The Locket (13 page)

Thinking about this for a moment, I racked my brain for something traumatic from my childhood that would trigger a memory.

“The dog?” I offered.

“Yes, very good Claire,” he said.

Fear flooded my mind but the details were still foggy.

“I remember being in the woods chased by a dog. I was terrified. I recall when the ordeal started and when it was over, but nothing in-between. My mom swept me up in her arms and we left Northfield that night,” I informed him.

“I will never forget it. I felt every bit of terror you did. It didn’t last long but I begged my parents to make it stop. My mother held me and rubbed my back promising it would be okay,” Brent shared, looking distraught.

His revelation toiled with my emotions, as I thought about Brent as a small child, wrenching in pain all because of me. It didn’t seem fair. Remembering other times in my life when I was afraid, I pictured a brown-haired little Brent clinging to his mom, his blue eyes filling with tears. My heart ached for him.

“Last July must have been awful for you. I’m so sorry, Brent,” I said, remembering how much pain I experienced when my parents died. I hadn’t been alone in my struggle after all.

“Don’t, please. I learned to control the way it affects me. As I got older I accepted that it’s a gift, and that someday it would help me save you. When I felt you yesterday, the only thing I was afraid of was not making it to you in time.” He struggled to finish the sentence. My body stiffened with the memory.

Brent kept going telling me the Agent wanted to see how I would respond to fear.

“Your mother told him you were afraid of dogs. They took you into the woods and let the dog loose on you. They assured your parents if the dog made it to you, they would end the experiment. You weren’t in any real danger. Your father protested but your mother convinced him they needed to know. The dog charged after you and you ran screaming, but as the beast got closer, you turned and faced him. Just as you did at Maggie’s, yesterday, you created an encasement around your body, manipulating energy. The dog smashed against it and fell to the floor, yelping in pain from the impact. It was confirmed. You were The Locket child.”

Relief swept over me. My parents weren’t crazy after all. Their erratic behavior was all to conceal my identity, keeping me safe from this monster, Kace.

“Are you okay? Please don’t worry, Claire. This is all meant to be.”

“I’m not worried,” I lied. “Why would you think that?”

“You purse your lips to the side and put your head down whenever you’re worried,” Brent teased, easing the tension that had been clinging strongly to the air between us. I was thankful to him for the break in intense conversation.

“I do not!” I argued, knowing darn well that he was right. I pursed my lips again in an exaggerated fashion, and looked at him through a furrowed brow in a lame attempt at pouting.

A contagious smile curled at the corners of his beautiful mouth. He let a laugh roll of his lips and shook his head. “You’re hilarious, Blake.”

Oh, so we were back to Blake now. Whenever he was teasing and playful, I was Blake and when he was serious, I was Claire. Sticking my tongue at him, I tucked that thought away for future reference.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

He told me we would wait until I was ready and then we would start chasing. Once we found Kace, we would isolate him so he couldn’t escape The Realm again.

“When that is completed, we should have an easy time rounding up his followers. Peace will be restored in the physical world. Once again, The Realm can function as it has for centuries assuring that humans fulfill their purpose, successfully, and move onto the next one.” He summed it all up, confidently.

“Just like that, huh?” I said, mocking him with my tone.

“Just like that,” he said, his blues eyes sparkling.

“How will we know when I am ready?” I asked curiously.

“We’ll know,” he assured me.

Brent joined me, and we walked together on the beach, examining rocks as we went. Brent took a seat and began drawing in his book. I continued filtering though the many stones. Some of them were really amazing, appearing to glow in the sun’s reflection like hot coals. Most of the ones I gathered were brilliant amber in color. After scrutinizing them, I realized they were probably not Jasper at all but some sort of volcanic rock. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the makeup of the mysterious stones. Some might be quartz, and my scientific brain wrestled with what category they belonged in. Brent teased me, telling me my inner nerd was too loud, and I should just relax and enjoy how beautiful and unique each stone was. They were magnificent, especially when they were wet. I felt like spending hours, maybe even days, on this beach, examining each intricate stone.

