Читать книгу Bright Star - Grayson Reyes-Cole - Страница 9

Chapter 6

Old Times

“Bright Star?” Jackson started pushing his vegetables around on his plate. “You haven’t told me how you ended up on that roof. I mean, maybe we should call the police.” She made a face. “If you don’t want to do that, I’m sure I can get someone from the Service to investigate discreetly. Really, no one will know what they find but us.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said in a docile tone. She gave him a comforting smile and her blue eyes seemed to glow under the shining fringe of red hair.

For a moment, Jackson softened. In the end, she had come away from this fine. Whole. Jackson’s face clouded as the image of this woman in a puddle of the glistening blood, her face stained red, imposed itself on the moment. “Bright Star, you almost died up there!” Jackson declared. “You can’t let them get away with it. There is no reason to protect someone who could have killed you.”

“I’m not protecting anyone,” she argued. Funny how she could argue forcefully and at the same time convey the vulnerability that had led Jackson to try to save her in the first place. Her eyes were down as she continued, “I’m just telling you there’s no need for the police. What happened, happened. Besides, I may not have died.”

“If you didn’t think you would die—and I assure you that you would have—then why did you call out to me?” Jackson asked. Bright Star kept her eyes on her plate and was silent.

“Great question. Why don’t you answer him?” Rush interjected as he strode into the room.

Jackson took note that his brother, who normally walked with his shoulders hunched and his head down, directly addressed the newcomer as he neared the table. He still wore his dreary layers. A faded black long-sleeved knit shirt. A dark, army green t-shirt over it. Baggy faded black jeans. But somehow, he looked larger, stronger. He sat down and reached for the bowls at the center of the table. Jackson couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Rush eat something besides cereal or burritos.

“I called for help, you just… you just answered.” She explained reluctantly. Jackson noticed that she looked at him but never directly at his brother. Jackson wished Rush would stop making the poor thing so uncomfortable. Jackson had seen his brother intimidate people plenty of times, but this time he obviously did it on purpose.

“Jackson,” Rush started even as he continued to scoop food onto his plate. “Did she call you by name?”

“I don’t remember,” Jackson answered truthfully with a frown. “I’m sure she didn’t. How would she know my name?”

“Yes, Bright Star,” Rush tilted his head and questioned her. “How would you know his name?” The girl didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to his brother. “Jackson, with all of your Service trained skills of observation, you don’t remember whether she said your name or not when you were whisked away to that rooftop?”

Jackson did not have a ready answer.

“At the end of the day, you’re an officer, Jacks. Why didn’t it occur to you to ask who did it? To call for help? To file a report, anything? Follow the path backwards. See for yourself.”

Jackson furrowed his brow. He thought back. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes and shut out anything but the memory of that rooftop. What had happened there? He began to concentrate, breathing slowly. In. Out. He breathed in and breathed out. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he felt his body get heavy. He focused on physics laws. Somehow, they made these Shifts easier. It hadn’t been explained in his parameters but… His body got even heavier. More and more weight seemed added to his chest until his heart was a boulder and gravity was in excess. Weighted down and down and down, Jackson expected to hit the floor and to have the breath pressed out of him, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he found his skin tingling as his soul peeled itself away.

He had admitted it to no one, but he loved this sensation. It felt like butterflies and his knees getting weak. Only it wasn’t just his stomach and it wasn’t just his knees. All of his joints, his body just seemed to melt into a languid tingle. Like floating in warm salted water. High; he imagined this is what it was like to be high. Then, he was hovering over the roof of that building several hours ago.

Slowly, the scene unfurled before him in his mind. There he was, crouched over her. There she was, a white and untouched angel lying in a deep ruby pool of her own making. Then he was gone. She was lying there broken and alone. Her lips were moving but no sound was coming out of them. He couldn’t tell what she was saying. Then, he heard his name like a soft sigh on the wind. His name. She called his name. Jackson Rush.

Jackson brought his hands down from his eyes, though the cloud of Shift made the room and its inhabitants dim. Bright Star was even darker, her brilliant white skin dim like honey. Everything was hazy but the eyes. Her blue eyes were more pronounced, as they were the only things to truly penetrate the fog. “Do you know me?” he asked her in surprise.

Bright Star put down her fork and steepled her hands in front of her. She was still and careful as she said to him, “I did not.”

“Then why did you call to me for help?” Then he answered his own question: “Because you knew about me being the Precocial. You called me because you thought I could save you.” It hadn’t occurred to him, but it had happened before. Many times in the field, he’d fought alongside men with varying preternatural Talents. Some had called to him when they were in trouble because he was the strongest. Jackson wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He was the Precocial. She didn’t say anything. Jackson continued, “You believed that I was the only one who could save you. You knew of me the way every other Shifter knows of me.”

