Gravity (31 page)

“So my father is real?  I mean he’s my
actual
father, not some…illusion?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Some of what he said goes along with what you’re saying.  Some…not so much.”

Julia simply smiled, not the least bit bothered by Trace’s insinuation.

“Of course it does.  In most lies—at least the good ones—there is a modicum of truth.  It makes them much easier to remember and much harder to detect.”

“That’s not helping your case at all.”

“It wasn’t meant to.”

“So what’s your take on my father then?  What is his end game, if not to help me?”

“I don’t have a ‘take’ on him.  I know what I know.  Period.”

“And what is it, exactly, that you know?”

Julia narrowed her eyes on Trace as she scrutinized him.  “Are you sure you want to know?  Sometimes knowing can be worse than wondering.  And you won’t be able to put this toothpaste back into the tube.”

“I’m aware of that.  But I want to know.  I
need
to know.  And then I’ll decide for myself what to believe.”

“Fair enough,” she said, her smile once again almost admiring.  She cleared her throat.  “Your mother actually died trying to keep you out of this life.  She didn’t want you exposed to the magic at Two Lakes because your father had found out somehow, maybe the same way I did, that you were to be bound to the oracle.  He—”

“How did you find out?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

Julia’s expression sobered.  “There are some things I hope you never have to know, Peyton, things I hope you never have to find out, much less experience.  In some instances, knowledge can change your life for the worse.  That’s the case here.  Please don’t ask me again.”  I sat, mouth agape, firmly chastised, waiting for her to continue.  “As I was saying, Trace your father is very high in the Order of the Moon.  For him to control the three of you would be like giving the President of the United States control over the entire world’s armies.  You three are
that
significant, significant enough for him to kill his wife and risk using very dark magic to conceal you within Rebekah’s home and life.”

“Wait,” Trace interrupted, shaking his head as he struggled to understand what Julia was saying.  I was deeply afraid that I knew exactly what she meant.  “Are you saying that my father is actually a…a…a
bad guy?”

Julia’s brow wrinkled almost imperceptibly, assuring me that, though she was stern, she wasn’t completely without feeling when delivering such news.

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Why would he say he was releasing me from magic and then tell me that Rebekah was part of the conspiracy?  Why would he turn on the person that he himself, supposedly, planted?”

“To make you trust him, of course.  Who better than he to know all the holes in a story that he himself concocted?”

 The muscle in Trace’s jaw twitched in displeasure, but he said nothing.  What could he say? 

“But we’re talking about my father here. I’ve known the man most of my life.  You don’t think I’d know if he was lying?”

“Have you?  Have you really known him most of your life?  Or do you just think you have?”

“Of course I have.  I have hundreds of mem…ories…” Trace’s voice drifted off as realization dawned.

“Now you see.  He has implanted in your mind, in your memory, that which he wanted there.  Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But he took away…”

“Maybe he did, but he replaced it with something else.  Did you notice any strange things following his ‘release’ of you?”

Trace’s brow wrinkled and I saw his eyes dart quickly to me where I sat to his left.  I knew what he was thinking.

“Yes.  Some things were definitely…different.”

“And now?”

“Now, I feel almost back to normal.”

“That’s because, as Peyton is exposed to more power, more witches, more wielders of dark magic, she is able to suppress it in you when you are near, when you two are joined in the way that you should be.  It is a delicate balance, the way you three work with each other.  You must learn to use it to your advantage, use it to the best of your ability.  It could make you practically invincible.”  Julia paused, a ghost of a frown skittering across her brow then quickly dissolving.  “But if you don’t master it, it could put you in grave danger.”

A tense silence hung over the room like the glistening blade of a guillotine.  But then Lacey came to the rescue.

“No offense, Peyton, but I’ve never wanted to be you
less. 
I think you’re vexed.
”

I snorted.

“You mean hexed?”

She waved her hand as she so often did, unconcerned.  “Whatever.  You know what I mean.  Basically, you’re cursed, chica.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Luckily, I like a challenge and loving you two,” she said, hiking a thumb toward me and a thumb toward Brady, “Best.  Challenge.  Ever.”

I returned the grin that curved her lips and lit her eyes.  “That’s right, Lace, lucky us.”

She playfully bumped me with her shoulder.  “Now, let’s go kick some adult ass!”

Although the mood was definitely a bit lighter, no one said a word or made a move at Lacey’s prompt.  Finally, Julia spoke.

“Go on.  Go talk to them and make them listen.  Make them understand what’s at stake.  As for you,” she said, turning her attention to Trace.  “Search your heart.  Search your gut.  You’ll know the truth and it will make all the difference in the world.  None of us will come out of this unscathed.  The most we can hope for is to make it out alive, in one piece, with as few losses as we can manage.”  She paused.  It was a meaningful space that gave her next words even more emphasis.  “Protect her.  She is the key and the only happiness you’ll ever really know.”

