The Revealed Page 13

  “A little worried,” he admits. “But to what do I owe this visit?”

  “Do you want to get something to eat?” I ask hopefully.

  My father picks up papers to scan through as he speaks to me. “I wish I could, but we’re working on getting a press release out right now about our plans to extend the borders once I’m elected. We can’t keep ourselves confined in isolation forever.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time, then. I just haven’t seen you in a few weeks and …,” my voice trails off as I lose his focus to the computer. “What are you working on?”

  “Going over reports from the Department of Defense. They’ve got some new intel that could be a promising lead to the location of The Revealed.” He pauses before adding, “That’s between you and me.”

  “Of course,” I say. Who could I possibly tell anyway?

  “We previously thought they were coming from west of the wastelands, but now it seems as though we should be looking south.”

  “Why south?”

  “A group surveying the border talked to a gas attendant clerk who said she saw two Range Rovers coming up from Interstate 11. They stopped to fill up their tanks, then headed north. The group was dressed in black. She said she couldn’t see any symbols that would have confirmed it was The Revealed. But she snapped a couple of pictures. They definitely weren’t civilians.”

  My father flips the computer around.

  The pictures aren’t the best quality, but it’s easy to see a group of six clustered near the pump. They stand with their heads high, looking around the area. A few hold backpacks and cell phones. The cars are in great shape—that and their cell phones are red flags that these people aren’t normal civilians. If they aren’t soldiers, they have to be members of The Revealed.

  “So we’re close then, right?” I ask hopefully. These pictures are solid evidence. They have to provide some leads. This means we could be really close to finding their headquarters.

  “Don’t get too excited,” my father warns. “This is just the first step.”

  The phone rings. I jerk at the loud thrum on my father’s desk. He watches me for a moment, curiosity turning to worry at my skittish behavior.

  Bombs will do that.

  “Hold on just a second,” he tells me and answers. “Jet? I was just looking over the report…. Yes, let’s go ahead and release the photos to the press…. I think so, too. Someone has to know these people….”

  “Sounds good.”

  My father hangs up the phone and turns back to me. “Sorry, Lil.” This is followed by silence as he assesses me. He folds his hands on the desk. “I have to get back to it,” he motions around his desk.

  I clear my throat. I have one more questions for him. “Um … is there any information on Kai?”

  My father sits back in his chair, annoyed. “That boy is bad news, Lil. I wish you’d forget about him.”

  I ignore his frustrated tone. He’s just tired from all this campaigning. But I have to ask, even if he won’t tell me. “You haven’t heard anything?”

  “Lily,” my father says and closes his computer, and now I know the question was a mistake. I’ve gotten under his skin. “Kai Westerfield arrived back home from his mission two days ago. I’ve told you from the beginning that boy is trouble. You shouldn’t meddle with someone like him. His motivations aren’t good. He’s a Westerfield. The rest of the world may be charmed by him, but we know better.”

  I hardly heard anything after the first part.

  “He’s back?”

  “Yes, Lily. He’s back,” my father sighs. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. But you have to know this boy is no good. If the two of you were so close then where is he? Why hasn’t he come to see you? Lily, you are too good for him. And I mean it. He isn’t someone—”

  Turning to leave his office I say, “Sorry, I know you’re busy. I’ll just see you at home.” I don’t give my father the chance to say anything else. I sprint out to the car and practically dive into the front seat.

  “What’s the rush?” Jeremy watches me curiously from the passenger seat.

  My mind is going in about fifty different directions at once. “He’s back.” I wrap my hands around the base of my neck. “He’s back.”

  “You better calm yourself down before you start driving,” Jeremy says, watching me closely.

  I glance over my outfit. Leggings. Boots. A thick cardigan. I don’t even bother asking Jeremy how I look. It’s fall. How else can I look but cold?

  My stomach flips.

  Don’t hesitate. Just do this.

  I throw the car into reverse, and Jeremy holds on for dear life. “Are you trying to get us both killed?!” he yells as I speed onto the road.

  Everything around me is a blur. All I hear on the drive to his house is my heart beating in my ears. Nothing is in focus.

  The excitement carries me to his doorstep where a house attendant answers the door.

  “Ms. Atwood,” the man says in curt recognition.

  “He’s home,” I breathe.

  “Ms. Atwood—”

  I’m sprinting inside the house.

  I run my hands along the iron banister as I make my way to the second floor. All I can focus on is the idea of being close to him. It’s almost as if I can feel him, just on the other side of the crisp white walls.

  But I’ve never been inside this house, and I have no idea which room is Kai’s. As I reach the second floor I begin opening doors.

  Where my house is antebellum, blending in with the Capitol’s terrain, the Westerfield mansion is contemporary, full of sleek lines and sharp angles. The exterior is white and so is the interior, with dark gray furniture and stainless steel detailing.

  “Kai!” I call. There must be at least two dozen rooms. There is even a third floor above me.

  I open a door. Office.

  Other doors are already open.

  I imagine finding him unpacking and running into his arms. He’ll tell me he missed me and apologize for not calling before he left.

