Chapter 7

I tried not to dwell on the newspaper article. Until I had some real information there wasn’t anything I could do. It was Deb’s day off, so my main source for real information was out of reach. It was difficult though; I couldn’t understand how the discovery had been made so quickly. If the ritual took place last night, then how did it make this morning’s paper? Could they have been tipped off? If it wasn’t important enough to be the big story, then why stop the presses over it? Maybe it was on the border of some star’s property. There were a few hidden movie stars living up there that wouldn’t want that kind of thing going on around them.

I was so angry about it that I was willing to go out –letting my spiritual self leave my body to gather information from the other planes – in the middle of the day without Steven and Jodi to watch out. I knew better than to cast or got out when I was angry. The volatile energy you could tap into was so much more accessible and tempting than the cool controlled energy that took discipline to command. But angry energy was eager to be used and could potentially use you instead.

I drove north, past Ojai and past Santa Barbara and Goleta, taking the San Marcos Pass into the mountains, leaving the freeway far behind me. I turned on to the winding, unpredictable Painted Cave road and found a turn-off I was sure I wasn’t supposed to drive on but it meant I was able to leave any wandering cars behind me.

After I parked I started climbing. The rock surfaces broke away under my fingers occasionally with the consistency of sand, but I kept going. I had once found a grassy ledge when Steven, Jodi, and I had come out here on a fieldtrip to see the Painted Caves and I had wandered off on my own. The residual magic here permeated everything. No matter what the weather, it always seemed like a mild summer’s day. I was still aware of the wind and the biting cold, but it just didn’t affect me like it did outside of this place.

I felt cool soft grass under my fingers finally and pulled myself up onto the ledge, turning to sit with my legs dangling over the edge and took in the breathtaking view. I was able to center myself without even thinking about it. Smiling to myself, I brushed my hands over the grass, letting the blades tickle my palms. Finally, knowing I was already going to be late for my dinner plans, I brought my legs up and crawled to the middle of the ledge and lay down in the soft cushion of grass.

I relaxed my spine with deep, slow breaths and reached up to fan my hair out away from my head. I kicked my shoes off and worked off my socks with my toes, pushing them away with my feet. I rested my arms just away from my body with my palms down on the grass and my legs straight out and slightly apart. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my bare face trying to break through the overcast sky. I took another breath and closed my eyes.

I had the sensation of falling through the ground, my body an anchor in the earth and my sense of self melting away. My body sank a few inches into the ground; my hair, hands and feet merged with the grass and disappeared into it, becoming part of it. I could taste the dry earth in my mouth; I breathed it into myself, becoming the earth, returning to it. My heartbeat slowed and reality changed in one fluid wave of the ocean.

I was standing in a circle of trees, grown so close together they were almost one hollow tree. I reached out and touched one with the flat of my hand, asking silently for passage. Suddenly the ground trembled beneath my feet and the circle expanded, a break growing between two of the trees, just large enough for me to pass through. I stepped out into the mossy forest floor, aware of the sound of the ocean crashing against the beach in the distance.

Following the sound, answering its call, I found my way out of the forest, stepping out onto a twilit beach. The sand was cool between my toes and the sea salted air wafted gently around me. The sun had just passed beyond the horizon. I turned, searching the beach for the source of the pull still tugging at me. I could see the glow of silver coming towards me at a steady pace; instinctively I started towards it to meet it in the middle.

Sooner than I thought possible the light began to take shape as we neared each other and the painfully beautiful face of my guardian angel was smiling at me, just yards away. His black and silver wings opened around him in a deafening crack of thunder, but I didn’t flinch; somehow I had known it was going to happen. He stopped and reached out for me, the tide rose and was lapping at our ankles, soaking the hem of my jeans. I closed the distance between us and he pulled me in close, enfolding us both with his wings and we were one.

I felt the weak sunlight on my face again and opened my eyes to the white and gray expanse of sky. I came back to myself, blinking rapidly to clear my vision and slowly extracted my fingers and feet from the ground. My hair tangled with the roots of the grass, but, with a little effort, they released me. I shivered as a breeze found its way up the mountain and wrapped around me, pressing the wet cuffs of my jeans to my ankles.

I reached for my socks and shoes to pull them back on. My angel didn’t know who had done the casting last night, but knew that it was damaging the delicate fabric of good energy people like me had been creating over the years. When I couldn’t understand how he couldn’t know who it was, he explained that something was blocking them from sensing their identity. That alone was enough to scare me.

