Back to You (34 page)

“So Fergus treats you in a… special way?” I suggest.

“Right,” he replies, torment in his eyes. “Why do you think I’m on the east coast right now? No one has ever treated me in a ‘special’ way before. And I hate it.” He sighs and breaks off. “And I wanted to go to college, but I had to come here instead – no offense, it’s not that I don’t like it here. But I wanted to get my qualifications to become a forest ranger. But, anyway…”

I feel annoyed for him, infuriated.

“And usually, the council members, all of them, almost have a heart attack when someone refuses a scholarship or to go to college. But no one cared about me!”

I just stare at Locke, struck by rage. Who do these council members think they are to be making decisions for him?

“I can see that it’s a really upsetting situation… a weird one,” I add, hoping I haven’t offended him. “But they can’t force you to join them if you don’t want to.”

As he looks at me, his eyes seem racked with terror, then he suddenly stiffens, and peers out the window. “The fact is that I have to… My body is changing, Ella May. My organism is like a book that only I can read. And soon it’ll be like a ticking time-bomb, ready to go off at any given moment. Or so I have been led to believe.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s to do with the fact that, according to legend, I’m the descendant of one of the
original thirteen
,” he explains.

“Have you talked to Tyler about this?”

His face darkens and takes on a sad expression, rather than angry. “Yes,” he snaps. “Of course. And a lot of good it did me!”

“No good?”

Seething with rage now, his words are dripping with irony. “Yeah, sure, a great big help!”

“What did he say?” I wrap my arms around my body, but not to protect me from the cold.

He lowers his head, shakes it. I can see his eyes are full of fear. “To hear him speak, you’d think Fergus was the best thing to ever happen to the clan.”

Then he imitates Tyler’s voice.

“Don’t worry about it, Locke…” He grimaces and goes back to speaking in his own voice. “”In a few weeks, if not before… well, he had led me to believe that I’ll be over this silly crisis between adolescence and adulthood. He called it a ‘transitional phase.’ I tried to explain to him that I’d already overcome that phase a long time ago, but he said that he would explain later. But I don’t get what he means. It was pointless talking to Tyler… And there’s other stuff, too, none of it good. When Fergus treats someone in a special way and pays more attention to them, suddenly the chosen one is set to one side. They disappear for a few weeks. But if you go looking for them, they never seem to be at home. And when they return to the clan, they seem like they have become someone else. At first, they’re terrorized, then they become restless, like a caged lion. And if you ask them what happened, they refuse to answer. That’s what always happens. And then the chosen one starts hanging out with Fergus, becomes his best buddy, even if before they couldn’t stand each other. In the end the chosen one joins the rangers and sticks like glue to the group as if they had joined some kind of cult.”

“And what do you make of all this?”

“I have no idea… But I can’t see Dora and Amelia being involved in anything illegal.”

“What else could it be? And why doesn’t the clan council deal with it?”

“My father is part of the council, so is Tyler’s grandfather. And the elders see Fergus as some kind of hero, rather than just a Siberian.”

My eyes are full of confusion; I don’t know which straw to grasp at anymore.

“Who was the last ranger to go through all this?” I finally ask.

“Dora. The same thing happened to her. She wasn’t friends with Fergus at all, let alone with his girlfriend. Then she was gone for a few weeks from the supermarket where she usually works. Fergus had begun hanging around the place where she worked, it was her job to stack the shelves. Then when she came back into the community, it was as if she had become his private property.”

“Dora became… like Fergus?”

“Nah, nothing could change Dora. She’s sweet and kind, she’s like a polar opposite to Fergus. But she never lets him out of her sight now.

“And before this isolation, did she act weird?”

“Yeah, but not as much as the others. Maybe for just one day. Then Fergus came along and took her from her house. Since then, they have lived in the same house, with the blessing of our parents, obviously.”

The story seems almost romantic. A prolonged shiver runs through my body.

“And I don’t know what it all means,” adds Locke hurriedly. He stops to get his breath back. “I can’t imagine what it’s all about, but I feel that there’s something deeper to understand. Dora is my sister and… Fergus looks at me strangely. I’m afraid I’m the next in line. But for what?” Fear makes his voice quiver. “Otherwise, why bring me to the east coast, where Fergus can keep an eye on me? There’s no sense to it otherwise; to be honest, I’m just in the way here, with Scott and Ronald having to look out for me while my family are at work.”

“It’ll all be alright, Locke. And if things get too out of hand, you can always come at stay at the bar. There’s a cot there you can use when you want.” He breaks into a big smile that seems to wash away the dark mood.

