Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (53 page)

y mind races through dreams, not pausing on any long enough for me to understand the scenes playing out, but none of them are nightmares. What wakes me now is the weight of two arms slung over my back. I feel smothered.

Struggling to turn over, I give up. My eyes pop open. I slide Brad and Brit’s arms from me, then sneak out of the tent.

Outside, everything is dark and still. Other than the sound of the river flowing, there are no noticeable noises. Looking for a place to sit alone, I walk toward the water. A fallen pine tree resting along the bank makes a perfect seat.

There’s a wet chill to the night. Wrapping my arms around my knees to keep myself warm, I close my eyes, take a deep breath of the fresh air, and clear my thoughts, allowing the tranquil mountains to refresh my soul. When I open them again, the yellow light dances over the water. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going crazy. Passing out, seeing yellow lights, Brad telling me he loves me—none of these things are really happening. Maybe I hit my head yesterday and gave myself a concussion?

The longer I think about my level of sanity, the closer the light draws to me, until I’m surrounded. Pulsing more intensely, the brightness entices me to get to my feet. I’m ready to go back to the tent, but something deep inside says I should follow the yellow nuisance.

Ignoring the danger of walking away from camp, in the dark and by myself, I do exactly that.

The light remains ahead of me as I walk through a familiar part of the forest. Every now and then, I turn, prepared to give up and head back, thinking I have gone too far, but the curious part of me wills my feet to continue following the light.

After floating along the trail for quite some time, the light stops at my favorite swimming spot: Snake Hole. A few years ago, one of the harmless serpents bit Brit. The creepy thing must have slithered into her shorts on the bank while we swam. When she picked them up to get dressed, the snake bit her hand. Brit dropped her clothes and went screaming back to camp, bleeding like a stuck pig the entire way. I gathered her things and brought them back to her. The bite hasn’t stopped my sister from returning. The water is too perfect and calm to stay away on hot summer days. But, now, she always pokes her clothes with a long stick before picking them up.

The light pulsates with energy, drawing me back from my memories of Brit.

“What is it you brought me out here for?” I ask, confirming I
have
gone crazy.

As if in direct response to my question, the light swirls around me faster and faster, then dives straight down into the water. Fish and turtles scatter away in frenzy, avoiding the light as it plunges to the bottom.

“Oh, no! I might be crazy for following a light into the darkness, but I am
not
jumping into the water at night and by myself!” I turn on my toes and march straight back to camp.

What was I thinking? I followed a yellow light through the forest at night with no flashlight. The path was bright before, but walking back, I cannot see anything.

My thoughts turn to Brad as a little boy, alone and scared, lost out here in the woods. At least
he’d
had enough sense to get lost in the middle of the day; but here I am, in the black night, knowing the exact place I stand, but even
I
feel cut off from civilization.

The river guides me; my knowledge of the trail steers my feet clear of anything that might make me fall. The return hike is painstaking in the dark. Turning off the path, I arrive back at camp almost an hour later. I half expect to see Brit waiting for me with her hands on her hips—furious I wandered off without her—but everything is as dark and still as before I left. I crawl into the tent, praying I’m undetected, and close my eyes, prepared to sleep away the nagging curiosity of what the yellow light is.

“Where were you?” Brit whispers.

So much for my future as a spy.

“I just went for a walk.” The walk part is true; I leave out the minor detail about the strange light.

“I thought you saw something outside the tent, the way you were shining your flashlight around.”

“I wasn’t shining my flashlight near the tent.” I’d smack my forehead, but that would draw more attention to my stupidity. How am I going to explain this to her?

Sitting up, Brit brings the sleeping bag around her head, like I told her there was a murderer standing just beyond the tent, waiting to kill us the second we realized he was here.

“Relax. There’s some logical explanation for what you saw. It’s either the rum, some random hikers walking by, or—” Or what? She must have seen the same light that’s harassed me all afternoon. I know my next question will raise a lot more if the answer is not what I expect, but I am compelled to ask. “What color was the light?”

“Yellow,” Brit says, still hiding under the sleeping bag.

“Yellow?” I hear the caution in my voice; I hope she can’t.

“Yeah, just like the color of the light you took with you down the swimming hole trail.”

A shiver runs through me, my heart pounds, and my hands turn clammy, but I try to maintain a calm façade for my sister. She saw the light!

Maybe I’m not crazy, after all, but what does all of this mean? Should I tell her about the light, and how it coerced me to follow the trail? Tell her how the light dove into the water? Will she go check out the swimming hole with me? All these thoughts speed through my mind in an instant.

Brit nudges my shoulder. “Kate?”

“Sorry,” I say, giving myself a mental shake. “Come outside with me?”

I grab an actual flashlight, and we step outside the tent. Leading Brit over to the bank, I sit her down on the pine tree by the river, then take a seat next to her. “You can’t tell Brad.”

Brad would never believe us. If we tell him, he’ll think we’re playing a joke on him. He doesn’t believe in the supernatural stuff—and before tonight, I might have sided with him. Unless he sees something himself, it didn’t happen.

“Tell him
what
, exactly?”

I decide to tell her everything—from the familiar, glowing woman who told me to wake up when I passed out, to the light dancing off the trees and water, and then guiding me to Snake Hole.

Brit’s face is full of disbelief, but she saw the yellow light with her own eyes, so she can’t outright mock my story.

