The Lost Saint (12 page)

“Heck, yeah, they did!” April squealed. “Did you see the look on that guy’s face when he hit the ground? Seriously, that was the coolest thing ever. He was all like, ‘Come here, defenseless little girl,’ and then you were like,
‘Bam!
Take that, suck-face! I’ve got superpowers!’ ”

I laughed. “Um, you’re kind of forgetting about the part where he knocked me down and was about to take my face off.”

“Yes, but that’s why the universe created boys like Talbot. Those other guys practically peed their pants when they saw him.”

“Yeah, didn’t you think that was kind of weird? I mean, what was a guy like Nathan Talbot doing there, anyway? He didn’t exactly mesh with the crowd.”

“
Tal,
” she said, emphasizing the nickname he’d told her his friends used, “is probably a DD.”

“A what?”

“Part of the designated-driver program at the university. He’s probably like the resident adviser for one of the dorms. I bet he could get those guys kicked out of school for being tools. That’s probably why they backed off, but it’s still cool the way he swooped in to save us like that.”

I cringed. I absolutely hated that someone had had to “swoop in” to save me. I had abilities, and if only I could figure out how to use them the right way, I wouldn’t need some random guy to come to my rescue.

April giggled. “And it doesn’t hurt, either, if your knight in green-and-blue plaid just happens to be hot.”

I laughed. “You know, just because a guy looks nice and seems nice … doesn’t mean he is.” I’d learned that all too well with Pete Bradshaw last year.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” April shouted so loud I slammed on the breaks, thinking we were about to hit a dog or something. But April bounced in her seat with the craziest smile on her face, like she’d just thought of the best idea since nail polish. “Okay, sorry to segue away from the hotness that is Talbot, but I have to ask: if you’re gonna be a superhero, can I be your sidekick?”

“What?” I gaped at April, hoping she was kidding—but of course, she wasn’t.

“Dynamic Duo,” she crooned, waving her finger between me and her.

“Um, I’m pretty sure sidekicks have to have superpowers, too,” I said gently, sorry to break the news to her.

April’s crazy smile faded. “Oh, yeah.” But then she popped up in her seat again. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be your Alfred.”

“My Alfred?”

“You know, I can, like, help you design gadgets and stuff. Oh!” Her eyes went wide. “I can design you outfits for crime fighting!”

“I’m just in training, April. I don’t think I need—”

“Oh, come on, Grace. It would be perfect for my Trenton portfolio. I want to get into their fashion design program, and Katie already has more experience than I do. Please?” April made puppy-dog eyes at me and clasped her hands together.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Okay. Sure. But no spandex.”

April yelped with joy and threw her arms around my shoulders as I drove. I really had no need for superhero costumes or gadgets of any kind, but I guessed this meant we really were best friends again. “At least something good came out of tonight,” I said out loud.

April let go of me and sat back down in her seat. We
were just pulling into her neighborhood. “So are you going to tell Daniel about what happened tonight?”

“Good question.” Except I wished she hadn’t brought it up. Any joy I’d felt in the last few minutes faded away as I thought about having to tell Daniel that I’d broken my word to him and gone looking for Jude on my own. And even if I hadn’t technically been alone … I wasn’t sure I was up for the reaction I’d get when I told him I’d almost gotten maimed in the process. Not to mention that because April and I had caused such a scene at the club, we’d probably ruined any minute chance of finding Jude through that lead.

And I didn’t know why, but for some reason I felt uncomfortable telling Daniel about Talbot’s coming to my rescue. Like maybe he’d worry there was something between this new guy and me when there totally wasn’t.

“I will,” I said to April before she got out of the car. “Eventually.”

SUNDAY MORNING

Church was cancelled for the second week in a row because Dad was
still
gone. He’d been gone for two and a half weeks straight now—his longest trip yet.

When Mom first started sending him out to look for Jude, he’d always made it a point to be back for Sunday services. I mean, it was bad enough when he missed teaching his Wednesday Bible study class. This was our livelihood, after all.

However, lately, his trips had gotten longer and longer, and today made the fifth Sunday he’d missed in the last twelve weeks, and the third time he’d forgotten—or hadn’t bothered—to make arrangements for someone else to cover for him and give the sermon.

Mom woke up in one of her overbearing manic states, and she made Charity and me call every single one of the parishioners to tell them church was cancelled, and
to apologize on my dad’s behalf—even though
she
was the reason he’d left in the first place. But the thing was, the list of families to call kept getting shorter each time Dad missed a Sunday.

People used to come from all over Rose Crest and Oak Park, and even parts of Apple Valley, to hear the gospel from Pastor Divine. But more and more of Dad’s once loyal parishioners were defecting to Pastor Clark over at New Hope—and every time Dad missed a sermon there were rumblings about the parish needing a new pastor.

The more sympathetic folks I called suggested that Dad bring in a junior pastor who would always be on call to substitute when he was gone—and perhaps pick up teaching the religion classes at the school, since Mr. Shumway had quit. But a couple of the more frustrated and rude parishioners grumbled about needing to replace Dad altogether, even if the parish had been in the hands of the Divines for the last three decades. I wondered if they would still feel the same way if I came right out and told them Dad was gone because he was looking for Jude.

