15. FIRST KISS, TRUTH AT LAST
As though giving me a chance to stop him, Bran leaned closer and closer. We shared a breath so sweet and intoxicating my eyelids dropped and a soft sigh escaped me. Then he was there, his lips touching mine. Soft brushes. A spark of electricity shot from my lips and raced underneath my skin.
He pulled me closer and anchored me to him. Incredible sensations blazed through me like wildfire. I didn’t know what to do. Kiss him back? My mind went blank, and a ringing started in my ears.
Then his lips were gone, and I was left panting. He stroked my face and pressed his forehead to mine. I don’t how long it took before I felt near normal enough to open my eyes. Bran watched me, his chest expanding and contracting. His grip tightened on my waist while he massaged my scalp in slow soothing motions with his other hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice above a whisper.
“I think so. You?” My voice was shaky, but for once I didn’t care.
“I’m good.”
This was my first kiss, and now I knew why kids made out in cars or wherever they could. I wanted Bran to kiss me again. A lot. “Is it always like that?”
A dimple appeared and disappeared from his cheeks, his eyes twinkling. “Like what?”
“Exciting and beautiful.”
He touched my cheek, again. “No. It’s different with you.” His watch beeped. “Nine-twenty-five, we’d better go. I’ll collect the picnic stuff later.”
I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want the night to end. But his wings had already retracted, and when he reached for his shirt, the moonlight showed smooth skin, no scar or hint that wings had graced his back. But one lone feather floated to the ground right beside me.
I scooped it up and twirled it between my fingers. A faint pine scent teased my senses, and I smiled. “Look.”
Bran turned and saw the silver plume. I couldn’t read his expression as he stared hard at it. I offered him the feather. He shook his head. “No. I don’t want it. Keep it if you’d like.”
I put the feather in my back pocket. Not that I needed a reminder of tonight. Every tiny detail of my date with Bran was etched in my brain.
When Bran opened his arms, I slipped in them and hugged him close. My earlier insecurity was gone. I liked Bran, more than liked him, and I refused to pretend otherwise.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
His arm tightened around me. “I’ll stop by your place in the evening if your grandfather doesn’t mind.”
This time around, I didn’t close my eyes when we teleported. One minute we were under the moonlight, mountains behind us and the valley before us. The images peeled away to be replaced by neon lights, walls, and furniture. My feet sunk into the carpeted floor. We were at my trailer.
Grampa in his striped pajamas and a navy blue robe sat on his favorite rocking chair, his long graying hair a spiky mess around his shoulders. It looked like he’d run his fingers through it. He looked up from his watch when we appeared.
I grinned, stepping out of Bran’s arms. “Nine-thirty, here we are,” I said.
“Ninety-twenty-eight,” Grampa corrected and stood. He extended a hand toward Bran. “You kept your word.”
Bran gripped the offered hand and grinned. “I did, sir. I’ll go get your truck now.”
Grampa nodded. “Good. However, next time you decide to take my granddaughter flying, stay within our airspace. The protective shield over the valley doesn’t cover the mountains.”
Bran nodded. I could only stare at Grampa in shock. Did anything ever escape him?
“Don’t forget to bring back my truck, son,” he told Bran. “Then head straight back to Hsia’s. We have a long night ahead of us.”
Bran turned toward me, and for a brief second there was awkwardness. Grampa hadn’t moved an inch, and we couldn’t ask him to give us privacy.
“See you tomorrow, Lil.”
“Yeah. Don’t forget this.” I removed the coat he’d loaned me and passed it to him. Our fingers grazed, lingered. He winked, which I hoped Grampa didn’t see. Then he was gone. I dropped on the nearest couch and sighed.
“I’ll warm up some food. Do you want anything?” Grampa asked, heading to the fridge.
“No, I’m fine.” I replayed the evening in my head. Bran and I were alrunes.
“What did you two eat?” Grampa asked, intruding on my thoughts again.
“Pizza and vegetable salad.” Then what he was doing registered. I pushed the images of Bran aside and watched Grampa with a frown. He removed a plate of leftover meatloaf and rice from the microwave and poured a glass of orange juice. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet?”
He grimaced. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Yeah, right. I looked around the room at the pages of tabloid newspaper scattered on the floor around his rocking chair. The last time he couldn’t eat was because he was worried about me on the morning of my first day in junior high. Before then, he’d homeschooled me. He’d sat across from me as I ate my breakfast and kept asking me if I was sure I wanted to go as he tore through the various magazines he often read. I was tempted to ask him why he allowed me to go out with Bran when it bothered him so much.
No, I should be happy and leave well enough alone. He carried his food back to his chair and dug in with gusto. I didn’t speak until he placed the empty plate on the side table. “So what did you do while I was gone?” I asked in a casual way.
“Searched for any unusual reports in the newspapers.”
I picked up one sheet and read the headline. “‘Zombies Attacked People in Baja, Mexico.’ Do you really believe there’s any truth to such stories?”
