Touching Smoke (22 page)

I mean, was there a way to make him understand that I was scared? My mom spent my whole life running from the man, from that life. Did I really want to go back and find out why? She obviously had a reason. Besides, what if he didn’t want to see me? What if it was a big mistake? What did I do then? He was the only family I had left, this mysterious father of mine. What if he didn’t want me?

“We have to, Fallon,” his warm fingers curled over mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. “He’s the only one who can help us. Garrison is not going to give up. We won’t escape next time.” He shook my hand until I was looking at him. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll never leave your side. I promise.”

I looked away, terrified by the blinding truth blazing behind his eyes.

“I’m hungry.” It wasn’t a complete lie or a cowardly attempt to change the subject. I’d been surreptitiously sneaking peeks at the vein in his neck for nearly an hour. I was sure he’d begun to notice it too. The saliva was barely containable when I talked. Nevertheless, “For food,” I added quickly, more to remind myself.

He sighed at the last part. “I don’t know if I want to push our luck with another diner.”

“Drive-thru?” I suggested, hopeful, needing to get moving.

His gaze pinned me, searching my face. “What did you dream about last night?”

I stared in surprise at the question. “Pardon?”

“You were talking in your sleep. You kept mumbling someone’s name.”

Amalie. It had to be. I didn’t dream about very much else.

“Amalie Nicolette Dennison,” I murmured quietly, staring down at my hands.

“Who is she?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never met her.” I chuckled quietly when he arched a questioning brow. “She just comes into my dreams once in a while. She hasn’t since…” Mom died, but I didn’t say it out loud.

His brows creased in the middle. “How long have you been having these dreams?”

I tried to think when I first started seeing Amalie. “Seems like forever,” I answered finally. “But maybe six or seven months now.”

“What are the dreams about?” he asked.

I sighed, rubbing my palms over the rough grains of my jeans while staring off over the Impala towards the narrow path leading to our private shelter. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t remember them half the time, only small pieces that never make any sense.”

“Tell me.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m in a room, and I’m always kneeling next to a desk. Amalie is sitting there, writing in a journal. I can never make out more than her name.”

His brows creased thoughtfully. “You’ve never seen her face?”

I shook my head. “I know she has long, black hair, but that’s it.”

Isaiah made a deep humming sound, but didn’t ask anything else.

“Do you think these dreams mean something?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Possibly. There are those who have a psychic connection with certain people.”

“Do you think she’s alive?”

His head turned in my direction. “Do you think she’s not?”

I felt my face draw together in a frown of contemplation. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling… she always says something just before I wake up…” I remembered, scraping through my memory for the words. “
’He’ll never stop.’
”

That seemed to get Isaiah’s attention. “Who?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“What did you say her name was?”

“Amalie Nicolette Dennison.”

“I’ve never heard of her.” He suddenly lunged to his feet, making me jump in fright. “Let’s get food.”

“Wha…” I hurried to my feet. “That’s it?”

I got no response, only a jerk of his head signaling for me to hurry up. I went to him and took the helmet he offered it. The leather was warm through my jeans as I straddled the bike and embraced his middle with my arms. I snuggled closer than I would have normally; needing the comfort, he gave off like heat. Pressed against him like that, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth, I felt untouchable, safe… normal. I couldn’t tell if he noticed my proximity. If he did, he didn’t show it or comment.

The engine roared with a kick of his foot on the gas. My grip on him tightened, but I kept my eyes open this time. The speed was still something I needed to get used to. The sudden jerk was not pleasant, like being shoved backwards into the seat of a rollercoaster. But I hung on to Isaiah and tried not to squeeze my eyes closed. The rushing scenery didn’t help matters, but the more I pretended not to see them, the quicker we arrived at the parking lot of McDonalds.

“We might not be able to get take-out,” Isaiah said, pulling over to the side. “No cup holders,” he explained. “How hungry are you? Do you think you’ll be okay to go inside?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t really been hungry since the feeding I got from him in the woods. There were moments when I felt the twinge of hunger, but it wasn’t anything as desperate as before. I probably could have gone a while longer before getting something into my system, but I didn’t want to take that chance, especially since I had no idea when his blood would wear off.

“I’m okay,” I told him, testing the tickle at the back of my throat. Everyone was temporarily safe for the time being.

Isaiah cut the engine and slipped off the bike. I took off the helmet and accepted the hand he offered. He didn’t release me when I got off. Whether it was because he wanted to keep me close in case we were attacked, or because he wanted to make sure I didn’t do the attacking, I didn’t ask or let go.

Inside, kids where everywhere, yelling and screaming. Balloons, wrapping paper and cupcakes littered the floors and most of the tables. A silvery banner hung on the back wall, announcing someone’s birthday. I assumed it was the rosy-faced girl with the bushel of ginger curls, freckles and two Barbie dolls clutched tight in both fists. Her brown eyes were alight with joy, enhanced by the six glowing candles on the cake in front of her. Behind her, beaming with pride and unshed tears stood an older version of the girl with equally red hair, freckles and tawny-brown eyes. The woman smiled at the squealing and clapping crowd standing around the table. She placed a freckled hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s my birthday today!” I just remembered, never looking away when the girl puffed up her cheeks and blew. Only two went out. The crowd still cheered, prompting her to try again.

“It is,” Isaiah murmured quietly from beside me.

I slicked my suddenly dry lips. “My mom did that for me once when I was seven. She took me to McDonalds for my birthday. It was just the two of us, but…” my teeth found my bottom lip, not lighting up, not even when the taste of copper filled my mouth. I turned away from the punishing scene, screwing all my attention doggedly on the menu. “What are you getting?”

