Witch Eyes (4 page)

six

Once he was gone, I ordered and immediately devoured my breakfast. Lucien’s money had covered not only the two cups of coffee, but my meal and a generous tip on top of that. The whole conversation with Lucien had happened so fast, and he’d thrown so much at me … I’d been manipulated, I just wasn’t sure how.

Helen had given me directions to the Belmont, which really was just down the street, closer to the water. It was an old hotel, but well kept. Belle Dam looked like the kind of town where everything worthwhile was restored to its original glory.

As Lucien had promised, there was a room already waiting for me. There’d been a box on the nightstand, with a cell phone inside. I pulled out the card beneath it.
You’ll need this. Lucien.
I flipped the phone open. Already charged.

How did he have time to get me a phone already?

I threw my bag down on the floor, and leapt onto the bed the moment the door closed behind me. The hotel room was too quiet. There was silence, except for a faint buzzing from the television and its associated electronics. But the comfort of the bed was slowly seeping into my skin, and I drifted off.

I’d like to say I had crazy dreams that made sense in a few ways, but still managed to leave portents of the future all wrapped up in a nice and neat little bow. Instead, I dreamt of hamburgers.

It was afternoon when I finally climbed out of bed and started to get cleaned up. Taking a shower with sunglasses on, and keeping them from falling off, was a struggle. But I didn’t dare take them off. People did really nasty things in the bathroom, things that could scar an innocent boy like me.

I found out what Lucien had meant by “fully stocked.” The room was already lived in. By me.

There were clothes in my size in every one of the dressers. And if they were any indication, it was a much more confident, showy me that lived here. All bright colors, which I never wore, khakis and polo shirts. An entire shelf was filled with all sorts of designer sunglasses.

It was late afternoon by the time I left the hotel. Out of habit, I hung close to the buildings and the shade they provided. I wasn’t really allergic to sunlight, but it was still uncomfortable. The lighter things were, the more my attention was pulled outside the safety zone of my glasses.

I saw a sign for a sub shop down the block and headed that way, coming up behind a girl about my age with a thick streak of pink in her short blonde hair. She laughed into a cell phone. “Yeah, he dropped me off. They’re waiting to see what my mother has to say.” She spoke so confidently her voice carried, and I had no choice but to be a silent partner in her conversation.

“She hasn’t said anything about it at all,” the girl continued. “She’s probably still strategizing. If she tells me to change it, and I don’t, then she loses. And if she tells me she likes it, or doesn’t say anything at all, then I win.”

I turned to head into the sub shop just as the girl announced to me, “No no, we don’t eat in there. That place is
off-limits.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Big mist
ake.

The girl with the pink streak was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, her hair pulled back behind her. A pair of sunglasses was tucked in the front of her shirt. None of that made the slightest impression compared to the rest, though. All at once, the world seemed to shove itself forward, cramming every ounce of data it could.

She exploded right there in front of me into crystals of turquoise and orange. The girl was still there, but part of me saw a giant sculpture of ice-cold gemstones—precious things, virtually priceless. Slivers of turquoise hummed in the light, thriving on every last touch and word. An inner core, like orange mirrors, reflected back every facet and crevice upon one another until the whole thing glimmered like a diamond.

Spotlights everywhere, the stage is wherever she goes, the exterior may be glass but the core is diamonds. The loyalty she has isn’t the loyalty she was expected to have. The heart scarred, tough, fragile, and caged. Excitement, tingling in the fingertips, just laugh and it’s all okay.

Once it started, it was hard to stop. Like watching a car accident, or reality television. My head started pulsing, a throbbing that seemed to beat faster than my heart. Finally the images started to slow, and I pulled myself away. Focused on the black, on the darkness of the shade.

“I’ll call you back,” I heard her say from ahead of me. My skin grew cold as sweat pushed its way to the surface, covering my face and my arms.

If I didn’t take some medicine soon, it would get a lot worse. If I slipped up again, then it would turn into a migraine. It would hurt to move my eyes; it would be agony to even keep them open. Push it much further, and I wouldn’t even be able to walk soon after that. Let alone try to do anything as insane as lift my head to change the TV channel or pick up a book.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning into my personal space.

“Just a migraine coming on.” I tried to keep my voice steady, as though this was any normal illness.

I was a terrible liar, and she was too perceptive for my own good. “C’mon, inside.” If it bothered her to be going into the accursed sub shop, she didn’t let it show on her face.

Out of the sunlight, it was a little better. The shop was built for ambiance, which meant all the lights were dimmed low. I took a seat at one of the tables, fishing for the pill bottle in my pocket.

“Here’s some water,” she said, setting a bottle down on the table between us. I took it, shaking a few pills out. “I’m Jade, by the way.”

Once I’d swallowed them down with the icy liquid, I closed my eyes. “Braden.” It would help a little bit. I focused on my breathing, and imagined I could see inside my brain. If I could see where the problem was, maybe I could crinkle my nose and make it go away.

