Mirage (6 page)

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Cece said, shaking her head.

“Can you guys just … lighten up?” Marissa said at last. “God, you’re all killing me here.”

Kate nodded. “Okay, okay. New topic. Um … hot new guy. Violet, you had fencing practice with him. Dish.”

I relaxed slightly, leaning back into the booth’s tufted vinyl. “Tyler Bennett, from Texas. Overconfident and
very
competitive. Oh, and he said he was telekinetic. Micro, actually.”

“Interesting,” Kate drawled. “Not a lot of micros around. Anything else?”

“Not much else to tell. He was kind of funny, I guess.” I shrugged, trying to remember what we’d talked about, exactly, but came up blank.

“Funny ha-ha, or funny weird?” Cece pressed.

“Funny like he seemed to have an okay sense of humor,” I clarified. “I don’t know. Mostly we were practicing. It’s not like we had that much time to talk. He’s definitely going to be top seed on the boys’ team. I kinda felt bad for him—the other guys weren’t too happy with the way Coach was going on and on about him.”

“Hey, speak of the devil,” Cece murmured, elbowing me in my side.

I glanced up and saw Tyler step inside, Max Armstrong trailing behind him. His gaze found mine, and he nodded and headed our way.

“Hey, Tyler,” I called out with a wave. Might as well get this over with.

He stopped, even with our table now. “Well, if it isn’t the competition.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m on the girls’ team. So it’s not like we’ll ever be competing against each other.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but you’re still the best here at Winterhaven. At least, you
were
the best,” he challenged with an easy laugh.

I groaned. “Yeah, whatever. Um, these are my friends Cece, Marissa, Kate, and Sophie.” I gestured toward each in turn. “Guys, this is Tyler.”

“Hi,” Tyler said with a nod, repeating each name back with surprising accuracy. “Do y’all know Max? Lucky dude is my roommate.”

Everyone knew Max—the spiky-haired guy wearing eyeliner who liked to sit in the quad strumming his guitar.

Kate nodded. “Yeah, we know Max. Don’t we, Marissa?” She shot a knowing look in Marissa’s direction. Clearly, Kate knew something that I didn’t.

“Yeah, um … hi, Max,” Marissa murmured, her cheeks scarlet. I was pretty sure I’d never seen her so embarrassed before.

“A new roommate senior year?” Cece asked Max. “What’d you do—scare away the old one?”

Max shrugged, looking vaguely amused. “I had a single last year, but it was way too quiet. Thought I could use some company.”

Kate looked at Marissa, and then back at Max. “You were a singleton last year like Marissa? Wow, who knew the two of you had so much in common?”

Marissa shot her a deadly glare.

After an uncomfortable pause, Tyler shrugged. “Well, good to meet y’all. Violet, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“Sure will,” I chirped, watching as he and Max turned and walked away from our table.

“Thanks a lot, Kate,” Marissa muttered once they were out of earshot. “Way to be Captain Obvious.”

Kate’s blue eyes danced with mischief. “Oh, c’mon! Did you see the way he blushed? He’s totally into you. You just gotta let him know you’re interested.”

Marissa folded her arms across her chest. “
Some
of us appreciate the fine art of subtlety.”

“Obviously some of us appreciate guyliner, too,” Cece murmured under her breath. “Who knew?”

“Subtlety isn’t going to get you a date for the Halloween dance,” Kate said with a smirk.

Marissa rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You love me—admit it! I just helped you out.” Kate glanced back over her shoulder toward where Tyler and Max stood by the door, talking to a group of guys I didn’t recognize. “Trust me, he’ll ask you out before the week’s over.”

“You’re lucky I
do
love you,” Marissa conceded. “Anyway, he’s an empath like me. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what I’m feeling whenever he’s around.”

Sophie’s brows shot up at once. “What exactly
are
you feeling when he’s around, Marissa?”

“Just shut up,” she muttered in reply. “All of you.”

“Ooh, is there a Max effect going on?” Kate teased, referring to what we liked to call the “Aidan effect”—that woozy, tongue-tied feeling we got around Aidan. Which, it turns out, was just an effect of his vampirism.

