Flicker (16 page)

              Elise saw Alex preparing to jump the river and barely had time to scramble to the ground. In movements too quick for her eyes to follow, he cleared the rushing water and propelled himself up the hill to her side. Before she could so much as brace herself to run, he'd caught her arm in a grip she couldn't break.

              “Everyone
saw
you today, didn't they?” He said immediately, and Elise froze. It was more of a statement than a question, as if he already knew but was dreading the answer. His soft breath warmed her cheek, and his skin against hers felt like it was on fire. She stopped trying to pull away from him and nodded, silent. “Did anyone touch you?” This was a question, asked with murder in his voice. His vehemence startled her; her wide eyes flew up to meet his burning blue gaze as she answered.

              “No, when I noticed them staring, I ran.” She hadn't noticed until now that she was trembling. “I thought...” she whispered. “There was no other reason for them to look at me, so I thought you'd...” She couldn't bring herself to say it, but broke off into a dry sob that rocked her whole body.

              He cupped her cheek with his other hand, keeping her face tilted up so he could meet her eyes. “I swear to you, I did not disclose your secret. I would never, and will never, betray you like that. You have my word.” His voice was so gentle it made her throat clench and her heart ache, the words spoken with solemnity she'd never heard from anyone in her life. She felt like she was listening, for the first time, to absolute, irrefutable truth.

              “I believe you.”

              Without another word, he drew her to him, pressing her against his chest. “Gods, you're freezing,” he murmured, and for a moment she thought he was stupid, because it was him who was on fire. And then she realized he was right, and her shakes increased until her teeth chattered. She heard him curse under his breath; suddenly, her feet left the ground as he scooped her up into his arms. “Let's get you home,” he breathed against her hair.

              Home. With her parents, and maybe the police since she'd been gone so long, and all the people who would want to look at her. Shoved out into all the lights so everyone could see her-- “NO!” She shrieked, throwing her entire body against him, struggling like her life depended on it. “No, I can't-- let me go!”

              He froze, his arms constricting around her and holding her close. “Okay, okay,” he crooned soothingly. “We don't have to go anywhere. We'll talk right here, all right?” She nodded rapidly, burying her face in the heat of his chest. “There now,” he continued to speak softly as he sat, tucking them both into the relative shelter of the drain pipe. Her shivers gradually subsided as she slowly relaxed into his warmth, and after a few minutes she lifted her head to look up at him.

              “You really didn't tell anyone?” She asked, feeling tiny and unsure.

              He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. “I didn't, and I won't. I'll swear any oath you want-- nothing in the world could make me betray your trust.” At his words, repeated with infinite patience, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders and some of the agony that had twisted her stomach receded; she couldn't help giving him a little smile in return. As he looked down at her, she even saw some of the sadness leave his eyes.

              She frowned again, though, thinking back to the reason she'd run away. “But... you said... do you know why people were looking at me, then?” She asked hesitantly. He sighed.

              “This is uncharted ground for me-- I've never met an untrained omnivore before, so I'm not really certain what you're capable of.” His hands were moving as he spoke-- stroking a strand of wet hair out of her face, tucking her mud-caked skirts around her icy feet-- and she found the touch unusually calming. “But my best guess is that you've been shielding your mind from everyone in this town-- unconsciously-- the whole time you've lived here. Because of that, they've never really registered your presence, and have, as you noticed, by and large ignored you unless you took pains to engage them. But, and I should have realized this would happen, on Saturday when I helped you open up to me, it told your subconscious it didn't need to shield itself quite so forcefully. So when you went back to school, your classmates experienced the charismatic equivalent of a movie star in their midst. It definitely caused a stir.”

              Elise didn't know what to say. Once again, her strange, subconscious energy crap had caused something awful to happen... she curled in on herself again, misery taking hold once more. Maybe it really would be better if she just... she didn't even know. She wished, suddenly, that she'd never met Alex and that none of this had happened. But with his strong arms holding her close, protective and soothing, she knew that wasn't really true. Meeting him was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She just wasn't sure how to deal with the pain that this awakening was causing her.

              When she didn't say anything, he slid his warm fingers under her chin, tilting her face up so he could see her expression. “I can teach you to control it, you know,” he said softly. “All of it.” He took a deep breath; she felt his entire body move with its force, and she felt the fine tremor that ran through him as he let it out. “My mother,” he began hesitantly. “Taught me everything she knew, training me from infancy to master my innate abilities. I was fifteen when my father killed her, but I knew enough by then to stop myself from aging, and I was adept at manipulating the emotions of everyone around me. I ran him through with my sword four years later, in the middle of a room full of his allies, and none of them lifted a hand against me. You have, naturally, exponentially more power than I do, and I can teach you control.”

