“She’s been good to me.”
“That’s good.” Julia wished she wasn’t braless and in bed. She already felt awkward. “Rosa told me about Malachi.”
He made a noise that didn’t seem to mean anything, and Julia added, “About what happened when he was in high school.”
Cayne turned to face her, and Julia diverted her gaze. “So that’s what’s had you in knots,” he said.
“What?”
“You’ve acted strange all night. I thought I had upset you.”
“No, not at all.”
He seemed to be waiting for something, and when she didn’t offer it, he asked, “Is it still on your mind?”
Julia closed her eyes. “Yeah.” She heard Cayne shift, and she opened her right eye. He had turned back to the window.
“You’re looking for my demon.”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “So am I.”
Rosa and her son must have gone to bed, because the silence in the house was absolute. Julia held her breath, afraid that she would break it.
“I feel it all the time,” Cayne said, “like a second skin under my first. It writhes when I’m angry. Or when you’re in danger.” He smiled at that. “It’s like…something I see in the corner of my eye. No matter how often I turn, it’s just out of sight. But it’s always there.” She didn’t say anything, and he tacked on, “Does that make sense?”
Julia wasn’t sure. And, for some reason, she blurted the first thing that came to her. “Have you ever killed anyone?” She gasped, and her hand smacked her mouth.
Cayne didn’t seem bothered by the question. “You were there.”
She remembered the abusive man in the park and the motorcyclist, but shook her head. “I mean other times.”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes.”
“Would you tell me about it?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Julia had the feeling his question was about more than the times he had killed. And she did want to know. She told him so.
“A few, that I can remember. All within the range of what most people would consider justified.”
Julia wasn’t so sure. His face was troubled again, remembering. He was leaving something out.
“But there’s a long period of time I can’t remember,” he said. “From what I’ve gathered, I think… a lot of it is unpleasant.”
Julia wanted to ask what exactly he had ‘gathered’, but she decided not to press. She already felt terrible, like she was forcing him to prove himself. Maybe she was. But she had one more question, and she was determined to ask it. “Will you tell me what it feels like?”
“Killing?” She nodded. “It doesn’t feel like anything.”
Said so bluntly and so casually that Julia almost didn’t believe him. But then he looked at her, and she saw the truth in his eyes. To Cayne, death and life were just different sides of the same coin. She didn’t think he enjoyed it, but when the toss landed the right way, he wouldn’t hesitate.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
With me, his voice added.
“Yes.”
Cayne stared at her, searching her face for something. When he found it, he nodded and turned back to the window. But Julia wanted to show him how okay with it she was.
“Come to bed.”
Cayne’s eyes became saucers as his head jerked up. Julia’s face was on fire, but she didn’t care. “Just lay on top of the covers until I fall asleep,” she amended. “Please?”
Cayne stared. With a so not steady hand, she rubbed the bare spot beside her. After several heartbeats, he complied.
He sat with his back facing her, and she said, “Lie down.”
He did, stiffly. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his flat stomach. Julia gathered all her courage and snuggled into his side. It was warm.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” she whispered.
Cayne’s fingers found her hair, and with his other arm he pulled her closer. “No.”
*
“I don’t bite,” Rosa laughed.
Julia grinned weakly as she eased herself onto a purple cushion. She was so not prepared for this.
Cayne had woken her just before noon with a joke about beauty sleep, a little awkward I-shared-a-bed-with-you-and-played-with-your-hair-ness, and a message from Rosa to spend the next four hours clearing her mind. Then he had disappeared, leaving a light breakfast and a confused Julia behind. He came back with an afternoon snack, and then an hour later when it was time for her to visit the seer. Julia had told him she wasn’t ready. She had spent the entire day in knots. And she had barely seen him!
“My mind’s like a dump,” she pleaded.
“Ordinarily I’d agree. But you’re ready.”
“Funny. And no I’m not.”
“She thinks you are.”
