Silverlighters (15 page)

“Right now – they’re looking for something. Something your mother left you.”

My hand sprang to my neck instinctively. My fingers curled around the necklace my mother gave me the day she died. “Is that why you’re here?”

He didn’t answer. But there was a strange gleam in his eye as he stared at my neck.

I backed away, shaking my head. “No – no – no. Not you, too.”

“Ellie – I would never hurt you,” he shot closer, standing right in front of me. And as much as I wanted to hate him right then, I could see how torn he was.

“I’m so sorry,” he reached out for me, his eyes dark and pleading. “I tried to warn you. I don’t have a choice. You – you don’t understand what’s at stake.”

My fingers tightened on the necklace. Fear swept through me in a powerful wave.

You need to stay away from me, Ellie. From all of us.

How could I have known this was what he meant?

And why hadn’t he taken it yet? Why was he still looking deep into my eyes, pleading with me to understand?

He stepped closer.

Ozone filled the air. My forehead prickled – a brief, electric burst that flared behind my eyes.

“Stop,” a voice demanded. A strong, powerful voice.

I found myself staring into strange silver eyes, little moons that pulled at my heart in ways I didn’t understand.

“Who are you?” Jonathon stepped in front of me protectively, which only confused me further.

The boy held up a hand, his silvery eyes on me. “I’m not your enemy,” he told Jonathon.

“I – I know you,” I whispered.

“Ellie?” Jonathon said, alert. Tense. “How do you know him?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“You need to trust me. Both of you.” Those beautiful, haunting eyes were on me.

“Trust?” I flared, exasperated. “How can I trust
anyone
when no one will tell me what’s going on?”

Jonathon stepped toward him. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave. Now.”

“I know what they’ve done.” He turned his startling eyes on Jonathon. “To you. Your family.”

All the blood drained out of Jonathon’s face.

“Jonathon?” I said softly. He looked terrified.

“I can help you,” the boy said.

“No one can help me,” Jonathon said helplessly.

The boy closed his eyes. His lithe body relaxed, and his arms rested lightly by his sides.

When he opened them again, I felt my breath catch. His silvery eyes were swirling, as though they were alive. His pupils were tiny little pinpricks – liquid silver.

My forehead tingled as I stared at him. I felt so drawn to him.

I wanted – needed – to be closer.

His skin was almost transparent. His veins stood out – liquid silver pulsing through his body. Even the fine hairs on his pale, muscular arms were tinted silver.

His whole body was glowing softly. The light seemed to come from his pores. It caught in his dark hair, giving it a silvery hue, like a halo.

“Are you an angel?” I asked, completely spellbound. He was so devastatingly beautiful.

“No,” he chuckled softly, the sound echoing lightly in the air. “Far from it.”

“Well – what are you?” I reached out, wanting to touch him.

Suddenly he was further away, and I gasped with the shock of it. He didn’t step back – it was more like one moment he was standing right in front of me, and then he wasn’t.

I fought the urge to move closer. I didn’t want to scare him away.

“I was human once,” he said, a deep and terrible sadness engulfing his face. “Now I no longer know what I am.”

The silver faded away, and I was looking at a boy again, a boy not much older than me.

He raised his right hand, and as the last traces of silver died away, a strange crisscross circular pattern burned brightly in his palm. It swirled around and around, a tiny silver galaxy, like a living tattoo.

Jonathon turned me toward him, staring at my forehead. His eyes were wide. “You’ve been Marked. I can see it.”

“See what?” I said, but he’d already turned away. I caught it briefly in the reflection of his eyes, though. A silvery oval about the size and shape of a thumbprint, right in the middle of my forehead.

Jonathon’s whole attitude had changed. He faced the boy. “You’re a Silverlighter?”

Jonathon circled around him, a look of pure awe and wonder on his face. His voice came out in an excited rush. “I thought it was just a story. The Silverlighters,” he looked at me, his eyes widening with understanding, “the Marked. All of it.”

The Silverlighter shook his head in answer, but he was watching my face carefully as though gauging my reaction.

“What’s a Silverlighter?” I asked.

Jonathon’s voice was excited, “Oh – Ellie – you have no idea. They–”

The Silverlighter held up his hand, his eyes flashing a warning at Jonathon.

