The 13th: Destiny Awaits (14 page)

“And that's all?” When the traffic light turned green, he eased into the middle of the intersection and waited on the oncoming traffic before he turned left.

“Where are you going?” They should have gone straight on.

“Oh, Mandy called, said to bring you to dinner. Tyler is there, too.”

So that was the phone call he had gotten just before they left. She didn't mind joining them for a meal, actually, but he could at least have invited her beforehand. “You should at least ask me.”

“You might say ‘no.’”

“You are horrible.”

“But you like me anyway, just a little bit.” He smiled at her.

“I might.”

“We’re here.” He drove the car alongside the pavement and parked it in a white-lined spot.

Kate pulled the hood of her dark-green hoodie over her head and was about to open the car door and run to the house when Ethan's hand on her arm stopped her. “What is it?”

“I never thanked you.” His fingers stroked her palm and then he laced them with hers.

A small tingle spread over her body, and she found herself staring at their hands, unable to lift her gaze to his face. “What for?”

“For being you, for being my friend.” He squeezed her hand. “For not having expectations and for not being like Sandra.”

“For not being like Sandra? You have pretty low standards.”

He tugged her closer. “I guess disappointment can do that to you.”

Her heart palpitated in her chest as it always did when he moved so close. So close that, even in the gray light coming from outside, she could distinguish the small, icy diamonds dotting his blue irises. She thought he would kiss her, and she wanted it, the kiss, to feel his mouth against hers, to dive into the joyful bliss where everything disappeared except the two of them. But he shifted away and, with a frown on his face, glanced at the house.

Was somebody watching them? Kate turned and looked at the house.  Except for the curtain of rain thundering against the pavement and grass, there was nothing there. She would have asked him what was wrong, but would that make it seem like she wanted the kiss? Which she did, but she didn't want him to know that.

“We better get inside.” He pulled his jacket from the back seat. “Come on.” He threw the jacket over his head, opened the door and ran toward the house.

Scowling, Kate followed him, with her hood pulled tight over her head.

Mandy greeted them in the foyer. As soon as Kate got rid of her shoes, Mandy drew her up the stairs. “Look at you, you’re all wet.”

“Where's Tyler?” Kate asked.

“He's cooking.”

“That's a good one,” Kate said.

“I forgot to tell you: We’re on our own and Mandy’s cooking.” Taking two stairs at a time, Ethan pushed his way past them.

“I'm quite a good cook, so you don't have to worry,” Mandy reassured Kate.

“Not as good as I am, though,” Ethan said from the hallway, before he disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” Mandy dragged Kate into her bedroom. She peeled the hoodie off Kate, then pushed Kate into the bathroom. “Dry your hair.”

“It's not even wet.”

“It's damp. Dry it.”

“When did you get so bossy?” The corners of Kate's mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.

“Towels are under the left sink. Use one,” Mandy ordered before she shut the door.

Kate shook her head, but she took a towel and rubbed her hair with it. She stepped toward the door that led into Ethan's room. She was about to knock when she heard voices coming from behind it.

Was it the same ghost he was talking to the last time? She silently opened the door and peered inside through the narrow gap. Ethan stood before his opened wardrobe, opposite the king-size bed, while a girl with a green aura hovered behind him, talking to him in a strange language full of consonants.

“I told you before, she's just a friend.” The door of the wardrobe shielded Ethan for a moment as he pulled out a sweater. “And no, I won’t talk in Japanese when you understand English quite well.”

They had to be friends, he and the girl, but who was she? Kate squinted her eyes, trying to see, to distinguish the face framed with long, dark silky hair. Why was she there, and why was she visible despite the absence of Ethan's gloves and her scythe?

The girl spoke up and by the sound of her high-pitched tone, Kate assumed she wasn't satisfied with Ethan's answer.

“Yuki, my darling, you are so silly.” Ethan turned around, a smile plastered on his face. “You know that nobody can compare to you.”

Yuki said something.

“She's just a source of power to me.”

A source of power,
Kate silently repeated. Were they talking about her?

Another string of consonants.

