Marc in the grass

This scene comes almost directly after the last, so you haven't missed much. I've edited it down a lot, because it comprises almost an entire chapter, but I couldn't really find a good place to separate it into individual scenes. Sorry! Stick with me. :) This means that it's extra long, but it's worth it, I think! I had the most fun writing this scene and even more fun rereading it. Here's what you've missed: They gang goes searching for Marc in the field, but cannot find him. So for several days Dakota sits on the back porch waiting for Marc to come back. Eventually, this is what happens:

I sprang to my feet, whipping my head from side to side. The sun peaked over the edge of the field, melting the violet light to pink. Twenty feet in front of me, where the shadow woman had appeared, a ghostly white fog floated almost invisibly. I sucked in a breath, gripping the banister of the porch, and Marc popped into existence, kneeling on the grass in front of the fog.
Screams filled the air, jagged and blood curdling. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, tears leaking from underneath his blonde eyelashes. He scrambled away across the ground, clawing at his skin as if to remove some clinging substance. He screamed savagely into the dawning morning, the terror in his voice turning my blood to ice. He drew deep, ragged breaths, only to cry out more desperately again. He clawed at his arms, raking long, red lines into his skin. I scrambled forward toward him, his screams cutting through the air. I grabbed his shoulders and he lashed out, the heel of his hand connecting with my jaw. I staggered back but swooped down again toward him. This time I locked my arms tightly around his middle, holding his arms down against his sides. He didn’t fight, but went limp against my body, sobbing into my skin. I rocked him in my arms, my own tears streaming into his hair. Haylee and Peter stood white-faced in the distance as Marc cried himself hoarse and drew raw, gasping breaths as he clutched franticly to my shirt, my skin, my hair. Peter lifted him heavily over his shoulder and carried him to bed.
All that day and night I sat with him, whispering to him over his cries and laying my trembling hands against his face. A long time later, when a second dawn was breaking outside, he fell silent, his chest rising and falling with the blessing of an equal rhythm. I crawled under the covers and wrapped my arms around him, humming softly and pressing my lips against his neck. Soon after, I fell asleep.
We watched and listened as the streets below were filled with vicious war cries. The shadow people filled the streets, tearing at each other and screaming out against the sky. The city lay in ruins, trampled and torn apart by the insatiable violence of these beings. They ripped apart the world and consumed everything around them. Marc’s voice raced across the wreckage, firm and strong, Spirits, rest. The shadow people grew still, a ghostly fog creeping over their shimmering bodies, and they were gone. The city built itself up and the world knew peace.
We stood at the edge of a mass grave, the fortress of a prison rose into the gray sky behind it. In the ground beneath us, body upon body lay stacked in the night. These criminals and wrong doers knew no peace in this place, guilty or not. Their presence remained, unable to move forward, incapable of passing on. Their sins flashed against the sky, an imprint of their crime, repeated forever until they could find the way forward. Marc whispered into the night, his voice tender and sad, Spirits, rest. The bodies disappeared, the imprints faded, their souls sped off to whatever awaited them, finally able to leave their broken lives behind.
Marc stood at the edge of a river, a content peace in his eyes though his forehead remained creased. Flowing between the banks behind him, the same ghostlike mist surged through the night like water. He wore thick brown shoes with golden wings attached at the ankles, softly beating against the cool air. He looked out across the banks and the words filled my soul.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
His name was like a song, a prayer, a promise. It whispered through the night with the assurance of safety and sleep after a journey through the deepest parts of the world.
Mercury.

When Dakota wakes up, she is initially terrified that Marc isn't there, but is quickly informed by Haylee that he is alright and taking his third shower of the morning. When he's finished, he and Dakota have a very interesting chat.

