Tainted Energy (The Energy Series Book 1) (11 page)

His eyes
hardened, the smile turning a little dangerous. "No, I'm just really good
at staying alive."

"So
what are we talking, hundreds of years?"

With a
slight nod, he inspected his palms. "The life cycles of Guides and
Protectors last longer than most, except Wardens. We reach maturity faster,
too, if we choose to come back and serve. Exemplians have, ah, mastered
science, I guess. We've found all kinds of ways to keep the body going."
He shrugged. "That's why many of our kind choose retirement after two or
three cycles, they last so long."

"But
not me? I never chose to retire?"

He shrugged
before pushing up from his chair and walked a few feet to a cluster of pines. "Nor
had I. As long as I knew you were waiting."

Shyness
washed over me. I stumbled over the rocks to the edge of the stream, hoping the
breeze would cool my cheeks before facing him again. "So, what about my
name? It seems I managed to get the same one in this cycle."

"I
hadn't even thought about it. Lena's always been your name."

I told
him the story about my birth, which made his dimples pop out again. "Sounds
like Wilma had a hand in it."

"Oh,
right." I kicked the rocks. "Tarek?"

"Yeah?"

"What
if he pulls me in again?"

He came
up behind me, and I had to fight the urge to lean against his chest. "He won't
get another chance."

Lena

"
S
o, I was a bitch. Is that what you're
trying not to say?" I threw a few twigs his way.

Laughing,
he swatted at them with an exaggerated dodge.

We sat
in the lawn chairs, around a fire Tarek built with sticks–yes, sticks. He even
managed to make a snare, catch a rabbit, and fashion a spit over the coals. Christ,
the guy was a regular Davey Crocket–a pretty hot, leather-wearing Davey
Crocket.

"No,
no, that's not what I'm saying. You were, ah, assertive," he said.

"Assertive?
Ha! Nice one." I poked a stick in the fire, my stomach begging for the
rabbit.

I had no
idea how long we sat there talking. He talked about his dimension, the need to
stay out of the natural cycle of my life, the fact that Casimir might already
have a Protector's energy. I told him about my parents, the chance for a
scholarship, never mentioning Zander...

After I
told him about this morning and Dad's obsessive need to get the house in order,
Tarek stayed silent. Contemplation lightened his eyes while he kept his face
composed.

I
jumped, dropping my stick, when he decided to give his insight. "Your
energy needs to be weakened for anything besides an active Protector to pull
you into another dimension. The energy Casimir has seems pretty weak,
considering the way you punched through the lines, and if your home is as
tumultuous as you say…"

"It
is."

"Then
keeping you there is ideal. You need to be weaker than the energy pulling you
through. Sounds like whoever's helping him might be using persuasion to change
your parents' behavior. Only stronger Protectors have that kind of ability."

"Persuasion?"
Well, didn't that make things more complicated? "What should I do? I can't
kidnap my mom, force her to leave."

Blond
brow raised, he said, "Sure we can."

"But
didn't you say you weren't allowed to interfere?"

He
grinned. God, those dimples turned my brain into a puddle. "I think we
could consider this a...clear connection to whatever is going on."

I liked
the way he thought. "So, you'll help?"

After
checking the rabbit, he peeled off a piece and handed it over. "We need to
be certain, of course." He pulled off another piece and ate it, a smidgen
of grease rolling off his chin. "I'll talk to Wilma, get her advice."

The
rabbit actually tasted awesome. The meat, so juicy and sweet, melted in my
mouth. "Wilma seems to know a lot about what's right and wrong when it
comes to me," I said, licking my fingertips.

He blew
on another piece before sliding it between his lips. "Well, she should.
She's been your Protector for the past three cycles."

"Why
not you?"

Tarek
stayed silent for a moment and watched the crackling flames as he wiped greasy
hands on his thighs. He finally said, "Conflict of interest."

My damn
face caught on fire again. "Oh." I went to dab some glacial water on
my cheeks in an attempt to staunch the heat, pretending like I washed my hands.
"So she's another one who doesn't retire?"

His
voice echoed behind me. "She's been through more cycles on Exemplar than
anyone I've ever known. Wilma's probably one of the strongest of our kind."
He paused. I turned in time to see a myriad of emotions cross his face, from
rage to sadness. "She'd never leave you alone."

The idea
that Wilma sacrificed so much to protect me was hard to comprehend. I used to
wonder why she took such an interest in my life and not the others who lived
here. Now everything became clear. For some reason the woman loved me.
Hopefully, I'd find out why I deserved it.

∞ ∞ ∞

The
faint echo of the bus reached our little sanctuary. We'd spent the past seven
hours sitting in the woods, talking, laughing...arguing. Seriously, best day
ever. Being around him created electricity.

I
grabbed my backpack, really hating the whole having to go home thing. "We
need to clean this up. Visitors will be coming soon."

He
kicked out the flames and grabbed his pack too. "Where do we go now?"

"Well,
I go back home. You...you need to find a place to lay low until I can get away."

His chin
squared. "I'm not leaving you."

"You
can't come home with me." I stood on my toes to ruffle his silky hair. "They'll
never let me keep you."

"Funny."
He hiked his pack higher on his shoulder. "I'm coming."

"No."

"Yes."

"You
don't exactly blend."

"Trust
me."

Resigned,
I shrugged. "Why don't you stay at Wilma's? I'll sneak out tonight after
everyone goes to bed."

After a
full minute of scrutiny, he said, "Fine. But you'll show me which one of
those boxes you live in first." He stormed toward the park. "And if
you don't come to me, I'm coming to you."

Shaking
my head, I took the lead. "Whatever, just try not to scare the natives."

His
chuckle bounced through the trees.

