The Reader Page 12

  “Dark or light?”

  “After the sun sets, there’s a bright, vibrant blue that’s right above the other shades. It’s rare, stunning. When I see that color, it’s hard for me to look away.”

  We sat a few feet apart, his eyes locked on mine. He moved toward me, but snapped back and grabbed the oars. “The others are waiting for us. I don’t want them to worry.”

  “My last question.” With my heart thumping erratically, I asked what I really needed to know. “Do you feel anything unusual when we touch?” There, I asked. No going back.

  His eyes darted away, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, no. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Confirmation. I was a Devon Groupie. How embarrassing.

  “Just checking.” Blood rushed to my face, and tears filled my eyes. Please, God, don’t let them escape.

  “Even if I were to feel anything . . . unusual, it wouldn’t be a good idea to explore it, not right now anyway.”

  Blinking, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “As soon as the Soul Mates connect, the war will be immediate.” He shook his head. “We’re not ready.”

  My eyes blinked one too many times. A big, fat tear rolled down my cheek.

  He swiped it with his thumb and drew back, wincing before he put his hand under his armpit and bent over.

  “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  His eyes squeezed shut. He stuttered out, “Yes . . . yes, give me a second. I have a cramp in my hand.” He straightened and shook his hand out, still in obvious pain.

  “Are we close to the compound? Doc has ice packs you can put on it.”

  “Yes, we’re here.” He stood up and leaned over, making the raft list. Startled by the motion, I stumbled on the rope and went right over the side.

  Freezing cold water hit me, like glaciers-in-Alaska freezing. Or, that would be my best guess since I was pretty certain I’d never been dropped into a glacier or river before. Oh, the burning. I surfaced and drew in a huge gulp of air, but I couldn’t move the rest of my body. Devon jumped from the raft, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me to the shore.

  “Ann, I’m so sorry. I’ve never done . . . I mean, I can’t believe that happened. Come with me. I have a blanket in the Jeep.”

  My legs were still stiff, but I was able to follow him up the path. With my body shivering, he guided me to another large shed tucked back into the woods. He unlocked the door, searched the back seat of the Jeep, retrieved a wool blanket, and tossed it to me. “That should do the trick.”

  “Did you do . . . did you tip the raft?” I held up a finger, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. “On purpose?”

  “No. Of course not. It just shifted a little. I just, I mean, I didn’t think you’d go over.”

  He’s lying.

  He felt me and my pain. But he’d rather dump me in the water than answer my questions. Why? Was it really the war he worried about, or was I—what did he call me? Infuriating. That’s right. I got into another Jeep and slammed the door shut. Fine. If he wanted distance, he’d get it.

  “Ann?”

  I turned away and didn’t answer.

  “Uh. If you give me the door handle, I can attach it later,” he said.

  I looked down, and, sure enough, clutched in my right hand was the chrome handle. My eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.”

  He smiled. “The Jeep is old. I’m sure it was loose.”

  Quit being nice. You’re making it worse.

  I placed the handle on the console between us and rubbed my hands in front of the heater. When we approached another guardhouse on the back of the property, my stomach dropped. “Oh, no. I didn’t get the guard in trouble for slipping past him, did I?”

  “No, not at all. Samara, unlike the complex in Colorado, isn’t a prison. Readers are free to leave anytime. He’s only stationed there to give us a heads-up in case the Jacks try to breach the entrance.”

  “Why haven’t I been given access to leave then? I haven’t been included in the drills either.”

  “Because of your amnesia. The Elders feared you might become emotional and take off—putting your life, and ours, at risk.” He glanced at me.

  “Got it.” I rubbed my forehead.

  “Don’t worry about it. No one is angry. Just concerned.”

  Devon entered the compound and parked the Jeep. Before I could figure out what to do with the door, Lucy opened it and flung herself at me, squealing, “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

  I patted her back. “You’re strangling me.”

