Speed of Light (10 page)

T
ens closed his eyes thoughtfully. “You think because she’s been on the other side, the veil is thinner? She can see Light even when she’s not actively dying?”

“I don’t know. That makes the most sense.” I stretched out on the bed, shoving aside piles of our research. My eyes were sandpapery.

“Lucinda Myer has several journal entries that talk about mirror gazing and people being able to see the light when they’re in a trance.”

“That’s the Abe Lincoln reference, right? That he saw himself dead?”

“Hmm, and Patton talked to his dead father before every battle.”

“We know Señora Portalso could see my Light.” She’d sat next to me on the bus from Portland to Revelation, then helped us when Tens almost died.

“Rumi can see a little of it.”

“So there’s a whole type of person, who isn’t angelic, that is aware of us.” We’d tacked up a scroll similar to Rumi’s that we were adding to. I got off the bed and started a new list. “Near-death experiences—that’s Delia. Señora is an unknown. Rumi has a familial connection to Fenestras too.”

“We don’t know for sure which of Rumi’s family members are Fenestra, right?”

I shook my head. Rumi shared the heirloom writings with us like we shared Auntie’s journal with him. “What about his uncle? Do you think he was just a black sheep or did he turn Nocti?”

Tens frowned. “It would kill Rumi if he finds out he’s related to Dark.”

I rolled my neck.
Ouch
.

“Knots?” He motioned me over to the edge of the bed.

I propped myself up and he started digging gently with his thumbs and then with more force.
Oh, yay
. I moaned.

“Maybe we need to add stretching or yoga to our daily routine? You can’t function well if you’re all twisted up.”

Surprised, I gulped, “You know yoga?”

“I did a stint as an errand boy at a retreat center in eastern Oregon,” he said matter-of-factly.

On his way to Auntie’s? In the years he only had himself to rely on? He couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen
. “And they didn’t ask questions? Like where your parents were?”
How they could help you?

“No speaking was allowed. They fed me, gave me a place to stay, and I ran all over taking written messages to people.” He shrugged. “Watched a lot of contortions during group meditations.”

“You meditated?” I blanched at the shock in my voice.
Why am I so surprised?

“Nah, it wasn’t bad.”

“Why’d you leave?” I glanced over my shoulder.

“You weren’t there.” He lowered his eyelashes and concentrated on rubbing my shoulders.

My heart grieved for the little boy he was but also rejoiced in knowing this man would do anything, endure anything, confront anything, to protect me and keep me safe.
All of me—my soul, my spirit, my body
. “Is it possible to be really sad and really happy at the same time?”

“Every day, Supergirl.”

I leaned back into his arms and he wrapped them around me. He dropped his lips to the curve of my neck and nibbled. I sighed, relaxing into his touch, inhaling the pine and earthy aromas belonging solely to him.

His fingers flirted with the skin along my midriff; his
calluses tickled and stroked until I shivered. I turned in his arms and fit my lips to his.

Our tongues met, promised, and danced. He shucked my T-shirt over my head and tossed his too.

The feel of his naked skin on my breasts thrilled. His nipples pebbled against mine. Waves of heat rolled off of him and I wrapped my legs around his hips.

He pressed me down into the mattress and I reveled in the weight of him against me. My hips arced toward him. Clothing rubbed and felt like an impediment, too heavy and thick between us. I reached toward his waistband, dipping my fingers under it when the “Hallelujah Chorus,” digitized and electric, interrupted.
What in the world?

We froze. The ringtone began again.

“It’s Tony,” Tens said against my mouth. Frustration at the disruption was evident in his growl.

I started laughing. “How apropos.”

“Wanna know what your ringtone is?” Tens gave me a tender smile as he hit TALK. His fingers circled along my ribs, my breasts. I caught his hand. Stopped his exploration. As much as I wanted to continue, wanted to peel every layer of clothing and focus on the feeling, I couldn’t. It felt like making out in front of my parents, even though Tony had no idea what we were doing.

