Shattered (5 page)

The triplets were test-tube babies,
copies in every way, but had real names and led real lives as the triplet sons
of Dr. Kamon Yates.

Chris didn’t know the whole glass cage
thing was just for intimidation for what Kamon called Temple: the nights he
opened his arms to anyone willing to serve him and also accepted living
sacrifices in his honor.

Other than Temple nights, the copies came
and went as they pleased, went to school, even had Facebook and Twitter
profiles. I couldn’t be the one to tell her. What her mother did would hurt
even more if she knew Kamon had kept his sons and, at least in some warped way,
treated them like sons.

The
they
could’ve also included Remi. Devin and Shane knew of her too. They called her
the pet
. The triplets, their dad, and
his pet would want to rejoice over Christine’s blood. Devin’s warning made me
think they were planning to kill her, and now that she would be out in public
all day, following a predictable schedule, it was all I could think about.

My phone rang, and Chris woke up for the
quickest moment, and then she fell back into her coma.

“Yo,” I said, taking my phone to the
balcony.

“Good. You’re up,” Paul said. “Missed
you.”

“Don’t make this weird, dude.” He laughed
and Emma spoke to me in his background.

“Em, a little privacy,” he said. “This is
boy talk.” She called him lame, and a door slammed. “So I hear you’re dating a
college girl.”

“Is that why you called? I’m hanging up.”

“It’s not. I just wanted to check on you.
I knew you wouldn’t be asleep. You’re my friend, and you’re going through
something. So don’t be a dick to me.” I sighed and dropped the act. I didn’t
want to hang up. Paul was a great friend. I’d known we would hit it off on that
first day in New Orleans. He was hilarious and secretly thoughtful. He was like
me without a filter.

“I’m good, man,” I said. “I really am.”

“How was the testimony part? Did anyone
deny it?”

“No. How could they?”

“Good point. And Devin? How was that?”

I looked through the window. Chris had
rolled to my side of her bed. “It was weird. But … uh … he said something about
Chris, I think. Tell me what you think about this. He said, ‘They are rejoicing
over your witch’s blood.’ What does that sound like to you?”

“Like a last-ditch effort to get to you.
Don’t put too much thought into it. You know how you are.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He snorted. “It means you have OCD and
you obsess over everything.” I laughed. “I’m not joking. I bet you a million
dollars that you have a glass of water on your nightstand and it’s slightly
off-center and a little less than half full.”

I looked over my shoulder. He was right.
“No,” I said. “There’s no glass.”

“Liar. Look, get Devin off your mind.
You’re not capable of sort of thinking about something, Sparky. You’ll
ruminate. So just don’t go there. You know what should be on your mind? That
hot girl you’re sleeping with but not sleeping with.”

“That’s enough. Goodnight, Paul.” He
laughed and hung up before I did.

I plugged the phone into the charger and got
in bed. Without opening her eyes, Chris adjusted and rested her head on my
chest. Paul was right. I was the type to ruminate. My mind would rather fixate
on what Devin had said than being in bed with Chris and how much we’d turned up
the heat in the pool tonight. Those pleasant thoughts were smothered in Devin’s
tone when he’d said
your witch’s blood
.

I should’ve asked Lydia about it right
then, or maybe tonight while she was here. I toyed with Christine’s phone for a
minute, either trying to convince myself to call her or not to call her. I wasn’t
sure yet. Her number was the third to last call in her log, under Emma and her
father.

I heard Devin say
they are rejoicing
in my head again, and I tapped the number. It
rang once.

“Baby?” Lydia said. “Are you okay? It’s
late there.”

“Uh … it’s Nathan.”

“Oh. Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. I didn’t want to
wake Chris. “She’s asleep. I just … wanted to ask you something.”

“About?”

It sounded like she was near a train.
“Devin. The thing he said before I left. It was about Chris, right? That’s why
you slammed his head?”

She sighed. “I was wondering how long it
would take you to ask me that. Yes. I think he was talking about her, but I
also feel that he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him get
to you. Trust me. He’s being handled.”

I didn’t want to ask what being handled
entailed. I’m sure I didn’t really want the image in my head.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry to
bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me. Will you do me
a favor? Will you take a picture of her sleeping and send it to me? If that’s
not too weird.”

I smiled. It would be hard to find
someone who loved Christine more than I did, but Lydia came very close to it. “Sure,”
I said, as I put Christine’s phone on speaker to access the camera. She was
snoring now. A parade could break out in the room and she wouldn’t notice. “You’re
not going to tell Sophia that I’m in here, are you?”

She chuckled. “Mums the word. But between
you coming into her life and my mirror losing its power, I never get to see my
kid at night.”

I snapped a picture of Christine as I tried
to remember a mirror in the long story of her hidden past. “Oh,” I said. “You
watch her through it, right? That’s why she can feel eyes on her sometimes?”

 
“Yes.”

“When did it stop working?” I asked.

“The moment her memories came back. The
magic only works on the unsuspecting.” I was more than sure Chris had felt
watched since then. “Nathan, I have to go. Is there anything else?”

“No. Thank you. I’m sending the picture
now.”

“Perfect. Try not to worry. Everything’s
fine.”

I hung up, and my thoughts quickly became
a jumbled mess of Devin’s words, broken mirrors, and the cute things Christine
whispered in her sleep.

My
witch’s blood.

“Don’t ruminate,” I told myself, then I
downed the rest of the water in my glass. I was over being predictable. But
before long, I moved the glass slightly off-center because it looked better on
the table and returned to pulling Devin’s words apart.