The sound of the waves as the water cascaded through each of the stones was so different from the sound you would hear on a sand beach. It was louder, more aggressive, like the water was assaulting each stone as it drew back. I decided I could listen to it for hours.

The urge to run into the water surprised me, and without thinking, I went for it. I made it no further than my ankles before I realized it was freezing. The entire lower half of my body went numb as the frigid water cooled my veins in seconds. Turning, I bolted back to shore, tripping on the uneven surface, falling on my derriere, right as a wave reached the shore, drenching the rest of me.

Twisting my head, I saw Brent was laughing at me.

“I’m glad you’re amused, Cassidy,” I teased, mimicking his playful use of last names. But the words were unidentifiable babble as I shouted them through chattering teeth.

Brent came to offer me a hand with a giant grin plastered to his smug face. I gave him a dirty look and attempted to get up on my own, but failed miserably.

“Come on Blake, you have to admit, that was funny,” he teased.

Seriously, I wasn’t laughing.

“It was not,” I protested, stifling a giggle. Failing again to get my legs under me, the waves continued cooling my blood. I was sure if I didn’t accept Brent’s hand for help, I would die right there of hypothermia.

“Come on, Blake. Your lips are turning blue,” he said, rolling his eyes when I refused his hand.

I stuck my tongue out at him, annoyed. Before I even saw his reaction, he lifted me from the beach, swinging me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Put me down,” I insisted. He ignored me, and proceeded to the house up every step as though I weighed nothing, ignoring my fisting into his back.

When we reached the top of the stairs, he finally set me down, grinning with way too much delight.

“Let me guess, another one of your abilities?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, I’m just that strong,” he laughed, patting his chest, obviously taking my question as a huge compliment. “Thanks for noticing.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I could have gotten up on my own,” I said, rolling my eyes and attempting to sound rebellious.

“Yes, I could see that,” he said grinning ear to ear.

We went inside and Brent got me a towel. Glancing at his cell phone on the counter, he picked it up, pressed a few buttons and returned his gaze to mine. I assumed he was probably texting with Reese, and decided to shrug it off, not wanting to spoil the moment between us.

His smile widened showcasing his perfectly white teeth. He really was gorgeous.

“Your lips are still blue, Blake,” he chuckled.

“Ahhh,” was all I managed to say. While I pretended to be ticked off, I loved this playful, carefree side to him. His confidence made him all the more appealing. I resisted the urge to throw my wet body into his arms, fist my hands through his hair and demand that he kiss me.

Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was after four o’clock. I didn’t think we had been on the beach so long. My stomach rumbled letting me know I was starving. I hardly touched my breakfast and needed to eat sooner, rather than later.

“You hungry?” I asked Brent.

‘Famished,” he said. “What should I cook?”

“I got it. You cooked breakfast,” I offered. “I’m going to get changed, warm up, and then I’ll show you one of my abilities,” I teased. I was in fact, a very good cook. My mom had taught me well, and I looked forward to doing this for him because I wanted to, not because some divine concept in the universe said I should.

After spending an eternity in the shower warming every inch of me, I changed into the thickest sweats I found. Still freezing, I also found thick socks and layered a long-sleeved shirt under the sweats.

I came downstairs to find Brent on the couch watching Sports Center, still scribbling in his book. Sitting there watching the commentators discuss football, he seemed like any normal high school aged guy. He waved at me and I smiled, joining him on the couch.

“Can I see?” I asked, pointing to his pad of paper.

“It’s not finished yet,” he replied, smiling shyly, holding the book to his chest.

“I’m sure it’s great. Come on, let me see it.”

He handed me the pad and my heart skipped a beat when I looked down on the page, seeing myself on the rocky beach below. I was squatting down looking at a rock in one hand and holding the toy pail in the other, my toes curled around the stones.

