Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1) (11 page)

I pause, then skip a few lines before I scrawl something in large, heavy letters:

She’s hiding me.

My pen hovers over that last sentence. So strange. I want to scratch it out, yet I can’t quite bring myself to do it. There’s something powerful in those words. It feels like there’s an answer there, something hiding in plain sight.
She’s hiding me.
It probably just looks so strange because I skipped a word. I squeeze the word ‘from’ into the sentence and it doesn’t do any good. It’s all just strange. I scratch the whole page out and flip to a clean one.

This isn’t working at all like I planned. I guess I don’t know enough about how I’m feeling to write it down. That doesn’t feel right, though. I’ve got plenty of thoughts that I’ve not been sharing with anyone, thoughts that have just been floundering in my head, kind of driving me crazy. So why won’t they work their way out onto the page? A breeze flutters against my skin and I close my eyes.

“Zoe!”

I open my eyes and sit forward, scanning the park for a familiar face. There’s a handful of people hanging out, but I don’t recognize any of them and not a single one is even looking at me. That was definitely a voice I know, though. What was it Alice always said in
Alice in Wonderland?
Curiouser and curiouser. That sums up how I’m feeling about this trip to the park. I scan the area one more time and see no one.

I do manage to find where I’d sat down the last time I was here, though, and so I gather my things and head over. Maybe I just need a change of scenery to get my thoughts in order. Or maybe I’m really just kind of losing my mind and either need to commit to hermit-hood or decide to work on getting myself out more often. Either way, whatever’s going on now isn’t working for me.

If anything, the tree offers some shade I wasn’t getting on the bench and that’s going to count as a win in my book. I sit down and lean back against the trunk and this image kind of stutters through my mind. You know in horror movies, or like zombie shows, where a picture will strobe across the screen? Usually it’s all distorted or grainy and it flashes a couple times, sometimes even with this scratchy screechy sound? Ya, like that. Except this is real. And it’s not exactly a scary image. It’s just me, leaning against a tree, surrounded by flowers. Doesn’t stop me from being afraid though.

I flip open my journal and find that I’d drawn the exact same flowers over and over and over in the margins of the first page. Except none of the flowers in my — we’ll say vision for lack of a better word — have that dark spot on them. They’re all beautiful and luscious and exotic.

“Zoe…” This time the voice is nothing but a whisper. Maybe it’s being drowned out by my outright fear. I can’t be sure.

There are several more flashes, like lightning except the day is sunny and bright and clear. No images this time. Just bright light, like someone taking pictures in rapid succession and the flash is blinding. I close my eyes, trying to get rid of the afterimage.

When I open them again, Noah’s standing in front of me. I mean, that’s the normal way to say what I’m seeing, but there’s nothing normal about what I’m seeing. He flickers and pops, like a TV with a bad connection. There’s this yellow fog coming off his skin and he kind of glitters and glows and his eyes are the most vibrant blue I’ve ever seen. Oh, and there’s a tiger standing beside him, close enough for Noah to ruffle the fur in between the tiger’s ears.

A wide smile breaks across his face. “Can you see me?”

I close my mouth because it’s been hanging open and nod, a tight little bounce of my head that he might not have even been able to see.

“Good. And I guess that means you can hear me as well.”

I nod again and tears well in my wide eyes.

“Zoe,” Noah crouches and I recognize his voice from my dreams. “I’m going to be brief, ‘cause I have no idea how long I’ll be able to maintain connection with you. If you could just reach out a little, try to hold onto me, it might make this a little easier to maintain.”

I have absolutely zero clue as to what he means. I open my mouth to say so and there’s another violent flash and Noah disappears from in front of me. On instinct, I close my eyes and think about him, focus hard. When I open my eyes again, he’s there in front of me, smiling so big I can’t help but smile a little in return.

“Good girl. I know you’re confused, but I need you to skip that part right now. I’ll try to catch you up later. You need to focus on waking up.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I whisper just in case someone can hear me.

