The Gathering Darkness (21 page)

His eyes flooded with emotion, changing to a warmer shade of brown. “I would have asked you if I could kiss you.”

Reveling in the tingles that shimmered over me and through me, I angled my face toward his, offering myself. His face inched toward mine. When we were close enough that I could feel the whisper soft touch of his minty-scented breath on my skin; the moment before our lips met for the first time, he hesitated. Maybe he was giving me a chance to change my mind, but the craving was too strong. My eyes fell shut and my lips parted. And in that instant, I felt him, and everything was right. His lips were soft and warm and familiar, as if we’d kissed for a thousand years.

The world around me stalled—even the rain paused. Despite all the crap that had happened to me, I felt lightened.

Then the front door opened, and Sammy cleared her throat loudly.

Marcus ignored her and pulled away slowly, and before we were detached completely, he whispered the word, “finally,” against my lips.

I sighed dreamily and opened my eyes.

Then I got annoyed and turned my head toward Sammy, who stood behind the screened door with her arms folded and a smug look on her face.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?”

In a stuck-up tone, she replied, “I just thought you should know that Dad will be home any minute. And you wouldn’t want him to catch you making out on the front porch, would you?”

“Whatever, Sammy. Go away.” I ignored her and turned my head away from her, letting it fall against Marcus’ shoulder. I heard the door slam shut.

“Something’s different about her,” Marcus said. “I’ve never seen her act this way.”

A thought entered my mind then. “How come you and Sammy never … .”
Ugh
. I couldn’t even finish the sentence, because it was one of the stupidest things I’d ever said to anyone.

But he answered anyway. “I’ve never thought of Sammy in that way.”

“Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“You’re the only one, Brooke.”

“The only one?”

That statement disarmed me. Was I the only girlfriend he’d ever had?

“From the first time I saw you, I couldn’t get you out of my head. It drove me crazy to see you with Evan.”

“I wasn’t really with him, but I’m sorry.” Sammy had been right. All the times I’d caught Marcus looking at me in school, he’d had these feelings for me, and I hadn’t even realized he liked me in that way.

“I want to make your pain go away,” he said. His fingers lightly caressed the side of my face before they slid to the back of my neck where his grip tightened. “I want to protect you from whatever you need protecting from.”

“You do make the pain go away. My scratches are gone,” I said on an up-note.

“Yeah, the magic of the trunk.” He smiled.

“It
was
magic. Maybe Claire’s ghost was there.”

“Maybe it was.”

I lay my head against the wet leather of his jacket again and closed my eyes briefly, wondering why this felt like a bittersweet moment. Like the end of something and not the beginning. Something was off. I could feel it. A dark force was keeping me from being truly happy.

Out on the road, headlights shimmered on the wet pavement, preceding their vehicle.

Marcus groaned. “I don’t want to let you go. But we wouldn’t want Uncle Jim to see us ‘making out’ would we?” he mocked Sammy.

We laughed quietly.

Marcus pulled away casually as Uncle Jim pulled into the driveway.

“Don’t leave yet,” I said, almost sounding desperate.

“I really should get back to work.”

“What?” I was stunned.

“I left Evan without an explanation and with all the clean-up.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t go back there.” I couldn’t stand the thought of him at the Inn. What if Maggie did something to him to hurt me? “Promise me you won’t go there; at least not tonight.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll go straight home. Promise
me
you won’t take the pendant off.”

I’d gotten so used to its warmth I’d almost forgotten about the pendant. “Yeah, I promise. I don’t think I’ll ever take it off again.” I pulled it out and looked at it. “Besides, it’s kind of nice now that it’s all shiny.”

By the time Uncle Jim had reached us, Marcus had situated himself so that he was casually leaning up against one of the railing posts, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. I stood at a respectable distance. Uncle Jim stopped to say hello. He asked Marcus how his parents were and me how my ankle was, told us about the beagle that’d come into the clinic with a broken leg, and then went inside.

Before I could blink I was in Marcus’ arms again. “I wish I could hold you in my arms all night and keep the witches away,” he whispered against my ear.

My neck complied with his gesture by tilting to the side. He gathered my hair and pulled it behind my shoulder. I was barely breathing when his mouth brushed past my ear and pressed against the spot on my neck just below, sending a pleasant cool sensation down my neck and up into my face.

I sighed contentedly as he pulled away.

“I’ll see you at the bleachers tomorrow morning,” he said then turned and walked down the steps.

“I can’t wait.”

There was a longing inside me like never before as I stood on the porch and watched until the truck was out of sight. I had the strangest feeling that my whole life had led to this very moment. That every action I’d ever taken, every breath I’ve ever expelled, led me to now. That this was all there was, and the future didn’t matter. And I was fairly certain that if I kept the pendant on, the nightmares would stay away.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and with it, a new relationship. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Maybe Claire’s book held an answer or two, to the secrets of the village. I hurried upstairs and went straight to bed with my new find.

W
hen I awoke the next morning, Claire’s book was clutched in my hands next to my chest, the way I’d fallen asleep. I’d leafed through the pages the night before searching for words that I could understand, but the writing was foreign to me. So I gave up when every page turned into a vision of Marcus and me on the front porch engaged in our first kiss. I tried to remember exactly how his lips felt against mine, but it didn’t satisfy the craving.

Beating Sammy to the shower was a morning challenge that I won this time. I put on my best jeans—black, low-rise and faded down the front and back, accessorizing them with a wide, black belt and a pink top. Its neckline was low enough that the pendant had nowhere to hide. Today I would wear the mysterious double spiral proudly.

