Later, I came downstairs and flopped down on the couch. With one arm over my stomach, I placed the other behind my head for support as I stared up at the ceiling, lost in thinking about my day so far.
First, there was the cry for help. Secondly, I got attacked by a strange creature and got saved by a mysterious girl. Thirdly, I heard a voice that shouldn't have been there. And of course, fourthly, I had a crazy dream. Out of all of it, I was glad I didn't get grounded in the end. However, what I didn't expect was to get a new phone. Was it me or was this all becoming a bit foreboding?
And speaking of the crazy dreams, I tried my hardest to expel the images from my mind's eye, but the poor girl's lifeless face was etched into my retinas and embedded in my memory. Every time it flashed in front of me, I became slightly disoriented and nauseous. I hated my eidetic memory. Sure, it made it easier to remember clues and gather and recall any information I picked up through my five senses, but it was far from being a gift. With my dreams—visions—whatever the hell they were anymore—it made remembering faces like a photocopier and made the details of the dream more vivid and lucid.
Just when the afterimage disappeared, the news article flashed in my mind. Why wouldn't my mind shut up? It appeared in front of me almost as if I could reach out and touch it. Rereading over it, I got the distinct feeling something in the report was missing. I also had this strong overwhelming need to help solve this unexplainable death. Why was I looking to get involved in stuff like this again? Why could I believe she just had enough with life and suicide herself to death?
It was like I was being called, almost like someone was beckoning me. There was something fishy about this whole thing. A new gulf of fear crashed into me and sank deep into the core of my heart. But, and here's the weirder part, it wasn't my own fear. It was someone else's. Was someone implanting these cryptic thoughts and emotions into me? If so, who was doing it? Was it the voice again?
I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. There was no point in dwelling on the issue at the moment. There's where my problem lied in the first place. I couldn't stop myself. The guilt and hurt were preventing me from thinking straight. I didn't want to dwell on this anymore! I didn't want to feel like this again! I just wanted to go back to the way things were.
After glancing up at the clock, I'd realized I'd been down here for over an hour now. A while ago I'd woken up from the best sleep I've had in days. It was so pleasant and peaceful I didn't want to wake up. Though, I admit it was also strange. I expected dreams after reading the news article. However, I'm grateful nonetheless. And, of course, Zoe had kept to her word. She did in fact come and check on me. And what woke me up was the feel of her soft hand against my forehead. She had asked how I felt and I told her I felt immensely better. She had smiled and said my fever was gone. I was glad because I didn't want to go the hospital. Let's just put it this way, me and hospitals didn't go good together. Trust me on this one.
Just lying here in absolute quietness, there was something missing. Then it hit me. Mack and Zoe weren't here. They had left an hour ago. Neither of them informed me on where they were going, not like it's my business anyway, and only telling me they would be gone for a few days. It wasn't the first time I'd be staying alone in the house. This was a common experience. It usually happened every week or so. In the end, they would come back in two or five days.
Before I came out of my bedroom earlier, I plugged in my laptop so it could charge. Also I sent my friends my new number which I got from Zoe's address planner which she had gotten when I was at school. She was a bit old school, I guess, but I also felt she was cautious. I wished I could send emails, but unfortunately, even though I had my laptop, Symon blocked all email and social media sites, and so I couldn't contact anybody. He didn't want anyone discovering my location. It was his way of protecting me.
The first text I received was from Skye. She declared in joy and assertively asked me what took me so long in getting a phone in the first place. What could I say?
I had nothing. So, instead, we didn't get to text long before she had to get back to her cousin's baby shower decorations and party. She told me they were just starting to cut the cake.
I pulled out my phone and checked my message. I still hadn't heard a word from Bryce or Sara. Was something wrong? Should I be concerned?
A loud roar of thunder startled me. I took in a shaky breath through my mouth and struggled to relax. Something was keeping me on edge. I didn't know what it was, but it felt wrong. Yeah, right, I was just overly paranoid. The ringing in my eardrums was starting to agitate me to death and the light tingle in the back of my mind was driving me to the brink insanity.
I shook my head. I had to stop thinking about this. And to get my mind off of all these overwhelming thoughts, I decided to watch something on the television. When I went to grab the remote, I halted. My hand hovered above the little black controller. My innermost sense alerted me. Something or rather someone was approaching. It's wasn't anything obvious like the sound of clonking footsteps or the sound of any afternoon critters signaling. The only sounds around me was the sound of the loud swooshing rain as it drummed against the roof and the sound of my own erratic breathing.
