The Calling (17 page)

Justin trudged from the surf, the water spraying his legs with immense force as he waded to the beach. “Give her to me, Mom!” With a burst of desperation, he lunged for his sister.

His mom sidestepped his advance and curled Cecelia tight into her chest. He grabbed the blanket swaddling his sister and, with all his strength, he tried to yank it out of his mother’s arms.

She jerked back and broke his hold. “Stop that! And get in the car right now!”

Cecelia whimpered, her face contorting in agony. Justin ran to the ocean and dipped his cupped hands into the surf. He raced back to his sister, the water dripping from between his fingers with each step. Cecelia curled her arms into her chest and twisted inside the blanket, her cries a tortured sound above the pounding of the waves.

He dumped what little was left on her exposed face just as a tremor shook her body. Justin’s mom shrieked. Cecelia still writhed in pain. There was only one way to save her—immersion—but his mother made that impossible.

With a jerky pivot, his mom turned her back on him and stormed toward the cement stairs. “You’re going straight to the doctor tomorrow. Your stomach flu’s made you lose your mind.”

Justin dropped his drenched coat on the sand, the garment landing with a wet thud. Chilled air surrounded him, and he wore nothing but soaked pajamas. He should have been trembling. Instead, warmth spread through his center to his extremities as if his blood pulled heat from an unknown source. The hotness pulsed and throbbed until it licked every inch of his body, filling him with a sensation of raw power.

He lifted his arms high to his sides, testing the breeze. The same pulses that had tormented him and his sister stirred the air. He couldn’t see the vibrations but, somewhere in his soul, he could sense them.

Couldn’t some of their kind control the water? Though his dad was unable, he’d said that for those with the gift, manipulating waves was as easy as molding wet clay. Did he have an ability his dad lacked? Could he make the ocean touch Cecelia, even as his mother crossed the sand toward the seawall? He was desperate enough to try.

Harnessing the electricity that charged the air, Justin wrapped his essence around a wave flowing toward the beach. The sensation of standing on the sand, yet being a part of the water, as if immersed, overwhelmed him.

He dug his mind into the wave like fingers clawing at mud. The water felt solid and tangible. He rolled the liquid into a tight ball, breathed in deep, and commanded the water to rise. A swirling cylinder ascended from the ocean, dancing just above the waves. Hope for his sister welled in his chest. With all his power, he flung it toward Cecelia.

His mother’s tormented scream made his heart stop dead. The spiraling vortex crashed to the sand a foot from touching the wool swaddling his sister. In the same moment, the energy of the Calling swept back to sea like a tsunami whose destruction had abruptly ended. With it went the warmth enveloping him, and he shook violently, his shoulders trembling.

It was over.

His mother whirled to face him. She held out an empty blanket, water dripping from the seams. “Where is she?” Her eyes wide with horror, she threw the blanket onto the sand and tugged back the wet folds, desperately searching with trembling hands. When she pulled back the last piece of fabric, her face contorted into an expression of panic, then understanding. The scream that tore from her chest echoed off the seawall, never ceasing.

Under the glowing moon, in the chill of January, Justin lost his sister and mother forever.

Chapter 11

Justin sat up, panting for breath. Where was he? A streetlight outside the room bathed the furnishings in a pale yellow glow.
Mandy’s apartment
. He could feel her soft bed beneath him and hear her whispered breaths as she slept, but the calm of the room did nothing to ease his pounding heart. He twisted the sheets between strained fingers, unable to purge the sound of his mom’s wailing or her expression of terror and pain.

Christ, the task had been simple—get to water when the Calling started. Any ten year old was capable of that—except him.

Mandy stirred next to him, her legs stretching beneath the sheets. She yawned and brushed her hand across his back. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t. But he’d be fine in a few minutes, and he didn’t want her to worry. As he slowly drew in a lungful of air, he lay back down and settled next to her, relieved that after having a bad dream, for the first time, he hadn’t woken up alone.

Just when Mandy nestled her head on his chest, a rapping sound pierced the quiet.

“Is someone at the door?” she asked.

He glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. Two in the morning. Who would knock this late? A loud thud came from outside, as if someone had slammed their body against the door.
What the hell?

Mandy lifted up, her eyes wide. “Are they trying to break in?”

“I’ll check it out.” As sick as it sounded, he was glad for the action. Chasing off a burglar might prevent the dream from haunting him again as soon as he closed his eyes. He hopped from the bed and tugged on mesh shorts. “Stay here.”

Mandy slid off the bed, pulled a silk robe over her naked body, and cinched the ties around her waist. Christ, she looked beautiful. Though the time was inopportune, his body stirred.

Another thud broke him from his Mandy-induced trance. He needed to take care of the crazy person outside, then he could take care of her. Damn, he might need to stay here every night. The nightmare recovery factor was much more efficient than at home.

“I know Justin’s in there!” Ty’s voice carried through the apartment.

For a split second, he and Mandy stared at each other in mutual shock.

“This isn’t good,” she whispered.

Justin cracked his neck and shook his limbs one by one. No, it wasn’t good, but if Ty had come for a fight, he’d happily give it to him. It was time to teach the fucker a lesson.

* * *

Mandy’s stomach sank as she followed Justin into the living room. From Justin’s balled hands and raging eyes, he was obviously ready to pound Ty. Though she couldn’t blame him, she also didn’t want him getting hurt.

She darted in front of him and spread her body over the door with her arms wide. “Why don’t you let me handle this?”

“He’s been drinking. You’re not going near him.”

“How do you know?”

He took her by the wrist and maneuvered her behind him. “Gravelly voice.”

“I should call the police.”

