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. Most of them probably won’t be able to see him, but if even one does, or even just sees a mist or gets a creepy feeling, it might actually work!”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sounding more confident. “I figured if he felt better about himself, maybe he’d go into the light the next time.”

“See,” I praised again, “you’re a natural. And you told me—” I broke off when I heard the sound of a knock on his end of the line, followed by a door opening.

“Guess what I’ve got?” a Hispanic-accented female voice said silkily. “Your favorite!”

Zane’s voice sounded farther away. “Chile rellenos? It is! Coleta, you are an angel.”

“Anything for you, handsome,” she purred back. “Let me know if you need anything else, hmm?”

My teeth gritted. There were some muffled noises, then the sound of a door closing.

“Sorry about that, Kali,” Zane apologized, his voice back to full volume. “My dinner is served. A better than usual one, thank goodness.”

“So I guess you like Mexican food?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Crap!
Did I sound as ridiculously, lamely jealous as I felt? I
knew
he liked Mexican food!

“Love it,” he answered. “I love most food. And right now, I’m starving. Set a new record today for laps in the pool.”

I got a mental image. My blood felt warm again. I crawled back up onto the wooden seat. “You’re back to swimming already? That’s awesome!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell you how
many
laps made a record. I am getting better. Just not quick enough.” A dish clinked. “Wow, this smells good. Coleta outdid herself. Got the chef to add some extra cheese!”

I bet she did.

I made an effort to unclench my jaws. Handsome, indeed. Who was I kidding? Zane was beyond handsome. He was freakin’
gorgeous.
The only reason I’d had him to myself in Hawaii was because nobody else could see him!

Duh.

I was done for.

“I’ve got to go, Kali,” he said, rattling some silverware in the background. “But I’m glad I called. You made me feel a lot better about… you know.”

“No problem. It was good to hear from you.”

Cripes.
Now I sounded like I was talking to a distant uncle!

“Did you get your uniform yet?” he asked.

I did a double take. “My what?”

“Your uniform. For the Zane Svenson School of Aquatic Instruction. The new policy manual allows for a one-piece, but absolutely no swim shorts, and none of those god-awful cover-up things either. Too dangerous. The extra fabric attracts sharks.”

My cheeks flared with heat.

“I really am going now because I’m starving, but keep in touch, okay?” he continued.

“Okay,” I said lamely, my stupid eyes starting to tear up again. I wanted to be with him again, in Oahu. I wanted to be with him again
now.
Before he fell madly in love with some Mexican beauty and decided to surf the Bajas instead.

“Oh, and Kali,” he said slyly.

“Yes?”

“Coleta’s like, forty-something. Bye.”

I sucked in a much-needed breath.

“Bye.”

Chapter 7

“Pretty, easy to move in, and understated,” my mother praised, hanging up my newly ironed prom gown on the door of my closet. “I think you made the perfect choice. I’m glad Kylee and Tara were able to talk you into it!”

I smiled back weakly. The dress had not been my first choice. My first choice had been a stunning, elegant black number studded with tiny sparkling jewels and dipping into a low-cut V neck. Tara and Kylee had said I looked amazing in it. But what was the point in wearing such a thing if Zane wouldn’t be there to see it? I couldn’t care less what any of the Cheyenne guys thought.

“Our dresses all kind of coordinate,” I explained. “This shade of violet goes perfectly with Kylee’s fuchsia and Tara’s teal.” It also had wide shoulder straps and a flowy skirt, which made it more comfortable to dance in. So what if it was so modest it was almost prudish?

“You three are going to have a wonderful time,” my mother prophesied.

“We always do,” I agreed.

Since “going stag” to the prom wasn’t a particularly big deal at my high school, Kylee and Eric’s rather spectacular breakup just ten days ago wound up being a positive for all of us. For Kylee, because “he was getting boring anyway”; for Tara, because she really did not want to go with the force-fed Steve; and for me, because I had never wanted a date in the first place.

I had been looking forward to the big event, if for no other reason than I loved to dance. But all day now, I had been feeling unsettled. After weeks of fairly regular texting, the last word I’d had from Zane was a cryptic note saying that he was being discharged from the rehab facility and would get back in touch when he “got where he was going.” When I asked what that meant, he hadn’t answered. It had been four days now, and just this morning I had given in and texted to ask what was up.

He hadn’t answered that message either.

I was trying really, really hard not to worry about that.

I had other worries, too. The shift in my attitude toward my “gift,” however slight, was having dramatic consequences. Now that I wasn’t actively fighting it, the emotional end of the spectrum had cranked up another notch. I wasn’t just feeling the shadows anymore; I was starting to feel
everybody.
The lunch lady who rang up my salad: depressed. The guy in line behind me at the grocery store: worried. The computer geek in my civics class who never said anything to anybody: crazed with lust (and not over any one girl in particular, either). The ballet instructor for my Thursday night class: ditto (except that he was very specifically interested in the guy who was remodeling the studio).

