Descendant (4 page)

“Get that thing out of here,” I said, jabbing my finger in the direction of the necklace. My sister stayed rooted in place.

“Alex? This isn’t funny anymore.”

“I’m not laughing!” I said in a hysterical whisper. “Do I look like I’m joking to you? I don’t want it back—you can keep it.

Consider it an early birthday present, or whatever, just take it away from me.”

Lora shifted her weight back and forth where she stood and folded her arms across her chest.

“Alex…” she began, shaking her head and looking at me like she thought I could use a straight jacket. She did move slowly toward the necklace though, not taking her eyes off me even as she bent down to pick it up and drop back into her pocket.

With the necklace out of sight, I found it much easier to calm myself. I could still pick up its quiet humming, but the longer it stayed in her pocket the easier it was to block it out. I took a deep breath, and my eyes closed for a few seconds. When I opened them again, Lora was backing up toward the door. She seemed to have noticed my regained composure, judging by the timid smile she flashed me.

“So, when you get over this crazy fit you’re having… you let me know, okay?” Lora’s tone had changed from frightened to wary amusement. “I’ll be outside. Maddy’s coming over — we need to get some more practice in before the big game against West Meck tomorrow.” Her face turned serious again. “You should join us, maybe get a little fresh air, you know? It would probably do you good.”

“Sure.”

And now my little sister was the one looking out for me.

Great. The thought alone made me sick to my stomach. Not that I could real y argue for a role-reversal after what just happened. Because clearly, Lora had a more commanding grip on reality than her big sis did at the moment. I checked my palm one last time. Still completely burn free.

As if I needed to reaffirm my insanity.

Lora walked away, and for a moment I considered shutting and locking the door behind her. But there was no point in staying in here—I wasn’t tired anymore, and if I didn’t go back to sleep then I’d just end up sitting in here thinking about all this stuff I wanted to pretend wasn’t happening.

And as much fun as that sounded, I decided to go get something to eat instead.

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her face hidden by a newspaper. I moved soundlessly to the refrigerator, grabbed an apple and a coke from it and attempted to leave just as quietly. I’d made it to the threshold separating the kitchen linoleum from the hardwood dining-room floor when the newspaper rustled behind me.

“Sit down, Alex.”

I bit my lip and reluctantly turned back around to take a seat in the chair opposite of her.

“I thought you were going to sleep all day,” my mom said, lowering the paper and peering over it.

I shrugged. “Yeah… I didn’t sleep well . Remember?

Nightmares, sleepwalking—real y, I barely slept at all ,” I said pointedly.

“Mmm…” She moved the newspaper so it blocked her face again and was silent.

I inhaled deeply and held the breath, waiting for her to speak. But she seemed extremely interested in that newspaper all of a sudden. I took a sip of my coke and pushed my bangs out of my face. Then I set the coke down as loudly as I could and cleared my throat. She continued to ignore me.

Maybe she wanted me to speak first? And maybe, now that she’d had a chance to calm down, she’d listen to my side of the story? If nothing else, I needed to break this uncomfortable silence hovering over us.

“Mom, about last night. I real y think you should know that—”

“You had a visitor earlier.”

“What? Who?”

“A young man I’ve never seen before. He said the two of you had plans?” She closed and folded the newspaper and set it aside.

“Plans?” I repeated, confused. “Um…what did he look like?” I couldn’t remember making any plans for this morning—especial y with anybody my mom wouldn’t know.

“Like somebody I wouldn’t approve of you dating,” she replied.

I rolled my eyes. “Who says I want to date the guy—I don’t even know who we’re talking about.”

“He was older, I think—too old for you. Dark hair maybe?”

She paused, looking frustrated all of a sudden. “I don’t know Alex…maybe you should ask Lora? She saw him too.

Actual y, she’s the one who answered the door first. She didn’t know who he was either though…”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“Lora tried. But it was earlier this morning, and you were still dead to the world.”

still dead to the world.”

“Oh.”

