Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (18 page)

We stopped at Harry’s Corner Store for a treat on the way back to the condo. Nothing like sitting on the hood of the Mustang, licking vanilla ice cream while at the beach with my boy— “What are we?”

Derick glanced around the empty parking lot. “Can we talk about this later?”

I laughed. “No, not that. I mean, us”—I pointed at him, then me—“What are we?”

“What do you want us to be?” he asked, sliding closer.

I may have melted more than my ice cream, which slowly dripped down the side of my hand. “Not fair. You already cheated once today, and I’m pretty sure we’re about to go home and read. So, you tell me. What are we?”

He dragged a finger across my cheek, staring at my lips. “You know what I want, Abigail Nichols. You. How we are now. How we were on the beach. How we’ve always been, but I want you to be mine.”

So weak. My heart was
so
weak. “Yours?”

Derick nodded, leaning close to my mouth, sinking his hand into my hair.

My ice cream fell.

“I love you, Abby. Be my girlfriend, be my best friend, be my you.”

“I can do that,” I whispered.

Just as quickly as he turned on the heat, he pulled away and slid off the car. “Come on. Let’s go put away our spoils and then read.”

Spoils
? “Aye, Cap’n.”

He winked, then we were off, on our way home. Somehow, his proclamation, him calling me his girlfriend—although I knew he meant so much more than that—satisfied me in a way I hadn’t expected. Derick wasn’t just here to protect me, to protect the key to keeping the planes closed—
ugh
—no, Derick was here because he wanted to be with me. Nothing else.

I was still smiling about that until we walked into the condo and realized we’d have to go into the bedroom.
That
idea still scared me. One bed. We’d have to share it. We’d shared a bed a couple nights ago. In his house. With his parents home. This bed… well, it was different.

So were we.

“Do you still think I’m going to bite you?” He nudged me through the doorway and then dropped the bags onto the chest at the foot of the bed. “Come on. Pick your drawers, then I’ll shove my things into whichever one you don’t take over.”

I swatted at him but missed.

Derick caught my wrist and pulled me to his chest. “Clothes away. Shower. Reading. You will not distract me. No matter how hard you try.”

“Who said I was trying?”

“You don’t have to.” He backed away with a mischievous grin, leaving me for the bathroom. “I’ll shower first.”

We owned a big wicker dresser with four drawers. My new clothes occupied two. I intentionally squeezed everything in so Derick couldn’t say I took up too much space. Not that he would. Or that he’d mean it.

I sorted through the duffel bag he brought from Virginia. Most of the stuff belonged to me. Brush, toothpaste, underwear—
oh my God
—bras, razors, makeup. Did he raid my bathroom?

A small off-white envelope fell when I lifted out my undergarments. Mom’s writing was scrawled across the front:
Abigail
. My hands shook as I lifted the sealed edges and pulled out the letter. Heart racing, I read:

Abigail, I can only pray that you will never forget us and that you will forgive us for keeping the truth from you. We never liked your father’s terms, but we so desperately wanted a child. You are our everything, our world. We wanted you to have a good life, though we knew this day approached. I would have loved for you to stay away from boys forever, but that wouldn’t have been fair—or healthy. Just promise me to believe in yourself. Don’t let the wishes of others guide you. Be your own woman, the woman we raised you to be. I think that’s all any parent wants. I love you, Mom.

I love you, too, Mom.

Two wet arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly before I could fall to pieces, before I could collapse and cry myself to sleep. “I can be invisible
and
fast.”

I turned, clutching the paper. “I guess my parents knew you were taking me too?”

Derick shook his head. “Nope, just that my parents were planning to hide you away in some safe house.”

A safe house. An island was at least better than a house.

“Is that from your mom?”

Closing my eyes, I said, “Yes. She wants me to be strong.”

“You are.” He kissed my cheek. “Strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

I tucked the letter into one of my drawers, then grabbed a pink disposable razor and held it between us. “I used some of these things before we went out to eat the other night. When did you find the time?”