“What happened?” I demanded. He took a deep breath.
“When I touched her, we vanished to the underworld.” I blinked, stunned.
“Run that by me one more time,” I spat out. He laughed again.
“As soon as my hands touched her, we disappeared. It went dark for a second and then I opened my eyes. We were standing on the bank of this huge river and then she kind of... sank into the mist. I walked in the other direction for a while, down this path. There were flowers everywhere and everything was quiet. Then the path opened out into this huge meadow. I could hear voices talking and laughing. I couldn't see any people, but I knew they were there. The air was full of wonderful feelings and thoughts and memories. It was joyful and peaceful. At the end of the valley there were two thrones. They were both empty, and the bigger one was blank. That one must be for Hades, whoever or wherever he is, because he wasn’t there. But the littler one was for me, because it had my name on it. Well, not my name, but-”
“Hermes,” I finished. He smiled with pride.
“Well, Mercury, actually. The Roman name. The god who guides the spirits to the underworld. He’s the only one who can pass between both worlds, because he’s so fast. Except... not all souls need guiding.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The good souls know how to get there. It’s just the... other ones. The ones who have gotten confused and lost. They just remain here if they can’t figure it out on their own. Some want to stay, they want to continue to wreak havoc as long as they can. But others... they’re stuck. They want to repent but they can’t move on and they can’t find peace. They're unable to leave their sins behind until they pass over.” He shivered. “It’s horrible.”
“What about Hades?” I asked.
“He’s supposed to keep order. To make sure the right people go where they're supposed to. I don’t know what will happen if he doesn’t come soon. The river was already getting out of control.” He furrowed his brow.
“The river?” I asked. It was amazing how easy and normal this conversation seemed for him. It didn't seem real, yet he was so sure. After everything that we had all seen, I wondered if I would ever feel the same easiness about it.
“Remember what I told you about the meadow?” I nodded. “Well, the river is the opposite. That woman went into the river because she was an evil, violent soul. It’s where the bad memories go,” his face was dark and cold, “all the terrible things. Every hardship and pain, it ends up in the river. It’s mist or fog, not like regular water. It’s like... thoughts and experiences. They float along and remain there, trapping the evil souls at the bottom. But the souls try to come back up. I can’t stop them, I have no authority there, and until Hades comes...” he trailed off, his voice low. I shivered at his expression, he stared off into the distance. I was terrified of what he saw there. “I tried to get myself back. I touched everything in sight, trying to vanish myself again into this world. I touched the throne, the grass, the trees, the path. And then... and then I touched the river.” He shivered and hugged himself together. “I heard voices in my head. Memories and terrible thoughts. On the other side of the bank, the mist parted and I saw the corn field. I saw the way back. I saw you sitting on the steps waiting for me. I knew... I had to swim.” He closed his eyes and continued in a rush, the words flowing out of his mouth in a pained urgency. “ I jumped in and started swimming. I can swim fast, too, but it wasn’t fast enough. I could hear and feel all of the horrible things trapped there. The thoughts clung to my skin and my clothes, dripped from my hair. I tried to brush them off, but they wouldn’t leave.” I remembered him in the yard, clawing at his skin. He had taken three showers to try and wash away the memories. “I heard... I heard my dad and felt all of his grief at my mother’s death. I thought that I would die. I almost hoped I would. I thought that I would never make it across. I suppose a normal person wouldn’t have, but since I’m so fast... After what felt like years, I pulled myself up on the other bank and fell back into this world.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me for a long time, his face twisted in pain and sadness. It was impossible, the things he was saying, all of this. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. But suddenly, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if it was all a dream, as long as he was here. He lifted his hand and brushed it against my jaw where I was sure a bruise had bloomed from his attack the day before.
“I’m sorry I did this to you,” he whispered. I took his hand.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said truthfully, touching my jaw.
“Not just that. All of this. I’m sorry that I left you and made you afraid. When I saw you sitting on the step, waiting... You were so afraid. I’m so sorry to have hurt you.” I brushed my hands through his hair.
“I forgive you,” I promised him. “As long as you give me a ride on those sweet winged shoes.” He threw his head back and laughed, his eyes sparkling. As he squeezed my hand, a scream split the air from the barn.
We jerked our heads in the direction of the sound, but were drawn to the end of the yard instead. Pouring through the edge of the cornfield, ten shadow people strode toward where we were sitting. Peter and Haylee stood frozen in the doorway of the barn, their eyes wide in their pale faces. The shadows didn't pay them any attention, but continued toward the house. We were outnumbered. Marc pulled me up and placed himself protectively in front of me again. They halted, pausing in the middle of the yard. They stared at Marc with hungry, red eyes, seeming to evaluate him. “They know,” he whispered, terror in his voice. A big man in the middle held a long stick of wood in his hand. As I stared, I realized that it was a baseball bat. He placed the rounded end in his palm and dug his nails into the wood. A groaning screech split the air and wood shavings fell from his hand to the ground. He had sharpened the end into a deadly point. He thumped it against his open palm ominously.
“What do they want?” I choked in a whisper.
“They want to make sure I can’t send any more of them back,” Marc replied. From the corner of my eye I saw Peter step forward from the door of the barn.