A spark of dread tightened in my chest. Did this mean I had all my abilities back? Or was this just a one-time thing? A part of me was hoping they weren't back because when I did have them I felt closed off, more so than I am now. Back when I had my powers I felt like the world was weighing on my shoulders. No, I couldn't go through the pain and loss I felt all those years ago. But as I contemplated my feelings, there was another part of me was hopefully expecting them to come back. Yet, I don't know why...
My thought was abruptly cut off when out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a swift flash of movement. In a rapid effort, I shifted my head and glanced at the window. Even though the curtains were pulled back, I still saw a large shadowy figure float by.
Panicked, I shot up from the couch and dashed out the door. It was a stupid move, but it was just a natural reaction for me because I wanted to find out what it was. I guess I inherited my dad's instinct to discover what was happening as well as wanting to help.
But just looking around, I noticed something. There was no one out here. Figured. Maybe it was the storm causing my sense to be alert and heightened. Maybe, just maybe it had nothing to do with anything supernatural.
I laughed at myself for getting so worked up over nothing. Just when I turned around to head back inside, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy hand creeping out of the darkness. Before it had the chance to touch me, I whirled around and grabbed a hold of the calloused hand of the stranger and bent it behind the intruder's back.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
The stranger chuckled. "I see your survival instincts are still intact." The stranger's baritone, candid voice sounded so awfully familiar. I knew it, but from where?
Then it dawned on me.
"Symon, is that you?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah, it's me, kiddo," he said, sounding strained. "Since you know it's me now, would you mind letting go of me?"
Guilt punched me and I released his arm. "Well, if you hadn't come out of the darkness like a robber, I wouldn't have done it the first place!" I shouted, exasperated. "God, why'd you sneak up behind me anyway? You scared the hell out of me, jerk!"
He rotated his shoulder a couple of times before he surrendered his hands. "Whoa, hold up. No need for the angry name calling," he said with a pleasing smile. "I was just testing you. And I'm proud to say, you've passed."
"A test," I jeered. "You must be joking? I thought you'd be done with these silly little games of yours?"
"Right," he sneered. "Just like you wouldn't come out here searching for danger?"
"Touché," I said.
He smiled, satisfied. "Besides, I can't go letting you get rusty now can I? It seems to me like you forgot about how I'll never allow you to lower your guard."
I folded my arms over my chest. "I knew it. You did do this on purpose. I should've have figured. You have been drilling and reminding me to stay on guard. But what do you say we get down to real business? I know for a fact you didn't come all this way just to test me, did you? And while I'm on the subject, just what are you doing here to begin with?" I put my thumb and forefinger under my chin. "Do not tell me. Let me guess, you got the necessary paperwork straightened out?"
He shook his head. "Not yet I'm afraid, but I'm still working on it. Don't worry though; I'll have it finished by the end of the month. I know how you feel about your current situation, but this is the safest way to keep you out of harm's way."
"So you've told me," I sighed.
Symon didn't bother to comment with one of his sarcastic remarks. Instead, he just stared at me with an irritated crease in his pale forehead.
He's the same as always. Always hiding secrets, always protecting me from a danger I knew nothing about. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering this was Symon Lazar I was talking about. He was my most trustworthy friend, caseworker, and above all he was the man I looked up to as a surrogate father. In the past couple of months, he hadn't changed at all. Literally. He still wore the same old, stone hard expression on his face and still had the same pallor complexion and thick, curly black hair he always gelled up giving his bangs a bit of a spiked look, and those same vibrant, almost glowing blue eyes could also peer inside your soul and reveal all your deepest and darkest secrets hidden within, and he had a clean shaven face. He was also wearing his famous gray suit which meant told me he was here on business. So, this visit wasn't a social call.
Even though I was fifteen, I was already 5'8''. I was only a two inches shorter than Symon, but at least I no longer had to look up at him.
Soon, the flowing silence became too much for me.
"Uh, Symon," I said, gathering his attention. "What are you doing here?"
"Can we take this conversation inside?"
"Sure."
Since Symon's a vampire he couldn't step foot inside unless he's invited in. It was another reason I trust him. Not because of the vampire thing, I could live without him being one of those vulgar creatures, but the real reason I trusted him so much was because he's different, my kind of different. When I was thirteen Symon found me and saved my life as well as protected me. It happened just after my father's murder. I found an abandoned barn and a rabid, fledging vampire attacked me. If Symon hadn't been there, I wouldn't be where I am today. I owned him so much.
