Shattered Promises

Page 18

Somebody kill me and put me out of my misery. It hurts like hell, but I know if I move, it’ll only increase the pain. “Jesus, that hurts.” I breathe through gritted teeth as I stab my fingernails into the leather fabric of the sofa. Tears fill my eyes and one slips down my cheek as I pant violently. “So bad.”
“Sorry,” he apologizes before making another stitch. He kneels back and gives me a moment to catch my breath. “You gonna make it?”
I bob my head up and down and look at him through my watery vision. “Yeah, go on. And start talking to me. It’ll distract me.”
He sketches his finger down my cheek and wipes away a tear. He rubs his finger and thumb together as he stares at the teardrop, then his face twists with bewilderment.
“It’s just a tear,” I remark, equally as bewildered.
He nods and wipes his hand on his jeans. “I know.” He applies another stitch, weaving through my skin and it shoots the pain through all of my limbs. “Do you remember that fallen star story Professor Sterling told, the day I finally decided to sit by you in class.”
“The one where you teased me about going on a road trip?” I attempt to smile, but it’s too much work.
He doesn’t seem amused as he twines the needle through my skin again and the he positions his other hand on my stomach. All of my attentiveness channels to his fingers. On my skin. My eyelids flutter as my body bows up. The warmth. The hum. It even numbs out the pain a little. I want him to move them across my body, touch me in places I’ve never been touched before.
“Gemma?” His hoarse voice brings me back to reality.
I blink dazedly at him and realize I’ve bowed my body up against his hand. “Huh?”
He stares down at me with his forehead creased, then his neck twitches and he clears his throat. “Did you hear what I said?”
I lower my body, shake my head, and admit, “Umm… no.”
He presses on my stomach and directs my untamed body back down. “I asked if you remembered the secret group that hid the star.”
My brain is hazy and I can’t form intelligible thoughts. “Yeah… I remember the story vaguely, but I have no idea why you’re bringing up something we talked about in Astronomy class. It was just a story.”
He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. It was based on fact, although, Professor Sterling didn’t know that. In fact, he didn’t know a lot about what he was talking about that day.”
“You make it sound like he was possessed.”
“Because he was.”
I can’t take it anymore. I prop up on my elbows, causing us to smack heads. “By what, a ghost?” I press the heel of my hand to my throbbing head.
He rubs the spot on his forehead where mine smacked. “Not a ghost… a mirage.”
“You mean, there’s another Professor Sterling?” I gape at him unfathomably. “Like there’s another you?”
“Neither one is actually us.” He places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a gentle push back to lie down. “Now lie back down so I can finish the stitch. You’re already going to have a wicked scar. Let’s not make it worse.”
I lie back on the couch, rest my head on the pillow and put my arms to the side of me. “If they aren’t you, then what are they?”
He pauses. “Foreseers.”
I fold my shirt up a little more because blood is starting to seep out of the wound again. “Like psychics?”
He frowns. “You know what Foreseers are?”
My shoulders rise and fall as I shrug. “I read about it once. They can see into the future or something.”
“That definition is really vague,” he says. “There’s a lot more to them than seeing the future. They can create images that aren’t real—make people see things that aren’t real. It’s kind of like a game to some of them.”
I gulp, taking it all in. “You think one’s been messing with me?”
He nods. “I do, ever since Professor Sterling showed up and wasn’t quite himself.”
I rewind through everything that’s happened and remember how that day Alex had been particularly nice to me. “Is that why you did it? Why you were being nice and asked me to go on a road trip with you.”
He twists the lid onto the rubbing alcohol. “No, that’s not why. I’m not even supposed to be nice to you.” He makes an oh-shit face as he says it.
I pierce him with a stern look. “Why?”
“I’m getting to that.” He moves closer to me. “You remember how he mentioned there was a power hungry group that might have hid the star.”
“He didn’t say group,” I clarify. “He said person.”
“Well he should have said group.” He quickly makes another stitch. It happens so fast, my body barely registers the pain. “The secret group is called Custodis de Vita.”
“The Custodis what?” I begin to sit up again out of instinct and he puts his hand on my waist to restrain me.
“The Custodis de Vita,” he repeats as his fingers enfold around my skin. I want him to move them lower and see how it feels. I seriously have a screwed up head. “It’s a secret group that’s not necessarily power hungry, but doesn’t want power to fall into the wrong hands.”
It’s too hard to focus on what he’s saying while he touches me. I lift his hand off my stomach and breathe freely. “So much better.”
He glances at his hand inquisitively and returns his line of gaze back to me. “Care to share what that was about?”