Marissa shook her head. “It’s nothing like that, thank God.”

“Okay, not to change the subject or anything,” Cece said, her dark eyes glowing, “but am I the only one here who thinks Tyler is seriously smoking?”

“Didn’t you and Todd break up, like, just last night?” Marissa asked with a frown.

“So I’m a wee bit fickle,” Cece answered with a shrug. “But c’mon, can you blame me?”

“He
is
pretty cute,” I conceded.

“Agreed,” Sophie said with a nod.

Just then, the clear plastic container holding the packets of sugar slid down the table, coming to rest in front of Kate.

“Oopsie,” she said with a grin.

“You are
such
a show-off.” Marissa tapped Kate’s empty mug. “You don’t even need the sugar.”

Kate let out a long sigh. “I know. It’s just so nice to be able to do stuff like that in public again.”

“Technically, that was probably against the COPA,” Cece warned with a grin. “As a candidate for student body president, I feel compelled to mention that.”

Cece was probably right. I was pretty sure that “frivolous use” constituted a violation, albeit a minor one. Not in the same league as “using to harm a fellow student or faculty member,” or “using for academic advantage,” of course. Those infractions carried some pretty stiff penalties.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Kate said with a shrug. “Still, it felt good.”

Sophie looked pensive. “Have you ever thought about telling your parents? I mean, is it really that weird?”

“Are you kidding me? After what happened to Allison?” Kate replied. Allison had been Cece’s first roommate at Winterhaven, and she’d been pulled from school and briefly institutionalized when she’d tried to tell her parents about her clairvoyance. “Anyway,
your
gift could probably be explained away as intuition or something like that. But mine? My parents would freak if they saw what I can do. I mean, the sugar thing? That’s nothing. But remember how I took down those beams in the chapel last year?”

“I guess you’re right,” Sophie said, then cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Hey, we should probably think about heading back. It’s getting late.”

The café had mostly emptied. Only one other table of students remained, and they were standing now, gathering their things.

Cece glanced down at her watch. “Yup, it’s about that time.”

As I reached for my bag, I felt the familiar tickle in my brain.

Hey, you still out with your friends?

I tried to look nonchalant, hiking up my bag on my shoulder as I answered him in my head.
Yeah, we’re on our way back to the dorm now.

Want me to come walk with you?

A battle raged in my mind. I
did
want to see him—I really did. And yet … I still couldn’t banish that image of him going after Whitney from my mind. Tomorrow morning was my first coaching session with Dr. Byrne, and hopefully he could help me learn to summon a vision. If it
had
been a vision and not a dream—a big if—then I’d work at replaying it. And if I couldn’t, then maybe that would confirm that it
was
a dream after all. I hoped to have some answers by this time tomorrow, and then maybe—

Vi? You still there?

I needed to give him an answer, and fast.
I’m pretty tired. Do you mind if I just go to bed?

Of course not,
he said, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

Definitely. After my coaching session,
I offered, hoping that would give me enough time to figure things out.

It’s a date, then. Good night, love.

“Hey, you coming?” Cece reached for my hand. “You were off in space for a minute there. Oh, wait … you were talking to Aidan, weren’t you?”

I winced, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

“You should see your face! That must have been some reunion today.”

She had
no
idea.

5 ~ Tick, Tock

O
kay, close your eyes and take a deep breath—in through your nose, out through your mouth,” Dr. Byrne said. “And then concentrate on one specific thing. A sound, for instance, or a sensation. Do you hear the clock on my desk?”

I closed my eyes and nodded. The ticking was loud, like Gran’s old mantel clock. I took a deep breath, just like he said—in through my nose, out through my mouth.

“Now picture one specific image from the vision you want to replay.” His voice was almost hypnotic. “It can be anything that stood out vividly.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have it?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my mind’s eye conjuring up the image of Whitney stabbing at the elevator button. I have no idea why that particular image popped into my head, but it was definitely vivid. She was wearing jeans and a pink sweater; I could see her blond hair slipping from its ponytail, a sheen of sweat on the back of her neck. Her nails were painted a deep metallic blue, contrasting sharply with her ivory skin, and she was pressing the
L
button over and over again.