“Not that it mattered,” my mom continued. “I informed him of your incarcerated state, and told him you two would have to reschedule your plans. I told him to check back with you in about ten years.”

“Great. Thanks Mom.”

“Anytime sweetie.” She took a sip from the coffee mug now occupying her right hand.

“Can I go now?” I stood up without waiting for an answer.

“I need you to run to the store and pick up a few things,” she said, ignoring my question. “The list is on the counter over there.” She picked up and unfolded her newspaper, then disappeared behind it without another word.

I glowered at her. My mouth opened, ready to argue, but then I thought better of it. At least she was giving me a chance to get out of the house.

Thinking I should probably take this opportunity and run with it, I snatched the list off the counter and dashed to my room.

Once there, I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and the first tank top I could find, pulled my hair up into a messy bun, and grabbed my purse from where it hung on the bedpost.

My car was parked in front of the garage, but in an effort to avoid my mom, I slipped out the back door and took the most indirect route possible to reach it.

I reached my beloved old-piece-of-crap Honda Civic and threw the door open. The keys were in the ignition before I even rested completely in the seat. I pushed in the clutch, turned the key and waited for the engine to stutter to life.

Then I jerked it into reverse and practical y flew out of the driveway, spinning up the gravel as I went.

Seeing as how I was grounded for who knows how long, I decided it made sense to draw out this shopping trip, this taste of freedom, for as long as I possibly could. Even driving slowly though, and taking the longest way possible, I still reached the store in less than fifteen minutes. Gotta love small towns.

Going out in public was awkward these days. I guess I just wasn’t expecting everybody to treat me like I had some kind of disease just because my dad died. It was kind of annoying real y, the way they avoided eye contact, or smiled awkwardly at me if they couldn’t do that in time. And once I passed them, I could feel their eyes following me until I turned around—at which point they would suddenly become ridiculously fascinated by the floor.

I wasn’t in any hurry to get back home, but I wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at either, so I got in and out of the store quickly. It was the instant I stepped through the automatic exit doors that I noticed her.

I probably would’ve walked right by her, except this particular young woman actual y looked up and made—and held—eye contact with me. This was so strange, so foreign to me at this point that I had a hard time looking away. It was so distracting, in fact, that I tripped as I stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, causing some of my groceries to topple out of their bags. The women just kept staring as I hastily bent to pick them up. I finished shoving the fallen groceries back into their bags and hurried to my car, popped the trunk and started flinging stuff in.

My hand was resting on the trunk, about to shut it, when out of the corner of my eye I saw the woman walking toward me. Her pace was quick, and within seconds she was standing uncomfortably close to me. I slammed the trunk and spun away, only to somehow find my self face to face with her.

“I need you to come with me,” she said. “Quietly. Okay, Alexandra?”

I tensed as she placed a hand on my arm.

“I don’t want to hurt you—I just need to talk to you.”

I tried to jerk my arm out of her grasp, but she held on like her fingers were covered in superglue. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, after about my fifth unsuccessfull attempt to break free.

The woman smiled through pursed lips. “You’re wrong about that. This is going to be a long talk—it would be kind of sil y for us to just stand in the middle of this parking lot, wouldn’t you agree?”

I stared blankly at her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she continued, her grip tightening. “I just didn’t want you to get away.”

“I’m afraid I don’t real y have time to talk.” I was starting to panic. “I should be getting home,” I added, suddenly thankfull that my punishment, however unfair it was, at least gave me a ready excuse to leave.

“Why don’t we grab some lunch, hmm?” she said, acting as though she hadn’t heard me. She peered over my shoulder and, with the hand that wasn’t cutting off the circulation in my arm, she pointed toward Michelangelo’s— a tiny Italian restaurant on the other end of the shopping center.

“I’ve heard that place is good,” she said.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” I said as I attempted to pry her fingers off my arm. “And by ‘you’ll ’ I mean just that—as in you go enjoy it. By yourself. Now let me go!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not just yet…I have too much to tell you.” But even as she spoke, her grip loosened slightly.

