Her mom's intake of air said a lot. "I ... I thought I explained that?"
"Yeah, you explained that you were so in love with my father, and now you claim you hardly knew him."
"I ... I don't think this is something we should discuss over the phone."
"Really? That's sort of how I felt about telling you about the Brightens." Another few tears rolled down her cheeks.
She hung up so angry she almost wanted to throw the phone down. She didn't, but she did turn it off just in case her mom tried to call back.
"I'm sorry." Lucas's words came behind her.
She wiped her tears away again and turned around. She hadn't known he was so close and unintentionally ran right into him. Her face landed on his oh-so-perfect chest. His arms, warm and gentle, came around and held there for two or maybe three seconds before she pulled away. Just long enough to remember how good it was to lean on him-to recall how good it had been to be able to count on him.
Just long enough for her to come to her senses and remember she shouldn't be leaning on or counting on him anymore.
* * *
The following Friday, almost midnight, Kylie lay in bed staring at the ceiling, playing mind games with her issues. Round and round they go, which one to fret over, nobody knows.
Her mom, whom Kylie was talking to but was still mad at, and her seemingly impossible quest to save the teen chameleons.
Her completely impossible ghost and the impossible and infuriating Lucas.
And an unbearable longing to talk to her dad again, who she hadn't felt or heard from since right before the Brightens' visit.
And last, but for sure not least, an impossible rogue, whose threat still rang in Kylie's ears. You will come to me, Kylie Galen, come to me willing to die, to suffer at my hands for my pleasure, because the price will be too great! Your weakness will take you down.
Right now, Kylie's weakness seemed to be her inability to figure anything out. Everything in her life felt as if it were in limbo.
The only issue Kylie felt productive in this last week was her skill at using the sword. At times she wondered if her good feeling about that wasn't just because of Lucas. Being with him for an hour or two a day.
Oh, she hadn't succumbed to any of his advances. Subtle things, like walking so close that his shoulderbrushed up against hers, his tactic of showing her a move by standing behind her and guiding her through a certain stance or motion. And then there were his not-so-subtle advances. They would be sparring with the wood swords and he'd just pop out with something like "I still love you" or "Do you know how beautiful you are?" or "Do you remember the night we were coming back from the graveyard and we almost made love?"
She'd broken three more wooden swords when he said those things, too. One would think he would learn to keep his mouth shut. But nope. Lucas had even laughed the second time she'd done it. He didn't seem to care that his comments ended up with him having to replace another sword. And she knew that for a fact when the very next day he said something else that ended with her breaking the third sword. Not that she was doing it on purpose; it was just so dang hard not to let her emotion come out in her blows.
Today when they had been leaving, she'd called what they were doing "fencing" and Lucas had corrected her. He told her that she wasn't learning to fence. That entailed a completely different set of skills. She was learning to fight. He didn't say it, but she read his thoughts. She was training to kill.
But who?
And how? Oh, she knew it would happen with a sword, she just didn't know how she would be able to do it. To really take a life.
Letting go of a deep breath, she rolled over, gave her pillow a thump of her fist, and recalled Collin Warren when she'd tossed him across the room. Her intent hadn't been to kill but to protect. She hadn't killed him, but she could have.
And maybe that was how "this," whatever "this" was, would go down. Maybe if her protective mode was in gear, she'd be able to do it and not think. But when she thought about it afterward, would she be able to live with it?
Perhaps if it was to save someone she loved.
Or to kill someone you loathe.
The cold washed over her. Kylie sat up and the ghost sat at the end of her bed holding her sword. Kylie had seen her every day while practicing with Lucas. She would show up and complete the exercises with them, but no matter how hard Kylie had tried, she hadn't spoken once.
"Who do I loathe that much?" she asked.
You know, the ghost said.
"Tell me, damn it! I'm tired of your games!"
Della, looking half asleep, burst into Kylie's room. "Are you okay?"
"Yes!" Kylie told her. "Go away!" When she didn't do it immediately, Kylie said, "It's a ghost issue."
Della shot out. But when Kylie looked around the ghost was gone. "Who do I loathe that much?" she repeated her question. The ghost didn't return, but suddenly Kylie knew. She knew with clarity.
Mario.
She was supposed to kill Mario.
Deep down she'd known this was going to happen. Known that they would face each other again. What she didn't know was how in the hell she was going to win against him. He'd had years to build his powers. How could she match that?
Then another question filled her head. Did this mean that Mario was who the ghost wanted her to kill?
How was she connected to Mario?
Chapter Thirty-one
Saturday morning, standing in the dining hall, Kylie waited for her mom to show up to parents' day. She hadn't said anything about John coming, but Kylie didn't know if that meant he wasn't, or if she didn't feel the need to ask Kylie if it would be okay. She really prayed he was a no-show. Already feeling as if her relationship was on shaky ground with her mom, she didn't need John around.
On the other hand, Kylie's stepdad had to leave town on a business trip and wasn't going to make it- which was fine with Kylie. Without him, the combustion level would at least be lessened a degree. She hadn't stopped loving Tom Galen, but right now the father figure Kylie ached to see was her real father.
Ever since the Brightens' visit, Kylie had been longing to spend some time with Daniel. Almost every night before bed she'd pull out the photo album the Brightens had left her, and nearly every night, she'd end up crying. Feeling as if life had cheated her.
Cheated him, too.
Kylie watched a few parents stroll through the door. Miranda's parents walked in and found her waiting, prim and proper-like, at a table. Seeing Miranda like that felt wrong, like wearing your shoes on the wrong foot.
Miranda's mom sucked all the confidence and personality out of the witch. That was just so wrong.