Jonathon stopped, a look of horror I didn’t understand on his face.

“Would someone tell me what is going on?” I demanded, rubbing a hand lightly over my forehead. “And what the hell do you mean by Marked?”

“It means you’re one of the Protected.” Jonathon couldn’t contain his excitement. “That – that you–”

“Enough,” the Silverlighter said. His voice was a low, soft rumble. But it was powerful.

Jonathon’s mouth dropped open, and he nodded, eager to please this strange boy.

“Do the others know?” the Silverlighter demanded, the muscles of his forearm flexing as he gestured to indicate me.

My eyes widened. “Know what?”

But he wasn’t talking to me.

“They know we’re here to observe her. Find out why she’s so important. But they don’t know
who
she is. Nobody does. Only,” Jonathon shuddered, “only Scoresby knows. And even he wasn’t sure until ...” he broke off, casting a wary glance at me. Guilt flooded his face.

“Are you positive?”

Jonathon started to nod, then looked suddenly uncertain. “Madison. I think she’s starting to figure it out – she,” he glanced at me, “wants it to be true – because ... because of her sister.”

“Wants what to be true?” I asked, completely bewildered.

Jonathon snapped his mouth shut and refused to look at me.

“Would one of you tell me what is going on?” I could hear my voice rising. I didn’t care.

The Silverlighter stepped forward, taking both my hands in his. His touch was electrifying.

It felt like my body was trying to interact with his as he looked deep into my eyes.

“I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. And I meant it. Something deep in the core of my being knew that I could trust him. My faith was complete and overwhelming. If he asked me to walk to the ends of the earth – to the end of time – with him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

My face flushed at the intensity of my thoughts. The conviction behind them.

“I need you both to trust me. To do what I say.” His eyes bored into ours. “Everything you value depends on it. Then I want to talk to Jonathon.” His eyes softened as he looked at me, but his voice was firm. “Alone.”

I nodded. I’m pretty sure Jonathon nodded; my eyes were glued to the Silverlighter.

I was just as awed as Jonathon.

The Silverlighter turned to me. “I need you to be patient. Just for a bit longer. You can’t tell your father about any of this. He’s about to figure it out himself, anyway. I just need a bit more time. So I can make everything right.”

“How much time?” I asked.

“Just trust me,” he said.

I knew what he said next wasn’t meant for me. That he was trying to convince himself.

“I
will
fix this. Make it right.” His face was hard with steely determination.

He looked at Jonathon suddenly. “We have to go to Henry.”

I didn’t bother to ask who Henry was. I knew they wouldn’t tell me. And I didn’t want to leave, but I did.

I had complete faith in the Silverlighter. Just knowing he existed made me feel safer. But I couldn’t help wondering what he wanted to talk to Jonathon about – or what was going on with Jonathon’s family.

When Jonathon didn’t return to school that afternoon, Morgan came looking for me.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” I said. And I didn’t. When I looked back they were gone, leaving nothing but a strange, shimmery haze in the air where they’d been standing.

“You don’t?” Morgan’s dark, penetrating eyes bored into mine.

I shook my head. I’m not sure what he saw in my eyes, but he knew I was telling the truth.

18

The anticipation was killing me by Friday morning.

The initial anger and hurt and betrayal I felt when Jonathon shot toward me, his eyes on my mother’s necklace, never really had a chance to form into strong emotions.

I had seen the struggle in his eyes – how torn he was.

And I also knew how fast he could move.

He could have taken the necklace before I even realized it was gone.

Instead, I felt worry and pity for him – the way the blood drained from his face when the Silverlighter mentioned his family taunted me.

I had no idea why they wanted my mother’s necklace. It was a simple silver chain, with a locket that had a tiny sea-blue stone not much bigger than a pinhead. Inside was a black and white photograph of my parents holding me when I was a baby. The photo was so small and dark that I could barely make out any of our features.

It was the only photo of my mother in existence, as far as I knew.

It would have been a great loss to me, but if it meant saving Jonathon’s family, did that mean I should give it to him?

Could I be that selfless?

I honestly didn’t know.

