Haven (10 page)

“Interesting,” he murmured. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

“And anyway, after my dad died . . . well, it somehow makes me feel closer to him.”

“So it’s just you and your mom now?”

“Stepmom,” I corrected. “Long story. Anyway, it’s my turn.”

“What is it you want to know?”

So much, I realized. I knew almost nothing about him. “For starters, how about where you’re from.”

“From Dorset, England,” he answered. “At least, originally.”

“Huh. I guess that explains the little bit of an accent.”

“You’ve got a good ear,” he said with a laugh. “I thought I’d lost it entirely by now.”

“Where are your parents now? Here in the States?”

“No, they’re long dead,” he said, sounding strangely dispassionate.

“I’m sorry.” We had that in common, then. Both of us orphans. “No brothers or sisters?” I assumed he was like the rest of us—an only child.

“Actually, I had two younger sisters. But they’re dead as well.”

“That’s terrible.” I didn’t know what else to say. His whole family, gone?

He shrugged. “It was a very long time ago.”

Still, I felt badly for prying. I knew how it felt to lose a family member and then have people prod you for details.

“You loved your father very much, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice soft.

I swallowed hard, amazed that I was even considering talking about it. “Yeah, I did. I still can’t believe he’s gone. I mean, he used to be gone for months at a time, on assignment. But he always came back.” My throat tightened, and I forced myself to continue. “Until the one time he didn’t.”

“He was a journalist?”

I blinked up at the night sky, watching as the last wisps of clouds drifted away from the moon, leaving it entirely exposed. “Yeah,” I answered at last. “A correspondent for a cable news network.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Afghanistan. We didn’t hear from him for nearly a month and the network had no idea where he was or who had him. And then the kidnappers . . . they released a . . . a videotape.”

“But you already knew, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, shuddering at the memory of the horrific vision.

“There are some things in this world that are worse than monsters, aren’t there?”

I nodded. It was a strange thing to say, but he was right. “He was so mad at me when he left; he thought I was being selfish. I had seen everything—his kidnapping, his murder. I
tried to tell him, tried to convince Patsy to make him stay, but he was furious. Said I shouldn’t scare Patsy like that, that she had enough to worry about with him away.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Violet.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “I should have done more to stop him.”

“What could you possibly have done to stop him? Some people don’t want to believe anything beyond the ordinary. They walk right into danger with their eyes wide open, refusing to see what’s right in front of them.”

I knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. “I should have
made
him see.”

“He loved his job, didn’t he?” Aidan asked.

“He did. Maybe more than he loved me.” As I said it, I realized that
that
was what was really bothering me, what was eating away at my insides.

He shook his head. “C’mon, Vi, do you really believe that?”

A single tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of one hand. “I guess not.”

“What about your stepmother?” he asked. “What did she say when she realized that you had been right?”

“Are you kidding? She never believed it. I tried to tell her, tried to explain about the visions, but all that got me was a visit to the shrink. I guess she convinced herself it was just
a coincidence. It’s not like it’s unheard of, what happened. Something like that was always a possibility, whether I had foreseen it or not.”

“I suppose so. But I saw what happened to you when you had a vision your first day here. You stumbled, and sort of zoned out or something. How did you explain that all those years?”

“Trust me, they dragged me to a ton of doctors. Never could find a medical explanation, so they just called it a mild seizure disorder and left it at that.”

“And you were okay with them thinking that?”

“It was either that or a padded cell. The rest of the world isn’t like Winterhaven, you know,” I said sharply.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been here long enough that I sometimes forget.”

I took a deep breath.

“So, where do you live now?” I finally asked. “When you’re not here, I mean.”

“I have a place in Manhattan,” he answered.

“Alone?” He wasn’t an adult; he had to have some sort of legal guardian or something.

“I’ve got Trevors,” he clarified, and I could hear a trace of amusement in his voice.

