Instinct (8 page)

“Yeah,
everybody’s been great.” I shift slightly to the left. He tracks me with his
eyes, a hard glint hiding behind the mask of normalcy. I repress a shudder of
revulsion.

“Well, if you
need anything, come to me. I’ll be happy to help,” he says, lingering over the
word
help
as though savoring the taste on his tongue.

I manage a
weak, insincere smile. “Thanks.” I gesture toward the door. “Well, I gotta get
going.”

He shifts
slightly and waves for me to go. I slip past him, cringing away from his touch,
but my shoulder brushes his arm. I can’t be sure, but I think he sniffs my hair
as I pass.

“See you
tomorrow, Derry.”

“Yeah, see you,”
I stammer and take off down the hallway like my feet are on fire. If I go the
rest of my life without being within fifty feet of that man again, I will die
happy.

I make it to
the loop where parents wait to pick up their kids before I realize what a
mistake I’ve made. I told Mom this morning that she didn’t need to pick me up
since Nicole was going to give me the grand tour. She is no doubt at the store
now, not waiting patiently in the line of cars.

“Damn it!” I grumble,
stamping my foot. I dig out my phone and call her, but her voicemail comes on.

“I probably
won’t return your call,” her recorded voice cheerfully pierces my ears and I
hit end, knowing it’s useless to keep trying. She’s got her phone turned off,
probably sitting in her purse back in the storeroom. I try the store number,
and after ten rings she picks up.

            “I’m going to
overcharge this guy,” she says brightly and I bite back a smile. Mom has the
shopkeeper’s innate ability to sense which customers will pay more than
something is worth and those who know how to spot a price hike.

“Hey, Mom.
Nicole wasn’t at school today, so I don’t have a ride.”

There is a
pause and I hear the cash register slam shut. “It’s a little busy here. Can you
hang out for a bit? Or maybe get a ride with someone else?”

I sigh and
look around. Most of the cars in the student lot have cleared out, and I don’t
recognize any of the people still milling about. The sound of my mom’s voice is
muffled as she talks to a customer, her bubbly laugh suddenly grating on my
nerves.

“You know
what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Okay, Sweetie.
Call me if you need me,” she says distractedly and hangs up. I stare down at my
phone and fight the burn of tears behind my eyes. I just want to go home. I
don’t want to have to walk to the store; it’s at least four miles into town
from the school.

A loud
rumbling intrudes into my moment of despair and I glance up. A glossy black
motorcycle roars past me, swinging to a halt in front of the double doors to my
left, where the last students of the day are exiting to the parking lot. I
tense as Jake emerges and catches sight of the helmeted rider waiting at the
curb. He strides forward and waves his arms angrily, pointing past the school
in a clear message for the rider to go away. The guy on the bike abruptly straightens
and turns his helmeted head around until he faces me, his gaze powerful even across
the distance. I look away quickly, but my eyes are drawn back to the strange
pair in time to see Jake glaring in my direction and then shaking his head at
the rider. With a jerk of his head that seems almost dismissive, the rider revs
the bike and does a quick turn, leaving Jake behind to wave exhaust out of his
face as he heads toward a battered looking truck.

I shake off
whatever fascination I felt and concentrate on the fact that I must now walk
home. Before I can turn to head down the sidewalk leading to the road into
town, the outrageous growl of the bike surrounds me.

Glancing up, I
see the rider has stopped beside me and is looking me over from behind the
shaded visor of his helmet. I smile hesitantly, unsure of what he wants, and
without meaning to I return his appraising study. He is wearing a familiar
looking black pea-coat that outlines broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Lean
denim-clad legs hug the sides of the bike, and I watch as they shift to throw
the kickstand and the rider swings his other leg over. My heart is pounding
frantically now, and an overwhelming urge to run sweeps over me, my entire body
screaming flight.

He removes the
helmet and shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes, a midnight blue
dark enough to drown in. I gasp and take a step backward. It is he, the boy
from my nightmare, watching me with the same amused intelligence in his eyes, the
same feline grace to his stance.