“But just imagine Jeff’s unease if Scott found me sleeping in the back room of the bar.” He kicks the wall, frustrated, but laughs.

I laugh along with him, glad to see him out of his funk. But then Fergus arrives with Tyler, and Locke seems to draw inward again.

As Fergus launches into the details of his latest venture up the cliffs, he sees Locke and I exchange glances. He seems to perceive that Locke has confided in me. He starts to quake, almost imperceptibly, then he smiles a wretched smile. He seems beside himself.

“Myco.” I barely move my lips, and instinctively stretch out a protective arm across Locke’s chest.

Tyler shakes his head slightly at me – a vague ‘no’. Fergus keeps staring intently at Locke.

“Now the bomb is in your hands.” Locke suffocates a grim laugh into my arm, and then looks at me. “Don’t worry, when he gets angry, he’s impulsive, but he doesn’t actually do anything.”

Amelia shows up behind Fergus and Tyler, and I tighten my grip on Locke even more defensively. He looks me deep in the eyes. “I can see why Fergus wants me to keep away from you. Tyler’s right, you’re… special. And thanks; it was great to be able to talk to someone about this stuff.”

Fergus and Amelia continue to eye us with hostility; that same look in their eyes just accentuates their resemblance. Tyler is the only one who seems cool, calm and collected. He seems in some way to be holding Fergus back from tearing Locke to shreds.

Locke nibbles nervously on his lower lip, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“I have to go now,” he whimpers.

I hug him. He’s so hot; I fear he might be running a fever. And he’s so huge that, despite being quite a few years younger than me, I feel like a little girl in a grown-up’s embrace.

“Don’t worry, if you let me go, I won’t explode,” he reassures me.

“Ok.”

“Thanks, Ella May, see you around,” he murmurs. Then he turns around and walks out the kitchen door towards the beach. The sky outside is still gray, somewhat lighter now, but the draughts whistling through the cracks of the house tell me that the wind has risen.

Fergus disappears from sight in the garden too, and Tyler is by my side. He cautiously studies my expression, as I melt into the delicious amber of his eyes. He suddenly gives me a big hug and leads me to the sofa while Scott whistles a happy tune as he goes about his business in the kitchen, seemingly unaware of the bomb that almost went off in his own house.

“So what happened?” Tyler cuts to the chase.

“I saw you dive off the cliffs,” I say enthusiastically, trying to cover my nervousness.

“And then?” As he speaks, he pulls a blanket over my shoulders.

“I got to know Locke,” I spurt, “He told me about Fergus, how he doesn’t let him have any friends outside the family. Why doesn’t he want me to go near him?”

Tyler frowns. “Pay no attention to Fergus. He’s not what he seems and he’s not as strict with Locke as the kid makes out.” He brushes it all off. I try to betray no emotion, concentrating on the drip-drip sound of the water splashing from my wet hair onto the wooden floor. Tyler glances rapidly towards the kitchen.

“Want to stay for dinner with us?” he asks politely, changing the subject expertly, as I sense invisible eyes spy on me from the window.

“No, thanks. You know how it is, I have to prepare dinner for Jeff,” I reply distracted. “And I need to get out of these clothes.” I’m lost in my thoughts. Who knows how long they’ve been watching me without me realizing.

“Ok, maybe next time,” he replies, almost relieved. “We’ll have to arrange a barbecue, all together.”

He walks over to the door and opens it for me.

I say goodbye to Scott, my ears perking up to listen for telling footsteps behind me. But I hear nothing, so presume that Tyler hasn’t followed me. But when I look up, I see him by my side.

It is colder now, the icy wind blowing in from the ocean not helping matters. The rain is falling diagonally towards the porch, I dig my hands deep into my pockets to keep them from turning to icicles. I realize that we are not alone.

There are three other figures on the grass, just by the porch. All tall, pale-skinned, with amber eyes just like his.

They freeze, immobile when they see us, all talk coming to a quick halt. I bet by the way they’re looking at me, that I was the subject being discussed.

They keep staring at me; uncomfortable under their gaze, I lower my head. They look like siblings. If it were not for the length of her hair, I wouldn’t even recognize Amelia. She is so beautiful, she looks like a fairy.

At the head of the group is Fergus, laid back, relaxed. I try to swallow down the bile that has risen in my throat. I feel the urge to punch him for what he’s putting Locke through.

He says something in a language I don’t recognize, I guess it must be Siberian.

They all wave hello to me, as they continue to stare.

“Stella, this is Fergus, Dora and Amelia,” says Tyler, breaking the silence. “They’re here from the Rocky Mountains, but they’re originally from Siberia. Guys, this is Stella.”