It wasn't until afterwards I became aware of Symon being a caseworker for children, although, his affiliation with children didn't mean all of them. He only dealt with special individuals. My case, for example: I lost my father to a murderous blackness (I couldn't begin to describe in detail) and was left on my own. When Symon found me, I'd been lost and needing a home. Since his connection with people was phenomenal, he case filed me and put me into the foster home system. He told me once he would adopt me, but considering he has his own family to run, he needed to keep me out of the vampire business since I'm not a vampire. It was also during this time, I found out he wasn't like the other vampires I met. Doing research in his grand old library, I learned he's what olden folks referred to as a "Pure-blood".
Pure-blooded vampires didn't have to get bitten to become a vampire. They're born as one. However, they're not your typical full-fledged vampire though; they're a half-breed. How this abnormality was created was from a deal made by dark witchcraft. All I know, and this coming from a book of myths and legends I read, was sometime around the eighteenth century or so a vampire had a made a deal with a witch to reproduce a vampire through means of a human. However, since dark magic was involved in helping create this oddity it didn't come without a cosmic consequence. So, now, if a vampire got with a human woman to produce a vampire child, not only were they extremely rare (only one in every one thousand vampires could reproduce a pure-blooded offspring) but the human woman would either die from sexual activity or she would end up dying from child birth.
Because Symon's only half a vampire, he didn't have all vampire supernatural qualities. He had all of the physical attributions such as: pale skin, fangs, and glowing eyes. With Pure-bloods, their supernatural attributions were not only weakened, but were also limited. For starters: Pure-blood couldn't run as fast a normal vampire, nor are they as strong, and their healing factor was a tad bit slower. Despite his heritage, Symon had other strange characteristics. One of them was his eyes. Instead of yellow or gold, Pure-bloods had blue eyes. Also among their incongruousness they had mental capabilities far beyond a human's mind. For example: Pure-bloods had psychic aptitudes such as: telekinesis. Another aspect which made Symon different from others was the fact he didn't have to drink blood every so often. He only had to drink twice a week. And if needed blood, animal blood would satisfy him. However, if he wanted to, he could also consume human food.
After welcoming him in, I shut the door. The two of us settled down on the couch. Symon turned his head towards me and said, "My reason for this visit," he paused. "I wanted to drop by and check to see how you were holding up."
I sank back into the cushions, distressed. "So, you know?"
He stared at me, disappointed. "Of course I do! If you haven't forgotten I always keep tabs on you. It's my job after all. But ever since the incident at the academy, I've kept a closer locale on what you've been up to. I know exactly what happened there and I knew today would affect you severely. So, I had to ensure you were all right. You're like a son I've never had, Mitch."
I glared at him. "I should've known. Did you put a tracking device on me or something?"
Symon rolled his eyes, exasperated and shook his head. "I did nothing of the sort. However, since you mentioned it, maybe I should have. At least, if I had, I could keep an eye on you to make sure you weren't getting into any kinds of trouble twenty-four seven."
My glare deepened with anger. "If you ever do something so imprudent, I won't be afraid to stake you with a wooden stake by my own two hands." A thought my mind and I crossed my arms, smirking. "Or maybe I should just get Jonas to take care of your stubbornness. I'm sure he's just itching to pick a fight."
He scorned. "Well, it's good to see you still have a sense of humor. It been, what, four months since we last saw one another? I'm glad to see you're healthy. But, how are you holding up? And don't give me that I'm fine reassurance. You know it doesn't work on me." I'd hoped he'd drop the subject. Did he have to bring this up?
"I won't lie, it's hard most days," I said after a long pause. "Other times it's a bit unbelievable. However, there are also all of those responsibilities gnawing at me. But otherwise, I'm...getting by. I swear."
His frown deepened. "Mitch, you don't have to feel guilty for what transpired. It wasn't your fault. You know as well as I do. Bad things tend to just happen. In the end, we all do our best to make sure nothing grave occurs but we can't predict every future movement. Not even you."
"Your right," I sighed. "But Tommy's death is only part of the reason you're here, isn't it?" I changed the subject.
Symon shook his head. The expression on his face molded, telling me he wasn't happy about me avoiding the subject. I didn't care though. I wasn't in the mood. Soon, his frown lifted slightly. "You're as sharp as ever, I see." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You see, I also came by seeking your help with something."
