Intangible (8 page)

It was them.

He knew it was them. He’d finally found them after months of trespassing into people’s heads, fingering their thoughts. Using his gift.

Curse.

Whatever.

There had always been voices—thoughts—he could hear. For as long as he could remember. The slight hum of people’s thoughts in the background of his mind was normal for him—nothing he would pay attention to, nothing standing out. When he wanted to know what someone was thinking, he could tune in to that one person. Like a radio, each individual was a different frequency in his mind. A little focus and he was in.

Truth be told, he’d used it to his advantage. Usually a little foray into a girl’s mind to find out what would impress her, make her happy, make her want him. Man, he got to be good at that. Very good. If a girl was worrying about her new haircut, he’d compliment her on it. If she was berating herself for saying something stupid, he’d tell her how intelligent she was. It was so easy. And so effective. Whatever the worry, all it took was a small comment to make her feel good and he was in.

It had seemed like a gift.

Once.

Two years ago something had changed. He didn’t know what had happened or when exactly it had started because he hadn’t even noticed it at first. It had snuck up on him. Bit by bit he had to work harder—focus more intensely—to keep the background thoughts to a hum. Random thoughts would stand out loud in his mind whenever he let down his guard. It was only after he found himself struggling continually to keep people’s thoughts out of his head that he realized something was wrong.

And then one day he couldn’t keep them out. His mind was overrun by everyone’s thoughts all at the same time. As if his radio was tuned to every station simultaneously. With the volume up loud.

He couldn’t make sense of what anyone said to him—couldn’t filter out their words from the overwhelming racket in his head. And with it came pain. Deep, debilitating pain. Migraines like he’d never known. A constant deep ache, sharpened with every sound, every shard of light, every small movement of his eyes. And vomiting.

The doctors were useless. Every test came back negative. It was all in his head, they said. Well, yeah, it was. But not in the way they meant. He couldn’t tell them what was really going on. He could already hear their skeptical thoughts about the migraines. They’d never have believed him about the voices, the thoughts he could hear. Besides, he’d already learned that lesson. The hard way. He couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

So on paper he was fine.

In reality he was tortured.

And that was how they’d found him. The Shadows.

He had been curled up as tight as possible, whimpering from the pain and noise wracking his head. They’d whispered to him from their dark corner, offering relief. He hadn’t wondered how the hell they’d gotten into his home, what they were doing in his bedroom. He hadn’t had the good sense to be scared. He hadn’t even wondered how he was able to hear their words through all the noise in his mind. He’d just forced his arm to reach out and open up his hand.

He would have done anything to make it stop.

He’d swallowed the pill dry. He didn’t care. He’d have choked it down if he had to. And it was like a miracle. The pain dulled and stopped, the voices got softer until they were only a hum, as if someone had simply turned the volume dial in his mind to low. A shaky breath and his body was able to slowly uncurl, his muscles unclench. A shower and some food—the first he’d been able to keep down in days—and he’d felt like himself again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And as easily as that he was addicted.

Later, they’d called out to him from the darkness of the woods with a voice that shivered his soul. He couldn’t make out anything but the darkest, most impenetrable black he’d ever seen and glowing orange eyes. They were like living, breathing shadows, and for lack of another name that’s what he’d called them. The Shadows.

They offered him a deal. Medicine to treat his problem in exchange for him using his gift to find someone. Two someones. Once they were found, a cure.

If he’d known then what he would be getting himself into, would he have taken the Shadows’ offering? Would he have been strong enough to refuse? Probably not, if he was being completely honest. The only alternative would have been to kill himself. And he’d reached the point of considering that.

But he had that pesky innate will to survive.

He didn’t know why the Shadows wanted the brother and sister, but if he allowed himself to dwell on it too long he knew in his gut that finding them meant their deaths.

So he didn’t allow himself to think about it.

He couldn’t. Especially as he stood there looking at Sera across the parking lot, leaning against her car, talking with her brother. They looked normal and nice, the two of them. Why would the Shadows want them? He didn’t get it.

He had listened to people’s thoughts around the parking lot. Not one person had any thread of a thought about either of them healing.

…wearing flip-flops at this time of year. It’s ridiculous.

Marc flinched now. Jolted back to reality as unwanted thoughts crashed into his mind.

…such a jerk. Look at him…wonder if she knows…

The medicine was wearing off—he had to get back to his motel room for more, pronto. He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he walked around to the driver’s side of his car, opened the door and got in. A searing sensation like a hot poker began to push its way into his brain from the right side of his head. The headaches were getting worse each time the medicine wore off. Why hadn’t he put the bottle in his car? Idiot.

He pulled out of the parking lot, wincing as the pain flared, and headed for the motel. Despite the pain, he smiled. He knew where they were, now. And he knew it was them.

He could almost taste his freedom.

EIGHT

F
ey stared at the blur that was the streets of Burlington as they headed downtown to Muddy Waters, their favorite coffee shop. She couldn’t concentrate on Sera and Luke’s banter up front.

It was coming. Soon. She could feel it. Her people had been preparing for this for millennia—but most ardently for the past seventeen years as they had kept the existence of these prophesied twins a secret. Intricate glamours had been layered for years to keep their identities unknown to those who would harm them.