“Empty your mind of everything, Violet. Everything but that image and the sound of the clock. Make the room around you disappear. Make my voice disappear.”

But it didn’t. For several minutes we sat there in total silence, but nothing happened. None of the weird sensations came that heralded an oncoming vision.

I felt a breeze blow against my calves, and I shifted in my seat.

“You’re not focused,” Dr. Byrne scolded.

“I’m trying,” I countered. Taking another deep breath—in and out—I chose another image from the vision, this one of Aidan. My breath hitched in my chest as the image flooded my consciousness: his eyes rimmed in red and full of thirst as he reached for Whitney.

I kept it there, holding on to it as best I could as I listened for the clock’s rhythmic
tick, tock, tick, tock
.

I sharpened my focus, trying not to physically flinch at what I saw in my mind.

Aidan, looking dangerous. Going after my childhood friend …

A whimper escaped my lips, and I opened my eyes, forcing away the image.

“Nothing?” Dr. Byrne asked, and I shook my head.

“That’s all it takes for you?” I asked, my voice a little shaky as I regarded him sitting across the desk from me. Weirdly enough, we’d shown up at the coaching session dressed alike—khaki shorts, Converse sneakers, and a plaid shirt.

He had that “just rolled out of bed” look, like he’d forgotten to shave or brush his hair. Even so, he looked like he belonged on the cover of one of those outdoorsy catalogs, the ones that sold everything from cargo pants to canoes.

He studied me back, his dark gaze steady. “Yeah, that’s all it takes,” he said at last. “But I really had to work on my focus for a while before I got the hang of it, so don’t give up just yet. The clock helps—that’s why I keep this one in my office.”

I rose and took a couple of steps toward his desk, reaching out to run one finger along the clock’s smooth, curved frame. “It’s nice,” I said.

“Thanks. It was my grandma’s, actually. She collected clocks.” He was still studying me strangely, his brows slightly drawn. “So, you and Aidan Gray …” He trailed off expectantly.

I swallowed hard, not quite sure where this was going. Or how much he knew. “What about us?”

“I was just wondering if you’re a hundred percent comfortable with the risks.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied. My heart was pounding in my chest, thumping against my rib cage.

His expression relaxed a bit. “I’m pretty sure you do.”

He had me there. I decided to try a different tactic. “He says you’ve been working with him in the lab. Are
you
a hundred percent comfortable with the risks?”

He shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

“It is,” I argued, sliding back into the chair behind me.

“It’s not, and you know it. Look, I’m fully supportive of Aidan’s work. I want to help him. This is … well, probably the most exciting work I’ve done in a long time. But I think someone here needs to be looking out for you.”

He obviously had no idea about the
Sâbbat
thing—and I wanted to keep it that way. “Mrs. Girard is looking out for me,” I offered. He must know
that
much.

He stood and came around the desk, leaning against it, just inches away now. I could smell him—soap and aftershave. He smelled … nice. Clean, kind of like the ocean.

“Obviously I’m screwing this up,” he said, shaking his head. “So let me start over. I’m trying to say that I’ve got your back. That if you ever need to talk to someone—to an adult—about the … situation … I’m here. That’s all.”

“Just how much do you know about the … situation?” I asked, unable to stanch my curiosity.

“Not much, beyond the scientific details I’ve managed to put together. I get the feeling that he’s not really at liberty to share.”

“Not without … consequences.” Oh my God, we were talking in code, like spies or something.

“Hmm. Interesting.” He folded his arms across his chest, causing the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt to ride up, exposing the bottom of edge of a tattoo—something that looked vaguely like a dagger. Whoa, Dr. Hottie had a tattoo. Now
that
was interesting.

“Will you promise me one thing, Violet?” he continued. “Just this one thing, and then we can stop talking about it. For now, at least.”

“Depends on what you want me to promise,” I said with a shrug. Because some things weren’t negotiable, especially where Aidan was concerned.