Second Sight (Sojourner Series Book 3), Page 4

  Although it’s a perfect day, when I look around, the lake is deserted as far as I can see, and further around the left side of the water, I spot a beach area where the winds have rippled the sand into soft dune, begging for my feet to sluice through. In anticipation, I wriggle my toes against my flip flops and trudge that way, ignoring the heat. Although I’d much rather be out looking for Lev, Jimmie has made it perfectly clear I’m not going anywhere until he agrees.

  So, until then, I guess I’m beach-bound. I never thought I’d say this, but school is supposed to be starting in a few days, and I’ll be grateful for the reprieve from what Jimmie lovingly refers to as peace. Shaking my head, I trudge to the sandy spot, grateful for the momentary isolation. Although the sand is warm from the sun, the heat radiating from it certainly isn’t unbearable. I’ve always loved the extra warmth against my skin, and while it would probably bother most people to lie in the sand without a blanket, it’s not so big a deal to me. I’ve gotten quite used to being ill-prepared for most things in my life.

  There’s a small break in the clusters of cattails opening into a shallow area of the lake, and while I figure I might test the water later, right now I sit on the beach, ignoring the way the sand splashes up into my shorts as I lie down and soak up the warmth washing over me. My sunglasses block most of the brilliance, but I still close my eyes, feeling the nosy tug of sleep washing over me.

  In a flash Lev is here, standing with his back facing me, his large, white wings spread wide in the sunlight. His skin glistens, and his hair appears as spun gold in the light. I want to call his name from where I lie against the bleached sand, but my voice won’t come. Still, he must sense my thoughts, for he slowly turns, one hand toying with a large conch shell. Grinning, he ambles toward me, the wings slowly disappearing until they have been completely hidden, allowing him to kneel beside me.

  “Don’t tell me you’re sleeping.” He lifts a palm full of sand and sprinkles it on my leg.

  “I was.” As always, I feel diminished next to his beauty and purity. “Why are you putting sand on me?”

  He winks at me. “Because I can.”

  “Don’t you have something more important to do?”

  “Than spending time with you?” He shifts to lie next to me, where I can rest my head against his chest. “I don’t think so, Elizabeth. Not in this life.”

  My breath catches, and all I can do is stare into his blue eyes. I tug off my sunglasses to take in his full beauty and reach to take his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “I’m never far away. Never.”

  My stomach cramps, and I twitch, feeling unnerved by his words because even though they sound comforting, something is definitely wrong with them. “It feels like you are."

  He slips the sunglass from my hand and puts them on my face. “You should go back to relaxing.”

  “Will you stay?” Each breath shudders through me.

  “What do you think?” He lies down with me.

  “Lizzie?”

  I hear the voice, but it’s not coming from Lev. His mouth isn’t moving, and the timbre is lighter, less ethereal. The sky and world around me ripple, distort.

  “What’s happening?” I ask, my arms cinching around him desperately.

  “You’re waking up.” He kisses my forehead. I try to hold onto him, but then something prods my shoulder.

  My eyes fly open, but even with the sunglasses, the light overhead is blinding and I keep blinking, unable to recognize the guy leaning over me. As I struggle to sit up, I see the conch shell from my dreams half tucked in the sand beside me.

  “Did you put this here?” I ask, my trembling fingers latching onto it, and I keep staring, knowing it wasn’t here before I drifted to sleep.

  “No, Lizzie. I didn’t.”

  I blink and take in the dark hair, the nice pink polo and khaki shorts, the dock shoes. A gold watch glitters in the sunlight. Griffin. He looks different, his jaw covered with a few day’s growth of facial hair. It makes his face longer and leaner.

  “How long have you been here?” I crane my neck, looking for someone else.

  “That’s a nice greeting, Lizzie. No ‘hi’ or ‘how are you.’” He offers a hand to help me stand. “I’ve been here about ten minutes.”

  “Did you see anyone?” I keep scanning the shore, but Griffin is the only person nearby.

  He shrugs. “No. There’s just me.”

