Minutes Before Sunset (18 page)

“I told you not to go out by yourself, Eric,” my father said, and I shook my transformation off my human skin.

“Now I know why,” I said, glaring.

His brow lowered. “How could you do this to us?”

“She was frightened.” I threw my hands up. “She had no idea what was happening to her, let alone what she was. I had to help her—”

“Then you felt the need to love her, too, right?”

I pointed at him. “You can’t blame me for that.” The words left without denial, and my fingers spread out, shocked by the sound of my own voice. I couldn’t be in love this quickly. I barely knew her. I didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t love her,” I clarified as my father’s shoulders dropped. “But I won’t hate her either. I can’t.”

“Then how do you expect her to live, Eric?” he asked. “They will kill her.”

“I’ll protect her.”

“Like you protected Abby?” he asked, and his words punched my chest, broke my ribs, and sliced my throat all at once. He might as well have killed me with my worst memory, and the worst part was how right he was.

Knocking rapped against the office doors, and Urte shed his appearance as the doorknob shook. “Dear?” Mindy’s voice floated through the wood. “Are you home? Your door is locked, and I thought I heard something.”

“Eric and I are talking, sweetheart,” he said, straightening his clothes. “We’ll be done in a minute.”

“We’re done now,” I said, storming toward the doors, but he blocked me.

“You can’t do this, Eric; you can’t be with her,” he said, widening his brown eyes. “Tell me where she is; we’ll protect her.”

I stared into the eyes of the man who’d lied to me the most and pushed past him. “No,” I said, leaving his office for the night.

32

He was sleeping in his car when I found him, and he looked worse than usual. His jacket was thrown over his torso, and his arms were wrapped around his backpack like a pillow. He was even drooling.

I cringed, contemplating leaving him to his sleep, but I couldn’t walk away. I knocked on his window, hoping he wasn’t the type of guy to get mad over a smudge, and he stirred.

“Eric.” I knocked again, and he sat up only to fall back down. “Wake up. School’s starting.”

His eyelids opened, and he shot up, grasping his steering wheel. I jumped, but calmed when he turned to me. His mouth hung open, and he shook his head, slowly rolling his window down. “Jessica?” He practically groaned. “What are you doing here?”

I pointed toward our high school. “Class starts in fifteen,” I said, and his brow furrowed.

He arched his neck, grabbing it with his hand, and surveyed the parking lot. It was full. “I guess it is.”

I sighed. “Did you sleep here last night?”

He looked back at me and yawned. “It was more comfortable than home.”

I frowned, looking over his washed out cheeks. “Do you need me to get a nurse?”

He straightened up, nearly breaking his Charger’s seat. “What? Why do I need a nurse?” He ran his hand through his hair and stared into the mirror as if he was expecting blood to trail down his forehead.

I rolled my eyes. “You look sick, Eric,” I said. It was warm now, but I knew it’d gotten cold last night, and his engine wasn’t running. He probably had a cold.

“I’m not sick,” Eric said, fumbling with his car keys. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He stared. “Yes.”

I put my hands up. “Okay. Okay,” I said. “Just checking.”

He turned away and rolled up the window before climbing out. With one hand, he threw his bag over his shoulder, and with the other, he rubbed his jaw. When he stretched his arm over his head, I turned away, remembering what he looked like shirtless. My cheeks burned.

“Why are you in the parking lot anyway?” he asked, yawning for the umpteenth time. He winked. “You were watching me sleep again; weren’t you?”

“No,” I said, crossing my arms.
Not for very long.
“My mom dropped me off, and I saw your car.”

He leaned against the driver’s door. “And you thought you might as well look into it,” he said, smirking. “Even though I might have been inside the school already.”

“You’re always late.”

His brow rose. “You pay an awful amount of attention to me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, turning away to walk toward the school. Why did I even try?

His footsteps followed, and he walked next to me. “Can I ask you something, Jessica?”

“I guess.” I held my breath.

“It’s about your parents—”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I grumbled, refusing to believe he’d pry into my life when he strived to keep his so private.

He whistled low. “The search isn’t going so well, I’m guessing.”

I stopped, cocking my hip. “Why do you care?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, facing me. “I didn’t mean to offend you; I was only curious.”

“No offense,” I said. “But I was planning on keeping the whole adoption thing to myself.”

“Until our teacher ruined it for you,” he said, and I glared.

“She wouldn’t have ruined it if you didn’t have a talent for eavesdropping.”

He smiled. “You mean a hobby.”

I groaned and stomped forward. I should’ve let him sleep through the day.

“Come on, Jessica,” he said, running beside me. “I only have a few questions—”

I gripped my backpack’s straps and dug my nails into the fabric. “What are you, five?”

