“Because,”
he started, then hesitated and faced her. “Because I didn’t exist until a year
ago. The police are bound to realize that when they start investigating.”
Meaghan
dropped her arms. “That’s not possible.”
“It
is when I’m not from here. To them, I don’t exist.”
“Of
course you do,” she protested. “If you changed your name, there’s a record. If
you didn’t and you left another life, there’s still a record somewhere. A birth
certificate, a school record,
something
. You exist, Nick.”
“Not
here,” he said, returning to his task. “Please help. I don’t want to be doing
this all night.”
She
gave in and helped him stack branches along the base of the SUV though the
effort seemed pointless. A strong gust of wind would reveal the car in seconds.
Wandering
away from him, she returned a few minutes later with heavy tree limbs to stack
on top, and picked up the conversation where they had left off. “Unless you
were born in the Antarctic to polar bears, you have a birth certificate.”
“I
don’t,” he replied. “And neither do you.”
“Of
course I do. I’ve seen it.”
He
stopped his task to look at her. “So have I. Vivian and James did a good job on
the counterfeit. It would fool an expert, but it’s still fake. So is their
marriage certificate. It’s all fake, Meg, and the police will figure that out
once they realize Vivian and James had no real history either.”
The
thought tightened Meaghan’s throat again, but she shook her head to chase it
away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s
not. None of us are from here.” Nick turned to stack the last of the branches, and
then faced her again. “I told you it was too much to explain right now. We have
to go.”
“Not
a chance. Not until I know more, anyway. You sound insane.”
Nick
shook his head. “Come on, Meg. You know better than that.”
When
Meaghan met his plea with silence, weariness drew lines over his face, then
seemed to emanate from him, turning the air heavy. She felt stifled by
the sensation, but ignored it and shoved her hands into her pockets.
“How
do I know you’re not crazy?” she demanded. “I’m not sure I’m still sane after,”
she swallowed the rest of her words. Tears burned her eyes, but remembering
Nick’s guilt from earlier, she backed away from him when he reached for her.
Then
her thoughts turned more sinister. She scanned the forest for an escape as her
tears dissolved and panic set her muscles in preparation for flight.
“Do
the Mardróch even exist?” she asked. “How do I know you didn’t slip me something
to make me hallucinate and then kill my parents? How do I know I’m not next?”
Nick’s
eyes widened and pain rolled from him in waves. She felt it as raw as she had
his weariness. It drowned her, robbing the air from her lungs and returned
tears to her eyes. Sorrow washed over her next, then guilt again. This time the
emotion came through clear enough for her to understand it. He had not killed
her parents. He felt responsible for failing to stop their deaths, just as she
did.
The
regret that came last was hers alone. But before she could apologize, he turned
his back on her.
“We
have a lot of traveling to do before we can rest tonight. You can come with me
or you can stay. I don’t care which, but know this, Meaghan.” He glanced over
his shoulder. His eyes and face were devoid of emotion, the wall he had erected
earlier to keep her out fixed back in place. “If I had intended to kill you, I
would have done so long before now.”
He
picked up the backpack and walked into the forest.
H
ER FINGERS
hurt. Meaghan held them up in the moonlight to examine the red creeping up her
skin, and then blew on them in one last attempt to warm them. Shoving her hands
back into her pockets, she tried to focus on something else to take her mind
off the pain. Her lungs did not help in the effort. She felt like she inhaled
steel wool with each breath of cold air. Neither did her feet. They felt like sledgehammers.
Too much snow had fallen over the past few hours, burying the path in front of
them in white powder so that each step forced snow into her sneakers and soaked
her socks and jeans. Before the storm had dissipated, sleet had mixed with the
snowfall, coating the trees in tentacles of ice. If she had been at home, warm
in front of the fireplace, she would have appreciated the winter storm for its
pristine beauty. Out here, subjected to its hostile side, she loathed it. Even
the stars resembled tiny icicles hanging in the sky. If they grew too heavy and
fell like daggers around her, she would not be surprised. It would be a fitting
end to this night.
Although
she could no longer sense Nick’s feelings, it did not take a special talent to
understand his anger. He held his body stiff as he navigated the forest at a
brisk pace. At times, she had trouble keeping up, but she thought better of
complaining. When he spoke, anger kept his words curt, adding another element
of cold to the night. She followed in his footprints, both her steps and
movements cautious, and wondered if the trek could be any more miserable.
Despite
the long nap she had taken earlier, tiredness plagued her. Her muscles had
grown stiff, making it difficult to move. She stifled a yawn, glanced up at the
sky again and froze, horrified when the stars moved. They swayed, ebbing
closer, inching away, taunting her. She closed her eyes, felt the world spin,
and then met darkness.
§
“M
EG, WAKE
up.”
Nick’s
voice came from far away, and Meaghan ignored it. The darkness enveloped her, a
warm and welcoming friend, and she hated to leave the comfort of it for the
frigid wilderness she would have to face if she opened her eyes.
“Come
on, Meg. I know you can hear me. I need you to wake up now.”
He
sounded closer this time. The air smelled of mildew, wet hay, and dust and
though it still held the edge of chill, it no longer bit her skin. She stirred,
turning so she felt something tickle her cheek. A blanket, she realized, and
drew it up to her chin. A pair of arms tightened on the outside of it.
“That’s
it, Meg. Not much further. Open your eyes for me, okay?”
Her
eyelids felt like cement and it took all her effort to pull them open. When she
did, a flickering light assaulted her. It seemed unnatural after the past few
hours spent walking in the dark and she turned away from it. She felt the soft
wool of Nick’s sweater brush her cheek, and looked up at his worried face. She
lay nestled in his lap, her head cushioned against his chest as he held her.
