TIED (A Fire Born Novel) (4 page)

“What?” I glance away, finding it difficult to concentrate.

“I’ll race you to the falls.” He crouches, still smiling at me.

“You want to race?” I have the urge to pull away my hand, now tingling with tiny shocks. “You’ve lost your mind, or I have since this is my hallucination.” I give a weak laugh.

“You’re
not
hallucinating.” He huffs. “Trust me, please. Now, when I say go, go. Okay?”

I shrug.

He squeezes my hand, electricity racing up my arm. “Go!” He takes off, practically dragging me behind him. The rich smell of the forest inundates my senses. Cushioned grass under my feet, Max’s steady breathing, the wind in my hair—all come rushing back. He laughs—the sweetest sound I know.

“Believe me now?” His voice carries over the wind rushing by my ears.

I smile and let go of his hand, speeding passed him.

“Layla, wait!” He reaches for my hand, and we leap off the ledge and plunge into the pool below, Max gripping my hand as if it’s a life raft, until our heads break the surface.

Water streams down his face. “I missed you so much. Please forgive me.”

“I missed you, too.” My voice hitches, as he gazes into my eyes. I splash him in the face. “Don’t leave again.”

“I won’t.

• • •

4

I woke in my own bed, with a crick in my neck, hair damp, head spinning, wondering how I’d made it home from the hospital without any recollection.

The sun sat below the horizon, sending a pale pink tinge across the surface of the water.
Sunrise.
Stillness penetrated the room. I laid an arm over my eyes, my throbbing head aching a little under the touch. With exhaustion still rolling through my body, the resonance of another impossible vision clattered in my thoughts.

Something moved from within the shadows.

I jumped and stared wide-eyed into the face of my hallucination.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “Can I get you anything?”

I closed my eyes again. “I’ve officially lost my mind.” I wondered whether the doctor had been wrong about my quickly healed concussion. I’d obviously done more harm to my already damaged brain.

“Your head is fine.” He chuckled, and the bed shook. “I told you I wouldn’t leave.” He winked at me.

I ignored the apparition, climbed out of bed, and stared into the bathroom mirror. My hair had little twigs in it, like I’d been thrashing around outdoors all night. I yanked them out and pulled the mass on top of my head, pinning it down.

“What are you doing?” my hallucination asked, concern lacing his words as I grabbed my dance bag off the floor. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t hear you.” I stuck my fingers in my ears.

He laughed as I walked out my bedroom door, down the stairs and out of the house.

“Teine! Where are you going? You were just released from the hospital!” My mom ran after me, but I slid into my car and pulled away, rolling my window down with the crank, trying to push the vision of Max out of my head, and convince myself I was sane.

The sun lifted above the horizon in a blinding blaze. Sweet salt air drenched with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle bathed my face as I leaned out the open window and inhaled a deep breath.

I loved the South. Giant oaks canopied the roads. Spanish moss swayed in the breeze, and waves crashed endlessly along the shore. The peace was undeniable. If only I could keep the same sense of tranquility in my life.

Driving past the bend of US 1, I pulled onto the shoulder, and sat watching surfers as they paddled out in the flat ocean, probably hoping for bigger waves that would never come. The East coast was notorious for flat surf in the summer; our waves were big in the chill of winter and the height of hurricane season.

The school parking lot filled slowly as I sat parked, regretting that I ran out of the house. Benny leaned against the crumbling brick wall outside the dance studio, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me.

“What happened?” Her usual accusing tone reared up as I walked toward her.

“What are you talking about?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Why are you here?”

I scowled at her. “Why are
you
here?” Only lead dancers and their understudy’s had practice so early, and Benny wasn’t a lead.

“I’m here because … because I am.” She muttered along, following closely beside me.

“Benny.” I stopped and stared her square in the face. “Stop. I’m okay.”

“Fine.” She stomped off toward the dressing room.

I rubbed my head and headed in the other direction.