“What is that word? Like Latin or something?” I evade the question.
He stares at me intensely with his head slanted down. It blocks out the light and his pupils are massive, taking over his eyes. “Yeah, it means Keepers of Life, but for short, we call ourselves The Keepers.”
“Keepers of Life.” The words feel foul leaving my lips. “It sounds like a cult.”
A chuckle flees his mouth. “It’s not, though. We actually protect the world from dangerous things.”
“We?” I study his expression; unyielding and full of truth. “So you belong to this Keepers group?”
“And Aislin. And…” He covers his mouth with his hand and coughs into it. “Marco and Sophia.”
I lay inert, letting his words sink into my body, like a disease. The dots are starting to connect and images of things I’ve never remembered before stab unruly at the back of my mind; Sophia sharpening a sword, Marco talking on the phone about a battle.
“So, what you’re telling me is that Marco and Sophia, the people who’ve raised me since I was one, belong to some secret group that protects the world from evil?” It sounds unbelievable, just like every other damn aspect of my life. Saving the world from evil and demons and vampires… God, what if there really are vampires? “And that you know them?”
He doesn’t answer, but through his silence, I have my answer. It’s like a piece of the puzzle has been jammed into place. “Holy shit, you were there that day, weren’t you? That day I went to get my boxes.” I start to sit up, but I feel pain from the stitches and I immediately fall back. “You were that guy in those sunglasses, the one who wouldn’t talk to me.”
The quietness stretches on forever. I can’t believe this—I shouldn’t believe it. Yet, I do, which only makes the situation more of a maze.
“What are you thinking about?” He applies another stitch through the cut and cocks his head to the side, measuring me up with a powerful gaze that melts at my thoughts.
“That you’re lying,” I say quietly. “That you’re full of shit and messing with my head.”
“That’s completely understandable,” he admits. “I get it. I really do. But, it’s the truth, despite the fact that it sounds absurd.” The needle snags my skin and my hand instinctively flies toward the pain. Alex grabs my hand before I get ahold of the stitches. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it,” he cautions and I can feel his pulse hammering through his fingertips. He’s nervous. Or scared. And I’m … I don’t know, because there isn’t anything there yet. Confused, yes, but, other than that, I haven’t linked to an emotion yet.
I pull my hand away from his as distrust claims my body. “Why hasn’t anyone mentioned this to me before? All those years I lived with Marco and Sophia—those weeks I knew you—why not just say something?"
“You think we could just come up to you and say ‘Hey, I work for this secret group that fights evil?’ Yeah, that goes over really well with people.”
“You could have said something… less intense, but something like ‘Hey, I have a secret life you might not want to know about.’”
His eyes are heated. “Would you have wanted to know about it though? If I’d said something like that to you."
“Yes,” I say without contemplation, which more or less means it’s the truth. “I don’t like being in the dark about stuff.”
“Easier said than done,” he mumbles and then lets out a discouraged sigh as the needle snakes through my skin. “But back to the story because it really will explain a lot more for you.” He pauses and I wait, pondering where the hell he’s going with this. He takes a deep breath and concentrates on his hand as he makes yet another stitch. “That star I was telling you about had a lot of power. That’s why we… the Keepers, went and got it in the first place. If it fell into the wrong hands, then…” He trails off.
"Then what?” I press. I feel it coming, the calm before the storm. Whatever he is going to say will break me apart and I’ll be left stitching myself back together.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let me try this again. Those Foreseers I was talking about, well one of them made a prediction that a fallen star was going to prevent the end of the world from happening.” He picks up the scissors and trims the end of the string off.
The stab at the back of my neck is dull, but detectable. “The end of the world.”
He chucks the scissors back into the kit, takes out a roll of tape and some gauze. “When I say ‘end of the world,’ what I mean is there’s this portal that’s supposed to open sometime… although, no one knows exactly when.”
I stare expressionlessly at him. “A portal? Like a deep hole will open up and swallow up the world? Or, all hell will rain down? Or, zombies will walk out and take over the world?”
“You don’t believe me.” He arranges the gauze over the stitches and secures it with tape. Then he puts everything back in the kit and shuts the lid. “I’m all done with the stitches, so you can sit up if you want. Just be careful, though. If you move too fast, you might rip them open.”
I tug my shirt down and gradually sit up. My side feels strangely tight and my head is full of thoughtless nonsense.
Alex sits down on the sofa next to me, drapes an arm behind my head and relaxes his knee against mine. A spasm of heat coils up my inner thigh and my knee jerks upward.