 

As I drove down the mountain back into the real world I could hear my cell phone beeping at me as it went in and out of service. I knew I probably had half a dozen voicemails from both Steven and Jodi wanting to know where I was. I chose to ignore the phone and make my way back into the county before calling them back, knowing that with my service cutting in and out it would just be too frustrating to try and figure out their messages.

I tried not to race down the freeway, but the sun had already set and I knew I was even later than I realized. We were supposed to meet for dinner at Jodi’s favorite Italian restaurant around eight o’clock and, by the looks of things, I was gonna be at least a half hour late. I sped off of the freeway at an exit I knew most people wouldn’t have taken, but it would help me miss street traffic and get me to the restaurant quicker. I parked behind the building and went running in. People were standing outside waiting for tables in little clusters, almost hugging the building to escape the cold. I knew the inside would be even more packed, having pushed these poor people out. But that’s what the city’s best garlic bread will do to people.

I pulled open the door to a wave of heat and press of bodies. People shuffled out of my way as I maneuvered between them, trying to look over their heads to see if I could see Jodi or Steven at a table. This was a small, family run restaurant with no more than twenty tables and booths set tightly together. The couple that owned it had started out as mom and dad but now, over twenty years later they were more like grandma and grandpa. Grandma saw me and smiled, (we were regulars here) coming around the bar and cash register to hug me.

“Hi,” I said with a smile over the noise of a dozen conversations. “I’m meeting Jodi and Steven, but I don’t see them?”

“I haven’t seen them, honey,” she said a little confused. “But here, I’ll seat you and they can join you when they get here.” She was already walking away from me before I could protest. I knew all those waiting people wouldn’t understand why some teenager got a table so quickly. But I kept quiet; I have learned there’s really no arguing with Grandmothers. “Here you go, sweetie.” She beamed at me and hurried away. She had sat me in a back booth, giving the illusion that I had gone to meet someone instead of cutting ahead of all of those waiting people.

I pulled out my phone and didn’t see any missed calls so I called my voicemail and heard the automated voice tell me that I had two messages, which I knew meant two cancellations. Great.

“Hey, babe,” I heard Jodi say through a cough. “I got sick at that stupid game last night! I don’t,” she coughed again, “damnit! I don’t know why they don’t let the girls wear pants in that stupid uniform!” She had made the mistake of yelling in her frustration and went straight into a hacking and coughing fit. Instinctively I recoiled from the phone as if she could contaminate me through the speaker. “Anyway, sorry, kiss Steven for me. Jay’s coming over and we’re gonna watch movies. Call me tomorrow and make sure I didn’t die.” Message deleted.

The next message started and I heard Steven yelling in Spanish to someone in the background before speaking into the phone. “Sorry babe. God…” he sighed and was using his annoyed voice. “So my mom says I don’t spend enough time with the family and since every freaking one of them is still here I have to stay too.” I could almost hear him roll his eyes. “So anyway, kiss Jodi for me and call me tomorrow.” Great.

If I got up and left now it would be totally insulting. The bus boy brought me a water and coke and smiled shyly and rushed away. I didn’t really have a problem eating alone, but I hated being cancelled on last minute. Guess I should have checked my phone before I came in. Go me.

Good thing I’m always prepared. I pulled my journal out of my purse and started writing. Inspiration hit as I thought of this morning and Alexis and I found myself writing a poem based on my spell. I ordered the chicken dish I almost always ordered and went back to the page, trying to block out all the voices around me. As I finished the last two lines, I heard very similar voices float back to me over the din of the restaurant. Curiosity got the best of me and I looked up at the booth in front of me and realized, just a second too late, that I was looking at the back of Jensen’s head. I could see the slightly larger outline of Ian on the opposite side of the booth.

“I’m done talking about this,” Ian’s voice sounded very much like a growl. “You better listen to me. We had an agreement; we’re not changing things now. It’s too damn late.” He stood up, not waiting for a response, and stormed out of the restaurant.

“More garlic bread, Shayna dear?” Grandma asked brightly, a steaming basket in her hand. My whole face contracted into a tight mask, holding my breath, hoping I wasn’t as red faced as I felt. I looked up and saw that Jensen had turned in his seat at the sound of my name.

