Things changed after that Saturday night.
I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or just the way things became between us. There was a gap, one that had to be there for me to keep any sort of clear mind when it came to Blake. Though, sometimes, it was almost like it had been before…before everything. We would bicker, and Kat would fight a smile. She would brush against me, and I would feel it in every cell. I would touch her hand or fix her hair, and it would take everything in me to let go.
And there were days when Kat tried, she really did, to cross that gulf between us, but I couldn’t, not when it was so apparent that she didn’t trust me.
There was nothing without trust.
So things changed. We didn’t really talk at school. I left her alone in trig class and at lunch. I saw her in the evenings, and this separation between us was chipping away at a hidden part of me, but I had to draw a line somewhere.
Training sucked up most of our time after school. Not even Dee realized that I was with Kat and him, and I knew what everyone thought at school about Kat. That she was now dating him and everything outside of her “boyfriend” ceased to exist. Keeping shut about that was a struggle as the days turned into weeks.
And as the time passed, Kat…she didn’t look like she was doing too good. Dark smudges appeared under her eyes. She was pale and drawn, always tired-looking. As if she was sleeping as well as me, which meant she wasn’t sleeping for shit.
I sensed an Arum only once since the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I spent nearly every night patrolling. Once, a week ago, when I was near the outskirts of Grant County, I felt the oily, suffocating presence and then it was gone. Nothing since. Not even when Adam or Andrew patrolled.
I had Matthew check out Blake’s records, telling him that I just had a strange feeling about the new kid. Everything Douche Bag had told Kat about where he was from was true. The only thing missing was his uncle’s name, but Matthew explained that wasn’t out of the ordinary.
Maybe what I felt for Kat was blinding me when it came to this kid, coloring my perspective. I didn’t know, but I couldn’t shake the fact that his appearance, his offer of help, was just too easy.
Working with Kat wasn’t accomplishing much. From what she claimed, she hadn’t had any recent unexpected outbursts, and she also wasn’t progressing very far. Douche Bag sucked at training. He talked. A lot. But what he’d said during one of the trainings actually made sense.
“Technically, whenever we use our abilities, we are sending a piece of ourselves,” he’d explained. “Like if I want to pick something up, a part of me is doing that as an extension of me. It’s why using our powers weakens us.” He paused, laughing when he saw Kat’s expression. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
With a bit of my help, Kat had finally been able to move items on purpose. She floated the books on and off the coffee table, and her eyes had lit up like someone just dumped a truckload of books in her lap.
That night had been one of the last nights I trained with her. The DOD checked in the following day, soaking up most of the afternoon. The visit hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. Then Lydia had paid a visit the next day.
On the third night, after school, I hadn’t gone back. Not until tonight. Earlier today, in class, I’d noticed that her hand was bandaged. When I asked what had happened, she had avoided answering. Unease had sprouted, and grown throughout the day.
A horrible thought lingered in the back of my head. Had her training had something to do with her injury? I knocked, and within a heartbeat, the door flew open.
“Hey,” Kat gasped as she stared up at me. She looked more tired than the last time I saw her. “Are you helping tonight?”
My gaze dropped to her bandaged fingers. “Yeah. Where’s Bilbo?”
“Blake,” she corrected. “He’s in the living room.”
I shut the door behind me. “About your hand…”
“I burned it on the stove last night.” She shrugged, staring at the tips of my black boots.
“That…is…”
She sighed. “Lame?”
I didn’t know if I should believe her or be relieved. “Yeah, really lame, Kat. Maybe you should stay away from the stove for a little while?” I sidled past her and walked into the living room.
Douche Bag actually waved at me. “Nice of you to join us again.”
Grinning, I sat down next to him and spread my arm along the back of the couch, crowding him.
“I know you’ve missed me. It’s all right, I’m here.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding real genuine.
Training got started, and I stayed quiet, watching Kat move stuff around. She was getting damn good at it. I was proud of her.
“Moving stuff is just a parlor trick, really,” Douche Bag said after Kat stacked about twenty books without touching them.