Justin reached for the doorknob. “I can handle it.” He flung open the door.

Ty stood on her welcome mat with his shirt half-tucked into his cargo pants and his sandy blond hair disheveled. He stared at Justin, his nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and the smell of alcohol oozed from his pores.

Justin balled his hands even tighter and, with a powerful pace that promised a brawl, he marched his broad frame onto the porch. “You need to sober up before we talk.”

Ty peered over Justin’s shoulder, and his eyes zeroed in on Mandy. She tightened her robe, the thin silk making her feel exposed, but there was no point in hiding. Even to a drunk man, it had to be obvious she and Justin had slept together.

She held her head high, looking down her nose at him. “Go home, Ty, before you cause a scene.”

Ty’s face fell as his gaze washed over her, then his eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “If I’d known what a slut you were, I’d have broken up with you sooner.”

Mandy inhaled sharply, his words stinging like angry fire ants. Oh, what she would have given to be a man in that moment so she could pound Ty into the floor. From Justin’s expression, he was going to do it for her, and she wasn’t sure she’d stop him.

“You need to take your foul mouth out of here, now,” Justin growled.

“Or you’ll what? Kick the crap out of me and fuck the slut after you’re done?”

In that second, her whole world slowed when Justin lunged for Ty. His fist slammed into Ty’s cheek, the cracking sound echoing off the cement. She shrieked as Ty’s back crashed into the porch’s iron railing. With a loud whoosh, his chest collapsed, the breath evacuating like a popped balloon.

Justin strode toward his ex-best friend, his eyes blood-crazed. Looming over Ty, he grabbed his collar, then slammed him, face first, onto the concrete landing. As Ty gasped for breath, Justin rammed one knee into his back. The other knee ground Ty’s face into the landing. “Apologize!”

Blood oozed from Ty’s nose, draining onto his tightly clamped lips.

“Get off him!” Mandy demanded.

“Not until he apologizes!”

“He’s drunk, Justin! He’s not going to give in no matter how painful you make it.”

Justin stared at her incredulously, and she realized her words must have sounded as if she were taking Ty’s side. But, God bless him, despite the wrath in his eyes and his quivering muscles, he slowly rose.

Ty pushed up on his palms and squatted. He wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, leaving a streak of red on the white shirt. His nostrils leaned too far to the right or maybe the blood just created an optical illusion. She fought the urge to check if it was broken.

Ty’s eyes narrowed at her. “You like making out with a different guy every night?”

Her attention shot to Justin.

He leaned against the balcony railing, his incredulous glare moving from Ty to her. “What’s he talking about?”

Ty smirked. “Wednesday night. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Mandy?” Justin’s face took on the same beaten expression as Ty’s after he’d taken the first punch.

She gnawed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should have let Justin finish Ty off. The bastard so deserved it.

Justin’s eyes grew tighter every second she delayed answering, so she squared her shoulders, and said, “He kissed me. I kicked—”

“You know you liked it,” Ty interrupted, his gaze never leaving Justin’s face.

“If I liked it so much, why did I kick you out?”

“’Cause you wanted me,” Ty replied, bracing his hands on his thighs and pushing himself to his feet. “And you were afraid you couldn’t control yourself.”

“Christ,” Justin snorted. “You kissed him?”

“You seriously believe I kissed this asshole back?”

“Do I need to phone the police, Mandy?” her neighbor called from the bottom of the stairs. In his arms, he held a red Dachshund who shook from fright.

“No.” She pointed at Ty. “This man was just leaving.”

Her neighbor cocked an eyebrow in obvious annoyance. “Can you keep it down, then? Some of us are trying to sleep.” He petted his puppy’s head, and the dog whimpered.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stevens. We’ll wrap it up.”

The Dachshund yipped as the man nodded and shuffled back into his apartment.

Justin stepped toward Mandy. He curled an arm around her waist and pushed her inside the apartment. With one hand on the door and the other holding her back, he turned to face Ty, a small smile playing across his lips. “If you think she’s such a slut, Ty, why don’t you tell her about Kirsten?”

Mandy froze.
Kirsten? And Ty? In the same sentence?
She clutched her stomach. Oh, God, she felt sick. “Man-whore,” she growled. “Don’t ever come near me again!”

Ty’s face went slack. Before he could respond, Justin slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Justin planted his hands on his hips, feeling guilty as hell that he was going to force her to focus on Ty’s kiss, when her brain was probably bogged down with images of her ex and Kirsten, but his mind was bowled over with pictures of Ty kissing her. “Look, I know you need to digest the Kirsten thing, but did you kiss him back or not?” Acid ate at his stomach while he waited for her answer.

“He forced himself on me,” she said, her gaze flinty. “I told him we were through and kicked him out.”

Justin’s head tipped back, relief washing over him. He would have wallowed in the emotion longer, but he feared she was going to kick his ass for not telling her about Kirsten sooner.

Looking disoriented, she stumbled to the couch and sat down. “Kirsten? How did you know?”

A mental picture of Ty’s naked white ass as he pumped into Kirsten made him shudder. If they made a memory killer, he’d have paid a year’s salary to get that image incinerated from his brain. “I caught them in bed together. That’s why I threw Ty out of my house.”

She slunk deep into the couch cushions. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No.” The hurt on her face made him ache.

“Why?”

He crossed the living room and sat next to her, placing his hand on her knee. She didn’t try to inch away from him. He hoped that was a good sign. “I had a friend in high school whose girl was cheating on him. I saw her at a party playing tonsil hockey with a guy on our football team, and I felt obligated to tell my friend. He kept the girlfriend and dumped me instead.”