He
smiled. “Welcome back. You scared me for a while there.”
“I’m
sorry,” she muttered. Turning her head, she tried to gauge her surroundings. A
scan of the room revealed a packed dirt floor. Hay tufts littered the floor in
spots. In others, the hay had been stacked into bales and piles. Exposed beams framed
a high roof, though holes marred its protection, baring a near-black sky. In
front of them, a small bonfire provided a barrier against the cold as it cast
flickering light into the far corners of the barn.
She
sat up, felt her world pitch, and succumbed to Nick’s arms when he eased her
back down.
“Not
so fast,” he said. Retrieving the plaid blanket she had tossed aside, he drew
it over her. “Rest for a while. I have something which will help you.” He
picked up a tin cup at his side, and then eased her up so she sat. Keeping an
arm behind her back to steady her, he handed her the cup.
Taking
a sniff of the liquid in the cup, she wrinkled her nose when the smell of
rotting dandelions assaulted her. “What is this?”
“It’s
a root,” he responded, “made into tea.”
She
sat up fully, propping her elbows on her knees so she could hold the cup
between her hands. “What’s it called?”
“Jicab.”
Nick stood and walked to the fire. He picked up a stick and then tapped it
against several logs, moving them so the flames blazed higher. “It’s used as
medicine for everything from headaches to stomachaches, or in your case,
exhaustion. You passed out. It should help you feel better.”
Meaghan
sniffed the drink again and had her doubts. Steeling her stomach, she took her
first sip. Its flavor did not improve much over its smell. It moved from sour
to bitter, visiting salty in between, and finished with a licorice undercurrent
which made her never want to eat the candy again. She gagged in the effort to
swallow the first mouthful.
Nick
grinned. “Terrible, isn’t it? I wish I could say it gets better, but it
doesn’t. You’ll get used to it though.”
“How
much do I have to drink?”
“All
of it.”
Her
eyes fell to the muddy liquid. Her stomach rolled with the thought. “Are you
serious?”
Nick
did not respond, but a quick glance at his stony face gave her his answer. She
sighed, corralled her bravery, and took a large gulp. The tea overwhelmed her
tongue and she almost spit it out. Pinching her nose before she lifted the
drink to her lips again, she closed her eyes, and tossed back the cup, chugging
its contents. It burned going down, but the pain lasted only a moment before
the warmth began. Her toes heated first. Her fingers warmed next. The throbbing
eased from her head, and then the heaviness sitting deep within her muscles
disappeared. No medicine had worked this well for her before and those that had
come close had left her feeling hazy and sleepy. This tea had the opposite
effect. She felt energized.
She
stared at her hands, at the natural shade that returned to them, and smiled.
“This stuff is amazing. Where did you get it?”
Nick
slid his hands into his pockets. He nodded toward the backpack resting a foot
away from her on the floor. “From there, with the cup.”
“My
father packed it?” she asked.
Nick
nodded. “As well as a few other things. Matches, some energy bars, and a
medical kit.”
“How
did he know we’d need it?”
Nick
shrugged. “Who knows? It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
It
did to her, and she had a feeling Nick knew the answer, but she did not want to
start another argument. At least not until she had fully recovered. She looked
down at the blanket and ran her fingers along the frayed edge of it. “Did he
pack this as well?”
“No,”
Nick answered, and sat down beside her. “I found it in the back of the barn.”
Meaghan
placed the cup beside her and drew the blanket around her shoulders. “I don’t
remember having jicab before,” she said.
“That’s
because you haven’t had it. Vivian and James kept their supply for emergencies.
Since the medicines here are adequate, they never needed to use it.”
“It’s
not from here, like you claim they aren’t.” He nodded and she turned to study
the fire. “You said you’d answer my questions. Will you tell me where
it’s from?”
“Soon,”
he told her. “Once we get to our destination.”
Her
eyes found his, and they appeared dark to her, much as they had the night
before when she had showed up at his door. The moon was not shadowing them now,
and she wondered if it had not been last night, too. “You said you ‘blocked’ me
earlier. You’re doing it now, aren’t you?”
He
nodded. “It’s necessary.”
“Why?”
she asked, and then pushed out a breath in frustration. “Never mind. I’d rather
know what you’re doing first. I’d think you were crazy if I weren’t feeling the
result of whatever you’re doing. You seem empty to me.”
“Is
that what it feels like?” He took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. That has to be frustrating
for you.”
“Not
as frustrating as not knowing what’s happening. I don’t know what you’re doing.
I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t even know who my parents were, if
you’re telling me the truth and they were lying about their past.” She removed
her hand from his. “You want me to trust you, to follow you, yet you won’t
explain anything. Trust goes both ways.”
Nick
clasped his hands together. “Everything you want to know is related. It’s also
complicated, and it’s going to take some time to explain.”
“We
have time,” she responded. “I have no intention of walking through any more
snowdrifts in the dark, so as far as I’m concerned, you have several hours
until daylight to explain.”
“Fine.
If you want to hear it now, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you’ll
listen to everything before reacting.”
She
nodded and waited for him to continue.
“You’re
an Empath. You sense people’s emotions.”
She
stared at him, certain she had misheard him, but when he said nothing further,
she had no other choice but to acknowledge what he had said. “An Empath?” she
managed. “Are you trying to tell me I can feel other people’s emotions?”
“Exactly.”
She
shook her head, wondering if the tea had developed side effects after all. “I
was wrong. You are crazy.”