Lina 17
I was a selfish man. Her heart was breaking for him, and all I could think of was that it was one less obstacle. She told Jilsey that it didn’t feel right to be with him. Could I have been the cause? The possibility that I’d entered her life and ruined the thing she had going with him was too strong for me to ignore.
She had my ring, she could see me before her soul left her body, she was born on the same day I’d died—there were too many connections to be mere coincidences. That address in my phone was looking better and better, but I doubted he’d see me without her, and I was keeping her blissfully ignorant at the moment. She had passed out on her bedroom floor. Whether from the rum or the crying, I wasn’t sure, but she was going to feel this in the morning. Jilsey came back to her room and turned the light off when she saw her asleep, leaving Catalina be before crashing herself.
I bloody knew better, but the urge to comfort her, even in this small way, was too strong to fight. I eased myself through her window and shut it quietly behind me. She was a deep sleeper; I doubted she’d wake up. I didn’t make a habit of hanging out around her window or breaking into her room, but I couldn’t be too careful when it came to Tori finding her. I was in the backyard when I heard her start crying. I tried to stay away, despite the churning in my stomach. That resolve didn’t last long, her pull on me too strong to ignore.
I pulled the covers back from her bed and gently picked her up, placing her on her bed and covering her with the quilt. Beautiful—that was the only word I could use to describe her. Here she was, all tear stained, and it just made me want her more to see how deeply she felt for the ones she cared about. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and ran my fingers over her cheek. The solid black star tattoo on the center of my wrist, the one that marked me as a Guide, was an all-too obvious reminder that I shouldn’t be here. That I didn’t belong in this world, or with her. As I was about to pull my hand away, she whispered something, and I froze.
“Telor.”
It was my name; she was saying my name in her sleep. She smiled, and I wanted to crawl into bed, hold her in my arms, and then slip away with the sunrise.
“Telor,” she said again.
If I didn't leave now, I was likely to stay all night. While I had no issue with that, I had to work in the morning. Waking up in her bed, uninvited, would not fare well for my position, either. Maybe I could afford to be a little extra nice to her tomorrow. One day wasn’t going to change things. Taking a last glance at her, I kissed her forehead quickly and left the way I’d entered. As always, the ache in my chest returned the minute I turned my back on her.
There were things that needed to be done tonight, regardless of how utterly exhausted I was. I was hoping that she’d be safe at home for an hour or so. I fished my phone out of my pocket, along with a bag of Lucky Charms— eating was something that often got overlooked—and opened my text messages to find the one I hoped was from Denny.
7809 Pine St. If my memory served me correctly, I was only a few blocks away.
I hustled to the abandoned factory right on the edge of U-Saebo’s campus. It was the right address, but I couldn’t see an entrance anywhere. No lights, no people about, no cars. Fine. I could wait. I’d sit here all night if I had to. Although, I was beginning to rethink the thin jacket I was wearing, the air much too cold for something so light.
Finding a crate I thought could hold my weight, I dragged it to the side of the building, intending on letting the brick wall act as a back to my makeshift chair. Before I could make use of my invention, a figure appeared from the side of the building carrying a bag. The way he held it, made it clear that it was not his. I jumped up and grabbed a piece of wood from a broken pallet that could easily be used as a weapon and stood at the ready.
“Put your stick down, Guide,” he said, thrusting the bag out at me as he approached. The sleeve of his jacket pulled back slightly, revealing a tree tattoo on his wrist. While, my star marked me as a Guide for Death, his tree marked him as a Weaver for Destiny. They basically worked in a sweatshop weaving the fabric of our lives. He had the arrogant aura that all Weavers seemed to possess. “Boss is busy. This should keep you satiated for a while.”
“I need to talk to him, now!” I insisted, dropping the backpack. “It’s important, I can go to him, just tell me where.”
“He’s aware, Mr. Conway,” he said. I didn’t like that he knew my name. “Mr. Smith said to tell you to take the bag, and the next time you attempt a meeting, you better make sure the girl is with you.”
“Leave Catalina out of this,” I growled. “This is my doing, not hers.”
“As if there is a differentiation anymore,” the guy responded, slinking back into the shadows and disappearing, ending our conversation rather abruptly.
Catalina needed to stay as far away from this mess as possible. She was not made for this game. She couldn’t do what needed to be done, and I couldn’t ask her to. I wouldn’t. I jerked the bag off the ground and opened it; a motorcycle helmet, a set of keys, an address, and a phone number.
“What the hell,” I muttered.
My night was going to be a whole lot longer than I’d planned.