“I'm training her. The stronger she gets, the stronger I get, that's all. I don't know why you are making such a fuss when I’ve told you so many times that she means nothing to me. Nothing.” Ethan took the girl's hand like it was solid. “How could she, when you are my girl, right? How could I like anybody else when I have you?”

The girl giggled, a bell-like sound, and playfully slapped his shoulder as she replied.

Kate gently closed the door and leaned on it, her hands curling at her sides. So that's how it was? She shouldn't have been surprised, she’d known that from the start. He never hid why he had chosen her: because of her powers. But he said that he liked her. He said that they should date for real. Why? Why did he say that when she meant nothing to him?

The nails dug into the softness of her palms. It didn't matter. It didn't matter! So what if he didn't really like her? So what if she liked him? It wasn’t like she wanted to. She would just stop liking him; it was only a stupid infatuation, anyway. But, then, why did it feel like a dark hole had opened inside of her, like she had just lost something precious?

Unlovable. She was so unlovable.

She felt wetness at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill forward. She forced it back. She wouldn’t cry over such a little thing. She wouldn’t. But she did wish for the comfort of her wardrobe. A dark corner to curl up and to -- she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She wouldn’t cry!

She took a few shaky breaths, went to the sink, set her hand on the cool ceramic and scrutinised herself in the mirror, up close. The harsh lines of her features and red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. She sighed, splashed cold water on her face, then forced her lips to curve into a smile before she pushed open the door of Mandy's room.

Kate sneezed. Her head almost bumped against the wooden wall of her wardrobe and her headphones slid off her ears. She readjusted the headphones, again hearing the soothing sounds coming from the
Braveheart
soundtrack and then took a tissue to wipe her nose. She had a light cold, nothing serious, but she had used it as an excuse to skip school and lessons with Ethan.

Another sneeze and another dirty tissue tossed in the corner of the wardrobe. She should put them in the trash and -- she weighed the Thermos cup in her hand. Empty. She should also make some tea. She rolled onto her back and had to stretch her legs and rest them against the wall to compensate for the lack of the space. She was pathetic, wasn't she? Pretending to be sick, wallowing in the closet and drowning her misery in large quantities of herbal tea and replays of her favourite songs.

The phone's display lit the inside of the wardrobe, telling her of an incoming call. Yesterday morning she had sent a text to Tyler that she wasn't feeling well, asking him to tell everybody not to bother her, since she was going to spend a few days in bed. She peeked at the display: Ethan.

Ethan.
The boy to whom she meant nothing. The boy who only saw her as a source of power.

So what?

She didn't care.

She didn't care!

But then why couldn't she face him? Why couldn't she answer his calls?

She took a long shaky breath. What was wrong with her?

She had experienced far worse than a boy not liking her, so why -- she turned her mouth upward and stiffly held it there, but instead of a smile, it become a grimace, at least it felt like grimace -- why was it so hard to smile?

There are worse things that could happen, and they already had -- just remember your last visit to the sanatorium. Stop being so pathetic, Kate, and just get a grip on yourself.
She had been telling herself that for the last two days. Why wasn't she feeling better? Why hadn't she already picked herself up and moved on? She cursed.

Her stomach growled.

She sighed. She hadn't eaten anything this morning and it was now -- she glanced at the phone -- three past eleven. To eat or not to eat?

Her stomach growled again.

To eat, then. She dragged herself out of the closet and down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Kate, is that you?” her father's voice came from the living room.

Who else would it be? And what was her father doing at home, anyway? “Yes,” she yelled. She filled the electric kettle by the sink and then browsed through the selection of tea as her father walked into the room.

“I thought you were at the neighbours’.”

She didn't need to ask how he knew she had missed school, aware that the school notified parents about a student’s absence via text or email. And she did usually spend her sick days in Tyler's living room, on Tyler's couch, being spoiled by Nan. “I'm not in the mood for company.”

“I looked into your room and you weren’t there.”