He rolled onto his side, facing me. “Trevors is . . . like family.”
Next thing I knew, his cool fingers were on my face, tracing a line from my temple down to my chin. I just held my breath, not moving a muscle, waiting for him to say something. I could feel my own heart beating fast and furious, and I wondered if his was doing the same.

Finally he spoke. “I don’t understand it, Violet. You’re both a part of my past and a part of my future. You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I think so,” I murmured. I was definitely feeling . . .
something
. I reached out and touched the cut on his forehead, my fingertip barely brushing the wound. “How’d you get this?” I asked, sensing his body tense beneath my touch.

There was a trace of amusement in his voice when he answered. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, I hope the other guy looks worse,” I teased.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“You’re really good at avoiding questions, aren’t you?” I said with a laugh.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who dodges questions. You never really told me what you saw in your vision today.”

“Do I have to?” I didn’t really want to think about it, much less discuss it.

He nodded. “It’s kind of . . . important.”

With a sigh, I relented. “Okay, fine. You were walking down
a foggy street in Manhattan. A dark, seedy street, and I was following you. That’s about it,” I said, hedging.

“No, there’s more. You have to tell me exactly what you saw that frightened you so badly.”

I shook my head, trying to tamp down my rising panic. “No, I can’t. Besides, you can read my mind. You tell
me
what I saw.”

“I can’t see your visions,” he snapped, sounding frustrated.

My breath hitched in my chest. “Is that the real reason you brought me here tonight? To hear about my visions?”

His hand found mine. “No. I brought you here because I knew you would appreciate this place as much as I do, and because I wanted to spend some time with you. Still, I wish you would tell me exactly what you saw.” His fingers were on my face again, and I felt myself relenting. I knew he was somehow manipulating me, and yet I was powerless to stop it.

I sighed in defeat. “Like I said, I was following you down some seedy street. And then, I don’t know, there was a flash of movement, or something. I called out your name and you turned around. There was . . . blood.” I swallowed hard, unable to go on.

“Blood where?”

I shrugged, not really wanting to remember. “I don’t know, your face, I think. That’s it, that’s all I saw.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice firm.

And just like that, my fear evaporated. Disappeared. I sat up, shaking my head in frustration. “Stop it, Aidan. Stop manipulating me like that.”

He sat up too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I don’t know exactly what it is you do, what powers you have, but—”

“We don’t like to call them that here at Winterhaven,” he said, doing a perfect impression of Mrs. Girard.

“I’m serious,” I said, and I meant it.

“I know you are.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away, refusing to be placated.

“Well, then, whatever it is you’re doing, stop it. I mean it, Aidan. I can’t . . . I won’t hang out with you if you’re going to do that.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just a . . . an old habit. I won’t do it again.”

“You promise?” I asked.

“I give you my word,” he said, and I believed him. I
wanted
to believe him. “Let’s just forget about it for now and enjoy what time we have left till curfew, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed. Relieved, I reclined back against the blankets.

After a second or two, he lay back down beside me. “It’s
really beautiful tonight,” he said. “I’m glad you came.”

And just like that, everything was back to normal between us. Not because he was manipulating me, but because it
was
. I turned my head toward him; his profile was illuminated by the light of the moon. Just one glance, and my heart started to race. I was crushing on him big-time, I realized. Recognizing the train of my thoughts, I struggled to erect the wall protecting them, concentrating hard as I tried to remember everything Sandra had taught me.

“Hey,” came Aidan’s voice beside me, sounding surprised. “That’s much better. I think you’re starting to get the hang of it.”

If not for his quiet chuckle, I might have believed him.

I
slept right through breakfast the next morning and was forced to make do with a stale Danish and coffee from the vending machine in the dorm lounge. I ate quickly, figuring I didn’t have much time till Cece and her posse showed up, ready to prod me for details about the night before.

