A Fractured Light (9 page)

Dan stood up and moved to her side.

“Hey,” he said. “Are we all cool here?” He was making his voice deeper, and Cassie coughed back a laugh. Before he could say anything further, Gideon and Asher were there, and Dan fell back.

Gideon stepped forward, eyeing Lucas. “I think you guys better get out of here,” he said. Lucas glared at him but took a step backward.

The tension in the air was thick. To the rest of the cafeteria, it looked like the new guys clearly felt they had to stake their claim on the school or else. But I knew the truth. They were Guardians, and this was our first warning.

It’s only a matter of time.
That’s what the notebook had said, right? Not for the first time, I wondered who had written it.

Lucas made an
I’m Watching You
gesture to Gideon, and he and his friends turned and stalked toward the soda machines.

The Rebels looked livid.

Dan sat back down at the table and stared at his stack of fries.

“You gonna eat those?” Ian asked.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Dan said. “Help yourself.”

Cassie’s face clouded over. “Oh my god, Dan, really?” Dan looked up.

“Really, what?”

“I get that you think she’s hot, but you don’t have to be all obvious about it!”

“What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“No, but I can
tell
. It’s, like, oozing out of you.”

“Oozing? Really?”

“Shut up,” Cassie said, standing up and shoving a fry into his ear. Ian and I burst into laughter. “I’ve got things to do after school today,” she said crisply. She grabbed her crutches and huffed off.

“Cass, come on!” Dan scrambled after her, leaving his fries untouched on the table. “Don’t be like that!”

“Oh, so now I’m like
that
!” Cassie’s voice trailed after her.

“His loss.” Ian grabbed a fry off Dan’s plate.

No matter how much we try to keep things around us from changing
, I realized, standing up and walking my tray over to the conveyer belt,
the universe tends toward chaos
.

“Let that be a warning to you,” a cold voice said, low in my ear. I turned around, and found myself face-to-face with Raven. “Your little Rebel boyfriend can’t protect you all the time,” she said. “So you better start learning to protect yourself. Because wherever you go, whatever you do, we’re watching you.” She turned to leave, winking at me over her shoulder just before she pushed through the cafeteria doors.

Chapter 11

A
s I walked through the crowded halls, my hands were shaking so hard that I had to grasp the handle of my book bag to keep them steady. I felt so distant from every other student pushing past me. The thought occurred to me that I might never feel like one of them again.

I kept pushing and didn’t even realize that the bell had rung until the hall cleared out and I found myself walking alone.

Devin was already sitting at a table in the library by the history stacks. He looked up when I walked in, then looked back down at his notebook. I slid into a chair across from him.

My heart beat uncontrollably. I didn’t want him to sense my panic, but it was hard just to breathe. Even so, the longer we sat there in silence, the calmer I began to feel. It was his Guardian presence, the serenity that always radiated from him. I’d forgotten what that felt like. I closed my eyes, and realized that my hands had stopped shaking. When I opened them again only a second later, Devin was looking at me. He closed his notebook.

“I’ll let Ms. Manning know this isn’t going to work,” he said, looking away. “She’ll find someone else to tutor you.” Then he stood up, shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other, and walked out of the library without once lifting his eyes.

I stared after him, watching the door swing on its hinges.

I drove Cassie and Dan back to Cassie’s right after school, leaving them to sort things out. By the time I pulled out of the driveway, they were kissing, so the effects of their lunchtime fight must not have been very lasting. I headed home, letting relief overtake me when I pulled into my own driveway. I threw my backpack down by the front door and collapsed onto the porch swing. A breeze blew in from the mountains, bringing another tantalizing hint of spring. Maybe winter would thaw soon. The sky would stay lighter longer, and the nights wouldn’t feel quite so dark.

My arms and legs felt restless, and there was a burning energy inside me. I couldn’t go into town, and no one had gone over the catch-up homework with me. I felt like if I didn’t get up and do something, my restlessness was going to eat me alive. If this had been a normal winter afternoon, I’d have been at ski practice. But I’d quit the team, too scared of how my powers might manifest if I lost control on the slopes.

I needed to move.

As if the energy was guiding me, I got up off the porch swing and jogged inside, calling a hello to Aunt Jo, taking the stairs two at a time to my room. Not waiting for a response, I threw off the sweater dress and boots and dressed in leggings and a sports bra, a long underwear top, and a fleece vest. I bent to lace up my sneakers. I hadn’t been for a run in a long time. But I had to do
something
.

My breath formed clouds of steam in the gray afternoon light as my feet pounded against the ground. I pushed myself up the trail in the woods, pumping my arms and breathing in short, regulated breaths the way I did when I was skiing. It felt amazing to be working my body again, to be so in control of it.

Halfway up the trail, a clearing opened up into a view of the valley below. I stopped there to rest and stared out over the mountain panorama. The light began to shift, and clouds moved in, tempting me.

Focus your energy. Find the switch.

The clouds took the shape of rolling waves, resembling the sea. I rocked back and forth on my heels, and the clouds rolled back and forth with me. I crouched low, and the clouds descended on the valley, so thick I couldn’t see a thing. I stood up, and they wisped out into a fine mist, swirling around me. I closed my eyes and wished for snow. When I opened them again, snowflakes floated from the sky, catching on my eyelashes.

It didn’t let up. More snowflakes followed as I jogged back down the mountain, coating my ponytail and soaking through the sleeves of my shirt. By the time I got back home, it was flurrying, accumulating on the ground, a soft layer of white drowning out every other thought but one: I had done this.

I vowed to go for another run again the next day. I was grounded, after all. I had all week.

