Chasing Xaris (12 page)

When I was finally all drained and dried, I realized the throb felt… softer. Which was weird and wonderful. Mostly wonderful. But I so wished my cry fest had happened in private.

I took a deep breath and then met Jordan’s eyes. “Sorry,” I said.

He was sitting so close and studying me with a faint frown. “You really believe all that?”

I shrugged and felt the urge to cry all over again.

“That’s how it feels,” I said.

“Like you’re just a responsibility?”

I nodded. “Is it weird to think that?”

“No, I get why you would… but maybe it isn’t true.”

“Maybe.”

I grabbed my soda and took a long drink, letting the fizz coat my sore throat. My whole body felt worn out from all that crying. I could seriously take another nap. But there was so much to do. I needed to talk to Winnie and find a techie who could help me track down this guy. Or maybe I needed to just go to the cops—I finally had some real info to give them.

My eyes drifted to Jordan’s watchful gaze. He still had his arm around me

“Sorry about all the crying,” I said, feeling that fluttery sensation. Again.             

“You don’t have
to keep saying that,” Jordan said.

“But I really am sorry. You didn’t come over for… this.”

“I came to see you,” he said, dropping his arm. “Listen, I have to help my brother this afternoon. He’s packing up some boards and heading to Jax Beach for the weekend. Want to hang out later?”

“Later tonight? I sort of have plans with Winnie.”

Jordan grimaced. “I still don’t get that.”

“Get w
hat?”

“Winnie.”

“She’s nice, Jordan. You just don’t know her.” I paused. “You should totally come over tonight.”

“I should totally not.”

“Come on. We’ll watch some ridiculous movie, and you can mock it the whole time.”

“Chandler, I want to hang out with you. I totally do. But I’m not up for a movie night with Winnie just yet.”

“Fine. But if you change your mind then come over.”

“Okay,” he said, but I knew he wouldn’t come. Even back in the day, Jordan and Winnie had rarely, if ever, hung out together.

Jordan finished his soda and grabbed our plates. I stood as he did and followed him to the door. My eyes kept drifting to his shoulders, how they were narrow but firm at the same time. And he seemed so much taller than before.

As he turned toward me, blood rushed to my face. We were standing so close, and he had that determined look again.

I took a step back, remembering the feel of his hands around me.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Bloom,” he said.

“Mr. Lane,” I said.

He gave me a small grin, as if he knew his effect on me, and then headed into the hall and down the stairs.

I leaned against the doorframe, feeling the thump of my heart. Memories of our kiss came swiftly. The soft feel of his skin. The way water had dripped down from his hair. The kiss itself. It had been so bold and deep and so… Jordan.

I
pushed Jordan from my mind and climbed into bed, knowing that I needed to call Winnie or even the police. That was the logical next step. But honestly? I just wanted to avoid Gran, take another nap, and deal with everything when I woke up. A couple of hours wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, I’d been going nonstop since Wednesday—I deserved a break. Even if that meant a few nightmares.

So that’s what I did. I changed into a comfy tank top and napped the afternoon away.

I woke up with a vague sense of fear, though I couldn’t remember what I’d dreamed. My room was so dark. I checked my phone and saw it was already six. Winnie had texted about coming over at seven. Jordan hadn’t texted, but I hadn’t expected him to. Okay, maybe I had sort-of-kind-of-little-bit expected him to.

I forced myself up onto my elbows and felt my head swim, like I’d just been dunked by a wave. Which made me think of my board. How long since I’d surfed? Two days? It felt like so much longer.

I swung my feet onto the floor and vowed to surf the next morning. I went to the bathroom and returned to my room, staring at the closed bedroom door. My stomach was grumbling, but I didn’t want to risk running into Gran on my way to the kitchen. Maybe she’d already left for her gala. I went to the door and listened for a minute. I didn’t hear any movement in the hall. Carefully, I creaked the door open, slinked to the staircase, and looked down. I froze.

Gran stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hand on the banister. She wore a floor-length ivory ball gown. Her hair was clipped low, cascading halfway down her back in a stream of curls.

My chest tightened. Gran looked so much more like Mom with her hair down.

“I have an event tonight,” Gran said.

“Oh,” I said.

Both of us stared at the other.

“You look nice,” I said.

