Haven (28 page)

“Sure.”

I heard a click, and she was gone.

As I put away my phone, I looked up at the calendar above my desk. Only two weeks till spring break. I was really looking forward to getting away from here for a little while, going to Atlanta. After all, the weeks since Valentine’s Day had dragged on, one day no different from the next. I got up, went to class, then came back to my room and studied. Each night I went to fencing practice, then came back and went to bed, where I slept a dreamless sleep, and awoke to start it all over again.

My friends flocked around me, creating a protective circle, trying their best to distract me from what seemed like nothing more than a bad breakup. Kate had gotten a karaoke machine for Christmas, and we spent a lot of time holed up in Cece’s and my room, taking turns with the mic. I reveled in the normalcy
of it. When we weren’t belting out tunes, we were watching DVDs or hanging out in the café.

Just normal stuff. Well, normal if you ignored the fact that Kate could pass around the mic telekinetically, and Marissa could somehow predict which song would pop up next, even with the machine set to shuffle.

Still, I saw Aidan every day, twice a day. First-period history and fifth-period anthropology. He no longer sat next to me, but I was always painfully aware of his eyes watching me, studying me. Most days I half-expected to hear his voice in my head—asking for forgiveness, asking to meet me after class, chastising me for abandoning my so-called training. Something. Anything.

But it was complete and total radio silence. A little unnerving, really, but by the beginning of March, I was getting used to it. And even weirder, I didn’t have a single vision in all those weeks. Not one. I couldn’t explain it, except that maybe I’d somehow turned off a switch in my mind, that part of my brain that operated my sixth sense. I convinced myself it was for the best.

But I couldn’t help the anxiety that crept into my heart as spring approached. I tried to push it aside, but it was there, niggling at a dark corner of my brain.

Just because I wasn’t still having the vision didn’t mean it
wasn’t going to happen, just as I’d seen it. Maybe I’d made a mistake in cutting Aidan out of my life, or maybe that was just my hormones talking. At some point, though, we were going to have to talk about it, to plan for what was to come.
If
it was to come.

It was all so confusing.

A knock sounded on the door, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“Miss McKenna?” It was Mrs. Girard. “Are you in,
chérie
?”

I hurried to the door, my heart pounding. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” she said with a smile. “Dr. Blackwell would like to see you in his office, that’s all.”

“Am I in some kind of trouble?” As far as I knew, I hadn’t broken any rules recently. In fact, I’d been a model student these past few weeks.

Mrs. Girard smiled a warm, grandmotherly smile. “Not at all,
chérie
. It’s just a chat he wants, nothing more.”

“Oh, okay. Um, do I need to bring anything?” A stupid question, but my mind was spinning. What did Dr. Blackwell want with me?

“Nothing but yourself. It’s chilly in the corridors, though. You might want a sweater.”

Five minutes later I was standing with Mrs. Girard just
outside Dr. Blackwell’s closed door, wearing my favorite black hoodie and making sure the wall was up around my mind, protecting my thoughts.

“I’m sure he’ll be right with you,” she said. “I’ve got to scoot off to a meeting.”

“No problem,” I murmured, wiping my damp palms on my jeans.

Almost immediately the door swung open. “Come in, Miss McKenna,” the headmaster called out, and nervously I obeyed. This felt wrong, all wrong.

I closed the door behind me and took my usual seat across from his desk, tucking my shaking hands under my thighs.

For a moment Dr. Blackwell just watched me, his lips curving into a smile. “I hope by now you know you have nothing to fear from me,” he said at last. “My students are, first and foremost, my priority.”

I could only nod.

He steepled his hands, resting his chin on his fingertips. “I will be frank with you, and tell you upfront that I asked to see you because I am worried about Mr. Gray.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. What was wrong with Aidan?

“I mean, Miss McKenna, that Aidan is in serious danger. Mortal danger, as you have no doubt foreseen. You have the
gift of precognition, do you not? He must put aside his work on the cure immediately. I cannot say this any more plainly.”

