Descendant (9 page)

Should I warn someone about the stranger? No one else saw him. Would anyone believe me?
I decide to wait. If I happen to see Mr. Akers, maybe I’ll mention it to him.
If it feels right.

The restaurant has a lodge-type atmosphere with hardwood floors and rough log walls, and is packed to overflowing with kids from our school. This café is the only one open, so everyone is sharing tables. We crowd around a corner table, which we share with three guys who came in behind us.

Rose and Jen manage to arrange things so they’re squeezed between the guys, flirting and giggling before I’ve even figured out where to sit. The booth’s c-shaped bench is already crowded. “Uh.”

Rose sees me hesitate and comes to my rescue. “Everyone scoot in so Abby can fit.”

The guys compress their shoulders and try to squish together, like that will create more room. The five of them look like sardines already.
Thanks, but no thanks.
“Maybe I’ll just—you’re already packed in there pretty tightly. Looks claustrophobic.”

Jen snaps glittering fingers at the guy on the end. She and Rose must have done their nails while they waited for me. “Brian, don’t just sit there. Go get Abby a chair.”

“Why me?” he whines.

Rose glowers at him. “Because you’re on the end. Man up.”

As Brian stalks away, Rose pats the spot he just vacated. “Saved you a seat.”

Before I can sit, Eric slides into the empty spot, grinning. “Hey. So, since you’re here, I’m going to assume you’ll be accompanying me to the party. And tomorrow, a bunch of us—”

“We have plans tomorrow.” Rose attempts to shove him off the bench.

“I wasn’t asking you, Rose.” Eric ignores her attempts to dislodge him and unrolls the flatware from one of the linen napkins, fiddling with the dull butter knife like he’s nervous. “I’m thinking we could—”

Brian clunks a chair down so hard it clatters, teetering precariously before settling on all four legs. He glares at Eric. “You’re in my seat.”

Eric’s lips pucker like he’s just eaten a lemon. “You going to drag me out of it?”

“If I have to.”

Rose’s eyes go wide with merriment, though I can’t figure out what she finds amusing.

Reluctantly, Eric stands. He glares at Brian for several long seconds before sidestepping with a sweep of his hands. Brian blocks the spot but doesn’t sit. Eric looks at me, his eyes imploring. “Shall we?”

He wants me to go with him now?

Jen saves me the trouble of responding. “Abby needs to eat, Eric. None of us wants a repeat of yesterday’s performance.”

Eric narrows his eyes, calculating, and points to the chair Brian has just delivered. “Sit. Eat. I want you to be able to dance with me later.” He gives Brian a withering look. “If you’re smart, you’ll keep your hands to yourself.”

“You wish.” Very deliberately, Brian drapes one arm across Rose’s shoulders then grabs the leg of my chair, pulling me right up to his side. “Now, this is cozy.”

I pick up the edges of my chair and scoot back. Eric slams a hand on the table between me and Brian.

“Boys.” Rose’s voice is stern, like a parent, and heads turn our way.

Eric’s chest heaves with anger, his breath puffing out so hard I swear it looks like he’s blowing smoke, but he doesn’t look at Brian again. “Have a good dinner,” he grumbles. “I’ll see you at the party.”

He stalks off as I sink behind a menu, wishing I could curl up and
die of humiliation.
Did I or did I not tell him I don’t like him? And I don’t even know Brian.

A few minutes later, a forty-something waitress shows up to take our order. She pulls a pencil out of her wispy brown bun and taps the table with it as she rattles off the specials. “What can I get for you?” she asks, apparently deciding to start with me. I haven’t looked at the menu so much as hide behind it.

“Uh,” I say. “I haven’t ... maybe, um ...”

“Why don’t you start with someone else? Give her a minute.” A familiar voice, sweet as honey to my ears and as welcome as it is unexpected, draws my gaze behind the waitress. The woman smiles at Kye before turning her attention to Brian.

“Mind if I join your group?”

