Book of Revenge (15 page)

“Are you guys going to the Halloween party at Trent’s next Friday?” Wes began. “I guess it’s going to be huge this year. Trent’s parents are going to Hawaii, so we’ll have the whole house. He’s got a hot tub, pool…

Wes’s voice faded away as the front door swung open and the bell rang. My heart jumped at the sound, relief replacing the fear as Jane entered. She was alone. Looking around, her eyes lingered on the hostess who was also tattooed, though her head was bald. Jane tilted away from her as she asked her something. The hostess pointed to us. Her glazed eyes found mine and a meek smile pulled at her lips. Approaching, she appeared isolated by the whole situation. Her arms were wrapped tight around her, her steps quick and short.

Squeezing into the booth next to me, she sat closer than she really needed to. Her lips leaned close to my ear. “I can see what’s different about Winter Wood.”

I nodded, my eyes wide. “I
know!
I thought it looked so normal until I stepped in here.” I kept my voice low. “Where’s Max?” All I could think about was what Jake had said earlier, pertaining to Max’s previous relationships.

I glanced out the window behind us to the street outside. Knowing Max’s dirty past suddenly made me fear for my sister. I could see that she loved Max, and I didn’t want her to end up with a broken heart like this Avery girl did. I turned back to her with a frown on my lips. It frustrated me that I could no longer hear most of her thoughts because of the ring Max had given her, but at the same time, it was the way it was supposed to be, I suppose. First Jane, and now Wes. Where was the fun in that?

It was then that I realized I hadn’t really heard many thoughts since being
here,
though there were an abundance of beings. Everyone seemed to have a handle on the possibility of mind readers and had thus learned to block us. I smiled to myself, feeling an old relief wash over me, like the way I used to feel after drowning the voices away with a pill.

Jake looked at me, having supplied Wes with an acceptance to his party invitation, only a senior could invite any underclassmen. “It is nice, isn’t it?”

Wes bit his lip. “Really? An
errand
…well…”

I elbowed him in the side, hearing where this was going. He stopped talking as he doubled over, forehead on the table and moaning.

“
Well
what?” Jane pressed, looking a little too intrigued.

Jane broke her stare and looked at the feather-haired waitress, her eyes growing wide. “Oh…uh,
no,”
she stammered, as taken aback by her appearance as I had been.

The waitress rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. She sauntered off, her hips swaying unnaturally.

“What
is
she?” Jane asked under her breath.

We all laughed at the way she’d said it—without guilt for the taunting manner of it.

Jake tapped a fork against the table to silence us. “She’s a Faerie.”

Jane pressed her hand against her cheek. “Huh.” She pondered the thought as I did before she leaned close to me once more.
“You think it’s safe to use the bathroom?”
she whispered.

Jake leaned forward, invading our private conversation. “Seriously, could you be any more obvious? You’re like tourists.”

Jane’s cheeks flushed. “Well… I don’t know,” she whined.

Jake pointed toward the back of the café. “Back there. I assure you it’s plenty safe.” He sounded exasperated by our childishness—I felt ashamed, as though it meant the warm veiled light would be taken from me as punishment. I wanted to cry because of it, but I found my senses instead.

Jane slid out of the booth, her hands tight at her sides as she walked rigidly to the back of the restaurant, a cocoon of negative energy surrounding her.

Max:

I urged Jane into the café, watching her as she crossed the street before turning and making my way to the corner where the apothecary sat, dark. I pulled out my wallet as I walked and searched for a key I hadn’t removed from its place for many years. I’d received the key in Patrick’s will, but I’d never had the guts to come back here to use it.

Reaching the door, the darkened window was an unwelcomed sight. In my mind, I saw the way the apothecary once was—the windows warm, the scent of perfumes seeping into the street—all that was gone now.

Unlocking the door, I slid inside. The shelves were bare and coated with a thin film of age. I drew in a deep breath, trying to find the smell that reminded me of Patrick, of the father figure I’d grown to love after my own father had died, but I didn’t. I exhaled, disappointed.

In my head, I had always seen him as a part of my family. He’d loved my mother in a way my real father never could, and though my real father chose to ignore the love they shared and live a lie, I knew it had still left him bitter. I always thought I was strange because none of it ever bothered me, as it should have. I guess in my defense, I figured there was no way to know when true love would find you. The unfortunate thing in that were those, like my father and Avery, who’d suffered because of it.

Ruining Avery was never my plan. Understandably, Avery hated me for it. As much as I tried to remain here to be supportive, the string of unhappiness my actions caused robbed me of the sanctuary Winter Wood once offered. She’d disappeared soon after my desertion from this place, a thankful thing, and I really couldn’t blame her.

I stole to the back room, opening the office door and finding the space untouched. There was a half burned candle on Patrick’s desk, the wax frozen in the last moment he’d beckoned it to burn, forever waiting for his return. I moved forward and pulled out the desk chair, the oak creaking as I sat. I sighed, shutting my eyes and remembering the many times I sought council from him in this very room.