“Don’t, Peter!” Marc called as two of the shadow men snapped their heads toward his movement. “There are too many,” he said in a whisper to no one in particular. The sun shone through a cloud and the group before us seemed to dance and shimmer in the light. Marc stepped forward.
“No!” I cried, and reached out toward him, trying to pull him back. A little fire sprang up on the porch in front of me, blocking my way.
“Thank you, Haylee,” Marc whispered gratefully and took another step toward them. They seemed to shift slightly, forming a half circle around him as he approached. “They will be distracted by me, and you will all run,” he said as he inched still closer.
“No chance,” Peter said from several yards away. He had made his way over to a hose and was flipping the spigot on. Marc seemed to understand and did not argue.
“When I say go.” The shadow figures closed their circle around him. He lifted his palms up in front of him as if in worship. “One,” he said. The shadow man in the middle raised his bat. “Two.” The shadows closest to him seemed to crouch forward as if ready to spring. “Three,” he whispered. A body on either side of Marc leapt forward and he threw his hands out. Their forms slammed into his palms and vanished. The sound of rushing water filled the air. The big man holding the bat knocked a smaller woman backward, trying to clear a path to Marc. A solid wall of water crashed into her, crushing her against the ground and dragging her back toward the cornfield. Two more shadows sprang toward the center of the circle and vanished. Only half remained. A stocky boy in the rear ranks burst into flames and fell to the ground. The big man swung the bat with terrifying force, parting the air. The wood connected against Marc’s calf with a ear splitting crack. He fell to one knee. The air was still for one moment before my screams split the sky. Two more shadows attacked. Marc caught one by the throat, vanishing him. The other swiped at Marc’s chest, leaving a deep gash against his skin. Marc grabbed the shimmering wrist as he lifted his hand to strike again. The angry face flickered and disappeared. The fire surrounding me had died, but all I could do was fall to my knees, crying out.
The last remaining woman backed away slowly, her red eyes wide with fear. The flaming shadow figure was crawling back into the refuge of the cornfield and she raced off after him. Only one remained. The big man swung the bat at Marc’s face. Marc jerked his head away at the last second, but it was too late. The pointed edge of the wood caught the soft skin of his neck just under his jaw. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt and spilling across the grass. He crumpled into a ball on the ground. The man cocked the base of the bat toward the sky, aiming the sharp point over Marc’s heart. The air shivered, my sobs pounded against the field and echoed back with strangled mockery. My pulse slowed in my veins, turning to ice. My palms tingled as I clenched my hands into fists. My tears burned my skin and a soft breeze lifted my hair. A voice whispered on the wind, not yet.
The ground began to shake. The shadow man stumbled, lowering his weapon. Several feet away, in the shade of the apple tree, the grass exploded and dirt rained down over the yard. Huge, thick roots rose into the air and swung wildly. One reached out and wound its way over the top of the big man’s baseball bat, yanking it away from his grasp and shattering it to pieces. All around Marc’s body the grass rose in thick waves, guarding him from view. The shadow yanked desperately at the rapidly spreading grass, ripping his way toward Marc. A tree root shot out and slammed against his back but he did not waver, only dug further through the green walls. I glanced to the trellis at my left where the roses climbed toward the sky. The vines unlaced themselves from around the bars and raced off across the yard, sharp thorns glinting in the sunlight. The roots wrapped their thick limbs around the shadow man’s feet, pulling him toward the ground. The grass around him shot up, spreading like moss across his shimmering skin. The rose vines wound their way around his arms, digging deeply into the ground to hold him firmly. I turned to gaze at Marc’s fallen body, blood pulsing through the wound on his neck, his blonde hair matted with dirt and sweat. I snapped my eyes back to the shadow man struggling against the earth. Anger and hatred surged through my veins and the ground trembled more violently. Suddenly, the earth beneath him ripped open. The roots and vines pulled him deeply into the dirt. A outraged scream ripped through the air and the ground closed above him, grass quickly enveloping the scarred dirt. Then, the air was still. The roots slinked back toward the shade of the apple tree, sliding beneath the grass. The vines inched back toward the house, climbing the trellis and falling still.
I choked a sob and scrambled forward toward Marc. I heard Haylee and Peter thundering behind me. I gathered him into my arms, laying a hand over his neck. I could feel the hot blood pulsing slowly through my fingers. I laid his head against my chest and rocked him slowly. He wasn’t breathing. Silent sobs shook my shoulders and I buried my face in his hair. “I love you,” I whispered desperately. “You must not die. You must not die. You must not die.” A breeze rustled in the trees, lifting the tall grass that surrounded Marc and I, making it dance and bow against our skin.
“Dakota,” Haylee choked. I looked up at them and they were both staring down at Marc, their eyes wide. I followed their gaze. The blood that stained his neck and chest was slowly inching back up his skin. I lifted my hand from his wound. Beneath my touch, the long gash was closing. The blood soaked back into the cut as the skin pulled itself closed. A moment later, a long, pink scar stood out in the shadow of my hand. I looked down at his chest. Where a deep gash had been before, only a tiny scratch, barely visible, interrupted his tan skin. I surveyed his legs. The one that had been bent at an odd angle now lay straight and whole against the kneeling grass. He opened his eyes. Wild flowers rose from the dirt and bloomed around us. He stared at me, a little smile in his eyes.
“I’m back in the meadow,” he whispered. “Are you an angel?”
“No,” I replied, running my fingers through his hair, “I’m just another happy memory.”
“The happiest,” he said, winding his fingers through my own and laying a hand against my cheek.