“You’ve got to find the source of your power. Your friend put it to sleep, cut you off from who you are. She’s not looking out for you. Not at all.” Noah flickers again and then the light around him flares so bright I want to shield my eyes. It’s like staring at the sun, but with more magic and glitter. “You’re stronger than you know. Dig deep. Wake up.” His voice is starting to distort, to sound so far away.

“I’m scared.”

His face crumbles, so much sadness, so much helplessness. “Don’t be. I’ve got you. You just gotta get to me.” There’s another flicker and Noah’s gone and it’s just me sitting under a tree, alone in the park with the shadows stretching out long behind the setting sun.

You’re stronger than you know.
Luke said that, too.

Ok, so let’s say that I’m going to take what just happened at face value and not go ahead and assume I’m losing my mind. Becca put the source of my power to sleep and I’m stronger than I know and Becca’s all worried about something and not being honest with me. What does that even mean?

There are parts of my life that you don’t know about.

She basically told me she was being shady last night. Maybe this explains Carter’s existence in Becca’s life. I’ll be honest, Becca being wrapped up in some magical plot to keep me away from my source of power makes way more sense than Becca ever finding anything in Carter to keep her attention as long as he has. But if Carter’s in on all this, that means maybe Luke’s in on it, too. That thought is like looking at a painting you just completed and realizing you’ve done it all wrong. All that hope and positivity crushed by disappointment. I like being with Luke and I thought he liked being with me. Hell, I want him to love being with me. I want to mean something to him. But if he’s just with me because of whatever Becca’s doing…

I can’t even finish that thought, it makes me feel so very tired.

Oh, God! Is this why Becca hated Noah from the minute she met him, even though he made me feel so amazing? Maybe Noah didn’t have it out for me the way she said he did, maybe it was Becca who had it out for me the whole time instead. But that feels wrong, too. If she wanted to do me harm, then why in the world would she spend almost every waking minute of her life with me?

I gather my things and clutch my journal to my chest. The protein bar is jumping around in my stomach and all I want to do is go home, but I’m not ready to be even halfway normal around Becca. I’ve never kept one ounce of my life from her, not one secret held between us in all of our years together. I don’t know if I can school my face into something that doesn’t look like confused terror yet.

I guess that leaves Luke. He might be in on it. Hell, he probably is in on it. I guess it says a lot that I’m ready to believe in strange visions and conspiracies that focus on keeping some cryptic ‘source of my power’ asleep rather than the more obvious explanation that I’m truly and finally losing my mind. Whatever. I’m going to Luke’s. And when I get there, I’m going to make him explain just exactly what’s going on.

Chapter 13

I set off on my mad march to Luke’s house, busy feeling strong and filled with purpose. It only takes a few blocks of my frenzied, crazy-lady walk before I start to slow down, the wind totally slipping out of my sails. First I start to shake, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m just that upset about what happened at the park or because I’m in the middle of a panic attack that induced hallucinations and conspiracy theories. But I need to get control of myself because for one, I’m standing on a sidewalk out in public and even though I do tend to be invisible, I think having some kind of fit on a street corner will be the first step to being seen. But for two, now is not the time to get all weak and fluttery.

I’ve spent my whole life hiding from things, either by letting Becca handle the brunt of the heavy lifting or by simply ignoring them and removing myself from situations that made me uncomfortable. I’ve got to grow up and face the hard shit. Right now, I’m all I’ve got — unless you count sparkly ghost vision Noah — and I can’t afford to let myself down.

Marching up to Luke’s place, banging on the door and demanding answers sure seems like a good idea … well … ok. It seems like something that’d
feel
good. But I don’t think that means it’s a good idea. Let’s say that he’s in on this whole ‘hide Zoe from herself’ deal. He’s not going to spill the beans just because I ask. I’m going to have to be more suave about this.

Ya. Right. Suave.