  “Oh.” She pulled me from the Jeep to continue the hug. “It’s all my fault. I should have told you everything. All of our girl talks, and I kept things from you. If anything had happened . . .” She squeezed me tighter, her head on my shoulder. Tears—or was that snot?—leaked onto my shirt.

  “No, it’s my mistake. I’m so sorry I worried you.”

  She clung to me. “Okay. But I’m telling you everything now. I don’t care what the Elders say or think.” Her eyes pleaded with Devon. “Don’t tell.”

  “I’ve already told her all, so you don’t have to worry about any more slips.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Wow. Everything?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, the Elders want you at a meeting in an hour.”

  “Great.” He groaned. “That should be fun.”

  “You’re wet.” She looked back and forth between us. “Why are you both wet?”

  “We came down the river and had a little mishap.” I glanced at Devon, and he gave a little shrug.

  “Let’s get you inside and warm.” Lucy turned back to me, touching my shoulder-length hair. “It’s so pretty. I love the dark color. Now, I want to hear all the details. Tell me everything.”

  “Well, I stabbed and shot a man, another was hit in the head with a flashlight. I stole a car, well, a couple different cars. I robbed a store—”

  “Oh, stop! You’re so funny. Let’s get some pizza, and you can tell me what really happened.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I let her take my hand and lead me away from Devon.

  Two weeks later, and Devon still avoided me, making sure there were a good five feet between us at all times.

  Susie was a different story, though. She had her hands all over Devon and Archer. She’d embrace them to say hello, to say goodbye, when she was excited—any reason seemed to elicit affection from her. It didn’t have to be much either. Sushi for dinner warranted a round of hugs.

  For the most part, Susie kept her distance from me. She adopted a sympathetic air when I arrived back at Samara and was, oh, so sorry, about the newscast debacle at her birthday party. With wide eyes and hand over her heart, she proclaimed a false innocence, claiming to have no idea who could have done such a terrible thing. Of course, Archer and Devon were in attendance and ate it up. They assured her they’d find the culprit. I wanted to tell them the perpetrator stood right before them, but I didn’t have the evidence to prove my suspicions.

  “Come on.” Devon motioned with his head.

  “Who, me?” Alone in the Hub for a little quiet time before my next class, I was momentarily confused.

  “Anyone else sitting at your table?” A half-smirk and a raised eyebrow followed his question.

  I stuffed my books into my bag. Wait. I didn’t want to appear desperate for his company or anything. “I am rather busy.”

  “I can tell. Just get your things, and let’s get going.” He took a few steps away and turned back. I hadn’t moved yet. Crossed arms, a tapping foot, and an exasperated sigh followed.

  Ugh. “All right. What’s so important anyway?”

  “You liked the waterfalls, right?”

  “I loved the waterfalls. Are we going there?” Say yes.

  “No.”

  “Do I have to guess, or are you going to tell me?” Patience was not one of my virtues.

  “You won’t be able to guess. Hurry up or we’ll miss it.”

  With my bag
slung over my shoulder, I followed him out of the Hub. He walked at a quick pace, and I found myself run/walking to keep up with him. “Do you want me to come, or are you trying to ditch me?” I laughed.

  He tapped his watch. “We only have a few minutes.” His long legs slowed a little. After a few more turns, he said, “We’re here.”

  “Oh, I know where we are. This is the hot house and rainforest chamber. Lucy promised me a tour next week.”

  “Your tour has come early. We keep it locked, most of the time, careful to keep the temperature steady.” He put his hand against the pad. “I have a reservation. We’ll slip in quickly.”

  The door clicked open, and he motioned me in.

  I followed and stopped just inside the door. Gorgeous. Vibrant reds, yellows, purples, and greens burst from the dense foliage and lush plants that filled the space from floor to ceiling. The sweet scent of orchids—heavenly.

  “Hey, who painted that?” I pointed to a mural on the back wall. A dozen different flower species, plants, and wildlife covered the entire surface. The beauty of it was more like an extension of the environment than a painting.