Cayne smiled softly when he left her by the back room, which was now separated from the rest of the home by a thick, dark curtain. Julia took a moment to steady her wobbling knees and then ducked into shadows and candlelight. Incense was burning in the corner, and she began to feel lightheaded as she worked her way to the small table in the center of the room.
“I hope you slept well last night.” Rosa’s voice was smug.
Julia almost blushed. The seer couldn’t know how she'd fallen asleep, right? “I did.”
Rosa nodded. “Were you able to wipe your mind clean?”
Julia shook her head, embarrassed to admit it.
“Good. That will make it easier.”
“But you said—”
“What I needed to say. All that mumbo jumbo about clearing your mind is nonsense.”
“It is?”
“I can’t help you figure out where your road is leading you if you get rid of the signs, can I?”
Julia wasn’t sure, but she shook her head.
“Now let’s sit down. I want you to cross your legs, close your eyes, and hold your breath.”
“What?”
Rosa shushed her with a hand. “Go on.”
Sighing inside, Julia did as the seer instructed.
“Do not breathe until you have to. When you do, make sure it is steady and slow. Now count backwards from one hundred.”
As Julia counted, she felt Rosa wave something around her face. When she took her first breath she smelled it: incense. It was hot and heavy in her lungs.
Julia began to have trouble somewhere around sixty-three. Everything started to jumble, so sixty-two preceded twenty-seven but followed forty-four. She tried to get back on track, but the numbers kept leaking out of her head.
“Julia, where are you in your counting?”
Rosa’s voice sounded muffled. So did Julia’s when she replied, “I lost count…I think.”
“Where are you?”
“Where…am I?” Julia opened her eyes and saw that she was no longer in the seer’s home. She was somewhere bright—so bright she had to close her eyes. “Rosa!”
“Everything is fine,” the woman cooed. “Just relax and tell me what you see.”
“Light.” Julia squinted at her hands. Thick gray static obscured the corners of her vision, limiting her sight to a hazy circle. She looked down to her legs, and then to the cot upon which she lay. She followed it to the gray floor and was able to pick out the pattern of the carpet. Then her vision expanded. She was in a cramped, white room. It was shaking and swaying so violently she felt dizzy.
There was a window just before her, but a glare obscured whatever was on its other side. She put her head between her knees and tried to swallow the bile that was rising up her throat.
“Julia?”
Rosa’s voice sounded far away. Julia’s heart thrummed harder. Did she really leave the seer’s home? Things like that couldn’t happen. This couldn’t be real. How was she going to—
“Control yourself.”
Julia closed her eyes. The drum drum drum drum drum drum drum drum of the room was a litt
le more tolerable that way.
“I’m in a small room,” she whispered. “It’s shaking. I think it’s moving.”
“Where is this room?”
Julia shook her head. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the window again. There was an easy enough way to find out, but she didn’t trust the floor.
“Julia.”
She took a deep breath and slid off the cot. The floor shook beneath her, and she felt like she was going to fall. “I’m going to the window,” she gasped.
She stumbled several steps, then put her forehead against the glass and looked out. “A train.” She was on a speeding train. It moved so fast she couldn’t tell what was outside. White and green and blue and black and red and yellow and she was going to be sick.
“It’s going too fast,” she moaned as she sank to her knees.
“Julia, listen to me.” Rosa’s voice was clearer now, and very calm. “Slow it down.”
Julia licked her lips. Her mouth tasted like chalk. “What?”
“Think of something calming.”
Julia grasped for something to aid her. She found Cayne’s face and focused on his eyes, deep green pools of calm. She thought about the way he’d looked at her when he squeezed her hand. She thought about how his fingers felt in her hair. She thought about his smile.
Miraculously, her panic abated, and with it the train’s terrible swaying. It still hummed beneath her, but only the way trains were supposed to hum.
Julia opened her eyes. “It slowed down now.”
“Good,” Rosa said. She sounded more distant again. “Now, look out the window.”