“Thank you.” Gran glanced down and smoothed the folds of her shimmering dress. “The gala will run late, but there’s lasagna in the fridge.” She kept her eyes on her dress.

“Winnie’s going to spend the night,” I said. I hadn’t even tho
ught to ask Gran for permission. I was technically “in trouble.” I didn’t really know how Gran and Grandpa disciplined—we’d never had a run-in before.

“That’s fine.” Gran looked fully up at me, here blue eyes moist. “
Chandler, I loved your mother very much.”

I squeezed the banister. “I know.”

“All right.”

I waited. I didn’t know what else I wanted Gran to say, something about me probably, but she turned toward the door.

“Well, good night,” she said.

“’Night.”

And then she left.

I stayed motionless as the garage door opened, and moments later, closed again.

I wondered if things would ever be normal again with Gran. But what was normal with us? Strained courtesy or silent fighting. That’s all we’d ever known. Even before my parents had died, I had always felt off around her. Like I wasn’t a good match.

With a shake of my head, I started down the stairs. I didn’t want to spend my precious alone time obsessing over Gran. I needed to figure out what all I was going to tell the police.

As I reached the base of the stairs, I heard a knock on the front door.

I opened it and expected to see Winnie. I definitely didn’t expect to see my teacher.

“
Hola
, Chandler,” Mr. Whit said. He was smiling and wearing his customary blazer and scarf combo. “May I come in?”

“Um, sure,” I said, stepping aside.

He strode into the entryway, and I closed the door, wondering why he was there. Teachers were supposed to be at school. In my mind, they pretty much ate and slept there.

“I’m sure you’re curious about this unprompted visit,” Mr. Whit said. His gaze swept from the living room to the stairs.

“Sort of,” I admitted.

“I wanted to check and see how your
Aletheian research was going.” He turned to face me fully, and I took in the tense lines of his face.

A tingling sensation spread outward from my spine.

Mr. Whit circled around me, putting himself between me and the front door.

“Did you find Rex Shoemaker’s list?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

I inched away from him toward the living room. This wasn’t right. My teacher shouldn’t be here.

“
Fantástico
. And what did you think of it?” Mr. Whit asked.

“It was… interesting.”

“Yes?” He inched forward. His brown eyes were so bright and wide. He looked a little… crazed.

And then it clicked.

Fellow Lot.

A lot. The opposite of a whit.

My teacher went by a different name online.

“
W

HICH
coordinates do you think are correct?” Mr. Whit asked. His voice sounded so high. Had his tone changed, or was it just the ringing in my ears?

This man had killed my parents.

My stomach lurched into my ribcage. Blood rushed to my face, pounding behind my eyes, in my ears. And my chest kept convulsing, trying to vomit out what was so clearly the truth.

I wanted to lunge at this man, rip into him with my nails. But something stopped me, some deep warning screamed for me to escape. I wasn’t safe. I needed to get out of this house.

“Let me look at the list again,” I said hoarsely. “It’s in the kitchen.”

I walked toward the back door, the one in the kitchen that led to the garage. My legs felt stiff beneath me. My feet felt heavy.

Three more steps. Two more steps. And then I’d swing the door open, slap the garage button, and run like crazy.

But then the back door opened. A strange man stepped into the kitchen.

My heart pounded. I turned, trying to bolt, but his arm wrapped around my neck. I gasped, scratching at the arm. It was so hairy.

My attacker tightened his hold. Another arm pressed against the back of my head.

I screamed but only a muffled sound came out. Pressure pounded on my throat.

“Mr. Whitaker?” Winnie’s voice asked.

She sounded so far away. Was she really here?

