The Hierophant (Book 1 in The Arcana Series) (17 page)

“You are the hole in your heart, Ana,” Trebor says. He's said it once before. “If you filled it with your self, you wouldn't feel so precariously grounded.”

“My self?” I wonder. I know what he's saying is true, but it feels impossible. “How can I know who I am? How can I love who I am? I am all the people in my life who have supported me, who have mocked me, who have left me behind. Those things shape who you are.”

Trebor nods. “I know. But you—the real Ana—the Ana who was before all of that, and who still is—you're the person who decides how to
let
them shape you.”

“It doesn't feel like a decision.”

“No, it never does. But with distance, there's clarity. Understanding.” He sighs. “Bad things happen. Terrible things happen. But so do good and wonderful things. That's just part of life. Usually other people are involved, but ultimately it comes down to us, and how we choose to respond. How we choose to grow, or remain where we are. How we choose to hold on, or let go.”

I feel some hard and twisted part of myself unclench, deep inside. My shoulders drop. I feel tired. “How are you so wise and insightful? Please don't pull a vampire move and tell me you're, like, a thousand years old.”

Trebor smiles. “It's easy to be wise when the pain doesn't belong to you. Also, being from a world that’s familiar with magic and metaphysical philosophy helps. But, I think there's more wisdom in you than you realize.”

I scoff. “I doubt it. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a child, which, in a way I guess I am. Other times I feel like I'm older than death.” I shake my head.

“There's wisdom in youth, as well as age.”

I look at him. “You are, aren't you.”

“Are what?”

“A thousand years old.”

He laughs. “Does it matter?”

I blush and shrug. “No. I guess not. But I guess if you're really old that makes you super creepy for spending so much time with me.” I give him a crooked smile, but I still feel inexplicably shy about it. “Maybe I should start calling you 'Gramps'?”

Trebor laughs again. He shakes his head at me. “Nineteen.”

“Years, or centuries?”

“Human years. Rotations of the planet Earth around the sun.”

“Hmm, still a little sketchy, but I think I can deal with a two or three year difference as opposed to five hundred. Or even fifty.” I raise my eyebrows.

“Good. I'm glad you're not
too
creeped out by me.”

I laugh. “Well, honestly, if you stalking me and being
not
human
doesn't creep me out, I don't know what would. I guess you can't scare me off too easily.”

“That's one of the things I love about you, Ana,” he says softly. “You have every right to be afraid, but you're still brave as hell.”

“I'm actually
scared
as hell, most of the time.”

“But you keep going. And you don't give up. That's bravery.”

I angle my chin upwards, trying to look clever. “Or is it stubbornness?”

“Maybe.” He smiles. “But whatever it is, it's admirable.”

“So now you love
and
admire things about me. Careful Trebor, the angels will be on your tail soon.”

He sighs, and looks sidelong at me again. “Good thing they don't come down here often.”

My cheeks burn, and my attempt at looking clever fizzles. I smile a very small smile instead, watching my feet move over the sidewalk.

“Ana...” Trebor starts, but hesitates.

“Yeah?”

He dithers, staring at the ground one moment, then back to me the next. Finally, he shoves his hands deep into his pockets and says, “I understand why you haven't told Kyla. Sometimes you spend so long being told that one way is the right way, and that certain rules are the only rules, and it's impossible to feel okay about it when you break free from them. You might not have had a choice, even—the decision might have been forced on you, but not on the rest of the world. The rest of the world still thinks you're wrong—you're a freak. How can you know she won't too?”

I definitely feel like he’s not talking about me and Kyla anymore. “Sure,” I agree. “It's kind of like that.”

“I just...I want you to know I understand what that's like. And why you've kept it a secret.” He nods to himself. “But you're right. It's time to tell her the truth.”

I nod. “Okay.”

Trebor surprises me by reaching for my hand. He gets a firm grip on my fingers, opens his mouth to say something else, then stops. He looks quizzical. “Did you hear that?”