              Alexander waited with bated breath for her to respond. Now that she was cuddled into his lap, warming slowly as he held her and gently pushed energy into her body, his frenzied search was nothing more than a distant memory. Still, her eyes held the echo of her horror, hopelessness, and grief-- emotions he was desperate to erase from her.

              Finally, she turned her face up to him, everything about her raw, open and vulnerable. “Can't we just stay here together?” She whispered, a child's terror in her voice.

              He met her trusting gaze, brushing a strand of hair back from her face as he took in her pale, mud streaked skin, her red, swollen eyes, and her blue-tinted, gently parted lips. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her-- not for any lust, but because he needed to save her from her pain.

              Before he could do any such thing, a discordant, jarring thought shot through his mind. Alexander let out a soft chuckle, tightening his arms around her and brushing a kiss against her cool forehead. “Little girl, I most definitely need to teach you control.”

              Her eyes huge, she asked him, “Why?”

              His laughter died as he returned her stare and allowed her to see a little of his own fear. “Because right now, I can't tell if I want to kiss you because your mind is reaching out for me to heal you, or because I'm in love with you.”

              He watched the couple for a few minutes longer, but nothing else they said was nearly as interesting as the words that Alexander had uttered so casually. The phrase spun around and around in his head, making him want to dance with glee. Finally, when he decided he wasn't going to hear anything else of note, he withdrew, still painstakingly keeping his presence masked until he was well away. Only then, when he was nearing the car he'd parked at the edge of the woods, did he allow a sadistic chuckle to escape his lips.

              “Untrained omnivore,” his dear old
friend
had said. He laughed harder, his eyes tearing with mirth. It seemed as if Alexander had found himself quite the powerful toy to play with, and he was already enjoying her immensely. Now the question was whether he, having found out about Alexander's secret little plaything, should use the information to curry favor with the Queen, or stay here and forward his own agenda-- with the added opportunity to torment Alexander personally. Before he even finished the thought, he knew which option he would choose.

6 OUR LIVES REWRITTEN

              The sun was painting the sky in pale shades of gray and pink as Alex brought Elise home to shockingly subdued and accommodating parents. She barely remembered the trip out of the forest-- it had taken him hours to calm her enough that he could carry her from her dismal hideaway back into civilization. By that point she had been so tired that it had been all she could do to cling to him, her arms around his neck and her head buried against his chest. Her clearest recollection was a vague, distant surprise that his heart thumped evenly in her ear the whole trip, despite the fact that he was carrying her miles through the woods.

              When he'd climbed the few steps to her front porch, she had been nearly delirious with exhaustion, and had wondered if the whole thing had been a dream-- a feeling that was compounded by her parents' reception. She expected them to be panicked and furious, and had been dreading the intrusion of their demands for an explanation, for her to come to the hospital with them, for her to talk to the police-- and yet, there was none of that. Marie had thrown open the door before Alex could even try to knock, as if she'd been watching out the window, with Robert standing just behind her.  Their voices where hushed as they said over and over, “Thank you. Thank you for finding her.” Elise knew, then, that she must be hallucinating.

              She didn't care, though. In her dream, her mother had wrapped a blanket around her and led Alex upstairs, helping him lay Elise gently on her bed. She'd clutched at him for a moment, whimpering at the thought of him leaving her alone, but he'd shushed her, whispering that he'd be back as he tenderly stroked her wet hair back from her face. She remembered murmuring something about how she loved when he did that, and was very glad that it had all been a dream.

              The dream had started to fade there, as she heard Alex softly assuring her mother that she needed rest, but would be fine. The last thing she remembered was the comforting sound of his voice, soothing her deeper into sleep.

              When she woke, it was slowly and with dazed confusion. Elise lay, snugly cocooned in her covers, and for a moment wondered when her alarm would go off for school. It was Monday, wasn't it? But no, Monday had already passed-- but hadn't that been a dream? Her mother wouldn't have let her sleep through her alarm, but the light streaming in through the lace curtains over her windows was wrong, bright midday rays rather than a soft sunrise. Was it still Sunday? She focused her bleary eyes on her alarm clock: two pm. What?

