The Replaced (22 page)
Authors: Kimberly Derting
When I finally ducked my head, too embarrassed to stand there gawking at him a second longer, I eased past him and found myself face-to-face with Simon. He was leaning against the side of the Jeep, watching me—and probably the whole Tyler-helping-me-down thing—with an exasperated look in his eye.
“What?” I complained, wishing he’d quit looking at me like that. And then I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did you hear that?” I lifted my head, desperately trying to see around him. But all I could see was his face—his big, fat smiling face.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice all rumbly.
Tears were already welling in my eyes, even before I
knew for sure what I was hearing, and then I was shoving past Simon, no longer caring that Tyler was there at all. I heard her before I saw either of them.
When she appeared from behind a rocky outcropping, as enormous and beautiful as I remembered, I nearly stumbled. She continued her incessant wails, loudly letting everyone within earshot know we’d arrived. She would make the world’s worst secret agent.
Thankfully, there were no spy plans in her foreseeable future.
“Nancy!” I shrieked, my feet tearing through the sand as I raced away from the shoulder of the highway where we’d parked.
She jumped up on me, her feet hitting my shoulders, and her disgusting dog breath assaulting my face. It was the best smell ever.
“You’re so filthy!” I accused, but I threw my arms around her mangy fur, refusing to let her go even when she wriggled and whimpered to break free.
“Supernova?” That was the voice that nearly shattered me. The rough edges, like he was reluctant to hope this was real, that he could possibly find me twice, almost doing me in.
I finally released poor Nancy, who let out a relieved yelp as she loped away through the sand to greet her next guests. I stood there for several long seconds, facing the one man we truly could trust. Simon had been right about that much for certain. I could always-constantly-
forever
count on my dad.
I exhaled, letting everything melt away all at once, the fears and worries and reservations. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Saying good-bye to Simon was weird. Weird and hard.
We didn’t have much in the way of belongings, me and Tyler, but what we had was moved from the Jeep to my dad’s beater pickup, the one I was sure had been abandoned. Nancy was already waiting in the narrow space behind the worn bench seat, and my dad and Tyler were inside, pretending Simon and I were invisible, even though it was only glass that separated us.
We walked back to the Jeep, to do this whole awkward good-bye thing.
“I don’t know why you can’t come with us,” I told him. “I’d feel better if you did.” It was true, but only partly. I’d feel safer, and better knowing he was safe, but having him and Tyler so close together was just plain
uncomfortable
. And somehow it was worse because Simon and I were the only ones who knew it.
“I have to go back. I have to make sure Willow and Jett, and Griffin,” he added almost as an afterthought, “are all okay. I need to find out what happened back there.”
I nodded, rubbing my palms over the front of my pants. I wanted that, too, to know how everyone was. “Can you contact us? Let us know?”
“Not yet, but eventually. Your dad knows how, and when the time’s right, we’ll see each other again.” He grinned,
his lids lowering heavily, and there was something devilish about the look, and it made my knees feel all quivery. “And by then, I have a feeling you’ll be dying to see me.”
I started to complain, to tell him he was full of it because I had Tyler back now, and Tyler was all I’d ever wanted. But Simon being Simon, he never gave me the chance.
He reached for me, and the second his mouth was on mine, whatever protest I’d been formulating turned to gibberish. I rationalized it by telling myself this was good-bye, and I had no idea when I would see him again, if ever, so maybe that made it okay, the fact that he was kissing me. And also that I was sure, from where the Jeep was parked, that neither Tyler nor my dad could see us.
But even if they had . . . I might not have stopped him. In fact, I may have slid my arm up, and around his neck. And I may have kissed him back, more than once. And I’m pretty sure that, when his lips left mine, I heard a sigh and it probably wasn’t Simon’s. I’d almost bet on that one.
“Jerk.” But even as I said it, I was trying not to smile, and not to cry at the same time.
“Remember what I told you, Kyr. You’re as human as anyone. You have to believe that.” He leaned down, giving me one final kiss—a soft one, supersoft, right on the tip of my nose. And then his copper eyes, those eyes I’d noticed the very first time I’d seen him, looked into mine. “I do.”
I WOKE WITH A START, MORE BECAUSE I’D ACTUALLY
been sleeping than from any dream or because I wasn’t sure about where I was or anything.
I’d been sleeping
.
That by itself was disorienting.
I glanced around. The embers of the fire my dad had made before “hitting the sack” were still smoldering, but the last thing I could remember was poking at the flames with a stick, while Tyler and I had been swapping childhood stories. Mostly embarrassing ones. And mostly embarrassing ones involving Austin. It was good to laugh again. And
especially good to laugh where it concerned Austin.
I felt better about the way things had ended up, even between Austin and Cat. Tyler said they were good together. That they made each other happy, and they’d gotten each other through the rough parts of me disappearing. How could I possibly fault them for that all these years later?
Then Tyler had leaned in and confessed—again—how, even as a kid, he’d always had a crush on me.
I’d loved watching him admit it, even for the second time. The way he got all flustered and his cheeks flushed and his dimple carved into his cheek. It was sweet, and it had been almost the exact same way he’d acted that first night he’d said those words when we’d been on the swings, the night I’d returned.
The night he told me he’d never forget me.
The only thing we didn’t talk about was my dad’s story, about what happened to him that night up at Devil’s Hole . . . after the fireflies had come. But my dad had told me about it.
Like Tyler, he’d claimed he didn’t remember vanishing, even though he was sure that was what happened since he’d woken up in his van the following morning, just north of San Francisco in a Walmart parking lot. Nancy had been there, too, licking his face, like it was any other morning.
Except for the part where he didn’t know how he’d gotten there.