"First, why do you need my help? And second, what do you need my help with?" Even I didn't miss the genuine concern in my harsh tone. I was worried at seeing the troublesome look on Symon's face and the disturbing glaze in his eyes had me fretting. Presentiment twisted my gut as I gazed deeper into his blank blue eyed stare and saw my own reflection mirroring back at me. I closed my eyes briefly as understanding sank in and I frowned. "You have got to be kidding me," I said. "No, I am not getting involved in this crap again. I told you before I was done. And besides, you know I can't."
He arched an eyebrow. "This is because you no longer have your abilities, isn't it?"
Symon was one of few folks who knew of my supposed gift. When I first told him about it, I was hesitant because I didn't know how he'd react. My first instinct didn't want to tell him because I was certain if I shared my ability with him he'd dismiss it. Turned out, my intuition was wrong. He didn't dismiss it at all. In fact, what surprised me the most was the fact he didn't call me a freak. And after revealing my biggest secret, Symon revealed his. Then after Tommy's demise, Symon helped me cope with the loss and guilt. And when I notified him about losing my powers, he seemed worried and alarmed at the news, but he helped me get through it.
I heaved an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes. "You know it's not the reason!" I pinched the bridge of my nose as a headache flared up. The frustration was getting to me. I took a breather. "It's just...that part of my life is officially over with."
Okay, so it wasn't a total lie. Just a half-truth, which wasn't new to me because I've been doing it all my whole life, and even though I thought of Symon as a surrogate father figure after my own father's demise, it still unnerved me I couldn't console all of my problems on him, no matter how much my conscious mind screamed at me to do so.
He sighed. "Fine," he said. "Could you at least do me a favor by taking a look at a photo before you dismiss my request so quickly?" How could I say no now?
After giving an affirmative nod, Symon reached inside his gray suit pulling out a small photograph, and holding it out to me. "Thank you for doing this."
"Whatever," I said, snatching the photo from him. One glance at the photograph, and I swear my heart stopped and my eyes widened. There was nothing excited about the picture. It was just a colored snapshot of a teenage girl standing next to an older woman. Both ladies had blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and matching bright heartwarming smiles. But those things weren't what sucked the breath right out of my lungs. It was just studying their feature more closely did I temporarily lose the ability to breathe properly.
I sprang to my feet, staring wide eyed at the photo. "No. It couldn't be," I muttered to myself. This couldn't be happening! This couldn't be...
"What is it?" I heard Symon ask, but I couldn't respond to him. I was too rigid with fear. I couldn't deflect my gaze from the picture. My hands grew ice cold and numb and the photo fluttered to the floor. My heart continued to pound and my breathing became labored. I felt like I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Vaguely, I became aware of Symon's hands gripping my shoulders again. "Mitch, listen to me, you've got to breath, buddy."
I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. "I..."
"What? What is it, Mitch? Talk to me, kiddo!" he said, desperately.
In an instant, from just hearing the profusely used nickname, I regressed back to a scared thirteen year old kid again who would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of my lungs from the horrid things I saw in my nightmares. And my dad would rush in and be there comforting me as he pulled me into his arms trying to calm down while at the same time seeking to get answers and information.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, hard before I lifted my panicked eyes up. "I-I-I've seen both of them."
Symon's eyebrows pinched together in contemplation and he scoffed at me. "I'm sorry, Mitch, but clearly it's impossible. The woman, well, she's...dead. And her daughter, well, she's missing."
"I know, Symon," I growled. "I didn't mean I saw them physically!" I bellowed out and glared at him.
"How could you see them?"
I took a moment to take a breath. It was time to spill the beans. No matter how much I'm dreading it. "You see, I, well, I saw the woman's picture on a news article online."
"Okay, but how do you explain seeing the girl?"
"That's where it gets tricky." I cleared my throat and whispered, "I-I saw her in a-a dream," I felt stupid and embarrassed when my voice broke off a bit. What was wrong with me? I had way more control than this. I didn't normally get this tensed nor did I become a stammering idiot. Was it because a part of me didn't want to believe it was happening all over again?
"I'm sorry, you what?" Symon asked. His eyes widened, his frowned brows deepened.
"You heard me!" I paced back and forth. "I don't know for a fact, but I think I had one of my visions. But if it was, it was—I don't know—different. God, Symon! I feel like the weight of the word is on my shoulders once again! If my ability to see the future has returned does this mean my other abilities have returned, too? Does this mean my visions are going to be different?" I was heading straight for a panic attack.
