Coveted

  Chapter 23

  On Monday morning, it didn't matter that Bran walked with his arm around my shoulders. I felt like an exposed circus freak. Evidently, my return had dredged up the events of the previous week. I couldn't take the looks and the whispering. I stared at my shoes, trusting in Bran to keep me from walking into a door frame.

  We sat in home room and I held onto his hand, refusing to let it go. He didn't seem to mind.

  When Alistair entered, my breathing shallowed. The sunlight through the windows blinded me from his wrinkles so that his younger face and his kind eyes were what I saw before me. Our time together might as well have just happened rather than being a several-hundred-year-old event. The affection I had felt for him then fought with my resentment for keeping me away from Bran and with my curiosity for the trove of knowledge he held but refused to divulge.

  He set his bag down in the teacher's chair and looked up, smiling at me briefly. I looked down at my desk.

  "Mr. Sheehy," he said. "I've asked you before and I won't ask again. Keep your body parts to yourself."

  Bran hesitated. They glared at each other.

  "Perhaps you need detention so that we can discuss appropriate behaviour in class," Alistair said. "Back here, after school."

  Bran withdrew his hand. He leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles.

  Perhaps it was because of how quickly Alistair had doled out a detention that the other students kept their eyes forward. Whatever the reason, it was good they weren't looking his way because the ancient Scottish warrior who had claimed a hundred heads for Morrigan was completely unhidden upon his face.

  I wanted to touch his arm to calm him but that would just be another excuse for Alistair. I didn't want to risk escalating the situation. While I didn't think they would easily dispense with the pretense of normalcy to pummel each other right there, I wasn't positive. They may not be able to die but there were plenty of fragile teenagers in the room that could. I kept my hands to myself.

  As we got up to leave, Alistair called my name. "Lucina, I would like to speak to you about the homework assignments you missed. Please stay behind for a moment."

  Bran leaned in close to whisper, "I'll be right outside the door. If he touches you, I'll be testing his immortality." I squeezed his hand before allowing him to leave.

  The other students were gone. I still stood by my desk—Alistair at his—as we looked at each other. He seemed surprisingly uncertain, as if he were expecting a scolding. I did my best to remain within the confines of the pretense of our current situation. I said, "Bran has already shared the assignments..."

  "You know that isn't what this is about," he countered before bowing his head as if ashamed to confess it. He walked around his desk and took several steps towards me. His blue-green eyes locked onto mine just as they had when we stood amongst the ruins of my home. A memory of a vow made in a dank tunnel also tugged at my consciousness. He sighed. "Lucina, I have been trying to help you."

  "I know," I said without taking my eyes from his.

  His brow furrowed. He stopped as he appeared to consider something. "You are the one who begged me to help," he said. "You pleaded with me to help you get him out of your existence for good. How could I ever have denied my sweet one?"

  "I am not your sweet one and I also begged you to give up." I hadn't meant to say anything but it had come out like a reflex. While I felt mildly embarrassed to have it out, I also knew it was true. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

  His Adam's apple bobbed. After a moment, he closed his eyes. His jaw flexed. When it finally relaxed, he opened his eyes to look at me again. There would be no looking away. The dancing blue-green depths would not release me. "Have you at least tried to remember more?" He asked.

  "No."

  I could not look away. The bell for first period rang but we both remained where we were, looking at each other.

  "There is always more than one side to a story," he said, more gruffly this time. "You no doubt know Bran's. I just want you to remember yours."

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Alistair, why does it really matter? It won't change anything. I've made up my mind. I've chosen to stay with Bran this time."

  He blinked as his mouth slackened. "Lucina, I don't know what he has told you or what you think you know. I am not asking you to believe anyone except yourself, but you were running from Bran for many centuries before I ever met you. You need to ask yourself why you were running. You need to remember. When you do, and if you still want my help, I am here."

  The sounds in the hall had died down but I didn't move.

  Alistair turned away. He walked back to his desk and began to write on a pad of paper. He ripped off the sheet and held it out. "A late note for your next class," he said. "You may go." He did not look back at me.

  I walked from the room, snatching the note from his hand as I passed him.

  Was this the type of brainwashing Bran had feared from Alistair? He hadn't said Bran was evil or retold any horrible stories about Bran's past. He had been masterful and subtle. He had simply tried to nurture the seed of doubt.

  I took Bran's hand with weak fingers. He grilled me about the conversation as he walked me to biology. No matter how detailed my retelling of what little had happened, he did not relax.

