Heirs of War (4 page)

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered as
she spotted Tate. "Him I do know. I need to take care of something. Can I catch up with you later?"

"I guess," Alexis said. "Call me later."

Rhaya nodded, barely hearing her as she said her goodbyes. She made a beeline for Tate with the intention of demanding answers from him, but her plans skidded to a halt along with her brisk walk when the girl on the brick wall greeted Tate as if they were old friends. The girl was her around her age with ginger hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Tate had his back to Rhaya, so she could see his friend's face. She had a light complexion, though not pale like Rhaya. Rhaya had given up on the idea of a tan when she turned fourteen, but this girl looked like she might tan if she spent enough time in the sun, which she obviously didn't. She had freckles sprinkled across her nose and accenting her round cheeks.

The idea of Tate having friends here eased Rhaya's temper. Did this mean he was truly from here as he said, or had he been following her closely enough and long enough to make friends in her area? Sometimes she hated her so-called
gift
and how incredibly vague her hunches tended to be. Deciding to test Tate's friend as to how open she would be, Rhaya continued her march over to them. The girl had seen her coming and had drawn Tate's attention to her arrival as well.

"Tate?
" Rhaya greeted. "What a surprise!"

The
delight wiped right off Tate's face as he turned around to address her, and she sensed his nerves spiking from the moment of recognition. His gaze flashed between the two girls as if he had been busted somehow. In a way, Rhaya knew he had been. She just couldn't explain why.

"Rhaya," he said her name with a slight grimace. "I didn't expect to run into you again so soon."

Rhaya gave him a punch in the arm that was a bit too hard to be considered jovial. She stood her ground as he glowered at her. "Well, why would you when we only see each other on your terms? Who's your friend?"

The girl
glanced wide-eyed back and forth at them as if watching a tennis match. She held her hand out for Rhaya to shake. "I'm Isauria, and I promise I am
just
his friend. Nothing more, I swear."

"Oh,
" Rhaya blushed, realizing she was acting like a jealous girlfriend. "So are we." She reached out and shook the girl's hand. "I'm Rhaya. I'm not a crazed ex-girlfriend or something. Tate is...odd," she tried to explain as she spared an annoyed glare at the man in question. "I've been hoping to talk to him again soon, but he's a hard guy to track down."

"Ha! She thinks you're weird too
," Isauria joked with Tate, then returned to Rhaya. "I've been telling him that for years, but he never listens to me. How did you guys meet?"

"We have a physics class together. Or we did, anyway." Rhaya
blinked sweetly at him as she continued. "I guess he didn't enjoy the class since he hasn't been back. Tate here is a fan of mysteries, but I'm more of a science fiction kinda girl, myself."

"Me too! I'm such a geek," Isauria gushed. "Every
thing from Farscape to Stargate."

The new girl had Rhaya's attention now. "I love Stargate! I wanted to marry Daniel Jackson growing up. I was so heartbroken when I found out he
wasn’t a real person," Rhaya said with a reminiscent frown. She cleared her throat, redirecting herself back on point. "Since we have so much in common, maybe we can all hang out. I'm free." She blinked innocently at Tate, able to see how uncomfortable he was with the idea by his tense posture regardless of the bright smile plastered on his face. "How about you guys? Coffee? My treat?"

"Well," Tate drew out the word, a slight tone of warning, "I wanted to get some one on one time with Izzy, so maybe you and I could catch up later?"

Rhaya gave him a skeptic look, knowing he had no intention to meet up with her again and also realizing that, for some reason, her bonding with Isauria bothered him. The longer they talked, the more antsy became.

"Right." Rhaya shifted her attention to the still confused Isauria. “Izzy, right? Maybe we'll run into each other around sometime. I work in the used book store near here if you ever want to come geek it up over some coffee."

Isauria brightened at the invitation. "I’d love to. I love bookstores," she added with a little too much enthusiasm. She cleared her throat in an effort to seem calmer. "So, um, are you a big reader, or is it just somewhere to work?"

"Huge reader," Rhaya answered, enjoying how eager her new friend seemed to be. "I'm always looking for something new to read. My Dad says I pretty much live in my own fantasy world."

"Mine too," Isauria said enthusiastically. "I write some too. Honestly, I do more writing than reading most of the time."

“Really?” Rhaya said with genuine interest. “What’s your story about?”

“It’s about this girl Terrena who’s living her life on the run in this magical world,” Isauria started to explain, trailing off with a shake of her head. “It would probably take hours to explain.”

Rhaya noticed how Tate winced at the mention of Isauria's writing and
she immediately latched onto the subject. "Bring your book by the store sometime. I'd love to read what you’ve got. I mean, if you don't mind."

Isauria's eyes nearly popped out of her hea
d at this. "That would be great," she said as she linked her hands together and began to fidget with her fingers. "I can e-mail you, I mean, if you actually want to read it and aren't just being polite," she said, her insecurities shining through without the aid of Rhaya’s gift.

"I'd like that." Rhaya did her best to
sound certain and enthused to reassure her new friend. She found the tentative and awkward way Isauria acted to be endearing. "Let me get yours and I'll shoot you a quick e-mail. Oh, and go ahead and put your number in my contacts too," Rhaya said as she handed Isauria her cell phone. She turned back to Tate coldly, unhappy she hadn't gotten any answers from him. "I'm guessing I'll see you when I see you."

Tate beamed
. "Pretty much. Take care, Rhaya. Don't do anything stupid."

Rhaya gave a haughty laugh at this as she walked away. If by 'something stupid' he meant demanding answers from Raemann, she would not make any promises.

Later that evening, Rhaya relaxed on the couch while Raemann made dinner and idle conversation. Knowing his job usually served to feed her addiction to books, he started to tell her
of a new series about vampires he thought she might be interested in.