“Ninety-nine percent of the time. Whatever escapes the radar of the tech guys at the High Council offices tends to end up in the tabloids. We take care of the demons responsible before the incidents work their way into more respected newspapers, airwaves, or television. With information flow on the Internet, it’s even harder to contain incidents like that. I can’t remember the number of times I’ve erased memories or planted new ones.”
I stared at him with a slack jaw. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. You sure you don’t want something to drink while we talk?” He sipped his orange juice and eyed me with a slight frown.
“I’m okay, Grampa. No, actually, just one thing.” I ran to my bedroom and grabbed a throw blanket. I left my hoodie in the truck and was feeling the chill now that I didn’t have Bran’s coat to warm me. Back at the couch, I curled up under the thick, warm furry coverlet and tucked it around me. I looked at Grampa and waited.
He put his glass down. “What is it you want to know?”
I shook my head. Now that I was about to get some answers, I wasn’t sure where to start. “Is it true Grandma and Mom weren’t allowed in Xenith?”
He sighed. “Yes and no. Marriage between our people and humans is frowned upon since our forefathers broke that particular law, but we’re allowed to petition the circle if we fall in love with a human. I loved your grandmother and couldn’t imagine not having her in my life. The circle gave their approval, but the decision, like many we make every day, came with a penalty.”
He paused as if to let the point sink in. I couldn’t help wondering if he was warning me about my friendship with Bran. I scrunched my lips and waited for him to continue.
“It’s true that non-Guardian spouses are not allowed on the island, but Flora, your grandmother, didn’t care about that. Her only concerns were always me and Tatiana. She was happy when Tatiana showed signs of having powers at sixteen. We couldn’t hide from her who we are and what I did for a living. Like most Nephlings, once Tatiana showed that she had powers, she could go to Xenith whenever she liked. Your mother might not have had enough to be a Cardinal, but she could use telepathy like any pure Guardian child, and her clairvoyance abilities were exceptional.”
I frowned. “What’s clairvoyance?”
“The ability to see things from faraway.”
Cool. I leaned forward, my gaze not leaving his face. “So Mom visited Xenith?”
A tiny smile touched Grampa’s lips. “No. I would have loved for her to visit, see where I was born, but once she heard that your grandmother couldn’t go, she refused to go, too. Your mother was a very stubborn young lady.”
Way to go, Mom. I wished I had her spirit. As for Kim, she’d lied. I couldn’t wait to tell her to shut her trap about my family. “Uh, so what was your penalty for marrying Grandmother?”
His mouth turned down at the corners, and his eyes narrowed. “It was selfish of me to expect her to accept our differences. Watching the light in her eyes dim and her spirit wane as years went by while she aged and I didn’t was my punishment. Toward the end…” He paused, ran a hand over his long, graying hair, and dragged air into his lungs. “She couldn’t even look at me.”
He mumbled the last sentences, but I heard him. Stabs of pain rained on my heart. To love like he did and then lose it all must have been soul-crushing. Tears crested in my eyes and spilled over. Grampa’s eyes were bright as he reached for my hands.
He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. For forty years, we had the time of our lives. So much love, so much laughter. I made sure she was the happiest woman alive.”
I laughed through tears, knowing he was trying hard to be upbeat for my sake, but I was an empath like him. With ours hands linked, I could feel his pain, his heart aching for her even now.
He patted my hand and nodded. “Let me make something to drink.” His voice broke, but he tried to cover it with a cough. “I’m parched.”
My heart ached for him. He walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboards. We both needed the time to compose ourselves. I swiped at my cheeks, questions zipping in my head. Where did Mom meet my father? Why wasn’t I with her when she and Grandma had that fatal traffic accident? I looked up to find Grampa adding powdered chocolate mix to our drinks, his eyes on me.
“You want to know about Tatiana.” It came out as a statement, not a question.
I pretended not to be desperate for more information on my mother and shrugged. “We can talk some other time if you’d prefer.”
He carried the steaming mugs to where I sat, gave me a cup, and took his seat. He sipped his drink. I couldn’t bring myself to drink mine. I set it on a side table and focused on him.
“Your mother was brilliant. She spent years getting one degree after another. Communications. Computers. Finance. She attended the top universities—Stanford undergraduate, Yale and Cornell for her masters. She could have been anything she wanted to be, but she liked new challenges. She spent years traveling and doing odd jobs here and abroad. At last, she joined the African High Council in Johannesburg. We thought she’d settle down there, but she transferred to Australia then to South America.”
“She must have inherited the gypsy wanderlust from Grandma,” I teased.
Grampa laughed. “That’s what your grandmother used to say. While in South America, she fell in love with a young Civilian Guardian and got engaged. She was about to bring him home to visit us when she called. The engagement was off. His family was not sure marrying a Nephling was the right thing to do.” Grampa blinked and cleared his throat.
My heart strained to keep beating at a steady pace, but a chill streaked down my spine. “Was he my—?”