“Oh, no, that’s--”

“We’d love some.” My stomach dropped as Jensen slid smoothly into the bench across from me, flashing a smile at Grandma.

“Oh, are you joining Shay?” She asked.

“Well, since we’re both alone, I figure that gives you an extra table.”

“Thank you, dear.” She set the basket down and winked at me a little too obviously before turning away to go back into the kitchen.

“So we meet again,” he said. I looked up at him and saw just how pleased he seemed to be with himself, even after an argument with his brother.

“Yes, we must stop running into each other like this. Really, we must,” I said.

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?”

“What?” The couple behind me choked on their wine at my outburst. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I leaned over the table a little and whispered angrily, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, the whole school’s talking about it.” He was really enjoying this.

“What?”

“How we’re dating now.”

“We’re not dating,” I protested.

Just then our waiter set our food down in front of us. “Oh no, we’re not together.” I tried to explain but Grandma had already sat a couple at the booth Jensen had been sitting at, filling the restaurant again. “What is happening to today!” I asked the ceiling, slumping down in the booth.

“Hmm, very interesting…” I looked at him and saw that he had picked up my journal and was thumbing through it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded as I snatched it away.

“That must be a replacement; it isn’t much of a grimoire.” The word floored me; not many people knew it.

“It’s just a journal,” I said as I held the book protectively against my chest. He was smirking at me, one eyebrow raised. It dawned on me; I shouldn’t know what a grimoire was either. A grimoire, or a book of shadows, was a witch’s spell book, basically. You write spells, thoughts, anything it in, but its main purpose is a spell book. I chose to ignore the slip.

“Doesn’t look like just a journal.” It almost sounded like a question.

“Ok.”

“And there’s that witty repartee that I’ve come to enjoy so much.” He smiled again, picking up his fork and starting to twine his spaghetti. I had lost my appetite. He took a large bite and stared at me while he chewed; no one looks good while they chew.

“Ok,” he said, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “Obviously I’ve done something to offend you. I would like the opportunity to correct that, but you have to tell me what exactly it is that I did that upset you so much.” He pushed his plate away and folded his hands on top of the table, looking at me expectantly. It was very difficult to remain cold and silent when he set those baby blues on you.

“Well…” I hesitated; did I really want to have this conversation? If I didn’t, would he continue to pester me until I did? Yes. “Look, you just, I don’t know…” I looked around the restaurant like the words were hidden in the walls and I could find them. “You just creeped me out that first day. You know, first impressions are the strongest.” I shrugged at the end, hoping I’d said enough to drive him off. He really was too distracting for me right now.

“And not to mention I saw what you did in the parking lot, or at least what you started to do and that pissed you off.” He said it so calmly; he was challenging me to deny what we both know he saw.

“What? That I happened to see my friend being abused by her boyfriend and was about to intervene when your brother showed up to handle things? So?” I was very impressed with how controlled both my breathing and voice were.

“How did you know to come running just then?”

“What?”

“You weren’t anywhere around and all of a sudden you came running out into the parking lot and then stopped suddenly and started doing something to the ground.” My mouth went dry.

“I could hear Nick yelling.” I was staring him straight in the eye; I didn’t want to give him any reason to say I was lying.

“Look,” he lowered his voice and leaned over the edge of the table towards me. “You can say you didn’t do what we both know you did all you want. You knew something was happening to Tracy. You couldn’t have heard Nick from your locker and you did something to the ground but stopped when Ian showed up.”

“Fine, maybe I did know something was happening to Tracy. She’s a friend of mine, we all knew what that asshole was doing to her, and I just had a gut feeling something was happening. Call it women’s intuition.” Sometimes the truth is best and that was pretty much the truth after all.

“Fine. But why are you refusing to answer me about the ground?” He narrowed his eyes at me, all the blue of his iris concentrating on the gray in the middle.

“Maybe because I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was gripping my glass now, directing all of my pent up energy into it. Not really a bright idea.

“Lying does not become you.” He sat up straight again, smoothing out his light gray sweater over his stomach. “You cracked the asphalt for Christ’s sake.”

“You do realize we live in Southern California right?” I had a sarcastic edge to my voice. “Parking lots around here are littered with cracks and potholes. We have these funny little things called earthquakes, get them all the time.”

“You know I don’t believe you.”

“Ok.” I said and he grinned, but I could tell he was trying not to.