“I think a five-year-old is more mature.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I said, barely glancing over. His hair was a mess. “Why would you want to know anyway?”

He didn’t meet my eyes, and he shrugged. “I need to know more about adoption—for a friend.”

I shook my head. “I’m not the only one adopted in Hayworth.”

Abruptly, he stopped, and he leaned on his toes as if his momentum tried to push him forward. He raised his brow. “Do you know others?”

“No,” I said. “But it’s not exactly something people advertise.”

His eyes flickered over my face, but he seemed to be somewhere else entirely. His green eyes were blank, and his mouth opened without a word to be spoken.

I stared. Why did he have to be so weird?

He sighed and dropped his shoulders. “There could be a lot, huh?”

I nodded, trying to figure out where he was coming from. “Yeah.”

His jaw locked, and he jumped in place. He grinned and stepped in front of me. “Can I walk you to class?” he asked, and I tensed. “As friends, of course.”

The warning bell rang, and I exhaled. “Sure,” I said, wondering why my chest felt so heavy. I didn’t want to talk about my biological parents to Eric, let alone to anyone, but it had happened, and I’d only been awake for an hour. Ever since reading the newspaper article, I dreaded digging deeper, but I knew I had to, and that was what unsettled me. Confessing my situation to Crystal and Crystal’s mother topped my To-do list, but then what? I wanted to figure out who my parents were, but I already knew the truth. I’d only find gravestones.

33

“Of all the things you could’ve been doing with your freedom, the last thing I thought you’d do is meet up with a girl,” Camille said, spinning around in my computer chair.

It was after school, and she’d been with me—as Teresa—ever since. Leaving the house the night I’d admitted to knowing the third descendant did not sit well with my father. He was furious, and I was grounded. Although he didn’t have much control on whether I left or not.
I could transport out whenever I wanted to.

“Me neither,” I admitted, throwing my stress ball at the ceiling. I’d used it since I was child, but it didn’t do much for me anymore. I was surprised I hadn’t dented the ceiling. “I’m amazed they even told you.”

“Of course they did,” she said, and the sickening smell of nail polish consumed my bedroom. Teresa was painting her nails. Again. “I’m your guard; I’m the one who should’ve told them.”

“I know you’re my guard,” I said, and she sighed.

“I’m your friend, too,” she said, and I could hear her scrape the brush along her nail. “You can talk to me.”

“So you can tell my father?” I threw the ball again. “No, thanks.”

She kicked the back of my bed, and it rattled. “I wouldn’t,” she said. “He still doesn’t know about our deal. He has no clue how you snuck around without me knowing.” I leaned back, and she smiled. “I didn’t tell him that I knew you were out.”

“But you already got in trouble once.”

“Exactly why I didn’t confess again,” she said. Her nails were pink, for spring, and I had to turn away. I hated the reminders of spring’s arrival. The Marking of Change was closer than I wanted it to be. “I told you I was your friend.”

“And my guard.”

“A guard who can keep a secret,” she said, winking her blue eye. “Especially when it involves loveeeeee.”

I rolled onto my side and stared at the blue light creeping beneath my desk. I couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the word. I truly cared for the nameless shade, but I hated the idea of fate controlling my emotions. I wanted one piece of my life to belong to me, but the more I learned, the more I knew how much my life didn’t belong to me. And her life wasn’t hers. The Light was after her, and she didn’t even know it. I wasn’t sure what was worse: being oblivious or living within reality.

“What’s she like?” Camille asked, leaning over to catch my eye. My stomach twisted as the girl flashed through my memory.

“She’s—” I stopped. Logically, I didn’t want to admit to anything, but emotionally, I’d been dying to confess to someone. Her smile was unforgettable, her power was startling, and her personality shook me. “She’s stunning,” I breathed, and Camille grinned.

“My little Eric—all grown up,” she said, and I laughed.

“I’m not much younger than you.”

“But you’re like my little brother,” she said, finishing her nails. She waved them through the air to dry. “How’d you meet her anyway?”

“She was by the river,” I said, trusting Camille to keep the information to herself. “Same day as the Naming.”

Camille sprang forward, and the chair squeaked. “I knew it. You were acting so weird that day.”

I shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” she sighed. “It’s terribly romantic.”

“And you’re making me sick,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. Sometimes, I forgot how much of a girl Camille actually was.

“I can’t help it,” she said, and she kicked her feet onto my bed. “You’ve been happier lately, but I couldn’t figure out why. It’s nice to know.”

I looked at her and raised my brow. “I’ve been happier?” I asked, wondering how much I’d changed.

She smirked. “You actually talked to Mindy and Noah,” she said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out something had changed, especially considering your timing. It isn’t exactly a time to get giddy.”

