The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (7 page)

Lucas

CHAPTER FIVE

Tick

I didn’t realize how much Zara hung out with Jett. Watching them, though, I realized I was growing fond of her. The way he’d touched her in the cafeteria the other day made me cringe. I’d added myself to Zara’s History 113 class a week before. When I found out Monday that he was in the same section as Zara and I, I made Dylan work his godly measure on him after school. Jett changed classes.

Still, that boy was relentless. He rode in her car when Zara went to pick up her last check from Lucky Pin. I knew because I followed them. I never let Zara out of my sight. If I couldn’t do it, then someone in my family
did.

I imagined how it would go when she saw me in her class. I figured it probably wouldn’t be good, since she despised me at the moment, but the girl didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going anywhere. I mean, I couldn’t because I was protecting her, but I didn’t want to either. The prospect of getting to know a sacrifice was too fascinating.

I walked into the auditorium promptly at one o’clock and sat in the first row of stadium seats. In all my years of college, I’d been accustomed to sitting in the last row up top, but I wanted Zara to see me clear as day. I set my only notebook down on my lap and leaned back, rubbing the nubs of hair on my chin as I listened to her footsteps trotting nearer. I smiled, anxious to see her reaction, but when she walked in, her sling bag was sliding off her shoulder, and she fiddled with it instead of noticing me. Her gorgeousness pleased my eyes, and my stomach tensed with desire to be closer to her than I already was. I counted down as she unknowingly stepped closer to
me.

On the count of one, when she finally looked up and realized the only empty seat in the room was next to me, her mouth dropped
open.

“Hi,” I
said.

She plopped the heavy brown pleather bag down on the floor and sat silently. I watched her, noting the extreme tension that tightened her
body.

“How are you?” I
asked.

Her eyes barely grazed mine before her chin dropped toward my arm. “So what’s with the tattoos?”

I wasn’t ready for that. I swept my right hand over my markings
.
I hadn’t thought about the girl having a personality—much less not liking me.
I’m breaking a tradition that could kill me, and
this
is how I’m treated?
I still liked her, but I glanced away, bothered. “It’s a family thing. We all have
one.”

“Like a
crest?”

“Something of the sort,” I replied.

“What do they
mean?”

I looked back to her and snickered in a way that made her recoil. “Wouldn’t you like to
know?”

When her gaze wavered, I leaned in, lifting one eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t like tattoos, do
you?”

She acted like I was a threat. She looked to the front of the classroom, lifted her chin bravely, and swallowed. “I’ve never been a
fan.”

My hollowed stomach filled with amusement, and I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth down. She was a horrible liar. I leaned on the armrest and turned toward her. “And your parents, they taught you
this?”

Her short-lived defiance wavered as I gazed at her. She looked away. I suspected it was to hide a blush. “Sort of. Faith, I
guess.”

“You have good parents.”

Abruptly, she shot back, “Why are you here?” There was fire in her
eyes.

I raised my eyebrows, pointed to the professor walking in, and stated, “Um, school.”

“What are you studying?” she demanded. Her sassiness excited
me.

“Generals right
now.”

I expected her to say something smart after that, but she let off and just watched me. I let her as I pretended to be a good student and opened my notebook.

“Where did you move from?” she suddenly
asked.

“A little town near Cancun, Mexico.”

“Why would you want to move here?” she said. Now she sounded
snobby.

I squinted at her, feeling the low smolder of irony as I held back a laugh. “It’s complicated.”

“Do you live in the
dorms?”

I nodded. I saw her shiver as she leaned away from
me.

“So, what part of town did you move to?” she
asked.

“We just bought a house off Fallen Leaf
Lake.”

“We?”

“My parents are retired and moved here, and my sister goes to college here
too.”

“I thought the government owned a lot of the land around
there.”

“They do. It’s complicated,” I repeated, annoyed this time. I had been out of touch with girls for so long I couldn’t remember if all girls were this
nosy.

This girl’s hands were shaking when she looked back up through her lashes. “Look, Lucas—for what it’s worth—thank
you.”