I felt the squeeze of his fingers straight down to my toes. He said more with that single gesture than words ever could. His unwavering strength was quickly becoming a fixture that I couldn’t bear to be without, and I think that scared me more than Garrison ever could.

“Next please!” The tired girl behind the register waved us over, sizing me up, then Isaiah, probably as confused by the matchup as I was. “What can I get you?”

“I’m sorry!” The mom from the birthday party appeared at my elbow, cheeks rosy, sheepish smile on her pretty face. “I just need a few more napkins please. We had a drink spill back at the table.”

The teller did not look amused, as if it was her responsibility to mop up all spills with toothbrush and spit. “I’ll have someone come clean it up.”

The mom looked even more embarrassed. “Could we get some more napkins anyway?”

The girl sighed, just stopping short of rolling her eyes. She dug beneath the counter and came up with a wad of napkins, and thrust them towards the woman.

“Thank you!”

Whether the girl let go too soon or the mom hadn’t grabbed them all properly, napkins fluttered from the pile and littered the counter and floor. I broke away from Isaiah and quickly grabbed two before they could hit the ground.

The mom smiled. “Oh, thank you!”

I returned her smile, passing the napkins over. “You’re welcome—”

The rush was like a punch in the chest. I actually tumbled back a full step, coming right up against Isaiah. The napkins slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the floor like snowflakes as I reeled with horror.

Blood — everywhere — on everything. I could smell it. Taste it. The stench was so powerful. It dripped off the white porcelain basin, forming a crimson puddle under the curled, unmoving fingers dangling inches from the ground. A bracelet of red circled the tiny wrist matching the one floating lifelessly in the soiled water. Eyes of tawny-brown stared at me from a face as white as spilt milk, no longer sparkling with happiness, no longer seeing anything.

With a gasp, I crashed back to reality and the same tawny-brown eyes. They were full of life and concern now as they watched me from a small, heart-shaped face. It only took a second to realize what I’d just seen.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked me in a soft, uncertain voice. In no way was there even a hint that she was about to go home and—on her daughter’s birthday of all days.

“Don’t do it!” I blurting, panting. “Please—”

She visibly recoiled back as if I’d struck her. Her already fair complexion lost its remaining color beneath the freckles. She looked deathly.

Her eyes darted to the faces no watching us, never once touching on me again. “What—I don’t…”

“You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded, trembling from head to toe, my mouth dry, my throat tasting of my heart. “You don’t—”

She suddenly spun on her heels and elbowed her way through the crowd back to the party, napkins forgotten.

“Fallon?” I jolted, having forgotten Isaiah and the unyielding grip he had on my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“That woman… I have to stop her!” I wheezed, pointing in the direction the woman had taken.

I waited for him to question me, to tell me to explain or stop making a scene. Instead, he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the side of the restaurant where the party was taking place, ignoring the curious stares that followed us.

The mom looked practically sick when we rounded the corner. Her brown eyes darted from her daughter’s smiling face back to us, silently warning us. She had us. How could I confront her with the child sitting right there? How could I ruin that day for her? But I couldn’t let the woman do what she was thinking of doing. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

“Please,” I mouthed instead, praying she understood my plea.

She shook her head, averting her face. The knuckles on the hand she had rested on her daughter’s shoulders blistered white.

“Ow, Mommy!”

The hand was instantly lifted and the smile was back full blast. “Sorry, sweetie.”

And just like that, it was over. She would stand there, celebrate her daughter’s sixth birthday, go home and make her daughter motherless. I couldn’t let her.

“Fallon…”

I ignored Isaiah as I pushed through the crowd of children and laughing parents. I went straight up to the mother’s side, despite her attempt to move away, and leaned in close.

“Your daughter will never forgive you if you do what you’re planning,” I hissed just for her ears. “You’re the only mom she has.”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she growled, the sound strangled. “Leave us alone or I’m calling the police!”

I drew back and stared into her eyes, seeing the fear and uncertainty shining there. “Look at her. It’s her birthday. How could… don’t be selfish.”

The woman straightened, squaring her shoulders. “I want you to go. Now!”

“Marian?” A leggy blonde stepped up alongside the mom. She eyed me, then Isaiah, curiosity crinkling her dainty brows. “Is everything all right?”

The mom—Marian—cleared her throat. “Yes, everything is fine, Shannon.”

“No!” I shouted. “Everything is not fine!”

“Leave!” Marian screamed, bringing the party to a screeching standstill.

“I’ll tell them!” I threatened. “I’ll—”

“You get away from us, you freak!”

The title was like a slap. She could have physically struck me and I would have felt it less. I’d never been called a freak before. I never realized what a powerful taunt it was until that moment. But the way everyone was now watching me, a mixture of confusion and disgust, I really felt like a freak. I felt naked and vulnerable under their penetrating eyes.

Warm, gentle hands rested on my shoulders, silently drawing me back against a rugged chest. Coiling strength wrapped around me, cocooning me protectively. 

I licked my lips. “Please, don’t do it,” I forced myself to whisper, realizing there was nothing I could do to stop her. “Think of your daughter.”

The girl in question was watching me with wide, brown eyes, so much like her mothers. She had frosting on her face and down the front of her green party dress. Most of her Barbie was covered as well. She had no idea that that would be the last time she would ever see her mother. She would never know that as soon as her mother tucked her in, read her a story and kissed her goodnight, she would draw herself a bath and never leave it.