Shift (14 page)

“But we don’t—”

“This is big, Aura. Too big for us to understand.”

“It’s too big for us
not
to understand.” I kicked off my right shoe, letting it fly into the open closet. “It’s too important to run away from.”

“I’m not running away. But we can’t be together until we know it’s safe. We can’t take that chance.”

“Yes, we can.”

“I won’t.”

His words dropped like a pair of boulders. I sank down on the end of the trunk. “You don’t want me.”

“Don’t say tha’.” His whisper twisted in pain. “Of course I want you.”

“Not enough to fight for me.”

“This is
how
I fight for you. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“And I don’t want you to be noble.” I clutched the footboard of my bed. “I want you to be here.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Same difference.”

“No. It’s not.” I hung up before he could hear me cry.

My body grew heavy, as if gravity had suddenly tripled. I slipped off my other shoe and curled onto my side on the trunk, resting my head on one of the two piles of clean shirts.

Atop the other pile was the black V-neck I’d worn last night. I placed my hand on it, wishing I’d kept it out of the laundry. Maybe then it would still smell like Zachary.

Even as my cheeks flooded and my chest ached at the unfairness of it all, part of me wondered:

Had Zachary seen a ghost? Had the Shift made our parents sick?

Could a kiss really change the world?

A
s I checked my reflection in the dining room mirror for the fourth time, I hoped that tonight would bring answers instead of more questions.

I also tried to forget where I’d been this time last week: in a dark, frigid field, with Zachary keeping me warm.

“Good color choice.” Megan tucked in the tag of my royal blue sweater. “Not red, not violet. Definitely don’t want to wear team colors tonight.”

“Teams? You mean ex-boyfriend versus ex-almost-boyfriend in the World Series of Awkward?”

“Ooh, and I wore black, like an umpire.”

“You always wear black these days. It’s depressing.”

“We were talking about you.” She put her arm around my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, you look hot. In three minutes, Zach’ll be kicking himself for breaking up with you.”

The knock at the door made me jump.

“Make that three seconds,” Megan added.

I smoothed my hair on my way through the living room, grateful my aunt was working late so she wouldn’t interrupt our four-way meeting.

I opened the door for Zachary. Tonight the porch light on his face seemed sallow rather than golden. His eyes drooped at the corners, as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

“Hey,” I said softly. Despite my hurt, it was hard to stay mad at him, knowing what he was going through with his dad.

“Hi.” He glanced past me. “Am I late?”

“You’re never late.” I stepped back from the door into the living room, as far as the furniture would allow. “There’s tea and cookies in the dining room. Sit in the chair at the other end so Logan can’t see you.”

“Why?” Megan asked me as Zachary passed her. “It’s not like they can beat each other up.”

“You’ll see.”

She picked up a cookie and sniffed it. “Mmm, almond. So, Zach, are you really taking Becca Goldman to the prom?”

I glared at her. She knew damn well he was.

“I really am.” He sat in the far chair without looking at me.

Megan held her hand under her chin to catch the crumbs as she munched. “I thought she’d get back together with Tyler Watson, since he’s way ahead in prom king polls.”

“He’s with Stacey Sellars now, and before that, Caitlyn Adams—”

“But Tyler and Becca are historic. They were prom prince and princess last year.”

“And this is this year.” Zachary slapped open his notebook. “Call the ghost.”

Megan picked up another cookie and joined me at the bottom of the stairs, where we could see into both rooms. I flicked the wall switch to turn off the living room lamps, leaving a few candles burning, then dimmed the dining room chandelier to its faintest setting. The house looked ready for a séance.

“Okay, Logan,” I said. “You know where to go.”

He appeared, standing next to the far end of the couch. He cast a wary gaze around the living room, then at the stairs behind me. “Is that guy here?”

“Zachary’s in the dining room.”

“And he’s a pre-Shifter, so he can’t hear me call him a dickwad, right?”

“Logan, sit down and shut up.” I clanged a spoon against a mug to call the meeting to order. “Before we start, we all have to promise total secrecy.”

Megan raised her hand. “Swear.”

“You know you can trust me,” Zachary said.