  “Oh, that. I did. Come on.”

  “Get out. You’re an artist?”

  “I paint a little.”

  “A little?” Impressed, I stared a little longer. “It’s so realistic. I feel like I’m in a different world.”

  “There’s more. Follow me.”

  We weaved past huge leaves partially blocking the small path leading to the back of the room.

  “Wow. It’s hot and humid in here.” I fanned my face. A little better, but my skin was already coated with moisture.

  “We keep it at eighty degrees with ninety percent humidity.”

  “That explains why I’m drenched already.” I laughed and pulled my t-shirt away from my body in an effort to cool myself off. Devon’s hair had started to curl, and tiny water droplets formed on his lashes.

  Nice.

  His fingers combed through his hair. “Where was I? Oh, right.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I don’t think you’ve experienced yet. I usually come alone, but I thought you might like to get in on the action.”

  Action? I took a step back, worried about a rainforest creature making an appearance. “Are there animals in here?”

  He shook his head. “Not that kind of action. A storm.”

  My rapid heartbeat slowed a little. “No jaguars or sloths ready to attack?”

  “No, you can relax.”

  “What do you mean when you say storm?”

  “It’s a simulated storm. Do you like rain and wind?”

  Hmm. “I hadn’t considered it. I’d guess, living in Seattle for so long, I either love or hate them.”

  “You’re about to find out. We collect rain and snow from the top of Samara and fill huge vats with the run-off. We take turns recycling some of it for a simulated storm inside the glass partition over there. It feels great; you’ll love it.” He pointed to a walled off area. “I get five minutes a month and I’m giving it to you.”

  “Why?”

  He paused and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’ve never really had a chance to say I’m sorry.”

  “For being a jerk?” Oops. “I mean, for being . . . difficult?”

  That rare smile of his made an appearance. So bright, it about knocked the wind out of me. I thought about looking away, but my eyes stayed locked on his instead. His smile slipped, and he stepped closer.

  “Not for that,” he said in a low voice.

  “Oh?” That’s all my brain could muster. With him close, my thoughts scattered.

  “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for everything that’s happened to you. Losing your parents, having your memory wiped, and being hunted by the Jacks. I know it can’t be easy.”

  Whoa. He understood. My feelings of loss and sadness started to surface, but other feelings—warmth and gratitude—took over. My throat constricted, and I was able to say, “Thanks.”

  He smiled again, and I considered taking the extra step and wrapping myself around him. How would he react? Before I could find out, he stepped back and asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!” But then I realized he was only referring to the storm. I’d need some rain and wind to douse my overactive imagination.

  “Great.” He pulled open a panel and pushed buttons. “A downpour with wind?” he asked.

  “Where does the wind come from?” I asked.

  He punched another button and two large doors opened mid-height on separate walls. Huge fans sat behind the panels. “All these plants produce an excess of oxygen. We use the fans to push the air into those vents.” He pointed to six large openings in the ceiling. “From there, it’s circulated throughout the compound.”

  “Cool.”

  “Let’s get started.”

  I glanced down at my outfit. Oh well, I guess a little more water wouldn’t hurt.

  He opened a closet and tossed me a raincoat.

  He was always a step ahead. I laughed and asked, “You sure you can’t read my mind?”

  “I wish,” he said under his breath. “You’re just easy to read. Not mind-read, but every expression that passes over your face is an open door to your thoughts.”

  That wasn’t good. I’d have to work on that. “Is that why you always win at poker night?”

  “Yep. You in for the storm?” A devilish grin spread across his face.

  “Okay.” I tried to act nonchalant, but I wanted to jump up and down with excitement.

  “Do you want a light rain shower or a full-fledged storm?”

  “Oh!” I gave a hop. So much for reining it in.

  “That’s what I thought. Storm?” He smirked.