“I told you I couldn’t resist the scenery,” he flirted, making my heart feel as though there were butterflies flying around in it.

“This is amazing, Brent,” I complimented, my cheeks burning feverishly.

“It’s all right,” he said, apprehensively.

“It’s more than all right. It’s incredible. You’re so talented,” I said, trying not to smile like some star-struck groupie. “I would love to keep it.”

“When I’m done,” he said, pulling the notebook from my hands frowning.

“I didn’t mean to push,” I said softly, knowing how it felt to show your talents to others. I had been playing guitar since I was a kid, and could still never muster the courage to do it for anyone other than my parents.

His brow was creased in a way that had become familiar to me, marking some internal struggle within him.

“It’s fine. What about that food? I’m starving,” he asked.

Making my way through the fridge I found mushrooms, onion, garlic, porchetta, fresh romano cheese and cream. I retrieved some olive oil and pasta in the cabinets, scoring when I found an indoor herb garden adorning the kitchen window. Clipping fresh basil and parsley from the dense plants, I measured a tablespoon for both. I poured the olive oil in a skillet, heating it on the stove. It was a great kitchen, with top of the line appliances I’m sure rivaled those in fine restaurants.

Cooking in this kitchen was enjoyable, satisfying my inner chef. I started a pot of water, and set the pasta aside until the pot boiled. Setting the cheese and cream aside until everything was thoroughly cooked, I tossed the remaining ingredients in the heated oil. Once the water boiled, I added the pasta, setting a timer on the stove to ensure it would cook to al dente perfection. I added the cream and cheese to the skillet, stirring the sauce until it thickened to the consistency I wanted, and set it aside while the pasta finished.

“That smells wicked awesome. I’m drooling over here,” Brent called from the front room.

My mind wandered off to a sensual place, envisioning me feeding Brent each bite of his supper and him smiling at me, love in his eyes. He swallowed hard when he finished and brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. He told me I was beautiful, and he loved me more than life itself. Then his lips met mine and he kissed me softly. As the vision continued, a muffled giggle from under the table interrupted us. A little Brent popped out and jumped into his daddy’s lap. “Eww, you guys were kissing,” the child said sweetly. Brent started tickling his ribs and the child’s boisterous laughter filled the room.

“Beep. Beep. Beep.” The timer interrupted my fantasy.

What the hell was that?

“Are you all right?” Brent was by my side, resting his hand on the small of my back. I felt the heat in my cheeks, fire engine red, on full display. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him right then, as I was sure after where my thoughts had just taken me, I would have little self-control. I would have been unable to resist attacking him right there in the kitchen.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, sliding his index finger across my lips, removing the purse they had formed. I bit my lip in response.

I took two quick steps back before I did something wrong. Not that I would regret it, but it was wrong. It wasn’t our design and I was trying to accept that. Why did he have to be so funny and charming if he couldn’t be mine?

“I’m good,” was all I could utter out.

He got a colander from the cabinet and drained the pasta into it. I gathered two plates and utensils and went about setting the table. I mixed the pasta and sauce together spooning it onto our plates. Taking a seat next to Brent, I noticed the uncertainty in his pained expression. We both knew how we felt about each other and it was getting harder for him to deny it.

I decided to break the uncomfortable silence. “So, any football news I should know about?”

“Uh, really, you want to talk about football?” Brent asked, raising a suggestive brow.

“Sure, why not. I love football.” I did enjoy football. I watched every Sunday with my parents. No matter where we lived my dad had to have the NFL package so he could watch his beloved Patriots.

“Okay, Blake. Who’s your favorite player on the Patriots and don’t say Tom Brady or this discussion is over.” He was mocking me, really? Was it so hard to believe that I could be a football fan?

“All right then, Tedy Bruschi.” I saw he wanted to interrupt, so I continued before he did. “Yes, I know, he’s retired, so if you mean current player then I have to say Vince Wilfork.”