What I said had been the unquestionable truth. My powers did burden me in the past. And when I lost them, well, I admit I hadn't been at all too thrilled with it, but I accepted it nonetheless. In fact, I felt—still feel—like a piece of my soul had been ripped out and shattered, and a black oozing hole opened up and filled my heart with a bottomless emptiness—an empty void I could never fill. But slowly an abysmal seed was starting to fill it up and I was beginning to feel like my old self once again.
Symon gripped my shoulders again, stopping me in my tracks. "Mitch," he told me. "You need to slow down. You aren't making a whole heck of a lot of sense. Just take a moment, okay? Relax and breathe. Right now, we don't need you having one of your panic attacks."
I sighed, frustrated. He was right. I didn't need to have one of those at a time like this. So, I did as I was told and calmed my breathing until it evened out. After a few moments of silence, I retold my story slower. "I-I had this dream...but I learned about Sherry MacLean through a news article. But the thing is I saw her daughter murdered. I mean, I didn't see her killer, but I know she was killed."
"Come on," he said, disbelief hinted in his voice as he released his hold on me and leaned back a bit. "Sherry was found dead by Grove Lake. Did you happen to dream about her murder before it happened too?" Why did he sound so irritated?
I shook my head and lowered my eyes. "No, I told you I didn't see the woman's murder, just her daughter's."
"What do you mean?"
I refused to say anything as I rolled my eyes around in dissatisfaction. The weariness bulking on my chest was heavy and almost painful.
Symon broke the ominous, uncomfortable silence. "I can't help you, Mitch, if you won't let me."
I heaved a long sigh before I repeated the dream. Confusion was swirling inside my chest at the strange concentrated expression on his face. His wide eyes told me he wasn't just shocked by the news, he was also...interested? Why would he be interested?
Symon paced back and forth. "Okay, so let me see if I can comprehend this correctly," he said. "You say you saw this girl running down an alley and some random guy pops out of nowhere and just kills her? How could this be?"
"I never said he killed her," I said, sternly. "Besides, do you think I know how this is possible? I'm just as confused, if not more than, you are."
He rubbed his cleft chin. "And you're undeniably sure it's the exact same girl as the one in the photograph I showed you, right?"
I crossed my arms and snorted. "Yes, Symon, I know how to tell who or what is in my dreams by now. I used to have them all the time when I was a kid. I don't know why they chose to reemerge now, but I know the feeling. It's different than my normal nightmares. Although, I don't remember my vision ever being like this," I finished, talking to myself mostly.
Symon pulled me into an awkward hug. "Mitch, I wish I knew how to help you with these kinds of things. As we both know I've never been good at helping you decipher your dreams and help you sort out the jumbled up chaos you've witnessed in your head." Talk about an understatement. Symon was terrible at helping. Though, he did try.
With my dad, he and I could decipher my visions in a few minute. With Symon, it took about an hour. Sometimes my visions weren't literal or specific. It wasn't rare for me to get locations, but something the locations weren't the right ones; they were clues and metaphors.
I pulled away from him. "I know," I said. "I just wish I knew the reason why I had this dream in the first place. All my previous visions were different than this and had a common theme. But this one didn't. Why?"
"I wish I had an answer for you. However, I can tell about why I'm here. The teenage girl you saw in your dream, well, I lied to you. She's not just missing, she was kidnapped, and I've been put in charge of finding her."
"Why? Don't you have more pressing matters to deal with than tracking down some teenage girl?"
He glowered. "Most of the time, yes, it's true and all, but there's something about this family the council members are suspicious of. What it is, I don't know."
Great, the Vampire Councilors were involved. What could they possibly want to find this girl? The vampires only stuck their dead beat nose into businesses related to or dealing with other vampire related problems. From the photograph, neither of these two ladies appeared to be vamps. For one, they showed up in the picture. And two, they both appeared to be healthy. So, if they weren't vampires, why were the Vampire Council members so suspicious?
"If it's true, why are you bringing me into all of this? Just how can I be of help?"
Symon stared at me, intense and stern. From his stone body language, I couldn't tell what was roaming around inside his skull. I'm no mind reader, but when it came to Symon, he was a bit easy to read. Yet now, I was completely lost. He heaved a sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" I shook my head.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. "It is because I need your observation skills and excessive knowledge you possess."
"What excessive knowledge?" It clicked. "So, this is your game, huh? The Vampire Council wants you to investigate because they believe supernatural happenings are occurring within the family, huh? Well, if there is then it would definitely explain why I had the vision."
