Secrets of the Guardian (Waldgrave Book 3) (36 page)

He started into the room, and she tried to stay close behind him. Asher, Isaac, and Kaylee were so absorbed in conversation that Ember was sure they had already forgotten her. The crowds pushed in, and she felt Acton put an arm around her to keep her on track as they made their way through the clouds of body odor, thumping music, and kaleidoscope lights. She tensed up at his touch as he pushed her towards the bar; he smelled like suede, burning wood, and mint.

As the space became tighter, he pushed her in front of him so that they were single file. He moved his hand from her shoulder to rest on her back, and Ember’s heart started to race. She had never had a boyfriend, and Acton was much too close. The feel of his hand against the soft curve between her ribs and hips was new and strange.

“Sorry—so sorry.” He muttered close to her ear again, letting go as soon as there was room. He didn’t sound sorry.

He settled her into a corner of the bar and let her have the red pleather stool closest to the wall. Acton gave her another genuine smile, and her anxiety started to fade away. She took a deep breath and looked around, much more confident against the wall than in the middle of the room.
Adventure
, she said to herself,
this is an adventure
.

Acton leaned out across the bar, gesturing down the way. Ember followed his gaze, and it felt like the room, and everything around her, slowed down.

The woman tending the bar was the most provocative person that Ember had ever seen up close. She had bright red lips the same color as the corset that bared her shoulders. A black eyelet lace skirt fringed her delicate ankles, and black ribbons from the ballet slippers she wore trellised up her legs.

As she walked towards them, Ember felt herself smile, but she didn’t know why.  The woman was stunning, and scandalous, and Ember already knew she was going to trip over her words. If she could get this woman to take her under her wing, she might have a chance at being liked on the island.  Women like this one couldn’t be ignored for all the right reasons.

The shiny bun of coiled braids on top of her head quivered like medusa’s snakes as she smiled; she leaned over the bar to hug Ember. Balancing on her lower abdomen, the beautiful woman’s feet left the peanut shell-littered floorboards as they embraced. “And you must be Ember…we wondered if we’d ever see you again!”

She smelled like wine, baby powder, and cinnamon. Ember’s head was swimming, and it was only then that she remembered Acton had brought her here at this woman’s request.

“You’re…the mother?” Ember said, dumbfounded. She blushed. “You don’t look…old enough.”

The woman only smiled and winked, lowering her voice to a cheery growl. “Plastic surgery is an amazing thing.”

Acton cleared his throat. “Zinny, Ember. Ember, my mother, Zinnia Knox.  The mother of the Knox reputation.”

“Oh, now, you hush!” Zinny touched her cheek, feigning embarrassment, but winking at Ember at the last second.

Ember looked back at Acton, astonished and feeling like the heat in the room had just gone up by several degrees. Acton only shrugged and smirked, and Ember looked back at the reprehensibly young and sexy Zinnia, called Zinny and not ‘mom’ by her son. A bottle had appeared in one of Zinny’s hands, and two glasses in the other.

“Schnapps, Acton?” She frowned when she saw the expression on Ember’s face. “Or perhaps something less alcoholic…?”

She disappeared to the other end of the bar, and Ember looked over at Acton to see him smiling as he shook his head. “What?”

He shook his head. “You look like a doe in the headlights.”

“Headlights. Ha.” She responded, taking one last look at Zinny in her corset, and he laughed again.

“How old are you?” She blurted. Ember flinched as she realized that the sudden voicing of her uncensored thoughts was happening a lot that day. She made a concerted effort to look at Acton as though it were a perfectly normal continuance of conversation, trying not to let her smile appear too sheepish. “I mean, because, your mom—Zinnia—Zinny, I mean, she just looks…”

“I get that a lot.” Acton stood and reached around to the other side of the bar, fishing beneath the counter until he brought up a bag of salted peanuts, and set them in front of Ember.

Zinny set a tray of drinks down in front of them, the glasses clanking against the metal tray as she set them down—two waters and two glasses of schnapps. Acton picked up a schnapps as Zinny winked and slinked back away down the bar, her bare shoulder blades dancing.

“Old enough to drink?” Ember asked, somewhat deflated.

“I think so.” Acton smiled as he downed the drink. “That’s all that counts.”

Ember was horrified. Seeing her face, Acton frowned and quickly set the glass down as he cleared his throat again. His tone was understanding. “So…your mom?”

She had almost forgotten. As her evening deflated a little further, she reached out and grabbed a glass of water to occupy her mouth for a few extra moments. Acton waited patiently, his eyes seeming to beat with anticipation as he cornered her into her seat with his knees, blocking the bulk of the rest of the bar from her view, and she was once again grateful. Trying to ignore the room full of people, she focused on Acton’s face.

“Yeah…” She started. “My mom.”

“We can talk about something else if you like.” He said with a shrug.

“Yeah…” She repeated, desperately searching for something else to discuss, and realizing that her entire life could be boiled down to her academic record, a handful of volunteer events, and her broken family. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to talk about why she had been sent away, which was undoubtedly the most interesting thing about her. She didn’t even understand why her mother wanted her to leave, beyond the fact that she wasn’t allowed to consider this island her home. Sitting in The Garden with Acton, her academic devotion suddenly felt cheap and pretentious.
The ivory tower
—that was what he had called it.

Ember sighed; Acton was still patiently waiting for her to say something. He had taken her out on a pity date because he knew her mother…and how she was. That thought alone made Ember want to crawl under a rock and die. He was trying to do her a favor by getting her out of the house, taking her to the hot spot in town, introducing her to his mother, and offering up alcohol. He had mistakenly assumed that she would jump at the opportunity. He had assumed that she was someone
interesting.