“For
what?”

“For saving my life,” she whispered.

What little breath my body held was sucked out, and I stiffened.
How does she remember?

Zara took notice and glanced around us. Then she scooted in closer and whispered, “Why do you keep denying it? I saw you. I know you were there, and I know you saw something else that night
too.”

Her memory unraveled my calculated thoughts, and my vision dimmed.
How could this be?
Eventually, I narrowed my eyes and leaned in close enough to let her scent drive me crazy. I was careful not to get too close. I wanted to, but it squeezed that physical trigger, wanting to seize control as it had before I was immortal. “How do you remember so
much?”

She blinked slowly. “What do you
mean?”

I didn’t have time to answer her as Professor Tanner began her lecture. So I returned my unwelcome attention to Zara, who was now messing with her hair to create a shield from my glare. I didn’t mind because I loved her hair. I could tell when she’d just washed it from the way her shampoo’s extracts flowed in the air. Today it smelled like eucalyptus and orange tea, a nice change from her usual strawberry
scent.

I expected Zara to look back up—humans are curious creatures, drawn to us by nature—but was pleasantly surprised when she held her ground for a solid ten minutes. When she cracked moments later and tried to sneak an inconspicuous glance, I grinned. She responded with an even more peculiar stare, curious about my amusement but slightly upset, then looked away, shaking her
head.

A little while later, her expression shifted to a soft pout, probably annoyance with the awkwardness between us. I chuckled. It reminded me of my sister’s attitude and drama.
Women.
Zara scowled at me for laughing before turning back to the professor, continuing her silent game, but I thrived on this reaction.

In the middle of class, the professor assigned us a two-page report and presentation with a partner on the archaeology or civilization of either the Aztecs or Mayans. Suddenly Zara was willing to talk. I didn’t like talking about my past, but I especially didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all, which would only make Zara more suspicious.

“So, which one do you want to do?” I asked before she could go off and ask someone else to be her partner.

She glanced around briefly. Everyone else was already pairing up. She sighed and turned to me. “Maybe we can do the archaeology one. It sounds easier. Plus, I’ve got a friend at the library who knows a lot about this sort of
stuff.”

I leaned back, crossed my arms, and chuckled to
myself.

“Is this funny?” she
asked.

“No. It sounds like you’ve got it all worked
out.”

“Well, if you don’t speak up, I won’t know if you don’t want to do this
one.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. You choose.” Her quirkiness pleased me so much that I was letting her do whatever she wanted.
No, what is wrong with
you?

“Okay. Archaeology,” she stated proudly.

Hot air escaped me in a second laugh.
The clueless little doll—this will be
fun.

“What?” she
asked.

“Are you sure? I mean, the Aztecs were pretty gruesome. Lots of blood.” I delighted in rubbing it in as her face washed with disgust. “It might make for a better report. But like I said, you
choose.”

It was cute how her nose wrinkled. “You are
sick.”

“No,
muñeca
, actually I’m
not.”

She gave me a strange look and opened her textbook. “We’re going with civilization, so start reading.”

I watched her. It was like watching Gabriella make a decision on which bracelet to wear. Zara wasn’t upset; she was flustered.

I looked at her book, wondering what wrongful words were in there about my people. “I don’t need
that.”

“Whatever.” She slammed it shut and pulled a notepad and pencil out of her bag. “Then let’s start with what we
know.”

The irony was killing me, and I couldn’t help but laugh
again.

“
Now
what is so funny, Lucas?”

“Nothing, nothing. This isn’t going to work. How about you start with what you know, and then maybe I can fill in the gaps,” I suggested.

“Fine.”

I looked over her shoulder as she wrote the two things everybody knew about the
Aztecs.

“That’s it?” I asked, unimpressed.

She slammed the pencil down. “Look, you chose this
topic!”

“I’m not mad. I told you I would fill in the gaps,” I said, laughing as I raised my
hands.

“Yes, you did. So feel free to
start.”

She shoved the paper at me, but my eyes skipped to the pencil sitting on her lap. She sat there, oblivious.