I listen. “I don't—” But then there is this terrible
ripping
sound, and a pulse of fair white light somewhere off beyond the houses and trees, possibly in the orchard we just left. The light spreads across the village like an aftershock, passing through us, ringing my bones.

“Shit,” Trebor hisses, and pulls me along, breaking into a run.

“What is it?”

“Not human, I can tell you that much. Come on.”

— 37 —

When we reach my house, Trebor tries to laugh it off. “We're safe now. Don't worry.”

“What was that? It was like it fell from the sky.”

He shrugs lazily, even though we’re both panting from running. “Listen, it doesn't matter. We're here, you’re safe. No one saw us.”

No one saw us?

“Hey, you okay?”

“No. I'm still a magical amateur and whatever that was, even
you
didn't want to fight it. What am I going to do when you're gone? What if I can never learn to use magic to defend myself?”

“Don't worry. We're
so close
, I can feel it.” He breathes deeply to catch his breath. “You'll be the Sura's worst nightmare soon. Just wait.” Trebor smiles, squeezes my hand for reassurance. “Listen, I wasn't running because I didn't think we could take that thing back there. But I have to keep you safe. That's my priority right now. But, that said—I need to get going to check it out.”

“You're going
back
there?”

“It's my job, Ana.” His smile falters for a moment. “I'll be fine.”

I frown, and his hand slips out of mine as he starts to walk away. “Trebor, wait.”

He stops, turns around.

I shuffle my feet. “Can you be my date for the dance this weekend, or would that piss off the angels?”

Trebor just looks at me for a moment, contemplating—making my head and heart hurt with every moment that passes—and then he smiles again, that roguish grin I love so much and see so rarely. “For you Ana? I would be glad to infuriate the entire host of heaven.”

My cheeks warm at his sentiment, and I hope Trebor can’t see it in the dark. “Good. So, then, you
have
to come back from this investigation. Because I will be
pissed
if you stand me up.” I give him a crooked smile.

He nods, once. “You have my word, damsel.”

Then he turns, and vanishes into the night.

— 38 —

When I wake up, I see this on my phone:

TREBOR:
Ana, I’ve got to leave for a day or two. Try not to go out after dark while I’m gone, and don’t go anywhere alone. I promise I’ll be back in time for the dance! I’ll meet you there.

TREBOR:
Please try not to talk to anyone you don’t know while I’m gone.

TREBOR:
I’m sorry I have to do this. :(

I swallow, because I know this must be bad news. Trebor wouldn’t leave me to fend for myself just yet, not unless he absolutely had to.

Also, when did Trebor learn to use emoticons?

School is a dreary, awkward mess. Kyla isn’t avoiding me anymore, but there’s a strain between us. She knows she shouldn’t be talking about whatever is going on with me, at least not in front of anyone else. And she knows that I
want
to tell her, and that something
is
going on. But I’m distracted and worried, hoping beyond hope that Trebor is okay, that the thing he went to investigate last night didn’t hurt him, or steal his phone and pretend to be him, or any other number of wild scenarios.

My dad is worried when I come home from school and stay home, the first time in what seems like ages.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking up from the dishes he’s rinsing off. “You’re not going out tonight?” His bold blue eyes are striking as they cut across the dim evening light filtering through the kitchen.

I’m seated at the breakfast counter, nursing a cup of tea. “Nah,” I say, trying to be casual.

“Are you and Trebor fighting?”

“Huh?” I ask. “What? Dad, we’re not dating.”

“Sure. Then you’re awfully committed to studying for someone who’s failing chemistry.” He glances at an envelope on the counter—another present from Williamsville South High School.

I sigh. “Look, Dad, I don’t need Chemistry to graduate.”

“That’s not the point, Ana. Did you lie to me?”

I think about it. “No, we didn’t lie. Trebor and I really have been studying. A lot.”