It could be amusing, at times. But it could also be deafening — and exhausting. I tried to prevent overload by avoiding crowds; but at school, that was impossible. The funny thing was that the signals I picked up most strongly came from strangers, or from people I barely knew. With people I was close to, my impressions seemed garbled. Maybe because my brain, which was already used to reading all sorts of personal cues from them, got in the way? However it worked, I knew I couldn’t keep on like this. I needed help. And thanks to Kylee’s willingness to consult her grandmother, who was apparently linked into half the supernatural knowledge base of the West Coast, I felt like I might actually get some.

It felt amazingly good not to have to deal with everything alone anymore. I just wished that everyone else I loved could be as matter-of-fact about it as Kylee was.

The doorbell rang, interrupting my mother in mid-sentence. She had been saying something about my dress, but I had no idea what. “I’ll get it,” she offered, moving toward the front door. “It must be Tara or Kylee. You snip off those loose threads before we lose track of them.”

Loose threads.
Right.
I grabbed some scissors from my desk drawer and snipped off several violet-colored strands that were escaping from the bottom hemline. The dress had been cheap. I would rather save money for the black one. And senior prom…

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and I looked up to see Tara coming through my doorway with a full-length plastic wardrobe bag and a duffel. I stood still for a moment, stunned.

“Tara!” I exclaimed, gawking at her. “You got contacts!”

She waved a hand in dismissal and dumped her stuff on my bed. “Yeah, I figured it was time to give it a try. Mom’s new insurance covered it, so I figured whatever.”

I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help it. Kylee had been trying to talk Tara into getting contacts ever since the fifth grade, and lately so had I. I didn’t wear glasses or contacts and felt a little guilty telling her what to do, but Tara’s eyes were so gorgeous and her taste in frames was… well… pretty appalling. With contacts, she looked like a totally different person. Dark, cobalt blue orbs sparkled out from behind long, thick lashes and a set of never-before-seen perfectly shaped eyebrows. Even with her hair still skinned off her forehead and held prisoner in the inevitable ponytail, her appearance was mesmerizing.

“You look fabulous!” I said inadequately.

She waved a hand in dismissal again. Only the slightest tilt to the corner of her mouth let me know she appreciated the compliment. “Never mind my stupid eyes,” she said impatiently. “I came a little early so we can talk. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sat down on my bed, and I joined her. “Of course not. What’s up?”

“I think I found a scientific explanation for you.”

My eyebrows rose. “For me?”

She smiled a little sheepishly. “Okay, for
me.
You know I’ve been having a hard time with this stuff.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

She turned toward me, her newly visible eyes radiating regret. “I’m so sorry, Kal. I wish I could have been there for you all along, like Kylee has been, but I’ve been so freaked out—”

“I know,” I said. “I get it. This stuff affects people differently. My dad still acts like I never said anything.”

She looked at me with surprise. “Really? The Colonel?”

I nodded. “He can’t deal with it either. So he doesn’t.”

“I guess I can see that,” she said thoughtfully. “He and I both want everything in our lives to be rational and understandable.”

I made no response.

She turned toward me again, this time with a smile. “But here’s the thing. I’ve finally come to realize that what you’re seeing
isn’t
supernatural at all!”

I blinked back at her. This should be interesting. “It isn’t?”

She shook her head. “Look, Kali. Two hundred years ago, if you’d tried to explain to people about wireless networking and bandwidth and how moving pictures and sound and data can travel through the air in the form of invisible waves, they would have thought you were nuts. Three hundred years ago, they would have burned you for a witch! We can look back now and say they were stupid and closed-minded to think of electromagnetic waves as supernatural, but what else could they think, when they lacked the scientific tools to measure and describe them? And how do we know we’re not still doing the exact same thing to other perfectly natural phenomena that we see glimpses of today, but don’t have the technology to understand yet?”

My heart leapt. “I guess we don’t.”

“Exactly,” Tara beamed. “I told you I don’t believe in the supernatural, and I still don’t. But everything that’s real
is
natural.”

“So you think what I’m seeing is real?” I asked anxiously.

“Absolutely,” she answered with a smile. “I think it’s some kind of residual as-yet-undescribed type of energy, left over in the atmosphere.”

I chuckled, resisting the urge to tell Tara how much she sounded like Kylee’s grandmother.

“I don’t know how or why you’re able to translate that energy into 3D moving images when no one else can,” Tara continued. “But the fact is, you do it, so there must be a way. Probably a recessive trait carried in your DNA. As for seeing Zane in Oahu — I think I’ve found an explanation for that, too.”

I grinned at her. “Go for it.”

“Well,” she began in her best lecture voice. “I’ve been reading up on near-death and after-death experiences. A lot more people are having them now, because resuscitation methods have gotten better and more people are surviving after their heart has actually stopped. If you look at what those patients are saying in a scientific way — as opposed to assuming that it’s either a religious thing or that they’re making it up — it’s pretty clear there’s something real there. What they report back is way too uniform to be pure coincidence. And we know it can’t all be generated by a dying brain, because the brain isn’t even functioning when a lot of this stuff happens, and if your brain cells aren’t working, you can’t hallucinate. Some part of our consciousness
has
to exist separate from the brain, simple as that. And I think that some part of Zane, some form of energy associated with his body, did travel to Oahu. And you, being you, were able to interpret that energy where you saw a 3D living person.”