I grimaced. “I’d rather not talk about my birthday,” I said, knowing where the conversation was going: The Marking of Change. Camille couldn’t let it go, and all I wanted to do was forget it.

“But this changes everything,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “A third descendant; who knew?”

“The elders,” I said, feeling my anger rise again. “I still can’t believe that they lied, let alone about her.”

“I can,” Camille said. “Think about it. If they told you the truth, you probably would’ve looked for her. You would’ve been emotional.”

I frowned and laid my hands behind my head. “But their lies didn’t change anything.”

“It might have,” she said. “If you’d followed the rules.”

I met her gaze with a glare. “You can’t blame me for this.”

“I’m not,” she said. “No one is.”

I sighed, grasping my hair. “It feels like it.”

She stood up, and my bed sank as she sat next to me. “I think you’re blaming yourself,” she said, and my jaw locked. “You can’t let Abby’s death linger like you have.”

I gaped at my guard. “Who said anything about Abby?”

“I did,” she said. “Because I know that’s why you’re beating yourself up. You always have, and this information makes it worse.”

“No shit.”

She tapped my leg. “She’ll be okay, you know,” she said, smiling, and I sat up, pressing my back against the wall.

“Abby’s dead.”

She rolled her blue eyes. “I was talking about your lover.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but concentrated on her words. “You’re the first to believe in me,” I said, stretching my legs out. They were sore from training. “Everyone thinks the Light will find her, because of me.”

Her gaze flickered over my face. “You must be somewhat scared for her.”

I sighed. “Of course I am.”

“When are you going to see her again?” Not, ‘Are you going to see her again?’ Camille knew I couldn’t stay away.

“Soon,” I said, and she breathed in.

“I’m supposed to follow you.” She managed a small smile. “But you’re going to tell me you’re training, and I’m going to believe you.”

I straightened up. “Seriously?”

“Tell me,” she said.

“I’m going to train tomorrow night.”

She grinned. “Have fun,” she said. “But be careful.”

I opened my mouth to thank her, but footsteps thundered toward my door, and rapping shook my door. “Eric?” Mindy’s voice was high-pitched. “Your father wants to know if you’re doing anything tonight,” she said, opening the door, and her mouth opened. “Teresa. I didn’t hear you come in.”

That’s because she transported in. She never used the front door.

Camille smiled. “I came in a few minutes ago, ma’am,” she said.

Mindy blinked her round eyes. “But I was right by the front door.”

“And you were so into your novel,” Camille said, and her blue eyes flashed black. The air crackled with light energy, and I cringed, watching Mindy’s red eyebrows furrow. Camille created an illusion, a power unique to the Light, and I knew Mindy would believe it.

“It was a good book,” she said, touching her frizzing red hair. “Do you two want anything to eat? I just made lemon cakes.” She’d even forgotten what she came to ask.

“I’m allergic,” Camille said, and Mindy blushed.

“I can bake something else if you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” she said, standing up. “We were just about to leave.”

“We are?”
I asked Camille silently, but she ignored me.

“Oh,” Mindy’s face fell. “You kids have fun.” She turned to leave, but I stopped her.

“Mindy?”

She spun around, her face flushed. “Yes, Eric?”

“Can I take one of those lemon things to go?”

She hopped up, beaming. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

She left, and Camille stared at me. “You really are happier.”

I brushed her off. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I knew I had to be nicer to Mindy. I’d partially blamed my father’s marriage for Abby’s death, since we’d been heading to the wedding when we crashed. But now I knew. Abby was murdered because of me. Not my father or Mindy.

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked, and Camille walked into the hallway.

“I’m going home,” she said. “But I don’t know about you.”

I chuckled, shutting my door before I followed her down the hallway. Mindy popped up and handed me a cake, wrapped in a paper towel. “Here you go,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You guys have fun,” she said, grinning so widely I was sure her face would split.

I nodded, bounded down the stairs, and opened the front door. Camille and I rushed outside, and she stared at her old BMW, parked next to my Charger. She sighed. “I love that car of yours.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, pulling my keys from my pocket. I knew she loved speed as much as I did. She’d crash it if I let her drive.

She laughed and strode to her car. “I’ll see you later,” she said, winking before she ducked inside. “Have fun training.”

“I will,” I said, waving at her as I got into mine. My car was perfect, my dream vehicle, but the reason behind the gift destroyed my ride as if it had a broken transmission. It was a pre-death present, and my father was lying if he denied it. He’d bought it out of guilt, nothing else.

I turned over the engine and bit into Mindy’s lemon cake. It was sweet, moist and delicious. My taste buds tingled, and I shoved the rest of it in my mouth.
Not bad, Mindy. Not bad at all.
I had to warm up to her more often.