Wicked Sense (7 page)

“Hey
,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

She turns, unfazed,
as if expecting me. “Hey, you.” She examines the embarrassing piece of Swedish engineering surrounding me. “Nice ride,” she says. Then she burst
s
out in a laugh
that would
make Sean proud.

“Want one? Apparently,
all you need is a brush with death
, and they
give you one of these beauties.
” I slide my finger
across the dashboard.

“I could go for a coffee,”
Skye
says
out of thin air
. Before I have time to answer, she walks behind the car.
I’m still stunned
when
s
he opens the passenger
door and climbs inside.

Uh-oh
.
Is this a date?
I
really
should start
planning
these things
better
.

He takes me to this ch
arming, run-down coffee house on
Broadway. We sit outside, watching the
people traffic
and
listening to
the
city noise
. Cars with rainbow flags,
a hot dog vendor joking with his customers
,
a couple of girls
with
pink
hair, a bunch of college students with full backpacks and white earphones
. Whenever a homeless guy asks for change, Drake happily obliges.

I sip my e
s
presso, the third today, and ask about the car.
He tells me his father wants h
i
m to be safe
.

“
Speaking of safe, h
e also warned me about you. He said you’re a bad influence
,”
Drake
says.

I laugh
.
“He did not!”

“He
should have
,” he says with a straight face.
“
I mean, can you blame him? He doesn’t know anything about you, and it seems
you and I will
be hanging out a lot.”

I raise my eyebrows.
“Will we?”

Drake makes a defensive gesture.
“That’s what he says.
If only
he
knew you better
.
Come on, tell me about yourself.
”

He doesn’t know it, but he’s a charmer. I have to ask Priscilla
about Drake’s past. I stand up and announce,
“I’m going to get a scone. Do you want anything?”

“Are you trying to buy time?” He nails it.

“No, I’
m trying to buy a scone,” I say
,
cheekily,
and go inside the coffeehouse. While waiting for my treat, I think about what I can volunteer.
H
iding too much will only attract attention. I feel like I owe him the truth, or
,
at least, a slice of
the
truth. For what we went
through together
in
the woods
.

While I’m at the counter waiting for my scone, I sense a
nother
Sister
. It’s a faint
signature, but my instinct
s
make me
look around the coffeehouse.
I
peek
outside, through the windows. The source is not moving. I close my eyes for an instant, trying to shut out my other senses. I feel it. It’s coming
from
way down the road.

I return with my scone,
but
stop by the door, still inside. I stare in the direction the signature comes from,
but it’s impossible to recognize a face from
this
distance. However, I see something else: a bright red bike, about
two
blocks from us. Jane.

She probably thinks she’s at a safe dis
tance to spy on us. And why not? In her mind,
if
she doesn’t sense me, it
mean
s
I can’t sense her either. However, she doesn’t know about my
long-ranging
True Sight Charm
.

I wonder why
she would
follow us. I chalk it up to curiosity about another
Sister
coming into her territory. If she’s as anti-social as
Connor
says, it makes sense.

Drake still awaits me
. A
nd an answer as well. I almost forgot about him.

Partially hidden by the door, I peek at him.
He seems to be watching something amusing on the street, because a
n easy smile sprouts from his
lips. When he smiles, his whole face lights up
:
his eyes sparkle, his eyebrows arch, his angular chin becomes more prominent. The olive skin and
the hazel eyes are a good match. Yep, he’s cute.

I
’d
better not keep him waiting.
I
go outside to our table,
sit down, and say, “I’m from
London. I mean,
I’ve been living in America
on and off
for
a few years now.” I bite
into
the scone
;
it’s pure blueberry
yumminess
.

“
Where?
”

“
New York
,
m
ostly.
And
Vancouver. And
other places. My mother travels a lot,” I say, my mouth full.

“No father?” When I nod
, he continues. “Sorry, it’s none
of my business, but I have a single parent too. My mom left us when I was
little
.”

