Crave (9 page)

“You want me to use my power to make them leave her alone?”

“No. I want to do it.” With Savannah's looks, this could become a weekly problem. And I didn't want to have to go to my sister for help every time.

Emily didn't even hesitate. “No.”

“You won't teach me?”

“No. You know the rules. Not just Mom and Dad, but
all
the elders would kill me or worse if I teach you anything I know. You can only learn from an elder, no one else.”

I groaned and ran both hands through my hair.

“Oh, calm down, you spoiled brat. You're a Coleman. You know you'll get your way in the end. You're just making this way too hard.” Emily pushed a button on the remote clipped to her visor. The wrought-iron gates swung open ahead of us at our driveway's entrance and we pulled through, the gravel crunching like potato chips under the car's tires.

“Oh, so you think I should just beat them up, lose any chance of going to college and break our mother's heart? Okay, but remember, it was your idea.”

“Of course not, you idiot. I meant that you need to learn from an elder how to protect her.” She pulled into the garage and let me think over her suggestion while the door slid shut behind us.

“Yeah, I guess I could ask Dad. But you know their rules about her. They would kill me just for saying her name, let alone for trying to help her.”

“Who says they need to know how the information will be used? You know Dad's been waiting for you to start taking your training seriously. So why not make our dear old dad happy for a change?”

I stared ahead into the gloom of the dim garage, thinking over everything Emily was and wasn't saying.

She was right. Dad did want me to “buckle down and train harder”—harped on it, in fact. And self-defense was the first thing he'd taught Emily after she'd learned to ground her energy. So the odds were pretty good that I could get him to start on the same type of stuff with me. A hint or two from me about being ready to focus and needing help in the self-defense area should do it. But would I learn what I needed to fast enough to help Savannah? The Creepy Three might come
to their senses with a little distance, time and sleep tonight. Or they might not. What if they were making plans right now to catch her alone somewhere?

“What time did Dad say he'd be home tonight?”

Emily glanced at her watch with a smile. “In half an hour.”

I jumped out of the car, leaving my books on the seat. “I'd better go change.”

“Don't you need your books?”

I shook my head and gave her a grim smile. “I'll be too busy. Got a different kind of homework tonight.”

“Okay. Just be sure to ask Dad how to do a targeted memory confusion spell. Every time those creeps try to get near Savannah, they'll become confused and go away again. Put it in something small to hide in her backpack, and you're all set.”

“Thanks.” I shot her a grin then ran inside and up to my room.

Savannah

I thought about telling my family about today's algebra class. But they all seemed stressed about me already. I knew if I told them, Dad would have to tell the vampire council. Both the Clann and the council already thought I was a ticking time bomb. If they knew I was changing already, what would they do? Would they take me out of school? Would they take me away from Nanna and Mom and my friends?

So on the way home from dance class, I decided to give it another day and see what happened. Then if I felt like I really couldn't handle things, I would ask for help.

“Hey, hon, how was your day?” Mom called from her couch office as Nanna and I entered the house. Mom seemed tense, her elbows braced on her knees, her cell phone strangely
quiet for once. Had she been waiting for me to come home and report?

“It was fine. But I really need a shower now. Ballet and jazz class were…” Great. Fabulous. Amazing. “Brutal.” I made a beeline for the bathroom so neither of them could see my face while I lied. “What's for dinner?”

I should have known avoiding them wouldn't be so easy.

Mom came into the bathroom just as I was pouring on the shampoo. Great, now I was trapped for at least the next few minutes. Knowing my mother, she'd probably timed it that way, too.

“Did you have any…issues today?” she asked, obviously trying and failing to sound casual.

My throat choked up. Part of me was desperate to wimp out and tell her everything.

I slid open the frosted-glass door an inch and peeked at her. Worry lines creased her forehead. I shut the door again and scrubbed my hair faster. “It was fine. Though dancing today was…different. My dancing is a lot better now.”