The sun continued to rise and stream through the pale muted windows of the dance studio as I sat waiting for the others who wandered in, yawning and tugging on their ballet slippers. With aching, tight muscles, I took my usual place in the front of the studio to begin our warm- ups.

“Layla?” Ms. Trudy’s stern tone echoed through the stillness of the room. “No, no, my dear. I will not have my lead dancer here two days after a concussion. Go home.”

“But …”
I need to dance. To feel normal. Even if only for an hour.

She shook her head. “I will not risk your health. You may stay and watch, but no rehearsals for you.” She turned her back and began the music, ending the discussion.

I slumped over to the side of the dance floor and sank down. Dena took my place in the front, gloating with her smug face.
Idiot.

The great thing about attending a performing arts high school was being able to dance everyday and having my other classes take a back seat. The bad thing—on the days I couldn’t dance, all there was left were the other classes.

I decided to check myself out early. Mrs. Blake, our school nurse, gave me a sympathetic hug, making me promise I would take better care of myself, and listen to my doctor’s orders, before handing me my release slip.

Afraid of what I would find lurking in my bedroom, I spent the rest of the day driving around aimlessly, surprised Benny wasn’t tailing me, or texting every two seconds asking where I was.

Queen palms swayed in the ocean breeze as I hesitantly pulled into my driveway that evening. The giant red hibiscus lining the front walk struggled to stay upright against the increasing wind. Our faded tan with cream shutter Key-West-style house sat back off the road, its silver metal roof glinting in the sun. I loved our house—the way the wooden planks creaked under my feet, and the damp salty air rushed in from the ocean, and how the oversized windows glittered in the afternoon light.

As I walked inside, our heavy front door creaked.

“Well, hello, Layla.”

Great.
My mother never called me Layla.

“Feeling okay? I hope, since I would know no different after you sped from the house!”

“Sorry. I’m fine … I guess.” I smiled a little, trying to distract her questioning gaze.

Although she continued staring at me, she didn’t push, surprisingly. After changing out of my dance clothes and putting on clean jeans, I decided to help with dinner. It seemed like the most obvious diversion, so I cut the potatoes while Mom continued glancing toward me. We ate on the back porch, and I tried to make small talk while pushing food around my plate.

“Do you want to tell me what is going on with you?” The lines on my mother’s forehead deepened. She knew when something was wrong, and she also knew if I wanted to talk, I would.

Even if I had wanted to talk, which I didn’t, I had no idea what I would possibly say. ‘I saw Max again. You remember Max. Oh, and I’m losing my mind, too.’ That wouldn’t have gone over well. She’d have had me admitted into the psych ward that night.

“Nothing’s going on, Mom.” An impending storm held my attention as I stared past her at the ocean, quickly becoming an unorganized mess of waves and white caps. Gusts rattled the wind chimes above my head and made the ceiling fan creak back and forth as it tried to glide around in its smooth continuous circle.

My mother sighed. “You are suffering from exhaustion. You will not be able to keep up the same pace next year.”

I pushed my chair back, the legs grinding against the wood floor, and rested my forehead on the edge of the table. “I’m doing my best,” I said into my lap. “How do you think I have the lead in the show?”

“Teine, sit up, please. This is important.”

I raised my head, resting it lazily against my arm.

“Thank you. I know how talented you are. That is not what I am trying to say. I need to know what is going on with you.”

I needed to know the answer to that question as well. “Wish I could tell you.” I shrugged and stood up. “Wish I knew,” I said, heading toward the screen door.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

I stopped. “I’ll be okay, Mom, really.”

“I hope you know you can come to me about anything.” She bowed her head.

I closed the door behind me.
You wouldn’t understand. No one would.

No stars shined in the blackened, turbulent sky as I made my way toward the shoreline, sea oats rustling in the wake of the approaching storm. My vision adjusted to the dimming light. Squinting, I glimpsed the outline of a moving shadow, my gaze falling on him from a distance.

The one watching me from the dunes.

His shape appeared blurred and indistinct, like he wore a cloak that rippled with the wind. Tilting his head, his focus abruptly changed to somewhere behind me. I shifted my weight, only to find another figure a few yards away, hidden by darkness, standing near the water’s edge.

