Entranced (Goddess of Fate Book 2) Read online

  “Can you help him?” Aaron murmured, his voice soft in my ear.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Matthew had sat down on the pier at the public beach a few yards over and pulled a pile of envelopes from his pocket. Even as I watched, he opened one, removing a letter to read it.

  It’s the small things that get me. Soon the mail would be arriving to a deceased addressee.

  I turned away and pulled out my cell phone. “No. He’s an adult. He belongs to Karta.” I still didn’t know how to contact my sister goddess. “I’ll ask Laima to tell her.”

  I stopped walking so I could send a message. Charlie left us to chase a squirrel, and then returned to collapse at Aaron’s feet, panting. I had just put my phone away when a loud splash came from the ocean behind us. I spun around in time to see Matthew disappear into the water off the end of the pier.

  Aaron whirled around, poised to run. “Was that it?” he demanded. “Did he die by drowning?”

  I shook my head. “No. No, it wasn’t that way. He must be looking for something in the water.” But why would he jump in with all his clothes on?

  We both stood there for several seconds, waiting breathlessly for the man to emerge.

  “Jayne!” Aaron said, shooting an alarmed look at me and taking off toward the shore.

  I stumbled after him, my mind wreathed in confusion. “This isn’t how he dies, Aaron!” I called out.

  “Call 911!” he shouted at me before diving into the water.

  I halted and pulled my phone back out, my hands shaking. “It’s okay,” I told myself. “He won’t die.” He couldn’t. I’d Seen his death.

  I finished dialing 911. When the dispatcher answered, I blurted out, “He jumped into the water by the pier and hasn’t come out yet. And my boyfriend went in after him!” My feet wouldn’t hold still, and I paced a small circle, more concerned for Aaron than the mysterious man. That man wasn’t destined to die this way, but Aaron very well could.

  I gave the dispatcher the address. The woman on the other line kept talking, but I barely heard her. My heart thumped in my ears and I counted the seconds. Breathe, I reminded myself.

  And then Aaron’s head broke the water. He gasped before plunging under again.

  “Aaron!” I cried, dropping the phone and running toward him.

  He bobbed up again, this time hauling something large behind him. My heart sank when I saw the man. “It can’t be,” I whispered.

  I dropped beside Aaron and tugged on Matthew’s arm, helping drag him up the rocky shore. Aaron ripped open Matthew’s shirt and started the familiar chest compressions. I knelt beside them, chewing my fingernails, unbelieving. This absolutely could not be happening. My visions were never wrong.

  Sirens approached, deafening as an ambulance and a firetruck parked next to the commons. Charlie yelped and barked excitedly, and I was shoved out of the way as professionals took over. I looped a finger through Charlie’s collar and stood there staring, waiting for them to breathe life back into Matthew, waiting for him to cough and jerk upright, spew ocean water from his lungs.

  Moving like a movie on fast forward, the paramedics grabbed him up, tossed him onto a gurney, and hauled him into the ambulance. In moments they had closed the door and driven off.

  Someone stepped up to Aaron, asking him questions and writing down what he said. Still I didn’t move. I stared at the spot where Matthew had been. He had to be fine. Whatever was wrong wasn’t permanent. The paramedics would work on him, the doctors would do their best, and he would live.

  “Jayne.”

  I snapped out of it when Aaron hooked his finger under my chin and lifted my face.

  “It’s over, Jayne. Let’s go.” His face was pale and drawn, a weariness in his blue eyes that I’d never seen before. His wet hair clung to the sides of his face, and his fingers chilled my skin.

  “He’s—he’s not going to die,” I said, my teeth chattering. “I know it.”

  “Well, we did what we could.” He started to pull me away from the scene, but I stopped him. I tugged on his arm, my whole body convulsing.

  “I Saw it, Aaron. I Saw it. He was putting up Christmas lights on the house. His wife came out and called him to dinner. And the ladder slipped, and he fell. He fell on the concrete and died. I Saw it, Aaron!”