“I can’t make him do that,” I said, shaking my head. “His research is important to him. There’s no way he’ll stop working on it.”

“He will if you tell him to. And I’m asking you to do just that.” He dropped his hands into his lap and leaned back in his chair, frowning now. “Let me put it this way—Aidan will never survive to see a cure. If you care about him, if you want to see him live, then you must convince him to abandon his work at once.”

And then I felt it—something weird, something intrusive. Like tentacles from Dr. Blackwell’s mind reaching out into mine. He was trying to use some form of mind control on me. Focusing as hard as I could, I pushed back. Immediately I felt his retreat.

So I had the power to resist it, then!

“Do you really think Julius will kill him if he doesn’t stop?” I asked, testing the waters, wanting to see just how much he knew. Because that was all Aidan had told him— that I’d had a vision that indicated Julius was behind the destruction in the lab.

“Julius won’t. He’ll make sure that
you
do, Miss McKenna. I thought you realized that.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t speak. I’m sure the color drained from my face.
He knows I’m a Sâbbat— and he knows what Julius is planning. But how?

“You must do as I ask,” he continued on, his voice insistent. “There is no other way. I hope I can count on you. Aidan is like a son to me, and I cannot bear the thought—” He broke off, tears dampening his silver eyes. Removing his glasses, he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. “You must excuse me for getting so emotional.”

“No, that’s . . . that’s okay.” I swallowed hard, wanting desperately to get out of that office.

“I wish it did not have to be this way. But what choice remains? Aidan must never know we’ve had this conversation. I know you’ve learned to guard your thoughts. He would never forgive my interference, you see.”

Again, I just nodded.

“Very well. I won’t keep you, then. I hope you’ll carefully consider what I’ve said. After all, his very life depends on it.”

I felt it again, the tentacles reaching toward my mind. I tried to resist, but it caught me off guard this time and I couldn’t quite focus my energies. I found myself nodding. “I will,” I said, almost involuntarily.

“Good, good,” he said with a smile. “I knew I could count on you.”

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, I let myself out of his office and hurried back to my room, relieved to find it empty.

He knew.
I paced back and forth across the room, more terrified than ever now. Was he somehow involved in Julius’s plot? I shook my head, confused. Maybe Dr. Blackwell had discovered the plot himself and was just trying to protect his protégé; maybe I was reading way more into it than I should.

I felt the pull toward Aidan, felt an inexplicable desire to follow Dr. Blackwell’s orders, to go insist that Aidan abandon his work. But I knew that the headmaster was manipulating me—using some kind of mind control, trying to bend me to his will.
Resist it,
I told myself. I had to follow my own instincts; they were usually right.

Weren’t they? Oh my God, I didn’t know, wasn’t sure anymore. What if I was wrong—what if Blackwell had been telling the truth, and trying to convince Aidan to give up his work was the only way to save him? Nothing had prepared me for a dilemma like this. I didn’t know who to believe anymore, who to trust. I felt alone and scared and . . .

And I have to tell Aidan.
The answer came to me, just like that. I stopped pacing, tried to slow my racing heart. It didn’t matter how angry I was at Aidan, how hurt I felt about the whole Isabel thing. My instincts told me to trust him, and
that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to ignore Blackwell’s threats, and tell Aidan everything.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. After all, it had been a while since I’d used the telepathy.

Aidan?
I called out.

No answer.

I know you can hear me. This is important. Meet me at the chapel, okay? Now.

I ran through the driving rain, clutching my raincoat around me. Twice my hood fell back, and twice I tugged it back into place, pushing wet hair from my eyes as I did so. I silently cursed myself for leaving my umbrella in my room.
Stupid.

Breathless, I pulled open the chapel’s heavy door and raced inside, hurrying down the aisle toward the altar. In minutes I was climbing up the stairs at the back of the chapel, dripping rainwater in my wake.