The edges of my vision grew fuzzy. I was being lifted to the balls of my feet. And then blackness swept in and swallowed me whole.

~~~

I awoke slowly, like I was climbing out of a deep well of sleep. My head ached, and my stomach felt queasy. Everything was so foggy. I blinked and blinked, and slowly light crept in, revealing my grandparents’ living room. I was sitting on their couch with my ankles duct taped together. My hands were tied behind my back and duct tape covered my mouth.

Someone stood in front of me. His back blocked my view from anything else. Then, the back turned slightly, revealing Mr. Whit’s profile. He was carrying a gun.

A shiver raced down my spine.

It all came rushing back: Mr. Whit showing up at my grandparents’ house, the man with the hairy arms grabbing me. He’d held me until I’d passed out. But there was no way I would have stayed out so long—they must have drugged me.

Mr. Whit shifted, and I saw Winnie across from me in one of the oversized chairs.

I swallowed hard. She wasn’t supposed to be here. I had to get her out of this.

Gran wouldn’t be home until late, but maybe a neighbor had seen something? Maybe not. Those huge hedges kept the house so
secluded. Still, a neighbor could have been walking past. But what would they have seen? I had let Mr. Whit inside.

I still didn’t know how the second guy had gotten into the garage. Maybe he’d slipped in when Gran was leaving. The
lights above the driveway had been out lately, so it would have been dark. That probably wasn’t a coincidence. Mr. Whit must have tampered with those lights, keeping our driveway dark on purpose.

“Jordan,” Mr. Whit said. “Are you awake?”

My body pulsed.

Jordan?

Someone was grunting and flailing on the other oversized chair, the one I couldn’t see because of Mr. Whit.

“Stop fighting, Jordan,” Mr. Whit said. “It’s best for
Chandler and Winifred if you cooperate.”

The grunting stopped.

I craned my neck around Mr. Whit’s back and spotted him.

No way.
Jordan had turned down my invitation. I’d heard him turn it down. But there he was. He and Winnie were both bound like me and watching our teacher. Jordan’s eyes blazed with fury while Winnie’s were wide with panic.

Mr. Whit turned to me. “Oh, good.
Chandler is awake,” he said, without meeting my gaze. He walked toward the staircase and addressed the room, like we were in class. “I would like to thank each of you for your cooperation.”

He sounded so sincere. I wanted to vomit.

“I agree,” another voice said.

My att
acker. He stood off to the side by the curtained windows.

“It’s been a
very smooth process so far,” my attacker said. He looked so much like Mr. Whit, same muscular build and blond hair. He was shorter, though, with his hair combed neatly to one side. He held a gun too.

“Forgive me for our drastic measures,” Mr. Whit said, “but my
hermano
was right to suggest them.” He nodded to the shorter man. “This is Gene.”

Gene smiled widely. His teeth shone ten shades brighter than white. “Hello all,” he said. “Let’s begin.”

He crossed to me. “If you scream, I’ll shoot your friends.” He didn’t flinch or even frown. He spoke so matter-of-factly.

I eyed his gun.

“It has a silencer,” Gene said. “Understand?”

I nodded,
and he ripped duct tape from my mouth.

My skin howled. I cried out, seeing a faint smile play on Gene’s lips.

“Murderer,” I said hoarsely.

His face grew solemn. “I wish it hadn’t had to happen that way. I tried to convince your father to join my cause—I even showed him
Santiago’s notebook. But he had this irritating sense of duty to the Aletheians. He stole the notebook and meant to return it to them. We had to chase him down, of course.” Gene rubbed his forehead, almost pensive.

My skin felt fire-hot. “You’re insane.”

“You might feel that way,” Gene said, “but it was a very calculated decision.” The lamp’s golden glow made him look saintly instead of villainous. I wanted to crack it over his smoothly combed head.

“We’ve trailed our young
Aletheian
for several years now,” Gene said. “We discovered the island’s coordinates, but our Aletheian
always managed to elude us at the last second. So we waited to see if he would reach out to anyone—someone who would gain his trust and lead us to him. But our Aletheian
wouldn’t let his guard down for anyone except your father.” Gene paused, his eyes shining. “And now, you.”

So they wanted me to help them capture Ari. Did they think I would break where Dad had stood strong?

“I won’t help you,” I said.

“I think you will,” Gene said.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve learned from my mistake,” Gene replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “I threatened your father’s life, and he still refused to help me. But if I would have threatened your life or your mother’s life, well, he would have caved. They’d still be alive.”