Julia did. Her gaze landed on a giant white pillar jutting into the sky. “The Washington Memorial,” she said. As the train continued, she saw other famous landmarks. The Capitol building. The White House. “I’m in Washington.”
“Very good.” Rosa’s voice was a whisper now. “Are you alone in the room?”
Julia nodded. It was tiny. No place for anyone to hide. She checked the small closet and shower, to be safe. No people and no clues. No bags, even.
Having some idea of what she was supposed to do, Julia said, “I’m going to check the train.”
Rosa didn’t respond, which Julia took as an affirmation. She strode to the door and thrust it open.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A warm breeze lifted Julia’s bangs off her forehead. It tickled the tiny hairs on her arms and— Bangs?
She squinted in the bright sunlight as she brought a hand to the crown of her head.
“What the hell?” She jumped at the sound of her voice. It was too high. She rubbed her temples with her hands, then squealed when she saw them. They were too small! Like her arms and legs and the rest of her. “What the…”
She was standing on a familiar white wood porch, surveying a familiar back yard: the Raysons’ backyard. It was a large rectangle framed by colorful flowerbeds that ran along a weather-beaten wood fence. They dead-ended before a row of oaks, one of which had a rope swing. Several boards had been nailed between two trees, creating a crude clubhouse. Billy and his friend Richard were on the other side. They were snickering at something.
Julia tried to remember why she had come outside. She usually avoided Billy. He had never been all that nice, but for about a year, since he turned twelve, he had gone out of his way to torment her.
It had only gotten worse since Julia had her first period. For some reason, Jan had told Billy about it. And what it meant. Julia could’ve died of embarrassment. And Billy? The jerk went snooping in her bathroom, and when he found her girl things he showed them to all the kids on the street.
Julia’s fists clenched. Jan hadn’t believed her when she’d told. She had looked up from making their pimento-cheese sandwiches and—
Lunch. That was it. She was supposed to tell them lunch was ready. Julia considered yelling it across the yard, but she changed her mind when something behind the clubhouse squeaked.
They couldn’t be doing anything too bad. Whenever Richard was around, Billy tended to behave better. But it still might be a good idea to check.
Julia hopped down the stairs and tried to not skip the rest of the way. Julia Pratchet. Mrs. Richard Pratchet. Mrs. Julia Richard Pratchet.
She rounded the corner and both boys’ heads jerked up. Billy had short, dirty blond hair that he didn’t comb, blue eyes that were large and cold, and a crooked nose that took the rest of his face with it. He was taller than Richard, who had soft brown hair that curled when it grew and beautiful green eyes.
They were hovering over a clear plastic box. It was open-side down, and there was a small cat inside. It was mewing mournfully and looked injured.
“What are you doing!” Julia demanded.
Both boys jumped. Billy looked at her angrily. Richard looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Get out of here,” Billy growled.
Julia shook her head. The cat was definitely hurt. Its front right paw seemed broken, and it had blood matting parts of its speckled fur. “I’m gonna tell Ms. Jan.”
Billy’s face hardened. “She won’t believe you.”
“Then I’ll tell your father.” Billy said he wouldn’t believe it either, but Julia didn’t care. “I’ll tell anyway.”
She turned to leave, but like a striking snake Billy grabbed her hand and jerked her to the ground. “You will not.”
“Ow!” His fingers were like a vice on her arm. Julia trembled as he leaned over her. His face was red and angry. “Stop it!”
“Let her go, Rayson.”
“Shut up, Richard!” Billy turned his attention back to Julia. “You ain’t gonna say a word.”
“Let me go!” she pleaded.
Billy didn’t. He put a hand over her mouth and put his knees on her stomach, pushing the wind out of her. He grabbed both of her arms and pinned them above her head.
“Stop it!” Richard was hovering over them. “Let her go!”
Billy turned purple, and Julia thought his head was going to explode. “I told you to shut up!”
