Midnight Runes (The Bestowed Ones) (28 page)

Landon laughed under his breath, but I laughed louder, and mine held a hint of hysteria.

“How exactly did you lose your phone rights?” Samantha asked.

“I scratched his favorite video game discs beyond usability.”

“Elyse, you have to be more discrete about confronting him,” Zach said.

“What am I supposed to do? We had an understanding not to mess with each other after I shredded his coveted Iron Man shirts when he hacked into my Facebook account and posted all that weird stuff.”

I sighed and looked at Landon. He suppressed a smile.

The day passed quickly, as most Fridays did. Landon and I didn’t revisit our conversation.

Saturday morning, my parents left midmorning to finalize plans for their Holiday Kick-Off party next weekend.

Now that Trevor decided he could talk to me again, he would come with his parents. And my closest friends had always been invited. Landon definitely fit into that category.

My parents didn’t like the idea of inviting Landon, but I was somehow able to get them to agree. It was going to be the first time Landon and Trevor would be in the same room together since the coffeehouse day—at least as far as I knew. It was concerning to think about.

I decided to call Elyse and express my concerns. Boy stuff I could talk to her about.

“How are you going to keep them separated?” she asked.

“I don’t see how I can. Our house isn’t big enough to get lost in.”

“What if they fight? Trevor will get really hurt.”

“Landon knows how upset I’d be if that happened.”

“Trevor’s more of the instigator. Are you going to tell him to behave himself?”

“No, he should know how I feel about it by now. We’ve talked about what happened at homecoming that night and again after. I’m more worried about the awkwardness.”

“There’s not too much that can be done about that.”

“Thanks for the wonderful insight. My mom’s expecting my help with the house cleaning—she just opened my door, so I’ve got to go.”

“Alrighty. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I I hung up, dejected. Next time I’ll ask her to lie to me.

• • •

The following week was spent between school, homework, friends, Landon and his research, and final preparations for the party Saturday. My stress level increased proportionally to the diminishing time. I wanted things to go smoothly, but I anticipated something would happen to cause conflict.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like they could have an all-out, super power battle during the party.

I sat across the table from Landon during one of our after-school study sessions, held in one of the library’s back conference rooms. Landon searched for details on how to transfer his tattoo; I studied for school. Or tried to. It was a challenge to focus on my econ notes for the test the next day with Landon flipping through an old text he had brought with him. The distressed binding showed years of handling; the pages had darkened with time. The turning of each page produced a delicate sound in the quiet room. Every few minutes, he would mark a new page, flip back to a previously marked page, and readjust the tattered ribbon bookmarks connected to the spine of the book.

“Emilee hasn’t bothered you lately, has she?” he said without looking up.

Now that he mentioned it, she hadn’t gone out of her way to be mean. Had I just been too distracted to notice? “No, she hasn’t,” I said cautiously. Did I want to know how that was possible? “What did you do?”

“I talked to her,” he said.

“Seems strange she wouldn’t be worse because of that.”

“I can be persuasive.” Yeah, if he threatened her.

I stared at the top of his head as he flipped through the frayed book. I wavered between wanting to know and knowing that I probably didn’t.

He closed the book and looked up. “It helps that I have something over her,” he said with a smile. “What little I’ve found mentions that a strong emotion must be present for the mark to transfer.”

“Don’t look at me. Maybe it’s lacking on your end.” Why was I taunting him?

“Is that what you think?” he teasingly whispered.

“Could we ask Cassandra about it?”

“She can’t get involved.”

“I’m not going to ask her if I should get yours or Trevor’s. If we ask a general question like what she knows about it or how we can get that information, I’m pretty sure that’s acceptable.”

“It’s easier if no one else knows what we were attempting.”

“We need to succeed, not try,” I said firmly.

He reached across the table and held my hand. He transported us to two chaise lounges under a palm tree on a white sandy beach. The water was a stunning crystal blue, and thin clouds streaked across the bright sky. I leaned back against the chair and relaxed immediately.

“This could really mess with my head, you know.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so grounded,” he countered.

“I’d love to spend a few weeks here. But that’s impossible.”

“That can be arranged,” he said casually. “Live on campus. You’ll be on your own. No one’s going to monitor you.”

“Except for the whole purpose of going to college—attending classes and earning a degree. Not to mention the cost and time spent flying down here, wherever we are, and back.”

He gave me a look that said I should know better. I looked away.

“Who even knows what next year will be like? My life might not be my own,” I hedged.

“Your future will be whatever you choose it to be.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?”

“How can you talk to Trevor yet not learn any of the important stuff?”

“Because there’s so much important stuff to learn! And up until recently, both you
and
my parents were determined to keep me out. All of you still are, but at least I’m aware of it.”

“What’s this about your parents?”

“That was the reason I went to see Trevor. I had to know if our parents knew. We had all been so worried about him and his erratic behavior earlier. He told his parents, and they told mine after he realized
why
our families had known each other for so long.”

“Trevor could have compromised everything by telling them.”

“He told me he committed to a more involved term.” I felt driven to know what he sacrificed, although I knew it wouldn’t do me any good.

“I’m not privy to the details of their arrangement, but his logic doesn’t make sense.”

“How do you know why he did it?” I said.

“I know lots of things.”

“I never would have asked him to do it, even if we were still together. It makes me crazy that people do things for me that affect my life without consulting me. I can’t help feel responsible, but to the same point, it can’t be my responsibility.”

“If there was a way to get him out of it, would you?”

“If there was, would you tell me what I had to do?”

He laughed. “You’re forgetting there are always options. Some have a much higher price than others. The real question is if the consequence is worth it.”

“You talk a lot about consequences.”

“It’s the currency of life.”