In the past, every single one of my visions always dealt with some sort of supernatural activity. I used to ask myself why I was getting bombarded with the visions in the first place. It was a question I still couldn't answer. I never had a vision dealing with something normal. In fact, most all of my visions I had dealt with some form of paranormal phenomenon. Although, the more I pondered over this vision, the more I began to wonder what part of the dream was supernatural. Was it the man or the girl?
So far, I came up with no explanation.
Symon's voice brought me back to the present. "Yes, but it's not exactly the whole reason."
"What exactly is the whole reason? I mean, what other reason could there possibly be?"
Symon rubbed his eyes. "It's just as you said. The council does speculate some supernatural activity happening because there have been reports of someone informing them of a strange occurrences happening. I don't have any specific knowledge this family has any kind of supernatural activity or powers like us, but since you have expert knowledge about all things paranormal, I figured I could put your expertise to good use. And if there is in fact a paranormal element connecting your recent vision when—if—we find Emily, you can ask her yourself."
"Oh, swell idea," I said, sarcastically. "I can see it now, 'Hey, by the way, are you perhaps a vampire or some other ungodly supernatural freak? Have you demonstrated any special powers or abilities allowing you to do incredible, yet dangerous things?' Yeah, she'll shutdown the conversation in less than a minute with those words.
Symon closed his eyes and shook his head, aggravated. "Well, when you say it like that, she will." He clasped his hands on my shoulders. "Hey," he said calmly. "You are not a freak nor are you dangerous. You're far from it. In fact, you have helped and saved a lot of people in the past thanks to your powers."
"But I still couldn't save Tom...Tommy!" I yanked out of his grip. My breathing was becoming heavy as I turned away from him. I didn't want him to see me weak. The tears prickled in the corner of my eyes, blurring my sight, but I refused to let them fall. They weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of anger and guilt. And as I spoke, my voice broke. "I should have done more to prevent it. I should've..." I sighed, slumping down on the couch, hands in my lap, and gazed up at the ceiling as if I were looking for an answer.
"Should've what? Warned him? Mitch, you told me countless of times your Prophetic Dreams can and can't be changed. You've even said and I quote, 'have a hard time telling the difference'. Let's say you did warn him, what do you think he would do?"
My whole body vibrated. A torrent of emotions tore through my soul, keeping me from speaking up. I knew what Symon was getting at. What would've happened if I told him? Knowing Tommy like I did he'd most likely discount my warning. His impulsive nature often made him leap before he looked.
"Exactly," he said sternly. "Even if he had believed your warning, your dream still would have come true."
I remained silent, letting his words sink in. He was right. When I heard him exhale and felt him grasp my shoulders again, giving them a light squeeze, did I turned around and stared up at him. "Look, I can't change the past and neither can you, but it doesn't mean we can't learn from it. I know how much Tommy's death pained you. It's still hurting you even now, but could you at least put you're indignant feeling aside and help? If not for me, for Emily's sake," he said with a soft smile.
I stared at him incredulity. Scrutinizing his eyes, I made sure he wasn't toying with me or hiding something deadly. But all I could see in the depths of his blue gaze was a sea of seriousness.
"So, what do you say? Will you help me?" he asked.
"I-I'm not sure," I said, hesitantly. "What about Mack and Zoe? I don't want to break their trust even more. Especially, not after what transpired this morning."
He scrunched his eyebrows. "Wait, what happened this morning?"
I shook my head to let him know I didn't want to talk about it. "It...doesn't matter. It was stupid. And I learned my lesson from it."
Symon cocked an eyebrow. "If you're so worried I could put in a call and talk to them myself if I have to. I won't mention anything like your ability or anything else you've mentioned. I'll just say you're helping me out on an important business assessment. They'll understand." He smiled lightly. "So, what's your answer?"
I stood there with my head bowed, debating the two decisions pondering on my hectic mind: My first decision was kicking Symon out and yelling at him to go home and head upstairs, fall sleep uneasily knowing I had the power to help and did nothing, and have guilt consume my soul forever? Or two, I could go with Symon, head back into danger, investigate for answers, risk exposing myself, save the girl's life, and come home, possibly get grounded, and fall sleep peacefully knowing she's safe and sound?
I made my mind up. My own well-being was nothing compared to the exquisite life of an innocent teenage girl who was in mortal danger of getting killed by some sick psychopath. And who knows maybe this was the reason—if I did indeed have my abilities back—was it so I could atone for my past mistake?
I disregarded my own selfish feelings and thoughts as I faced Symon and said, "All right, I'll do it. I'll help you."
"It's settled. Let's get going."
It was too late to turn back now.