Runes (Paranormal Romance, YA,) Page 15

  “Rules suck.” He glanced at me and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I want what I can’t have and need what I shouldn’t need.”

  The cryptic talk made no sense, but then I remembered his words to Andris that night at the club. There’s no room for love and sentiments in this business, just rules and punishment if you break them.

  “Whose rules?” I asked.

  “My superiors.” He snagged my hand again. “Come on, let’s toss coins in the pool and make wishes.” He pulled out mixed coins from his pocket and put some in my hand.

  I walked to the other end of the bridge facing the lodge and threw a penny. Light bounced off the coin as it flipped through the air. It fell in the pool at the bottom of the second waterfall. I wish I could help Torin, so he’d stop hurting. When I turned, he was watching me with a peculiar expression. “What?”

  “What was your wish?” he asked.

  I cocked my brow. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

  The wicked grin came back. He threw his coin and watched it sail to the bottom. Then he chose another, but I grabbed his hand. “Don’t. One wish at a time. If you add more, you’ll dilute the first one.”

  “Says who?”

  “My father.” I stared at the viewing area of the lodge, remembering the first time we came to the falls. I’d skipped to the lodge’s viewing point, almost falling on the steps in my haste. My father had to carry me to the bridge. I smiled. “My family used to come here every summer. This is my first time here in the fall. It’s even more beautiful.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  I nodded, but I didn’t want to discuss my father or I’d end up crying. “Eirik said you were an orphan. Do you miss your parents?”

  He frowned. “Seville said that?”

  Actually, he’d said Torin didn’t have parents. “Yes. What happened to them?”

  “My parents died a long time ago. Do I miss them?” He made a face. “No. I might have at one time. Whatever memories I had of them were erased a long time ago.”

  I frowned. “You make it sound like it’s been gazillion years.”

  “About eight hundred.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the bridge beams, and watched me expectantly. I opened my mouth then closed it without speaking. “I told you I’d give you answers. Ask me anything,” he added.

  “What do you mean by about eight hundred?”

  “I’m an Immortal, which means I’ve lived for a very long time and will probably continue to do so for twice that long if I want to.”

  I tried to see if he was joking, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Are you saying you are…?”

  “Old.”

  I studied him, feeling hurt that once again, he was messing with my head. “Are you done poking fun at me?”

  He sighed. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Do you blame me?” Several people were walking toward us, so I stepped closer to the rail and stared at the waterfalls. Just once I wished he could be honest with me instead of playing games. Sometimes talking to him could be so frustrating.

  “Which part don’t you believe?” Torin asked, coming to stand beside me.

  “All of it. Look at you. You are what? Eighteen?”

  “I was turned when I was nineteen.”

  I blinked. ‘Turn’ was a word I’d heard him use before. He’d told Andris not to turn any more human girls. “Turned?”

  “The moment I gave up my humanity and embraced immortality. I was born in England during the reign of King Richard the Lion-hearted. My father, Roger de Clare, was an earl and a favorite of the king, so I was able to join the army when England established a crusade to fight in the Holy War. It was an exciting time, and every nobleman wanted to be in the crusade or their sons to be part of it. I was only seventeen, and James, my brother, was nineteen. We traveled with King Richard, fought valiantly, and captured Cyprus. I was nineteen when James died saving my life. I gave up the de Clare surname and took up his name. He was a saint.”

  Of course, St. James. I studied his face, my heart sounding loud and erratic in my ears. No one could make all that up. “You’re serious?”

  He nodded.

  He was ‘turned’. “But you’re not a vampire,” I whispered.

  “No.”

  I swallowed, trying to wrap my mind around everything he’d said, things he could do. “What are you?”

  He sighed. “That’s one question I can never answer. I’ve broken enough rules just talking to you. Just accept that I’m an Immortal.”

  “But you promised to answer my questions,” I protested.

  “Some. As for my real identity, you’ll figure it out by yourself.” He sounded sad, like he hated keeping secrets from me, which was very unlike him. He always acted like he got a kick out of shocking me.

  “So St. James isn’t really your last name,” I murmured.

  “It is now. The de Clare line died when I ceased to be Mortal.”

  “But you were a nobleman.”

  He shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

  It explained the trace of British accent. “Now you roam the world as an Immortal doing what?”

  He grinned. “This and that.”

  Once again, snippets of the conversation I’d overheard between him and Andris flashed in my head. “You, Andris, and the girls are here on some kind of a job, right?”

  A wry smile titled the corners of his lips. “You could say that.”

  “And it has something to do with the swim team,” I added.

  Torin stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. Several people were walking toward us. He gripped my arm. “Let’s head back to the lodge.” We started toward the trail. “Who told you about the swim team?”

  I couldn’t tell him I’d eavesdropped on him and Andris. “Does it matter how I know?”

  He became silent as he mulled over my question. “I guess not.”

  “Why are you after us?”

  He frowned. “You could say we’re scouts. You know, we search for talented, athletic people and recruit them.”

