Flux (The Flux Series Book 1) Read online

  “Please, Ari. I’m not the only one looking for you. There will be others, and they won’t be as gentle as I’ve been.”

  I didn’t want to hear him, didn’t want to process what he’d said or detect the possibility of a threat in his words. All I wanted was for this madness to go away, so I could go back to my bedroom and continue to hide from the world.

  ***

  I went to my therapist’s appointment, even though I was now running late. The therapist seemed like a nice enough man, and I did my best to answer his questions as honestly as I could without touching on any of the possible ghost and hot, leather-jacketed stalker. Though I tried to stay focused, my mind kept drifting back to everything the guy—Hunter—had said. I’d convinced myself that Karina had been haunting me, and had been more than ready to believe such a thing, so why was I less inclined to believe what Hunter had said about me being the one who was responsible for all the strange things? It had started the moment I’d woken in the hospital, when my dad had told me about Karina, and the big fluorescent tube above my bed had shattered.

  Every part of me wanted to convince myself Hunter was lying. I felt like I was trying to put together pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit. Yet I couldn’t help but start to wonder if there was some truth in his words.

  I went home to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table, anxiously waiting for me. I gave him a wide smile as I walked in.

  “How did it go?” he asked. I could see he wanted me to be positive about it. The therapy session had been his idea, and I knew he wanted me to be better.

  I kept the smile plastered to my face. “It was good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He really got me to open up about everything. I was a bit anxious at first, but within twenty minutes, I felt like he understood exactly what I was saying.”

  I knew because of my age, my father would never get to see what actually happened during the session. I couldn’t even have told him properly myself. I hadn’t concentrated on anything that had been said during the hour. My thoughts had been with Hunter and the claims he was able to move things … how, exactly? He hadn’t specified that. It was a mental thing. It had to be.

  “So,” my dad said, hesitating slightly. “Did you talk about going back to work?”

  “Yeah. He agrees it’s still a bit early, but he does think it’s a good idea for me to spend more time outside of the house. I’m going to meet up with some friends. Catch a movie, maybe some dinner.”

  His face brightened, and I felt a pang of guilt for lying.

  He seems happier. You couldn’t tell him the truth. It’s better this way.

  But it wasn’t just about making my dad happy. I was also setting myself up with an excuse to leave the house if I needed to. I knew I shouldn’t even be considering it, but I couldn’t help my thoughts drifting toward the possibility that everything Hunter said had been true.

  I kissed my dad on the cheek then made us both sandwiches.

  I went up to my bedroom and lay back on my bed, looking up at my ceiling. Could what Hunter said be true? Did I have a talent? Could I move things with my mind?

  I gave a frustrated sigh and covered my face with both hands. This was crazy.

  But I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t let it go.

  I sat back up in bed, swung my legs over the side, and rested my elbows on my knees. My gaze scoured my room, not sure what I was looking for, until my eyes alighted on the empty water glass sitting on my bedside table.

  I felt ridiculous, but I had to try. My stomach flipped with nerves. I didn’t know what I expected—nothing, most likely—but I still held a tiny inkling of what might have been either hope or fear, that I might actually be able to do something insane.

  Still sitting on the bed, I faced the empty glass. I locked my gaze on it and focused, blocking out all other thought and distraction.

  Move, I thought fiercely, directing all my brain power toward the inanimate object. Move, move!

  Nothing happened.

  I spoke out loud, hissed the words. “Move, dammit.”

  The glass remained sitting on the nightstand, not even trembling.

  I gave an exasperated sigh and looked away.

  This was ridiculous. It was the stuff of science fiction movies. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed some stranger to talk me into half believing him. Of course I couldn’t move things with my mind.

  My sister haunting me was a far more logical explanation.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, after I’d showered and pulled on a clean t-shirt, I yanked open my bedroom window’s drapes to look out onto the street beyond our yard.

  I snatched a breath.

  There, in the middle of the street, stood Hunter, wearing his now familiar jeans and leather jacket combo. He was staring right up at my window, as though he’d been waiting for me to come to it. It was only seven thirty in the morning. How long had he been standing out there, and what the hell was he doing here?

  “You have got to be shitting me.”

  Anger surged through me. How did he find out where I lived? This was totally unacceptable. He’d focused on me at my most vulnerable, filling my head with his craziness and lies. I didn’t understand what he wanted out of this, but I was determined not to let it go on for much longer.

  I grabbed my sweat pants from the chair I’d slung them across the previous night, shoved my feet into my sneakers, and slammed my way out of my bedroom. My dad wasn’t up yet, the house still and silent, though I figured from the way I was storming around, he’d be awake fairly soon.

  I hurried down the stairs and to the front door, which I unlocked and swung open. Hunter was still standing in the same spot, but his attention moved from my window to me as I stepped out of the door. I closed it behind me then strode across the street to come to a standstill right in front of him.

  “What the hell are you doing hanging out in my street?” I demanded.