Silence.

Finally, she said, “Define ‘a lot.'”

“Um, like I was able to get my splits down to the floor finally. And I learned how to do high kicks and turns and leaps without taking out any of the other students for a change.”

She laughed. “Well, that sounds good, then. Anything else?”

Besides the fact that I seemed to have created a scary new fan club and my friends couldn't stand it when I looked them in the eye? “Nope.”

“Okay. Well, I'd better go help your grandma get dinner ready. I'm glad you had a good day.”

“Thanks, Mom. I'll be out in a minute.” My stomach, already knotted and rolling with acid, cramped at the idea of
eating. Lying could make a really good diet plan for me, if it didn't kill me first.

She left the room, shutting the door behind her, and I found I could suddenly breathe again.

Now all I had to do was pray that tomorrow would prove none of us had anything to worry about in the first place.

Tristan

I took a deep breath at his study door then knocked.

“Come in,” Dad's voice boomed out.

Inside, I was surprised to find Emily already there. She gave him a hug.

“Thanks for listening, Daddy,” she said as she walked toward me and the door.

“Anytime, Princess,” he replied, a big smile barely visible beneath his bushy silver beard.

Huh? I searched Emily's face, trying to figure out why she was here. She never came to Dad's study, preferring to chat with him either at the dinner table or while they played golf together.

She gave me a sneaky two thumbs-up before she passed me and left the room. She was up to something. I'd have to trust that it was helpful somehow.

“Hello, son. Come and have a seat.” He sounded stern, his smile gone now.

Trying to act relaxed, I sat in one of the two leather chairs before his massive oak desk.

“Dressed for sports?” He loosened his tie and sat back down in his desk chair.

I glanced down at the hoodie and sweatpants I'd changed into. “Yeah, training practice.”

“Hmm. Yes. Well, that reminds me. I'm glad you came in here. I heard you had a bit of trouble today at school?”

My hands nearly clenched up before I could stop them. What had Emily told him? “Yeah, a little.”

“She also said you needed her help?”

Emily wouldn't have ratted on me about our conversation in the car. Would she?

“I see.” He must have misunderstood my silence for an answer. “So the grounding training hasn't helped?”

Oh. So Emily had told him about my power spikes instead. “Well, sort of. She told me how to ground by using a tree at school. And it helped.”

“Mmm-hmm. But it sounds like you still have a lot of excess energy?” He took another sip of his drink, picked up a letter on his desk and began to read it in silence.

I was losing his attention already. “That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, sir. I've still got a lot of energy sometimes, even with the grounding. And I was thinking today that maybe it keeps building up because I'm not putting it to good use.”

His sharp green eyes bored into me. He dropped the letter and set down his drink on his desk blotter, the dull thud loud in the too-quiet room. “Go on.”

Had I already messed up? “So I was thinking…maybe it's time for me to really focus on my training. Emily said the powers won't go away by ignoring them. But if I could learn how to use them—”

“Stop right there.”

Crap, I'd already screwed up somehow. I held my breath.

He rose from his chair and came around the desk toward me. “You're saying that, after months of refusing to work on your training,
now
you're ready to buckle down and learn?”

I cleared my throat, waited a beat, then nodded.

A slow smile spread across his face before he clapped a huge paw of a hand on my shoulder. “Well, all right, then, let's get
started! You're already dressed for training. That's good. Have you eaten? If you grounded at school today, you're gonna need to fortify the body and fuel the energy, you know.”

I grinned with relief and rose to my feet. “Yeah, Dad. I just had a couple of sandwiches and some milk.”

“Good, good, good. Then let's head to the backyard and get going. We've got a lot to cover.”

I glanced down at the slacks and dress shirt he still wore. “Uh, don't you need to change?”

“Why waste time? I've got a million suits.”

As we stepped out the patio door to the backyard barely visible in the dusk, I took another chance. “Hey, Dad, do you think we could start with some self-defense training?”