When I walked into the kitchen, shaking snow from my hair, I stopped short. Aunt Jo was sitting at the kitchen table with Asher. The two of them were stiff and awkward. Aunt Jo’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. They looked up when they saw me.

“Skye,” Aunt Jo said. “Asher just came by to drop off a book you left at school.”

“Oh,” I said, still breathing hard from my run and marveling at the awkwardness I’d stumbled into. “Thanks. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” Asher smiled politely at Aunt Jo, and followed me upstairs to my bedroom. I closed the door behind us.

“Wow, I don’t think she likes me,” Asher said, falling onto my bed. “That’s a first.”

“How could she not like you?” I asked. “Didn’t you charm the pants off her like you do everyone?”

“I tried,” Asher said, bewildered and annoyed. “It didn’t work.”

“Huh.” Maybe she thought he’d been with me at the cabin. Maybe she still blamed him for my running away.

“Hey,” Asher said, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as if noticing me for the first time.

“What?” I grinned.

“You look kind of sexy in those running clothes.”

“These? This spandex is like a million years old.”

“I so don’t care. Come here.” He reached out his hands to pull me toward him, and I leaned down for a deep, intense kiss as he ran his hands up my legs. Even through the fabric, my skin prickled at his touch. I still had the energy from the clouds pulsing through me, and I felt alive, connected to the earth, to Asher’s spicy scent. As if sensing this, he pulled me on top of him on the bed, deepening the kiss with his hand on the back of my neck.

“Wow,” he whispered. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just feel good today. Is that so bad?” I batted my eyelashes against his cheek.

“Bad? Hell, it’s amazing.”

I glanced out the window behind my bed. The stars were moving in the night sky, twinkling on and off, rearranging themselves.

I’m doing that
, I thought. I watched them move in different directions, trying to control the pattern of stars. I frowned and stared hard. I had to focus my thoughts. I could do this. I could control this. The stars came together, pulled to the center of the sky as if by some great magnetic force. They formed letters. They were spelling something.

Asher pulled me back down before I could see what.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay? Where did you go just then?”

Suddenly I heard footsteps in the hall.
Aunt Jo.
I broke away quickly. Asher groaned.

“Man,” he said under his breath, “that
sucks
.”

We sat up.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s . . . been strange since I’ve been back. Or maybe I’ve just been used to her being away all the time.”

When he didn’t respond, I glanced over at him. But I wasn’t sure that he had heard me. His eyes had zoned in on my dresser.

“Skye,” Asher said suddenly, “what’s that?” He stood up abruptly, crossing the room in two strides. He picked up the white feather I’d found at Love the Bean.

“Nothing,” I said, reaching for it. He swiftly lifted it out of my reach. “I found it last night.”

He let the feather fall from his hand to the floor. The shaft was broken in three places, the fringes bent and mangled where it had been crumpled in his fist.

“That’s a Guardian feather,” he said. “And that’s what I do to Guardians.”

“You know,” I said, heating up, “I do have Guardian blood in me. I can’t change that.”

“You’re not a Guardian. You chose the Rebellion.” He paused, his voice softening. “You chose me.”

“I know,” I said. “I did. I do! But my powers aren’t just dark. I can feel it.”

He squinted at me. “You can use that for good.”

“I need to understand it. You can’t teach me that. No matter how hard you wish you could.” He sighed and turned toward the window, his back to me. I wanted to go to him, but I stayed still. “You can’t destroy me if your job is to protect me,” I snapped. “So mull that one over.”

He raked a hand through his hair and turned, looking at me. He looked apologetic and annoyed at the same time, but at least he wasn’t angry anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out. “I just— I see him. In homeroom. Walking down the halls. In the cafeteria. In the library.” Had Asher seen us together in the library? It’s not like we were doing anything, but still, the idea of him thinking I was warming up to the Guardian who had tried to kill me made me uncomfortable. “And I get so angry. He still looks at you. What right does he have to look at you? I just want to kill him. And I will, Skye. I will. As soon as I get the chance.”

“Asher—” I said. “Stop.” But he was already brushing past me out of the room. I didn’t follow him. Instead, I picked the white feather up off the floor, and brought it over to my dresser.

I started when I lifted my gaze and saw my reflection in the mirror. The girl who stared back at me had silver eyes, flashing in the early evening light. Intense and bright.

Powerful.

That night, Aunt Jo and I ate dinner at the kitchen table in tense silence. I knew she didn’t like Asher—that she didn’t fully trust me anymore, no matter what she said. And she knew I knew. I believed that she loved me and that she was glad I was back. I believed that I’d scared her when I was gone. At least . . . I
wanted
to believe it. But something felt different between us now.

Why did Aunt Jo distrust Asher so much? He was the one person—the only person, really—who I trusted now. Was she picking up on something I somehow couldn’t see?

Before bed, I took the notebook I’d found in the cabin out of my sock drawer.

Guardians haunt these woods, watching us. I know they know. It’s only a matter of time.

How come there wasn’t more written in it after that first page? That couldn’t have been the only entry. Unless—the Guardians had attacked before he or she could write more? What if the owner of the notebook hadn’t written any more—because she or he hadn’t lived long enough? Slowly I thumbed through the rest of the notebook. I hadn’t noticed it before, but several pages had been ripped out, leaving jagged, torn edges. So maybe there was more, but the writer didn’t want anyone to find what he or she had written. What if the pages contained something important? Or dangerous? Something the owner needed to keep hidden, in case a Guardian found the notebook.

Unless . . . the owner of the notebook hadn’t ripped out those pages. What if someone else had? Someone who had found the notebook before me.

Were the pages destroyed? Were they hidden somewhere?

Maybe there was still a chance that I could find them. And it felt so important that I did.