“When you thought I was angry. My dad wanted you to read the book. I snuck out, into your house, grabbed some things your mom had already packed for you, then snuck back home.”

Realization dawned on me. “Your dad helped you.”

“He can read thoughts, you know?” Derick winked, but then his expression immediately darkened, his eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t safe for you there, and Mark’s family… his
family
. Well, they wanted less than admirable things from you. I always hated Mark, but for his dad to actually want to use you to br—”

“I get it.” The thought of breeding a new batch of ‘good’ guys bound my stomach with knots, twisting and wrapping and getting tighter and tighter.

“I’m sorry, but you should know I will kill him if he ever tries.”

“Derick—”

“Shh.” Derick rubbed his hands on my back in warm, reassuring circles—which was in complete contrast to the sudden darkness he’d just taken on. Like maybe he was trying to wipe away the nausea and fear the thought of being no more than a fancy show dog brought me. He leaned back, his eyes softening, his lips pulling out of a thin line and into a tight smile, and looked me over. “Now, go shower. I’ll get started on the book.”

Cold bathroom or warm Derick? Hardly a choice. But I didn’t want to wear my dirty clothes for a third day in a row, and I certainly didn’t want to put on brand new, clean pajamas when I’d slept on the beach. I was a mess. “Five minutes.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” As if he let all his frustrations slip into a storm, only to be sucked away by the wind, his mouth relaxed and curved up into the most radiant of smiles.

I loved staring at his half-naked body. Beads of water slid down his chest, trailing a line down his abs, right to where the towel was tied at his waist…

Part of me wanted to take too long washing and have him come get me.

Not ready.

Shuddering, I grabbed the duffel bag, marched into the bathroom, set out my things, then blasted the hot water. The shower made my skin rejoice. Sand has a way of making everything feel dry and aged and in horrible need of lotion.

Stepping out, I toweled off and then dressed in my new striped cotton shorts and white tank top. I ran a brush through my hair and rubbed some aloe on my faintly burned cheeks, spending extra time in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like a slob, then rushed out to join Derick.

“Learn anything yet?” I asked.

He and the book had become one. I swear he didn’t notice me; he just stared at the pages, one hand in his hair, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

“Derick?”

“This is going to take forever.” Derick sighed and looked up at me, finally realizing I’d entered the room. “Not only is it thicker than the Bible, it’s as confusing too.”

“Is there an Index?”

“No.” For an instant, his expression looked pained, and then he glanced away and stared through the sliding glass door; a cluster of laughing, smiling people bounced a beach ball back and forth, their carefree vacation beckoning to my heart.

That could be us
.

“Well, I read some pages yesterday; there are chapter headings. We can take pieces of paper, write the chapter titles on them, then stick them at each break. We’ll note anything that seems of interest and come back to it when we’ve seen what each section contains.”

“That’ll take forever, too.”

I plopped down on the couch beside him and flipped on the TV, ignoring his pessimism, or at least trying to. “Do you have a better idea?”

“How about we drop the book on the floor, and whatever section it lands on we start reading? Our odds of finding what we need are probably better than if we play the lottery, so I say it’s a good start; people buy lottery tickets all the time—”

“Derick, how many times have you read
The Hobbit
?”

He winced. “Ten. Twenty maybe.”

“How many times have I read it?”

Derick closed the book, then held it a few feet above the floor. “Where are you going with this? ‘Cause my idea is looking pretty good.”

“Father of fantasy or not, a lot of people can’t stand the way Tolkien wrote. Me included, but you read his book over and over because you felt some personal connection with it. I get that. I read parts of
this
while you pilfered through my personal effects. The writing style wasn’t anything as
exciting
as Tolkien’s, but
History of Kalós
holds valuable information for us. We have to read. Besides, it was your idea.” I nudged his shoulder. “And the lottery? Really?”

“People truly believe they’ll win.”

“But they don’t—unless they’re your parents. Which is why your plan sucks.”

Laughing, he leaned back and rested the book in his lap. “Fine, but the first chapter is useless. Talks about the beginning of time. How the Maker created us to be Guardians of Earth, to pass in and out of the plane of mankind in order to watch over and protect humans from the psychopaths from the spirit plane, and to protect humans from themselves by guiding their emotions. We’re at the top of the food chain or something.”

