Oblivion, Page 54

  “But I didn’t do them on purpose.” Kat glanced at me. “What I mean is, it wasn’t a conscious effort, you know.”

  “Oh.” His brows lowered. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

  My gaze slid to him. “What a great motivator you are.”

  He ignored me. Again. “So these have been random outbursts of power?” When Kat nodded, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Maybe it will just fade?” she said, sounding hopeful.

  “It would’ve already done that by now. See, one of four things happens after a mutation, from what I could learn.” He started moving around the living room, giving Kat a wide berth. “A human can be healed, and then it fades after a few weeks, even months. Or a human can be mutated and it sticks, and they develop the same abilities as a Luxen—or more. Then there are the ones who kind of…self-destruct. But you’re out of that stage.”

  “And?”

  “Well, and then there are humans who are mutated beyond what would be expected, I guess.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my fingers tapping along the arm of the couch.

  He folded his arms and rocked back. “Like in the freakish-mutant-looks department and in the head, and it’s different for everyone.”

  “Am I going to turn into a mutant?” she squeaked.

  He laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  My finger stilled. “And how do you really know all of this, Flake?”

  “Blake,” he corrected. “Like I said, I’ve known others like Katy who have been sucked into the DOD.”

  “Uh-huh.” I smirked. This boy had bullshit tattooed on his forehead.

  He shook his head. “Anyway, back to the important stuff. We need to see if you can control it. If not…”

  Not liking where that statement was heading, I came off the couch and I moved fast, just to remind Douche Bag of what I was. I was in his face in under a second. “Or what, Hank? What if she can’t?”

  “Daemon.” Kat sighed. “First off, his name is Blake. B-L-A-K-E. And really, can we do this without any macho-man moments? Because if not, this is going to take forever.”

  I spun around, pinning her with a dark look.

  “The best thing to start with is to see if you can move anything on command.” He paused. “And I guess we can go from there.”

  “Move what?” Kat asked.

  He looked around the room. “How about a book?”

  Which book? There were like a million piled up around the room, and obviously Kat was having a hard time settling on one, because Douche Bag had to tell her to focus. She twisted sideways, focusing her attention on the couch. I had no idea if she was staring at the pillows, the book, the remote, or the magazine.

  Nothing happened.

  And after three hours, the only thing Kat managed to do was make the coffee table tremble, and I might’ve almost fallen asleep.

  “I’m hungry. I’m tired. And I’m done,” Kat announced at some point, and then ended the statement by knocking my foot off the coffee table.

  Douche Bag lifted his brows. “Okay. We can pick up tomorrow. No biggie.”

  She glared at him.

  That made me smile.

  Stretching my arms, I yawned. “Wow, Brad, you are such a great trainer. I’m amazed.”

  “Shut up,” she said, and then ushered Douche Bag out the front door. I got on my feet and walked into the hallway. They were outside talking. I listened, because I didn’t trust him, and I was nosy.

  “What you’re doing by helping me is pretty amazing. I just wanted to say that,” I heard Kat say.

  Oh, forget this. I couldn’t listen to this shit. I lifted my hand and extended my middle finger. No one saw me, but it made me feel better.

  Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed the mayo, lunch meat, and bread. I was almost finished when Kat walked in. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I waved my knife. “You said you were hungry.”

  She inched closer. “You…didn’t have to make me anything, but thank you.”

  “I was also hungry.” I plopped mayo on the bread, spreading it out evenly. A few seconds later, I had two ham and cheese sandwiches. I handed one to her. “Eat.”

  Kat stared at me, and I smiled before I took a huge bite of mine. I kept my mouth shut while Kat ate. When she was finished, she cleaned up, and then moved to wash her hands. I followed, stopping to stand behind her. I placed my hands on either side of her hips, my fingers curling over the counter.

  “So, you had a very interesting conversation with Butler on the porch.”

  She shivered. “His name is Blake and were you eavesdropping, Daemon?”

  “I was keeping an eye on things.” I tilted my head just an inch, brushing my nose along her neck. I inhaled her peachy scent. “So, his helping you is amazing?”

  “He’s putting himself at risk, Daemon. Whether you like him or not, you have to give him props for that.”

  “I don’t have to give him anything other than the ass-kicking he deserves.” I rested my chin on her shoulder. “I don’t want you doing this.”