In the morning, after a sleepless night,
I returned to the stack of job applications I’d gathered before the murder. I’d
narrowed my options down to flipping burgers, handing out shoes at a bowling
alley, or being a buggy boy at a nearby supermarket. I wasn’t entirely down on
my luck. All three of those options could potentially lead to something better.
Besides the free food, working at McDonald’s could lead to free college
tuition, if I ever got proof of all the schooling I’d done. The bowling alley
had a fast track to management, and the supermarket paid almost double the
other two.

Sophia came in to say good morning as I organized
the job applications by distance to Trenton. McDonald’s had a location very
near the school gates. It looked like we had a winner. “Breakfast will be ready
soon,” she said, looking over my shoulder to spy.

“Thanks.”

“And um … don’t forget about the envelope
Lydia and I gave you. It may open up your search a little. It’s in your top
drawer. Not that I’ve been in there.”

She chuckled on her way out. I’d forgotten
about the documentation she and Lydia had given to me to appear human and
normal. I hadn’t gone through the entire packet. I’d taken my driver’s license
and passport out and left for a fatal road trip with killers.

I found the envelope in my top drawer and
pulled out fingerprints, a transcript from a high school I didn’t attend, and a
diploma. A diploma!

“Oh dear God,” I said.

The magical beings I’d met on the streets
and with the Peace Group would kill for my luck. It was illegal to create
things like this, things that would help you make more money. It was clearly written
in the treaty. Clearly forbidden. But I supposed when you’re Sophia Ewing and
Lydia Shaw, nothing is forbidden.

“This is almost not fair,” I said, as I
scanned the transcript. They’d given me a modest 3.89 GPA. According to them,
the highest math I’d completed was AP Calculus II. The funny thing was that I’d
actually taken higher than that. Much higher. My mother liked to use college
textbooks for math.

McDonald’s was looking even better now. I
might be able to go to college one day after all.

Over the next week, our house slowly
filled with gifts from Christine’s father–things she did and didn’t need
to start school–and when her official party finally came, I just sat
there and enjoyed her scent as Mr. Gavin ignored me and showered her with more
things she didn’t need.

She smelled amazing and happy, even
though her mother couldn't attend. The potion and her new post-portal attitude
were working like a charm. Her mood barely slipped all week.

Chris didn’t get nervous until the day of
Freshmen Orientation. That morning, she smelled terrified.

“I can go with you,” I said, as she
changed into her fourth outfit in her closet.

“Really?!” she screamed. “She poked her
head out of the door and smiled. “I didn’t want to ask. You’d do that?”

“Yeah. How bad could it be?”

She came out wearing dark jeans and a
mint green shirt. It was almost exactly like the first three outfits she’d
tried.

“You’re amazing,” she said. “Thank you.”
I didn’t mention that I wanted to go with her for my own sanity. With someone
out there possibly rejoicing over her blood, I didn’t feel comfortable with her
going to Trenton alone today.

Sophia took us to the condo listed as
Christine’s home address. It really belonged to her mother. We didn’t see
anything outside of the garage and the complex when we pulled out of it, but it
was nice. Fancy. Very Lydia Shaw.

From there, she drove us to Trenton
College of the Arts. The buildings screamed MONEY. Even the streets were
cleaner, and the grass was certainly greener. Chris grabbed my hand at the
perfect moment and stopped me from spiraling into thoughts of classes and the
kind of person she should really date.

We only made it to the doors of the
student union before someone noticed who we were. Chris clutched my hand as
students floated closer while still keeping a polite distance. But they were
close enough for both of us to hear the murmurs. They were saying, “There she
is,” and “She made it all up,” and “What if they come for her again?”

After the tenth person snapped a photo of
us, Chris was ready to go home.

“They’re going to get used to you being
here,” I said, pulling her past the crowd and into the building. We passed a NO
PETS ALLOWED sign, and I chuckled. Chris, on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood
to laugh. Shaking, she took out her phone, probably to call Sophia. “Stop,” I
said. “We promised each other to be happy, right?” She nodded. “You said you liked
this place when you toured it.”

“I did. Well, I liked the gallery. Does that
really mean I should go to school here? Or at all?”

“You’re chickening out.” I clucked and
worked my arms. She didn’t laugh, so I had to take it further and do a full out
chicken dance.

“Okay,” she said, and chuckled softly.
“I’ll go in if you stop.” I expected the dance to make her laugh harder and
brighten her mood. It didn’t work as well as I wanted it to.

During the Dean’s boring speech about
Trenton’s traditions and the wonders of having a Bachelor’s in Fine Arts, Chris
doodled on a notepad without lifting her head. She wrote:
I can do this for her
.

That probably wasn’t a great reason to go
to college. Maybe her apprehension had nothing to do with orphans and nuns and
fire alarms. If she truly didn’t want to be here, I needed to call Sophia to
bring us home. I nudged her shoulder and nodded to the doodle when she looked
at me.
 

She wrote:
I’m just nervous. You know I’m a spaz.

I took her pencil and scribbled:
I know you’re amazing. Spaz? Not so much.

She kissed my cheek and took the pencil.
She scratched through
for her
,
leaving:
I can do this
, and I smiled.

After a few more boring speeches, a
senior herded the painting students into a building labeled McCray Hall and
explained that all of their classes would be in this building. They only needed
to leave for food if the vending machines didn’t suit their needs.

She pointed to the section of machines.
From here it looked rather impressive. There were chips, sandwiches, and little
bottles of juice that looked more healthy than tasty. Next to the vending
machines, there
was
a bulletin board advertising
campus events and a few people needing roommates. I spotted the words HELP
WANTED and stopped walking.