              Gradually, it came back to her-- the day spent at Alex's house, with all its turmoil and revelations; a quiet Sunday spent reflecting on what his presence might change in her life, then Monday morning's shock, and the agony of betrayal. She recalled with sharp clarity her frantic flight to the woods, the only place she could feel at home, and the hours she had spent there freezing in the rain, sobbing desperately as she saw the shards of her past and the bleakness of her future spread out plainly before her. And finally, the detachment of the inevitable conclusion, the coolly logical decision that she was done hoping.

              And just as she'd made the decision, something made her look up, and there he was.

              A creak on the stairs made her jump, and she immediately regretted the movement: her entire body ached acutely. She had to swallow three times before she could croak out, “Mom?”

              She heard a thump in the hallway, and a moment later her door cracked open and Marie peered in. “Elise!” She cried. “You're awake!” She practically flew across the room to sit on the side of her daughter's bed; through the open door, Elise could see a basket of previously folded laundry on its side, its contents spilled out onto the floor-- that must have been the thud she'd heard.

              “How are you feeling?” Marie asked, pressing the inside of her wrist against Elise's forehead.

              “Okay, I guess,” Elise mumbled, trying not to find a pitch and volume that wouldn't hurt her raw throat. “How long have I been asleep?”

              Her mother looked down, fussing with the blankets. “A little over a day-- it's Wednesday.”

              “Wow,” Elise breathed, a little shocked. She'd never slept that long in her life. Years ago when she'd been recovering from the attack, all she'd wanted had been to sleep, and she hadn't been able to. She'd even tried sedating drugs then, wishing desperately for an oblivion that would allow her to escape everything that had happened, but the events had chased her through her dreams. This time, other than her confused, shifting memories from the trip home, she couldn't remember dreaming anything. Despite her stiff, aching body, her sore throat, her cramped stomach, and her throbbing head, that realization made her smile.

              “Can I get you anything?” Marie asked, looking back up. Her eyes widened as she took in Elise's expression.

              “Some water, please,” Elise whispered, her voice still scratchy.

              Marie rose. “Okay, honey. I'll be right back.” With a soft smile that Elise couldn't read, she left the room.

              Once her mom was gone, Elise pushed back the covers hesitantly, noticing with surprise that someone― probably her mother-- had changed her clothes. Her torn, muddy skirts from Monday were gone, most likely in the garbage, and she was wearing a tank top and an old pair of purple plaid pajama pants. She sat up slowly, stars swimming in front of her eyes and her head pounding. Gingerly, she got to her feet, keeping a hand on her bed until she knew she could stand, and picked her way across her room and down the hall to the bathroom.

              Splashing cool water on her face helped, and she slurped some from her cupped hands, too, soothing her raw throat. By the time her mom came back up the stairs with a glass of water, Elise felt almost human again. “Any chance there's something to eat?” Elise asked, meeting her mom in the hallway and accepting the cup gratefully.

              “Sure!” Marie exclaimed, smiling slightly, as she took her daughter's appetite as a good sign. Leading the way down the stairs, she called over her shoulder. “What would you like? I can scramble some eggs for you!”

              “Eggs sound great-- thanks, mom,” Elise replied, holding the bannister tightly to keep her balance as the muscles in her legs protested the steps.

              It wasn't until her plate was half empty and she felt much less beaten down that Elise asked, “Where's dad?”

              Her mother gave her a measured look over the rim of her coffee cup, and sighed. “Your father is at work right now. I called him before I brought your water up, to let him know you're awake and doing all right.”

              Elise raised her eyebrows as several different emotions ran through her. She was, at first, surprised and a little hurt that her dad wasn't there to watch over her. But those feelings quickly gave way to the rational assessment that it was probably best he wasn't there: experience had shown Elise that her father didn't react well to any problems involving his little girl. Her logic was tinged with bitterness as she realized that she preferred he be elsewhere while she recovered from her ordeal-- she didn't particularly have the energy to deal with his booming demands, his forceful opinions, and the way he loomed imposingly over her. She understood, in an abstract way, that he was trying to protect her, but as she'd told Alex, that only made it worse.

              She realized her mother was watching her and forced a small smile. “Thanks for breakfast-- lunch, I guess. I feel a lot better now.”

              “Do you?” Marie said quietly, setting her coffee cup down. “Elise, why did you run off like that? What happened? You scared us half to death.”

              Elise sighed, realizing she ought to have expected this. And yet, her mother was much calmer than usual, less pushy and aggressive, without any accusation in her voice; Elise got the impression that she was, for once, genuinely asking. Alex's words flashed through her mind again, reminding her that if what he said was true, her mother had the same abilities she did, the same capacity to empathize with other people. Elise had experienced how potent that could be firsthand; if her mother was willing to open up to her that way, too, perhaps they might finally be able to understand one another.