I hung up from the last call, expecting to feel drained, but all I felt was anxiety. That was because there was one number I’d dialed seven times without getting an answer—Daniel’s.

Why wouldn’t he pick up the phone?

He’s probably just sleeping
, I tried to tell myself.
If
he’s still sick, then he needs rest and I shouldn’t bother him
.

However, tension tingled in my muscles every time my mind drifted to the image of that motorcycle that looked like his parked only a few blocks from The Depot.
But it couldn’t have been his bike, could it? What would he have been doing in the city?

No, it wasn’t Daniel’s bike. He was sick in bed—that’s what he said, anyway
.

I mean, why would he lie?

I tried to read a book for English class for a while and then tackled the mountain of chores Mom forced on Charity and me even though it was Sunday. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t shake the restlessness in my body. I wanted out of my house. I wanted to go to Daniel.

I wanted to run.

That was one of the things I still hadn’t gotten used to in all of this being-infected stuff—the need to run. I’d never been a runner before. In fact, our tenth-grade gym teacher dubbed April and me the “turtle twins” because we always came in last during the daily mile: April because she didn’t care for sweating, and me because I didn’t care for running. But now I often craved a good run, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax all day if I didn’t pound out the aching in my muscles on the pavement—and check on Daniel in the process.

Mom was dressing James in his jacket for an evening trip out to the senior center to visit Mrs. Ludwig and a couple of the other widows from the parish (one of Dad’s Sunday tasks) when I came downstairs in my running clothes and shoes.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I really need a run, Mom. I’ve finished all my homework and cleaned all the bathrooms and organized the laundry room, like you asked.” More like
demanded
, but whatever. “I won’t be gone too long, I promise.”

The pinched look on her face convinced me she wasn’t going to let me out of the house. But she snapped the last button on James’s jacket and hooked her purse on her shoulder. “Very well, then. But do not go too far from home,” she said. “It will be dark soon, and you never know who’s out there these days.”

“Okay.” I didn’t tell her I was planning on running all the way to Oak Park, and slipped out the door before she could change her mind.

I stopped at the walnut tree and rested my hand against it while I stretched my quads, then started out in a light jog. All day long, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what had happened the night before. I’d had my powers in my grasp, reined them in for once, and used them for a moment. I’d sparred with Daniel time and again, but actually using my powers to really fight that guy off and protect someone I cared about was absolutely exhilarating.

And I wanted more.

I was a mile from home when the familiar aching of my powers began to well inside my body, pooling in my muscles, making my shoulders shake and my legs throb. I increased my speed to a flat-out sprint.

The sun was sinking behind the hills of Rose Crest, and I knew Mom would want me to turn back toward home. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how frustrating it had been when my powers had dissipated last night and I’d had to rely on someone else to come to my aid. If I’d had better control, then I could have taken those guys on without any help. And even more frustrating was the realization that I really
did
need my powers if I was going to find Jude. Last night’s debacle had proven that to me.

I concentrated on the pain engulfing my body. Tried to embrace it. Tried to will my legs to run faster and harder than ever before.

But nothing happened.

I couldn’t break through whatever barrier stood between me and my being able to use my powers fully.

LATER

My legs were about as stable as putty erasers when I jogged into Daniel’s neighborhood, toward Maryanne Duke’s old house. I’d been hoping to be able to share good news with Daniel—tell him how I’d finally gotten a
handle on my speed and agility—but instead my shoulders sagged with frustration. I didn’t understand it. Why had I been able to use my powers last night, but not right now? What was the difference?

But my frustration shifted into curiosity as I approached Maryanne’s house and saw Daniel out front, strapping down a duffel bag on the back of his Honda Shadow.

“Hey,” I called as I jogged up the driveway.

Daniel crouched and adjusted one of the straps holding down his bag. “What’re you doing here?”

“Checking up on … Um, just stopping by to say hi.” I gave him a slight wave. “So, um, hi.”

“Hi.” Daniel scratched at the bandage on his forearm, then tested the hold of a second strap that secured his bag. He hadn’t even looked at me yet.

“What’s going on?” I fingered the zipper on his duffel. “Are you going somewhere?”

Daniel grunted, but before he could answer we both turned at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway behind us. Not just any car—the sheriff’s patrol truck. Daniel stiffened and straightened up. His dark eyes finally flicked in my direction for half a second and then returned to his duffel bag on the back of his bike. He stepped in front of it as Sheriff Ford and Deputy Marsh got out of the truck.

“Hello, there, sir,” he said to the sheriff. “Is there a problem, or something I can help you with?” He sounded
like someone who’d been pulled over for speeding many times—which I didn’t doubt. Daniel had always had a thing for moving fast. But the pale look on Sheriff Ford’s face made me pretty sure he had something much more serious than traffic tickets on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Either of you know a Tyler Whitney?” Ford asked.

“No,” Daniel said. “Pretty sure I don’t.”

“Well, I have a witness who says you do.” He pointed at the bandage on Daniel’s arm. “Someone says you got into an altercation with Tyler and a couple of his friends the other night.”