“New here? Or just visiting?” Jade asked.

“New. I start tomorrow.” If I could even get out of bed then.

“Belle Dam High? You’re already a week late, you know,” she
said.

“That’s the least of my problems today.” Even the migraine couldn’t match up at the moment.

“Is there somebody I can call for you? Make sure you’re okay?”

I tried to fake a smile. When I opened my eyes, the pain was still there, but the more distance I put between myself and the visions, the better off I was. “I just need to go lie down. Thanks … for the water.” I reached for my wallet, but she waved me off.

“Please, don’t. It’s not a big deal. You sure you’re okay to get home?”

I nodded. Slowly. “It’s not the first time. I’ll see you around.”

“Tomorrow. At school.”

¤ ¤ ¤

Half an hour later, nothing was working. I used all the usual tricks to curb off the migraine—the medication, the towels, the total darkness. It was a low pressure that spiked at random parts of my brain.

The first thing I’d done when I got into the hotel room, after fumbling for minutes with the key they’d given me, was to pull all the curtains shut. The second thing I’d done was to call
home.

“What’s wrong?” The familiar tone of concern only made me feel that much worse. John knew the moment my he
sitant “hey” cracked in the middle.

“Migraine,” I whispered.
I’m sorry.

“Focus on your breathing,” Uncle John said, not sounding angry or hurt in the least. Why was he being so nice? I’d abandoned him.

I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t make the words come out. Every few seconds of coherent thought were ripped away, replaced with raw and savage red haze, and then just as quickly with calm again.

“Just keep breathing,” he murmured into the phone, and I pictured him sitting on the edge of my bed, whispering the same things. I curled up against the wall, my head against my knees.

I did what he said, focusing on the in and out of my breath. Making each breath a conscious act, something I could control. I couldn’t control the pain, so this would have to do.

“You’ll be okay, Braden,” he said, but his voice sounded fart
her away than it had a moment before.

I fell asleep to the sound of his voice, sounds of comfort. But as soothing as his voice was, part of me wondered why he didn’t ask if I was okay. If I’d made it to Belle Dam. Or if I wanted to come home.

Seven

On my way out the door the next morning, when my mind was filled with this overwhelming concept of
high school
, the strangest thing happened. I got off the elevator in the hotel lobby, and the manager fell in line with me.

“I just wanted to assure you, Mr. Michaels,” he said formally, and then he stopped.

So I stopped, too. “Huh?”

He leaned forward—he was young and prematurely bald, only a few sparse hairs left on top. “Everything is being handled with the utmost discretion. Mr. Fallon indicated that you were to be left alone.” And then he winked, like we shared a secret or something.

“Uhm … that’s great,” I said, since I really wasn’t sure what I was
supposed
to be saying. I headed for the door, and the manager didn’t follow, so I figured that was the end of it.

I bought a bagel at the corner café near the hotel, but skipped the coffee. I was already nervous and a little jittery, and I figured the coffee would make it worse.
The high school wasn’t far from the downtown area—there wasn’t anything in Belle Dam that was really far from the downtown area.

The high school was one big, long rectangular prison of dark bricks and somber windows. It looked more appropriate for a funeral home than a high school, but no one had asked me for my opinion.

I glanced at myself in the main building’s glass windows as I shuffled my way to the door. The sunglasses were fine for now; the sun was beating down already and the sky was clear. I thought I looked the part of any normal high school student. Maybe my hair was a little long, and my clothes still had that brand-new, never-been-washed look. I looked like I was trying too hard. But there was hope.

No one paid me any attention. There seemed to be more going on than interest in an unfamiliar face. It meant I still had a little time before I had to be on my game. I tried for a cool and casual expression, but my mouth didn’t seem to want to twist that way.

Checking in at the office was easy, but I had the sneaking suspicion that everyone kept staring at me. And they couldn’t get me out of there fast enough—it was almost like they were afraid of being seen with me.

People in this town are strange.
It was like they thought I was someone else. I headed back out of the office and nearly ran into someone.

A girl decked out in some sort of gypsy attire cut me off and was nearly galloping back toward the school’s front doors. “Jimmy!” she called. “Did you hear about Drew? My sister swears she ran into him at the grocery store yesterday.”

Drew? As in the Drew from the bus? My interest was piqued. The guy she was talking to was leaning against the side of the building. “Armstrong?” He sniffed. “Doubt it. He’s not showing his face around here
anytime
soon.”

“My hand to God,” the girl replied. She wore an army of bracelets that clacked their way down her arm every time she moved.

“Riley, let it go. You know he’s not coming back. It’d be suicide.”

The girl swiveled around suddenly, as if she could feel me walking up behind her. “You’re new,” she said abruptly. There was no question, no hesitation.

“Uh, y-yeah,” I stuttered, looking away. I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping. She moved frenetically, always in constant motion. Clack. Clackclack.

