I stared at him, pouting, before I groaned in agreement.
“You don’t need to worry. I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, smiling, and then his voice suddenly softened. “What happened when you were by the sink? Are you all right?” He took my hands in his. “I didn’t think you’d be able to fire up if you didn’t remember how to do it.”
I widened my eyes in shock. “You knew I could do this? What the hell was it? My hands were on friggin’ fire, Tris!”
“Yes, hmm, this is a long story . . . and kind of complicated. I was hoping you’d remember things before any ‘fire’ happened, but listen, don’t freak out, okay? I’ll explain everything to you later when I get back. This sometimes happens when you’re angry.”
“For real? This happens every time I get mad?”
“Yeah. Or when things get, erm . . . too heated . . . with kissing and stuff, if you know what I mean . . .” He trailed off, a faint blush tinting his adorable cheeks.
“Shut. Up. You’re joking!” I exclaimed.
He gave me a sheepish smile, but his gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m really not. You literally fire up when you’re too excited. I can prove it to you later, if you want.”
I had no reply to that. I was too busy blushing like crazy.
“Fire isn’t the only thing you can do. We have to have a long talk about magic in your life, when I come back,” he added.
“Magic? Are you serious?”
“Huh, guys? He-llo-oo? What’s going on in there?” Alicia bellowed from the living room.
Tristan straightened up and patted his T-shirt, arranging his face in a stern expression. “I have to walk her back now, Joey. It will be dark soon. Wait for me, okay?” he said, leaving the bedroom.
“Oh, hell no! I’m coming too,” I shouted after him.
If that girl thought she could put her claws all over him, she’d better think twice. I wasn’t going to leave him all by himself with the likes of her.
If he was going, I was going with him!
Chapter Seventeen
Haunted
THE WALK DOWN the trail would have been a very lovely end-of-afternoon stroll if weren’t for the presence of that obnoxious little home-wrecker, who kept hanging on to Tristan’s arm like a leech the entire time. I was silently fuming in righteous jealousy at his other side.
She also tried to strike up a conversation with him every five seconds, but Tristan kept his answers to monosyllables, while still trying his best not to sound rude. I was deeply relieved when we finally left Alicia at her cabin’s front door. I had to yank her bony, greedy fingers away from Tristan’s arm so she’d let him go, though.
We were about to turn round and head back to our cabin, when I remembered my initial plan to question that Blaine guy, but Tristan was reluctant to go and see him.
“I don’t know, Joe. It will be dark very soon. We should head back now,” he immediately argued when I reminded him of my request.
“Well, it wasn’t a problem to go out a minute ago when you had to escort Miss Scaredy Pants over there, but all of a sudden it’s a big deal to stay a little bit longer for me?” I sniffed indignantly. “I see how it is.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re being childish, Joey.”
“Come on, Tristan. We’re already here at the cabins! It will only take a few more minutes of your time to find Simon’s and speak with him,” I insisted. I was dying to get my memories back and to know more about these fire abilities I had. And Simon could be the key to unlock those memories. I had to talk to this guy.
“We don’t even know which cabin he’s staying in,” he pointed out.
“We can find out. Isn’t that big hotel building where I woke up right over there? There must be a reception desk where we can ask.”
“Yeah, that’s the camp’s main house.” He nodded, looking over at the building.
“Come on, don’t you want me to get my memories back?” I asked eagerly.
He let out a deep sigh. “Okay, we can ask.”
It wasn’t really that hard to coax the information we wanted out of the receptionist, let me tell you. The girl handed over Simon’s cabin number along with a little map. I couldn’t help but notice her phone number swiftly scribbled at the bottom.
Simon’s cabin wasn’t very far from the main house – about the same distance as Alicia’s, if I had to hazard a guess. We were about to knock on the door when a tall, skinny guy with dark hair dyed blue at the tips walked out, bumping awkwardly against me.
“Oh, hello, there. Sorry, didn’t see you coming,” he apologized, eyeing Tristan with a nervous glance.