Before leaving for school, I ran upstairs to add a pair of silver hoop earrings to my accessories. Claire’s book was lying where I’d left it, half sticking out from under the comforter on my bed. I took a few moments and fanned through the last quarter. There were a few letters here and there that I could make out, but the context in which they were used was odd. The letters and symbols were woven into strange runes that I didn’t understand.

I turned the last page carefully, as I had all the previous pages before, and gasped with delight at the prize that awaited me at the end.

An old square picture was held to the back cover by four black paper corners. The picture looked to be in perfect condition, as if it had been taken with a new camera in sepia mode. It had no cracks or tears. Perhaps magic had protected it all these years.

Although the two people in the picture were tiny images in the center of the small square, their faces seemed happy. The girl wore a light colored, long skirt, with a short, dark fitted jacket, clinched at the waist. Her long, wavy hair was pulled back at the sides. A young man stood beside her, wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt and dark pants, his hands at his sides. They stood in front of a building, with its siding as the backdrop of the picture. A warm smile formed on my face as I imagined the girl to be Claire.

Carefully, I pulled the picture from its protective bindings, cringing as one corner tore off and stayed behind. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Another picture, hidden behind the first, fell to the bed. Intrigued, I picked it up and held it delicately in my palm.

Shock replaced curiosity as I stared at seven black-robed people who stared back at me.

“We’re ready to go, Brooke,” Aunt Rachel called up to me.

My widened eyes flicked to the first picture. I flipped it over and gasped again. I expected to see Claire’s name on the back, but I didn’t expect to see the name, Christian Knight. The picture was dated 1912, as the book was.

I shoved the two pictures in a pocket inside my math binder, placed Claire’s book in my night table drawer, covered it up further with some junk inside the drawer, and hurried down the stairs.

Aunt Rachel and Sammy were already in the van. I crawled into the back seat and sat there quietly, hugging the binder to my chest, my mind whirling.

When I got to school, I went directly to the empty bleachers and sat on the top, waiting. The rain had stopped sometime during the night. It was warm and dry now.

It was clear that Sammy and her friends weren’t speaking to me today, and I couldn’t have cared less. This was the happiest I’d been since moving to Deadwich. I’d slept a dreamless sleep and had woken up in the best mood I could ever remember being in. Oh, and Marcus’ kiss still lingered on my lips.

I was humming the last song I’d heard on the radio in Marcus’ father’s truck, when the Civic pulled into the school driveway. I couldn’t see where they’d parked, but as I watched the crowd, Marcus emerged. He ignored the comments and shouts from the students and headed straight toward me. The light blue T-shirt he wore complimented his tanned skin and dark hair. My heart swelled.

“Hi,” I said, all shy again, when he reached the bleachers.

“Hi,” he said back.

The soothing softness of his tone warmed my insides.

Marcus climbed up the bleachers, stopping one step below me. He looked straight into my eyes. “Did you have any nightmares last night?”

“Nope. I slept dreamless all night.”

“Awesome. You look great.” As his eyes swept over me, the warmth I felt inside surfaced at my cheeks.

“I feel a lot better.”

Marcus took a quick glance at the students and then back at me. “There’s something I want to ask you.” Amber flecks from the sun’s rays, glinted in his eyes. “Would you mind if I kissed you right now, in front of the whole school?”

His grin was contagious. After a quick glance at the students, I noticed Megan looking this way. I looked back at Marcus and shook my head. “No. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Marcus put his hands on my knees. They parted, and he knelt between them. His hands slid around my waist. Mine were glued to the bleachers. I reached within myself and found the nerve to lift them to his arms, and before I realized it, they were sliding up under the sleeves of his T-shirt, where they rested on his shoulders.

Some obscene shouts were directed toward us, along with a lot of hooting and hollering as our lips met for the first time in front of the student body. Although I was mildly embarrassed, I’d never felt more proud. But tuning the audience out was impossible. Our brief, tender moment turned into the two of us suppressing laughter. When Marcus lifted his head back, the clapping started.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning.

“You’ve got quite a fan club. Does this happen whenever you kiss a girl?” As I asked, a not so nice image popped into my head of Marcus’ lips on Megan’s.

“Never. That should prove how special you are. How special
we
are.”

“I like ‘we.’”

Marcus lowered his eyes to my lips, and instinctively they parted. His mouth brushed lightly against mine at first. I gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer until our upper bodies crushed together. We succeeded in tuning out the shouts this time.

After a minute, he pulled away, smiling, and for some reason, that smile reminded me of the pictures.

“I almost forgot. I have something to show you.”

I opened my binder and pulled the pictures out of the inside pocket with care then passed them to Marcus. As if he knew how precious they were, he handled them with as much care as I had. I watched his eyebrows pull together into a frown, deepening the line between them. He looked from one to the other in silence and then flipped them over.

“Well?” I said when I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

With his eyes fixed to the pictures, he asked, “Is this what you saw in your nightmare?” He was holding the picture of the robed people slightly above the other.

“That’s exactly what I saw, except there were only five in my nightmare and in the painting at the Inn last night.”

He nodded. “So this is Claire,” he said, changing focus to the picture of the boy and girl.

I grinned. “Your mystery girlfriend.”

“She’s hot,” he teased.

“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working.” And as silly as it seemed, he had succeeded in making me jealous of a girl in a hundred-year-old picture. “Christian’s pretty hot too,” I added just to keep on top of things.

He stared at the picture considering what I’d just said. “Nah, I don’t see it.” Then he got serious. “This is all too weird. I wonder who Christian and Claire really are.”