“But I’m not trying to kidnap you or anything…” she said with a frown. A torn look crossed her face. “If I let you go, wil you please just sit and talk with me?”

“Will you leave me alone, then?”

“If you want me too, then yes,” she said with a carefull nod.

I cast one last defeated look at my car. “…Fine,” I said, wrenching my arm out of her grasp. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and together we walked the short distance to the restaurant. As we sat down at one of the umbrel a-shaded tables outside the venue, I took my first good look at her and suddenly realized that this woman, with her long, straight black hair, was familiar somehow. I ended up staring at her for a long time, trying to place her face. She didn’t seem to mind, though—I had a feeling she was probably use to people staring, because there was no denying that she was incredibly beautiful. There was something exotic about her and those almond-shaped, dark blue eyes and thin lips that formed an understated smile. She was flawless—one of those people who made you wish you’d spent a little more time getting ready before you left the house.

“Who are you?” I asked, mostly to interrupt my own staring.

“My name is Serafina Blake,” she said, extending her right hand to me. “But please, you just call me Sera, and I’ll just cal you Alex, if I may? No need for formalities.”

I shook her hand hesitantly, still trying to place her face as she continued.

“I was a close friend of your father’s. I was so sorry to hear about his passing.”

“You were at his funeral, weren’t you?” I knew the answer before I even asked the question. How could I forget her?

The way she’d stood that day, completely still —like a corpse herself, and the way her eyes had followed me to corpse herself, and the way her eyes had followed me to the car…

“Yes. I was there,” Sera replied, frowning. She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, and all too ready to be distracted by the waiter who chose that moment to come take our drink orders.

“Why have I never seen you before?” I said as the waiter walked away. “I mean, if you and my father were such good friends?” My words probably came off as accusing, but I was kind of okay with that. I didn’t like the idea of my father being ‘close friends’ with a young, beautiful woman I’d never met.

“How about I explain that after we order some lunch? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said, her smile returning as she reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of thin-rimmed black glasses. She slid them on and picked up her menu.

I didn’t touch mine.

“Is the lasagna good here?” she asked after a few minutes of browsing.

“I don’t know. I don’t like lasagna.”

She lowered the menu and peered at me over the rims of her glasses. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked. “C’mon —it’s my treat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I lied. Actual y, I was starving. That apple real y hadn’t filled me up. But I didn’t want to be distracted by food now—I just wanted to hear what this strange woman had to say and then get as far away from her as possible.

“Relax, Alex. I just want to talk, okay?” she said, reaching her hand across the table laying it across my own. I jerked my hand from under her touch and pulled my other arm out of her reach too. She didn’t acknowledge my jumpiness, maybe because at that moment the waiter returned with our drinks and to take our orders.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Alex?” Sera asked.

“I’m good, thanks,” I replied, handing off my unopened menu to the waiter.

“Okay,” she said with a shrug.

Sera placed her order while I slumped back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. Then she clasped her hands together and placed them on the table in front of her, and we commenced a long, awkward moment of silence, in which I stared at her expectantly and she stared amiably off into space, pretending not to notice me.

“Well ?” I final y said.

Sera had been busy studying her nails by this point, but when I spoke she lifted her head up and smiled. “You’re rather impatient, aren’t you?”

I shrugged.

“Well , I suppose I do owe you an explanation,” she continued, drumming her fingertips across the table. “But with so much to tell —I wonder where to begin?”

“Maybe you should’ve planned this whole kidnapping me thing out a little better?” I said with a sarcastic grin.

Her smile faltered slightly. “Perhaps you’re right. And perhaps that’s where I’ll start—by reminding you that I’m not kidnapping you. In fact, I’m trying to do quite the opposite.

I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“These are…unsafe times for you, Alex. And for your family.

But especial y for you.”

“Why my family? Who’s threatening my family?”.