“The one and only,” comments Dora, as Fergus pulls her towards him, a tight arm around her waist. From what I can tell, this is not the first time they’ve heard my name being mentioned.

“It’s a pleasure to meet your family, Tyler,” I mumble, my voice barely audible.

They all nod at me, I exchange this greeting with a big smile. Not aimed at Fergus, obviously. He doesn’t take his self-assured eyes off me, he seems to find this whole situation amusing, but his mouth betrays no emotion.

I can feel the tension rising within me. How can Tyler treat him so reverently, knowing full well how he persists in tormenting Locke. That poor kid is going through hell. I swallow down a knot in my throat.

Tyler and I continue down the steps, the rain beating down on us as soon as we leave the shelter of the porch. We head to the Jeep parked on the wet gravel. I can’t tear my eyes off their perfect, Oriental faces. Their handsome, proud expressions remain branded on my mind. I’m slipping and sliding all over the place, only Tyler’s warm arm around my waist stops me falling flat on my face.

Under the shelter of the trees, far from Fergus, I start to relax. As we walk, I search my mind for the right words to say to tackle the subject of Locke again, but nothing springs to mind.

He suddenly releases his grip on my arm and speeds up, overtaking me. When he gets to the Jeep, he turns to fix his amber eyes on me.

“Make sure you get some dry clothes on when you get home,” he says. “And don’t worry about Locke. There’s nothing wrong with Fergus Bradford.” Then he turns and races back to the house, as Scott joins us, a massive umbrella sheltering him from the downpour.

I had forgotten to close the passenger side window; the seat is soaked. It doesn’t matter, though. So am I.

Balance

It’s all Fergus
Bradford’s fault. Even my dream tried to tell me. Fergus got to Locke. Whatever happened to the other kids in the clan happened to him too, and it terrified him. He was sucked out of his normal life in Jackson, an end put to his dream of going to college.

“Stella, you can get out if you like,” suggests Scott, looking sidelong at me. I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here transfixed, without realizing it.

I bet he left the kitchen in Dora’s capable hands when he took me home. One thing is certain––I have to speak to Tyler, face-to-face, about all this, it’s the least I can do. After what Locke told me, I feel involved, I can’t leave the poor kid to be tortured by Fergus without batting an eyelid. I’d feel like a heartless monster if I did. I’m not sure if it’s the right move, but I need to warn Tyler about Fergus.

I’m dying to ask him what he thinks about Fergus’s behavior. I know that he defended him earlier on, so I’m guessing that he’s not that bothered by the way he acts. But I don’t see how he can justify him, if he knows what I know. A flash of lucidity, and I realize that Scott is still looking at me sideways; my eyes meet his in silence. In his eyes, I see a myriad of questions dying to be asked, but he seems not to dare open his mouth either.

It’s a slow night at The Pats. Right now, there are only two bar flies; judging by their conversation, they are probably hikers. They say that they know Tyler, that he told them about the bar. I find out that another couple of tourists, a father and son, will be arriving tomorrow after camping out tonight in the forests to the west.

Scott spends a good hour discussing the pros and cons of the hiking paths through the Green Mountains. But the talk goes from debating which is the toughest trail, to recalling their most remarkable anecdotes about hiking.

Scott whispers to me under his breath to go home, and change out of my wet clothes.

“Don’t worry about it, they’re pretty much dry now anyway,” I reply, trying to ignore the hearty laughter coming from the direction of the tourists.

“I’m telling you, it’s true!” exclaims the big guy with the dark brown shaggy hair and beard. “I’d just come down Baker Peak, about two miles north of Lake Griffith, when a huge cougar crossed the road in front of my car. It scared the life out of me!”

“That can’t be right. Cougars have been extinct from the east coast of the Atlantic for years now,” replies the stocky guy with the reddish blond hair that seems out of place alongside his olive skin. His dark face is aged by exposure to the sun and wind. He looks like he hasn’t changed his clothes for a couple of days.

“I’ve seen a cougar up close in the Rocky Mountains, but it was nothing compared to that beast.”

“Impossible. There are no cougars that big, not even in the Canadian Rockies.”

“Really, Ella May, as soon as these guys and the other clients leave, I’m closing up and heading home,” whispers Scott.

“If you want me to go…” I shrug my shoulders at him.

“Come on! You can’t be saying that it was taller than me when it was on all fours!” insists the first tourist.

“I’m telling you, it was! As big as a bear, golden beige, the same color as the border of an old map,” insists the bearded man, as I gather my things ready to get out of there.