  “Maybe it was just a daydream.” His voice sounded so tired, so exhausted, but it was his words that pinched my heart. Doubt. He doubted me.

  “No, it wasn’t!” I cried.

  “Jayne!” he shouted, and I cringed at the tone of his voice. “I can’t do this right now. That man just drowned, and I couldn’t save him. I waited a second too long, because you—” He broke off and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  I trembled inside. I knew Aaron was upset, but he didn’t need to be. That man wasn’t going to die. “Matthew,” I whispered. “His name is Matthew. And his wife is April.” I shuddered as the memory of the vision swept through me. I still felt it, as real as if it had just happened.

  Aaron dropped his hand from his face and studied me with bloodshot eyes. Exhaling, he pulled me into his chest and crushed me against him. His wet clothes clung to me. “You’re shaking, Jayne. Come inside, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  “No.” I didn’t want his mom to see me this way. “No.” I searched my skirt for the pocket with the car keys.

  “Let me drive you home, at least, Jayne. You’re in no state to drive.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.” My head buzzed. I needed to get home. Needed to write my theories down and light my sweet pea candle. That one scent could soothe away the trauma of a vision.

  Aaron reached out and clutched my hand. “Don’t go.”

  I glanced up at him and realized he didn’t want me to stay for my sake. There was a haunted, vulnerable expression on his face. I softened a little, but the urgent energy in my heart, the one making my feet tap dance on the gravel, wouldn’t let me stay. I pressed the palm of my hand against his jaw. “I’ve got to figure this out. I have to. Other lives could depend on it.”

  I leaned forward and kissed him, and again he grasped my body, cradling me to him. I knew from the way he held me that I had to go now, or I wouldn’t leave at all. I pressed another kiss to his lips and pulled away, my mind already at home. I’d prove it to him. I’d show him I wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ll call you,” I said.

  He still stood there as I pulled away from the curb. A thread of guilt wormed its way into my heart, but I shoved it aside. Everything would be fine. Matthew would live and Aaron would believe me. He’d see.

  I refrained from texting Laima on the way home, my hands planted on the steering wheel and my attention focused on the road. Last thing I needed tonight was a ticket.

  Mom was at the kitchen table, current home listings and recently sold comps spread around her. She sounded slightly distracted when she spoke. “How was dinner with Aaron?”

  A complete disaster.

  That answer would earn me a long drawn out talk, and I didn’t have time for that. “It was fun. I have a bit of homework, so I’m going to bed.”

  She glanced up at me, but I stayed in the shadowy entryway where she couldn’t get a good look at my face. “Sure. Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Nope. I’m good. Good night.”

  “Good night,” she echoed.

  I took the stairs two at a time. Shutting myself in my room, I sent Laima another text, the only form of communication I had with the goddess.

  So that man I mentioned for Karta. Something crazy happened. He jumped into the ocean instead. That’s not the death I saw. So he can’t die, right? Or did you already send a message to Karta? I needed a way to contact Karta directly. Going in circles like this made me dizzy. I added, BTW, still waiting on Karta’s number.

  I waited a moment for a response, even though Laima often took days to get back to me. I had no idea why. What else did a goddess do in her spare time? The original Dekla (my predecessor) and her si
ster Karta chose to give up immortality and divide their powers among mortals. Not Laima. She continued as an immortal goddess, the same being that had existed thousands of years earlier.

  I lit my sweet pea candle, the third one I’d bought in as many months. Tomorrow I would pull out my green file folder and add Matthew to the long list of names of people whose deaths I’d Seen. But tonight, all I wanted to do was cry.

  I thought of Aaron, the way I’d left him standing there, and the guilt pricked me again. The look in his eyes—I felt like I’d let him down. With a sigh, I pulled my phone out and send him a text.

  You okay? I’m going to bed.

  Aaron wasn’t as attached to his phone as I was to mine, and it had gotten worse since he started college. Still, the desire to talk to him rose up in me. I craved his approval, to know that he still believed in me. I stared at the phone, willing him to text back so I could continue the conversation, but he didn’t.