She stands up, ready to take off. “You want to go to the hole now?”

“No. I’m not going to leave Brad by himself.”

“Are you girls planning on going somewhere without me?” Brad asks, sounding a little groggy as he walks toward us from the tent.

“Oh, we were thinking of taking a little walk down to the swimming hole.” Brit’s eyes are big and full of innocence.

Brad runs his hands up and down his arms. “It’s a little cold for a swim, don’t you think?”

“We weren’t going to swim; just walk there and back. We do it every year when our parents fall asleep,” Brit says.

First, I find my sister’s been drinking, and now, I learn she’s an excellent liar. Brit is surprising me. I have a sinking feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of baby-sitting at college next year.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Brad takes me by the hand and helps me off the log, holding on to me a little longer than necessary. He gives my hand a light squeeze, then lets it go. The signals he’s been sending me on this trip conflict with our friendship status.

The sun begins its daily battle with the night sky as we walk along the river to our favorite swimming spot; dim gray light breaks over the horizon when we arrive.

There is no yellow light in the river.

Brit looks at me; her eyes change from nervous anticipation to question-filled.

All I can do is shrug.

Brad walks over to the river, bends down, then dips in his fingers. “The water is really warm.”

The warmth of the water takes me by surprise, when I kneel to touch it. It’s late May, but the night air is chilly; the water shouldn’t feel so tepid.

Brit doesn’t wait for a written invitation. She slips out of her clothes, and then she walks right into the river.

I frown. I’m more reserved about taking my clothes off in front of people than she is.

“I’ll turn my head,” Brad says, like a gentleman.

I lift my shirt over my head, then slide my pants down my legs, tripping over my own feet as I pull the pants off. I cannot get over the feeling I’m being watched, and
not
by Brad.

“Okay,” I say,
after
I’m in the water.

My muscles relax and my spirit re-energizes; the water’s so warm, it feels like I’m soaking in a hot tub.

Brad steps into the river, moaning when the water reaches his waist.

My eyes fixate on him.

His sculpted chest muscles loosen as the warmth works its magic. Brad catches me staring at him; his eyes widen, and the corners of his mouth turn up a little.

Brit splashes me, bringing my attention to her. She gives me a look of disapproval. Brit’s been grumpy with Brad and me on this trip, and now—more than ever—I wonder if what she wants to tell me has something to do with him.

Laughing, I splash her back. “What was that for?”

“Tell ya later,” Brit says, her gaze resting on Brad.

Oh yeah, whatever it is has to do with him. I look between them, concerned about what they each want to talk to me about, but I have to let it go, because neither one plans to say anything right now.

Instead of worrying, I have fun. We splash around, dunk each other, float on our backs, and play Marco Polo. It’s wonderful to feel like a kid again.

Brit pushes my head under the water.

I grab her arm and pull her down with me.

All of a sudden, the water explodes with yellow light.

Losing my breath, I struggle to get up for air.

Brad’s arms close around my hips. He pulls me against his chest and swims to the surface.

I choke out water into his face, but he keeps his firm hold on me.

“She got you good.” Brad laughs. “You okay?”

Still gasping for air, I nod and look over at Brit.

She’s also coughing up water, but stares down into the brilliant, yellow river right along with me.

I return my gaze to Brad; the closeness of our almost-naked bodies causes my cheeks to heat up.

His arms release me as fast as they clasped around me under the water.

I’m positive he cannot see what Brit and I can. Instead of gazing deep into the river, the way we are, he watches me with a slight grin on his face.

Brit and I stare at the point where the light is brightest.

“Beat you to the bottom.” I tease her.

Brad won’t think this is out of the ordinary, considering how many games we’ve already played.

“Go!” Brit takes a deep breath, then dives under the water.

I follow right behind her, swimming toward the emanating light.

When we’re about to reach the bottom, the light swirls and darts over to the far side of the swimming hole, revealing a chasm under the short falls. Part of it is above the water, but most of the crevasse is below. How have we never noticed this before?

Brit points up.

We’re unable to hold our breath any longer.

“Took you guys long enough,” Brad says, running his fingers along the surface of the water.

“We found a cave!” Brit says.

“Really? How can you see anything when it’s so dark?”

“Well, we think it’s a cave, but we’ll have to come back later, when it’s lighter. You want to check it out with us?” she asks.

“Absolutely.”

The water loses its warmth; goose bumps pop up all over my skin. I step out of the river—my teeth chattering, body trembling—and put on my clothes as fast as possible. It doesn’t take long for the others to follow.

I lead them back to camp, running the entire time, hoping to heat up. I throw some scrap wood into the fire pit while Brit works to get it lit again. Once I’m warm, my stomach growls.

We all shove a few granola bars in our mouths while sitting around the fire, shivering.

At least, Brit and Brad got some sleep. I’ve pretty much been running around all night. The tent is calling my name, and I give in to my exhaustion.

They follow.

We unzip our sleeping bags and huddle together to calm our trembling bodies.

Brit falls asleep and rolls away. Her absence makes my shaking worse.

Brad opens his arms, allowing me to burrow into his chest to get warmer. He kisses my forehead. Brad’s never done that before, not that the kiss bothers me enough to move away from him. But the kiss—combined with his drunken love profession—is enough to make me unsure of his feelings, for the first time in our long friendship. I try not to think about the meaning behind his kiss, and instead, I wonder why he didn’t see the light.