The wizened guy laughs heartily, rolling his eyes, slapping his pal on the shoulders. “The stories you tell!”

“See you tomorrow,” I mutter as I make my way out from behind the counter.

“True or not, we’d better let people know. I’ll tell the rangers this evening.”

The robust guy cuts in.

“Tell ‘em that it wasn’t up in the mountains.”

“Just where was it?” asks Scott, confused.

“A few feet from the rangers’ cabin.”

“Well, I’ll tell the guys to keep their eyes open,” says Scott. I wouldn’t swear on it, but I sense a hidden meaning in his words.

“Have you heard anything about giant cougars ‘round here recently? You’ve lived near the Rockies, ever seen anything like that?” continues the bearded guy, looking cautiously at Scott.

“No, but it would be best not to get near them.”

“Hey, pal, I don’t know what you put in your flask, but I’d like a sip of that too!” exclaims his friend, laughing. “What you saw must have been a bear cub,” he adds.

I leave them to their chat and slip out into the cold night air.

I don’t feel like going back to Jeff’s house right now; he won’t be back yet. I don’t want to be tempted to start researching stuff on the internet again, like I did last night; my head wouldn’t let me rest, not even if I fell asleep. But I take the road towards home anyway, cruising along at a leisurely pace, going over in my mind what Locke had told me.

When I get home, I feel the cold in my bones, so I decide to take a long, hot shower. But not even that manages to banish the chill; I dry myself hurriedly with a thick towel and climb into some comfy warm clothes.

I go downstairs, wondering what to make for dinner. Stir-fried chicken, I decide; it would keep me busy for a while. I chop up the peppers, tossing them in the pan with some oil and onions. The phone begins to ring. It could be Scott or Jeff, or even my mother.

It’s Jamie, bursting with excitement. After class today, Bryan called her, inviting her to come to the Rise, the bar he works in. She’s not a hundred percent sure about what to think of Bryan, but she seems eager for me to join her. I chat distractedly with her for a while as I cut the chicken into thin strips, trying to concentrate on not cutting myself.

I suggest she picks me up in her car; she agrees. She has to hang up, she says, to call Tess and invite her along too.

When the chicken and veggies are just about ready, Jeff walks through the front door.

“Stella?” he calls out, from the parlor. He seems relieved to find me there.

The smell of onions frying draws him to the kitchen, his mouth already watering.

“Hi, Jeff.”

The room is full of smoke that the broken stove fan hasn’t managed to suck out. He throws open a window, then goes to the pan to take a sample of my creation. I throw a salad together and prepare the table.

“You’re early,” I say.

“Really?”

“It’s not even eight o’clock. I was expecting you back later.”

“The meeting at the race track was quicker than I expected.”

It’s good to see him beginning to trust my talent – albeit limited – in the kitchen. He even helps himself to a second mouthful.

“This is really good, Ella May! You’re better than your mom. She was sketchy in the kitchen,” he says tenderly, smiling to himself.

To tell the truth, my mother is a disaster in the kitchen, sometimes I had to force myself to shovel down her cooking. I’m surprised – and rather sad – that he still remembers this detail about her.

Jeff is pleased to hear about my trip to Cape Cod. He’s probably relieved that I hung out with Tess and Tyler over the weekend. I wonder if he would approve if he knew that I was planning to go back to Wolfeboro with Vuk. Not that I’m planning on mentioning it, of course.

“Jeff?”

“Yes, honey?” he asks warily. I hate it when he calls me that, it reminds me of my mother.

Do you know a place called Baker Peak or something like that? I think it’s to the north of Lake Griffith,” I as nonchalantly.

“Sure, why?”

“A hiker who knows Tyler said he’d been camping there and that he saw a cougar as big as a grizzly near the rangers’ cabin.”

“Let me guess,” Jeff laughs. “He was on his way home; he hadn’t been eating right, hadn’t had a shower or slept in a real bed for a couple of days, right?”

“Sounds about right,” I agree.

“It’s not a great place to go camping.”

“Oh…” I mumble.

“People go trekking there usually… but anyway, your mom knows more about that area than I do.”

“Maybe I got the name wrong.”

“Maybe. But the giant cougar he saw was most likely a grizzly cub,” he adds, seeming to confirm what the blond hiker thought.

“Enjoy yourself golfing today?”

“Yeah, I had a great time, but it was tough going. I was battling it out with half of Boston’s high-flyers in finance. I’m beat now, lots of walking and talking.”

“Anyone I know there?”

“Yes, actually. Donn Brooks. He taught a few classes at your college, right?”

“Do you know him?”