  Immortal scouts? Sounded surreal. From his expression, he was uncomfortable talking about it. Still, curiosity egged me on. “Recruit them for what?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t discuss that either. There’s only so much I can tell you without breaking more rules. Ask me anything, except about my job.”

  I sighed with disappointment. “Who turned you?”

  “A woman. She came to the battle field to treat the wounded. The first time I saw her, I thought she was an angel. She had a glow around her. I didn’t know they came from the runes on her body. I’d just promised my brother I’d do my best to survive, yet there I was fatally wounded and dying.” Torin stared into space as though reliving the moment, his expression hard to describe. There was sadness and regret. “She gave me two choices. I could either die peacefully and move on or agree to serve her and become an Immortal. I was stupid and cocky, and I wanted to be by my king’s side when he won the Holy War and conquered Jerusalem. I chose immortality.”

  He became quiet as we walked around the lodge and headed to the parking lot, where he’d left his Harley. “She used the runes to heal you?” I asked, hoping he’d continue talking.

  Torin nodded. “Yes. After that, my wounds would heal every time I was hurt. One night, after a gruesome battle, she told me it was time to intensify my training. While King Richard went home triumphant and my father and mother were given the news of my death, I went to her castle for further training. After several years of mastering the right skills, I became like her, moving from place to place, recruiting more able young men.”

  “What about women?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Don’t give me that look. I didn’t make the rules. Women weren’t involved in wars. They stayed at home while their men went to war, so men were recruited. Things have changed now. Physical abilities aren’t measured by how you wield a sword or how valiant you fight. Skills are tested in a
renas, stadiums, and swimming pools. We’ve adapted, but the objective stayed the same, recruit as many people as we can for the cause.”

  “Which is?” I tried again to see if he would slip up.

  Torin smiled and shook his head. “Nice try, Freckles. Telling you more than I already have has consequences I can’t live with.” He sounded serious, almost apprehensive.

  “Okay, I won’t push for answers. Do you live with her?” I asked, jealousy rearing its ugly head, surprising me.

  “My maker? No. Once I finished my training, she provided me with a place to stay, a cache of gold for expenses, and left. If I had known what I’d signed up for...”

  The loneliness in his voice was hard to hear. I found myself doing something I would not have thought of doing an hour ago. I slipped my hand through his. He froze, then smiled and squeezed my hand. Walking hand-in-hand, I didn’t speak until we reached his Harley.

  “Will you ever finish repaying your debt to her and become free?” I asked.

  “No. This is a lifetime commitment.” He let go of my hand, picked up the helmets, and handed me mine. Our excursion had started on such a happy note, and now all I felt was sadness. His situation was hopeless. Another thought crept into my mind, and a shiver ran up my spine.

  “Did you turn me when you healed me? I mean, will I become like you?”

  “Hel’s Mist no,” he murmured, peering at me. “I know you didn’t believe me when I told you before. You would have died if I hadn’t healed you, but I wasn’t the first one to mark you. I was just as surprised when I saw the runes appear on your body. Unfortunately, they were protection runes against mortal accidents. They’re completely useless against an attack by an Immortal. There are things I cannot share with you, Freckles, but I’d never lie to you about this.”

  Panic coursed through me. “Then who marked me?”

  “I don’t know. But I give you my word,” he added, sounding so formal like the son of an English nobleman he once was. “I will never let you become like me.”

  10. NORMAL

  I’m not going to panic… I’m not going to panic…

  I repeated the words during the ride back home, until Torin pulled up outside his house and turned off the engine. Eirik’s Jeep wasn’t parked outside my house, even though I was ten minutes late. I hoped I hadn’t missed him. I needed to see him. Right now, he represented everything sane and normal.

  “Thanks for everything,” I said, giving Torin the helmet.

  “Any time.” He studied me intently. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes, my hands shaking, my mind starting to shut down. “I can’t deal with all this, Torin.”

  “I understand. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you the truth.”

  “No, I’m happy you did. I just remembered something else. I saw the runes on Andris before you healed me.”

  Torin frowned. “You sure?”

  I nodded. “That kind of confirms that I was marked before, right?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly as though he was reevaluating everything he knew about me, which only made me feel worse. “Who did you meet first? Me or Andris?”

  “You.”

  His frown deepened.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I was afraid he’d marked you and awakened your ability to see magical runes.”

  “And that would be… what? Bad?”

  “Maliina is messed up because of how he turned her. He is…” He shook his head. “He’s reckless.”

  This was all too much for me to handle. “I have to go. Eirik will be here any minute.”

  Something flickered in Torin eyes. Pain? Anger? I couldn’t tell. He recovered and smiled. “Have fun. I hope he knows what a lucky guy he is.”

  I was the lucky one to have Eirik, someone I could depend on when my world was crumbling. I walked away and tried not to look back. No matter how fast I hurried, I couldn’t outrun what Torin had told me. Someone had marked me before he arrived in town.

  Who? Why? Would I end up like him? Alone? Roaming the world? Recruiting people for some secret organization? Probably. Tears rushed to my eyes. No, I refused to be like him. I was Lorraine Cooper, a normal teenager with a normal girl best friend and a normal boyfriend.