  “Daemon—”

  “And it has nothing to do with my raging dislike of the boy.” I moved my hands to her hips. “Or the fact that—”

  “That you’re jealous?” she said, turning her cheek and bringing her lips daringly close to mine.

  “Me? Jealous of him? No. What I was going to say was, ‘or the fact that he has a stupid name.’ Blake? It rhymes with flake. Come on.” I straightened, tugging her back against me. She didn’t pull away. Instead she leaned into me, and I wondered if her eyes were open or closed. “Kitten, I don’t trust him. Everything about him is too convenient.”

  She wiggled free and faced me. “I don’t want to talk about Blake.”

  I arched a brow. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Last night.”

  I stared at her a moment and then backed off. Turning, I walked over to the kitchen table. What was there to say about last night? I needed to apologize for saying she was a problem, but other than that? I wasn’t sure. I rubbed my neck. What a mess.

  “Actually,” she continued, “I wanted to finish the conversation we were having before Blake came over.”

  “Which is about last night.”

  “Yeah,” she said slowly, dragging out the word.

  I scratched the stubble on my chin, unsure of where to go with any of this—this stuff between us. “I don’t even know what I was going to say to you.

  “Look, last night I was mad. I was also a little caught off guard with…with everything.” I closed my eyes briefly. “Anyway, that’s not important. This thing with Bart is. Part of me just wants to snatch him up and get rid of him. It would be easy. I’m being serious, Kitten. He’s not just a danger to you, but if he’s playing us, he’s a danger to Dee. So I want her kept as far away from this as possible.”

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  I folded my arms. “And going along with everything will keep tabs on him. So you were right last night about that.”

  She nodded slowly, and I waited for her to say whatever it looked like she wanted to say, but she remained quiet. I sighed. “I don’t like this, but…” I paused. “But I’ll ask you one more time to not do this with him. Trust that I can find something out that can help you—help us.”

  Her eyes met mine, and I knew in that moment, she wasn’t going to stop this with him. For some reason, she trusted Blake. That cut deep. That reminded me of where we were with each other, which was nowhere. Sadness crawled into her gaze, along with a measure of regret, and it mirrored what I was feeling inside.

  Because after it was all said and done, Kat really didn’t trust me.

  Chapter 19

  Things changed after that Saturday night.

  I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or just the way things became between us. There was a gap, one that had to be there for me to keep any sort of clear mind when it came to Blake. Though, sometimes,
it was almost like it had been before…before everything. We would bicker, and Kat would fight a smile. She would brush against me, and I would feel it in every cell. I would touch her hand or fix her hair, and it would take everything in me to let go.

  And there were days when Kat tried, she really did, to cross that gulf between us, but I couldn’t, not when it was so apparent that she didn’t trust me.

  There was nothing without trust.

  So things changed. We didn’t really talk at school. I left her alone in trig class and at lunch. I saw her in the evenings, and this separation between us was chipping away at a hidden part of me, but I had to draw a line somewhere.

  Training sucked up most of our time after school. Not even Dee realized that I was with Kat and him, and I knew what everyone thought at school about Kat. That she was now dating him and everything outside of her “boyfriend” ceased to exist. Keeping shut about that was a struggle as the days turned into weeks.

  And as the time passed, Kat…she didn’t look like she was doing too good. Dark smudges appeared under her eyes. She was pale and drawn, always tired-looking. As if she was sleeping as well as me, which meant she wasn’t sleeping for shit.

  I sensed an Arum only once since the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I spent nearly every night patrolling. Once, a week ago, when I was near the outskirts of Grant County, I felt the oily, suffocating presence and then it was gone. Nothing since. Not even when Adam or Andrew patrolled.

  I had Matthew check out Blake’s records, telling him that I just had a strange feeling about the new kid. Everything Douche Bag had told Kat about where he was from was true. The only thing missing was his uncle’s name, but Matthew explained that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  Maybe what I felt for Kat was blinding me when it came to this kid, coloring my perspective. I didn’t know, but I couldn’t shake the fact that his appearance, his offer of help, was just too easy.

  Working with Kat wasn’t accomplishing much. From what she claimed, she hadn’t had any recent unexpected outbursts, and she also wasn’t progressing very far. Douche Bag sucked at training. He talked. A lot. But what he’d said during one of the trainings actually made sense.

