The Violet Awakening (The Elementum Trinity Book 2) (10 page)

“Why didn’t Al know this? Shouldn’t he have been able to read William’s mind?” I asked, gnawing on my thumbnail, which was a habit I saved for only the most nerve-wracking situations.

Lily’s eyes
followed me back and forth across the room.

“
Parts of William’s mind were protected. Al wasn’t able to get much information out of him while he was there,” she said, staring blankly ahead. She sat up straighter, as if suddenly realizing she had said too much.

“Protected? How?” I asked, shaking my head. There were so many confusing things happening, it was causing my brain to swim in a hazy fog, and I wished for nothing more than to spontaneously combust.

Lily stood, brushing wrinkles from her shirt as she spoke without emotion. “You should all get some rest, we’ll leave first thing in the morning. William is going to be looking for the others, and if their technology is as advanced as Emmy says, he may already be capable of using Al’s power to find them.”

I looked away as a prickle of pain ran through Lily’s eyes at the mention of Al’s name. I tried to imagine how I would have felt if Lakin had been the one captured. My stomach turned at the thought. I couldn’t fathom how the woman in front of me was remaining so strong, and so intent on carrying out the plans we had made. Then I remembered how Mattie and Jason had taken over when Al was lost. Maybe
it was just an Elementum-thing—ignoring your own pain and concerns for the sake of everyone else. It certainly wasn’t a human trait I had witnessed often in my life.

“I set up the beds in the spare rooms at the end of the hall. You are
more than welcome to take those. I’ll have mom stay at Gabe’s tonight,” Lily said, turning to Emmy and the girls. “Angie, I’ll sleep on the couch if you and Lakin would like to take my room.”

I couldn’t keep a snort of surprise from escaping my mouth. In the midst of all that was happening, Lily was only worried about making everyone else comfortable. She would probably make a wonderful mother, someday.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be fine sleeping on the floor again,” I said, eyeing Lakin, who was nodding in agreement. “What do we tell the others?”

Lily chewed her bottom lip in thought, for a moment. “Everything.”

I stared at the eerily-green grass, holding Lakin’s hand as we sat on the steps outside Lily’s house. The ghost of morning light filtered down through the water overhead, washing everything out so that it looked like a photo, faded with age. Jackie was curled up next to me, her loud purrs providing a soothing soundtrack to the Eden. She had slept directly above my head the night before, and since I hadn’t died in my sleep of a freak blunderbuss accident, I d
ecided she wasn’t so bad.

We’d told Bryant and Joseph that we would be coming to g
et them, today. Bryant first, since he lived the closest. We didn’t know where Nadia was, as she had no idea which hospital she was in, let alone which state, but Lily assured us that if
we
couldn’t find her, it was unlikely that William would be able to. At that moment, Nadia was safer than any of us. Lyla hadn’t shown up in the Room at all, no doubt still trying to avoid being dragged into ‘hippie-commune’ life, so we were left with only the knowledge that she was somewhere in New York City. Probably. Maybe.

Reagan and Nixon appeared at our feet, looking up at us with tired smiles. They were staying with Emmy and the girls while we were gone, partly so they didn’t have to be alone in a peculiar place all day, and partly because Lily didn’t quite trust the strangers. Judging by their expressions, and the quiet of the Eden, it was obvious that Elementums were not morning-people.

I turned as Lily pulled open the door, eyebrows creased with concern. Looking past her, I could see Emmy bustling about the kitchen.

“She just… started cooking…” she whispered, eyeing me nervously.

“Yeah, she does that.”

“Great, I am starving,” Nixon yawned, rubbing his stomach as he shuffled past us.

“Be safe,” Reagan whispered to me as she trailed after her brother.

“Oh my, aren’t you a large fellow.” I heard Emmy mutter from inside th
e house, followed by, “That’s a… very
interesting
color.”

“Are you ready?” Lily asked, not really waiting for a response from either of us.

Lakin and I followed her away from the Eden, and down the dark tunnel. I eyed her white cotton gloves curiously, as she removed one to open the stone doorway behind the waterfall. It was far too warm for winter-wear, but I figured she probably just had an odd sense of fashion.