I knew exactly how he felt.
Basically, Tyler and I had talked about everything in front of that fire except what was really important—our
relationship before he’d been taken.
Tyler still didn’t know how close the two of us had gotten, or that I was the one responsible for poisoning him and forcing this new and far-too-isolated life upon him.
Every time I meant to tell him . . . every time I opened my mouth to even try, the words just . . . evaporated. Like steam in a kettle that was boiled too long.
Or a boy taken in the night.
Poof!
Gone.
But we had gotten closer these past days, being on the run together—me and Tyler. I guess it was like that when you shared harrowing experiences; they drew you together. Bonded you.
I tried not to think about what Simon had said back in the library . . . right before we’d kissed . . . the thing about feelings being intensified due to guilt. That was different.
Besides, Simon had been wrong about the guilt thing. My feelings for Tyler were real. They always had been.
I got up and dusted myself off, wondering how I’d managed to fall asleep on the ground. I brushed sand from my hands, hair, and face, from where my cheek had been smooshed into the dirt.
I wondered where Tyler was, and thought maybe he’d gone into the tent with my dad after I’d fallen asleep, but somehow I doubted it. There was barely enough room in the two-man tent for the one grown man and his giant mutt of a dog, and I knew for sure Nancy hadn’t left my dad’s side
because I could hear her in there, sleep-whimpering.
At times like this my super night vision came in handy. I followed a pair of tracks that led through the sand from our campsite out into the desert.
Tyler was there, standing before an enormous rock wall that stretched high overhead. In the light of the chalklike moon, I hardly needed to see in the dark to recognize his ghostly outline.
I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but his actions were crisp and short and choppy, and as I approached, I could hear him muttering beneath his breath.
“Tyler?” I called when I was close enough, and I thought he’d hear me.
Not so much as a flinch.
He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing, and as I approached, more slowly now, I studied him . . . taking it in.
He was drawing.
He was using the sharp edge of some sort of stone to draw on the sheer face of the cliff wall. I watched, stunned. Completely and absolutely speechless.
I had no idea what it was, but it was a masterpiece.
Lines intersected curves that crisscrossed over clearly marked points and more lines. There were circles, and shapes, none of which made any sense but surely had a purpose . . . at least to Tyler.
And the entire time he kept saying, “
Ochmeel abayal dai . . . ochmeel abayal dai . . . ochmeel abayal dai
. . .”
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he jerked to a stop.
I nodded toward the wall again. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “What is it?”
He looked back at it. “
Ochmeel abayal dai,
” he said again, and it was weird, so weird, because it almost didn’t sound like him. The voice—
his voice,
I had to remind myself because it
was
his—had a strange wheezing quality, like he needed to clear his throat.
But his response totally threw me off.
I gripped his arm. “What does that mean?”
Tyler cocked his head before opening his mouth again. He looked confused, and then he reached up and rubbed his brow. He blinked at me then, the faraway look in his eyes coming into focus, as if he only just realized I was standing right beside him.
“The Returned must die,” he said at last.
THERE ARE A ZILLION PEOPLE TO THANK FOR
every book, and
The Replaced
was no exception. A lot of the folks remain the same, and as always, I have to start with my agent, Laura Rennert, who’s still killing it after all these years, along with the rest of the Andrea Brown agency—thanks for giving me my start!
To my amazing team at HarperTeen: Jen Klonsky, Alice Jerman, Booki Vivat, the
entire
cover design team (I adore you!), and my brilliant publicist, Olivia Russo (who’s even sweeter in real life!). And to Sarah Landis and Kari Sutherland, who are no longer with Harper but had such a huge hand in making this series what it is. You guys are the best!
Thanks to Deb Shapiro and Kate Lied for your
tireless
efforts in promoting
The Taking
.
Thanks to my fancy Hollywood agents at WME, Alicia Gordon, Erin Conroy, and Ashley Fox—you ladies have introduced me to a strange and wonderful world. And a special thanks to a certain “B.S.” (who will remain nameless at this time), you might not realize it, but your comments about Kyra changed the way I wrote
The Replaced
. . . so thank you.
There are also many people behind the scenes who are just as deserving of shout-outs as those on the front lines, and at the very top of that list is my critique partner (and friend) S.R. Johannes . . . or as I like to call her: Shelli. Thanks so much for helping me develop pitches, reading pages when I’m in a pinch, and taking my desperate (early morning) phone calls.
To Melissa de la Cruz, Kami Garcia, Melissa Marr, Richelle Mead, and Alyson Noël for saying such thoughtful-wonderful-
amazing
things about
The Taking
. You ladies truly are the best!
Thanks, too, to Saundra Mitchell, who gave me a little insight into military operations (and the way they’re named), as well as being a badass graphic designer! To my niece, Nyla, for having such an awesome name . . . and for letting me “borrow” it for
The Replaced
. To Emily Ellsworth from Em’s Reading Room for schooling me on Utah colloquialisms. And to my daughter Abby for reading over my shoulder and reminding me that I’d
already used
the name “Logan” in the first book and I would need to rename a character in
The Replaced
(not an easy task because it was a pretty major character). But thank you, Abby—without you, apparently
all
my characters would be named “Logan.”
I also have to thank the best group of friends a person could ask for. You come out to cheer me on, drink with me when I need a glass of wine because I’m having an off day, and give me space when I’m under a deadline . . . and hardly ever complain when I don’t text back right away. I
don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you times a million!!!
And lastly to my family. To my mom for being the world’s greatest cheerleader. To Amanda, Connor, Abby, and now Hudson for just being. And to Josh for putting up with me for over twenty years. You’re the most supportive partner, best friend, and husband a woman could ever dream of. Everyone should be so lucky.
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