Across the room, Asher, Kaylee, and Isaac were all talking and laughing like the life-long friends Ember was sure they were. They were completely at ease in this malted environment, and it only made Ember feel more awkward.

Asher looked over, his arm still casually draped around Kaylee’s shoulders like he was an accessory to her outfit, and nodded at her. It was in that brief acknowledgement that Ember suddenly realized that even though she had never been an interesting person, that the moment had arrived where she had the power to change the fact.

Her entire life, she had tried to fit in, because she had thought being normal would make her family take her back. But here, in the only bar on Tulukaruk, she was the village oddity, and it felt
good
to be noticed. She was never going to win over her mother, but she had a chance with everyone else.  And her entire life, she had been missing out on that opportunity.

Ember knew that if she got drunk that night, it would mean a lecture the next morning. Or would it?

Staring into Acton’s hazel eyes, the red-brown color pulsing behind them as the bar lights reflected off them, she realized that a lecture wasn’t such a bad thing. If her mother was going to make her leave, Ember intended to make an unforgettable reputation for people to remember her by. The Knox boys’ reputation.

As Acton watched, his eyes sparkling with amusement, Ember raised up the schnapps and tried to swallow it in one gulp the way he had. She choked, and most of it went dribbling down her chin and front.

As she sputtered and took another gulp of water to kill the burn in her throat, she wondered what she had been thinking seconds earlier while attempting the stunt. She had never drunk alcohol before.

Acton was in a fit of laughter as he grabbed a wad of paper napkins from behind the counter and started wiping the booze from Ember’s face and shirt. His laughter had once again relieved her embarrassment, and she started to laugh with him. As they both started to settle down, Ember was charmed by the way that he seemed so taken with her.  She was beginning to like the feeling of excited disquiet that came every time he reached out to touch her.

“What was that?” He asked with one final laugh.

Ember raised her eyebrows. “When we walk out of here, they’re going to be looking at
me
.”

Acton gestured for Zinny as Ember tried to sop up the rest of the mess she had made.

“Maybe another water for—“

“Schnapps.” Ember interceded flatly.

Zinny raised an eyebrow at him, but Acton only smiled and shrugged. “Her choice. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

Zinny left the bottle, and Acton refilled her glass.

She continued to drink another few ounces of schnapps, and then somehow they ended up at Isaac and Asher’s table. Kaylee was playing with Ember’s hair while the boys traded stories on all the stupid and reckless things they had done for entertainment on the island, and Ember couldn’t stop laughing. She was so giddy that she was hardly thinking. She convinced Zinny to let her do a few shots before the bar mistress convinced her to stop, saying she “didn’t want to bring down Gina’s wrath.”

Ember was so happy that she hardly noticed it was after midnight, and Asher made a joke about needing to get her home before she turned into a pumpkin. Ember laughed so hard that she vomited, though later she couldn’t recall where. It was probably everywhere. Zinny very graciously never brought it up after that night.

She didn’t remember leaving the bar that night. Later, she thought that Acton might have loaned her his jacket to keep warm. There might have been a motorcycle ride involved, though she didn’t know how Acton managed to keep her balanced the whole ride. All she remembered was the bitter wind scratching past her face as she tried to bury herself in the supple, warm, musky suede of Acton’s jacket.

She didn’t remember anything clearly until lunch the next day. Thalia glared at her fiercely across the table, cutting through the hazy and painful stupor, clearly angered that Ember had defaced her public image, and her mother begged—literally begged——her not to go out again. Then there was screaming, and threats. Then came the explanations to Nan, the lectures on how Ember “hadn’t been raised to act like this,” and Ember’s angry rant that she hadn’t been raised to be anything—not by her mother, anyways.

As Ember had climbed the stairs to go back to bed, her clammy hands sticking to the bannister and her head simultaneously throbbing with its own weight and threatening to float away, she didn’t have the energy to wonder if it had been a mistake. As she opened her door, swaying dangerously along, she didn’t think about the science behind her hangover. As she collapsed onto her bed, she didn’t wonder at the fact that she had managed to go from being a little girl to a teenager in a single night.

The only thought in her head was Acton Knox. Everyone had been watching as she left the bar the night before, but he was the only one that counted. She wondered what he was doing now, and reached for her cell phone…then remembered that she didn’t have any friends.

Except that now, she did.

You have a cell? Let me see…

Nearly breathless, Ember remembered the sparkling excitement in Asher’s eyes as he had taken the phone from her hand to program in their numbers. The glow on the screen had been magical in the dark, misty night; the moon had been out and full, and with Acton’s arm tight around her shoulders…

The moon? In a bar?

Ember closed her eyes, squeezing them shut until stars popped in front of her eyes, trying to press out the story of the evening prior. There was the bar, and the drinks, and then…Kaylee had braided her hair. Yes, because she hadn’t used any hair ties, and it had been a mess in the morning; knots all over.

But at least the braids had kept it out of her hair when she had thrown up.

“Better get her home before she turns into a pumpkin.”

Ember had laughed when he said it; Asher always said the funny things. Isaac was a poet. Acton didn’t laugh; it took her hours to realize that when he smiled, it never touched it eyes. His lips had smiled, but his eyes hadn’t.

“I’ve got time, and so does she. I want to take her for a tour.”

The tour of the island—that’s right, they had left the bar. People had clapped for her, and whistled, and she had made a grand bow at the door as they exited.

Ember cringed, pressing her face into the pillow. She had bowed.

After the bar, everything was bathed in icy moonlight and freezing mist. Laughter boomed through the forest. There was a fire, something old and rusted, and the feel of Acton’s suede jacket against her cheek.

The feel of the grass in her hair.

Ember raised her hands to her hair; her eyes shot open. They had been lying down in the grass.

She rolled over onto her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow. It was there, somewhere in her mind, buried deep.