Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) (12 page)

I let the
weight of what she said settle over me. Grace lost her mother, too. I can't
believe I didn't know this. I really need to get my head out of my ass if I
want to have any chance at having a friend in this town.

"I'm
sorry," I say, knowing that it doesn't mean anything. I can't count how
many times I heard the same things after my parents were killed and it didn't
mean or change a damn thing.

Grace
laughs bitterly confirming my thoughts. "Don't be. My mother left me, she
wasn't taken from me like your parents were."

I feel
like a jerk because I have no idea what to say, so I focus on my coffee sucking
the last
chocolatey
dregs from the bottom of the
glass. Grace does the same, her face smooth, hiding any emotion or thought. Our
coffee break is officially over. I stand and Grace follows suit somewhat
reluctantly.

The air
seems even hotter than before, after being in the air conditioning. I squint
through the haze, my brain taking its time registering the fact that Anders is
standing across the street in front of the library, arms crossed, looking
annoyed.

I roll
my eyes and stroll casually through the cross walk.

"Sup?"
I say with a smirk once I'm standing in front of him.

Anders'
eyes narrow but his mouth quirks up slightly at the corner, a foreign sign of
amusement.

"Your
grandmother is back. She wants to see you right away," he answers.

My
chest tightens but I manage to take in a breath before responding in as even a
tone as I can. "That's nice, but, as you're aware, I'm busy right now. You
will take me back to the estate at the previously designated time, at which
point I will see Magda. If she has a problem with that she can call me
herself," I say mimicking his formal tone.

With
that, I turn on my heel and march back into the library, my back straight and
head tall even though my hands are shaking. Once I'm inside, I keep going until
I'm deep in the stacks; I slump against one of the shelves and press my eyes
closed. The truth is, Magda terrifies me. I have no idea what she knows about
me and what's been happening. As soon as I'm sure I'm not going to have some
sort of panic attack, I head down to the basement.

I
expect Grace to want some sort of explanation about my reaction, not that I
really need to give one since half the town feels the same way about Magda as I
do, but she seems sort of dazed and doesn't mention that she notices anything
unusual. I notice a slight pink in her cheeks that seems different than her
usual blush. I press my lips together and suppress an eye-roll. Anders is kind
of hot, but not my style. I guess he's Grace's style.

We
spend the next hour sorting through the moldy boxes, both of us preoccupied
with our own thoughts. The time slips by unnoticed and, before I'm ready,
Anders is standing at the foot of the basement stairs glaring at me, only
gaining my attention when he clears his throat in that loud obnoxious way only
he can manage. Grace looks up, startled, and her face flushes immediately. It
would be cute if Anders
wasn't
so annoying.

I
unfold myself from my cramped position on the floor. My bones crack as I
stretch and I wince. I glance at Anders and find him watching me, his normal
glare absent from his face, replaced by a blatant look of appreciation. Gross.

"Grace,
do you want a ride home?" I ask, causing her to jump.

Her
eyes slide slowly from Anders to me before giving me a barely perceptible nod.
I never usually offer because Grace always walks, her house being on one of the
streets off of Main Street, but I need a buffer between Anders and me,
especially after the look he was just giving me. Plus, I'm not too keen on
getting back to the estate and Magda.

I
breeze by Anders without looking at him. Outside, thick dark clouds have
swallowed up the sun and the air smells like pending rain. I can feel the
energy in the air crackling off my skin as I move; it shoots straight to the
stone around my neck causing it to grow warm. I bite back a smile. Ever since
the night I stepped through space and time, or whatever, I've been practicing
using my abilities, but I haven't really had the chance to see what I can do. A
thunderstorm would be the perfect opportunity to amplify things. At least, it
seemed to work last time.

Tense
silence descends as we all take our places in the black SUV. Anders drives. I
had offered Grace the front seat, but she refused. It's too awkward trying to
make conversation over the back of the seat, so I take to staring out the
window and willing the skies to open up and pour rain and lightning. A few
sporadic drops splatter across the windshield, but nothing more.

We pull
up alongside the curb in front of the two-story colonial Grace shares with her
father. I gaze up at the house with morbid curiosity. The windows are like
blank eyes in a pale white face. Grace hesitates for a second before opening
the door and slowly stepping out of the car. She gives me a weak smile before
turning and heading up the walk toward her house. I watch her walk, shoulders
slumped, arms wrapped tightly around her. Anders waits until she's inside
before pulling away.

As we
drive, rain starts to pour causing steam to rise up from the streets. I steal a
sidelong glance at Anders. His jaw is tight and his eyes are fixed on the road.
I don't know what his problem was, but if we're going to be stuck together all
the time this is going to have to stop.

"So,
um, I think Grace liked you," I say lamely.

My
voice sounds odd in the tensely silent car. I wait for him to respond, but he
says nothing. I blow out a frustrated breath and turn in my seat so I'm facing
him.

"Why
are you always so mad at me?" I demand.

Anders
remains tense for a moment before his jaw and shoulders relax slightly and he
lets go of a long breath.

"I'm
not mad at you. I'm just..." He trails off, considering his words. I watch
as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth; it's a gesture that reminds me
painfully of
Lex
. I turn away and resume looking out
the window while I wait for him to continue. To my surprise, the car begins to
slow and Anders pulls onto the shoulder. I hear him shift in his seat and feel
his eyes on me but I don't move.

"Look,
Evan. I need to keep my distance," he says.

"From
what, me?" I turn to look at him again. He's gripping the steering wheel,
a torrent of words frozen in his mouth as his jaw tenses again.

"Yes,"
he manages to choke out.

I
swallow hard, stunned by this revelation.

