I don’t know why I was blaming him. Before he’d shown up, my entire goal had been to get ahold of him. Yet now that I was sitting in the exact place I’d wanted to be, the very sight of him made me want to puke.
Or maybe it was everything he represented.
Everything I hated about myself.
I shrugged and looked out the side window. Same difference.
We were in the mountain pass now, and I could see the summits in the distance where the snow still hadn’t melted and probably wouldn’t, even when the summer temps hit their highest. I wondered how far we’d be traveling, but I was too stubborn to ask.
I continued to run my fingers over and through Tyler’s hair, trying to calm myself as much as to soothe him while he slept. When I finally trusted myself to be reasonable, I leaned forward, closer to the front seat. “Are you sure, Simon, that there’s nothing . . .” Tears crowded my eyes, and I blinked furiously, swallowing hard to get my words out. “That there’s nothing we can do to help him?”
Simon’s golden-flecked eyes sought mine. He didn’t have to answer, but he did anyway. “I’m sorry, Kyra. I know it sucks. I didn’t tell you everything when I told you why I left my family. It wasn’t only because my parents were asking questions about why I wasn’t aging. There was more to it than that.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what he had to say, but I needed to know. “It was my sister. I mean, I didn’t know at the time . . . that it was me. But we were fishing . . . I was teaching her to fish, of all things, and I cut myself. I didn’t even know about the healing thing. But she was there and saw the whole thing. She’d sworn she’d never tell anyone.” He cleared his throat. “Turns out that wasn’t really an issue. Shortly after I’d cut myself, she got sick. We thought it was the flu at first—she had a fever, was vomiting, had a bloody nose. But then she lost all her hair. Within a day she was dead. My folks are Christian Scientists. They don’t believe in doctors, just the power of prayer, so they never even bothered calling for help.” His voice was hard now. Bitter. “They tried to pray the evil out of her.”
I wanted to catch his eye again in the mirror, but he refused to look at me. I wasn’t sure what I felt then, if I hated him still or if I wanted to hug him because he was the only person I knew who understood what I was going through.
I didn’t get the chance to decipher my feelings because that’s when I noticed it, the clumps of hair in my hands.
Tyler’s hair.
I was right about Willow being one of the Returned.
She was also crazy badass. Not like Cat, who gave off a take-no-crap vibe, but more like an I-could-rip-your-throat-out-and-leave-your-carcass-in-a-ditch kind of thing.
Add to that the fact that she had tattoos blanketing both arms and wore sleeveless leather like a biker chick, I was terrified of her. I was also glad she was on our side.
Or on Simon’s side, at least.
She and Simon did this half-handshake, half-shoulder bump thing when we got out of our car at the rest stop and they greeted each other.
Willow eyed me up and down. “That her?” she asked, spitting sideways as she checked me over.
Seriously? She chewed tobacco too?
I’d tried it once, on a dare from Cat because she’d said all the big leaguers did it. I’d swallowed more of the stuff than I could keep between my lip and my gums, and ended up feeling both dizzy and nauseas. After that I decided to stick to sunflower seeds.
As much as Willow scared me, I was far more scared for Tyler, and about losing him. “Help me,” I shouted to both of them. “We need to get going.” I didn’t care that she raised her eyebrows at being bossed around, or that she could easily do that leaving-me-in-a-ditch thing.
Simon nodded to her, indicating that she should do as I said, and she followed his lead. He was definitely the one in charge.
She stopped cold when she bent over and looked inside. “Holy mother of . . . Is he . . . ?” She stood upright again, her arm resting against the top of the car as she eyed Simon. “Are you sure we’re bringing him? What’s the point?”
Simon made eye contact with her over the roof of the car in a way that made it clear they understood each other, and I got the feeling it was for my benefit when he said, “Because Kyra says so.”
Tyler was more alert after he got out of the backseat and puked.
I’ve never really been good around sick people, I guess because I’ve never had much experience with them. But I stayed with him while he gripped his knees for support and heaved over and over and over again.
What came out of him was black and thick and sticky, and I tried to imagine what combination of food had caused that mess. I had to assume it had more to do with whatever poison or pathogen I’d inadvertently passed on to him and was now working its way through his system than anything he’d ingested.
The whole experience probably only lasted thirty seconds, but it felt like hours.
I rubbed his back and said things like “It’s okay,” and “It’ll be over soon,” and “You’re doing good,” which was a strange thing to say because it sounded like I was cheering him on. Like he was competing in the Puke Olympics or something.
When it was over and he’d wiped his mouth on his sleeve, he leaned on me while he stumbled to the ginormous purple truck Willow had brought to meet us. I wasn’t sure how we weren’t supposed to draw attention in that beast, but I didn’t bother mentioning it as I helped Tyler step onto the running board so he could climb inside.
The engine, when she started it, was ridiculously loud, giving the NSA’s helicopter a run for its money. Everything about this truck made me uncomfortable, right down to the fact that we had to shout to be heard, even from inside the oversize cab.
Willow drove, and when she jammed the truck into gear, we lunged from the rest stop parking lot and onto the highway, making our way out of the mountains and into the eastern side of the state, which was flatter and browner and more desertlike than where we’d just come from.
Willow kept her suspicious gaze directed at us from her place in front, as if she expected Tyler—who was sitting upright now—to suffer another bout of stomach-blasting nausea. I couldn’t say she was wrong—he was pale and had a sheen of perspiration across his forehead—but it irritated me, the way she watched us all the same.
“I have the bags,” I snapped, even though she hadn’t said a single word. I waved the plastic grocery bags she’d forced on me like flags, hoping she’d get the point and stop giving us the evil eye.
When she went back to watching the road, I turned to Tyler. My chest tightened painfully.
He was still achingly beautiful, his eyes even more green against the washed-out pallor of his skin, but already his cheekbones were more defined than they should be—even more than they had been just yesterday—and his lips were cracked and peeling.
“Tyler,” I started, but he reached across the space and gripped my hand.
“Don’t,” his voice rasped urgently. He squeezed my fingers tighter than I thought he should be able to, and I felt somewhat better, even if it was foolish to let myself hope. I leaned my head against his shoulder.
Willow interrupted from the front. “So Simon tells us you mend at crazy speeds—that so?”
It was the last thing I wanted to do—make small talk with Willow—especially about myself, but Tyler seemed to perk up just a little. “She totally does. And she can hold her breath forever.”
Simon twisted around so he was facing me, his arm resting on the back of his seat as his eyes devoured me. “Really? How long’s forever?”
“At least fifteen minutes. That’s how long she was trapped in the river.” Tyler met Simon’s eyes, his cracked lips attempting to grin. I hated how breathless he sounded. “She can see in the dark too. Can all of you do that?”