“Yes, I was.” She chose two teabags, a chamomile and a cherry, which she put in her Thermos cup and then poured hot water over. She closed the lid of the glass and went to the fridge. She would prefer to eat something warm, but she wasn't in the mood for cooking.

“Not in the closet?” He blocked her path to the refrigerator.

“Yes, in the closet.” She sighed and crossed her arms, then lifted her gaze, not feeling up to the preaching that was probably going to follow. She noticed the bags under her father's eyes and deep wrinkles around his mouth and on his forehead. He looked old and tired.

“You promised you would stop.”

“When did I do that?” She was about to brush by him when his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“You have to stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Hiding in the closet, drawing pentagrams and using salt.”

She hadn't being doing that for more than a month now and so what if she used the wardrobe? It gave her comfort when she needed it, which couldn't be said for him. “You mean, things like
she
used to do?” Except her mother never used the closet, she pretended that she wasn't well, shut herself in her room and confined herself to bed. “I'm not crazy.”

“I never said you were. But... maybe it would be good if you started back with --”

“No.” She stepped backwards. No more sessions with the psychiatrist. Some people benefited from them, but they weren't helping her, especially not the group sessions where she was supposed to share her troubles with a bunch of strangers. Yes, the idea of sharing that ghosts haunted her in the form of colourful transparent specks with faces was really appealing.

“I shouldn't have let you talk me into letting you give up your therapy.”

“It wasn't helping me.” But how could it? The things she saw were real, not a figment of her mind.

“It could, in the long term.”

“No, it couldn't.” Her body tensed. There's no way she was going to have any more sessions. “Why is everybody telling me what to do? I'm sick of it.”

“Kate?”

Her mother, her father, the psychiatrist, the doctors, and even Ethan... Everybody was ordering her do this or do that. What was she? A dog? At least a dog got a treat or praise here and there, what did she ever get for her obedience? Not even a thank-you. Unlovable, that’s what she was.

“Kate, darling, I'm only thinking of you.”

“Yes, of course. That's why you’re never home.”

Her father grimaced, as if in pain.

She had overstepped the line. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

“It's true.”

But only because they needed the money for the sanatorium. “It doesn't matter.”

“Don't do that.” He pulled her into a hug. “Don't apologize. I would rather you have a tantrum and stomp out of the kitchen than… you are a teenager and you should behave like one.”

She hesitantly returned the hug. It had been so long since they had shared one. She missed him. She missed the family they’d had, so much. She buried her face in his shoulder. A feeling of calm enveloped her. Her father's smell and warmth pulled out the memory of her crying in glee as he tossed her high in the air while the sun caressed her face and grass swayed in a light breeze.

“No more hiding in the closet, please.”

She nodded, even though she had no intention of even considering his wish. That's what she did, she chose the easy way out, even if that easy way always brought her more troubles later on. This was the same thing she had done with Sandra, wasn’t it? She gave Sandra attitude, but she never really fought back. And now with Ethan; she had been avoiding him and would continue to until -- until what? She got over her disappointment? Or until she got over this stupid infatuation with him? It would never have occurred in the first place if she hadn't spent so much time with him. But how could she reduce their time together when she still had to learn five more spells?

#

Holding her books tightly against her chest, Kate sneaked around the corner, her gaze darting among the students with the intention of hiding at the first sight of any familiar faces. She only had one class left before the end of school, and though she shared one class with Tyler and two with Mandy, she, luckily, didn't have any classes with Ethan.

“Kate,” a male voice called her from behind.

She froze and her heartbeat stopped for a moment. Of all the people, did it really have to be Ethan?

She took a shaky breath. Maybe if she pretended that she hadn’t heard him, she might get away. She rushed forward, elbowing her way past the group of boys and girls strolling by the walls lined with lockers.

“Kate, wait up.” Fingers took hold of the strap of her bag and tugged her backward.

Kate grimaced, but when she turned around, her mouth, stiff at the corners, curved in what she hoped looked like a smile. “Oh, Ethan. Hi.” At least her voice sounded normal.

“Don't 'hi' me.” Ethan jabbed his finger into her shoulder. “Why haven't you been answering your phone?”