“Let her go!”
“Make me.”
Richard tackled Billy, and the force of their impact squashed Julia’s lungs. She wheezed as they struggled. Predictably, Billy got the upper hand. He hit Richard in the stomach, then in the face, then stood and kicked him in the side.
Richard moaned as Billy stalked back to Julia. She tried to get to her feet, but he grabbed her shoulder and threw her back to the ground.
“You bitch,” he yelled, and then his hands were on her shirt.
Julia saw the same bright light behind her eyes. She pushed it out, and the whole backyard became a supernova. She heard Billy scream, and Richard cry out. For a second everything was dark, but when her sight returned, she saw that Billy was on his back, unconscious. So was Richard. The cat was on its side. It wasn’t moving.
Shaking so hard she almost couldn’t move, Julia pulled herself up off the ground and ran into the house.
As she approached the house, Julia somehow knew what she would find. Jan and John would be unconscious, Jan on the kitchen floor and John on the couch in the den. Mr. Jenkins, their next-door neighbor, would be waiting in the kitchen. He would usher Julia up to her room and tell her to hide under the bed. He would call 911. He would tell the police that Billy and Richard had created some sort of bomb. He would tell Julia to never tell anyone what really happened.
Julia shook her head. How did she know that? And what was she doing here, anyway? Wasn’t she supposed to be taking a trip?
Julia opened the back door and remembered. She was supposed to be on a train!
“Julia!” That was Billy, screaming her name.
Julia whirled, shocked, but it wasn’t the Billy she knew. He was taller and wider. He had a shadow on his face. His arms were heavily muscled.
Julia was back to her real age: seventeen. Which meant Billy was nineteen.
Julia stared at him, amazed. He was supposed to be in th
e hospital. He and Richard both. He’d wake up in about two weeks. Richard wouldn’t.
She felt a sharp pain in her heart. She had willed that awesome light away because of what she did to the boy that tried to help her. It had left her empty even then, and she never could forgive herself.
“I’m gonna kill you!” the teenage Billy screamed.
He charged, and she slammed the backdoor. “Help!” she cried, hoping she was right about Mr. Jenkins. She dashed into the kitchen and slid to a stop. It was empty. “Mr. Jenkins! Jan! John!”
Julia heard the back door crash open. Billy swaggered into the kitchen, and she screamed for Mr. Jenkins again. She ran to the den, but Billy dove and grabbed her foot. She landed hard on the wood floor. She kicked back with as much strength as she could, hitting Billy in the face.
He screamed, and she scrambled away, through the small entry hall and up the stairs, with Billy hot on her heels. Julia dove for her door and slammed it shut.
She locked it just as Billy plowed into it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Julia threw her weight against the door and screamed for Rosa and Cayne. The wood groaned under the force of Billy’s blows. A splinter spun past her, then another.
She searched her mind for the secret she had buried that day in the backyard. She needed that wild power now—even if she couldn’t control it.
Past fractured faces of friends and the muted colors of their auras, through pieces of memory and imagination, Julia searched. Deep in the hidden spaces of her mind, wading in the experiences she had buried and the actions she regretted, Julia searched. And there, in the depths of her shame, she saw it: her light, pulsing, calling…
The pounding stopped and the white behind Julia’s eyes disappeared. The loss left a frightening ache in her chest. She had been only moments away from obliterating Billy. Probably the entire house. Cautiously, she rested her head against the door and held her breath. She didn’t hear him.
She turned to survey her room, but was shocked to discover she wasn’t in it. She was standing in a small, square hall that seemed to be made of dark red mud. To her right, the hall was completely dark; she had no idea how far it stretched. To the left, she could see a speck of light, maybe a mile or more away.
Julia shivered. The place was horror-movie creepy. There was a draft, and the air felt wet. She ran her hand along the wall, looking for the door, but it had disappeared.
“Rosa?” she whispered.
Julia heard a small hiss, but she couldn’t make out the words.