“May I?” I asked, reaching for
it.

I knew exactly how to push her buttons; my proximity was one of them. I could hear her heart race as I grabbed the pencil, and I took my time backing away, enjoying the pleasure of teasing her. What surprised me, though, were the hot pulses throbbing through my own
body.

I glanced down, ignoring the heat I now felt, and wrote in all caps until I’d filled the entire page. “Done.”

Zara stared at it in shock. “Lucas, this is half the
report!”

“I
know.”

“Well, what else do you know?” she asked ecstatically.

“More than
that.”

“Then why don’t we finish it right
now?”

“Because.”

“Because
why?”

She waited patiently as I sat there, thinking. “What’s your e-mail address? Maybe that would be
better.”

“Um, okay.” She wrote her address down on a scrap piece of paper and handed it to me. “What’s
yours?”

“I don’t have
one.”

“Excuse
me?”

“I don’t have one,” I repeated dryly. It was a lie. I’d had
plenty
of alias addresses, strictly for college, in my past. But I wanted to give her one, a personal one—with my name—that had never existed before, but I feared if I didn’t watch what I did, I’d be in even bigger trouble.

She chuckled. “Who doesn’t have an e-mail address?”

I was working out the mechanics in my head when the professor ended class. I sensed Zara’s
panic.

“Lucas, how are we going to finish this? It’s due next class,” she
asked.

“
We
are not . . .
 you
are.” I stood and walked away. I could hear the tile clink as she followed
me.

“What?” she yelled. “No! Give me your number at
least.”

“No,” I replied with a sly grin, thriving on her frustration.

When I returned home, Gabriella was in the den. The windows were open, letting the shade of the cool mountain chill the room—not that I could tell the difference. She sat on the leather couch, staring outside at the creek below. I sensed that her mood wasn’t any good when I stepped in. Her cell dangled between her loose fingers. A text from that Bri girl was across the screen, asking Gabriella to go to Reno with all the girls. Gabriella stared out the window as a tear fell from her
eye.

“I’m sorry, Gabriella. But we need to be sure. There is too much at risk,” I
said.

“I have to go out with the girls tomorrow night?” she sniffed, unmoving.

“Yes.”

I found myself restless. I walked over to the golden globe and began spinning
it.

“Lucas, is there something you are not telling
us?”

“Of course
not.”

“Dylan told us . . . about you touching her . . . and what you saw.” There was fear in her eyes when I stared back blankly. “And how you aren’t afraid. Lucas, stop it. Stop it all right now. Have you even considered what the Celestials will do if they find out we saved her? Or worse, the war this could start? Please, I beg you, just let her
go.”

My blood boiled, but my voice strained past an unintentional chortle. “War? Gabriella, everything is too premature to decide such a fate. If we decide to keep her, we shouldn’t be worried about war or the Celestials. We should worry about Solstice.”

Gabriella stood with a huff and headed for the door. I let her go without argument.

I retired early that evening, but later that night found myself walking past Zara’s house, looking into her lit window. There was something about her that I returned to constantly. My ageless body ticked these days in a way it hadn’t since the transformation.

When I put my hand in my pocket, I felt a crumpled piece of paper. I pulled it out and saw Zara’s e-mail address. I chuckled to myself. I’d never created a personal e-mail account for many reasons, traceable identity being one. But as I looked back up to her window, seeing her on the computer gave me an
idea.

I rushed back home and sat on my bed with my laptop. Within minutes I was writing my first e-mail as Lucas Castillo.

To: Zara Moss
{[email protected]
}
From: Lucas Castillo
{[email protected]
}
Subject: Reno

So what (or who) is in
Reno?

Yours,
Lucas Castillo

I tapped my fingers on the side of the laptop as I obsessively refreshed my inbox. For a moment, I thought it would be quicker for me to go to her house and perch right outside her window to just see what she was doing, but then that seemed rather ridiculous. I restrained myself and rolled the citla between my fingers as I paced in my room. On the tenth roll, my computer chimed. It nearly fell over as I stormed to
it.