There’s not much room, but I scoot over and Kye slides a chair next to me. Under the table, his fingers find mine. I’m flustered and angry and so very confused, but I allow Kye to enfold my hand in his, grateful to feel my imbalance settling.
We so have to talk.

“Ahem.” The waitress taps her menu, impatient.

Kye glances up. “Thanks for making room for me, guys.” He concentrates on the menu. “What’s good here?”

While Kye orders, Rose catches my eye and hisses, “Seriously?”

“When did this happen?” Jen sets a misshapen fork on the table, gesturing to the waitress that she’ll need a new one.

I bite my lip, shaking my head. “Later.” Except I plan to omit around ninety percent of the details. How could I even try to explain what I don’t understand myself?

To my relief, now that Eric’s gone, Brian directs all his attention to Rose. I still don’t know the names of the other boys, and except for the occasional comment and a few speculative glances, they all but ignore me now that Kye’s here. He holds the menu in front of my face, indicating that it’s my turn to order. “If you don’t hurry and pick something, I’m ordering for you.”

Rose’s gaze turns into a glare, though I’m not sure if it’s intended for me or Kye. I hope I haven’t unknowingly stepped into her territory. That would be bad. So bad. With a sigh, I order a cup of chicken noodle soup, wondering how on earth I’ll unmake my newest mess.

The
  restaurant fills with people, and the low din of voices turns into wild chatter until Rose talks the waitress into turning on some music. Then the volume becomes obnoxious, leaving my head throbbing. After we’ve paid our bills, Kye takes my hand and leads me out. The party is just getting started.

The lobby isn’t any quieter. Flames crackle merrily in the enormous rock fireplace dominating the middle of the room, surrounded by a crowd of people lounging on the floor and in log chairs. Crystal is one of those people, and judging from her frosty glare, she’s still angry about something. My boots squeak on the hardwood as I follow Kye outside, away from everyone. A gust of frigid winter air hits me in the face and sends a shiver all the way down to my toes.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold,” Kye says. “I thought we’d get away from the noise for a minute. We need to talk.”

I breathe in the crisp, pine-scented air. “Rose loves the crowd.”

“Yeah. Leave it to Rose.” He blows into his hands for warmth. “I bet the Inn’s owners are happy. It’s usually closed for another month.”

“I heard.” I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.

Kye’s teeth chatter. “Yeah, that girl has some influence over the people running this place.”

“She must,” I say, thinking about the waitress in the restaurant, the
cooks, check-in clerks, and housekeeping. Then I remember seeing the gift shop doors open. “I wonder how she did it.”

“Rose has a ... special talent when it comes to talking to people. Haven’t you noticed?”

I bite back a smile. “How could I not? She and Jen practically railroaded me into coming, and I don’t even know how. I’m usually not so easily swayed.”

“Now, that I can believe.” Kye pulls me closer, running his palms up my sleeves, inching me toward him until his arms are wound around me and we’re shivering together, the white puffs of our breath mingling in a common cloud. “Is this ... are you okay with me holding you like this?”

My only response is a nod, because I am okay. I’m more than okay. I’m home. But I still need my questions answered. “Before we turn into Popsicles, are you going to explain to me about the bus thing?”

“Yes, right. I’m sorry about that. It was unexpected or I would’ve warned you.”

“What
did
happen, exactly?”

He takes a long, deep breath and puffs it out.
He doesn’t know I know.
“What would you say if I told you I have a pet moose?”

I hear my own laugh tinkle out, muffled in the blanket of snow surrounding us. “I’d ask his name and wonder what he was doing so far from home.”

Kye swallows again, his smile uncertain.
He’s nervous.
“His name’s Finn, and he was looking for me.”

Recognizing the hesitation in his voice, I send him an encouraging look. If he was raised hearing the same warnings as me all his life, this might be the hardest confession he’ll ever make.
Go on. Tell me more. Tell me all.
“How did you come to have a pet moose?”