“You’re not going to answer for that, are you?”

“Why should I? I answered your question about Tracy, but have you explained why you glared at me like a freak that first day?” Tit for tat. He took a deep breath in through his nose. His chest rose with the effort, holding it in for longer than normal before finally sighing and nodding.

“You’re right, I’m not playing fair. But,” he held up a finger, inclining his head slightly, “I really don’t think you’ll admit to it if I tell you why.”

“So?”

“I don’t like people reading me without my permission,” he said straight and to the point with a flat voice.

“What are you talking about?” As if I didn’t know.

“You have very good control, I’ll give you that, at least when you’re not upset, but you practically glow with power and I don’t appreciate people reading me without my permission.” He stressed the word this time, daring me to make him explain with so many people in close proximity, not that anyone could hear us in the crowded restaurant.

“And when I am upset?” I wasn’t going to give him this yet; I wanted to see if he really did know what he was talking about first.

“Well, I’ve taken to carrying antacids with me at school. Not really something most seventeen-year-olds should have to worry about.”

“Your stomach issues are not my fault,” I said flatly.

“When I’m around you and you’re upset and projecting, yes they are.” He was very sure of what he said. I was going to make him put it in plain English before I conceded this very important fact.

“I’m still not sure what you’re talking about.” I realized I had melted all of the ice in my glass.

“I hope you’re not trying to insult my intelligence,” he said. I gave him a small smile and tilted my head to the side, waiting patiently like he had. The silence stretched between us, becoming thicker, almost tangible like a rope connecting us across a deep ravine that he wanted to pull me into.

I was very aware of his breathing pattern and the rise and fall of his chest, the color rising just under his ears and the perfect right angles of his cheekbones. I could cut my wrists on those cheekbones. “Ok, fine, have it your way then,” he said, a hint of sadness behind the words.

“I haven’t decided whether or not you have an uncanny awareness of other’s emotions, or if you are affected by them and can affect others, or maybe—as I fear—you feed on them,” he said that last with a true hint of fear in his voice.

“Feed on other’s emotions?” That concept bothered me; it sounded dangerous, evil maybe. I had a sour taste in my mouth. He didn’t say anything, not even a nod of his head. “I don’t like the sound of that.” I pushed my glass away from me and brought my hands down to my lap. “I don’t do that.”

“All right.” He gave the smallest of nods and, although I couldn’t feel the relief from him, his eyes did brighten a little. “I have a feeling you are waiting to tell me which of the other two are correct.”

“Very intuitive of you.” The busboy came around just then. Grandma knew to leave us alone when we came in, knowing we’d get up to pay when we were done. I shot the busboy a look and sent to him to go away and it worked. It worked like it should but didn’t work on Jensen.

“Well?” He prompted after the busboy scurried off. “What is the question you have for me before you’ll answer mine?” Too intuitive.

“How do you keep me from reading you?” He had used the term so I felt safe enough using it too.

“You really don’t know?”

“I have my guesses,” I paused, “now anyway.” As soon as this conversation took a turn for the worse, I knew my secrets were out on display for him because I must be sitting across from a kindred spirit or enemy. Either way, he had secrets he was keeping that were just as important as mine. He was blocking me intentionally and I knew that now.

“It’s a type of shield.” It was a simple answer, probably cryptic to some, but I understood what shields were. Most people would think of them as invisible force fields like you see in Sci-fi movies, which is pretty much what they are, except they aren’t created electronically.

“A pretty strong one then,” I said. My shields and the ones Jodi and Steven had protected us from evil influences, like protective little bubbles keeping unwanted entities and negative energy away from us. I hadn’t known anyone who was able to create a shield that made them an emotionless void to the world.

“I’ve been working on it for a long time.” He suddenly looked tired, sad almost.

“I’ve only ever seen shields that keep negativity away and could make you less noticeable to people, not like what you’re doing.”

“Sometimes you need to protect against more than just energy.” I had the feeling he wanted to tell me something, but didn’t yet feel like it was safe enough. His eyes were suddenly hard again as he fixed them on mine, holding me in his stare. “Now, your turn again.”

“I’m an Empath,” I said simply, deciding there wasn’t much harm in telling him this. It wasn’t necessarily a magical ability; many people have the ability to be attuned to other people’s feelings and had an inherent ability to calm or comfort. Good mothers and doctors can do it and no one thinks twice about it. But that really doesn’t do my ability justice.

