Supernormal (6 page)
Voices echoed out from the doc’s inner sanctum, more ripple and tone than actual words, thanks to her earplugs. They didn’t actually stop her from hearing anything, but they were enough that she could choose not to listen if she wanted to. Brody was probably right, but still, extra sessions went on the report. If it looked like she was slipping, would they pull her back? Maybe they’d use it as an excuse. She hadn’t given them one so far, and so far she’d made it…
July almost
, she realized. Almost a year. The thought left her shaken. She’d made it almost twelve months. She hadn’t thought she’d make it twelve weeks. What would happen when—
if
she made it a year? Would that be good enough for them? Would they hand her back to Proom? Would they give him the green light to go again, find another round of kids as angry and stupid and alone as she was and have it start all over? What if they found out she was still just as fucked up as when she came here? All that time and money, and still too broken to work. Would they just send someone? Would they make Brody do it? He could handle her; that’s why they sent her here, after all. And she…trusted him.
Almost a year, Ashley thought again, and her chest ached. Proom’d probably get all the doctors to sign a card. He did that sometimes, sent little notes, money on her birthday and Christmas. Brody always got to them first and shredded them, but she’d seen the envelopes and the handwriting, and knew whom it was from. It was enough to know he’d sent them. She wondered if that was Proom’s idea of a sick joke, if he was doing it on purpose. Or if he just thought he was being polite.
What if Proom found out she was getting better—okay, not better, but faster, stronger, that she could take more? Brody probably knew. He’d notice she was staying out longer, coming in later. She was going to have to ask him for some thicker sunglasses soon. It should’ve bothered her more that he knew. Except Brody was…safe. Safer. But if Proom—if he knew, he would want her
back
. And they—Director Cole—he would let Proom do it. He’d want to know what was working, and why. Her breathing went shallow. It was hard to suck in enough air.
The door to Doc’s Fortress of Solitude opened and she came out, followed by—
Ashley shot up, ramrod straight, gripping the seat of her chair with both hands. That guy. From the taco joint. The one that looked at her, the one that
knew
.
“Ashley?”
There was a creaking
pop
, and a crack arced down the seat of her chair, away from her fingers.
“
Ashley
.”
The doc’s voice jolted her back. She was looking at Ashley expectantly. Ashley nodded; it was the most she could manage on short notice.
“I said I’m sorry we ran late. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
Ashley tried to nod again. It didn’t work, but it was sort of implied.
The doctor turned to the guy, put a hand on his shoulder. “Good-bye, Cam. I hope I’ll see you again.”
The guy nodded, and the doctor disappeared back into her office.
Ashley tried not to focus on him, or the bubble of panic in her chest, expanding until it felt like her ribs would burst. How did he know? That question had been eating at her every fucking minute of the day. She had no goddamn idea, but she knew—she
knew
that
he
knew. It was driving her crazy.
“Go ahead, ask me.”
Her head snapped up in surprise. She hadn’t expected that voice. Low and calm and cool. An accent, too, but it seemed to fit with this long, lean boy who somehow made a T-shirt and jeans look like a suit.
“Ask me,” he said again.
“Can—can you sit over there?” she managed, nodding at the opposite side of the room.
Cam hesitated.
“Please,” she rasped.
He didn’t go across the room. He took the seat right
next
to her, moving slow, steady. Like he was dealing with a wild animal—Which you are, Ashley thought, and hated herself in that moment. His scent was clouding her head; cool, clean and cool, it swirled through her in fresh, clear spirals.
“You’re not going to do anything.” His voice was quiet, but the words caught her up short. She was leaning towards him, she realized, and flattened herself against the back of the chair. Ashley shut her eyes against it. Nose plugs. She really needed to invest in nose plugs, if there was such a thing. The doctors didn’t tell you about
that
. Oh, no, they mentioned the speed, and the strength, they put you into a coma lecturing about changes in your metabolism, she’d had
days
of eye tests after the damn implants went in, but they didn’t say a
word
about the nose.
“I need to talk to you.”
What? “What?” She opened her eyes to stare at him.
Blue eyes. They filled her vision. He had such blue eyes, and something inside her wound tighter even as she managed to make her fingers relax. Boys shouldn’t have eyes like that. Made it hard to look at anything else.
“I need to talk to you,” he repeated. “What are you doing after?” He nodded at the doctor’s office.
The unreality of it startled her into laughing. She could feel the sound vibrating deep in her chest, raw against her ribs. “Are you—asking me out on a
date
?”
“Let’s just call it coffee.” Dimples winked in his cheeks as he smiled. “But I could get prettied up for you if you want.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“High tea, then.” His expression turned serious. “But I do need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About what you almost did to that boy in Paco’s.”
Ashley shot to her feet, away from him. “I didn’t do
anything
to him.”
“I know what you almost did. What you wanted to do.”
He wouldn’t stop
staring
at her. “What kind of freak are you?”
“I don’t know. What kind of freak are you? Most girls I know wouldn’t be able to rip a man’s throat out.”
“I
didn’t
—”
The doc came out from her office. “Is everything all right?” She took in the two of them, then said, “Ashley, I’ve finished up, you can come in now. Good-bye, Cam.”
“Good-bye, ma’am, and thank you,” he said, eyes still on Ashley. He nodded at her and left.
He waited outside, but she must’ve seen him and headed off in a different direction. He was going to see her on Tuesday; still, when he got back, Cam called Brody’s, left his name and number, and asked Ashley to call him.
