Gifted Ones

Chapter 17 Haven

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, afraid of closing my eyes. Considering the last few times I've been unconscious, I have a right to be scared. Most of my recent unconscious delusions have resulted in pain, suffering, and fear. I don't want to live through it again.

After the clan arrived at the hotel we gathered in the main bedroom to get first aid for any injuries. Tyler was in the worst shape. He had gotten stabbed in the side with one of the skeletons' spears. There wasn't much we could do, since the Mages were too spent to heal anyone, but Joshua promised to patch him up in the morning. After I got my partially slit wrist bandaged up, I spent the rest of the time huddled in the corner like some sort of bat. Garret explained how the clue wasn't a riddle this time, but just a piece of paper that said "Stonehenge" and this odd set of directions on what to do once we got there. He said that we would get there ourselves, using our Flyers. I briefly wondered how they will be able to hold our weight, but then decided not to question it. In the meantime, we ordered room service and spent the rest of the evening in quiet reflection and mourning.

Now I've been awake and staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. It's eleven o'clock, and I can't sleep at all. I just keep remembering the trial, Jonathan's death, the casket, the skeletons. . . Both Kara and Margot are dead to the world, the sound of their soft breathing steadily filling the room. I am envious of them. I've always had trouble going to sleep when my head is busy, and tonight is worse than usual. My emotions are all over the place and I can't clear my mind enough to relax.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, steadying myself against the dresser. My throat feels dry and scratchy. I need water. Carefully I pick my way across the room towards the bathroom, quiet as to not wake the others. My foot trips on something and I stumble into the door, looking down to see be of Kara's shirts on the floor. Man, that girl is messy. Shaking my head, I open the bathroom door and step in, groping for the light switch in the darkness. I find it with my fingertips and flick it on. But as the room is flooded with light, I am surprised to see Anne sitting against the wall, her legs pulled up to her chest and her head on her knees. She winces in the sudden brightness, looking up
to see who it is. I step back, taking in the limp, knotted hair and mascara streaked down her face. The bottomless brown tone of her eyes is surrounded by bloodshot red, the skin puffy like she's been crying.

"Anne?" I ask. The blue tank top she wears is still smeared with dirt from the cave and her black sweater hangs off one shoulder carelessly. Her jeans are torn as well, and not in the common, artfully designer way. She looks like a completely different person than when I first met her a few days ago, all high heels, long nails, and North Face jackets.

"What?" She snaps. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry, I just went to get water. Why are you here?"

"Why the Hell do you think?" She wipes at her eyes and pulls up her sweater, trying to fix herself up the best she can from the floor. "You don't deserve to be with us, you know. You're just a human. If it wasn't for you, Nate would be here right now."

"What?" I ask, appalled.

"Any of us could have solved the puzzle faster than you. If you had given the damn thing to Matthew he could have finished it in thirty seconds. But you were too slow, and they overpowered us. And that's why my brother died. Because of you!"

"Anne, I tried as hard as I could, I just-"

"THREE SECONDS! You could have gone three seconds faster, and he would be alive right now! It should have been me! I should have protected him! But he died instead, because you were too slow!"

"No," I whisper, begging her with my eyes. Slowly I back up until I hit the wall behind me, my hands out as if they can protect me from her words. Each one is like a small knife to my chest. She's right, really. I could have saved him, and it's my fault, completely my fault he died.