Chasing Shadows (12 page)

"Sarah, it's my fault he's like this. It's me the vardogers want, and they're hurting the people closest to me to get to me. Simon needs me. I can't just let him fight his vardoger on his own. Besides, he can control his vardoger. The first time the vardoger took over his body, it was because he was so emotional about finding me. And today, he was upset because we were arguing." My voice became quieter. "I love him. I don't know why he's siding with my father right now and I'm angry enough to spit nails about it, but he needs me. And I need him."

Sarah was silent for a moment, and then she exhaled heavily. "I guess you know best. Just promise me you'll be careful. Don't turn a blind eye to the fact that Simon is dangerous now, just because you love him."

I promised Sarah I would be careful, and then filled her in about what I had found at the river. After I got off the phone, I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, hearing my father's words in my head over and over again.

I was tempted to ignore the knock on my bedroom door, but the second knock was more insistent, and I had a pretty good idea who it was. And he wasn't about to give up.

"Come in," I said, sounding like a surly teenager. Simon looked anxious when he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. I sat up on the bed as he walked over, not wanting to be in a vulnerable position.

"Are you here to convince me that I'm crazy?"

Simon sat down on the bed next to me, the corners of his mouth turning down. "I didn't say you were crazy. But don't you think there could be a logical explanation for all this?"

I stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you kidding me? What could explain all this away? And if I'm crazy, does that mean you're crazy too? What about Sarah and Grant? Explain where the hell my aunt disappeared to! What about her friends that also vanished into thin air?"

I didn't care that I was getting hysterical. I had more than enough reason to be angry. Simon put a placating arm on my shoulder but I pulled back from his touch.

"Caitlin, I told you I don't think you're crazy. Maybe something really happened to your aunt. By an intruder or something. We can report it to the police now that she's been gone for over 48 hours. As for her friends, they could be anywhere. Just because you haven't seen them again doesn't mean they're missing. As for what's happened with me...I'm ashamed to admit it, but maybe the stress of everything got to me and I broke." Simon was staring at his hands in his lap. "I never in a million years thought I could lay a hand on a woman. Especially you. But you disappearing made me go a little insane. I could be experiencing blackouts when I've become violent with you because...I'm too ashamed to remember. Maybe I'm having some sort of mental breakdown."

"No," I cried, wanting to throw Simon's words back at him. "I know you, Simon. You could never hurt me." I took in a long shuddering breath. "And none of that explains what happened with Sarah's vardoger. You're not the only one who saw it attacking me. Grant and Sarah saw it too."

"It was dark, and you were screaming. Maybe we all thought we saw something because of what was discussed that night. Everyone's imagination was in overdrive, talking about shadows and possessions, and maybe we saw something because we thought we should."

"Simon, please don't do this," I whispered. "I can't do this without you."

Simon looked at me with eyes blazing. He grabbed my hands and this time I didn't pull away. "I'll never leave you.
Never.
I'll help you through this. God knows I need help too. I must be sick. That's the only explanation I can come up with."

I felt more dead inside than I ever had. Worse than when I had fled Maxwell to find my aunt. Simon genuinely thought I was mentally ill. And he seemed to think there was something wrong with him as well. I felt that niggling doubt again.

"So you just want to just pretend nothing happened? That's impossible! I know what I saw, what I experienced. I know I'm not insane!"

The desolate expression on Simon's face slayed me. Almost as much as his lack of belief in me. His mouth tightened. "Let's not fight about this."

I ripped my hands out of his grasp, moving away from him. I forgot about my earlier vow to never leave Simon, my fury blotting out everything else. "I'm going back to Connecticut tomorrow morning. It was a mistake to come here. My father can't help me. I have to concentrate on finding my aunt. You can come with me or not. I don't really care."

I stood, walking to the bedroom door and opening it. I didn't turn around to look at Simon, my pain threatening to swallow me whole, but I kept my voice even. "Please leave my room."