  My fingers cinch down around the conch, and I shake my head, unable to sort between the dream world and reality. The rough surface of the shell tells me it hasn’t been cleaned up and smoothed. Its form is natural, and it didn’t come from this lake.

  Griffin enfolds me in his arms, and I feel myself pushed up against his chest. At one time, I would never have let him get that close, but there’s nothing like a guy saving your life to tell you he’s not nearly as bad as you think. He’s been the only link I’ve kept to Hauser’s Landing. Some things are just too painful to remember.

  “How have you been?” His voice is quiet and low key as it rumbles through his chest—and, by proximity, me.

  “Good.” I slowly pull away, the shell heavy in my left hand. “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds breathless, unprepared.

  “Jimmie said if you weren’t at the house, I’d find you here at the lake.”

  My whole body stiffens with realization, and I avert my gaze. “Oh, so Jimmie sent for you.” Gritting my teeth, I fold my arms across my chest and try counting to keep my patience. Good old Jimmie. I just wonder what he told Griffin to get him down here so fast. That I was losing my mind? Maybe I was suicidal? Maybe I just needed the comfort of an old friend?

  “Yeah,” he finally admits, looking at the ground.

  “Sorry you drove so far for nothing, Griffin.” I start to walk away but he grabs my arm and stops me.

  “Damn it, Lizzie, just because Jimmie sent for me doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be here or that I can’t help. If you’ll let me.”

  “I’m fine,” I snap and jerk away, trying to keep walking. Maybe if I just leave him at the lake, he’ll go away.

  “You keep saying that, Lizzie. But the thing is, I don’t think you know any other way to describe yourself. You just tell yourself that so maybe, given enough time, you’ll believe it. But I don’t.”

  That’s when I run back to the house. The problem is that no matter how far or fast you run, the past always catches you in the end.

  Chapter Four

  “Lizzie, wait!” Griffin shouts. I’ve almost reach the house, and although I’m a fast runner, Griffin is determined to catch me, which causes both of us to plunge head first in to the dirt. Slamming against the ground knocks the air from my lungs, and I gasp, trying to take in enough air to catch my breath. That gives Griffin enough time to get up and kneel in front of me. His face is wan, and the expression crossing his face hints at feeling guilty about me lying on the ground.

  “You okay?”

  I nod, knowing that if I could just get the word out of my throat, I’d squeak, “Fine.” But right now words are beyond me. So all I can do is glare at Griffin leaning over me, gasping air as he tries to catch his breath.

  “I didn’t come here to be Jimmie’s spy, Lizzie.” He offers me a hand, and, as he stands he hauls me to my feet. “I came because whether or not you want to admit it, you need me, and, as things aren’t going so hot at home, I damned sure need some of your time. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  For a moment I ponder his words and realize he’s right. I can either cuss Griffin out for coming when Jimmie called him, or I can look at Griffin’s sudden appearance as a gift. Okay, so maybe I won’t go that far, but I’m willing to bet Griffin’s intentions lie somewhere between spying on me and trying to take care of me. If Jimmie thinks Griffin is keeping an eye on me, he might actually loosen up, which would make it so much easier to find Lev.

  “Okay.” I pat the dirt from my body and shake my head. Trust Griffin to
tackle me just to get me to talk. Or listen. As he sees me trying to clean off my clothes, he gestures for me to turn around and pats down my back.

  “Good as new.”

  “Thanks.” I scan the ground to find the shell, luckily still intact. My trembling fingers pick it up.

  Together we walk to the house, and while I might open up to him in time, us being thrown together like this is so uncomfortable I can hardly stand it. In one hand I carry the conch, and in the other is shoved deeply into my shorts pocket, probably to hide the fact I’m trembling—which has nothing to do with Griffin’s sudden appearance and everything to do with this new dream, one I really didn’t want to leave.

  I tug open the screen door and gesture for Griffin to follow, plunking down on the couch. The silence is festering, but I’m not sure what to do. Nowadays, I feel I have to guard everything that comes out of my mouth. Setting the conch on the coffee table, I venture to break the silence.

  “Not much going on these days.”