"Why?"
I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. I'm truly frightened now and I
almost forget what I'm capable of.

"Because,
it's easier," he replies hoarsely.

"Than
what, Anders?"

Instead
of answering he shifts the car into drive and pulls back onto the road. The
moment we're back inside the grounds I feel myself relax, physically and
mentally. It turns out that the isolation of the estate suits me. Anders pulls
up in front of the house; I let out a long sigh and sink back into the seat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the corner of Anders' mouth tilt up. I can
feel a blush burning under my skin.

Anders
reaches over and takes my hand. Chills break out over my skin at the contact.
"Evan, it's not an easy thing to explain, but I need this to stay
professional. I want to keep you safe."

I sit
up straight and turn in my seat until I'm looking at him fully. His grip on my
hand tightens.

"From
what?" I ask, desperate for any shred of an explanation from anybody.

Anders’
gaze is focused on where our hands are joined. Slowly, he lets go of my hand
and trails his own up along my arm, his touch soft and deliberate. He fingers
the edge of my neckline before reaching up and sliding his hand around the back
of my neck, cupping it gently. My heart picks up speed, mostly from fear, maybe
a little excitement.

"Anders,"
I say hearing the subtle tremble in my voice, "I know something is going
on. All this extra security that I'm pretty sure I lived without just fine up
until couple months ago, the way the people in this town act, the fact that
Magda has been M.I.A for the better part of my time here. Whatever it is, I
think I have the right to know. Scratch that. I do have a right to know."

Silence
swells between us. I can see the muscles clench and unclench in his jaw as if
he were literally chewing his words. His hand is warm on my neck. Thunder
cracks in the distance and we both flinch; Anders pulls away and grips the
steering wheel again. My skin begins to tingle and lights in the dash flicker.
Time is running out, the answers will have to wait.

"Look,
I have to get inside and see what old moth balls wants. But don't think I'm
going to let this go."

Anders'
mouth drops before his face splits into a wide grin. "Old moth
balls?" he asks incredulously.

I can't
hold back my own grin. Instead, I turn and look out the window at the imposing
facade of Magda's mansion. I'm reminded of my first day here, when Lily and I
sat in her car and laughed. A knot tightens in my stomach. I've been dodging
Lilian's
calls for the last couple of weeks. I'm only
managing to numb myself sufficiently enough to get through the day without
thinking about them, I don't have the capacity to deal with
Lilian
,
too.

"Evan?"

"Yeah,
yeah," is all I say. Without looking back, I open the car door and slide
out. "Later," I call out over my shoulder as I close the door behind
me.

I bolt
up the front steps and make it to the top just as the skies open up and let a
torrent of rain and lightning out. The door opens for me before I reach it and
I'm greeted by Albert. He gives me a solemn nod as I sidle by feeling sheepish.

Inside,
there is a flurry of activity. The staff seems to have tripled while I was
gone, all of them dusting and setting up flower arrangements and sorting the
household out with manic enthusiasm. Normally, the house is filled with
shadows, shadows that give me a sense of comfort that I can't explain. Now,
they've all been chased away and eaten up by the various chandeliers and gas lamps,
by the cheery fires burning in almost every hearth. I twist the end of my
ponytail nervously, feeling out of place for the first time since I got here. I
haven't even realized how much I've felt at home here until now. It makes me
nervous.

While
I'm distracted by the activity and a budding panic attack, Greta materializes
in front of me. She gives me her usual icy smile, but I can see the sympathy
just beneath. Her eyes travel down over my worn t-shirt and dusty jeans. She
presses her lips together and gives a nod of acceptance.

"Your
grandmother is in the drawing room. She'd like to see you. Now." She
doesn't wait for me to respond before turning and walking away to yell at a
girl who just dropped a heavy-looking vase. It makes a loud, clattering sound
when it hits the floor, but it doesn't break.

I take
a steadying breath; electricity crackles in my fingertips, a reminder of the
building intensity of the storm. I turn on my heel and head down the hall,
careful to keep out of the way of the frantic maids. There are several drawing
rooms to choose from, but I know the one Greta meant. It's probably one of the
more modern rooms in the house, with sofas and chairs upholstered in sleek,
chocolate-colored silk and ivory walls. The few times she's been home I noticed
that she would often take meetings there.

As I
near the room, the chaos of the rest of the house tapers off. Automatically my
hand strays to the small heart-shaped lump beneath my t-shirt. I hesitate in
front of the door, unsure of myself. The door is solid oak with a simple design
of laurel and roses carved in it. I'm considering how nice a door it really is
and taking due time to really appreciate it, when Magda's voice rings out
cutting through me like a dull knife.

"Evangeline?"

I take
another steadying breath, grip the iron doorknob, and push forward. The room is
dim and chilly save for a weak fire in the hearth. Rain splatters against the
glass doors that lead to a private patio. A bolt of lightning lights up the sky
momentarily, sending a wave of longing through me. I press my lips together and
tear my eyes from the sight. My gaze lands on Magda who is sitting cross-legged
on an ornate looking armchair that doesn't seem to fit with the modern I.

For
some reason I'm expecting the worst, but what I get is a smile;
an uncharacteristic
warmth touches Magda's eyes. I should be
relieved but I feel uneasy. She gestures for me to sit down and I obey, sinking
heavily on one of the spindly-legged sofas. Magda raises an eyebrow so I sit up
straighter and fold my hands in my lap.

"I
have heard a great deal about your efforts for the church picnic and I am
pleased," she begins in her deliberate monotone.

She
pauses and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say something, so I remain silent.
This is, apparently, the right thing to do as the pause serves only to allow
the glory of her praise to fully sink in to my pea-sized brain. I manage a
pained smile and she continues.