I jumped when Simon spoke, not realizing how close he was to me, he had moved so quietly. I flinched when he reached up, but he just turned my head towards him so that I was facing him. His eyes were bleak as he looked at me.

"All I know is that I love you, Caitlin. We'll figure out the rest."

I slammed the door after he left the room, quivering with anger and hurt. How could I have been so wrong about Simon? Yet, how could I still love him?

I debated leaving for Connecticut tonight, but I was too mentally tired. I felt like I was going to become unglued at any moment. And I knew deep down that I would never leave Simon behind. I debated calling Sarah to tell her about Simon's latest slap in the face, but I decided no good would come of it. It would just make her worry even more.

I didn't know how long I lay in bed, wrestling with everything that was happening, when I heard murmurings downstairs. I went to my bedroom door and opened it a crack, straining to hear. My father and Simon were talking, but their voices were too quiet to make out what they were saying.

I slowly opened the door wider, stealthily making my way to the stairs. I crept halfway down the stairs, holding my breath and praying that they wouldn't creak and give me away. I crouched on the stairs, hidden from view, but I could hear the conversation they were having, even though their voices were low.

"I'm worried about her."

My father grunted in response. So much for his earlier fatherly concern.

"I don't think it's a good idea for her to be here. Learning the details about her mother's death has upset her too much."

"It's her own fault for digging where she shouldn't be. That's in the past."

"She wants to go back to Connecticut to look for her aunt."

My father snorted, and I felt myself flush from anger. How could he care so little about his own sister?

"Brenda has always caused trouble. Caitlin doesn't want to meet the same fate as Brenda."

"What does that mean?" Simon sounded angry. Their conversation was confusing, hinting at a familiarity that I didn't understand. They were speaking so frankly, which was odd for two people who had just met today. Simon had threatened physical violence on my father just a few hours earlier.

"It means she needs to watch herself, that's all."

There was a long silence, so long that I contemplated slinking back to my room. I didn't want their conversation to be over and have one of them walk out and catch me eavesdropping. Simon's voice stopped me.

"I'm going to Connecticut with her. Don't do anything to upset her."

I heard footsteps, so I raced as quietly as I could back to my room, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I quickly shut the door, wincing when it creaked.

I paced my room, my thoughts racing a mile a minute. The authoritative tone of Simon's last statement bewildered me. It's not that I was surprised that they were talking about me. After all, they both thought I belonged in an insane asylum. But the dynamics of their exchange didn't make sense. It was as if my father was deferring to him.

I froze when I heard footsteps approach my bedroom door and stop in front of it. I don't know what possessed me, but I scrambled as quietly as I could to the door and locked it. There was an audible click and I cringed at the noise, sure that whoever was on the other side of the door heard it too.

I didn't release my breath until the footsteps started up again, fading away.

A part of me wanted to storm out and demand that they tell me what was going on. But I doubted they would tell me the truth. They would just humor me until the men in the straitjackets arrived, carting me off to the mental institution.

I needed to figure out the truth on my own. The best way was to not let on that I had heard anything. I would never get anything out of my father, but Simon was a different story. Regardless of what was going on, I knew his feelings for me were his weakness. Because I couldn't believe his feelings were fabricated. No one could act that well.

We would go to Connecticut tomorrow, away from my father, and I would get the truth from Simon, either by guile or force.

It took me a while to fall asleep, but for the first time I welcomed it. As terrifying as my visions were, there was a chance that I would have a dream that would shed some light on what was happening. I was willing to risk everything for the truth.

Chapter Eleven

"Is blood thicker than water?"

I whipped my head around, towards the voice, but I couldn't make out anything in the dark.

"Who's there?" My voice sounded weak and frightened to my own ears.

There was silence and then the voice again. "Which bonds are stronger? Which gives you life?"

It was so hot. I felt like I was burning, but there was nothing but darkness. I didn't recognize the voice, but it was getting closer and closer. It was frightening not being able to see.