  His lips twisted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your number and I didn’t want to start knocking. I figured your father would start asking questions you didn’t know how to answer if he found me on the doorstep, and I didn’t want to put you in the position.”

  “You still haven’t explained why you’re at my house.”

  “It’s not your house,” he pointed out. “It’s your father’s house.”

  “I grew up here. It’s still my home. Why do you have to be such a dick about everything? ”

  He gave his head a slight shake. “Sorry. I have a bad habit of things I’m thinking coming straight out of my mouth.” He frowned slightly as he studied me. “Have you never wanted to move out? You’re the same age as me—twenty-two. I left home the minute I turned eighteen, but you’re still here.”

  His line of questioning distracted me from my anger. I didn’t know why I felt the need to defend my life choices to him, but I did. “I never felt the need to move out. My sister did as soon as she could, but it didn’t feel right leaving our dad all alone.”

  “So you stayed for his sake?”

  “No, not completely. I’m happy here. I haven’t felt the need to leave the nest.”

  He gave a small smile. “That’s good. At least you’ve been happy.”

  I frowned. “And you weren’t?”

  “No, I wasn’t quite so lucky. My dad wasn’t as good to me as yours was.”

  I didn’t know why my interest had been piqued, but it had. “What about your mom?”

  “She died.”

  “Shit.” I glanced away then looked back at him. “I’m sorry. Mine, too.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I know. She died the same way as mine—an aneurysm, right?”

  My frown deepened, wondering how he knew this. “Yes, that’s right.” He always managed to confuse me. I could hardly believe we were standing in the middle of the street first thing in the morning, having this conversation. “Your mom died of the same thing? That’s weird.”

  “It isn’t, really. They we
re both killed by the same people.”

  His words struck me like a punch in the chest. I shook my head again and turned from him. “No, I’m not listening to you again. You’re crazy. Yesterday you tried to fill my head with a load of bullshit about how I had some kind of paranormal talent, and now you’re trying to tell me our mothers’ deaths are somehow connected?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, and it’s not bullshit.”

  I spun back around to him. “I tried to move something with my mind,” I felt ridiculous even admitting I’d done this, “and nothing happened.”

  “What did you do?”

  I huffed out a breath of air in exasperation. “What do you mean, what did I do? I sat and stared at something, and willed it to move.”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s never going to work.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, really? And why’s that, Mr. Know-it-all?”

  “I already told you, you need to be trained to learn how to use your talents. Just thinking about something is never going to work, especially if you’re sitting on your own in a calm environment. It’s intense emotions that makes our talent work—anger, fear, grief.”

  I’d experienced each of those emotions a lot recently. I couldn’t let myself be drawn in by him again. “That’s convenient.”

  He took a step toward me, and I was locked in his chocolate brown gaze once more. His eyes were so deep I thought I could fall right into them. I suddenly became aware I’d neglected to put on a bra when I’d run outside, and the chill of the morning air, combined with his increasing proximity, cause my nipples to pucker and point though the material of the shirt.

  I lifted my arm to cover my chest, but his hand shot out and caught my wrist before I could, and he dragged me toward him. I was held, frozen in his grip, as he stared down at my face.

  “Tell me about the bombing, Ari,” he said. “Bring it all back in your mind. How it felt to feel the heat of the explosion, the confusion and terror surrounding you. Take yourself back to that moment when you realized what had happened and it dawned on you that your sister was missing.”

  His words conjured that moment in my mind. A wave of emotions swept through me, the panic of that day clutching at my heart, the sickness of grief churning my stomach and rising up through my throat.

  “No, stop it,” I cried, tears filling my eyes. Inside my head, one thought blared louder than the others—help! I wanted to get out of this situation, couldn’t stand to relive another second of it. I’d do anything to make it stop.

  Somewhere beside me, a car alarm sounded, followed by a second. Then another rise and fall of an alarm blared, and another, and another. Before I knew what was happening, the street was filled with the wail of alarms, and people began to emerge from their houses to see what was going on.

  Hunter let me go and I yanked out of his hold. “What did you do?”

  He reached out and swept away a tear that had escaped my eye with his thumb. “I’m so sorry to put you through that,” he said. “I needed to prove to you that you could do it. All it took was a little extra emotion.”

  I looked around at the chaos on my street. “What are you talking about?”

  “You did this.”

  “What?”

  “You think the car alarms came on by themselves?”

  I blinked, trying to force away the memories of the bombing. Why did I keep finding myself wanting to believe him? It was the most frustrating thing in the world. This was nothing more than another trick—it had to be.

  I remembered how I’d been frozen in place, and yet I’d called out with my mind—help! The car alarms had brought my neighbors out onto the street, a help of a kind, if they were all now giving us suspicious glares as though they thought we’d walked down the street hitting all of the vehicles to turn on the alarms. Hunter had released me and stepped away. I’d called for help, and I’d gotten it.

  Across the street, people began to silence their car alarms, calling to each other to query what had happened, though of course no one could give an answer.