  Guest bedroom.

  We’ll leave together right now. And spend the whole night just catching up.

  Bathroom.

  Finally, I reach the door at the end of the hallway and push it open. Instantly, I know it’s his. It smells like him—earthy and clean.

  “Kai?” I ask, gently pushing open the door and stepping inside.

  The bed is made. There’s a chair in the corner with a shirt hanging over the back. An empty duffel bag is on the floor.

  “Can I help you?”

  I jump out of my skin.

  Roderick Westerfield stands behind me. His hands are crossed behind his back. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back, and he wears his typical shiny black suit. He matches the contrasts of the house. He holds himself with such pompous arrogance, raising one eyebrow at me in mock curiosity.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  “I believe that’s none of your business,” Westerfield tells me calmly. “If he wanted to see you, he would have called.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Of course,” Kai’s father replies. “He’s with friends right now.”

  “Friends?” I haven’t met Kai’s friends yet. And that thought alone makes me realize how not-close we really are.

  “He does have friends, Ms. Atwood,” he says, clearly not amused. “Now I would appreciate it if you would allow your driver to escort you to your car. I don’t encourage people barging in on me uninvited—especially little girls with misplaced affections.”

  I look downstairs and see Jeremy standing in the doorway. Suddenly I feel embarrassed. More than embarrassed; I’m humiliated.

  My father’s words weigh on me. Kai doesn’t want to see me.

  “Excuse me,” I mumble as I pass Westerfield.

  As soon as I walk outside, the old house attendant slams the door, and Jeremy takes the cars keys from me. I hardly notice any of it. I stare out ahead at the road as we drive, trying to p
rocess what just happened, from my father telling me Kai was back to the fiasco at the Westerfields’ to this moment, sitting in the car, heading home.

  Kai doesn’t want to see me.

  Jeremy drives me back to the house.

  He’s been back for almost two days and hasn’t even called.

  Why?

  It isn’t until I reach my room and securely close and lock the door behind me that I slide down the wall and onto the floor. My eyes sting and I swallow, fighting back tears. I won’t cry. I won’t let myself give in like that.

  But I don’t understand. How could I have been thinking about him and waiting for him all this time while he was just indifferent? How could these feelings have developed so quickly, only for them to be one-sided?

  As if this day couldn’t get any worse, I glance up to find a black note on my window.

  I don’t even think. I charge at it, ripping it from the wall and shredding it until a thousand little black pieces float down around me.

  “Come on then!” I scream. “I’m right here! I’m right here! Just do it!”

  I repeat those words over and over again until I’m exhausted.

  No one answers.

  No one even comes to check on me.

  And I know I’m alone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There’s a newspaper on the stands today featuring a piece on Kai with a mysterious woman. No doubt his so-called friend. The headline reads,

  Kai’s Back and Ready to Mingle!

  My parents don’t understand—not that it’s anything new. My father hasn’t even been home for the past week. I haven’t seen or spoken with him since he broke the news of Kai’s return.

  I stare up from my computer at my mother, who walks in the door with her arms full of shopping bags. “I have some news,” she tells me. “Your father and I have decided to go on a last-minute campaigning spree. We’ll be traveling to five cities within the next week. We just decided today. Jet said it could be just the golden ticket we need in this race. We leave early tomorrow morning.” She’s beaming.

  “And you want me to stay here?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Well, of course not by yourself.” She waves a hand at me. “Jeremy will be here.”

  “Right.” I don’t know why her announcement pushes me further into a wallowing pit of loneliness. It’s not like she and my father haven’t left me behind before. But I don’t want to be alone now. Can’t she see that? I think about the conversation we had the other day. The progress I thought we made suddenly seems lost.

  “Can I go with you?” I dare to ask, though I already know the answer.

  “Lilith.” She sets her bags down and runs a hand through her hair. “You have responsibilities here. You must keep up with your studies. You know that.”

  I stare at the picture of Kai and the blonde again. It’s only a picture of their backs, but I can tell the girl is beautiful, with her hourglass shape and mermaid hair. Most likely a model.

  The doorbell rings.

  “That must be your English professor,” my mother sighs. “I heard you ditched your classes yesterday, and I don’t want that happening again. Do you understand? We pay a lot of money for those people, and you might as well get some use out of them.”

  I spend the rest of the afternoon blankly staring at The Merchant of Venice on the dining room table. It might as well have been in a completely different language. That night, I eat dinner alone. Mostly, I just stare at the food in front of me and push it around the plate. Rory is off today. She will be off a lot in the next few weeks leading up to the election if my parents are out of town. With my parents out of the house, there won’t be a reason for Ilan to have extra staff around.

  I set down my fork. It clatters against the plate, echoing through the house.

  Everything is eerily still, even though I’m never alone at the house. There are always maids and house attendants in and out. Security works around the clock, but it’s still unnerving, especially knowing The Revealed can slip past them. This house is too big for just a few people. We can’t make up for all the empty, dark space.

  One hundred eighty-eight days.