“Could you elaborate?”

“I don’t feed on people’s emotions. I can feel them, very acutely, and yes, they can and do affect me and, if someone lets me, I can affect them.”

“How much?”

“How much, what?”

“How much do they affect you?”

“It depends on the person and the emotion.”

“Would you be willing to give me an example of when someone’s affected you?” He seemed eager suddenly, making me nervous. My shields flared suddenly, growing stronger and wider around me. “Sorry… I was just curious how it worked,” Jensen said, glancing away from me.

“Pain is the hardest to block out,” I said. “If someone I know or feel a connection to is in pain, physical or emotional, I suffer through it with them.”

“Tracy.” It was a statement and I didn’t see any use in denying it. I nodded.

“Nick had been bruising her stomach and back and for weeks I thought I had broken ribs.”

“She probably did.” His face darkened. It had a very interesting effect on his eye color, making them dark like a sea in a storm.

“Yeah, probably.” I traced designs on the table with my finger in the droplets of water from my glass. “Anyway, since I had been so attuned to her for so long I knew immediately something was wrong that day that Ian stopped Nick,” I shrugged, not much more to explain. I saw his jaw tighten briefly at the end of my explanation; it seemed an odd reaction to a happy ending.

“And you can affect how others feel?”

“Maybe.” I had given up a lot in this conversation and I wasn’t sure how much more I wanted to give.

“Fair enough.” I wanted to press him about his knowing about shields and everything else, but his demeanor and tone of voice had changed and I had the feeling he wasn’t in the mood for another battle. “Listen, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” I agreed, thinking of my pepper spray in my purse.

“Ian was my ride and, well, you saw him storm out. Think you could give me a ride home?” Alone in a car with Jensen, was that a good idea? Maybe not, but it was tempting.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” I was lucky enough to see that true, genuine smile again and suffered through the swarm of butterflies again. He pulled out his wallet and started taking out money. I could tell it was enough for us both.

“No, you don’t have –”

“Hey, you’re giving me a ride home, it’s the least I could do.” He had already put the money down and weighted it down with the Parmesan shaker and stood up, pulling his jacket on. I considered arguing but figured it was probably useless. I slid out of the booth and reached for my jacket. He caught it as it swung out and held it up for me to help me into it. I hesitated, but let him help me.

We made our way through the crowded restaurant; he reached the door first and held it open for me, standing back. As I stepped past him, he touched the small of my back with his free hand, ushering me out. I felt the warmth of his fingertips through the thick wool of my jacket.

It was a relatively silent drive to his house, but at least it was blessedly short. It turned out he lived in my neighborhood, just a few blocks over. Not that it was all that surprising; if he lived too far away he’d be enrolled at our rival high school. I pulled up to the curb outside his house, letting the engine idle loudly, purring like a contented tiger. He reached for the handle, turning his body towards the door, hesitating for a second, not really staring out the window.

I had the sudden horrible thought that he might try to kiss me goodnight like this was a date or something. I kept both hands securely on the steering wheel and my eyes forward and tried to keep my breathing normal.

“You know,” he said quietly, turning his face slightly towards me but not his body, “It’s ok not to hate me.” It was probably the saddest voice I had ever heard; my stomach ached with the urge to comfort such a pitiful sound.

“I don’t, I don’t…” It was like someone had hit me in the back of the head with a baseball bat. I was so confused by such a blunt statement that I was fumbling for the words. “I mean, that’s not… you shouldn’t…” He pulled on the door handle and pushed at the door to step out. The icy wind rushed inside behind him, swirling with the heat from the car vents. He leaned down, one hand still on the door and the other on the roof of the car.

“Just in case you did, I wanted you to know it’s not too late to change your mind.” He smiled then, softly and not showing any teeth, not even crinkling the corners of his eyes, eyes that seemed to be searching my face for reassurance. I knew, horribly, that my face was slack jawed and stunned. He stepped back and shut the door, suddenly cutting off the cold air with one last gust.

I watched him walk to his front door and go inside, never looking back at me. He must have turned off the porch light, leaving the house completely in shadow, but I didn’t remember seeing the light go out. I had lost myself watching him walk away while his words echoed in my mind. I shivered, realizing my fingers ached with the effort of holding on to the steering wheel. I came back to myself and drove away.