Logan winced and covered his ears. “Could he not talk? It hurts my soul.”

Since Megan’s mouth was full of cookie, I said to Zachary, “Your voice seems to bother him, so maybe you could write your questions and answers.”

Zachary scowled as he clicked on his ballpoint pen.

“Wait.” Logan raised his hand like a schoolkid. “Ghosts can’t lie, so I can’t swear secrecy.”

“Zach already knows you can’t lie.” I looked into the dining room. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

Zachary nodded and scribbled in his notebook, then tore out the page and slapped it on the table for Megan, who retrieved it.

She laughed, sucking powdered sugar off her thumb. “It says, ‘If he tells anyone, I will obsidian his punk violet arse into oblivion.’”

“Very funny,” Logan said. “Hey, before I share any secrets with this guy, I need to know if we can trust him.” He looked at Megan. “Ask him if he’s a fan of Rangers or Celtic.”

She sifted through the assorted cookies. “I don’t think he gives a shit about hockey and basketball.”

“But he gives a giant shit about soccer. Rangers and Celtic are the two big teams in the Scottish Premier League. They’re both from Glasgow, like him.”

“So?”

“It’s not like rooting for the Yankees or Red Sox. Rangers fans are anti-Irish.” He looked at me. “Anti-Catholic.”

I shook my head. “You really need to enter the twenty-first century.”

“Zach,” Megan said, “Logan wants to know if you root for the Rangers or the Celtics. Apparently, the fate of the universe depends on your answer.”

Zachary gave a silent scoff. His left eye twitched as he scrawled his essay-length response. Then he tossed the whole notebook to Megan.

She angled the paper to the dim light of the chandelier. “It says, ‘I don’t fancy either of those overpaid packs of bawbags. I support Partick Thistle.
Real
football for
real
Glaswegians.’” She winged the notebook back to Zachary. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Did he pass?” I asked Logan.

He simmered. “Bastard probably always says the right thing.”

“Nope.” I noticed Zachary writing frantically. “Now what?”

He held up his notebook to face me:
I get to ask him one free question at the time of my choosing.

“What is this, the Supreme Court? Just ask.”

He circled
at the time of my choosing
.

“I’m bored,” Megan said. “Let’s spill some secrets.”

I launched into the first point before anyone could interrupt. “Zachary and I were born a minute apart. Right before and after the Shift.”

“Old news.” Megan bit her cookie. “You told me when you guys met. Tons of people are born every minute.”

“Not in our minutes. Zach and I were the only ones.”

“What happened to the other babies?” Logan glared at the dining room. “What did he do to them?”

“Nothing,” I snapped. “They were born earlier or later.”

“How do you know for sure?” Megan asked.

“The DMP told me.” It was true that they’d confirmed it, but I’d heard it first from Ian. I didn’t want to mention him if we didn’t have to. “They’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“Wait.” Her eyes and mouth went round. “If you were born right when the Shift happened, does that mean you caused it?”

“I don’t know what it means. But I think it gave Zachary this—thing he can do.” I waited for him to seize this last chance to back out, but he simply stared at the table in front of him, running his thumb over the corner of his notebook. “He makes ghosts disappear.”

“Mr. Red,” Logan murmured.

“What did you call him?” Megan asked.

Zachary stiffened. “What did he call me?”

“Ow!” Logan covered his ears. “Tell him to shut up.”

“Please don’t speak,” I reminded Zachary. “He called you Mr. Red, because to him, you look like you’re wearing a Santa suit.”

Logan snorted. “More like Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Wild,” Megan said. “So, Aura, if Zach has this power for being the Last, what do you get for being the First?”

“She cures shades,” Logan replied. “And she brought me back to life.”

Megan’s hand halted with the cookie halfway to her mouth. “When you say ‘back to life’—”

I explained. “For about fifteen minutes on the equinox, Logan was human again. He was alive.”

She shook her head vigorously, a pair of tiny auburn braids sweeping her cheeks. “That’s not even remotely possible.”

“It happened,” Logan said.

“And then what?” She looked between the two of us. “Oh my God.”

“No, not
that
,” I said. “Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time, anyway.”

She and Zachary burst out laughing.