“I am fear,”
he says, his voice delicious and deep, like dark coffee.  I just stare at him,
his truth too close to what he said in my dream. Even as dread drips down my
spine like melting ice, it is impossible to ignore this guy’s dangerously
appealing edge; the sharp angles that slash his features into a fierce beauty
no artist could even hope to sculpt. I take another step back. There is so much
peril here I can’t think straight.

His mouth
tilts up into a crooked smile. “Can you speak? Or do you just stare and back
away?” he asks wryly. I shake my head and take another step back, noting with
embarrassment that my hands are shaking. He glances at them and laughs
outright. My skin is vibrating.

“I’m guessing
you need a ride,” he says, glancing around at the departing cars. Out of the
corner of my eye I see Jake standing next to his truck, watching us from across
the lot.

Like an idiot
I say nothing, but stare down at my feet, hoping if I just continue to ignore
what’s happening I’ll look up and see my mom waiting for me.

“You’re afraid
of me, aren’t you?” he says quietly and I look up despite myself. He is still
exuding laughing confidence, but there is something in his eyes that is
wounded, a crack in the perfect veneer. It gives me the courage to answer.

“Maybe a bit.
You know you hit me with the door yesterday,” I finally answer, yanking my coat
sleeve up to display my bruised arm. His lips twitch and he obligingly looks at
the miniscule spot on my forearm. After a moment he reaches out and takes my
arm, fingers gingerly pushing the edges of my sleeve back. I am startled by the
warmth that scores my skin at his touch until I see the already forming bruises
he has exposed higher up on my arm. His entire countenance darkens as he interprets
the marks left from Jake’s rough handling. I jerk my arm away and take another
step back. My heart slams against my ribcage so hard it hurts.

“Who did
that?” he demands, his voice a stern threat. Inadvertently my eyes dart over to
where Jake is still standing by his truck and then I look my interrogator in
the eyes.

“It was an
accident.”

He looks at Jake
over his shoulder, his scowl deepening, jaw clenched in a punishing line. Jake
jumps into his truck as the boy in front of me shifts his gaze back, softening
his expression and loosening his lips into smile. I am mesmerized by the way
his mouth moves, like liquid marble, hard and fluid all at once.

“Hop on, I’ll
give you a ride,” he says, swinging back onto the bike and handing his helmet
to me. I take it without thinking and then laugh jerkily.

“What? No way.
I don’t even know you,” I protest, holding out the helmet. He ignores it and
laughs low, the sound brushing my ears like a feather.

“You’re right.
I’m Cole. I work at the restaurant across from your store. What’s your name?”

“Derry,” I
answer without thinking.

“Now you know
me. Hop on.” When I resist he sighs and points over his shoulder. “Look, it’s
either me or Jake the Ripper over there. Trust me; I’m a much safer bet.”

With a start,
I follow his gesture and see that Jake’s truck is idling at the end of the
sidewalk. The window is rolling down. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I
do not want to get into a car with Jake. I look Cole over again and watch as
his grin stretches, lightening his features into something more approachable,
less severely beautiful. Still, this is the boy who starred in my nightmares
last night, whose face was burned into my brain all day as the very image of
fear.

“We need to
talk anyway,” he says, interrupting my train of thought. “That’s why I came
here today. I know what you are.”

I look at him
sharply, forgetting my uncertainty as I taste the truth in his words. My skin
doesn’t tingle a bit, and I know he is being honest. The fear that has been
ruling my decisions today takes a backseat to curiosity as I grit my teeth, pull
the helmet on, and climb behind Cole.

“Hold tight,”
he says quietly, taking my hands and placing them on his stomach. Even through
the thick barrier of his coat, I feel the muscles in his abdomen contract as I
touch him and something deep in my core flares into burning life. Without
another word, Cole kicks the ignition and we fly forward, careening down the
road and leaving my doubts in the dust.