“Problems at school?”

I forced a laugh. “Oh, you know, nothing a good right hook wouldn't take care of. But you know Mom and how much she wants me to go to college.”

He chuckled. “I understand completely. Gotta go the subtle route this time, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, sure, we can start with some defensive training. Although if you ever get ready for a real fight…”

“You'll be the first to know, Dad, I promise.”

“All right. Have a seat there on the grass while I pull up a chair.” He grabbed a wicker chair from the back patio, brought it onto the lawn and sat down, muttering, “Getting too old to sit on the ground.”

I sat in front of him, legs crossed kid-style as he'd taught me for grounding training even though it seemed stupid. I felt like a kindergartner getting ready for story time.

“Okay, so here's the basics of casting a spell. Every witch starts off at the beginner level of spellcasting by saying a word and using a small hand gesture. This helps you focus and
control when the spell is actually cast, until you learn how to discipline your mind. Someday, when you're ready, I'll teach you how to cast a spell even if you're tied up with your mouth taped shut, just by thinking the word and using your willpower. Eventually you'll learn to cast a spell even without a word at all, just by thinking about the results you want to create. Like you do when you create fire or ground your energy.”

As much as I hated magic, I had to admit, throwing a spell with just my mind would be kind of cool.

He continued. “The first thing you need to know is, when someone is coming at you, you've gotta react fast. So we'll start with the word and hand gesture to cast a blocking spell. Just remember, though, no spell's going to work until you really want it to.

“Now, are you feeling confident?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then stand up.”

I obeyed.

“And come at me.”

“Sir?”

“Go on. Try to come at me like you're gonna tackle me.”

I took two slow steps toward him. And found myself ten yards away, walking in the opposite direction, and a million tiny stabs of pain racing over my neck and arms.

I muttered a curse and shook my head, rubbing the sensation from my skin. Was this how all the descendants felt when a Coleman used magic near them? No wonder the descendants hated it when I had power spikes at school.

“See how it works?” he said as I walked back. “It just moves you away and turns you around. Really good for fighting in hard-to-see situations, because it can confuse your attacker and give you time to get away.”

I nodded and paid close attention as he taught me the word and wrist flick. But when I tried it for myself, nothing happened.

“Ah, but you've really got to want it to happen, son. Your will is the key to it all. Now try again. This time, I'll come at you.”

He walked toward me. I said the word and performed the hand gesture. And…nothing.

He glared at me. “Tristan Glenn Coleman. You can do better than that. Boy, I'm gonna tan your backside if you don't get it in gear!” He came at me, his long legs eating up the distance between us despite his huge gut. I'd never realized he could move that fast.

Fear rammed through me, making me feel like a little kid about to get a serious butt whipping. I whispered the spell. Then he was at the end of the backyard and facing the opposite direction.

“All right! You did it!” He walked toward me, beaming. “I thought I might have to give you some motivation there.”

He was faking it? “Well, it worked.” My laugh sounded shaky even to my own ears.

The garden lights kicked on, flooding the yard and reminding me that time was running out fast.

“Okay, what's next?” I said.

“Whoa, slow down, Tristan. Don't you think you ought to practice that one a few more times?”

I reached for the energy within. Closing my eyes, I mentally whispered the word to that energy. When I opened my eyes, I focused on Dad and visualized myself performing the wrist flick at him. He reappeared at the other end of the yard.

He strolled back, shaking his head. His eyes, green copies of mine but wrinkled at the corners, were wide beneath his
thick eyebrows. “Wow, son. You didn't even use the word or hand gesture!”

“I did, just in my mind instead.”

“Impressive. That's not usually something we teach until the fourth or fifth year of training. Remember, though, you can use the silent casting method, but you've gotta be extra careful if you're only considering casting the spell. You have to keep your will out of it. Otherwise as soon as you think of the spell, you'll end up casting it. That's why we usually start off with the verbal method first. It gives you better control.”