              “I told Alex, when we hung out this weekend,” she began softly, looking at her hands where they rested on the scrubbed wooden table of the breakfast nook. “I told him about what happened back in Allison Springs.” She heard her mother's soft intake of breath, but didn't look up from her intense study of her fingernails. After a moment, when she was sure she wouldn't be interrupted, she continued. “I guess, going to school on Monday, I was kind of paranoid... you know, that he would have told someone. A couple people were looking at me in homeroom, and it just felt weird... and I just panicked.” Once again, Elise made a conscious decision to edit the truth: whatever her feelings were on the things Alex had told her, it was all too new to try to explain to anyone else. She was mostly sure she believed him, if for no other reason than because of the simple certainty with which he had told her his story; however, she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't be able to tell her mother about vampires with the same confidence.

              After another moment's hesitation, Elise lifted her head and looked her mother in the eyes. “I can't keep pretending it didn't happen, mom. I know,” she held up a hand to forestall her mother's argument. “I know I dress differently, I act differently, I don't have friends, and all that is because it happened. But I feel like I can't even talk about it without getting in trouble-- that even if I wanted friends, I'd have to ask permission before I told them about it. You heard dad the other night-- I don't want that. I don't want skeletons in the closet and big family secrets. I'm paranoid, terrified that someone's going to find out!” She spoke rapidly and finished out of breath, surprised at her outburst. Everything she'd just said was true, she realized with some shock-- she'd just never really thought about it consciously before.

              Marie was frowning at her. “I don't know what you want me to say, Elise. Do you want to see another therapist?” Elise laughed derisively, unable to help herself. “Well then what? I wish I could change what happened! I wish I could have protected you--”

              “Stop,” Elise said firmly, grabbing her mother's hand as she understood where this train of thought was going. “I don't blame you, and I never have. I've just always sort of felt... like you blamed me.” She wanted to look down, but forced herself to continue to meet her mother's eyes. This was something she'd been wanting her parents to understand for years, and she wasn't about to diminish the moment she finally got the words out by lacking the confidence to back them up.

              It was Marie who looked away, pulling her hand gently from her daughter's grasp. “You know, it's funny,” she said softly. “I didn't think I did until two days ago. You were gone, the school had called, your father and I were frantic-- and all I could think was, 'How could she do this to us again?' And then that boy of yours showed up at the door looking for you, and I just screamed at him. I blamed him for bringing all of this up again. And he...” she trailed off, fidgeting with her hands. Elise swore she could actually hear tears in her mother's voice.

              “He what?” She asked quietly.

              “He shouted at us. It's so stupid, because he's just a kid, and your father was standing right there with me, but I've never been more afraid of anyone in my life. He started talking about how we've been pretending that everything is fine, and pretending that you're happy, but how we blame you for having to move. And after he left, your father and I looked at each other and we realized that he was right.” Marie looked up, finally meeting Elise's gaze once more. “I know I've said the words before, but I want you to know that I mean them: none of this was your fault.” She bit her lip, a strangely childish gesture of uncertainty that was odd for Elise to witness in her own mother. “I think... I think I need to listen to you a little bit more,” Marie nearly whispered.

              For just a moment, Elise sat still, dumbfounded. Then her brain caught up with her ears and her body caught up with her brain, and she launched herself around the table to wrap her arms around her mother. “Thank you,” she whispered into her mom's hair, tears tightening her throat. “That's exactly what I need.”

              An hour later, Elise heard the knocking from the nest she'd made herself in the den. She was still in her pajamas, and had dragged the comforter down off of her bed to cuddle up on the couch. Her intention had been to finish
Great Expectations
for English class, but she'd quickly found that right now she just couldn't focus on Pip's issues. Instead, she'd grabbed a small stack of some of her favorite comfort books and piled them on the floor next to her. She was several chapters into
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
when someone knocked on the front door.

              She was reluctant to get up, especially if it was just going to be UPS or kids selling magazines or whatever, so she was glad when she heard her mom's “day off” clogs thumping down the hallway to the foyer. She caught the quiet murmur of voices, but didn't pay much attention-- after all, Harry's first Quidditch match was far more important than the guy coming to read the meter, or whoever was there. A few moments later, however, Elise wished she had eavesdropped, when the sound of a throat being cleared made her look up to see Alex standing in the doorway.