The frigid air
hits my face like a wall even through the visor of the helmet and I squeeze my
eyes shut so they don’t freeze. Wind whips through the lining of my coat, fusing
my bones with a deep, aching cold that makes me tighten my arms around the warm
body in front of me.  It’s my first time riding on a motorcycle, and with an
incredibly hot guy, but all I can think about is what kind of maniac rides a
cycle in the dead of winter?

“Let’s make a
pit stop,” Cole shouts over his shoulder and picks up speed, darting through
the light traffic punctuating our descent into town. The high school perches on
a flattened hilltop with a curving, steep incline of a road trailing down from it
with the same twisting unpredictability of a river. Each time I dare to open my
eyes a bit, I immediately slam them shut as the trees and houses blur past me
with nauseating speed.

“Can you slow
down?” I beg, not even a little ashamed of the panic in my voice. No sane
person would be anything but terrified in this situation.

Cole scoffs,
but gradually drops his speed until I feel safe enough to open my eyes again.
Though everything we pass still seems to be sprinting in the opposite
direction, it’s not with the same breakneck pace.

“Thanks,” I
say sincerely. He takes a hand off the handle bars and grabs my arm, pulling it
tighter around his waist.

“Don’t loosen
your grip too much. There’s no seatbelt holding you on,” he warns, and I strengthen
my hold on him until my entire body is pressed into the scratchy wool on his
back. He laughs again even as my skin hums a signal that he’s stretching the
truth. Realizing he is just messing with me so I’ll hold him tighter, I pull
away slightly and look around as we make the last curve into town.

Heavy clouds
hang over the mountains like a scowl and the scent of snow is on the air, a
crisp, biting taste that burns my throat pleasantly. The town is huddled
against the hills as though seeking shelter from the coming storm, the eroded
brick buildings pressed close together in defense. For a moment, I forget the
upheavals of the day and let the charged breeze caress me, the rapidly cooling
air no longer painful but alive, stinging my skin into wakefulness. I feel the
steady thrum of the engine beneath me and the accelerated pulse of the boy in
my arms and throw my head back in sudden exhilaration, a wild grin stretching
my mouth.

Cole pulls the
bike to a stop and cuts the engine, the quiet almost oppressive after the riot
of noise. I release him and pull off the helmet, shaking my hair free. He
turns, opening his mouth to speak, when he pauses, his breath catching and eyes
darkening in an expression I don’t recognize. I realize I am still grinning,
probably looking like a crazy person with my hair all disheveled, and I drop
the smile and paw self-consciously at the tangles. Cole gives his head a slight
shake and the familiar sardonic smile catches his lips.

            “I think you’re
beautiful,” he says and my heart swells and stutters before resuming its flow. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Your first
time?” he asks in a voice that would leer if it could.

I roll my eyes
and prepare some scathing remark, but honesty compels me to answer without
sarcasm. “Yeah. That was amazing,” I laugh, unable to pretend differently. A
light sparks in the shadowy blue of Cole’s eyes and for a moment we smile at
each other in perfect understanding.

The cough of
an abused engine startles me and I am rigid with alarm as Jake’s truck
materializes around the corner. Belatedly, I realize we are not in front of my
mom’s shop, but down the hill on the street that runs adjacent to the train
tracks. A small café advertising hot apple cider and pie waits to my left and I
remember Cole mentioning a pit stop.  A door slams and I flinch involuntarily. Cole
emits a jaded sigh as Jake strides toward us, a thunderous expression on his
face. The bruises on my arm throb in response to the anger that seems to
precede his every step.

“Calm down, Jake.
We’re just going in for some cider,” Cole calls, jumping off the bike, nearly
dislodging me in his haste. He moves to stand between me and the swiftly
approaching Jake.

“I’m barely in
control,” Jake barks, with a glance at me. Cole puts out a hand to prevent Jake
from getting any closer.      

Noticing the gesture,
Jake’s expression darkens, fury pouring off him in waves. “I told you to leave
her alone,” he growls, pointing at me. I am stunned by his reaction and
completely at a loss as to the reason for it. At the same time, I am more than
a little exasperated by the overtly masculine standoff playing out in front of
me. Two overdramatic boys hyped up on testosterone.