Even though I knew Jonathon wouldn’t tell me what the Silverlighter wanted with him, I had so many questions. I figured if I played my cards right, I might get some of the answers I wanted.

He’d already told me so much, without actually saying a word. Like the way he didn’t deny he was from the future.

It only added to my growing respect for him that he chose not to answer, rather than lie to me.

Besides, he was a terrible liar. His body language was a dead-giveaway when he was being evasive. He either couldn’t look at me, or if he did, his eyelids fluttered – just once, and very briefly. And the more time I spent with him, the more I was learning to read him.

Jonathon pre-empted me. He knew I would want to talk to him.

There was a note in my locker, folded in half, with my name on it.

I recognized his handwriting.

Beck noticed me stiffen. She still looked smug.

“That is
sooooo
romantic,” she’d gushed when I gave her an adapted version of the truth, “a distraction so he could get you
alone
.”

I tried to hide the note, but wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s that?” Beck asked.

There was a horrible sinking feeling in my gut.

“What – oh – nothing.” I wrapped my fist around it.

I was nervous about opening it in front of her because I had no idea what it would say. If it would give any of Jonathon’s secrets away.

But I was more worried that it was goodbye.

That I would never see him again.

Why else would he leave a note?

“It is
not
nothing,” Beck snorted, making a grab for it.

“All right.” I forced a laugh as I pulled it away, trying to act normal when my insides were crumpling. “It’s a note.”

“You don’t say.” Beck rolled her eyes, looking pointedly at my hand.

“You know – your hair looks really nice today,” I said, pretending to study her. “Did you have it cut?”

“Seriously?” Beck chortled.

Then she looked down at my hands and saw the way I was twisting the paper. “Fine, I’ll play.” She flashed me a quick grin, and batted her eyelashes as she ran her hands through her thick, brown hair. “So – you saying I look hotter than usual?”

I chuckled, and this time it wasn’t forced. It was nice to have her back. “If you were any hotter, I’d have to call the fire department.”

I know it was selfish, and that I only knew her for a week before Chris died, but I had missed this Beck.

“You done stalling?” she asked.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Just open the damn note. The suspense is killing me.”

“Um – have you seen Jonathon or any of the others today?”

“No. Why?” Her eyes brightened. “Oh. My. God! It’s from Jonathon, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“A love note.” She nodded knowingly, the smug look returning. “What are you so worried about? I mean – it is
so
obvious he is in complete and utter lust with you.”

“It is?” I said uncertainly.
 
It wasn’t obvious to me. Not in the slightest.

Beck grabbed my hand. “Just trust me on this,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone
waaaay
past lust. The way he follows you around with his eyes. I would do anything to have Morgan look at me like that,” she let out a long, heartfelt sigh, one hand going to her chest, “to have
any
member of the male species look at me like that.”

She glanced up, a look of exaggerated horror on her face as she hissed, “Well – maybe not
any.
”

I turned, already chuckling at the expression on her face as I wondered who was behind me.

“Hi, Mr. Jones,” Beck said brightly.

I bit down on my lip.

“Girls.” Mr. Jones nodded, stopping as he reached us. “Ellie, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about chemistry.”

Beck choked back a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Mr. Jones cocked his head, his brow furrowing as he looked at Beck.

“S-sorry –” Beck bit out, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably, “Ellie and I were just talking about her – her chemistry problem. Project! I mean project!”

I could have strangled her.

“Anything I can help with?” Mr. Jones asked.

Beck’s eyes went wide. Her face was bright red, and her cheeks puffed out, but a snort of laughter escaped.

Mr. Jones got that funny little half-smile adults get when they know they’re missing something.

Beck opened her mouth, her shoulders still shaking.

“No,” I said quickly. “I’ve got it. Under. Control.”

My chest shuddered as I took a deep breath to steady myself. The laughter bubbling up inside me was close to the surface and wanted to escape.

It had been such a long time since I had laughed.

Mr. Jones nodded, and glanced at Beck again.

“I’ll talk to you in class,” he said to me, then walked off, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Not funny,” I hissed, one hand on my stomach. “You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

Beck exploded with contagious laughter, her eyes shining as she choked out her words. “Come on – you have to admit – it was a
bit
funny.”