  My mind was analyzing ever word Alistair had said along with everything that had been said or done since Bran entered my current life: Bran's own admission that I had run, Michael's haunted look and later sequestration after touching the stone, Alistair's refusal to tell me anything in favour of me remembering on my own. Something wasn't right. I needed to talk to Michael.

  I was bitterly unsurprised that he was still absent. The day before, I had put together a care basket of medicine, teas, and some DVDs for him but he refused to open the door even for that. Maria was now sitting alone at one of the lab tables. I handed the late note to Mrs. Marshall and walked over to join her. She seemed surprised by my seat choice.

  "Feeling better?" I whispered as I opened my notebook.

  As her shock waned, she turned to stare at the cover of our text book. It wasn't that interesting, an underexposed black and white photo of the ocean.

  "Michael told me you aren't together anymore," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

  "It's not your fault," she said with a shrug. "Well, not directly. I just couldn't compete."

  I did not like her assessment of the end of their relationship. If Michael had suddenly discovered some infatuation with me, he would soon learn he couldn't compete with Bran. No one could. I gripped the edge of my notebook as I realized why he had been so opposed to the truth about Bran and it had little to do with his dogmatic skepticism.

  "Life should not be this complicated," I groaned as I rubbed my face with my palms.

  Maria gave a quiet snort. "That's high school."

  No, that was having a convoluted past with an immortal while juggling a mundane life at the same time. I chose not to enlighten her.

  At lunch, Bran watched as I picked at a plate of fries. He didn't seem concerned with keeping up the appearance of an appetite ever since I learned the truth about him. At least, he never did in the school cafeteria. I stared down at the soggy, stringy mass. I didn't blame him.

  "I'll pick you up at 6:30 on prom night," he said.

  I blinked up at him and considered. I must have been insane because it was going to prom that felt like the most surreal thing happening in my life. If I ever won the lottery, I would spend every cent on endless amounts of therapy.

  "Better make it seven," I said when I finally computed what he had said. "I really want to look perfect for you and that will take time."

  He laughed. "Go as you are and you're perfect."

  I chucked a fry at him. "Liar."

  He blocked the assault easily with his palm. "Think what you like but a dress isn't going to change how attracted I am to you."

  I shot him a sly smile. "You highly underestimate the power
of this particular dress."

  He smiled back.

  I stared down at my fries. One good thing about being immortal was not having to eat. I thought of Graham and shuddered.

  "You alright?" Bran asked.

  "Just thinking about your creepy companions." I pushed the plate away. Even if I had been a glutton, the thought of those three would have ruined my appetite.

  "Graham, Connor, and James?" He asked with a raised brow.

  I nodded. "Why do they even have to be around anyway? I seriously don't think Alistair is going to whisk me off into the night or anything so ridiculous."

  He looked over to a table in the corner where a small crowd had begun to gather. I turned but it was just Ben trying to stick as many fries as he could up his nose to the raucous encouragement of his peers. Bran shook his head before returning to our conversation. "They do other things for me too," he said.

  I raised a brow. "Like?"

  "I ask them to look out for you when I can't," he said with a shrug.

  The blood drained from my face. "So you mean that the creepy stooges have been following me around, all the time?" I felt so much less safe with that knowledge. Being followed home once from practice was bad enough.

  "Well, yes," he confirmed.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shot him a scowl. "And do I get any say in this? Those guys creep me out."

  He looked me right in the eyes but his perfection wasn't going to work this time. I refused to back down. I kept my scowl strong. He insisted, "They're working for me. They would never do anything to you."

  "And what about Riley? Does Connor have a taste for dog too?" I shot at him. He had nerve expecting me to be happy being stalked by the terrifying triplets.

  "I told you I dealt with that," he said reaching for my abandoned fries. "They won't touch Riley." He stuffed a large handful into his mouth and chewed slowly.

  One hundred undefeated warriors my butt. He had never faced a determined woman. "I trust you, Bran. The crap pack is another story."

  He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Fine," he said around his food. He swallowed the mouthful before locking his eyes with mine again. "But, just once, could you try to see how hard it has been for me and how much I have been through to get this far?"

  I looked away and then down at my hands. He hand a point. I was always making demands to get my way. Our conversation about Scotland and the fact I had refused to answer him, let alone with the answer he wanted, all pulled at me. My shoulders fell but I couldn't deliberately hurt him. "Send Scary, Low, and Surly over then. But they are not coming inside. My mother would call the cops on them."

  He smiled. "She's never noticed them before."

  I shuddered. "And now I'll never be able to sleep again."