"I'm...I'm not sure," I faltered. "Isn't blood thicker than water? Doesn't blood give you life?"

"A bond unbroken can be a curse. A watery grave can be a blessing."

I whirled around, the voice a whisper right against my neck. I reached out in the darkness, but my hands grasped nothing but air.

"What does that mean?" I begged. "I don't understand!"

"You will." The voice was receding, becoming fainter. "You'll understand when it's your time."

I gasped when I woke up, automatically throwing my arm over my eyes as the bright sunshine streaming through my window made me squint. I sat up slowly, surprised that it was morning. I hadn't expected to sleep through the night, but my exhaustion had won out.

I wondered at my dream, trying to make sense of the message. It seemed like a warning, but I didn't understand the meaning. Was the line about blood being thicker than water telling me to trust my father? Or did it mean the opposite? I shuddered at the thought of a watery grave, which seemed to point to my mother.

These dreams seemed to be replacing my visions, which I wasn't complaining about since the latter were usually so violent. On the other hand, I wanted to know who the vardogers would be attacking next, and I needed my visions for that.

I wanted to change my clothes, but my bag was still in the trunk of Simon's car. I decided that wearing the same outfit was the least of my problems, but I definitely needed to wash my face and brush my teeth. Despite everything, I heard my stomach grumble. The last time I had eaten anything was yesterday while we were on the road.

I unlocked my door, opening it slowly, but I didn't hear evidence of anyone being home. The window to my bedroom faced the backyard, so I couldn't check to see if any cars were in the driveway.

I went to the bathroom and quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth with a spare toothbrush. I avoided my reflection once I saw how wan and pale I looked, seeming much older than my twenty-one years.

I padded down the stairs, stopping in my tracks when I saw Simon sitting at the breakfast table. He had obviously heard my approach because he was staring at me. I looked away and continued into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. I pulled out a bowl, filling it with milk before sitting down at the table with a box of cereal.

I avoided his eyes as I filled my bowl with cereal, although I could see his hands nervously clutching a cup of coffee. I started eating, staring at the cereal box as though it was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. Despite my conviction last night that I would get the truth from Simon, I was feeling on edge and unsure of what to say.

"Caitlin," Simon said, finally breaking the awkward silence. "Look at me."

I glanced up at him, my pulse quickening when I saw the sadness in his eyes. It would be so much easier if I hated him, if I didn't believe he truly loved me on some level.

Simon sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "About last night...I'm sorry if you thought I was siding with your father. Of course I don't think you're insane. All of this is just hard for me to accept, and I was grasping for a different explanation. An explanation that didn't scare me so much."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised that he was backpedaling from last night's assertion that I was just imagining things. I wanted to believe him, but it seemed too convenient for him to suddenly have faith in me again.

I continued eating my cereal, not saying a word. It was hard looking at him. He looked so weary, the stress of the past few days making his features strained. I remembered how laidback and relaxed he had been the first time I had met him. He seemed like a completely different person from the one I had watched onstage, entrancing the crowd.

"Are we going to Connecticut today?" Simon asked when I didn't respond.

"You're coming with me?" I already knew the answer from the conversation I overheard last night, but I wanted to pretend ignorance.

"Of course. We're in this together." Simon looked so sincere that I wanted to believe him. Maybe it was like he said. He had just been so scared of the truth that he had been looking for any other explanation.

"Where's my father?"

"He left for work. He said to call him once we got to Connecticut."

I nodded, not saying anything more. I finished my breakfast in silence, feeling Simon's gaze on me. It was hard choking down the cereal, my hunger vanishing from all the emotions colliding inside of me.

"Let's go," I said after I had washed my bowl and spoon. I grabbed my aunt's journal and made sure I had the palladium coin in my pocket. I threw on my jacket and followed Simon to his car. The chill of the November air was welcoming, helping to clear my head.