“Hey, standing
right here,” I interrupt sharply, and both boys shift their attention to me.
Seeing them stand next to each other, I can’t help but notice some similarities
in their appearance; a curve of the jaw, the shape of the nose, a way of
holding themselves.

“You stay out
of this,” Jake snarls before returning to Cole. My knees are nearly knocking at
the ferocity in his voice, but I draw in a breath and get ready to ream him up
one side and down the other. Cole beats me to it.

“Don’t talk to
her like that! If you’re pissed, be pissed with me. But back the hell off.”  Cole
fills his voice with a hardness I haven’t heard before. Jake narrows his eyes, his
body taut with hostility. I take a step back and he glances at me again. Seeing
me move closer to Cole, his expression falls and he presses his fists into his
head like he’s trying to push through to the other side.

“Damn it!” Jake
yells and spins around, leaping back into his truck and slamming the door with
a reverberating crash. A moment later the engine guns and the truck spins the
gravel of the parking lot as it tears away, the angry motor soon just a distant
echo. My shoulders sag in relief and I realize just how exhausted I am by the
entire day. Too many unexpected difficulties and challenging people. I think I
might skip going to the store and go home instead. A nap sounds pretty good
right now.

“I’m sorry
about that, Derry. Jake can be a little…out of control sometimes,” Cole is
saying, his voice gentle and concerned, totally clashing with the bad boy, rebel
without a cause look he’s sporting. I can’t understand him at all, and I
definitely can’t comprehend what it is about me that has Jake so worked up.

“I really
don’t like him,” I say vehemently. Cole lifts the corners of his lips in
another of those mercuric smiles that make his austere face so engaging.

“Oh, he can be
alright. He’s just got a stick up his ass.”

I frown at Cole,
recalling my earlier impression of similarities with Jake. “How do you know
him?”

With a wry
twist to his smile, Cole takes the helmet from me. “He’s my brother,” he
answers simply. Though I am a little taken aback, his declaration isn’t a
complete surprise to me.

“Oh. Sorry,” I
say, not sure what I’m apologizing for, but feeling it is somehow necessary.

Cole laughs shortly
and holds out a hand to me. I hesitate for a moment, but then place my hand in
his, trying to ignore the thrill that races up my spine when his fingers close
around mine. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, I know what he’s like.” He
leads me to the door of the café and then pauses. “He doesn’t mean to scare
you, you know. But you should be careful around him. He’s not always…safe,” Cole
says enigmatically, and pushes open the door.

The warmth of
the interior is welcome after our chilly plunge down the hill and any protest I
might have made about being dragged here by Cole is swallowed up in bliss when
the waiter puts down two mugs of hot cider in front of us. The heady scent of
apple and cinnamon fills my senses and I am instantly at ease. A song that was
popular five years ago plays on a jukebox in the corner, the singer’s voice
raspier than natural through the blown out speakers. There is something
comforting about the laziness of the man at the cash register, who leans back
in his chair reading a tattered paperback, the slow but efficient movements of
the single waiter as he goes back and forth between the three occupied tables,
smiling and calling each customer by name, knowing their orders before they
even speak. I experience a sudden sense of belonging, as though my life in
Williamsburg was only a stopping off point until I found my way here, to this
town that can’t make up its mind about which era it belongs to.

“What are you
thinking?” Cole asks, interrupting my train of thought. I look at him with more
focus and feel my heart sputter just a bit as I take in the tender expression
in his eyes, the soft curve of his lips as they hover over his drink.

“I like it
here,” I reply honestly, at the same time wondering what it is about Cole that
makes me feel safe now, when yesterday his glance paralyzed me with fear. Being
so close to him, I can feel a fragile thread connecting us, an unexpected
magnetism, two polar opposites suddenly switched and now drawn inexorably together.

“So what is
your talent?” he asks, apropos of nothing, and I am startled back into
suspicion.

“What do you
mean?”

Cole rolls his
eyes and gives me an exasperated look. “I told you already, I know you’re
different, gifted. So what can you do?”