When she’d taken Sera and Luke on as infants, Fey had been on constant vigil. She’d done her job and done it well. Kept them safe and hidden in plain sight. That’s what she was there for. But as they’d grown and the glamours had proven effective, she’d relaxed. Enjoyed herself more. Let herself become emotionally attached to them both.

And now? She glanced at them as they sat in the front seat and teased each other. Now she loved these two people like no others. These Gifteds who knew nothing about who they really were. Who belonged to this world and the Realm. Who had no idea what the future held for them.

A future that was fast approaching.

A shimmer caught her eye, and she turned back to see who or what they’d passed. Whoever it was had already disappeared by the time she looked. Was it just here or were there more of them out during the day everywhere? She shook her head and turned her attention back to her charges and their regular afternoon excursion.

Driving down Main Street, the lake spread out at the bottom of the long hill and the heart of the city lay to the left, cobblestoned and cut off from traffic. Church Street. Most everything was on Church Street. The coffee house was just off it.

Sera parked the car and they started walking the two blocks down Main Street.

“It’s amazing what happened with Josh’s mom, isn’t it?” Fey looked across Luke to Sera.

“Yeah,” Luke said. “We seem to have more than our fair share of miracles in this town, don’t you think?” He grinned.

“Miracles?” Sera said, a dubious look on her face. Then she glared at Luke.

“Marvels. Supernatural phenomena. Unexplained recoveries.”

Sera didn’t say anything, just shook her head at him and kept walking. Fey hid her smile.

“Isn’t that Rosie Deakins?” Sera pointed at a girl ahead of them on the next block. Rosie’s light brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a teal fleece. She was in several of Sera’s classes, someone Fey knew Sera would be friends with if she allowed herself any. “She looks down.”

Luke nodded. “Dane just asked Sylvie out.”

“And Rosie has had a thing for him this year. Oh, poor Rosie,” Sera said. “Why didn’t she ask him?”

Luke shrugged. “Probably because Dane Simmons doesn’t speak geek.”

Fey and Sera, on either side, elbowed him.

“Hey!”

“Rosie is not a geek!” Sera said.

“I’m just saying, if the pocket-protector fits,” Luke said, laughing. “It’s not like there’s anything wrong with that. I happen to be a card-carrying member, myself.”

Fey looked at Luke. “Is this a takes-one-to-know-one sort of thing?”

“No. But I do wear my geekness proudly: Brilliant. Mathematical genius.” He paused, a huge grin on his face. “Computer god.”

“Hardly,” Fey said.

“Humble,” Sera said at the same time.

“But I’m also geek chic,” Luke said with a straight face—but barely. “I’m totally cool.”

“You’re a total fool?” Fey said. Luke laughed, nodding his head.

Sera looked at Rosie again. “Dane’s the fool. I’ll be right back,” she said, and ran ahead.

Fey watched her call to the other girl, who turned and waited for Sera to catch up. Sera put a hand on Rosie’s arm as she talked to her, and Fey could see the slight glow of energy running up the girl’s arm and into the rest of her body. Rosie’s sagging shoulders lifted and she actually stood up taller, lifted her face, smiled at Sera. As she and Luke got closer, Fey could see the sadness leaving the girl’s eyes, a look of confidence replacing it.

Every time she witnessed Sera’s power, she felt awestruck.

And lucky to be who she was.

She glanced at Luke—he was watching Sera and Rosie intently. Fey slipped her hand into Luke’s. He turned to her, gave her hand a squeeze. It was quiet times like this that she wished she could tell them that she knew what they could do. Knew who they were. But it wasn’t entirely hers to tell.

Not yet.

S
era could see Fey and Luke walking hand-in-hand in her peripheral vision as she said goodbye to Rosie. A few well-placed subconscious ideas regarding her self-worth and the girl glowed on the power of her own good feelings as she walked away. Sera smiled.

She turned to Luke and Fey, but her eyes were immediately drawn beyond them to a woman staggering around the corner. She was bent over as if she’d been hurt. Sera tried to determine where, but the woman’s ankle-length black coat made it impossible to see her body. Long black hair hung over her face so Sera couldn’t tell if she was ill or injured or maybe even drunk. One hand was pressed into her abdomen, the other arm was held out for balance.

There was something about her. Sera got that familiar sensation of tightness in her stomach. Without even thinking about it, she reached for her necklace.

At that, Luke turned to look behind him, as did Fey. They had stopped walking just a few feet from Sera and watched.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luke held out a hand to the woman, but she stumbled past him and right into Sera.

Sera caught her and fought to regain her balance, then looked down with a gasp at the woman’s hands clutching her clothes. They were covered in blood, and a puddle was forming on the concrete at the woman’s feet as she stood there. She’d left a trail, Sera realized, as her eyes flipped back up to her face.

The woman gazed directly into Sera’s eyes through the purple lenses of her sunglasses, searching for a moment. “Help me. Please.” She faltered, her hands let go as if out of her control and she fell to her knees. Luke was there in an instant to catch her, support her. Sera had hold of her arms, and she and Luke lowered the woman to a sitting position. As soon as the woman was steadied, Sera placed one hand on her stomach, the other on her back.