“Hello, Blaine. We thought we should come over so you can talk to Joey about whatever you wanted to discuss.”
“Oh. I-I was actually heading to the main house for dinner, you know? Before it gets too dark. Maybe we can talk some other time . . .”
Tristan crossed his arms, a deep frown marking his face. He did not look pleased with that answer.
“Or maybe we can do it now. Dinner can wait, I guess. Your thing is more important,” Blaine grumbled under his breath. “It’s not like it’s incredibly dangerous around this place after dark, anyway . . .” He motioned for us to follow him inside his cabin. “My room-mates have already left for the main house. We can talk in private; we’re alone in here.”
“I guess we could come back another time . . .” I whispered to Tristan.
“You were the one insisting we come here in the first place. I don’t care if he’s scared of the dark. We’re going to talk. Now,” he said, and stomped inside.
Simon’s cabin was very modest compared to the one I was sharing with Tristan, and significantly smaller as well.
I sensed Tristan’s anger wasn’t aimed at me. I’d noticed his eyes hardening every time Blaine was mentioned in a conversation. Why was Tristan so pissed at this guy, anyway?
Then a memory of a dark lake drifted back to me: Blaine was standing still on a gray shore, facing me. I was in the lake, drowning, and he just stood there, unmoving, watching me with wide, scared eyes. I shouted for help and was angry . . . so very angry . . . that he did nothing . . .
“Hey. You look like you’re about to faint. Are you okay?” Blaine asked, and I blinked, startled, realizing I was already inside the cabin, standing next to Tristan.
I swayed a little as I returned to the present, images of the lake swiftly disappearing into the recesses of my mind.
“Y-yes, I’m fine,” I mumbled.
Tristan gave me a concerned look.
“Look, I know you don’t want to miss your dinner, so we’ll try to be really quick, all right? Tristan told me you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing urgent, though. It’s about that thing you asked me to look up, about that lost relative of yours that might be in the Top League?”
Since I had no idea what he was talking about, I just nodded and went along with it. I hoped Tristan and I had a close enough relationship that he’d know what was going on in my life, and could figure things out on my behalf.
“What did you find out?” Tristan asked.
Simon sat down on a bed nearby and continued. “So, I rang my brother Cillian to ask. It wasn’t easy getting him to talk about the Top League. Like I said before, he’s very secretive about his job. And I never call him, like, ever. So that made him even more suspicious and closed off . . . But in the end, I played the guilt card, like you suggested, Joe, and it kinda worked!”
He looked expectantly at me, hoping for an “atta boy”, or something, but I just blinked back at him in complete ignorance as to what he was talking about.
He cleared his throat, mildly disappointed by my reaction, but continued with his story. “So, anyway, it turns out there was an old member in the Top League with the surname Gray, called Jonathan. My brother remembered hearing the name mentioned once at the headmaster’s. From what I could squeeze out of Cillian, this guy quit the League a lon
g time ago, like, twenty years or so. Cillian said they tend to keep track of all members – old, new, attending or not – but this dude went a hundred per cent off the grid. He disappeared completely: nobody ever heard from him after he left. That was why my brother recalled the guy: it’s quite hard to disappear the way he did. And that’s it, that’s all I could find out.”
“Hey, that’s my fa—” I was about to mention the coincidence of this Top League dude having the exact same name as my father, but Tristan quickly cut in.
“Okay, Blaine, thanks.”
I frowned at him, upset that he had been so rude interrupting me, but his eyes flicked quickly to me, flaring in alarm and silently warning me to be quiet. Hey, message received. I clamped my mouth shut immediately.
“We’ve been trying to locate this long-lost relative of Joey’s for a while now, a great-great-uncle of her cousin,” Tristan continued, but I could see the lie in his eyes. Why would he lie about this? “I don’t think this guy has anything to do with it, though – the relative’s name isn’t Jonathan. But, hey, it was worth a shot, eh? We knew it was a stretch. But thanks anyway, Blaine.”