  Griffin sinks down next to me. He folds his arms across his chest, waiting.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You used to trust me, Lizzie.”

  I stand and start pacing. “Let’s just say I don’t think you’re acting of your own accord these days, and the last thing I need is you and Jimmie breathing down my neck.” All the frustration and resentment I’ve been holding back since Lev’s death—all the stuff I’ve thought but never said—is in danger of boiling over. I can’t seem to control myself; too much is too much. Maybe it’s just part of the brokenness and maybe not. Maybe it’s just me, a part of whom I’ve become. Of anger and brokenness, anger is much easier. Brokenness begs to be fixed. Anger is what it is.

  Griffin stands and sets his palm on my shoulder. “I’m not on a secret ‘Jimmie’ mission. All he asked me to do was come up and spend some time with you—to make sure you’re adjusting.”

  “Adjusting. Right. Yeah. In Jimmie speak, that’s code for blowing it off. Game over. Next player. But this isn’t Joust, Griffin—There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Oh, really? So you just drove to Tennessee and got right in the middle of a gang shooting, and that’s it? End of story?” He shakes his head. “I don’t buy that, either.”

  Clenching my jaw I turn to him. “I don’t much care what you buy, Griffin, because I’m not selling. No market, no product, no deal. Got it? Unless, of course, you’re the one doing the selling. Is that it? So, let’s hear it. Get it over with.” I tap my foot impatiently.

  The color drains from his face, and I see a shift in his expression. The frustrated façade gives way to sadness. “I think it has something to do with Lev, whether you’re willing to admit it, or not.”

  “And this is a new theory, right? Did this one take you long?”

  He winces. “Lizzie—”

  “Maybe this does have to with Lev. Maybe it doesn’t. But do you really think I’m going to ‘open up’ if all you’re planning on doing to running is Jimmie when you figure it out?”

  I’m pacing again, feeling all the more like a caged animal—one of those cute little strays they use in lab experiments—poke here, prod there, gauge the reaction.

  Griffin throws up his hands in exasperation.

  “What makes you think I’m going to tell Jimmie anything?” He follows close on my heels, and I curse his long legs.

  “That’s why you’re here.”

  “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?” He grabs my shoulder and forces me to turn around. “Just talk to me. I promise I’ll keep it between us.”

  All right. I’ll bite. For now.

  “No matter what I say? You promise?” I level a demanding gaze at him, still unsure what I will or won’t tell him. Griffin is trying to be patient—I’ll give him that much—but if I tell him Lev was an angel who carried souls from this world to the next, and I’m trying to find him again, it might push him over the edge. Or worse yet, get me committed. But then people are like that. It’s how they’re wired. Anyone will believe a lie. The truth is another thing.

  “I promise,” he drawls. “Now tell me what’s going on.” We walk to the kitchen table, and I point for him to sit while I go to the fridge to get us both cans of soda. Although he takes one, I can tell by his determined frown he’s not interested in beverages.

  Not a good sign. If I believed in portents, I’d clam up right here. But there aren’t such things, are there?

  “Do you believe in the supernatural?” I ask softly, sinking into the hardwood chair and popping open the can.

  “In theory.” He slides his long legs to the side of the table. “But what does that have to do with anything? ” He takes a sip of soda.

  “I was looking for Lev.”

  Soda spews from his mouth, and he almost chokes. His fingers clasp the can tightly so he won’t drop it. I’m tempted to pat him on the back, but that’s not going to dislodge the problem.

  “You were what?” he croaks.

  “You heard me.” I take a drink, trying to appear calmer than I am.

  Closing his eyes, he draws a calming breath and slowly sets down the can before he gently takes my hand—a sympathy gesture, I’m sure. I don’t want or need his sympathy.

  “Lev is dead, Lizzie. You can’t find him—not alive, anyway.” His voice is flat, and I see the struggle on his face to maintain his rapidly crumbling composure. He flounders in his desire to save me from self-destructing.