“Yes,” Bright Star chirped with a firm nod.

“No,” Rush provided at the same time.

Jackson looked from one to the other and back again, “Bright Star, you called to me because you wanted to be saved.”

“Yes,” she answered with a more fervent nod.

“But not by you, Jackson,” Rush interjected. He pierced Bright Star with his gaze, but she still refused to look directly at him.

“Then who…” Jackson queried slowly, just milliseconds before the answer dawned on him. He wasn’t the person in the end who had saved her. Precocial or not, Jackson didn’t have the Talent. But Rush did. “How could she have known?”

Rush replied solemnly, “I told you. We’ve met before.”

“I did know Rush and I knew that he had a brother, Jackson,” Bright Star added.

Jackson thought on this for a moment, then questions started to flood from him. “If that was the case, then why would she call me and not you, Rush?”

“She was afraid I wouldn’t come.” Rush stated pointedly. “Isn’t that right, Bright Star?”

The creamy-skinned, red-haired girl remained mute. She cast her eyes downward this time, not looking at either of them.

“But how could she know that even if you were my brother, you would come? I didn’t even know about your Talent, Rush, before yesterday. How could she know you would come?”

“She’s a very, very clever girl, our Bright Star,” was Rush’s only answer.

“Is this true?” Jackson turned to her. She didn’t answer. Her hands rested folded in her lap and she studied her plate. “You just used me to get to my brother?”

“I was dying,” Bright Star reminded the younger brother as she tested the thickness of her mashed potatoes with her spoon.

Jackson swallowed. That was true. Did it matter when you were dying who saved you or how you got them to do it? He didn’t voice the question aloud.

“Don’t stop your questions now,” Rush encouraged. “You’re getting to the heart of the matter. Don’t stop.”

Jackson listened to his brother but his eyes were captured by the large blue ones that were—now he was certain—glowing. “What are you?”

“The same as you!” she declared. Her eyes went brighter. “You can Shift, and so can I.”

“But you were dying and you managed to bring me all the way to you. You managed to do it in time for me to call my brother.”

“I am blessed.”

Rush scoffed audibly and bit into a piece of chicken. Jackson didn’t believe it either. “How did you get up there? Who attacked you?”

“I told you, Jackson.” She didn’t raise her voice, but he could tell her patience was wearing thin. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jackson thumped his fists against the table in frustration. He didn’t like puzzles. He didn’t like that this beautiful woman was keeping a secret from him or his brother’s cryptic smirk. He pushed back from the table and covered his eyes with his hands again. Gradually, he was able to slow his breathing and his heart rate. Gradually, he was able to make out that scene on the top of that building. He saw her lying there. He saw himself at her side. He began tapping his forehead with his fingertips unconsciously as he tried to force the images to go in reverse. It didn’t happen as readily as he wanted, and already he tasted bile. He hadn’t done that good of a job preparing himself.

He felt an intrusion and a jolt that he knew to be Rush. Rush was easing his path as he struggled. The images behind his eyelids jumpstarted and he saw Bright Star with her arms out, leaning over the rail of the roof into the frigid, wet wind. She smiled as if she had just found home. Jackson was struck with how perfect she looked.

Then she leaned back and turned around. She picked something up out of a bag on the ground. She leaned down again and came up with a glinting, black-handled chef’s knife and a thermos. Jackson recognized the knife as the one he’d pulled from her near lifeless body. Bright Star twisted the cap on the thermos until it came free. She tossed it into the bag. Then she poured some of the contents into the hand holding the knife. At first, Jackson could only see that it was water. Then she turned and went to the edge of the roof again. She held one hand over the mouth of the thermos as she poured with the other. Water dribbled out from the cracks in her fingers. She made a small, tight fist. When she opened her hand once again, it was littered with tiny red blossoms. Blood.

Before Jackson could begin to guess, Bright Star turned up the glass to her lips and drank the whole mixture of water, acid, glass, and chamomile. When she was done, she staggered, but still managed to put the thermos away in her bag. Then she gripped the knife in both hands, holding it high, the blade pointed inward. She smiled wide, rapture on her lips, then plunged the blade into her gut, just below her sternum. It sank in to the hilt. This time she fell. She lay there for more moments than Jackson cared to count, then the bag disappeared and he saw himself standing in front of her.

Jackson shook his head to come back from the memory and stood up. Unfortunately, he took part of the tablecloth with him and all the items on top of the table spilled off. Bright Star dropped to her knees and began cleaning up the mess.

