Alight The Peril (27 page)

“But nothing about Mason and Ang?” I asked. Sophie pressed her lips together and she shook her head. I swallowed and stared down at the table.

My stomach growled again. I picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of cantaloupe, and then set the fork down. Without Mason and Ang back, defeating Harriet didn’t seem like a real victory.

My great-aunt turned from whatever she was fiddling with at the counter. She held a small drawstring leather pouch, which she placed in my hands as she joined us at the table.

“You did very well last night,” she said. She glanced between me and Sophie. “Both of you did. I cannot imagine how you pulled it off, just the two of you, but you did. Remarkable.” She trained her unblinking, steely gaze on me. But her eyes were proud rather than stern. “You know you still have something left to do, though. And soon.”

I nodded, and started tapping my foot. I couldn’t sit still any longer. “We need to get to Danton. If there’s one day of the year I could actually do something to bring back Ang and Mason, it’s today.”

* * *

An hour later, Sophie and I drove down Main before taking the highway to Danton. We had to take a detour when we neared the area close to the boardwalk. It was blocked off for tonight’s Summer Solstice Carnival. Food and craft booths lined several blocks, and vendors were busy readying for the celebration. I clutched Aunt Dorothy’s pouch, which contained more bottles of tincture.

“Did you look at your arms?” Sophie asked. She sipped her nonfat hazelnut latte.

I looked down at my bare forearms. “What do you mean?”

“Your inner arms. I think you get them on both, right?”

I turned my hands palms up and stared at what I saw. Just below each elbow crease was a seven-pointed star. The septagrams were no bigger than dimes, and colored the faint blue of a vein seen through pale skin.

Sophie held her left arm in front of her, keeping her eyes on the road. “I got one, too.” I saw her star, same as mine. She glanced at me and grinned.

I settled back into the passenger seat, considering these permanent badges of honor. Sophie and I had earned them alone, working as half the team we should have been. What if Ang and Mason didn’t come back? Worry tempered the victory from last night. How would we face Quicksilver and his army?

By the time we reached the hospital, my legs were practically dancing beneath me. The flow of power through my body made it difficult to focus on anything other than controlling it or channeling a bit of it. Sophie and I stalked through the facility without hesitation. Each time we encountered someone who looked tempted to ask us where we were going or what we were doing, I flicked a bit of influence without breaking stride.

We found Angeline’s room first. Her mother sat staring out the window, her worry-lined face framed by a slightly darker version of Ang’s golden locks. On the other side of the room, Ang’s dad sat slouched in a chair, a magazine open but ignored on his lap. I bent over each of them in turn, speaking softly and soothing their minds with my influence. In unison, they rose and left the room.

I filled my lungs and turned to assess my best friend. I let out a sigh of dismay as I took in too many tubes and wires connected to various parts of her body. Sophie gave me a respectful bubble of space.

“Oh, Ang,” I whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking the tears welling behind them. Drawing another breath, this one much shakier than a moment ago, I gathered my focus.

Even though I’d lost my psychic link with her, I still sensed a channel between us that remained open, like a dry riverbed waiting for the spring flood. I sent a trickle of influence into the channel, a tiny thread of color and life. My heart leapt in joy when I realized it was met with much less resistance than before. Maybe it was due to the surge in my power, Harriet’s defeat, both, or neither. I didn’t really care.

I increased the trickle to a stream, and let it swell slowly . . . slowly . . . and the channel between us widened. Building a reservoir of influence within me, I allowed it to cascade faster and faster, and I built up more and more behind it so the reservoir wouldn’t run dry too soon.

Everything around me faded away as my body became permeated, soaked in pure energy, so much more than I ever dreamed I could hold. A soft whir in my ears grew to a roar crashing as the energy rushed from me to Angeline in a tidal wave. My surroundings began to encroach into my mind when my legs started trembling, then shaking uncontrollably. Just as my knees buckled, arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

“Corinne, she’s opening her eyes.” Sophie’s voice drifted through the roar. “Stop before you burn yourself out.”