“Look, I don’t
know what you’re talking about,” I say, my earlier peace rapidly draining away.
Now that I am thinking more clearly, I wonder what on earth possessed me to
come with Cole, why I am not leaping out the door and running to the safety of
my mom’s shop.

“Ok, fine.
I’ll go first,” he says, not appearing to care about my equivocation. “The
first time you saw me, at the school, you were terrified. You felt like you
couldn’t breathe, the pain in your head was excruciating, and you were
petrified with fear, isn’t that right?”

My mouth drops
open as I hear him calmly describe one of the worst moments of my life.

“That was me.
I made you feel that.” Even as the logical part of my mind rejects what he is
saying, some inner wisdom nods with satisfaction at this confirmation. “I can impose
fear on other people, in different levels. You got a high dose, unfortunately.
I can give people severe panic attacks, or even just a vague sense of unease.
I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he continues, seemingly unaware of my
stupefied response of stuttered breathing. “It was an accident, but I should
have been in better control. When I’m angry, it’s hard to contain my ability,
and I was really pissed off yesterday morning. I didn’t realize you were there
until too late, and you got caught in sort of a radial blast.”

“You’re crazy,
aren’t you?” I beg, my throat dry. Cole shakes his head at me disapprovingly.

“Come on,
don’t do that. You know there’s something different about me. You can sense it,
the way I could sense you.”

I stare at him
while my thoughts flit around too quick to catch. Yes, I did know there was
something out of the ordinary about Cole, I felt it from that first moment, but
it had never occurred to me that there might be someone else out there with unexplainable
abilities like me. Now that I think about it, I am struck by how self-centered
I have been. Of course I couldn’t be the only person in the world who is
“special,” and it should have been obvious before now.

“I know the
truth,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can take them back. Cole’s eyes
widen, but he waits for my explanation. With a sense of recklessness, I give
in.

“Whenever
someone speaks to me for the first time, I don’t hear what they’re saying, I
hear what they’re hiding, what they don’t want the world to know. Whenever I
read something, the first thing I see is the truth. And anytime someone lies to
me, I know. I get this buzzing under my skin, stronger when it’s a bigger lie,
just a hum when someone sidesteps the truth a bit.”  A nervous giggle bubbles
up in my throat as my whole being screams that I’m an idiot, that revealing my
ability for the first time to a complete stranger who made me nearly pass out
from terror the first time I saw him is a mistake I won’t live long enough to
regret.

But Cole’s
face splits into a heart-stopping smile, as though a blazing light has burst into
life within, and he reaches out to take my hands in a crushing grip.

“I knew it! I
knew I was right about you! You have no idea how long…I’ve looked for you my
whole life,” he exclaims, a startling passion in his voice that is both
frightening and tempting. “I knew, I knew there had to be someone else out there
like me. And then I found…Jake…but he’s in denial, he can’t admit what he is,
but you! You’ve got control over it, I can tell.” He continues rambling, his
eyes gleaming with possibilities, but the shock of what I’ve just done hits me
like a bat to the head and I stop listening.

Cole seems to
realize I’m not paying attention and pauses in his outburst. “What is it? Are
you sorry you told me?” His voice is uncharacteristically uncertain and once
again I am struck by the set of contradictions he represents. He is gorgeous
and sarcastic one moment, solicitous and sweet the next, and yet underlying it
all, he is a walking vessel of fear.

 “No, of
course not.” I pause, thinking it through. “Okay, maybe a little. I’ve never
told anyone about me.” Cole nods his understanding, but hurt flickers in his
still brilliant eyes. I look down at my hands, still encased in his, the
calloused palms scratching against my skin. “Did you say that Jake is like you?
I mean…us?”

A cloud passes
over his expression at my question, and I wonder if he really meant to tell me
about Jake or if he just got carried away. “He is and he isn’t. I’m not even
completely sure about what he can do, but I can feel that he’s talented. It’s
something to do with emotion, particularly anger. And strength. I know that.”
His expression is grim, and I get the feeling he has experienced the power of
Jake’s anger for himself.