Veronica called to see if I wanted to hang out, but I told her I couldn’t. The incident with the whisperer in my car was too fresh on my mind. I promised her we’d see each other before she left in five days. I hoped I could keep that promise.
My anxiety was rising. Dad hadn’t contacted me or sent his ally spirit, Azael, with any messages. I hated waiting. By the end of day three I’d bitten off all my pretty fingernails. I’d seen a whisperer every day. Each day one would find me, swoop down, circle me, and leave, as if monitoring my location. The only good thing was that after they spotted me, they left me alone.
On day four, after my daily whisperer sighting, I went to see Veronica.
“I can’t stay long,” I said. All of her bags were packed in her room, and stuff was lying around with the look of someone in the midst of moving. Something inside me ached at the sight.
Close to Veronica’s chest, like a thin band around her, was a deep, blue sadness. On top of that was a fizz of orange excitement with a sprinkle of gray nervousness. Emotions were funny things.
I reached for her hand and she took it, then looked down at my fingers.
“What did you do to your nails?”
“Oh . . . I’ve been kind of stressed.”
“Sheesh, Anna! You could’ve at least cleaned them up with a file. Can I do your nails? For old times’ sake?”
“Sure,” I said.
Her dark, thick hair had been recently cut and blown out in a voluminous style around her jawline. I memorized the look of perfectly drawn eyeliner around her almond eyes, the slant of her regal nose.
We sat down on the floor with her basket of polishes.
Veronica talked to my nails. “Don’t worry, you poor things. Roni’ll take care of you.”
She gently filed the messy nubs, and I bit back a wave of emotion.
“How’s Jay?” she asked without looking up.
I cleared my throat. “He’s . . . okay. How are you?”
“I’m okay, too, I guess. It’s weird, though. I miss him. But I feel like I don’t have the right to call him anymore. It’s hard to stay friends after you’ve been together.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I wonder if you’ll meet someone in Spain.”
She grinned up at me. “We’ll see. I don’t want anything serious, but I’m counting on a lot of hotties in my near future.”
“I’ll miss you,” I said.
She patted my hand. “Don’t get sappy. No tears. Just think of me when you do your nails, ’kay? And for God’s sake, don’t bite them anymore.”
My poor nails were the least of my concerns.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARNA
I missed Kaidan like crazy. It’d only been five days since our video chat, but it felt so much longer. We were trying to stay cautious—to chat only when we knew it was safe, but it was hard.
I was tired of bouncing around to different hotels every day, hanging out in their gross bars sipping Cokes so that if whisperers came I could jump into action. I was only eighteen, but I had a fake ID to buy alcohol if necessary. I was bored, lonely, and impatient, waiting for Dad to give me the thumbs-up to leave for Virginia Tech.
I was surprised to see Ginger’s number calling me that afternoon as I sat in my hotel room, reading about a swoony alien guy. Books were about the only thing that could distract my anxious mind.
“Is she with you?” Ginger asked, sounding frantic. “She” was obviously Marna.
“No.”
“Shite! She snuck off when we got stateside.”
I set down my book and sat up. “Are you here?”
“No. I’m in Newark, the armpit of the bleedin’ world. Will you find out if she’s with your friend and call me straight away?”
“Okay.”
We hung up, and I called Jay. It rang so many times I thought voice mail would pick up, but then he answered.
“What’s up?”
“Is Marna with you?” I asked.
“Um . . .” He got quiet.
“That’s a yes.” I sighed. This was not good.
I heard Marna say in the background, “Argh! Just tell my sister I’ll be back in time for our morning flight!”
“She just wanted to know where you were,” I said.
“Well, she’s suffocating me. I don’t have to answer to her.”
“Dude,” Jay said. “How can you two hear each other when the phone’s at my ear?”
We both got quiet.
“I’ll tell her she’s okay,” I said, and then hung up.
Ginger answered immediately and I told her, “She’s fine. She’s working here tonight, but she’ll be back in time for your flight in the morning.”
“Ugh!” Ginger screamed into the phone, and disconnected.
Four hours later I was sitting on a stool in a bar, playing a game on my phone and ignoring the stares from two men when Ginger called again.
“We need to meet so you can take me to them,” she said. “This has to stop.”
“You’re here? I don’t think this is a good—”
“Just meet me.” She sounded desperate.
We met in front of the superstore in Cartersville. We both stepped out of our cars into the humidity, searching the skies and crossing our arms.
“Take me to her,” Ginger demanded.
I hesitated.