Sophie lowered me onto a chair, and I doubled over, drained and panting. When I raised my eyes, the corners of Angeline’s mouth lifted just a fraction. The weakest of smiles.

I knew you’d come for me
, Angeline’s voice whispered faint through my mind. So slight, barely there. But she was back. Tears flooded my eyes and I buried my face in my hands for a second. Then I took four shaky steps to the bed to embrace my best friend.

|| 33 ||

SOPHIE AND I STAYED with Angeline for a couple of hours while I recovered. We watched her drift in and out of sleep. Right before we left, she sat up to drink some of the water I’d spiked with Aunt Dorothy’s tincture. When I compared how Ang looked now to how deathly ill she’d been a few hours ago, I wanted to cheer.

We found Mason alone in his room. I brushed a curl off his forehead and trailed my fingertips down his cheek. His breathing was so shallow and slow.

Praying I had enough left in me to bring him back, too, I closed my eyes and let energy seep into him. This time, I knew to pull back just before my legs gave out. I sat down hard in the chair Sophie pushed up behind me, every muscle twitching from fatigue. When the dark veil across my vision cleared, I drew a shaky breath and leaned forward. Mason lay just as still as before, but his breathing appeared deeper.

Mason?
I said softly.
Can you hear me?

“Is it work—” Sophie began, but Mason shot up in bed, his eyes wide and arms flailing.

Sophie and I both lunged to restrain him. I winced when I noticed the tube from his IV was stretched taut.

“Easy, don’t get up,” I said, trying to sound soothing.

Mason’s gaze met mine, and my heart froze. There was no recognition on his face. It was like looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“It’s Corinne,” I said.

Several seconds passed. My rib cage seemed to contract around my lungs as I willed his expression to change.

Mason, it’s me. Corinne,
I tried.

A moment later, something within him seemed to crack, and his body sagged as tension drained away. Mason fell back against the pillow, his eyes hollow and exhausted.

Corinne. How did I get here?

I pulled the blanket up to his chest. “What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked.

“The, the—” Mason’s voice cracked and he coughed a little. Sophie poured him a cup of water and held it to his lips.
I remember the cove. The dream world.

I recounted what had happened, the ambulances, tracking Harriet to the cove, our confrontation. Sophie helped me fill in some of the gaps in the story. Mason listened, closing his eyes at intervals to rest. Maybe we should have let him recover before bombarding him with our stories. I eyed him as Sophie and I talked, and unease stirred in the pit of my stomach. He’d been through a lot, and couldn’t be expected to spring from the bed and start cracking jokes, but something was just . . . not right.

Does he seem off to you?
I asked Sophie.

How so?

It’s like he’s awake, but not really back. Not like Ang was when she woke up.

Sophie didn’t respond for a moment.
Yeah, something is different, but I can’t put my finger on it. You know him a lot better than I do.

Maybe it’s something medical. Maybe he needs to eat or something.
I reached for the phone beside Mason’s bed and called the nurse station and told the nurse who answered that Mason was awake.

Sophie and I stood aside when a nurse, a short woman with a long salt-and-pepper ponytail, entered the room. She checked his monitors and spoke to him in a low voice. Mason nodded a couple of times.

It’s like . . . he’s not glad to see us,
I said to Sophie.
Like he doesn’t really care that we’re here, you know? That probably sounds really self-centered, but that’s not how I mean it. There’s just no warmth at all.

Yeah, there’s something kind of . . . hollow,
Sophie said. We exchanged a glance, and she looked almost as worried as I felt.
Maybe he just needs some time?

The nurse turned to us. “We’re going to need to do some tests now,” she said pointedly, but not unkindly. I nodded, and Sophie followed me out to the hallway.

“I just have a bad feeling,” I said. “But I have no idea what to do about it.”

“Why don’t we swing by and check on Ang? Then maybe later we can find out how Mason’s tests went.”

When we peeked into Ang’s room, she was fast asleep, so we decided not to disturb her. We crossed paths with her mom on our way to Bradley’s room. She said the doctor had come to examine her, and if Ang kept improving, things looked good for her return home in a few days. We continued on our way, and I tried reaching out to Mason.