“No, he wasn’t your father. But after that, your mother decided she didn’t want to work for the council anymore. She disappeared. We heard from her on and off, but she didn’t come home for years. And when she did, she had you.” Grampa swallowed another mouthful of his drink and smiled. “You brought light back into your grandmother’s eyes.”
“So you never met my father?”
“Sadly, no.”
I shook my head, not understanding. “But you always said he was a wonderful man who made Mom happy.”
“The few times your mother called, she sounded happy.”
“But?”
He stared at his cup for a very long time as though deciding how much to tell me.
“Don’t hold anything back, Grampa. I need to know instead of hearing other people’s versions of what happened.”
He put his drink down, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers. His gaze locked with mine. “When your mother returned with you, she’d changed. She was withdrawn. She moved in with Janelle and became a recluse. I couldn’t reach her, your grandmother couldn’t reach her, and even Janelle said Tatiana never discussed where she’d been those past years. She spent her waking moments with you.” He paused and released a breath. “I was away that day.”
“The day of the accident?” I asked. Grampa’s lips pinched, and his eyes became shadowed. When he didn’t speak, my heart lurched. “Grampa?”
“I know I’ve always said that your mother and grandmother died in a traffic accident.” He measured his words.
I nodded.
“That’s not true.”
My heart slammed with dread.
Grampa looked at me with eyes that begged for understanding. “We lived in New England at the time, but we, the Cardinals Guardians, were in California fighting wildfire demons. I thought they were safe under the Council’s protection, but Coronis’ demons attacked our enclave. Other Guardians fought back. Flora couldn’t. She had no powers.” He paused and shook his head.
I wanted to tell him to stop, ease the pain apparent in his voice, but I couldn’t speak. I had to know the truth. A lump swelled in my throat, suffocating me. Grampa never wanted to discuss the “accident” that took my mother and grandmother. I thought the pain was too much for him to bear, the wounds too fresh. Now I understood he couldn’t tell me the truth until I got my powers.
“Tatiana used her clairvoyant powers and saw them attack Flora.” His voice broke. “But by the time she teleported home, your grandmother was gone. Your mother didn’t stand a chance against the demons. They drained her psi energy. Without it, we can’t survive—and no Guardian healer can ever reverse such an attack. We were alerted, but when I got home, Tatiana was barely hanging on. She had just enough strength left to telepath to me what happened and to ask me one thing—to keep you safe.”
Beads of sweat dotted Grampa’s forehead and his breathing was labored, but what sent my heart plunging to my feet were the tears. They swelled in his eyes, turning his dark eyes into pools of misery. I gulped.
“I didn’t protect them. I failed my only child and my Flora,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
My vision blurred as tears raced down my cheeks. What should I say? I kicked off the blanket, jumped up, and rushed to his side. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight. For a moment, grief locked my throat in a chokehold. I pressed my cheek against his head and rocked him, each shake of his powerful shoulder a jab to my heart.
“It wasn’t your fault. The council should have been watching Grandma. They are the ones who failed to protect her, not you.” My voice grew firmer. “You made good on the promise you made Mom. You kept me with you in your travels, homeschooled me, and trusted only those closest to you with my safety.”
I talked and talked until Grampa patted my arm. “I’m sorry I’m being such an old goat.”
“No, it’s my fault for always pushing for answers.” I knelt down by his chair and looked into his red-rimmed eyes. “I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories for you, Grampa. I just…needed to know the truth so people don’t blindside me with lies about our family.”
He reached out, cupped my cheeks, and smiled. “You have your grandmother’s fortitude and your mother’s stubbornness. You’ll need both in the years to come. But don’t ever lose your innate sweetness.”
I smiled, or attempted to. “You really think I’m like Mom and Grandma?”
“Absolutely. You’re the great grandchild of the King of the Gypsies.”
For the next thirty minutes, Grampa talked and I listened. He covered how he and Grandma met, their courtship, the bride price he paid for her hand in marriage, and the years he lived with her family. When he stopped, the twinkle was back in his eyes and a smile danced on his lips.
I leaned over and kissed his temple. “Go on to bed, Grampa. I’ll clean up.” I indicated the newspaper on the floor, the cups, and the plates.
“I think I’ll do that.” He patted my arm and got up.
“Love you, Grampa,” I added as he walked away.
“Same here, sweetheart. Don’t stay up too late. It’s after ten.” The door closed behind him.
I picked up the papers from the floor, hand washed all the cups and the dishes when I could have put them in the dishwasher, and mopped the surfaces in the kitchen and the living room.
In my room, I rearranged my desk and then my closet, color coordinating my shirts, skirts, and pants. I wanted to mourn the deaths of my mother and grandmother, but my tears refused to fall. Something I couldn’t explain settled deep inside of me and refused to dislodge.
At last, I slid between the sheets. With the comforter pulled to my chin, my room lit by the dim nightlight beside the door, I admitted what was bugging me. Bran. Did he know about the raid on the Guardians and the demons responsible?