My hands pulsed, a strange heat puddling into my palms, and I backed up, rubbing them against the front of my jeans. My chest rose and fell with stabs of uneven breaths, and an ear splitting cackle rang out along the beach.

“You think you can protect her?” The cloaked figure took a step away from the sand dunes and stood on the vacant shoreline, facing me.

I glanced to my right and left, trying to master some type of control, or comprehension, wondering whether I should run, scream, or fight.

“We haven’t met, have we, Teine?” The voice rang out again. “Or should I call you Layla now?” He laughed. “As if a different name could hide you.” He took a step forward. “You’ve been difficult to find, I’ll give you that. Much harder than your father was.”

My father?

Stumbling over my feet in the loose sand, my hands blazing, I tried to back farther away. Clenching my fists, barely able to stand the heat, I realized, too late, that I was backing toward the other person on the beach. I stopped, steadying myself.
Only a hallucination. Side affect from the concussion.

“Together again, I see.” The figure yelled out over the howling wind and took another few steps in my direction. “How wonderful.” He shifted his stance toward the person standing near me. I moved to the side, tripping over my feet again, and attempted to keep both figures in my sight. Glancing toward my back porch light shining in the distance, I figured I could make it if I ran.
Maybe.
Yet something told me not to move.

“A lovely night. Don’t you agree?” The cloaked figure waved his hand casually toward the squally sky. “You have hidden her well these years.” He inclined his head, a gesture that seemed respectful. “Such a shame, though. You really should have stayed away.” He clapped his hands together and snickered. “You cannot protect her anymore. I am sorry to say. Oh, what am I saying? I am not sorry at all. It is a joyous occasion!”

An influx of heat ripped through the cool night air at my side. I glanced over my shoulder, and the wind increased, pushing hard against me. I planted my feet attempting to stay upright in the loose sand.

“Stay away from Layla.” The second figure spoke, low and muffled as if he was talking through a gas mask, still hidden in shadows.

They know me. Both of them.
I glanced back and forth again between the two of them, backing up, trying to remember something—anything.

The cloaked figure stepped closer still. “Let us not argue, brother. I didn’t come here for that.”

“You’re no relation of mine. Stay where you are.” The gusts increased, blowing me to the ground as if a violent storm swept off the ocean in a matter of seconds.

“Do not threaten me!” The cloaked figure wavered and struggled against the storm. “You forget who I am?”

I raised my head, shielding my eyes from whirling sand, stabbing heat emanating throughout my body.

“I haven’t forgotten who you are.” The person a few yards away maintained his position. “You have no business here. I’ll allow you to leave. This time.”

“Allow me? No business?” The first regained his footing and wrapped his cloak around his body. “This is my business. You. Her.” He shook his head as if he were speaking a known fact.

In my peripheral, I caught the second figure raising his head toward the sky just as lightening struck along the shore.

I rolled, heart hammering.

The cloaked man stepped to the side, simply avoiding the bolt. “Enough with your fancy tricks.” He waved his hand in what I took to be dismissal. “You cannot protect her.”

“Watch me.”

Three more forms appeared as if out of the air, surrounding me in a perfect circle. Another lightening strike burst upon the ground inches from the cloaked man’s feet. He scrambled back, falling into the sand. “You think we cannot feel your presence? The energy you create? You are a fool! They will come for her. For both of you!”

“I am not hiding from you. Or from anyone.” The figure beside me spun and disappeared, only to reappear crouching over the cloaked man. “No one will touch her.”

Howling wind blew my hair everywhere, and pinned me to the ground. A blinding light cast across the surface of the water, and the man’s body rose off the ground, his rippling cloak glowing against the night sky, before he fell down in a crumple and went still.

My body quaked; heat singeing my hands. I rubbed them on my pants, trying to cool the burn.

“Take her inside,” someone shouted.

“What are you doing
here
?”

“I had to come.”

“You’re luring them to her!”