  He must have noticed me floundering. “You still don’t believe me?”

  “How can I? This is crazy.”

  “So come with me. Meet the others?”

  “The others?”

  “Yes, there are more of us. It isn’t just you and me.”

  “I can’t leave with you. You could be a murderer.”

  He laughed, exposing straight white teeth. “I’m not a murderer.”

  I pouted. “A rapist, then?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You seriously think I’m a rapist.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had the bad fortune of meeting one before.”

  “Ari!” My father’s shout came from the direction of the house. The commotion outside must have woken him, and he’d seen me standing in the street and come out to investigate. He frowned as he saw me talking with a stranger and hurried over.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. “I heard all the commotion.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what happened. All the alarms just starting going off.”

  “Hmm, a minor earthquake, maybe?” he suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe. I didn’t feel anything, though.”

  My father’s gaze flicked to Hunter. “They can be like that sometimes.”

  I realized he was waiting for me to introduce him. “Um, Dad, this is Hunter. Hunter, this is my dad, Bryce.”

  Hunter put out his hand, and my father took it. They shook once, short and perfunctory.

  “Good to meet you, sir.”

  My father gave a tight smile. “And how, exactly, do you know my daughter?”

  I quickly stepped in. The last thing I wanted was for him to start talking about special talents or anything like that. My dad was worried enough about me as it was. “We work together, Dad. Or we did before ... everything.”

  “Oh, right. I don’t remember you ever mentioning a Hunter.”

  Hunter’s eyes flicked to me. “I only started recently, but I heard what happened to Ari, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.” He paused and then added, “I’m sorry about the loss of your other daughter, sir.”

  My dad gave a tight-lipped smile, his nostrils flaring as he held back his emotion. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat.

  The neighbors had all started to head back inside their homes.

  “Actually, sir,” Hunter continued, “I was just heading by to see if I could take Ari out for breakfast.”

  I glared at him, but my dad’s face brightened. “I’m sure Ari would love to go out for breakfast, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Ari would like to make decisions for herself,” I said, my voice tight. “Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for it.” I motioned down at my sweat pants, but kept my other arm folded across my chest to hide my bra-less nipples.

  “You can go and get ready. I’m sure your friend won’t mind waiting for ten minutes.”

  Hunter grinned, the corners of his eyes creasing. I could tell he was pleased he had my dad on side. “Sure. I’m happy to wait.”

  I shot him daggers, but his grin only widened.

  Shit.

  “Okay, fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll go and get ready.”

  We all went back to the house, and I left Hunter and my dad downstairs while I ran up to swap my sweat pants for jeans and put on the bra I’d been so desperately missing. I dragged a brush through my hair and slapped on some foundation and lip gloss. I told myself I wasn’t doing it because of the dark-haired, leather-jacketed guy downstairs, but even I knew I’d be lying to myself. He might be crazy, but he was annoyingly good-looking.

  I cracked open my bedroom door to hear the sound of the two men talking downstairs. It sounded casual, and my dad’s laughter drifted up the stairs. They seemed to be getting on, so I assumed the whole ‘I think your daughter can move stuff with her mind’ topic must have been avoided.

  Taking a breath, I headed back downstairs. My father and Hu
nter were in the kitchen, Hunter leaning against the counter as my dad bustled around, making himself coffee and breakfast. I assumed he’d offered Hunter coffee, but obviously he would have refused, as apparently that’s what we were about to go and get now.

  Hunter noticed me lurking in the doorway and turned to me, that same wide smile spreading across his face. My stomach did a strange flip. No, I could not let myself be affected by this guy. It would be just my luck to fall for a madman.

  But you’re leaving the house with him. If you think he’s crazy, why are you not hiding behind your father right now, demanding to call the police?

  I wanted to know more. There was a reason Hunter had singled me out, and I had to admit strange things had been happening lately. I wasn’t sure I was convinced it had been me to set all the car alarms off, but something had happened. Plus, I’d seen that trashcan move outside of the shrink’s office the other day. Something was happening here, and I wanted to know what.

  “You look beautiful,” said Hunter.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m wearing jeans.”

  “Still look beautiful.”

  “Whatever.”

  My dad scolded me. “Ari, learn to take a compliment.”

  Like a child, I pulled a face at my father and stuck out my tongue. I watched him suppress a smile.

  “You’re ready to go?” Hunter asked me.

  “I guess I am.”

  My dad hustled me toward the front door, Hunter leading the way.

  I approve, my dad mouthed at me as I walked out of the house. I stared at him with wide eyes, trying to silently tell him there was nothing to approve of, but my dad only gave me a smile and a wink. He wouldn’t be so approving if I ended up in a ditch somewhere. But for the moment, my apparent social life was making him happy.

  I waited until he’d closed the front door behind us before turning to Hunter. “So, where are you taking me for breakfast?”

  He grinned. “I’m not. I think there are some people you need to meet.”