Logan squeezed his fists beside his head at the sound. “What’s so funny?”

Zachary smirked as he scribbled, then showed me his notebook:
15 mins = > enough time. Trust me.

I wondered how many times he’d done it with Suzanne in their eight months, three weeks, and a day and a half. Probably a lot, if fifteen minutes was more than enough time.

I quickly changed the subject (sort of). “Zachary’s and my powers are sort of … fluid.” I winced at my choice of words, since it was exchanging fluids that made it happen.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked.

I twisted my hands together, unintentionally making a reverse spider-swear. “When we, um—sometimes I can scare off ghosts. And he says he can see them.”

“When?” Megan said. “Is this another equinox thing?”

“No, it’s—” I kept my eyes away from Zachary. “It’s a kissing thing.”

“What?” Logan leaped up from the couch. “You mean the other night, I couldn’t be with you in the car because you’d been hooking up with him?”

“Get over yourself!” Megan told him. “Did you expect her to join a convent?”

“This isn’t regular kissing,” Logan said to me. “He’s turning you red.”

I felt myself blush, as if to prove his point. I touched the banister behind me, to steady myself if Logan got shady.

“Is that what you want?” he asked me. “For him to change what you are?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, because it’s over.”

Megan turned to Zachary. “That’s why you broke up with her? She said it was complicated.”

“Aura?” Logan spoke in a low, almost threatening voice. “Did you kiss him on your birthday? Did you make me shade?”

“Whoa, what?” Megan’s hands formed a time-out T. “Logan shaded on your birthday?” She looked at Zachary. “Did you know about this?”

He nodded, then met my eyes long enough for my memory to lock on to that night.

I turned back to Megan. “Remember when I fell off my porch roof and Logan woke you up so you could get Gina?”

“Yeah.”

“I fell because he shaded.”

Megan looked at him. “But Logan was a ghost when I saw him that night. How’d he make it back from shade?”

“I was so scared I had hurt her.” Logan shook his head at the floor, passing his foot through the leg of the coffee table. “I didn’t care about myself anymore.”

“Awww,” she said.

Zachary tapped the corner of his notebook on the table to get Megan’s attention, then spread his hands.

She told him, “Logan says he came back from shade for Aura.”

“Tell Zachary that seeing Aura fall made me forget myself.” Logan stepped as close as he could, keeping his gaze on me. “Tell him it made me forget everything except how much I love her.”

Megan quietly recited Logan’s words. Zachary’s mouth opened, then shut. He wiped his face and picked up his pen. With his elbow on the table, he shielded his eyes as he touched the ballpoint’s tip to the blank page. It trembled, but didn’t move. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

Finally he set down the pen, resting his fingers on the barrel as if it were the trigger of a gun.

“What did he write?” Logan snarled. “What can he say to that?”

“Nothing.” I closed my eyes, the hurt seeping down the sides of my neck into my chest. “Nothing at all.”

“That’s because he’ll never love you like I do.”

“Logan says—”

I stopped Megan. “Please. Don’t.”

She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, Aura, but you know it’s wrong to censor ghosts.” Megan turned to Zachary. “You’ll never love her like he does.”

Zachary’s face went stony, even as his green eyes filled with fire. He swiped a hand across his empty page, then began to write, gripping the pen so hard, the creases of his knuckles turned red.

“What’s he saying?” Logan asked.

Megan sidled around the table to read over Zachary’s shoulder. “Uh-oh.”

He clicked off his pen and sat back in his seat, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“‘For my free question.’” Megan took a deep breath. “‘Do you love her enough to let her go?’”

I turned to Logan, expecting an instant “Yes.” He’d already told me as much—not in so many words, but in his plans to pass on and his agreement to be my friend.

Yet Logan was struck silent. A cold snake slithered up my spine. I’d never asked him the question so directly, never forced him to search his soul for the strength to release me.

“Logan?” I whispered.

“That’s not a fair question.” He began to pace. “How am I supposed to answer that?”

“You can’t lie,” Megan said, “so you give the only answer that’ll come out.”

“I can’t.” He put his hands to his head, gripping the once-blond spikes. “Don’t make me say it.”