∞ ∞ ∞

After
taking Tarek close enough to see my trailer, we made it to the mailboxes as the
bus pulled up. Unlike Wilma, who only heard insults and laughs, my blond giant
won drooling admiration from the girls and pissed-off looks from the boys. The
kid who tried hitting on me yesterday–and whose name I still couldn't remember–was
the only one brave enough to ask about him.

"He's...Wilma's
nephew," I said, noticing that got some of the boys' attention. Their faces
paled as they scurried toward their houses. "Yeah, I'd run away, too,
assholes."

Not one
of them came back with the typical insult or oinking noise.

Feeling
really good, and really petty at the same time, I glanced behind me only to get
a smirk from Tarek. "Um…long story. That's Wilma's place." I pointed
to her trailer. "Nice, right?"

He
nodded and climbed the steps to Wilma's front door.

I gave
what's-his-name a wave and followed. "So much for blending."

He
shrugged, shoving open the door easily enough, seeing that Wilma only bothered
to lock it when she went to work. After watching what she did to Tarek last
night, I realized why none of the pukes living around here scared her.

I showed
him around, waving a hand here and there. Wilma's place didn't have much to
offer, with its bare walls and beige furniture, but it was comfortable and
clean. She did have a thirty-two inch flat screen in the living room for movies
but had never hooked up the cable. Said it rotted the brain. Her bedroom
sported a queen-sized memory foam mattress, a plain oak dresser, and a
nightstand that always held a dog-eared book. The book du jour was Homer's
The
Iliad
.

I
flopped on the most comfortable bed ever and waved an arm around the room. "She's
got T-shirts in the dresser that'll probably fit you, but not much else. There's
food in the fridge, and if you can't figure out the stove or microwave let me
know tonight."

He stood
at the room's entryway, smiling. "Thanks."

I lifted
my chin. "Did I say something funny?"

He
looked at his boots and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing,
Lena. It's...I'll be fine. I've read my history books." The way he said
it, like I was an idiot, had my temper jumping.

"What
the hell does that mean?"

"It
means I understand how simple things are in dimensions like this one."

I slid
off the bed. "
How simp
–whatever, see you tonight."

"Wait,
why're you mad?" He wouldn't move.

"So
I'm
simple
?"

"No,
no, that's not what I'm saying. I–damn, I'm screwing up, aren't I?"

"A
little bit, now move. If I don't walk down the hill with the other rejects, Dad'll
be pissed."

"If
he hurts you..."

"You
can't do anything, remember?" I stomped to the door when he moved aside,
my fingers shaking.

He held
out his hands. "Look, I don't think you're simple. That's the last thought
that comes to mind when I think of you." Those big hands raked through his
hair. "And believe me, you're pretty much all I ever think about."

After a
few deep breaths, I opened the door. His face was desperate, but… "I don't
need you making me feel like a moron."

"I
didn't mean to make you feel like anything."

My anger
dissolved some.

Some.

"We'll
talk tonight. Maybe you can enlighten my simple mind and explain what you meant
about the whole history book thing."

His face
flushed. "That's
not
what I–I'm trying, okay?"

∞ ∞ ∞

When I
walked through the door, Mom sat in Dad's usual spot, smoking a cigarette.
There was no sign of him, which gave us a small window to talk. But her face,
empty and pale, reminded me of the same look Dad wore when he drank all day.

Dropping
my backpack by the door, I went to squat in front of her. "Mom? You okay?"

She took
a deep drag and blew it in my face. "You're a disobedient girl, Lena."

The
smoke didn't bother me. It wasn't the first time someone had blown the shit in
my face. But Mom's new attitude did–terrified me, honestly. "What's wrong
with you?"

"Didn't
go to school, did you?"

I stood
only to have her flat eyes follow. "I don't know what he did to you, but,"
I swallowed some of the panic, "this isn't you. Do you hear me?"

She
butted her cigarette in the dirty ashtray on her lap, never taking her eyes off
me. "Next time, I'll tell your father.
Do you
hear me
?"

"Mom,
please, listen–"

"No,
you listen!" She jumped up, pointing her finger in my face, the ashtray
spilling all over the soiled carpet. Her eyes, so green, so much like mine,
were now foreign. "Your father is getting this house in order, and you
will abide by his rules or face punishment."

Despite
the rage seeping from every pore, my voice grew soft. "You don't mean
that."

Her
voice took on the dips and flows of a television evangelist. "God spoke,
and He knows what we need."

My body
grew cold as my legs threatened to give. "Mom, stop." I licked my dry
lips, the smell of stale smoke on her breath turning my stomach. "God's
not talking to you. It's–"

She
smacked me, hard. My head whipped back, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

I held
my cheek.

Don't
be afraid…

Don't
be afr–

Shit.
Too late…

The
floors began to tremble and creak. I groped for Dad's chair to keep me on my
feet when the movement became stronger, rocking both of us as if we were
sailing.

Her eyes
finally came to life. "Oh, baby! I'm so sorry, I..." She pulled me
into her arms, and the floors grew quiet and still. "I don't know what's
going on."

My
shaking hand patted her back as every rational part of my brain begged to stay
strong and not crumble, the moving floor more of a reminder than anything. "You
have to fight it, Mom. Whatever it is, you have to fight. We need to leave."

She
hugged me tighter.

Their
bedroom door opened. "What's all the commotion?"

Mom's
arms went lax, and her body stiffened. I pulled away to see that dead look
invade her eyes again. "Mom?"

"I'm
having a talk with our daughter, Rick. Making her understand, is all."

Dad came
over, putting his arm around Mom's shoulder. "Well, that's good, honey. Real
good." The pride in his eyes had my stomach roiling. "Why don't you
go to your room now, peanut. We'll call ya when dinner's ready."