For someone who thought the book was boring and confusing, he sure seemed to understand a lot. “Who’s the Maker?”

Derick shrugged. “God? A magician? A witch? I have no idea. The book doesn’t say, either.”

“Great. We’ll go with a god. He
created
us, right? What else?”

“Second chapter talks about the planes and what type of
people
live in them. There are the Kalóans—us, Humans—I’m sure you’ve met a few, and Fávlosi—super powered insane people like Boredas and his friend Ruckus, and there’s a fourth plane but no mention of what it holds.”

“How much
did
you read?” I drew my knees up to my chin and leaned against his shoulder.

Derick huffed. “Took three months for my dad and me to get through those first two chapters. Can you imagine”—he showed me the tiny amount of the book those chapters took up, a millimeter, maybe—“how long it will take to get through the rest?”

“Oh. Maybe you
should
drop it then.”

“Thought so.”

He sat up, and I snatched the book before he did any damage.

“I was kidding. Come on. Randomly finding book sections will get us nowhere. What’s chapter three about?”

“The first Guardian, who was also the first Elder,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Thousands of years ago. I think there’s a section for each.”

Thumbing through the pages, I realized he was so right. We’d be reading forever. “Okay. I’m assuming Elders are like presidents. We’ll leave it at that. I’m not reading about each one. Maybe we can just skip to the most recent Elder or something.”

“Good idea.” He took hold of a two-inch section of pages and turned it over. “Hey, 1979. We’re getting closer.”

Derick turned over more and landed on 1995. Deceased was listed next to the name. “Guess he didn’t stay an Elder too long. Says he was only in charge for a year.”

He flipped through another small section, stopping on Aedan Mordha—Elemental: Fire Caster—Still In Control.

“Looks like a good enough place to start to me. This is who your dad mentioned is looking for me,” I said, leaning closer. “Aedan Mordha is the first of his kind to rule as Elder. A human war was responsible for the death of his wife and children.” My heart pounded. “This is tragic, Derick. The book says they died of starvation. The Earth wouldn’t produce food, no matter how many Elementals worked on the land. Whatever Elementals are.”

“I’m sure the book has a two-year course on Elementals, but, thankfully, my mom told me about them. Elementals rarely involve themselves in politics. They’d do their jobs, then immediately return home.”

“Their jobs?”

“Elementals have an ability to command air, fire, earth or water. After natural disasters, wars—or whatever—Guardians would call in Elementals to enter the human plane and use their powers to heal the land.”

“Like environmentalists or something?”

“Exactly.” He ran his finger across the page. “Look. Aedan sought assistance from the Guardians so he could travel into the human plane to seek revenge, but his request was denied.”

“I guess we know why he wants the Guardians dead, but if he’s in charge, why didn’t the Guardians just open the planes for him?”

Derick sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they knew it was wrong.”

“Or maybe he wasn’t in charge at the time?”

“Could be.” He shrugged. “Like I said, the first chapter goes on about how we’re supposed to protect mankind—”

“It also said we’re supposed to pass through the planes.”

I went to the next page, skimming through the words. The amount of detail astounded me. Aedan’s plans—all of them—were written as though
he
created this book. Murder, war, weapons, the game—all of these things were in here, but no mention of me. Not that I’d seen anyway. We’d read to page forty of Aedan’s section, or 1999 if we went by years, and still couldn’t figure out what he intended to do with me. But given his massive slaughter of anyone who denied his mission, we assumed he had my blood in his sight.

“Abby, look at this.” Derick held one-half of the giant book in his lap while I held the other. “In 2007, Aedan learned of an Elder’s heir living in the human world. A Guardian. The heir is female and protected by a group of the deceased Elder’s most trusted servants… You want to finish this tomorrow?”

What
? “Why the sudden switch off?”

He shook his head. “It’s 10:00 p.m. We haven’t had good sleep, and I promised to make up for some things.”