Trace nodded once, curtly, but when he turned to me, his eyes shone with the truth of what she’d said.  We
were
meant to be together—in every way, in every sense of the word.  He was mine and I was his.  I just hoped he was ready to embrace it now.

“All right, get going.  If you need me, I’ll help you as much as I can, whatever is within my power.”

********

Like sheep willingly walking to the slaughterhouse, the four of us piled back into Brady’s Jeep and headed for school. Just after Brady pulled out of the driveway, Trace reached over to weave his fingers through mine.  Without once glancing in my direction, he held my hand all the way to school. 

The trip was quiet, pensive.  I doubted any of us knew what to say, so we opted for saying nothing. 

By the time we got there, surprisingly, there was a huge group of students gathered in the parking lot.  As I let Trace help me out of the Jeep, I was pretty sure that every senior in our entire class was present and accounted for, a fact I found equal parts worrisome and bizarre.  Luckily, our class was fairly small, so there weren’t more than a hundred people or so in the gathering.

When the four of us approached, the group shifted, forming a semi-circle around us.  No one spoke; they all just watched me as if they knew I had something important to say.  And supposedly I did.

Your people,
I thought, Julia’s words echoing through my head.  These were my people, my responsibility.  My role in their lives, in this mission was bigger than I ever could’ve imagined.  I didn’t want it, but no one else could to it.  Therefore, I had no choice.  I had to step up.  Such was the nature of responsibility.  And it sucked.

Just before I parted my lips—to say what, I didn’t know—the whispers began, stopping me as effectively as someone placing their hand over my mouth. 

There, in front of my friends and my peers, I stood quietly and I listened—to voices they couldn’t hear, with ears they couldn’t see.

Several minutes later, when I was finally permitted to speak, the words surprised even me.

“Not here.  We need to go to the meadow.”

“Now?” Brady asked, puzzled.

“Now.”

Strangely, he was the only person to question our direction.  All the others muttered for a moment about who was riding with whom, but then they divided up into cars and lined up behind Brady’s Jeep.  Patiently, they waited for us to get in and lead the way.

The trip out of town was as quiet as the trip to the school had been.  Also just like the trip to school, Trace held my hand, his strength like a soothing poultice to my raw nerves. 

As I considered the gesture, considered
him,
I realized that Trace was receiving some small bit of comfort from me as well.  I could feel his unease permeating the air around us and I was glad that he could draw solace from me.  But still, it seemed that I was the main beneficiary of our connection.  I knew that I actually
needed
his presence if I expected to survive what lay ahead.  I doubted my presence was nearly as vital to him.

Trace was saving my life.  Every time he touched me, every time he neared me, every minute he loved me, he was saving me.  At least I hope he loved me.  I hoped that was what all this was about—love.  Eternal love. Unconditional love.  The kind of love that people fight wars for and lay down their lives for.  That’s what I felt for Trace and I prayed that he felt the same way.

I fidgeted in my seat, growing more and more uncomfortable with the direction of my thoughts, especially when something so important lay just around the corner.  But it all seemed somehow less urgent, less dire than the possibility that Trace might not love me, that he might only feel some sort of strange loyalty or supernatural connection to me.  Nothing more.

I was watching the landscape whiz by, lost in thought, when Trace squeezed my hand. I turned to look at him and he smiled, a gesture meant to ease my troubled mind.  Likely it would have worked had he not been the reason for my present troubles in the first place.  Not that I could admit to that.  In the face of what was ahead, it sounded ridiculous even to my ears.

“What is it?”

I shrugged.

“Just got a lot on my mind.  This is so much bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Really?  You’re just now getting to that?  I thought it seemed pretty freakin’ awesome from the very beginning,” he teased, winking one golden eye at me.  My heart melted a little, as it always did when he flirted like that.  Dear God, how I loved him!

“You know what I mean.  I just don’t know if I’m the right person. If I’m strong enough.  I’m just…me, ya know?  I mean, I’m …”

Trace leaned toward me, his nose only inches from mine.

“You are amazing.  Every cell in your body, every hair on your head, every thought in your mind is perfect and strong and meant for this.  Don’t doubt it.  I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I smiled.  “Thanks, Trace. I just feel…oh, I don’t know.”

Shaking my head in exasperation, I turned to stare out the window again, but Trace used his other hand to turn my face back toward his. 

“I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t meant for this. It’s part of who we are.  It’s part of why we’re destined to be together.  You have to believe that.”

My heart and my brain had stopped on the part about him loving me.  He’d said it so casually, as if I should’ve known that he felt that way.  And maybe I should’ve.  But I hadn’t. No with a certainty anyway.  But now I did.  And I thought I might explode. 

“What?” he asked, frowning as he looked at me.