Gene moved behind Winnie’s chair. “You’ll help me, Chandler Bloom, because you care for your friends.”

He brushed
Winnie’s cheek with his fingers. She jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch her!” I said.

Jordan lunged toward Winnie, but Gene shoved him back into the chair.

“Don’t move.” Gene aimed his gun at
Jordan. “My brother and I will punish disobedience.”

“I don’t like this, Gene,” Mr. Whit said, staying near the stairs.

“We’ll be done soon,” Gene replied, “long before the grandmother returns.”

I looked from one brother to the other. What did that mean?

Gene gave Jordan a pointed look before turning to me. He smoothed his button-down shirt and straightened his stance.

“We assumed our
Aletheian
had given you xaris,” Gene continued. “I wanted to confront you immediately, but Alex had begun a more subtle plan.” He frowned at his brother. “He insisted we try that first.”

I glanced at Mr. Whit. The coward still wouldn’t look at me. He kept his gaze down, bunching the ends of his scarf in his hands.

“You see, Alex is an amateur web designer,” Gene said. “He even created an Aletheian website without my knowledge.” Gene nodded to Jordan. “He told you about it, didn’t he, young man?”

Jordan glowered
at him. The veins on his neck bulged as he strained against the duct tape.

“I had Alex take the site down, of course,” Gene said. “But he created another, leading you right to the island.”

The Rex Shoemaker list.

I’d been Mr. Whit’s pawn. All along. He’d looped a leash around my neck and yanked me along. And I had gone. All the way to
Aletheia Island and back.

“We didn’t intercept you quite as planned,” Gene said. He flashed me his unnaturally white smile. “But all is well now. You’ll give us xaris.”

Heat crept up my neck, pooling in my cheeks. If Mr. Whit had known that xaris was on Santiago’s journal, my parents would still be alive.

“You already had xaris,” I said. “It was on
Santiago’s journal.”

“Are you certain?” Mr. Whit asked. He was finally looking at me, and his gaze was curious—without a trace of guilt.

An acid taste rose in my throat.

“You really went there, didn’t you,
señorita
?” Mr. Whit asked. “What was it like? What are the Aletheians like?”

I blinked. Did he seriously expect me to chat with him?

“Where is the xaris now?” Gene asked me.

“I don’t have it,” I said. “They took it from me.”

Gene scowled and knelt before me. “I’ve never liked liars,” he said.

The locket felt heavy around my neck.

“I really don’t have it anymore,” I said.

“I really don’t believe you,” Gene said.

“That’s your problem.”

A muscle in Gene’s jaw twitched. He gave me a small smile and strolled the short distance to Winnie, placing a hand on the back of her chair.

“Chandler, tell me the truth or face the consequences,” Gene said.

My ears pounded.

“Which do you choose?” he asked.

I hesitated.

Gene
smacked Winnie’s face with his gun.

“Stop it!” I lunged forward, but Mr. Whit gripped my shoulder, keeping me firmly in place.

Winnie shook violently. Tears spilled down her face.

Gene aimed his gun at Jordan. “Stay seated, or the girl will pay for your disobedience.”

Was Winnie bleeding? I had to help her.

“Now, will you tell me where I can find the xaris?” Gene asked me, perfectly calm. As if smacking people with guns was no big deal.

I didn’t reply.

Ari’s people had lived in seclusion for centuries. I couldn’t betray an entire civilization. Who
would do that?

Gene sighed, pointing the gun at Winnie. “Speak,” he said.

I stared at Winnie’s convulsing face. It wasn’t worth this. No secret, however great, was worth this.

“I have xaris,” I said. “Just leave her alone, okay?”

“Gene, you can stop now,” Mr. Whit said. “Where’s the xaris, Chandler?”

I glared at him, but he only raised an eyebrow.

“Where?” he repeated.

“I’ll tell you if you let Jordan and Winnie go,” I said.
             

Mr. Whit shook his head. “You’re in no position to make requests. Tell us about the xaris, and then we’ll discuss how to proceed.”

I hesitated.

Gene raised his gun.

“My locket,” I said.             

Mr. Whit’s eyes flickered to my neck. He leaned down, freed the locket from my neck, and held it up to the lamplight.

“Her initials,” Mr. Whit said. “A. I.” He fumbled with the locket and popped it open. “It’s her!”

“Where is the xaris?” Gene pressed.

“Behind the picture,” I said.

Mr. Whit slowly peeled back the picture. He gasped softly and plucked the xaris free.

“So small,” he whispered, turning the blue light in his hand. His eyes glittered. “Looks like we’re all taking a trip to
Aletheia Island.”