  I turned out the lights and lay down in bed, facing the wall and pulling the blankets up to my chin. The candle flame cast flickering shadows around my room, lulling me into a hypnotic state.

  The door creaked open and I shut my eyes, feigning sleep.

  “Jayne?” my mother whispered, a crack of light filling my room as she poked her head in. When I didn’t respond, she tiptoed nearer. I heard her exhale as she blew out my candle. She stepped to my bed and smoothed my hair, then left my room, closing the door behind her and plunging my room into darkness except for the crack of light from the hallway. I heard her conversing quietly with Beth in her room before her footsteps carried her back downstairs.

  Mom had been ever so protective of me since my brush with death last spring. My fingers slid up to my neck, tracing the scar I’d carry with me for the rest of my life. I should’ve died that night. That’s what most people do after having their throats slit. But not me. That was the night I found out I was Dekla, one of the goddesses of fate.

  My phone lit up and dinged, indicating a message. I lifted it from its spot beside my pillow and popped it open. It was Laima, not Aaron, and her response was brief and unhelpful.

  The fate of suicides can’t be changed because they chose that death themselves, as you already know. And you are not responsible for that age group. That is Karta’s domain.

  I shut the phone and tossed it away, swallowing back more irritation. Laima hadn’t listened to me, either.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My eyes were sticky and swollen when I opened them the next morning, the new end-of-the-world-disaster alarm I’d set waking me from a sound sleep. My fingers searched for my phone, and I regretted casting it across the room the night before. I finally found it and silenced the offending siren.

  I hopped in the shower before my sister woke up, not wanting to fight over the space, then dressed and ran downstairs to the den. I’d finally given up over the summer and purchased an online subscription to the local newspaper. Sometimes I needed answers, and I needed them right away. Now that school was in session and I only worked weekends, I couldn’t rely on the office to be my news source.

  My heart hammered anxiously while I pulled up the newspaper and did a search for “ocean accident.” Nothing came up. I swallowed hard against my dread and typed in “ocean drowning.”

  It only took a moment for a brief article to come up, mentioning the drowning of one Matthew Henley the previous evening, at an undisclosed location. It stated that he’d been taken by paramedics to the local hospital, where he was pronounced dead after several attempts at resuscitation.

  I sank back into my chair, my breaths coming in quick and short. This made no sense to me. None at all. Six years ago, I’d started Seeing people’s deaths. And then four months ago I’d found out why, and that I could actually change them. Things started to make sense.

  But this didn’t.

  My head spun. I heard my mom in the kitchen, yelling at Beth and me to come and eat. So normal. Yet I felt anything but.

  Was I wrong? Maybe I didn’t understand my gift after all. Or was I really going crazy? Could I have made up the vision?

  I couldn’t eat breakfast and instead busied myself with putting on makeup. I waited till the last possible minute to leave, and then hurried out to my car before Mom could try to talk to me.

  My phone buzzed as Beth put her seatbelt on beside me, and I picked it up. Aaron was calling. My heart skipped a beat, and I silenced the phone. How could I face him after yesterday? What could I possibly say?

  “What’s with you today?” Beth asked.

  “Hmm?” I pulled out of our cul-de-sac and headed toward the middle school.

  “You’re acting all funny. And you just ignored Aaron’s call. Are you guys fighting?”

  I pursed my lips together. “No.” Even to myself, I sounded unsure.

  “Whatever.” Beth lowered the visor mirror and began outlining her eyes in black. “Oh, I don’t need a ride home today. I’m going to Hannah’s after school.”

  I scoured my memory to place the name. “Isn’t she the head-cheerleading girl?”

  “The captain,” Beth said.

  Wasn’t that what I’d said? “Does Mom know?”

  Beth dropped her hand and scowled at her reflection. “For the love of pompoms. Is there something wrong with my friends now?”

  “Hey, I don’t care. I just don’t want Mom mad at me.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shut the visor with a snap. “We’ll be studying. So I can get better grades and make Mom happy.”