‘Cause I totally rock smooth, manipulative conversation. I mean, that’s where I really shine. I lean against the side of a building — I think it’s the movie theater — and watch the cars zipping through the street while I run my shaking hands through my hair. Let’s really think this through. Assuming that the conversation I just had with Noah actually happened and I’m not totally losing my mind, I think it’s pretty easy to deduce that Luke is part of whatever it is that Becca has going on. I said it before. Luke’s in on it. That’s the only way to explain Carter’s continued presence in Becca’s life.

So what do I do? They’re all going to start wondering why I’m not home yet and I don’t really have a very long time before they start looking for me. Going to Luke’s is a really bad idea. Maybe for another kind of girl, the kind who knows how to say what she means, or better yet, the kind who knows how to dance around saying what she means, you know, on purpose. Not like me where I just mutter some words bordering on incoherent, but like, a real conversational mastermind. Anyway, maybe that kind of girl could stomp over to Luke’s house and get some answers to some questions. Not me. Not this girl. He’d know something was up with me the minute I stepped onto his front porch.

Maybe the best bet is to just go home and pretend I’m sick. Lock myself into my room and pull the covers up to my chin and disappear for a few days. That sounds like the best idea I’ve had yet. I push off the wall and start shuffling my way home. I’m in no real hurry to get there and I’ll be honest, there’s a piece of me that wants to hop in my car and drive
home
home. You know, like home to my mom. Just turn tail and run away. But I’m not going to do that. At least, I don’t think I’m going to do that.

My mind is busy trying to unravel the things ghost-Noah said to me. (I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a ghost, but words like ‘vision’ and ‘magic’ just don’t exactly feel comfortable. Somehow ‘ghost’ feels one step closer to possible.) Anyway, he said I need to wake up, to find the source of my power. What in the holy hell did he mean? Did he mean I’m actually asleep? Like all of this is a bad dream? Or maybe he wasn’t being literal and he meant I needed to find that internal nudging, that feeling I used to get that would make me want to do things that made me uncomfortable…

That’s got to be what he means. He said I needed to find the source of my power. Could he mean the tiger? How could he even know about that?

Somehow I’m cold even though the day is still so hot. So cold I’ve got goosebumps. I pause and wrap my arms around my stomach, hugging my elbows and rubbing my hands up and down my arms. A girl walks towards me. She kind of stops and stares, cocking her head to her shoulder as if she’s questioning or listening or not quite sure what she sees.

“Can you see me?” Her voice is both in my head and around my head and comes out of her mouth all laggy and whispery. Distorted and stretched. Her eyes are the wrong color but I don’t know how to explain why. They’re empty and endless. And then she poofs out of existence, vapors leeching away from where she’d just stood, as a herd of freshmen boys walk through the spot she’d just occupied.

One of them bumps against my shoulder and I’m so off balance I stumble back and hit the ground hard enough for my teeth to clack together. Pain shoots up from my tailbone to my head, from my wrists to my elbows. The pavement scrapes the skin on the palms of my hands.

“Damn girl, watch where you’re going.” The guy doesn’t even offer me a hand, just steps around me and turns to his friends. “Bitch came out of nowhere.” They laugh and it’s ugly and I think I might throw up.

Part of me really just wants to curl up in a ball on the sidewalk because seriously, this is all too much to handle. But considering the fact that apparently I’m really hard to see, I might end up getting trampled. With no small amount of effort, I peel myself up from the ground and start staggering my way home. I know that sounds like maybe I’m exaggerating, but I don’t think I am. It’s like my brain is only giving half—commands to my body and my legs feel like jelly. It’s a miracle I make it home at all, but I do.

Becca’s on the couch when I lurch through the living room, teetering around like Bambi on ice. Her eyebrows hit her hairline and she bounces to her feet. “You ok?” She’s across the living room and at my side before I can answer. I mutter something about not feeling good, which honestly, at this very moment is way more true than I expected it to be. I can’t quite get that girl with the empty eyes and the everywhere voice out of my head.