How are you feeling?
I asked.

Tired. But okay,
he said. I waited for more, but heard only silence.

Is there anything I can do? Could we bring you anything?

No, that’s okay.

Let me know if you think—

Going in for an MRI now.

I frowned, reviewing our exchange and trying to pinpoint Mason’s mood or state of mind. It was weird to even need to decipher his signals. Normally, Mason was the last person on earth I’d have trouble reading.

“I just tried to talk to him,” I said to Sophie. “He was kind of abrupt.”

Sophie started to respond, but when we knocked on Brad’s door and then stepped into his room, she let out a joyful shriek and raced to him, throwing her arms around his neck. When she drew back so I could see his face, his eyes were bright, his smile easy. If he wasn’t completely cured, he had to be well on his way.

I hugged my brother, and then he and Mom gave us the full report. The mass in Brad’s abdomen had disappeared, and he seemed to have no ill effects from the fever. His doctor said they’d probably discharge him the next day. Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, Brad’s hand clasped in both of hers. I was thrilled at his recovery, but I kept seeing Mason’s hollow eyes and hearing the flat tone of his words in my mind.

We stopped by Angeline’s room once more, and her sweet smile was like a balm on my heart. She looked absolutely wiped out, though.

“My head is killing me,” she said, her voice raspy. “And I tried to get up to go to the bathroom earlier, and just about passed out.”

“Don’t push yourself,” I said. “Just rest so you can come home, okay?”

Sophie and I each gave her a hug, and then we left.

I wanted to ask Ang more questions about how she was feeling and what she remembered—maybe she could help me figure out what was going on with Mason—but she clearly couldn’t handle any more stress right now.

Later that day, Sophie came over and helped me type a message to let the other unions know what had happened over the past few days. When she ran upstairs to get us some soda, I sent a private message to Zane.

I know you can’t get away right now because it’s winter solstice there. I hope nothing bad has happened and you’re all okay. Find me when you can talk.

He’d warned me that I wouldn’t hear from him as the southern hemisphere approached its winter solstice. I shivered, imagining what our battle with Harriet would have been like if it were six months from now, when my powers were at their weakest, and with only Sophie and me well enough to fight.

The next few days passed in a flurry of homecomings. Brad and Mom came home from Danton, and other than some fatigue, my brother seemed back to his normal self.

I visited Angeline as soon as her parents brought her home. She sat curled up in the papasan chair in her room, nested under a thick blanket. She smiled and laughed as we talked, but she was tired out after a half hour or so. I decided my questions could wait a few more hours, so I left her alone to nap.

I’d walked to Ang’s house, and on the way back home, I turned down Mason’s street. When I saw both his parents’ cars in the driveway, I stopped.

Mason? Are you home already?
I tried to keep my voice soft through our link, in case he was asleep.

A moment passed with no response, so I strode up to the Flints’ front door. I tried to smooth the frown from my face as I reached for the bell.

The door cracked open, and Mason’s dad’s face appeared. “Hello, Corinne,” he said. His expression was drawn, and for a second, I wondered if he blamed me for what had happened to Mason. “I’d invite you in, but Mason is resting.”

“Oh,” I said, my mind working. I was pretty sure Mason was awake. “Do you know if he’s asleep? I’d really like to see him.”

“He needs quiet now,” he said. “Maybe you could give him a call later.”

Was Mason avoiding me?

I stalked back to my house under a cloud of worry tinged with annoyance.

Mason, I know you can hear me. Why won’t you talk to me?

Silence.

A sudden, almost visceral longing hit me. I really, really needed to speak to Zane.

|| 34 ||

THE NEXT WEEK BROUGHT nothing to ease my anxiety over Mason. Every time I tried to visit, his parents put me off. Or worse, no one answered the door at all. He wouldn’t respond to me through our link, and he seemed to be ignoring my text and voice messages.

Angeline appeared stronger the first couple of days after she came home. But on the third day, she was sitting in the kitchen while her mom baked bread, and she had a grand mal seizure. Ang tumbled off the kitchen stool, her head hit the edge of the counter, and she became the proud owner of four stitches in her scalp.