At last I reached the loft, dimly lit by several sputtering candles. Aidan’s back was to me; he was just standing there, staring at the wall. His arms were folded and the same striped scarf he’d worn my first day at Winterhaven was draped around his neck.

“What happened?” he asked, his back still toward me.

“Blackwell,” I answered, still trying to catch my breath.

He turned to face me, his arms still folded across his chest. “What about him?”

I spoke quickly. “He knows that I’m a
Sâbbat
. He knows about the plot—everything. I think he’s . . . he’s somehow involved.”

Aidan shook his head. “Impossible.”

“Just listen,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “He called me to his office just now and told me that you’d never live to see a cure, that I had to convince you to stop your work. He was trying to control my mind; I felt it.”

Aidan just stood there, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t say a word in reply.

“You don’t believe me?” I asked, my voice rising in surprise.

“I think you must have misunderstood, Violet.” His voice was cold, clipped.

“I know what I heard, Aidan,” I snapped. “And that’s not all. He told me not to tell you about our conversation. Gave me some story about how you wouldn’t like him interfering, but I don’t believe it.”

Again Aidan said nothing. He just continued to stare at me like I’d lost my mind.

“I swear I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to
you,
after all.” I had to get that dig in.

“You’re implying, of course, that
I’ve
lied to
you,
” he answered.

“Do we have to have this argument again? Lied, withheld information, whatever you want to call it, it’s not important now.” A shiver worked its way down my spine, and I realized I was scared. Terrified. All this time I’d thought Dr. Blackwell was protecting Aidan, keeping him safe. What if he was really leading him into some sort of trap? And what if I was a part of that trap?

Aidan ran a hand through his hair. “This doesn’t make any sense. Blackwell’s never been anything but supportive of my work. Why would he turn on me now, after all this time?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong.”

“But you’re never wrong, are you?”

I took a tentative step toward him. “So . . . what do we do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, sounding exhausted. Defeated. “This is uncharted territory, even for me.”

“I could try to coax another vision,” I suggested. “You know, see if I can find out anything about Blackwell’s involvement. Sandra’s been trying to teach me how, though I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said, looking hopeful. “Is there anything in particular that seems to bring them on?”

I searched my memory. “A lot of the time I’m thinking about you when I have one. But when it was Patsy, that time before her crash? I think it was because it was just about to happen.”

The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. “So, you’re usually thinking about me when it happens, huh? Don’t know if I should be flattered by that or offended.”

“Probably both,” I said.

“So”—he cleared his throat—“what kind of mental state would you say you’re in at the time? Because you probably need to be able to get yourself there if you want to bring on a vision.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Confused, upset? That’s usually how I’m feeling when I’m thinking about you.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “That’s just great, Violet. Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I reached for his hand, taking it in my own. “But you know what’s weird? I haven’t had a single vision since . . . well, since we broke up.”

“Broke up? Is that what you call it?”

“I’m just saying that they stopped when we stopped hanging out,” I clarified.

He gave my hand a little squeeze before dropping it. “So you’re saying maybe I’m some kind of trigger for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself.

“You’re cold,” he said, reaching for my raincoat. “Take this off; it’s soaking wet.” He helped me out of it and tossed it to the ground, then removed his scarf and pulled his dark gray sweater over his head.

“Here,” he said, holding the sweater out to me. “Put it on.”

My fingers trembling, I took it and pulled it over my head. It was soft, probably cashmere, I realized, and so fine a knit that I knew it must have cost a fortune.

“You were right, Violet,” Aidan said softly. “I should have told you about Isabel. About the resemblance. But I hope you understand why I didn’t.”

I could only nod. The anger I’d felt toward him had dissipated, reduced now to a dull ache of disappointment.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he continued. “Though now I realize it’s probably better this way.”

I flinched at his words. “How is it better this way?” I asked.

“Because it’s dangerous to fight our natural instincts. After all, it’s only a matter of time—”

“Till what, Aidan? Till we start acting like enemies? Till we start trying to take each other out?”