Landlocked (Atlas Link Series Book 2) (40 page)

Understanding came with a wave of guilt that threatened to knock me over. He was using this as a distraction. He
needed
the distraction. And comfort. To be held. To be kept together after his good friend died almost the same way his brother had.

Tears fell down his face, sliding down to where our lips met. I cupped his face and pulled away, wiping the tears with my thumbs. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”

He pulled me back to him for an embrace that lasted forever.

I sat at the edge of the lake where I rock climbed for the first time, where I almost failed the last part of initiation into TruGates. The sun rose over the water, painting colors on the surface. Pale shades of blues and oranges and purples. It’d been a while since I watched a sunrise with this great a view. I savored each inch of the sun as it lit the horizon, promising a new day that would hopefully be better than the last.

It had to be. In thirteen hours, I would finally be placing my call for help.

My pen fell to the sandy shore during my viewing of the sunrise. I picked it up and positioned the utensil in my hand to write. My songbook balanced on my knees in front of me, a playlist for tonight’s show scribbled in large, uncaring handwriting. We’d close with the new stuff and open with our apparent latest nation-wide hit, but the middle songs gave me pause. I’d called Sarah late last night after Josh went to sleep and told her I’d be rearranging our set list last minute. When she asked why, I told her I needed to use my backup plan. She understood, though was freaked out because she knew it meant something awful had happened, and that I couldn’t tell her, but she left me to it. She’d also made me promise to never use the band and our popularity status like this, for work, ever again.

Backup plan
.

Two years ago, right after Trevor and I’d started working for TAO, I’d written a song Phoenix and Lobster would never play live until we absolutely had to. Until
I
had no other way to get a message to Trevor.

Mine and Trevor’s downfall during the hijacking of SeaSat5, aside from being horrifically unprepared for such an event, was miscommunication. We could have resolved the conflict if we were able to work together, but Thompson had Trevor convinced I was the bad guy, and I’d been convinced I didn’t trust anyone on board anymore. In order to ensure that never happened again, we formed a million in one ways to get in touch. Secret code words, Internet sites, hidden messages attached to Phoenix and Lobster’s song lyrics—you name it, we made it. Created the system, but never used it.

Then I wrote this one song, Contents to Burn. I gave him the lyrics and told him if this song was ever played or if the lyrics appeared anywhere after we’d been separated, I was in trouble. And in trouble, I was.

General Allen had called me into his office before Truman’s funeral. He went on and on about how I shouldn’t have spoken with Trevor at Juxe—which meant he’d somehow known I had—and how I should have learned my lesson by now. And that, in case I hadn’t, he’d arranged for a faulty job. Then he’d given me a massive dose of the serum. My powers hadn’t worked since.

I wasn’t sure how much I believed his story, but I didn’t have a choice since no evidence to the contrary existed. So here I was, unable to determine if I was being watched. Unable to determine if I could get the hell out, or if my powers would come back so I could teleport to Trevor and tell him everything. Every part of me hated that I’d kept this from him for so long, especially since the accusations against him were clearly his business, too.

I looked down to the page in front of me and filled in Contents to Burn in the third song slot.

It’ll be played third. The band will help me find you in the crowd during the first two songs. They will point you out to me and I will make eye contact with you. Use the songs around it to fill in the blanks as to what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Understand?

God, what was I doing?

Five hours later found me in a car with Logan, heading for the Philly Juxe venue. I kept quiet. I had nothing to say. But when we turned the corner into the parking lot of a once football stadium, he asked the one question I knew he’d been waiting to voice. “What happened with you and Trevor?”

I redirected my eyes to the stadium in the distance. “We’d been growing apart for a while. I have a new boyfriend you can rail on.”

“Not that I’m complaining because I’ve never liked Trevor,” he said, shooting me that
I have only the best intentions
look, “but you really expect me to break in another guy so soon?”

“Hah-hah,” I said. “Sorry to burst your excitement bubble, but Josh doesn’t need breaking in. He’s a great guy.”

“That’s what you said about Trevor, and I think he went and slept with the girl who broke you and your
previous
ex up.”

“I get your goddamn point, Logan,” I snapped, my eyes darting to his.

He flinched. “Chels, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t know what’s been going on lately, okay? Things are not okay. But Josh is the best thing to ever happen to me. If I introduce you two, he’s not going to be up for your big brother games right now, though. We just lost a friend. So play nice.”

He pulled his car into a parking spot and put it in park. “Shit, Chels. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, nodding. “I have to go see Sarah now, and get the set list changes to her and the band so we can practice.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to get out of the car. Logan beat me to the rear passenger door and pulled me into a gigantic bear hug.

“I’m sorry you lost someone again, Chelsea.”

A deep, live-giving breath worked its way into me. I returned the embrace.

The energy backstage before our set was different from last week. Every word someone said hung heavy, like they thought it’d be the last thing they ever said to me. When I gave them Contents to Burn and swore them to secrecy, even from Logan, they thought I’d done some deep shit. Like I’d been placed into witness protection or something.

Tonight was no different, and I supposed their assumptions were correct.

Everything had been perfectly planned, from the color of my shirt, to the color of Kris’ guitar. Even Sarah’s navy blue converse had meaning Trevor was supposed to pick up on, if he came at all. I hoped he would, so he’d get my message, but I knew the chances of that were slim to none after what happened a week ago. But maybe, just maybe, he’d be stubborn as hell one last time.

As we took the stage playing our hottest song to date, the crowd-scanning portion of my instructions began. I looked straight down the middle even though I knew Trevor wouldn’t be so stupid as to stand directly in the middle of a raging crowd.

I found nothing. If Trevor wasn’t here, then I couldn’t get my call for help out in the most inconspicuous way I could think of and I’d be screwed. I had no doubt General Allen had someone tapping my calls and watching me carefully. If he had access to Lemurians, it was possible.

Deep into song number two on the list, two things happened simultaneously. My eyes made contact with someone, but it wasn’t Trevor. General Allen stared daggers at me from the back of the crowd, and I had a hard time grappling with the fact he was here. I stuttered over my own written words. Then, as a rush of warmth flooded me, my fingers stumbled over some strings. Suddenly the guitar seemed lighter.

My powers were back.

Sarah walked up to me as she played. We stood facing each other, as planned, and she lifted the nose of her guitar as she swung it back and forth. Then she stopped, pointing it to stage left.

I closed in on my mic to sing the breakdown of our second song. My eyes desperately searched the crowd for the face Sarah saw. There, eight haphazard rows in, was Trevor. He stood relaxed, not yet aware of what was going on. He wouldn’t know until I introduced the song in about forty seconds.

I ended the song with my hands shaking. I had to keep my poise as I sang this next song, which also relied solely on me for the main guitar. It wouldn’t have been fair to force Kris to learn and continually practice a song he may never have to play. Knowing General Allen stood at the back of the crowd only added more pressure. If he saw Trevor there, if he saw me falter with my own words…

“This next song is wicked old. So old that no one outside our hometown probably knows it.” I laughed, but it came out weird. Fake. “It’s called Contents to Burn. Sing it if you know it.”

But of course no one would.

The very second I stopped talking, Trevor’s eyes bugged wide. I backed away from the mic stand and played the song, ceasing all further eye contact.

The deed was done. The message sent.

I was in trouble. Sarah’s blue converse meant
Atlantean
. Kris’s red guitar meant
Lemurian
. My green tank top said
Go
. The first and second song we played meant
Secrets compromised
.

The rest was up to Trevor.