A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (18 page)

Is the N
ø
kken the worse thing in the forest? Or is it just the tip of the iceberg in terms of the monsters that are imprisoned within those green depths? Green George's riddle resounds in my head,
In body I am king of the jungle, my mind is human through and through, I can kill you instantly with the slightest prick of my tail, what am I?
I don't even want to think about a creature that can kill with only a prick of its tail. If I do my imagination will veer off to frightening places and I won't sleep a wink tonight.

I momentarily consider giving Sam another call to fill him in on what's happened. But then I remember how evasive he was with me the last time, thanking me for the message but not giving me a single straight answer. Two can play at that game, I think, deciding to keep my second encounter with Green George to myself.

Clearly Sam already knows all about what's going on in the forest, he doesn't need me to reinforce the knowledge. If the creatures can't get out, and as Ingrid said on Monday night, no one from the town ever really goes there, then there isn't too much to worry about, is there?

My thoughts are cut short when a tinkering ring emanates from my bedside drawer as I enter my bedroom wrapped in one of Gran's plush towels. Somebody's calling me. It's a good thing I didn't bring the phone to school today or it would have gotten destroyed after my little escapade in the swamp.

“
Hello,” I answer, noting Frank's name on the screen.

“
Flo, hey, I'm not interrupting you from anything am I?” he asks, his voice is still strained despite our hugging session during P.E today.

“
N-no I'm just out of the shower, what did you w-w-want to talk about?”

There's silence on the other end of the line, so I ask, “Frank are you still there...hello?”

He clears his throat. “I'm still here, sorry, I got a little sidetracked by your mention of the shower.”

I suck in a breath. “Oh.”

Then out of nowhere, he comments, “That was nice today. More than nice. It was – good,
really
good. Your skin honey, God, I'll never get tired of the feel of it.”

Little pleasurable pin pricks of sensation rush through me at his reminder, not to mention the realisation that he must have been thinking about it quite a bit. It gives me a weird sort of satisfaction to know I've been on his mind, which is selfish considering how I've treated him the last few days.

He clears his throat again, this time it sounds like he's a little embarrassed for having gotten carried away telling me how much he likes my skin. I mean, even
I'm
going red in the face and I wasn't even the one who said it.

“
Listen,” Frank says, “I'm actually calling for Hayley. She's in a bit of a bad way at the moment. She just got news that one of her oldest friends who lives back in the city was killed. I'm going with her and John in the morning to visit the daughter. Hayley wanted me to ask if you'd come along too.”

“
That sounds awful Frank, but w-why would she want me to come?” I question, understanding now why his voice sounded strained before. What terrible news to get.

“
The woman's daughter, well, you see she kind of lost it after finding out her mother was killed. She and her mum were pretty close and she's supposedly having some kind of a manic break. Hayley thought it would be good if you could talk to the daughter, maybe have a look at her aura and see if there's anything you can do to help. I told her it was too soon, since you only just did that reading last night, but she wanted me to ask anyway. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot Florence.”

His words come out rushed, like he's worried about pushing me too hard when I don't really know everything about my ability yet. Hayley has never been anything other than nice to me and I really want to help her out with this, so I reply, “Don't worry about it Frank, I'll come. I'll do whatever I can to help the girl.”

He breathes heavily. “Thank you, it'll mean the world to Hayley. We're leaving early in the morning, so we'll be outside your place around eight-fifteen. Do you think you can be ready then?”

“
Sure,” I reply, thinking it should be okay since I've hardly ever seen my dad up that early, which means he won't be around to catch me going somewhere with Frank yet again. I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't seem to say no to this boy. It seems that since we broke up we're spending even more time together than we did beforehand.

We say our goodbyes and I quietly sneak downstairs to put my clothes, shoes and emptied out school bag in the washing machine. The living room door is shut tight and the television is still blaring, so it's easy enough for me to go unnoticed by Dad and Sal. I grab a glass of orange juice to bring back to my room, noticing that somebody has already eaten half the food I bought yesterday.

I'm guessing it was Sal. Dad never has much of an appetite and he's always been skinny as a whip. It makes me wonder where I got my love of food and more well endowed figure from. My mother must have been a curvy woman. Dad has never shown me a single picture of her, but I have this sneaking suspicion that he has some kept secreted away somewhere. It's not exactly a very normal thing to do, but my dad is far from normal. Perhaps he knows I'd enjoy seeing the pictures and that's why he keeps them from me. Similar to how he didn't even tell me about Gran's funeral.

Back in my room I spread my wet books out on the hot radiator to dry them off. I remember how Lia said that Caroline was sick today, so I send her a quick text message.

Heard about ur stomach bug, hope u feel better soon. Flo
.

A minute later I get a reply.

Thank u! At least I got 2 spend the day in bed;-) Any drama @ school?

The usual. Ingrid was a bitch 2 me. I called her one. She wasn't happy.

OMG:-O I can't believe you did that, wish I was der 2 c her face!

It was priceless. I'm sure der'll b repercussions. You can back me up then:-)

You know it. Have a good weekend. See u Monday.

You 2. See u then.

In the morning I put on the nicest thing I own, which is the white baby doll dress I bought downtown a couple weeks back. I pair it with some purple tights, my converse and an old black cardigan. I find Gran's ancient blow dryer and use it to dry my hair, giving it a bit of volume. When I'm finished I decide to leave it down. Not because I'll be spending half the day in a car with Frank. Not. At. All.