  My hand stiffens beneath his, smothered as it is by kindness. “Lev wasn’t—isn’t—what you think.” I sit back in the chair and drink my soda, waiting for the next exchange. I guess this is as good of a way to test Griffin’s loyalty as any. I mean, if he figures I’m going off the deep end and tells Jimmie, that’ll definitely answer a few questions.

  “He’s definitely not bulletproof, Lizzie. We both know that.” He gently pulls his hand from mine. “Jimmie warned me about this,” he mutters, his face pasty. I’d say he looks like someone suffering from a stomach flu, but that would definitely make me the stomach flu. Not good.

  I stare at him as my left shoe nervously taps linoleum that definitely needs to go. In fact, this whole room needs to go—and me with it. It’s so 1970’s, just like the house in Massachusetts.

  “What if he wasn’t human?”

  That does it. Griffin shoots out of the chair. The pasty color is worse, if that’s possible, and his eyes dart back and forth as though he’s looking for answers he’s not going to find.

  “You’ll wear out the floor.” I lean back in the chair and focus on breathing, trying to stay calm in the wake of the hurricane I sense coming.

  “Lizzie.” I know there should be something after my name, but the words won’t come, like he’s forgotten how to speak.

  “Lev isn’t what you thought, Griffin. He’s an angel. And I don’t believe his spirit died from that bullet six months ago—just his body.”

  He whirls, his lips parted in a horrified grimace. He raises both hands and thrusts his palms forward. “Stop it, Lizzie.”

  “You asked!” I stand and try to figure out how to diffuse the panic I see threading through his taut shoulders and back. He’s barely breathing, and I’m sure if I checked his pulse, it would be interesting.

  “I don’t…know where this is coming from, and I don’t know where it’s going. But imagining Lev as still alive is just torturing yourself.” He reaches out and takes my shoulders. “You have to stop before something happens you can’t take back.”

  I don’t think he realizes just how deeply his fingers are digging into my shoulders. I don’t think he’s aware of much at all, considering the wild expression on his face—a mixture of horror and fear. He thinks I’m losing my mind.

  “Like?”

  “A bullet.” His voice cracks, and his hands press harder—less horror, more panic. And he’s bruising me without realizing it. Now I see how fast he really is breathing and how little he’s holding it together. So I gently reach up
and touch his hands to loosen the grip.

  “I’m not crazy. I swear. I know things about Lev no one else did and that no one else ever will.” The words choke in my throat, and I feel tears burning again. The old trick of biting my lip drives them back momentarily, but I feel them constantly waiting. It’s as if they know I can only maintain control for a few moments. Then again, my life is in the now. If I think too hard about the past, it debilitates me—and the future holds no promise without Lev. Still, there is the anger, edging along the sidelines, waiting. Powerful, resolute, solid. I try to will it away, but I can’t. I need it.

  Griffin opens his mouth and closes it several times, trying to figure out what to say. “Lizzie” is all that comes out.

  “I’m not crazy,” I say vehemently. “How do you think I survived the waterfalls without so much as a scratch? You saw me fall. But did you see the flash of light afterward? I’m willing to bet at that moment you shut your eyes, afraid of what you’d see. But if you hadn’t, you would have seen a white brilliance sweep in, catching me, carrying me downstream where Lev and his ‘father’ pretended to fish me out.”

  He shakes his head. “You were lucky, Lizzie. That’s it.”

  “Bullshit. Did you see Lev enter the building right before Maguire shot me?” I thrust my hands to my hips.

  “That doesn’t mean he was an angel. And the bullet killed him. He was human, Lizzie, just like the rest of us. I’m just sorry as hell it happened and that it hurt you so damn badly, but it did..” He sinks back onto the chair. It’s amazing what a few words can do to make someone look older in a matter of seconds. Right now, Griffin looks anything but the eighteen-year-old who graduated last year.

  “He was an angel, Griffin, and there’re others out there like him. I know. I’ve seen them.”

  “Saw what exactly?” He keeps shaking his head, as if that will make all this just go away.

  “Around Lev, there was this aura of light. Nobody else could see it, but I did. Even before he told me what he was, I knew. Then he showed me his wings.” I step forward, but Griffin steps back.