She didn’t, but then he hadn’t expected her to. There was a fine line between concerned and creepy, and Cam had the feeling he was on the wrong side of it.
Cam took to wandering around the island on his off hours. He’d pick a random direction and set off, getting in as much ground as he could, usually stopping by the police station on his way back. They knew his name now, even if they didn’t have any work for him. He wondered if it was normal for a town this size to have so many Missing posters.
He told himself he wasn’t looking for
her
, that he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. He was just walking, enjoying the sun and the solitude. It wasn’t a complete lie. But he still didn’t see anything, and it seemed she was very good at avoiding people.
He picked the beach today. Meg said she liked to run on the beach. There was a trail that wound down through the sand, cutting behind the dunes. It gave him a measure of privacy and, every now and then when the dunes dipped, a glimpse of the sea. Maybe if he saw her, if she didn’t see him, she wouldn’t have time to run.
Cam was a half-hour in when he heard something…off. Something that wasn’t the soft crash of the waves or the wailing of sea birds. It was a strange, wet, tearing sound.
He followed the trail another ten minutes in. The noise paused, then came again. And there was something else. Almost like growling. But it wasn’t an animal. It was almost human.
Cam ran. He didn’t think, he just ran, panic tasting like copper in the back of his throat.
Another twist in the path brought him to an open stretch of beach, and to her. Her back to him, and she was clutching—a rabbit? The small furry body hung limp from her fingers. She was crouched over it, her teeth at its neck, her body shuddering as she ripped off ragged bites. Cam barely had time to stop, to take in, when she stopped suddenly. Turned. Blood dripped down her chin, staining her mouth ruby.
She moved so fast; he didn’t have a chance. She was just
there
, fingers closing around his throat, sand rivering under his shirt and down his jeans as she pressed him into a dune.
“
You
—”
“Ashley—” He forced it out, forced himself not to panic.
“—you’ve been
watching
me, you’ve been
after
me—why have you been after me?” Her voice was high, panicked; it didn’t sound human.
“—told you—” It came out a croak. “—want to—talk—”
“So
talk
,” she growled.
He could feel her fingers digging into his neck as he forced in air. She had him pinned. Cam tried to struggle, to wrench her hands away, but it was like pulling at steel cords. God, she was so strong, how could she be so
strong
?
“You’re going to have to hit harder than that.”
The plea in her voice had him looking up. Going still. Calm, stay calm. “No.” He let go of her. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I will—”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I do.”
“—you don’t know how easy it is for me.” Her fingers tightened around his throat. “If you hit hard enough, you’ll have a chance to run.”
“No,” he told her. “Don’t be silly.”
That set her back for a moment—a moment was all he needed. Slow, steady, he pulled his sleeve over his hand, and slowly, very slowly, cupped her jaw. Ashley flinched at the touch, but he didn’t let go. Gently, as if dealing with a child, he wiped her face clean.
Underneath the blood, her face was very pale. “I did it. I did it. I thought—I didn’t think. It ran, I followed.”
“And made a hell of a mess,” he said, folding his sleeve over to get to a clean part of it.
“They think I’m wild.” It came out from deep in her chest, agonized. “They think I can’t control myself.”
“They’re wrong.”
“
No, they’re not!
” She was shaking now. “I killed—I can’t handle it—they
have
to end it now—”
“No, they don’t.” He gave her face a final inspection. This close, her scars were everything. The worst one pulled at her bottom lip, hooked under her jaw. “Much better.”
Her thumb massaged the pulse point at the base of his neck. He could feel the strength radiating out it, the trembling that he knew was her holding herself back. It should’ve hurt. He should’ve been scared. “I’ll hurt you. I can’t help it. I want to.”
“No, you won’t. I saw you in Paco’s. You wanted to attack that boy. You did not hurt him. You will not hurt me.”
“You’re lying,” she said in a tight voice.
“I am not. I won’t let you.”
She laughed at that, relaxed her hold. Cam wrapped his hands around her wrists. She jerked back at the touch, but he held on.
“You’re not going to hurt anybody. Not ever. Because I’ll be watching you. You try something, you even think about trying something, I’ll see you. And I’ll stop you.”
“You can’t. You can’t know that.”
“I’m psychic,” he said.
“Bull
shit
,” she shot back.
“It is not.”
Somehow he was holding onto her. She was trying to pull back, and he was holding onto her. She was staring down at his hands on her skin, or at least he thought she was. It was hard to tell with those damn sunglasses. He felt her pulse hammering under his fingertips. Christ, he felt every
bone
. She was nothing but bones, nothing but points and angles and hard edges. Then he remembered her mouth. Her mouth had been soft.
“You don’t know—what I can do. You can’t stop me. You won’t be able to. I can’t stop me,” she whispered.
“I’ll find a way.”
Ashley grabbed him then, her fingers digging in. He fought back a wince. “
Promise.
”
“Whatever it takes,” Cam promised, “I’ll stop you.”
He didn’t realize she let go at first. He felt the phantom pressure of her fingers even as he slid down the dune. Air rushed in, making his throat ache. “Ashley—”
She shook her head fiercely. She was crouched over a few feet from him, as if she were trying to pull inside herself. After a moment she stood, and ran.
Cam sat on the beach a long time, waiting for the feeling of her fingers around his throat to fade.