She furrowed her brows as she stared at his Adam’s apple, too afraid to lift her gaze. Her body wanted to double over and fall on its knees, but she stubbornly held it upright. “I didn't feel well.”

“Which explains your absence, not your silence.”

She could feel his eyes on her, scalding her skin, and redness that crept into her cheeks because of it. Why couldn't he just leave her alone, just give her a little time? “I'm sorry about that... it's just...”

“Never mind.” He looped his arm with hers, turned her around and led her across the hallway. “As long as you promise you’ll never do that again.”

She bit the inside of her mouth as the touch of his arm around hers and the brush of his shoulder against hers deepened the ache inside her. He didn't like her, he just pretended he did.

He gently shoved her with his elbow. “Where are you?”

“Huh?” She risked a quick glance at him, frowning at the smile that shone down on her, hating it. The hypocrite. “I'm still a little tired, I think.”

“Oh,” he sounded disappointed. “You look fine to me, so I thought... I guess you won't be joining us today and I was so counting on you.”

“I'm afraid you will have to deal with Sandra on your own.”

“Couldn't you keep me company anyway? We could work on your meditation later. You are well enough for a little meditation, aren't you?”

“I have to study to catch up on the missing days.”

“You could do that in the dojo; it's quiet enough.”

She shook her head in a ‘no.’

“Please.”

“Some other time.”

“Come on.”

The bell rang, and she used it to get away from Ethan and from the possibility that she might yield to his request.

Avoiding him would not take away the hurt, she knew that, but it did muffle the pain. She couldn't avoid him indefinitely, though:  she still needed the names of anther six spells.

After school she lined three papers with drawn symbols of the spells, which reminded her of Chinese letters,
kanji
.

With the first name, the handbook not only showed her instructions and the explanation of the spell, but also general information on casting the spells. It told that every ritual was divided into three stages: preparation, execution and closure, and different combinations of spells and the sequence in which they were performed produced different kinds of protection. For now, she knew the spell for purifying the area, the one that commanded the invisible to become visible, and the one that set the boundaries of the protection: the
Sanctimonia, Animadverto
and
Ambitus
. Latin names. Which was weird, since they were also listed in the book under more contemporary names: Purifying, Seeing, and Bordering. They didn't sound as mystical as they did in Latin; maybe that's why Ethan had given her the Latin names and not the simple ones.

“The
Sanctimonia
. The Purifying.” Sitting behind her desk, Kate replicated the symbol from the book that, if she squinted her eyes, reminded her of a flame coming out from a rose.

She put the slip alongside a piece of paper with arrows that pointed out into eight directions from the centre of the square. According to the handbook every ritual needed to start with the Purifying and the Bordering spell. The Purifying cleansed the space and the Bordering marked the parameters of that space. From the instructions, she also learned that in smaller spaces, spells were stronger, and that in a larger area, the execution part of the ritual had to be repeated to have the right effect. It made sense.

Next she drew curves that reminded her of an eye in a sphere. The Seeing, which caused the invisible to become visible. At first she thought that the spell made ghosts visible to the living, but no; if she understood correctly, it only unveiled spirits' hideouts and it was something that the book recommended should be done together with the Purifying spell.

She closed the handbook, stood up and stretched, her eyes not moving away from the three slips of paper on her desk. Until she got the rest of them, she would have to endure Ethan's company with a smile on her face. But could she do it?

If she only -- When had she started to feel so strongly about him? And why? Because of the food? A ghost of a smile curved her mouth. She was a sucker for good food and he did cook quite well.

She sighed. She would get a grip on it. Of course she would, eventually, since she always picked herself up, even with a broken heart. And she had experience with that. But she needed time. Time she didn't have.

Six spells. Two lessons per spell, two lessons a week. Four dates for a spell. How many dates could she cram into a week? She would have to call Ethan and ask him that.

She leaned over the desk and her fingers glided over the phone's surface. She wasn't ready to do it then, but soon. Yes, she would do it soon, maybe even the next day.  She needed to get moving before Nan called her, complaining that the food was getting cold.