  I go to my room and get ready for bed, fumbling as I take off my earrings. I’m about to pull my shirt over my head to change into pajamas when I hear a shifting noise. The self-defense reflexes Elias taught me kick in, and I whirl around to fight. There’s a shadow on the opposite side of the room, and I’m still standing with my fists raised. The silhouette is leaning, staring out at the balcony. His back is turned on me, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

  I relax. At least, a little. A new tension sets in over my body.

  I wait for him to turn, as I know he will.

  He stares at me for a long moment, our eyes connecting.

  “Sorry, I …,” he waves to the pajamas still on my bed in explanation for why he’d turned his back to me.

  That’s all I get? Embarrassment at almost changing in front of him is the last thing on my mind. We have bigger issues.

  Should I be angry? Do I have a right to be angry? Should I run into his arms? Should I run away? Call security? Dumbfounded, I just stand there like a dope, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

  There’s something different about him. Something has changed. I can see it in him. He doesn’t look at me the same way. The fire in his eyes is gone.

  “Are you here to tell me you don’t want to see me anymore?” I keep my words stoic, strong. I keep the hurt out of my voice, but it lingers inside me.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “What do you want?” My blood spikes with frustration. He just stands there looking at me. I fill my lungs with air to calm my nerves and shut my eyes tightly. “Can you please just leave?”

  His voice is low but clear. “I came here to explain.” There’s distance between us. Miles of it.

  I ball my hands at my side. “Spare me. I get it, Kai. I saw the magazine cover.”

  “It was a tabloid, Lily. You of all people should be smarter than that.”

  “And the fact that you’ve been ignoring me until now? Is that somehow the tabloid’s fault too?”

  His jaw tightens. “No.”

  “That’s all I need to hear.”

  I’m about to turn my back, but the way his eyes narrow makes me pause. His expression looks pained. He seems hurt. He continues staring at me through the darkness. He’s holding himself so stiff and strong, but I almost wonder if he’s really about to collapse. He’s always seemed so tough to me. Physically, he is. And mentally as well. But now, there’s something different.

  “What happened to you?” My voice barely breaks the silence.

  “I’m sorry, Lily,” he says, “I’m so sorry.”

  Without even thinking, I move to him, wrapping my arms around him. It seems like the natural thing to do. He grips tightly, either pulling me closer or pushing me away. I can’t tell.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. He rests his head against mine. “You don’t know.”

  “Kai, if something happened. You can tell—”

  He presses his finger softly to my lips and pulls my chin back so I’m looking up into his gold-green gaze. Electricity runs through me all the way to my toes, and I hate that I respond to him this way. I hate that my heart is beating like crazy. His thumb traces across my mouth and he replaces his fingers with his lips. His touch is light, but I press against him. He laces his hands through my hair and pulls me closer. His mouth crushes against mine, and it’s suddenly so desperate. I wrap my hands around his shirt. His hands bunch into my hair. Our bodies are flush against one another, and his heat keeps away the chill in the room. But just as soon as I think that maybe everything is okay, he pulls away and untangles his hands from me. He walks to the window so we aren’t touching at all.

  “What happened to you?” I ask again, trying desperately to make sense of this moment. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “No.” His gaze brushes past me as though that one wo
rd is a sufficient explanation.

  “I want to understand, Kai.” I want to be close with him like before. Those feelings are there. The need to be close to him is there, but it’s edged with confusion and pain.

  His expression has darkened again. “You can’t. I need time.”

  “Time?”

  “Away.”

  “Kai—”

  He brushes me off and moves back toward the balcony, slipping off over the ledge and climbing to the ground before I have a chance to say anything else. I watch his shadow until it disappears into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  My tutor, Mr. Shieh, sits with me in the dining room.

  I tap my pen and glance at Jeremy, who stands by the entryway. Ever since the car bombing attempt, he hasn’t left my side except to sleep. Now that my parents have left on their final leg of the campaign, I don’t even think he sleeps.

  Mr. Shieh grabs my pen, halting the drumming rhythm I’d been beating against the table.

  I mutter an apology and hunker down for the remainder of the lesson, watching as halfway through, Jeremy slips from the room. This is his usual pattern. My tutoring is the only chance he has for a break. I was counting on the fact that he’d follow this routine.

  I close the book and Mr. Shieh sputters to a halt. “I’m sorry.” I tell him. “I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

  Mr. Shieh gives me a knowing look, “You’ve already played that card this week, Ms. Atwood.”

  Yeah, well, I need to make it work again.

  “Right,” I tell him. “But this one is actually kind of an emergency.”

  He eyes me warily.

  “You know,” I scramble for an explanation and hit on the only one he can’t, or won’t, argue with, “girl things….”

  Mr. Shieh just raises an eyebrow.

  “Time of the month….” I make a face that I hope displays my awkward embarrassment.

  Mr. Shieh’s eyes light up in the way I knew they would.

  “Well then,” he closes his book as well. “I suppose it won’t do any harm to just pick up tomorrow.”

  It won’t do any harm to never study again. Since life as I know it is nearly up anyways thanks to The Revealed.