By then I was laughing so hard I couldn’t speak.

It felt so good to laugh. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until it was pouring out of me.

Beck banged her head on my shoulder, rubbing it from side to side. When she looked up, tears were streaming down her face. “Now hurry up and read that note before I take Mr. Jones up on his offer to help.”

I carefully untwisted it as Beck watched with a broad grin.

Taking a deep breath, I looked down.

My smile was immediate and instant.

“So?” Beck prodded, her eyes widening.

“He wants me to meet him.”

“
Oooh
, la-la,” Beck sighed breathlessly. “A lovers tryst. Where and when?”

“Now. The last place I saw him.”

“Well – what are you waiting for? He could have put that there an hour ago.”

“School was closed an hour ago.”

“You know what I mean.” She slammed my locker closed, and pushed me toward the door.

Not that I needed any encouragement.

Jonathon was behind the hedge, sitting on the ground, his head bowed as though deep in thought.

He hadn’t spotted me, and I made the most of this fact as I observed him.

Jonathon was slim, but muscular. His long, jean-clad legs were bent so that he could rest his arms on his legs. The denim pulled tight against his thighs, and the curve of his butt. His white t-shirt was pulled taut against the well-defined muscles of his back, and the tops of his shoulders. I could see a slither of skin just above the waistband of his jeans where his shirt rose.

His streaky-brown hair was windblown and messy, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. His hair had fallen forward from his forehead slightly, showing the strong line of his profile.

He really was something to look at. Even his profile was perfect and balanced – the strength of his forehead, and the smooth curve from his brow, down to his nose.

I imagined running my fingers over the shape of his lips, and along the stronger lines of his chin and jaw, as I tried to figure out what it was that I found so attractive about him – why I felt so drawn to him.

Bianca used to say that was my biggest fault – the way I had to analyze everything.

But that was probably because she had been my case study. Back then, I had yet to experience my first major crush – the sort that had me staring at a boy whenever he walked past, or that turned me into a bumbling idiot like Bianca.

Bianca was the world’s biggest
drooler
, with a new crush every other week.

It intrigued me the way she could be so instantly attracted to a boy, and it worried me, because I never felt what she felt.

I used to think there was something wrong with me. Most girls my age had long since moved past first base, and many were well and truly on their way to third, or had already passed it.

That moment found me analyzing not only the aura surrounding Jonathon that made me feel this way – but the physical side of it, and my body’s reaction.

Like the way just being near him made my heart speed up, and the way it made my hands go slightly clammy.

It wasn’t just the fact he was one of
them.
They were all as good-looking as he was, and I didn’t feel attracted to Morgan or Andrew. It was more than that.

Bianca would say:
Why can’t something just be.

I smiled, and decided to take Bianca’s imagined advice.

Maybe if I hadn’t, I would have saved myself a whole world of heartache and hurt.

Damn Beck and her
lovers tryst
comment. Before that I was more interested in getting answers, not whether he liked me that way or not. I wanted to know what was up with his family. If they were okay. I wanted to know more about the Silverlighter. I wanted to know more about them and the future, and what the hell being Marked meant. And I wanted to know why the rest of
them
were so strange, when he was so normal. Or as normal as a boy from the future could be.

Jonathon’s arm moved as he plucked a blade of grass, his bicep flexing against the cuff of his shirt with the movement.

He stared at the grass as though it was something new and fresh, something he had never seen before.

A small gasp escaped my lips, and Jonathon looked up.

I felt suddenly self-conscious as he met my eye, and worried that he knew I’d been
perving
on him.

Jonathon’s face was pale and wary as he stood. His voice was soft. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

My heart lurched at the look on his face. It made me worry that something had happened.

I stepped closer, my heart thudding. But before I could ask about his family, he took a deep breath, and started speaking quickly, urgently.

“I’m so sorry, Ellie – will you ever forgive me?” He stepped closer as he spoke, moving carefully, as though worried I would run. “I – the necklace – when you reached for it ... I just knew that it had to be your mother’s. That it was what Scoresby wanted ...
 
I – I told myself it was just a necklace. That you would get over it. I had to – had to–” he broke off, and looked down at the ground, his shoulders curling in, shame in every line of his body.