As expected, the entire downstairs of the house is trashed again, not a sign left of the bit of tidying up I did. I'm not going to bother trying again, it will only be messed up by the time I get home. I have a quick bowl of cereal standing by the sink. Then I run upstairs to brush my teeth and I hear John's truck pull up outside just as I'm finished. I grab my bag when there's a soft knock on the door, rushing down just in case they knock a second time and somehow wake Dad up.

Opening it I find Frank standing there, looking completely kissable with his tousled half wet hair, clean navy t-shirt, black jacket and black jeans.

“
Morning,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “God, you're always so pretty,” he breathes.

My entire face heats up at his compliment, but I change the subject by saying, “This will be my first time back to Tribane since moving to Chesterport. It's gonna be w-w-weird seeing the place again.”

Frank frowns. “I hope it doesn't bring back too many bad memories for you.”

I shrug and mutter, “I'll be all right.”

In John's truck Hayley is sitting in the front passenger seat, her eyes are tired and red from crying. Her emotions hit me a little hard when I first get in, but it only takes a minute for me to pull away from them enough to make it bearable. She must have been really close to her friend.

John gives me a warm welcome and thanks me for coming. Hayley smiles at me in the overhead mirror, but doesn't say anything. I can see from her aura that she's simply too exhausted, even for polite greetings.

I settle in beside Frank in the back and strap my seat belt on, catching his eyes lingering on the movement of my hands. Then something bizarre happens, I hear words in my head, spoken in Frank's voice,
so soft, wish I could touch her
. I glance at him sharply, rubbing the side of my head, the words echoing through me.

Frank buckles his seat belt and then shoves his hands under his thighs, as though to keep them to himself. Did I just hear his thoughts? That's exactly what it sounded like. I know Frank and the other boys can communicate telepathically, but this, if it's real, was completely different. Words somehow seeped involuntarily from his head into mine. Private words that had no business going anywhere near me. I prick my ears to see if I can pick up on anything else, but nothing happens.

“
Did you say something just a second ago?” I ask, fretting that his answer will confirm my worries.

He frowns and confirms them. “No, why?”

“
No reason,” I reply, with a frown of my own.

Things just seem to keep getting more and more
interesting
for me these days.

There's no sound but the low murmur of the radio. About an hour into our quiet journey, Hayley speaks up, her eyes meeting mine in the overhead mirror.

“
There's something you need to know about the girl you're going to meet today Flo,” she says, wringing her hands ever so slightly. Worry lines mark her brow.

“
Yes?” I say softly.

She maintains eye contact with me as she explains, “My friend who died, Noreen, she was a witch. Her daughter Rita is one too. But you have to understand that they aren't the kind of witches you've experienced before. Think of them as white witches, they only practice good magic, nothing harmful.”

I experience a small intake of breath when Hayley mentions that her friend was a witch. That her daughter, Rita, the girl I'm going to try and heal today is one also. “Okay, if you know these w-witches then I'm sure they're nothing like Diana.”

Hayley nods and continues, “Rita is very talented, much more so than her mother ever was when she was alive. You'll have to be very careful when dealing with her. I spent a lot of time with Rita when she was growing up, she's got huge untapped power in her. She once caused a pot to explode when it was boiling on the stove because her mother wasn't paying attention to what she was telling her,” Hayley pauses to give a tender, grief filled laugh. “Noreen should have had her guts for garters for that, but all she did was tell Rita to go outside and try the same trick with something that wouldn't destroy their kitchen. She was always like that, encouraging Rita to learn how to use her magic, no matter how bizarre the outcome.”

“
Sounds like she was a great m-mother.” I say.

Hayley pulls a tissue from the box in the glove compartment and dabs at her eyes. “She really was,” her face is faraway, her thoughts drifting through fond memories I imagine.

When we get to the city it's around eleven o'clock. Passing by the familiar old buildings and modern skyscrapers makes my heart give a small thud. Something like reluctant homecoming burns in my chest. We drive through the lower class district, close to where I used to live with Dad. I can imagine the old apartment now, lying vacant and ridden with filth. I close my eyes and swallow the hard lump that's settled in my throat.

“
We'll wait until after we've gone to see the girl to get lunch,” says John, putting a reassuring hand on Hayley's knee. She leans in and rests her head on his shoulder as he drives. Warmth glows in both of their auras. Their love for one another gets projected to me in a vibrant sea of scarlet and crimson. I envy their connection, their comfort in each other, in the small touches they use to show how they feel.

I wonder if I could ever be that comfortable with anyone. With Frank. He's sitting beside me quietly, it almost seems like he's brooding. I don't blame him. If I had to deal with a head case like me I'd be broody too.

John turns the truck into a street lined with red brick houses, working class houses, but decent working class, not under-class like where I used to live. It's the kind of place where people do the best they can with what little they have. They don't self-destruct and graffiti up every blank surface they can find. That was my old apartment block. You'd be lucky to spot a single square foot of wall that wasn't scribbled all over in that place.

Once parked, we get out and Hayley leads the way into the garden of one of the houses where there's a huge, state of the art mobile home in the front garden. She doesn't go to the door of the house to knock, but to the mobile home. Tap, tap, tap, her knuckles rap against the dark cream metal.