Sera didn’t answer, her eyes shifting to a couple sitting a few tables away who were now staring curiously in our direction. “You need to keep your voice down,” she said, animosity appearing in her voice for the first time.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“And you don’t need to worry about your family, anyway. I—and several others—have been keeping a close watch over your household since…” Her voice trailed off as a frown returned to her face.

“Since…?” I prompted.

She hesitated and took a deep breath. “Since we failed to protect your father.” It took a few seconds for the words to sink in.

“My father?” I shook my head. “What are you talking about?

My father drowned. He was alone. What could you possibly…”

“He didn’t drown, Alex.”

“Liar.” I said it—practical y yelled it—without even thinking.

Several heads turned our direction, but I didn’t care about being quiet anymore.

“Look, Alex—I didn’t want to be the one to tell you all this, but you have to understand. The danger is very real, and you need to know what’s going on. Or at least know enough to keep yourself safe.” Her voice was urgent, but she still looked calm—which was a lot more than I could say for myself.

Our waiter returned and set Sera’s food in front of her. She smiled and thanked him, but didn’t touch the food even after he left; instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, from which she pulled several photographs which she laid in a row on the table.

“I know him,” I said suddenly, laying a finger on a photograph of a dark haired young man with light blue eyes.

He was looking at the camera with a disgruntled look that clearly said ‘I don’t want to have my picture taken’. “Or, at least, we’ve met… briefly…” I trailed off, not wanting to elaborate. The man in the picture was Kael— if I remembered his name correctly—one of the people who’d saved me at the lake yesterday.

“You’ve met?” Sera’s voice sounded anxious. Her eyes grew wide. “And the others…?” She motioned to the other photographs lying before me.

“Um…I’ve met her…” I said, pointing to a picture of a pale blonde woman. “I think her name was Vanessa?”

“Yes,” Sera confirmed in a voice devoid of emotion.

“Vanessa Lindstrom.”

I studied the remaining pictures, almost all of which had one thing in common: except for the one of Kael, none of the people in the other pictures seemed to be aware they were having their picture taken. They all appeared to have been taken from a distance, or from odd angles, and none of the subjects were looking at the camera. My eyes swept over the remaining photographs. Most of them were of people I didn’t recognize, until I came to one of a darker-skinned young man. He was wearing a lopsided grin and talking to someone who had their back to the camera.

“This one,” I said as I pointed to the picture. “We’ve met.”

“Will iam Rodriquez,” Sera said, a hint of what sounded like malice in her voice.

“Right—Will ,” I said, recal ing his introduction from yesterday.

“Any of the others?” she asked.

I gave the photographs one more glance-over and then shook my head. “No—just those three,” I said. “Why do you have these pictures? Who are these people?”

“These people…” Sera looked thoughtful for a moment, as if carefully searching for the right words. “These people…

are the reason that you and your family need protecting,”

she concluded.

“But why? I still don’t understand…who—?”

“It’s not so much who they are that’s the problem, it’s what they are—and what they are, to put it simply, is a threat to you, and to your family. A threat that needs to be eliminated.”

“Eliminated?” Suddenly the situation seemed a lot more serious.

“You say you’ve met these three?” Sera asked, pul ing the photographs of Kael, Will , and Vanessa out of the row and displaying them like we were playing a hand of poker. I nodded, and she leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “You’re lucky to be alive, then.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “They’re the reason I’m alive.”

“Oh?” Sera looked at me curiously.

I picked at my folded napkin, not wanting to elaborate. I could feel her gaze pressing down on me, and I don’t know why I kept my mouth shut—it didn’t real y make sense; all morning long I’d wanted to talk to someone about what happened yesterday, someone who wouldn’t think I was crazy. Sera seemed like a perfect candidate to be that someone. She seemed to know a lot, and she seemed genuinely concerned about my well -being.

But for some reason, I didn’t want to talk to her. I think I was just suffocating under the weight of everything she’d said so far, and of everything that had happened. Was I real y in that much danger? Had my brush with death been even closer than I’d realized? What about my family? And my dad’s death…did those people I’d seen as saviors real y have anything to do with it?