Jackson backed away and kept backing away until his back came against the wall. He couldn’t take his eyes off the girl whose russet head was bent over the busy task of cleaning up his mess.

“You tried to commit suicide,” he accused.

With that, her glowing eyes actually beamed hot blue light at him. She stood, drawing herself up impressively even though she was a good deal shorter than he was. “I didn’t.”

“But, I saw you,” Jackson yelled pointing at her.

“I know what you saw,” she agreed. “And it is true that what happened on that roof I did to myself. But I didn’t commit suicide, nor was I trying.” Finally, she looked over at Rush and her eyes found his, directly. “Rush didn’t let me die.”

“Jackson didn’t want you to die,” Rush replied as if that answered all questions.

“You saved me,” Bright Star spoke to him in a forceful tone. “Jackson, I would not kill myself. I did it for Rush. I did it because… I just wanted your brother to understand.”

“To understand what?” Jackson asked horrified. “What could hurting yourself possibly make him understand?”

Bright Star opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. No words. She tried again to the same outcome. For a moment, her eyes looked mutinous. Then she was docile again. The bright blue dimmed. She dropped to her knees and went back to cleaning up the mess on the floor.

“Why won’t you let her tell me why she did it?” Jackson came to stand eye to eye with his brother.

“You don’t want to know.”

“That’s not your fucking decision, Rush!” Jackson growled. “I don’t care what she said. That girl tried to kill herself last night and I demand to know why.”

Bright Star raised her head and, this time, Rush did not stop her words. “Jackson, I’m not suicidal. I never appreciated life until I met your brother, and now I think I appreciate it more than anyone else does in the universe. No, I didn’t try to kill myself, I only gave Rush an opportunity to save me.”

“You what?” Jackson gasped, brushing his palm over his head.

“Because that’s his destiny.”

Had the answer been less dramatic, Jackson would have been inclined to believe it. But this he couldn’t handle. Here was a girl who had chewed poisoned glass and plunged a knife into her delicate body trying to tell him about destiny. He started to laugh. She was crazy.

“I’m not crazy,” she argued, picking the thought directly from his mind. “I’m not.” She looked at Rush again, who remained painfully silent as she pleaded with Jackson. “Please listen. If you believe in Shift and you believe in High Energy, then you know there are some things greater in this world than what we can see, taste, hear, smell, or touch.”

“Of course I know that.”

“Then if you know it, you must know that sometimes we can overcome time and space.”

“Parameters of Shift 101,” Jackson retorted with condescension. “I know that as well.”

“Then how can you not understand or at the very least entertain the thought that there may be a destiny for all of us. That it already exists. There, perfect, waiting, and that we might be able to see it ahead of time?”

“I’m not denying that,” Jackson argued. “But are you telling me that Rush’s destiny was to save you on a friggin’ rooftop last night?”

Rush swallowed audibly. He watched them both intently.

“Yes and no,” Bright Star offered. She put out a hand in entreaty. “What happened last night was fate. That was like a beginning, though it wasn’t. Destiny does not start or stop. It culminates. Manifests. Events lead up to it. All events lead up to it. This was just one such event.”

“You don’t believe this.”

“I believe it.” She came around the table and grabbed his forearm in a firm grip. “I believe it, and you will believe it.

Jackson rolled his eyes and puffed his cheeks out. She stepped away from him.

“Okay, fine.” He halted her. “Where does Rush’s destiny culminate?”

“Jacob Rush will save the world!” Bright Star proclaimed with a joy so strong that she laughed and clasped her hands together.

Jackson started laughing for an entirely different reason. This had to be a joke, a preposterous one at best, but a joke just the same. He laughed so hard tears started in his eyes and he sank bank into his chair holding his stomach.

“How long did you think this could go on?” he asked his brother, who had never once, not even when they were children, played a practical joke on him.

“It’s not a joke, Jackson,” Rush said. “And for the record, I don’t believe any of it either. It’s preposterous, just like you think, but she’s not kidding. That’s why I told you to leave her alone. She really believes what she’s saying. She does. And there’s no telling what she’s willing to do to prove it.”

Jackson sobered. His brother, in his own expressionless way, looked petrified. There was something about his demeanor, the way he sat on the edge of his chair. The way he had finally stopped eating. This was no joke.

“Why does she have to prove it?” he questioned hesitantly. “If it’s your destiny to save the world, then why can’t she just wait until you do it?”

“Jackson,” Rush returned. “Sometimes you’re brilliant. Bright Star, if it’s my destiny, then won’t the deed be its own proof?”

