“Um, we’re about to close?”
Glancing up, David saw the cashier standing near the counter, her fingers wrapped around the broom handle. Her hair was falling in her eyes, and she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the soles of her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. This was another thing David had learned in the past two months. People were scared of him. It was probably more than the voice or the sunglasses: People could sense that there was something wrong with him, that he was something way past normal.
“Right,” he said, gathering up the remnants of his meal, squashing his fries in the paper that had wrapped around his burger. Sliding out of the booth, he grabbed his tray and walked over to the trash can, pretending not to notice the way the girl moved closer to the counter.
It had been stupid to come here. Not only had he wasted money he really didn’t have on food he barely ate, but now he’d freaked the girl out, and he hated that. David wished he could say it was because he didn’t like scaring people, but the truth was, he didn’t like being reminded of what he was. The more time he spent alone, the weirder he felt when he had to join the public.
It felt worse now than it had before. Back in Pine Grove, he might have been an Oracle, he might have had the glowing eyes and the occasional vision, but he’d had friends, too.
He’d had Harper.
Then there was the other part. The other truth. The reason he was spending so much time alone these days, no matter how many times he told himself that he couldn’t be sure what had happened those other nights . . . to those other girls.
Hands shaking, he tipped the remains of his dinner into the trash, already planning out what he would do when he got back to the motel that night. Put the few things he had back in his bag, see if there was any extra change around the vending machine, and get the heck out of—
Then the pain came on, fast and immediate, and so intense he felt like he might actually die from it, like you couldn’t hurt this much and not die.
Blood on a yellow dress, the taste of salt on his lips. More blood? Tears?
As if from a distance, David heard the clatter of the tray hitting the ground and gritted his teeth against the sudden fire inside his brain. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the girl moving closer. Even though he’d scared her, she was still coming to help him, concern overriding her fear.
People were better than you’d think they’d be. Another lesson from the road, and one that broke his heart now.
She was just at his elbow when the golden light shot out of his fingertips, sending her reeling back, her broom flying from her fingers to smack against the glass doors, her lips parting with both the shock of her fall and the jolt of power David had just sent her way.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was his and not his at the same time. “I didn’t mean to.”
He said that every time.
Chapter 1
“IT’S WRONG that I’m kind of hoping someone starts to drown, isn’t it?”
From her spot in the lifeguard chair next to mine, my best friend, Bee Franklin, took a sip of Diet Coke, her shoulders lifting underneath the straps of her bright red bathing suit. “It would be if I thought you really meant it,” she answered, and I sighed, pushing my sunglasses back up the bridge of my nose.
It was mid-July, the weather was End of Days hot, and the large rectangle of cool turquoise water shimmering beyond my chair looked like it would feel amazing. But, if I were being honest, I’d have to admit that wasn’t the only reason I wished someone might get into some aquatic danger.
I was bored.
Turns out, being a superhero with no one to save is something of a bummer. I was a Paladin, a kind of magically charged knight, my sworn duty to protect the Oracle. Only problem was, the Oracle was my ex (well, one of my exes) and he’d taken off nearly two months ago, leaving me with no boy, no Oracle, and a whole summer with nothing to do stretching out in front of me. I’d never really liked summer vacation. I was always happiest doing things, being involved in projects, and throwing myself into as many school activities as I could manage.
Sure, there were other things to do in the summer. I’d tried camp when I was younger, but that hadn’t worked out. (I might have made a good counselor at some point, but I was not cut out to be a camper. Bug spray, no private showers, and outdoor “plumbing”? Yeah, no.) I’d helped my mom teach Vacation Bible School for the past few years, but that was mostly grabbing glue and glitter from the supply closet or reading the occasional picture book about Jonah and the whale. No, what I needed for this summer—the last one before high school ended—was something meaningful, something . . . distracting.
Hence the lifeguard gig.