  “Technically, whenever we use our abilities, we are sending a piece of ourselves,” he’d explained. “Like if I want to pick something up, a part of me is doing that as an extension of me. It’s why using our powers weakens us.” He paused, laughing when he saw Kat’s expression. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

  With a bit of my help, Kat had finally been able to move items on purpose. She floated the books on and off the coffee table, and her eyes had lit up like someone just dumped a truckload of books in her lap.

  That night had been one of the last nights I trained with her. The DOD checked in the following day, soaking up most of the afternoon. The visit hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. Then Lydia had paid a visit the next day.

  On the third night, after school, I hadn’t gone back. Not until tonight. Earlier today, in class, I’d noticed that her hand was bandaged. When I asked what had happened, she had avoided answering. Unease had sprouted, and grown throughout the day.

  A horrible thought lingered in the back of my head. Had her training had something to do with her injury? I knocked, and within a heartbeat, the door flew open.

  “Hey,” Kat gasped as she stared up at me. She looked more tired than the last time I saw her. “Are you helping tonight?”

  My gaze dropped to her bandaged fingers. “Yeah. Where’s Bilbo?”

  “Blake,” she corrected. “He’s in the living room.”

  I shut the door behind me. “About your hand…”

  “I burned it on the stove last night.” She shrugged, staring at the tips of my black boots.

  “That…is…”

  She sighed. “Lame?”

  I didn’t know if I should believe her or be relieved. “Yeah, really lame, Kat. Maybe you should stay away from the stove for a little while?” I sidled past her and walked into the living room.

  Douche Bag actually waved at me. “Nice of you to join us again.”

  Grinning, I sat down next to him and spread my arm along the back of the couch, crowding him.

  “I know you’ve missed me. It’s all right, I’m here.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding real genuine.

  Training got started, and I stayed quiet, watching Kat move stuff around. She was getting damn good at it. I was proud of her.

  “Moving stuff is just a parlor trick, really,” Douche Bag said after Kat stacked about twenty books without touching them.

  “Wow.” I cocked my head to the side. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

  He stared at Kat, keeping his arms pinned to his chest. “The good news is you can do it on command now, but that doesn’t mean you have control. I hope it does, but we really don’t know.”

  Geez, he was a really positive polly over there.

  “I have an idea. You’re going to need to completely trust me. If I ask you to do something, you can’t fire back with a thousand questions.” He paused while my eyes narrowed. “We need to see something amazing.”

  “I’m doing my best,” she said, her shoulders tensing.

  “Your best isn’t good enough.” He exhaled loudly. “Okay. Stay here.”

  She glanced at me as he disappeared into the foyer. “I have no idea what he’s up to.”

  I arched a brow. “I’m guessing it’s going to be something I don’t like.”

  There was an odd clank of silverware and then Douche Bag returned to the doorway, one hand behind his back. “You ready?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  The kid smiled and then cocked his arm back. I saw the light reflecting off metal a second before he threw it—threw the knife straight at Kat.

  Kat threw up her hand, a look of horror etched into her face. The knife stopped in midair. Frozen inches from her chest, pointy end facing toward her. It just stayed there, suspended.

  My mouth dropped open as I blinked slowly.

  He clapped. “I knew it!”

  “What the hell, Blake?” Kat screeched as the knife fell to the floor.

  He did not just throw a butcher knife at Kat’s chest.

  I came out of my frozen stupor in a rage, what he had just done finally cracking through my skull. I was like a rocket of anger. Flipping into my true form, I slammed Blake into the wall, my whitish-red light nearly swallowing him.

  I was going to kill him, right here and right now. This dumbass fucker was going to die. I lifted him until he was halfway up the wall.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” he yelled, arms flailing in the light. “You need to check yourself. Katy wasn’t in any danger.”

  That’s it. I’m going to kill him. That was my only warning to Kat. He didn’t hear me, but he knew death was coming. Windows began to shake and walls trembled. The flat-screen on the TV stand rattled. Puffs of plaster filled the air. My light flared, swallowing him whole.

  “Daemon!” Kat shrieked. “Stop!”

  Air heated and charged around me. Her terror-filled scream cycled over and over. She would hate me if I killed him—absolutely hate me. That I could almost deal with, but she would also be scared of me, and that…yeah, that I couldn’t handle.

  With Herculean effort, I dropped his rat ass. Unfortunately, he landed on his feet and not his head. Kat darted in between us. “Okay. You two need to freaking stop.”

  He ran his hands down his shirt, straightening. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “You did throw a freaking knife at me,” she shot back.