"People keep saying the series is an amazing love story," he said in conclusion, though he seemed perplexed at the idea.

"I don't know, Raemann." She paused, waiting to see if her father had any sort of reaction to the fact she had called him by name, but he didn’t so much as flinch. She repressed the groan itching to escape her throat and continued their conversation. "Vampires aren't my thing. And I've heard people talking about that series on campus. Sounds a little too teen angsty for my taste."

He blew out a relieved breath before giving her a dimpled smile. "Good, I hoped you wouldn't be joining in on the craze surrounding those books. I still don't understand how people can think a love story centered around teenagers can be so enthralling. The idea of anyone figuring out who they want to spend eternity with at sixteen is preposterous if you ask me."

She tugged at the stray threads from the throw pillow on her lap, annoyed he hadn't reacted at all to her calling him anything other than Dad. "Romeo and Juliet fell in love and they were younger than sixteen," she called over her shoulder, knowing her comment would set her father off on one of his favorite tangents.

His face fell as he
looked up from the skillet. "People who think
Romeo and Juliet
was a great love story clearly didn't understand the book. It was a great tragedy. There's a big difference."

"Well, anyway, I think vampires are overrated." She tossed the pillow back on the couch with a sigh as they continued to make pointless conversation. "But I will be reading a brand new story soon, one no one has read yet."

"Oh yeah?" he asked as he flipped the chicken over in the skillet and threw in some more teriyaki sauce. "Who's the author?"

"She's this girl I met today," she explained as she flipped around onto her knees to face him, dangling her arms over the back of the red couch. "We got along really well from the start, and she said she's working on writing a story and wants me to read it."

"You made a friend?" he asked with mock surprise as he clutched his spatula wielding hand over his heart. "You do me proud."

She
laughed at his teasing in spite of herself, but the humor quickly faded as she recognized an opportunity to ask the questions that had been plaguing her all weekend. "I think you'd like her. Turns out we have a mutual friend in common. This guy, Tate. Do you know him?"

Raemann
shrugged innocently. "Should I?"

"Come on, Dad. You do."

"Oh, we're back to 'Dad' now, are we?" He narrowed his eyes back at her to let her know he had noticed the change earlier when she had called him by his first name.

She hated when he did this. He had learned long ago to answer her questions with his own when he didn’t want to talk about something. "Sorry, I slipped earlier."

"And now
you
," he pointed the spatula at her, "are lying, my dear. That was no slip. You were testing me and hoping
I
would slip."

"Which is why you didn't react," she said, her voice rising and falling with each word as if she were bored with this part of their usual routine. "Yes, I’ve known you aren't my birth father for a while now. Not just because of my third eye or whatever."

Her response seemed to throw him a bit. "What clued you in?"

"Please!" She stood up and walked around the couch to face him. "I'm pale as a ghost, and you look like you surf all day. My hair is straight and black, your golden blond hair would make Shirley Temple herself jealous. Do I need to go on?"

He averted his attention back to the steaming food on the stove. "Maybe I adopted you. And we do both have blue eyes."

"D
ifferent shades," she retorted. "We both know there's more to it than that. The question is why you won't talk to me."

Raemann turned his attention to the salad, throwing in some sunflower seeds and tossing the leaves around. "There's a lot I need to explain to you, but you need to trust me when I say you aren't ready yet."

She threw her hands up as she let out a frustrated cry. "How do you know? I'm nineteen, Dad—"

"You don't have to call me that anymore, Rhaya," he said quietly, his focus still on the salad. "There's no need to pretend."

"I'm not," she said meekly, hating the obvious sadness written across his features. "You're still my Dad, the only one I’ve ever had. And I still love you. You'll always be my Dad, biological or...." Her words trailed off as his heavy eyes met hers. "Oh. My biological father is still alive," she said factually. "And my mother?"

Raemann pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Rhaya, do not ask me questions. I can give you no answers right now. Let this go, please. For now."

"I can't. This has been going on for days with more and more questions popping up. This is clearly about more than me being adopted, and now I'm being followed, and Tate is talking about gifts—"

He pressed his palms onto the countertop. "You're being followed? By who? Tate?"

"Ha!" She shook her finger at him. "I
knew
you knew him. What is his deal, anyway? Oh my gosh! Are we a group of genetically engineered superheroes you busted out of a government facility? Because Isauria is friends with Tate, and he acted all weird when we met, so she has to be involved somehow too."

His jaw dropped. "You met Isauria?" He let out an exasperated cry. "Can you manage to stay out of trouble for one
instant, Rhaya? None of the other Cynewards share the same task as I do and all because of your constant questions and impatience."

“Wait, none of the other what?” She let out a cry of frustration as he shook his head, knowing she wasn’t going to get any answers.

He rounded the counter and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I am begging you, please do not keep asking questions. The more you find out right now, the more attention you risk bringing to us. And believe me when I say that would be a very bad thing."

She searched his eyes, sensing the earnestness in his plea and the fear he felt for her. "Fine. I won't ask Tate or Isauria anything. But I am not letting you off the hook. I want to know what's going on. What are you so afraid of? Or is it who?"

He held up a hand. "No. Now
I
get to ask the questions. Who was following you?"

She balked with embarrassment. "I might have exaggerated a bit with that. He was standing outside my class watching me. And he didn't make any secret of watching me either."

"What did you feel when you saw him?"

She stared at him for a moment, wondering how he knew exactly what to ask her. "This might sound weird, but I think I sensed him before I saw him. I might have been zoning out in class a bit,” she said abashedly, “but his presence snapped me out of it. He was the first thing I noticed, and he didn't look away. He just...
stared
. And smiled, but like this creepy-type smile."