Why was Tristan acting so strangely? Why was he lying to Simon? And what was this Top League they were talking about? Boy, I’d never wanted my memories back so badly as I did right now!
A memory flared in my head again: I was very little and I was crying in my crib. Something had spooked me and I felt so scared. A man walked into the dark room, eyes heavy with sleep and black hair in disarray. “Hey, baby girl. Why are you crying?” he asked tiredly, leaning over the crib. “Come on, now, you don’t wanna wake your mommy with all that wailing, do ya?” He picked me up and cradled me in his arms, trying to make me go back to sleep, but I was still scared and kept crying. “Hey, want to see something pretty?” he murmured softly, trying to bribe me into silence. He waved his fingers in front of my face and my weeping subdued into soft sobs, until tiny sparks sprouted from his hand and a small flame appeared, dancing on his fingertips. “Look! Look, how pretty is the dancing flame?” he cooed at me. “Makes you want to stop crying, doesn’t it, chubby cheeks?” I immediately stopped sobbing, enchanted by the fire, and giggled, reaching out my hands to grab the flame. “Look at that. My fire doesn’t hurt you.” It was the last thing I remembered him saying before Simon’s voice jolted me awake.
“You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“W-what?” I stammered, confused. “A ghost?”
Another memory lodged itself back – forcefully, this time, like a punch in the head. I felt as if someone had grabbed me and plunged me under cold water, goosebumps rising all over my skin . . .
It was night-time, and Tristan was standing on the grass. He was looking pleadingly at me. I was angry so I punched him, but my hand passed right through his chest, as if he was made of thin air.
“Joey, please, I’m so sorry . . . I was going to tell you. I lied so you wouldn’t be scared of me . . .”
“Oh, God, it can’t be true,” I mumbled to myself. Was he . . . a ghost? How was that possible? “I remember . . . m-my hand passed right through his chest.” I gasped and swayed a little, still immersed in my memories.
“What? You mean you’ve actually seen a ghost?” Simon asked, oblivious to my mental flashback. “That’s nonsense. Everybody knows we can only contact spirits in séances or through Ouija boards. Are you honestly saying you’ve just seen one?”
“I could see . . . it felt so real. My hand . . . it passed right through . . .” I whispered, my eyes glazed and my fingers extending to touch Tristan’s chest, as if I was still in a dream state.
“Joey, calm down. This is just your memories flaring back.” Tristan’s soothing voice washed over me, making me slowly detach from my memories.
“G-ghosts are real . . .” I mumbled dizzily.
“Pft, yeah, right!” Simon scoffed. “I bet you’re making this up. You’re so full of it. The fantastical tales of Joe Gray. You keep fabricating these crazy rumors just to make yourself look important. I bet you don’t even believe in them. I bet you don’t even think ghosts exist!”
“Oh, they’re real, all right,” Tristan said.
“Oh, now you can see them, too?” Simon jeered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Trust me, pal. I’ve seen more ghosts than you’ll ever be able to see in all the séances of your life.” Tristan’s voice had an eerie quality and was filled with so much vehemence that it made Simon’s certainty falter.
“Y-you’re just t-trying to scare me . . . so you can make fun of me.”
Tristan gave him a cold shrug. “It’s the truth.”
“I-I d-don’t believe you.” The ceiling light fuzzed and sparked, almost going out. We all looked up, startled. “Are you doing this? Did you plan this to scare me?” Simon whimpered, looking around fearfully.
“We’re not doing anything,” Tristan stated, trying to calm everybody in the room. He wrapped an arm around me protectively.
The walls of the cabin started to tremble, making a few picture frames shake. The light blinked on and off again, and the temperature in the air decreased dramatically until it was freezing cold inside the cabin.
“P-please stop it!” Simon shouted, his breath forming warm puffs of condensation in the air. “This isn’t funny, all right? Stop!”
“Simon, we swear we’re not doing this,” Tristan snapped, tightening his hold on me.