My lips felt swollen and hot. I tugged on my shirt, not worrying about a bra.

“Sure. Yeah. We’ll be there soon,” Tens said as a single drop of sweat ran down his chest.

I reached for my bra. “We’re going out?”

“Juliet’s disappeared again. He’s worried. Tony wants to talk to us.”

I nodded.

Usually leading-man handsome, Tony was haggard and disheveled, as if he’d aged ten years in the last week. “What is she thinking?” he implored me about Juliet.

“I wish I knew,” I answered honestly and with utter conviction.

“She has no idea how much I’ve tried to shield her from. She doesn’t know who to trust. Who to talk to. Who to ask for help if she gets lost. It’s worse than having her as a toddler because now she’s angry and hurt and stubborn as hell. What am I doing wrong?” He wiped his mouth and took another long drought of coffee. “I thought it would get better with time, but it’s like she keeps fading further and further away from me.”

He’s right
. “I feel it too,” I said.

“Should I have sent her north to Wolf Lake with Joi and the kids? She keeps asking about Bodie and Sema. She doesn’t believe me that they’re being kids swimming, building tree houses, and eating ice cream.”

“She doesn’t have a reference place for normal. It’s like a foreign language,” Tens said.

“How do I help her?” Tony repeated. His salt-and-pepper hair was uncombed and mussed.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Aside from letting me teach her tricks to read, she won’t speak about her mother. When I couldn’t tell her who her father was, it’s like she decided we had nothing to talk about.” He trembled and set down the mug. “She not only looks like her mother, but she’s also as closed off as Roshana was, especially in the beginning.”

“But Roshana learned to trust you?”

“Not enough, clearly, because if she had, I would know about Juliet’s family. I might have been able to stop Roshana from getting in that car.” His voice broke. “From dying.”

“No, I’m sorry, but no.” Tens’s answer was harsh and direct. “You recognized Ms. Asura as the woman in the car that carried Roshana away, right?”

“Yes.” Tony nodded. “She hasn’t aged a day, so yes, I’m certain that it was her.”

“These Nocti are organized, vicious, and don’t hesitate to kill innocents to get what they want. If Roshana had told you who she was running from, assuming you’d believed her, you would have gone with her that day or brought in the police, correct?”

Tony sighed. “Probably.”

“And you’d be dead, too, and no one would have protected Juliet until she was six.” Tens made valid points.

“They got her anyway.” Tears rolled down Tony’s cheeks.

Tens shook his head. “You couldn’t have predicted the church’s wild-goose chase was a ploy to get you away from Juliet.”

“If I’d taken Roshana and Juliet, we could have run somewhere safe.”

“There is nowhere safe,” I interjected. “Life everywhere means death is everywhere—it’s unavoidable—and where there’s death, there will be Nocti and Fenestra.”

“You have to stop feeling guilty for things you are not responsible for,” Tens said. “You have to be her parent as Roshana asked you to be.”

“Roshana gave her life to protect Juliet and the Nocti got her anyway.” Tony blew his nose.

“But they don’t have her now,” I whispered.
At least, I hope not
.

I
knew no one understood what drew me back to DG’s grounds. I couldn’t explain it, even if I’d wanted to try. It nourished me in a way that transcended physical hunger. Even though it was, as Tens said, hell on earth, it was the only place in the world where I felt a connection to my mother. It didn’t matter that Mistress was dead. That the stairwell I’d hidden under in that monstrous tornado was gone. The debris bulldozed into piles and hauled away. That the cement foundation and the old storm cellar were the only parts left. The trees that hadn’t been plucked
from the earth and blended to sawdust were stripped clean down to the bone beneath the bark.