“I don’t mean
studying each other’s eyes
,” he laughs to himself.

“We’re
not dating
.” I slouch, then look strangely at him. “Why aren’t you more mad about me failing?”

He shrugs. “Like you said, it won’t prevent you from graduating. God knows I hate Chemistry. I can barely cook, let alone understand chemical equations.” He smiles fondly at me. “I trust you to make wise decisions, Anastasia. You’re a mature, intelligent girl, and I have to trust you if I want to be sane and still be your father.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Thanks.”

“So you’re not dating that Trebor kid? Because I kind of like him. He’s polite. And he doesn’t have any piercings or tattoos.” He chuckles to himself.

I think about the times Trebor has been here, and try to remember if he’s ever worn a short-sleeved shirt—he definitely has. The tattoos come down his arms, lace down under his elbows. My father has seen his tattoos. Hasn’t he?

My brow furrows.

Unless not everyone can see them? Like the flashing eyes and dragon fly wings colored hair, and the subtle glow all around him?

But Kyla
definitely
mentioned the tattoos. Weird.

“Are you still going to the dance this weekend?” My father asks.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts, putting them aside for now. “Yeah, I promised Kyla I would. I mean, if I’m not grounded or anything.”

He shakes his head. “Not planning on grounding you if you’re not planning on getting into trouble. Do you have a dress?”

I almost gasp. “No! Oh my god I completely forgot to get one! Crap, Kyla will kill me…”

Abe laughs. “You’re the worse teenage girl I’ve ever met. No drama with boys, no interest in clothes. Well don’t worry about it. As frightening as this is going to sound, I actually have something in mind that I’ve been meaning to give to you for a while. I’ve got to pick it up from the drycleaner’s though, so it’ll be a surprise.”

I stop myself from tugging my shirt collar or gulping cartoonishly. “Are you sure, Dad? I know I’m not the best teenage girl, but you might be even worse.”

“Just trust me.” He smiles.

I nod. “Okay.”
Worst case scenario, I borrow something from Kyla
, I think.

He looks at the clock. “Ooh, I’ve gotta get ready.”

“Working again?” I wonder, kind of wishing we could hang out and play a board game, or something besides have awkward moments in passing.

He dries his hands and looks at me in his sad-happy way, and I know he’s thinking about how much I look like my mother. “No, not tonight. I’m meeting some of the guys out for a drink.” But it’s too quiet, and I know it’s a lie, or at least a half-truth.

“Are
you
lying to
me
?” I say in a joking tone, testing the water.

He looks down, and his smile falters. “Only a little.”

My heart trips. My father never could tell a lie to me, or to my mother. “Who are you meeting?” I ask in the smallest voice I didn’t know I was capable of.

“I
am
meeting some of the guys from work.” He crumbles slightly before he finishes the truth. “And a friend I met at the last fundraiser for the fire hall.”

My eyebrows raise. “A woman, you mean.”

He looks at me, doesn’t need to nod. He’s waiting for me to react. So am I. It’s happening, somewhere, smothered so far down inside that I’m not sure how it will come out when it does. I just know it’s not coming out at this moment.

“Where are you guys going for drinks?” I ask instead.

Abe hesitates. “Bleu. Ana, are you—”

“The martini bar? Swanky, Dad. Sure the fire hall guys clean up well enough for that?” I laugh.

“Ana,” he interrupts my fake laughter. “Stop being a bad teenage girl and be a little dramatic, please? I need to know how this makes you feel, sweetheart. We should discuss it.”

My heart is climbing into my throat, making a nest there. I’m afraid if I speak I’ll get even more confused, even more scared and numb. “I don’t know,” I shrug. “I guess I’ve got to let it sink in. You go have a good time—but not too good—and we can talk about it another night.” There. How mature of me.

Abe nods, brow furrowed. “Okay. You know I love you, sweetheart, right?”

I nod. “Of course. I love you too, Dad.”