When I got up to leave, my gaze drifted over to the mail cubbies beside the bookshelves. I hadn’t checked my mail in days, I realized—not that I was expecting anything. Still, I brushed the pastry crumbs from my jeans and hurried over, surprised to see a small, square package there in my box. I smiled, recognizing Lupe’s handwriting.

Lupe was more of a companion to Gran than a housekeeper these days, but try telling Lupe that. She took pride in doing whatever she could manage with her arthritic hands— drying dishes, ironing. It was impossible to think of Gran without picturing Lupe right there beside her. I tore off the paper, suddenly overwhelmed with homesickness.

Inside I found a lavender silk drawstring bag. Puzzled, I pulled it open and shook the contents out into my hand. I stared down in surprise at a delicate silver crucifix, hanging on a long silver chain. Clearly, the necklace was new. It still had the Neiman Marcus tag attached, which meant it wasn’t cheap, either.

Why would Lupe send me this? She was Catholic, but I wasn’t. Our family was Episcopalian, and not particularly religious.

Stranger still was the note she’d enclosed. All it said, in wobbly script, was,
Please indulge a silly old woman and promise me that you will wear this at all times. May the good Lord protect you.
And then she’d signed her name. Very, very odd.

I pulled off the tag with shaking fingers and clasped the chain around my neck, tucking the cross under my shirt. It wasn’t exactly my style, but it made me feel closer to Gran and Lupe.

Suddenly there was a steady stream of kids coming through
the door, laughing and shouting as they headed for the couches by the TV or down the hall toward the rooms. Breakfast must be over, I realized. Time for me to go.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough.

“Hey, Violet!” Cece called out. “There she is, the sleepyhead.”

I looked up and saw her there by the door, Sophie, Kate, and Marissa trailing behind, looking almost predatory. Like lionesses on the scent of blood. In seconds they had me surrounded.

“Too bad you slept in,” Marissa said with a sly smile. “Guess who we saw in the dining hall?”

“Really?” I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. Somehow I wanted to imagine him lounging lazily in bed, relishing the memories like I had.

“No,” Kate answered. “She’s just kidding. But the look on your face was priceless. I take it someone had a good time last night.”

“Hopefully not as good a time as you and Jack had,” Marissa muttered half under her breath, and I saw Kate shoot her a deadly glare.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Cece said, tipping her head toward the door. “Give the girl some privacy, will you.”

Everyone nodded, and soon I was following them back
down the hall toward our room. The door closed behind us, and they all turned toward me expectantly.

Kate was the first to speak. “Okay, spill it.”

Marissa plopped down on Cece’s bed. “We can’t stand the suspense any longer.”

But what to tell them? I took a deep breath, considering all my options. I finally decided to play it safe. Keep it simple. “Well, we mostly just sat and talked, but it . . . it was nice.”

“Go on,” Sophie prodded.

“Yeah, what did he want to show you?” Marissa asked.

“Just someplace on campus. A place he likes to hang out. It was quiet and private, and . . . well, we went there and talked.”

Cece was nearly bouncing on the bed beside me. “And? Come on, dish.”

“And he asked me to meet him tonight after dinner,” I added, hoping that would be enough. What else could I say, really? That it had been the best date I’d ever had? That I was completely and utterly smitten? No, that was way too embarrassing to admit.

“Wow.” Marissa looked impressed. “I still can’t believe it— Aidan Gray, out on a date. With a girl,” she added.

“Oh, give it a rest, Marissa,” Kate said. “Just because he never asked
you
out doesn’t mean he bats for the other team. Jack says he’s incredibly smart, really intense. He spends way
too much time in the lab, though. Pretty much all this free time, from what Jack says.”

Just then my cell phone, still plugged into its charger on my desk, began to ring. I hadn’t given him my number, but I knew by now that that didn’t matter.

“Is that him?” Cece asked when I went over to the phone and looked at the caller ID screen. I didn’t recognize the number, and hope swelled in my chest as I hit the answer button.

“Hello?” I squeaked, hating that I had an audience.