I know;
his father was candid when
we were
at the hospital.
It seemed as if
Mr. Hunter
felt compelled to justify
Drake’s mother
’s
absence
. But I just say, “
My father
died
before I was born
.
Mum
never married
him
.
Or anyone else.
” It’s true. She had lots of boyfriends, though.

What I don’t say is that
my mother is Katherine
Lexington-Ellis
, a British theater legend
who’s
been working in Hollywood and
in
indie movies since she won her Oscar
nine
years ago. I also omit that
she’s a witch
. She named me Skye, after the Scottish island where
my parents met
.
Mum told me
he was a charming,
powerful male witch
, but just a fling
.

Drake
awakens me from my reverie. “Are you here with her? Do you have plans to move soon?”

“No, I’m staying with a friend of hers,
my
Aunt Gemma.”

“So, you’re not an exchange student, after all,” he says,
sounding
pleased.

“No, I’m here to stay,” I lie.
Actually, I’m here until we find the Singularity.

He seems satisfied, so I finish my scone in silence, ab
sorbing the vibe of this place
. I
’ve
lived i
n so many cities, so many hotel
rooms,
with
so many tutors.
Mum
was always on set, or in another room with
her
male lead. Now she’s onstage in London, and the Mothers sent me here.
Alone.

I don’t want to think about it and I steer the conversation toward
more mundane things. “Who
are
your friends? The ones with you on my first day?”

“The short one with
a
buzz cut is Sean. The one that looks like the Terminator is Boulder.”

“Sean shouldn’t wear sideburns
and
a soul patch.”

He chuckles. “I know.
And you met
Sean
after he
trimmed them. You
should have
seen him before.”

The conversation dies a little after that.

Drake sips his coffee slowly, watching the
city
come alive, but glances at me from time to time. We don’t feel like we have to say something. It’s a nice feeling.

I don’t sense Jane’s energy anymore. She’s gone. Good.

The sights draw my attention again
. Three-story red brick buildings surround us.
On the street, an old
car
stands out
. On its baby-
blue side
s
someone painted
an underwater scene
,
complete with
starfish
, do
l
phins,
several types of
fish
,
and
seahorses
.

My eyes follow the
strange
car passing on the
road
. Only because of the car I notice
the
statue of
a kneeling
Jimi
Hendrix
on the next block
.
What an odd city.

When
I turn
back to Drake, I catch him
looking
at me
.
He keeps staring
while
I chase
after
the scone crumbs on the table and stuff them in my mouth.

“What?” I mumble, my mouth full.

Drake
smiles
and says, “Have you seen the troll yet?”

We
’re
headed to
Aurora Avenue, but
she receives a call.
She has to go home.
I turn around.
I’ll show her the Fremont Troll later.

While I’m driving her back, she
says,
“S
o, Priscilla tells me you’re a good kisser.”

Huh? “I
’ve
never kissed her,” I say. I’d like to, but I haven’t.

“She says that’s the word around
school
. So, what’s up with that? Did you kiss all the other girls in school?”

Oh, I know
. “No, I kissed just one.
Brianna
.
But she gossips a lot.”

Skye
chuckles. I hope it’s from my joke, not from my lack of e
xperience. But I see an opening and
take
a
chance.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you have a boyfriend?
”
I
make an
effort to avoid
being hypnotized by
her
unreal
blue eyes
.

“No.” I was hoping for more, but I see her tensing a little bit.

Since she’s new to the city, I take the longest route I can. I think of something to break the tension.
“Girlfriend?” I ask. She chuckles again. “Husband?”
She snorts.

“No, I’m free as a bird,
as they say.
But I’m
not looking for some
body.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, maybe somebody is looking for you.”

She shakes her head,
and then
she stares at me.
“If you know what to say
at all times
, how come you
don’t have a girlfriend?
”

I shrug, my eyes on the road. “I guess I’m very selective.”

She looks away, to the houses passing
by
out
her window. I hope she’s not into my trick to stretch our time together.

“You have a sister, right? Mona?”
s
he asks, still not facing me.

That’s an unexpected segue. “Yeah.”