“T-Tristan? What’s going on?” I asked, scared, looking around the room for clues. “What’s happening in here?”
“I don’t know. But something is definitely not right.” He had just finished speaking when the objects that had been on the night-stand started to fly around, flung all over the room.
I ducked my head as a hairbrush missile approached my face, while Tristan tried to swerve away from a deodorant can and a flashlight flying in his direction. Simon was crouched on the floor, trying to escape the onslaught of domestic utensils.
“It’s a ghost!” Simon shouted, frightened out of his mind.
“A very angry one,” Tristan hissed, as a pack of batteries hit him squarely on the forehead.
“An angry ghost? Like a poltergeist? Why is it angry with us?” I shouted over the noise of clunking objects smashing against the walls.
“I don’t know.” Tristan turned to look at me.
“What are we going to do?” I asked in panic, as the windows started to fog and crack from the cold air. The light bulb finally gave up and burst in hot shards over our heads, leaving us in complete darkness.
“Don’t be scared. I won’t ever let any ghost hurt you,” Tristan promised me, grabbing my hand. “We need to get the hell outta here. Now!” he commanded, pushing his way towards the front door without a care for the objects that were still flying around us.
He made a quick stop close to where Simon was, crouched on the floor with his hands over his head, and pulled him up. He grabbed Simon’s arm in a tight grip.
“Simon, listen up. You’re coming with us. I don’t want you doing anything stupid like running off into the woods like a crazy lunatic, okay? The last thing we need now is for you to get lost in the dark. Come on!”
He pulled Simon’s arm sharply and dragged him outside, taking long purposeful strides, while I held fast to his hand on his other side.
Chapter Eighteen
Perks of a Husband
“DON’T WORRY, NOTHING bad is going to happen,” Tristan said, as we hurried down the graveled road towards the main house. “If you count out the huff and puff and the occasional flying toothbrush, it seemed there was nothing more that ghost could do to us, anyway.”
The sun had already set, and walking on a deserted trail in the dark, surrounded by a very ominous forest, wasn’t exactly calming for my nerves, especially after the scare in Simon’s cabin. Every rustle of leaves made me jump nervously, but nothing seemed to have followed us, and whatever it was that had attacked us, it looked like it had stayed beh
ind in the cabin.
“How do you know what it can or can’t do to us?” Simon asked, wheezing as he tried to keep up with Tristan’s long strides.
“I know a thing or two about ghosts.”
I took a sideways peek at him, understanding his cryptic answer. Of course he knew a thing or two about ghosts: he was one! I knew I should be scared – the last memory I had of him was of my hands passing right through his chest – but something in my gut told me I didn’t need to worry. I knew I could trust him completely; that certainty was etched in every fiber of my being. I may not have remembered much of our story yet, but I knew the trust I had in him. Tristan would never hurt me, not in a million years.
“Where did you learn all this stuff about ghosts, anyway?” Simon asked, stumbling as he looked anxiously over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter how I know, I just know,” Tristan replied curtly.
“You can let go of me now. I can walk by myself,” Simon snapped, pulling his arm away, but Tristan’s grip tightened, not letting him go.
“I don’t think so. I’m not in the mood to play tag in the middle of these woods to save your sorry ass.” Tristan pulled him back with a sharp tug.
“Who says I’m going to run into the woods? I’m not stupid!”
“But you are scared. People do stupid things when they’re scared.”
“Who’s asking you to rescue me, anyway? Just leave me the hell alone!” Simon protested again, his pride wounded.
Tristan stopped abruptly and turned to face Simon straight on. “Listen closely, Blaine, cos I’m not gonna say this again. I’m not letting go so you can run away in panic. If you run off, I will have to go after you. Even though I don’t want to, I’ll have to. Wanna know why? Because I don’t leave people behind. I help people when they need it, even if I don’t like it. Because that’s the right thing to do. So I’m not letting you go. Period. Suck it up and stop delaying us. Let’s go!” He glared hard at Simon for a second, before turning round and continuing along the trail.