  As soon as I entered the house, tears filled my eyes. I leaned against the door and slid down until I sat on the floor.

  A knock rattled on my door. “Freckles?”

  I ignored him, tears flowing faster and faster.

  “Please, don’t cry,” he whispered.

  I didn’t know how he knew I was crying. I just wanted him to go away.

  “Let me come inside, so we can talk.”

  “No.” He could probably use his runes to walk through the door, but I didn’t care. “Go away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Why should he be sorry? It wasn’t his fault. I cried harder. I knew he didn’t leave, knew he felt my pain and confusion on some fundamental level that defied explanation. It was one of those truths I didn’t bother to question anymore. I wasn’t sure how long I cried, but I felt rather than saw him leave. By then I was drained, completely spent.

  Focus, Raine. This is not you. My father taught me to always look for solutions, not let a problem consume me to a point where I became useless. I had to do something. Anything. I looked around the house and focused on the familiar, ordinary things that were part of my daily, normal life.

  I checked my cell phone. There was a text message from Eirik. He was running late. I texted him back then headed to the kitchen to start on dinner. Good thing we were having leftovers. I turned on the oven to warm up the lasagna then started collecting the ingredients for a salad.

  This was normal. This was my life.

  The doorbell rang, and I ran to answer it. Eirik grinned from the threshold, and I laughed. I had never been happier to see him. With his wavy, Chex Mix hair and warm amber eyes, he represented everything sane in my life.

  “Sorry for being late,” he said

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” I leaped in his arms and kissed him. Not a peck, but a full-blown, I’m-crazy-about-you kiss. When I pulled back, Mrs. Rutledge was watching us from her window with disapproval. Yeah, whatever. Eirik was my boyfriend. I pulled him inside the house and shut the door.

  “I should be late more often.” Grinning, he dropped his gym bag on the floor and looped his arms around my waist. “And that kiss makes what I’m about to ask a lot easier.”

  He tried to sound nonchalant, but I saw the uncertainty flicker in his amber eyes. “What?”

  “Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me?”

  We’d skipped school dances the last two years because, well, he never asked me and I never really wanted to go with anyone else. “Are you sure? We don’t do school dances.”

  “Didn’t do school dance,” he corrected. “It’s different now.”

  “It is?”

  He pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re my girlfriend, and I want to show you off.”

  I loved it. Going to the Homecoming Dance was what normal teens did. “That sounds like I’m a trophy or something,” I teased.

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. How about this? You take me to the Homecoming Dance and show me off to the entire school. I don’t want other guys thinking you’re available.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a goofball, and yes, I’ll take you to the dance and show you off as my trophy.”

  He laughed, lowered his head, and kissed me. This time, I let him lead. It started slow and grew intense fast. I put my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. He was safe, dependable, normal, and a great kisser. My arms tightened.

  “Wow,” he murmured when we moved apart. “We should have started dating years ago.”

  “I don’t think you were ready to see me as anything but your childhood friend,” I teased, feeling bad the kiss didn’t have the wow-factor for me.

/>   “Oh, I’ve always liked you this way, but you seemed happy being just friends.” He kissed me again, but I didn’t let him deepen it. I slipped out of his arms, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to the kitchen.

  “Better late than never. I was making salad. Want to help?”

  He wiggled his fingers. Exchanging a grin, I gave him the tomatoes. He knew where everything was and retrieved the cutting board from the cabinet where it was kept. While he sliced the tomatoes, I washed romaine and red-leafed lettuce heads. The familiarity of the scene brought normalcy back to my crazy life.

  When he got a can of black olives from the fridge, opened it, and popped one into his mouth, I pointed my knife at him. “No, you don’t. You cut the onions, mister.”

  “I hate onions.” He popped another olive into his mouth.

  “I hate washing lettuce. Rules are rules. Tomatoes slicer does the onions, too.”

  It didn’t matter how sharp the knife was, his eyes always teared up. I was laughing so hard by the time he finished. Tears ran down his face.

  “I’m so going to make you do this next time,” he vowed then went to the downstairs bathroom to wash his face.

  We added whatever we found in the fridge—olives, pickles, almonds, feta cheese—then tossed it with Italian dressing. Mom was still not home. I placed a tray of garlic bread in the oven and wiped down the counters. Eirik always made a mess.

  We were making out on the couch when I heard Mom’s jiggling keys as she entered the house. We sprung apart.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said, hoping I didn’t look as guilty as Eirik.

  “Mrs. C,” Eirik said in a weird voice. I suppressed a giggle.

  “Good evening, lovely children.” Mom dropped a kiss on my forehead then walked to the other end of the sofa and planted another on Eirik’s. She gripped his chin. “No more jumping over the balcony and sneaking into Raine’s bedroom, young man. You want to date my daughter? You do it the right way. You come and leave through the front door. No more spending the night in her bedroom either. The couch in the den opens into a queen bed. It’s yours whenever you want it.” She straightened and grinned. “I bought pumpkin pie.”

  We stared after her.