  Aaron called again as I pulled up to the drop off zone, and Beth raised an eyebrow at me.

  “You gonna get that?” she asked.

  With a sigh, I grabbed up my phone. “Yes?” I greeted. Beth opened the door, and I waved bye.

  “Jayne, are you all right?” He sounded about as down as I’d ever heard him. Remorse tugged at my conscience for only thinking of myself.

  “I’m confused,” I admitted, pulling out of the school zone and hoping there were no cops watching me. “None of what happened yesterday makes sense to me. But what about you?”

  He exhaled. “That was rough, last night. I—” He broke off, his breathing ragged. When he spoke again, his voice was tight with emotion. “He died, you know.”

  “I know,” I whispered, hot tears stinging my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I just keep thinking,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, “if I had acted faster, maybe—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “You can’t think those thoughts. For whatever reason, he wanted to die. You weren’t going to be able to stop him.”

  “Yeah,” he said. Silence followed, and then he said, “I know you’re on your way to school. I just wanted to ring, see how you are.”

  And I wanted to talk about the contradiction between my vision and reality, but I could tell it wasn’t a good time. “I’m just going to try to get through school today. You should too.”

  “Right. Ring me tonight?”

  “I will,” I promised, and then hung up. I lifted my right hand and chewed on my fingernail as I drove, Aaron’s words echoing in my head. If I had acted faster . . .

  But it wasn’t Aaron’s fault. It was mine. Mine, because I’d been so sure of my Sight that I just knew Matthew would be fine. And I was wrong.

  *~*

  “Hi,” Meredith greeted me before we headed across the street for psychology. “I tried to get your attention in the parking lot, but you were like, not with it. Like just staring off into the sky and distracted. What’s going on? You were zoned.”

  I sighed. “Personal problems.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll get through it,” she said, sliding into the desk in front of mine.

  If only I could be so sure.

  My mind wandered during class. I relived the vision of Matthew, wincing again at the moment when he fell from the ladder and impacted with the concrete below.

  Except it wasn’t real. How could it be? He’d died moments later aft
er he dove into the ocean.

  I buried my face in my hands and tugged at the roots of my hair. I only looked up when the bell rang.

  “See you in journalism!” Meredith called, flowing out the door with the other students.

  “Yeah,” I sighed, wishing I could skip ahead to the end of the day.

  At lunch time I grabbed my customary bag of chips and a soda and went outside. Groups of students milled about in their usual places, around benches, tables, trees. I headed toward the patch of grass where Dana and I always ate, only to see it occupied by a couple of sophomores. For a moment I considered telling them to move. I was a senior, after all.

  But I reconsidered. I was a senior with no friends. How obnoxious to tell someone to move so I could sit by myself.

  Instead I plunked down on a bench and called my best friend.

  “Jayne!” Dana squealed when she answered. Loud noises and shouts echoed behind her, as if she were at a basketball game. “So glad you called!”

  I smiled, feeling my spirits lift already. “Oh, Danes. It’s so boring here without you.” And lonely, and miserable.

  “Sorry,” she said, and I could tell she was covering the phone with her hand. “It’s so loud. I can’t hear you very well.”

  “Where are you?” I asked loudly, hoping I wasn’t shouting. “The gymnasium?”

  “No, you goof. I’m outside, sitting in the square. The weather’s so lovely! And there’s a bunch of kids putting on a skit. It’s fabulous!”

  I could picture her soaking up the Massachusetts sunshine, her perky blond ringlets bouncing around her tan face. The ache in my chest deepened. “I’m at lunch,” I said. “I miss eating with you.”

  “Jaynie, I miss you too! What? No, no, of course you can sit here!”

  I paused for a moment before realizing she’d spoken to someone else. Someone there in real life. “You still there, Dana?”

  “I’m sorry, Jayne, I have to go. I’ll call you later, hon! Love you!” She hung up, and silence reigned in place of the cacophony of sounds that had escaped from her world.

  “You too,” I echoed, my heart plunging back into loneliness.