“I’m Riley. Newspaper editor extraordinaire, fashion wunderkind, and resident expert on all things beautiful and damned.” She shook her wrist, settling the bracelets all to the bottom. “Belle? Dam? Get it?”

“Braden.” I looked away again to watch a throng of kids entering the building. “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“It’s all natural, I’m afraid,” she confided. “Drives my mom nuts.”

“Nice meeting you.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to turn away. There was no easy way to break free of her.

“Right, right. So is that Braden with an A, an AI, or an AY?”

Braden with an AY? I shook my head, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. “Just an A.”

“The classic,” she said with a nod. “I approve.” Riley swiveled around and looked over my shoulder. “Jimmy, we’re not done yet!” she called. He’d apparently wandered off while we were talking. “Okay, you,” she said, swinging back toward me. “Give me your schedule.”

It caught me off guard enough that I did it without question. She looked it over and handed it back.

“So you know Drew?” It occurred to me once I said it that there might be more than one Drew in this town.

“Everyone knows Drew,” Riley murmured, her eyes downcast. She started heading into the main hallway of the school and I followed. “He used to be all that anyone could talk about.”

“Why’s that?”

She shook her head and didn’t answer. I got the impression th
at whatever happened, it wasn’t pleasant.

And then just as quickly, it was like a switch flipped, and she was all smiles and energy. “I heard about you,” she announced. “They said you’ve got some sort of … condition.”

“They did?”

“You’re not blind, so what is it? You’re too dark to be an albino. What are you, some sort of modern-day pirate?” She brightened considerably. “Are you wearing eyeliner?” She tried peeking underneath the glasses.

“No.” It was really hard not to smile.

“Then what’s the deal?”

Riley was like some sort of ferret on speed. I started to laugh. “They don’t raise you guys with manners in this town, do they?”

“’Course not.” She smiled. “They get in the way of getting the really good dirt.”

For what was sure to not be the last time, I said, “My eyes … I get migraines.” All true, in a manner of speaking. For some reason, I felt bad about lying.

“Hmm.” She nodded. She seemed to be thinking that over. The way her eyes sparkled, I could almost see the hamster inside her head going into overdrive, his wheel spinning uncontrollably.

“So you’re the go-to girl for the gossip around here?”

Riley snorted. “Gossip? Boring. I’m a journalist. The school paper’s basically my baby. And sometimes I can get my name in the local paper, if I’m in the right place at the right time.”

Riley said she was an expert on local things. Maybe she’d be able to help me find out something about the mysterious Grace that Lucien had mentioned. If there really had been someone with my curse before, maybe there’d be some record. Anything that might give me an idea about how she controlled it.
If
she’d controlled it.

“You’re going in there,” Riley said swiftly, and then pushed me toward the door. By the time I had turned around to ask her again, she was already power-walking her way down the hall.

The first few classes passed by in a blur. Like I’d suspected, public school was a lot different than what I was used to. I’d seen enough TV to know most of the basics. You don’t get up and leave the room without permission. You don’t talk out of turn. But some of the rules were a little more surprising. Debate wasn’t encouraged. It was the teacher’s way, without question. And most importantly—the seating chart seemed to be based around some unwritten social bylaws. The only seats available in every class were right in front.

Riley met me after fourth period. “How’s it going so far?” She was scribbling something in a notebook as we talked. The hallway started to clear quickly as students rushed for the cafeteria.

The door behind us swung open, and a girl in a black and white pantsuit stepped out. The outfit slid around her like silk and screamed money. I didn’t need the flash of pink in her hair to recognize her.

“Jade,” Riley greeted her tightly.

My smile was tempered by the tone in Riley’s voice. The notebook had disappeared, and all her energy was channeled into gripping her book bag strap.

“Nice to see you up and around. Headache’s all gone?” Her voice was full of sugar. Jade wasn’t even looking at me, her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully on Riley.

“Much better.”

Riley rolled her eyes, offering nothing more than an irritated huff. “Come on, Braden, we’re missing out on lunch.”

“Guess I’ll see you around,” I offered.

“Photophobia?” Jade asked, in lieu of walking away. The thick eyeliner seemed to magnify the dark blue of her eyes. “I did a little looking last night. Bright lights cause migraines, and things like that?”

It caught me off guard, that Jade would have been interested enough to do research. “Yeah,” I said. Something like that.

Jade turned away, looking to Riley. “You can run along. Braden and I are going to take a walk.”

Riley shook her head. “He’s following me around for the day,” she said stubbornly.

“He’ll be back later. You can sink your claws into him then. I know how status-hungry the newspaper staff is,” Jade replied lightly.

I had to say something, to stop this little argument before Riley’s feelings really did get hurt. But when I went to speak, I saw Riley’s face. She looked defeated.

“Fine. I’ll see you later, Braden,” she said quickly.

“We don’t get along,” Jade explained while Riley headed down the hall. She moved stiffly, but never looked back to the two of us.

“Clearly.”

“Come along. There’s a whole new world to explore, new boy.” Jade’s smile was infectious.

So I followed.