“Funny thing is, he found me. I’d been living here for about two months and I’d never been so lost in my life. Literally. Val’s house is out in the sticks, and I went for a walk and couldn’t find my way back. Then I looked up and there he was, all alone and scared. He let me climb on his back, even though he was just a tiny little thing, and brought me home. Val let me keep him.”

“Just like that? How did you know he wouldn’t, you know, gouge you with his rack or something?”

Kye grins. “He didn’t have a rack then. He was just a baby. But I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, because he ... told me.”

I turn my head to better see his face. “What do you mean, he told you? Like, with his eyes? Because you could see he was kind?”

“No, he—I—” Kye clears his throat, staring at the trees, his chin resting on my shoulder. “We communicate. Always have. Different from talking, but kind of the same. I understand a lot of things other people don’t. The rustling of the leaves in the trees, the squeaks and sounds of animals, the language of basic elementals ...”

Gifted.
The word rolls around in my head until I feel it forming in my mouth, and still I have to test it before I can actually say it. The taste is strange, sweet. Forbidden. “Gifted.”

“Yes. Like you.” He draws away, staring into my eyes until I can see his questions mirrored there. Knowing what’s coming fills me with that frightening anxiety Gram instilled in me. The idea that if I tell, bad, bad things will happen to me and everyone I love. I am momentarily speechless. “Not your average teenagers, I guess.”

He smells like pine and musk and something else—something sweet, like a mixture of tree sap and flowers—as I take his face in my hands. “Average equals boring.”

My feet leave the ground when he lifts me up and twirls me around, eyes closed. “You’re right. Nothing boring about us.” We’re both grinning when he puts me down.

“How did you know? About me?” I ask.

“I don’t know how. I just—I saw you and something you did triggered a picture, maybe a memory—I don’t know. I just knew. That’s all.”

Could he have Sight too? No. Having one Gift is rare. Having two? I’m an anomaly. An original. Even Gram didn’t know what to make of my Sight.

His thumb brushes the side of my neck and my stomach leaps with desire, a longing that burns in the back of my throat. That small amount of contact makes me ache for something I don’t understand. Not just kissing or even sex, nothing as simple as that—but a need that is foreign and unidentifiable.

“Tell me about you. About your Gift,” he murmurs in my ear. His heart ka-thunks under my hand on his chest.

“I’m a Healer.” He raises one eyebrow as if waiting for me to go on. “Herbs, crystals, life energy—”

“Have you ever ...?”

A jolt of pain seizes my heart, stealing my breath until I choke on the cold, shaking my head. “No. I’ve never Healed anyone. Well, except my dog, Erda.”

“But you’ve tried.”

I nod.

The moon sparkles in his golden hair as he searches my face and tucks errant auburn tresses behind my ears. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure I could if I tried.”

Leaning in, he strokes my jaw, his face so close I can feel his breath on my chin. “You can trust me, Abby. Your secrets are safe here.”

Something flutters in my chest, filling me with warmth.
Kiss me! Now. Just kiss me!
But if he does, I’ll be too distracted to tell him the rest, and I find I want him to know, so I whisper, “I have Sight too.”

Kye’s eyes pop open and he leans back a little. “Sight?”

I nod, dreading the explanation. Dreading seeing the look on his face when he realizes what an awful thing this is. Anything but a Gift. “I can see auras, energy, and on rare occasions, visions.”

He tilts his head, frowning as he processes this information. “What kind of visions?”

“The kind that give me nightmares.” I break away from him to stand alone, shivering with the absence of his touch. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. If Gram knew, if she were alive, we’d be living in the South Pole tomorrow.”

Kye doesn’t move, seemingly dumbstruck by my admission. My heart sinks, but now that I’ve opened the secret vault, I can’t stop. More explanations spew out.

“Sometimes I see things happening to people far away. Usually it’s the same boy, but not always ...” I trail off as I look at him, a sudden realization making my thudding heart drop into my toes and then start thumping again, harder. Kye looks a lot like the boy in my visions. A lot.