“Everyone in the finance world knows him, honey!” exclaims Jeff, laughing.

I should have guessed.

Jeff looks at me suspiciously.

“What is it? Do you know him personally, this Donn Brooks?” He seems surprised, wondering why on earth I should be interested in one of Boston’s financial sharks.

“Yeah… I met him a couple of times in the library, and recognized him after he took my classes…”

“I heard about that. I couldn’t believe it when I heard.”

“What’s so unbelievable about it?”

“Donn Brooks is notorious for not doing anything unless it’s to his advantage… or to his bank balance’s advantage. Plus, he’s a little weird,” he adds on a more serious note. He looks at me intently.

“How well do you know him?” I’m getting the third degree, I’ve gotta wriggle out of this.

“Um…quite well.” But before he manages to fire off another question, I say, “Dessert’s ready!” I put the cake on the table along with a bottle of maple syrup.

“Smells good,” says Jeff, sniffing the air.

“Thanks.”

Luckily, we eat in silence, which bothers neither one of us; we’re both used to eating alone. In a certain sense, we’re perfect room-mates.

“I should be going into Boston tonight, if that’s not a problem for you.” I don’t want to ask his permission, that would be setting a precedent, but I prefer to keep him informed of my whereabouts when possible… when there’s nothing to hide.

“Need a ride? Are you going alone?” he asks caringly.

“No, I’m going with Jamie,” I reply, stuffing the last piece of cake into my mouth with an extra drizzle of syrup on it.

“Girls’ night out. Anyway, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to you, the Patriots are playing tonight.” Jeff seems enthusiastic, I’m not sure if it’s about the game or the fact that I’m going out with Jamie. He probably feels a little guilty about my work at the bar which leaves me so little free time to go out. When he finishes his second slice of cake, Jeff clears away the things from the table and I wash the dishes before going upstairs to freshen up for my night out. Jeff, predictable as ever, can’t wait to settle into the sofa for his game.

The phone rings and I almost trip down the stairs in my haste to answer.

There’s only one voice I really want to hear; any other would be a major disappointment. But I also know that if Jason really wanted to speak to me, he’d just materialize in my room.

“Hello?” I almost bark down the receiver.

“Stella, it’s me,” answers Jamie.

“Oh…” I try to hide my disappointment. “Hi, are you ready?” I try to come back down off the clouds.

“I’m on my way,” Jamie says, happy and bubbly. I can hear loud background noises. “I’ll be there in five, hurry up.”

It’s just after 10 o’clock and Jeff is still glued to the screen, his shoulders curved forward as if he were personally trying to block the play of the opponents.

I sneak up to him to say goodbye, but he doesn’t notice me until I’m actually standing next to him, an arm around his shoulders. He glances up at me and hugs me back.

“Enjoy your game.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” he says, peering round my body so as not to miss a second.

I hear the beep of Jamie’s car horn as soon as I step outside. I hurry along, almost in the hope that the evening itself will end earlier the quicker we get there.

It’s still early,” she says, “But if we get there before the crowds, we can have a good chat.

I let her drive without even paying attention to what roads she’s taking. The only thing I do notice is the silence in the car and the inky black of the night sky outside.

One of these things strikes me as strange, and it takes me a second or two to figure out which. Jamie’s not chattering away in her usual manner. I hope she didn’t notice how phony my enthusiasm about going out tonight was over the phone earlier; but when I search her face, she shoots me a big smile, so I relax and put that thought out of my mind.

We take the I-93 to get to Boston, taking the B20 exit, passing through Albany and Berkeley, before we arrive at the Rise on Stuart Street. Jamie pulls up. The journey didn’t last long, but I’m amazed that my friend managed to drive the entire way without actually saying one word.

We walk along a small stretch of unlit street; the shops on the road are now closed, their windows darkened. Half a block away, we see the bright white neon lights announcing the name of the bar: Rise. The windows are covered with a black film and there’s already a small crowd of people milling around the entrance, waiting for it to open. I can tell that Jamie is already getting excited about the night ahead; this increases when we see Bryan coming towards us. He pulls us through the crowd and lets us slip into the bar before opening time.

His animal grace as he walks catches my eye. It seems like months since I last saw him, not days. He seems to have changed radically; he was almost as gawky and awkward as me before. How did this change come about? His face is slimmer, his cheeks not as puffy, more toned somehow. His neck is sinewy and his chest seems rock hard. His arms and shoulders have muscled up too. His amber eyes shine with an intensity that makes me almost squirm. It’s crazy. That golden chestnut color is the same that sparkles in the eyes of the Bradfords. Except for Locke, of course.