With my eyes, I saw that DG was nothing like what I’d grown up in. The run-down mansion that hid unspeakable horror was reduced to a foundation slab—memories like spiderwebs drifted everywhere and clung to every bit of my heart. I couldn’t inhale past the pain without focusing all my energy on my lungs, my ribs. Each motion happened in thick honey, deep in cold porridge.

I picked leaves to shreds as I stared at the land. When we’d fought her at the creek, Ms. Asura mentioned my mother. Tony thought she was connected to my mother’s abduction from his church. That the Nocti had conspired to steal me from Tony too.
To raise me until they could use me on my sixteenth birthday. Tony is so sure, so convinced he knows what my life should be
.

Last February, Ms. Asura brought Kirian back here to seduce me into their company. Only thoughts, and love, for Nicole, Bodie, and Sema kept me from truly embracing what he’d offered. I’d only had them to lose. Now I had so many more people to lose.
How am I supposed to do it? How do I make sure no one else hurts because of me?

Nicole, my best friend, my confidante at DG, hadn’t been human after all; rather, she’d been an angel, a guardian to help me survive. I wrapped my fingers around the silver filigreed necklace she’d worn and mysteriously hung on my neck as she’d left. Engraved on it was a Bible quote promising guardian angels to guard and protect. She’d tried to spur me to hunt up my truth, but I’d
brushed her off too many times.
Wasted opportunities
. But the little sips and nibbles of my history only made me hungrier to know more.
I need to know my blood, my family, whatever it takes
.

Seeing Tony again brought back much of my early childhood, but I’d been so little, still a baby when she’d disappeared, that my mother never shared any of our story with me.
Why is she so badly injured when I see her at the window? Who is my father? Where is he?

I found solace by the water, along the shores of Wildcat Creek that ran through the woods behind DG. More than the house itself, I was pulled to the creek. Listening to the water roll and gurgle sounded like Mother Earth conversing with Papa Time. I pretended I could hear my mother and my father speaking in the distance as the water ran by.

The early evening sun beat down on my shoulders and even my long blond hair warmed to the touch. I’d left it long, continued to grow it. I wasn’t strong like Meridian. I didn’t want to cut my hair off to prove I’d moved on, the way she’d hacked hers off in Revelation. She told me her stories like they were mine.
We are so different. She doesn’t understand the choices I make to keep the littlies safe, giving myself to hatred to spare others. She may never understand
.

I shucked off my leather sandals, unwrapping the dirty bandage from my foot. I stayed on my toes, rolled up the cuffs of my jean capris, and waded out. Murky ick gave way to perfect sand, then small pebbles. The trees with leaves like spinach danced and fluffy white
seeds sprinkled through the air like sifting flour in slow motion.

The water sparkled and dipped in colors that ranged from the gray of moldy bread to the gold of olive oil to rich kale greens. Lime-colored grasses taller than Bodie grew in clumps along the side of the creek. Wildflowers the colors of blueberries, butter, and whipped cream helped themselves to sun and dirt and water.
This is my home
.

A pair of lemon and licorice butterflies played tag with each other among grapefruit-sized dragonflies and mosquitoes.
They are my family
.

A kestrel perched low above me, watching smaller birds. A blue jay and a brown squirrel fought over seeds. A family of mallard ducks swam along the edge of my vision, keeping their ducklings close and staying between us.
These are my friends
.

Going out farther, I enjoyed the cold rush of water along my calves and the textures underfoot. The cut on my sole ached. Tony will scold me for getting it wet.

This is my world. As welcoming as any kitchen. This is comfort food for my heart
.

I worried about the littlies. There was so much change in their lives. Too much. Children were resilient until they broke. I’d seen it often enough in my time at DG.
They have the family I’ve always wanted
. Jealousy flared bitter on my tongue.

My gaze was drawn toward the hole of DG’s storm cellar. I’d helped Nelli cart out boxes and storage tubs of files, some so old they were yellow and broke apart at the
slightest touch. Some had mildewed and molded with the fuzz of being in an unfinished cellar for so many years.