  “Not a hurricane or anything. How about twenty miles per hour? That’s pretty windy isn’t it?”

  “Sure, thirty miles per hour it is.” He chuckled. “Grab the raincoat, stand in the middle, and I’ll close the doors.”

  “Are you sure you want to give up your turn?”

  “I’m sure.”

  My stomach dipped.

  Don’t read too much into it.

  I put on the raincoat and stood in the middle of the enclosed area. The click of the glass doors closing meant it would start soon. Devon had his back to me as he punched buttons inside the wall panel. A small amount of rain began to fall, splattering on the foliage and the top of my hood, the sound soothing. I took a deep, cleansing breath and enjoyed the sensation. I turned to Devon and mouthed “more” and he nodded. Almost at once, the rain went from a pitter patter to a downpour. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head to the ceiling and let the large water droplets plop onto my face, cooling me, but also setting loose a torrent of emotions. The stress of the past couple months seemed to melt away, like the water from my skin. I slipped off the raincoat and tossed it on a nearby bush, wanting to soak in every drop. I’d never felt so alive. I stretched out my arms and laughed. The wind picked up, and my wet hair whipped against my face. Exhilaration and happiness flooded through me.

  I’d almost forgotten about Devon until I heard, Damn, this is torture.

  I turned to face him. He stood on the other side of the glass with his head tilted wearing a strange expression.

  I mouthed, “What?”

  The rain and wind immediately stopped. Five minutes had gone fast. Devon walked back into the room with a towel and said, “I guess that clears up the mystery of whether you like wind or rain.”

  I shook off his confusing thought and odd expression. “I loved it. When can I do it again?”

  “Did you hear the news?” Lucy’s eyebrows wagged up and down. She sat next to me at our usual table at the Hub. Devon and Archer perked up.

  “What news?”

  “Markus is coming back tomorrow.” She giggled.

  Devon gave her a double-take. “Are you sure? I heard he’d be gone until next week.”

  “The rumor mill says he’s excited to get back to meet someone.” She
grinned at me.

  “What the—He can’t come waltzing back here, acting like he’s the prince.” Archer’s scowl matched Devon’s glower.

  “They’re jealous,” Lucy whispered in my ear.

  Well, good.

  “Come on, Devon. We have to help Doc with surgery.” Archer pulled his arm. Devon hesitated, but got up from his chair. He narrowed his eyes at Lucy, while Archer coaxed him out the door.

  “Things always liven up when Markus gets back from one of his trips. He has lots of energy.” Lucy smiled and winked.

  “What do you mean by energy?”

  She lowered her voice. “He loves women. I mean, really loves them.”

  Ahh. “He’s a player?”

  “Big time.”

  “Why didn’t you mention this before? I don’t know, maybe a warning or something.”

  “For you? No, you’d never fall for someone like him. He has a harem of around twenty that follow him around.”

  “Archer and Devon also have women making excuses to get near them. Of course, Susie is the worst, but we can’t go anywhere without fifty sets of eyes on us.”

  “Archer and Devon don’t entertain them like Markus does.”

  “Oh.” That wasn’t good.

  “Yeah. The Elders have talked to Markus about it. I think even Devon’s had words with him. But he hasn’t changed. To be honest, I don’t think the women care about his habits. They want to spend time with him, however brief.”

  I chuckled. “You can leave me off that list.”

  “It’s different with the new Readers, though.”

  “How so?”

  “A few of them were so desperate to be his match, they were like—you know the children’s story of Cinderella?”

  “Yes. I have it in my bookshelf. The one with the evil stepmother?”

  She laughed. “Yes, but the new Readers were more like the stepsisters trying to wedge their foot into the glass slipper. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they applied electrodes to him to spark a connection.”

  I giggled. “That bad?”

  “Yes. After the obligatory kiss, the women would fawn all over him, professing their connection and undying love. He’d just shrug and say, ‘Nope. Don’t feel anything.’ There’ve been many tears.”