His words resonated, and I knew them to be true. It went beyond the obvious “look both ways before crossing the street” or “wear a seatbelt when in the car.” Not doing those could have immediate, tragic results. Sometimes it ended badly no matter the amount of preparation taken. What about the decisions that must be made where the outcome wasn’t immediately visible? What about the decisions that were chain reactions, where each step led to more decisions and more potential outcomes? How are we to navigate life? No wonder older people talk so much about what they wish they had done differently. Life can be full of regrets.

“Tell me more about how the group works.”

“It’s Mafia-like in that they control, or try to control, those of us who have gifts. They like to use us for their own benefit, usually related to their multiple businesses, but sometimes it’s personal.” He stared out at the ocean. “It didn’t always operate the way it does now. We used to have traditions. We used to pay homage to the Source to show our gratitude for all It has given us. Now their actions center on personal affairs to propel the top people forward.”

“What does he make you do?” I quietly asked, suddenly afraid of the answer.

He closed his eyes. “Different things,” he answered.

Uneasiness injected itself into my stomach. I sat forward, no longer relaxed enough to recline against the chair. “How bad?”

“I’d rather you didn’t know.”

I scanned his face. “How bad?” I repeated.

He shook his head and stared off into the distance.

“Murder?” It was the worst thing I could think of.

He clenched his jaw and held it that way for what seemed like minutes.

I shook my head, my eyes wide with the realization of what he was confessing. He was capable of hurting people. He had a violent side, but I also knew he would only fight in self-defense. My mind flashed back to that day in the hallway, the way he looked when he told me that he used it as a last resort. And here he was, silently admitting to what?
Murder
? It wasn’t possible. It
couldn’t
be possible. I swung my legs to face him. I hoped looking at him head-on would lessen the stress screaming through my body.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Mostly he likes us to intimidate his nonconforming customers—I can drop them off on a snow-covered mountain, put them in a jungle, or in the middle of the Grand Canyon…anywhere. It only takes a few minutes of exposure to change their mind. They aren’t much use dead. But it happens.”

I stayed silent. He didn’t offer revelations of this magnitude often.

“The first time he ordered me to kill, it was a man who threatened to go public about the organization after a promised business deal fell through. I followed him around, studying him, trying to figure out what I was going to do. He had a wife and a family. He was a loving, hardworking man who just wanted to provide the best for them. I could see the regret he had entangling himself with them just to gain an edge on his competition. Knowing that made it worse. I did the only thing I could think of. I left him in the middle of the Sahara desert. When I reported back to the leader, he was impressed with my innovative solution. He uses me when he’s feeling inventive.”

“How many times have you done something like that?”

“Three.”

I climbed onto his chair and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I know you don’t feel this way, but you’re a good person.”

He scoffed. “You’re right. You measure with a really bizarre yardstick.”

I distanced myself from him so I could see into his eyes. “These are things you’re forced to do. It’s not a thrill for you. You’re not sadistic.”

“It doesn’t release me from my actions.”

I settled in next to him. “There’s still a chance they’re alive. Someone could have found them or they could have made it to a village or a road.”

“Are you always so optimistic?”

“Haven’t you ever watched
Man verse Wild
or
I Shouldn’t Be Alive
? It’s possible.”

“Their families don’t know they’re alive. They don’t know what happened to their loved ones. They just disappeared. Think of the torment they’re living with. I caused that.”

“I can only hope one day they’ll be able to know the truth—that rather than outright killing them, you relocated them. It doesn’t change how I see you. I just wish there was a way to rid yourself of this horrible person,” I muttered.

“There are really no good options. The only solution is a permanent one.”

I closed my eyes. “So this is something you’ve thought about.”

“I plan for everything.”

“Why are you finally telling me all of this?”

“You deserve the truth. I’d rather tell you than have you find out some other way.”

“Are you and Trevor going to play nice at my parents’ party?”

He laughed. “That’s a good question.”

“Maybe it needs to be an order,” I muttered.

T
here wasn’t much to do the day of the party besides wait for everyone to arrive. We had taken care of the prep work during the week, something I now regretted. The free time was detrimental to my peace of mind. I needed something to occupy me. I texted Elyse, encouraging her to come early.

Within a few hours, the house was full of friends and family. Their conversations drifted throughout the decorated living room, dining room, and kitchen. The size of the guest list required the addition of two dining tables. We had decorated the living room in a Thanksgiving theme, the dining room for Christmas, and the island and table in the kitchen were designated for New Year’s. I caught bits and pieces of conversations as I floated around refreshing the punch bowl and refilling the appetizer trays.

My parents had hired a caterer. They didn’t spring for servers, too.

I noticed Trevor and Landon talking, or more specifically, arguing in a corner away from the rest of our friends. It was the type of arguing that’s done in public places to not draw attention. More is said with body language than word volume, and only by knowing them did I know what was going on. I heard Trevor’s response as I approached.

“I took care of her in a way you never would have.”

“You foolishly rushed into something you know nothing about,” Landon responded.

“I know that you need to leave her alone. There’s no need for you to even be around her anymore. I don’t know why you even want to
attempt
what you’re suggesting.”

“Attempts are for failures. I don’t fail.”

“You’re so arrogant. Why would she want it anyway?”

“Hi, boys. We’re getting along, right?” I injected.

“Yes,” Trevor said a little too quickly, and I looked to Landon for the real answer.

Landon gave Trevor a level stare then said to me, “He told your parents what he thinks is my involvement in the group.”

“That’s the reason you’re giving? How did you even know about that?” Trevor asked Landon.

“I told Landon what you said about our parents, Trevor.”

“Why do you tell him so much?” Trevor asked.

“It was just a natural part of our conversation!”