I wasn’t quite familiar with our typical path through the woods, but I was aware that we were heading in a
different direction than usual; instead of walking toward town, we were walking around the pond, keeping the water to our right. Before long, we came upon an old cabin that looked like it was about to fall in on itself. Shrubbery had all but overtaken the front porch, and the windows were so thick with dust, the dim glow of light from inside could barely be seen.

“What are we doing?” Lakin asked, hesitantly following Lily up the steps.

“Going to see an old friend.”

Before Lily was even able to knock, an elderly woman lunged through the door, waving her cane around wildly in what she probably thought was our direction. Thick glasses threatened to launch themselves from the nest of white hair on top of her head.

“I don’t want your cookies!” she shouted, clear-gray eyes barely focusing on any one of us.

“We don’t have any cookies,” Lily said, flattening herself against the porch railing to avoid being struck by the cane. Even through the surprise
, I laughed, instantly thinking of the hundreds of snickerdoodles that resided in the Eden. I didn’t know who this woman was, but it seemed like she would have gotten along pretty well with Lily’s mother.

“Well, whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it. You are trespassing, and I won’t hesitate to shoot you.” The wrinkles around her mouth sharpened as she pursed her lips, shakily holding up one of her hands to vaguely resemble a gun.

I glanced at Lakin, half with amusement and half with concern for the well-being of everyone on the porch. He shook his head and shrugged, looking back to the old woman with entertained eyes.

“Even if you were able to hit us, Abigail, I don’t know how much damage you would really be able to do with that,” Lily said light-heartedly, removing one of her gloves and placing her palm on the woman’s hand-gun. For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of purple gleam in the woman’s eyes as her demeanor suddenly became that of a friendly, old grandma, who was likely to force-feed you last year’s baked goods at Christmas.

“Oh, Lily,” Abigail cooed, lowering her cane to lean on as she stretched her arm out to its full extent to pat Lily on the cheek. “It’s been so long, I didn’t even recognize you.”

“These might help,” Lily said, lowering the woman’s glasses down to her nose.

Abigail’s eyes became massive behind her spectacles, jerking and blinking as her vision focused. Her gaze landed on me, and her jaw dropped, tautly stretching the wrinkles around her mouth.

“It can’t be… Melody?” the old woman breathed, taking an unsteady step toward me.

“No,” Lily said, placing a kind hand on Abigail’s shoulder, “this is Angie… Mel’s daughter.”

I gasped as my lungs took an unexpected intermission from their usual programming. I’d never thought to ask anyone what my mother’s name was, but without even realizing, Grace had already told me.

“You knew my mom?” I whispered. I had intended my question to be much louder, for fear that her ears wouldn’t be able to hear me, but a whisper was all I could manage through the commercial break of The Angie Network’s newest hit drama; Respiratory System: Failure.

“Of course, dear. I knew her well. My, you look so like her,” Abigail said, face contorting into a drooping smile as she placed a cold, spotty hand on my cheek. There it was again—the purple flash in her eyes, magnified and distorted by the thick glasses. It lasted less than a second, but I’d seen it… I was sure. “Though, your resemblance stops at the skin, doesn’t it?”

The woman withdrew her hand quickly, staring at me with a look of utter disappointment, and leaving me without an explanation for her cryptic thought.

“You’ll stay for tea?” she asked suddenly, twisting her head toward Lily.

“Actually, we’re in quite a hurry,” Lily began.

“You’ll stay for tea.” The old woman’s tone didn’t give us much choice, as she hobbled into the house, taking great care when she stepped up through the doorway.

The inside of the cabin was small, basically one room, and looked pretty comparable to the outside. The couch-cushions were all caved in, and bits of fluff poked out from the seams, like clouds trying to escape from a tattered prison. The faded wood floors creaked unnervingly with each step. The stove-top seemed to be coated in a decade’s-worth of grease, and most of the kitchen table was covered in dust as thick as velvet, except for near the seat where Abigail must have frequented. It was obvious that the old woman rarely had company, and I understood why Lily was not stricter about us needing to leave. It seemed like such a lonely life, especially for someone who probably didn’t have much life left.

One tiny section of the house stood out amongst the rest. It was well-organized, dust-free, and the floor was worn from ages of traffic. The entire wall in the kitchen was covered with photographs, beautifully framed and precisely hung. Perhaps it was how she managed to survive within her loneliness—she had the past to keep her company.