I heard the echo of his voice against the walls, the squeak of the chair a trigger for the vision. There was always the smell of lavender in the air. It was my mother’s favorite flower. His belongings were, at all times, perfectly placed, perfectly dusted, and well loved—a far cry from the condition I found them in now. Clearly his friends, family, and the government had already searched his belongings, but found seemingly everything useless, except to me.

Opening my eyes, I leaned forward and began to search through the drawers, all except the middle one, which was locked. I bit my lip, remembering what was once there. I took the key I’d used to open the front door and slid it into the lock, surprised to find it fit. It took a little nudging to make it turn and unlock, but when I slid the drawer toward me, I was disappointed to find it was empty. The Truth Stone was gone.

I slowly slid the drawer shut and sighed.

Was that what I had come here for?

I leaned my elbows against the desk.

Why was I looking for the Truth if this life, right now, was supposed to be all I wanted? Was there still more?

I allowed the Truth I’d seen to come back to me, and one thing seemed to resonate—the moment hadn’t yet happened. It’s true that I’d found Jane, the very same girl from the Truth, but wasn’t the Truth supposed to come to pass, like déjà vu?

What did it mean?

Jane was young in the dream, the same age she was now. It had to happen soon. “She’d found me.” I whispered, thinking of the words she’d said in the dream. “If she’d found me, then I must have been lost somewhere.” I bit my nails.

Lost.

I let the word roll around in my head, hoping to find a place for it, but nothing came without danger first.

Jane:

I ruefully pushed open the restroom door, allowing it to swing shut behind me. The room was long and narrow, mirrors down the left and stalls on the right. A red stripe of tile dissected the room, white above, and white below. I instinctively looked below the stall doors, and from what I could see, it was empty. I chose a booth and did my business, flushing the toilet with my foot before exiting to wash my hands.

With the cold water running over my fingers, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I stared deep into my eyes, wondering what it was about me that Max found so important. I’d never done anything worth noting, never succeeded at any real magick, nor did I know any besides creating a few sparks, and I’d never inflicted any Earth-altering change. I was just another person, plugging away each new day as I had the last. A strangling pressure occupied my chest at the thought. I wanted to do something amazing. I wanted to inflict change somehow, but how could I prove to the world that I deserve that? I wanted a real dream.

The restroom door swung open beside me, my heart fluttering with the sound. I didn’t want to know who or what was sharing this small room with me. My gaze dropped back to my hands, trying to act natural. I was on edge here, and my heart could barely handle it. Watching from the corner of my eye, a girl advanced to the sink beside me. I breathed a sigh of relief—at least this being was visibly identifiable. Her scent wafted in her wake, sweet and innocent, and distinctly cinnamon.

She turned on the faucet and slowly washed her hands, sighing dramatically as she concentrated on the task.

I allowed myself to take advantage of the moment and glance at her more completely. She was blonde, strikingly beautiful, and strikingly
normal
—at least considering the way our waitress looked. Her lashes were icy blue, her cheeks kissed with pink as though she’d just stepped in from a snowy hike. Her skin glistened like plastic, so smooth you wondered if it had ever seen the sun.

She began to hum, and like a thread of smoke riding on the scent of cinnamon, her future death flooded my mind. As I recognized what it was, one thing was obvious—she was not dead, just as Max wasn’t dead within his future death. She spun and spun and spun to the sound of her humming in a field so bright with the sun, there was very little contrast.

She shut off the water, breaking the stream of thought. Turning, she looked hopelessly for a towel to dry her dripping hands, but there was none. “
Ugh…
I hate this place.” Her voice was like a song, even though she was complaining.

I giggled a little, feeling just as annoyed by the absence of drying implements. I fanned my hands through the air in a failed attempt to substitute.

The girl looked at me, smiling. “You can never trust a grungy café, can you?”

I shook my head. “No. They’re always out of either towels or toilet paper.” I smiled back. “I guess I’d rather they be out of towels.”

The girl’s platinum blond hair moved like water, glittering despite the dull neon light. “Yeah,” she agreed with wide eyes. “Thank the gods for that.”

I was gawking, wondering how she could look so good given the atmospheric circumstances surrounding her. Her glittery eyes never stopped moving, so full of life. My own reflection showed bags under my eyes, and where she was pale in a beautiful porcelain way, I was pale in a sickly way.

Her gaze at last rested on me. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new to town?” the girl added, giving in to shaking her hands as I was.

“Jane? That’s a lovely name, very
human
.” The girl cocked her head to the side, inspecting me. “What are you? Alchemist, clairvoyant…”

The girl giggled. “I bet. I couldn’t imagine seeing that all the time.” She crinkled her nose, but still, it didn’t make her look unattractive. “I’m Navia, by the way.”

She’d paused as though she’d forgotten her own name, but it was endearing. “Nice to meet you, Navia.” I allowed her name resonate on my tongue. “Neat name.” It was admittedly strange to talk so frankly with someone like this—someone so purely
magickal.