Bright Star did not address either brother. She succeeded in getting all of the debris off the floor and back onto the table where she folded the ends of the tablecloth over the mess and tied it up so she could take the bundle to the kitchen closet. She was dressed in all white again. A pair of white slacks. A white sweater with a low neck. White shoes. He didn’t get any of this.

“Are you crazy?” He posed the question as if it were a question that ever elicited more than one answer.

“No.” She shook her head with its silken red locks, took her bundle, and left the room.

Of course, she would say no. When she was gone, Jackson and Rush faced each other. “Now do you understand why she has to go?”

“No,” was Jackson’s answer. “Now I see why she needs our help. She’s obviously a danger to herself, Rush. You and I both know that. If we turn her out now, there’s no telling what she might do to herself.”

“Jackson, we are not psychiatrists. We can’t help her. Don’t you think she belongs somewhere where people really know how to help?”

Jackson’s mouth came open in shock. What Rush had just suggested was unthinkable. Where people really know how to help?

“Jackson,” Rush attempted to soothe the effect of his last words. “It won’t be the same.”

“People in institutions do not understand how to handle Shifters. Most of the world still doesn’t even believe High Energy exists. I was lucky to go into the Service. At least they knew what it was. They understood how to handle it. They trained me to use it to…” Jackson choked off those last words as he felt the old emotions wash over him.

“Then take her to the Service.” Rush leapt on his brother’s words. “You were quick to suggest it for me.”

“You’re stronger than she is—”

Rush ignored that comment. “You’re the one who said I had to be trained. You can take her there. Take her to Ronald—”

“Randall—”

“Whatever. He won’t be able to resist getting his hands on someone like her. He’ll monitor her twenty-four hours a day. You can’t do that. Leave it to someone who can.”

The option had not occurred to Jackson. Still, as quickly as he considered it, he disposed of that as an option. “She won’t go there.”

“But, Jackson, you just said—”

“You should see the way they hold Thad.”

“Thad goes voluntarily.”

“Thad realizes he’s a threat to others.”

Rush started to say something but Jackson interrupted. “She is only a danger to herself.”

“You don’t know that—”

“And, I don’t think they will understand how to help her. She’s unstable, but all they will care about is her Talent. They’ll keep her physically alive, but they won’t take care of her mental health.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve told me so many times how they help Shifters deal with their Talents. As you well know, Shifters have a higher incidence of emotional and behavioral problems.” Rush was regurgitating everything Jackson had told him over the years.

“This is different. Bright Star is different. She is vulnerable,” Jackson’s voice broke, betraying his attempt to sway his brother.

“Not as vulnerable as you think.”

“You might have saved her, Rush, but you weren’t there.”

“Why didn’t you call the police, Jackson?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you go after her ‘attackers,’ Jackson?”

“I don’t—”

“Why did it never occur to you to take her to her own home, Jackson?”

Rush’s little brother had no answers.

“Vulnerable?” Rush gave a nasty chuckle. “Vulnerable, Jackson? She’s not fucking vulnerable. She played you like a goddamned piano, man. That woman in there is not Mom.” Rush stated soulfully. “She’s not being persecuted or ostracized for being different. We are not casting judgment on her without all the facts. She is not broken the way our mother was broken. You know Randall Sandoval. He might be an asshole, but he would make sure she was treated well. And she truly is dangerous. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Our mother was not crazy. She was unhappy, very unhappy, but not crazy. Please,” he begged, “don’t get the two of them confused. Bright Star will hurt people.”

“She only hurt herself.”

“She will hurt others,” Rush declared.

“So what? You can see the future, too?” Jackson snarled this with sarcasm. He nearly bit his tongue when his brother only glared his affirmation at him.

“Please send her away or at least get your Service to take her, Jacks. You know Sandoval won’t turn her away once they see what she can do.”

Jackson thought about that long hidden memory. He thought about his mother saving him from the knife and the way she had stripped him of that memory for his own protection. She didn’t want her own special, precious child to look on her with the disdain she’d felt her whole life. He considered Bright Star and her fragile nature. He thought of her lying near dead on a rooftop from self-inflicted wounds. Then, he thought of the rock that was in his pocket at that very moment. He had taken that rock from a man he considered a friend. A man who was now strongly sedated, whose only words from time to time were “my rock.”

Jackson knew what would happen. They would test her, hold her, study her the way they had when he was boy, the way they still wanted to now. They would hurt her and not even know it and expect him to help like he had with Thad. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t. “I can’t do that,” he told his older brother. But, Rush was no longer there.