As Lily helped Abigail fiddle around with the ancient stove, Lakin and I examined the wall of photos. There’s something oddly comforting about looking at a stranger’s past. You begin to feel like you’ve made a new friend, even though you don’t really know them. The oldest pictures looked like something out of a high-school yearbook; a headshot of a young woman, posed to gaze longingly at something that was just out of frame. Next to that was a similar photo of a young man, obviously gazing at the same object, both in black-and-white. There was a sepia photo of the man and woman—dressed in a tuxedo, and a wedding gown—standing in front of Freedom Pond. A photo of the young man carrying the woman into a house that looked like a phantom of the decrepit dwelling in which we stood.

Further down the wall, there
was a noticeable shift in era; both, the man and woman, had grown their hair long. In a picture of the couple picking up trash on a beach, crowds of people wore bellbottoms and paisley shirts, and played guitars around campfires. There were pictures of the couple building houses on foreign landscapes; handing out food and water; bathing waterfowl that were slick with oil. And then, the man was no longer in the photos. Only Abigail. She continued her kind and helpful endeavors, but with a sadness in her eyes—an emptiness.

And, there, towards the far end of the photos, when Abigail’s dark hair had started to streak with gray, and lines had begun to creep their way across her face—my mother. Not just my mom, but both of my parents. I had never seen my father, but I recognized him immediately, arm draped around my mother’s shoulder, and dark hair crawling toward his chin. On either sides of them, more recognizable strangers. It was a photo of my generation’s parents, kneeling down on the beach. Behind them, a second row of people I could only assume were humans they had befriended along the way, Abigail to the far-right. Then, I noticed something. Abigail’s eyes. Not just Abigail’s eyes, but those of the other humans in her row. They were all the same clear-gray of the defensive peepers that had tried to whack us with a cane. I glanced back to the older photos. Her eyes were, once, nearly as black as her hair had been.

I jumped at the hand on my shoulder, spinning to meet the curious gaze of the old woman. “Tea, dear?”

I nodded meekly, uttering a quiet ‘thank you’, and trembling as I took the cup. I reached down for Lakin’s hand, forcing his eyes to cloud over momentarily as I flashed this new, peculiar information into his mind. He lowered his brows, turning back toward the photographs to inspect for himself, after he had accepted his own cup.

“Your parents were lovely,” Abigail said, slurping on her tea as she gazed at the wall. “They had such a passion for helping.”

My stomach churned at the way she talked about our parents as if they were dead.

“How did you meet them?” Lakin questioned, eyes trained on the photos.

I heard Lily choke on her tea behind us, coughing to clear the liquid from her throat as she sat the cup on the dusty table.

“I really wish we could stay longer, Abigail, but we must be going. We have a long trip ahead of us, and very little time, I’m afraid.” The old woman squinted past Lily’s obvious ruse, but nodded with a displeased sigh.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting the car,” she said, hobbling herself across the kitchen to a rack that held one set of keys.

“Yes, thank you,” Lily said sincerely, embracing her in a warm hug as she took the key-ring. “We’ll get it back safely.”

“I’m sure you will.” There was something unsettling about Abigail’s tone.

“It was nice to meet you,” Lakin said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to lead me out the door. I couldn’t stop staring at the old woman, and she stared back, those odd eyes feeling as if they were burning into my thoughts. I didn’t know how much danger such an old woman could have possibly been, but I didn’t trust her. And she knew it.

“This is what we’re driving?” Lakin mused, scrunching his face up in mild disgust.

“Do you hav
e a better option?” Lily questioned, ripping the dirty blue tarp from the old van.

I choked, half on dust
and half in fear that the thing would explode before we could make it out of the driveway. I couldn’t have cared less about what the car looked like, but I would have preferred to not die inside of something straight out of the seventies.

“It’ll get us where we need to go. Now, get in.” Lily had taken on an exceptionally bossy demeanor, checking her watch as she hoisted herself into the driver’s seat.

Lakin opened the passenger door for me, before climbing himself into the back.

“Uh… Where are the r
est of the seats?” he asked.

From the outside, the van looked plenty big enough to fit all the people we were planning to collect by the end of the day. How silly of us to assume all the pieces were s
till in the box. Where one might reasonably expect a third row of seats to be, there was nothing but orange shag carpet and old guitars.

For a moment, Lily stared into the rearview mirror—at least that was still intact.

“Someone might have to sit on a lap.”