in the Garden

after the last scene, Marc and Dakota spend a day in the loft of his barn, talking and watching the sun sink into the corn field. they have an absurdly long conversation, so i cut most of it out here. :) i didn't want to bore you with two romantic scenes in a row. a few important and/or interesting facts: Marc talks a lot about his brother Haden (who Dakota feels guilty for not asking about previously), we find out that Marc is twenty five (Dakota nearly chokes, since he looks so much younger), Dakota talks more about her inability to communicate successfully with men, etc. mostly all that fun, flirty small talk. :) so with all that out of the way, enjoy the next scene.

My shoelace slid beneath my sneaker and I fell forward, Marc catching me by the waist as I crashed into him. I landed with my back against the ladder, inches from his face once more. He grinned a little shyly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he whispered. He was so beautiful, his eyes gleaming, his hands firmly on either side of my waist. I felt dizzy, my palms tingling. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be brave. I lifted a shaking hand and brushed my fingers through his hair. I could feel his breath sliding against my skin. I stretched slowly up onto my tiptoes to move closer to him. He closed his eyes and leaned toward me. My heart jumped into my throat and my blood pumped thickly against my skin. He wasn't running. He wasn't jerking away in disgust. He wound his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small red shape fall through the air. A moment later, another red ball blurred toward the ground, striking Marc on the shoulder. He pulled back and looked up just as many more streaks whizzed through the air and landed with a thud against the hay. One struck him across the face and he staggered back. A second later and the air was still again, twenty big red apples lay at our feet. Marc looked from the fruit up to the tree branches hanging down over the damaged roof above us. He picked one up, which only minutes ago had been tiny and green upon its stem. He looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"Dakota," he said, handing me the apple, "I believe this is yours."
Blood began to trickle down his face from a little cut on the bridge of his nose.
"You're bleeding," I choked, staring back at the apple. He lifted his hand to his face and took it away, examining the blood in his palm. He came forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Please," he begged into my ear, "don't move." He turned and jogged toward the house. I turned the apple in my hand, my shocked face reflected in its gleaming surface. It wasn't possible. I had seen the tiny green bulbs on the branches with my own eyes. They could not have grown and ripened this quickly. But was it any more possible that I could have done it? Suddenly, I remembered standing at the porch of the shack, a branch of ivy climbing up my hand while I watched Marc bathing in the river. Had I done this? It had been the same feeling, the same tingling in my palms and clearing of my thoughts, the same cooling in my veins. The ivy winding through my fingers, flowers yawning to the sky. The apples swelling and blooming red as Marc held me close against his chest. The voices on the wind when the braches swayed in the breeze. It was me.
Unbelievably, I wanted to cry. I had been waiting and wondering this whole time if I could also possess some power, some element of protection for my new family. Peter's control of water, Haylee's hold over fire, Marc with his speed and uncanny ability to protect us from the shadow people. It turned out that I did have some ability, and it was completely useless. I could... grow things. I laughed out loud and threw the apple roughly to the ground. I was more useless now than I had ever been before. How could I protect them the way they had protected me? What could I offer in payment for the burden that I had been? I could give them apples. It wasn't fair.
I stumbled through the opening of the barn and fell to my knees in the grass. I gazed at the house in the distance, the place that was my home. I could almost see Haylee cleaning Marc's cut while Peter studied various myths. These people were my family and I was too ashamed to face them. If I could control the growth of plants, I willed the grass beneath me to open up and suck me into the earth. Nothing happened. The corn rustled behind me in the breeze and I defied it, hating every element of nature.
A few minutes later, Marc came through the back door with an icepack in his hand. I looked up and saw him halt where he was standing, staring off behind me. As I watched, the color drained from his face and he clenched his fists. The ice pack flickered and disappeared. “Dakota,” he said, his voice low, “don’t move.” He took a step toward me and stopped again. Slowly, I turned my head to look behind me. There, standing twenty feet away at the edge of the corn field, the shadow woman stood gazing hungrily at me, her red eyes burning, a sharp wooden dagger clutched in her pale hands. My heart stopped and then accelerated into my throat, desperate to keep beating. I heard Marc step closer behind me. As he did, the woman stepped forward too. Marc leapt forward, yanking me from the ground and pulling me behind his back. The woman jumped forward, shimmering in the falling sun, only ten feet away.
It happened in one breath. Marc lunged toward her, arms extended with his palms out in front of him, as if to push her away. She kicked off from the ground and flew at him. They met in midair, the heal of his hands colliding with a thud against her chest. They flickered and were gone. I screamed, rushing forward and raked the yard and field for them to reappear, but all was quiet. I collapsed to the ground, calling out for what felt like hours. Finally, I felt footsteps behind me and was lifted from the ground. Peter and Haylee were dragging me toward the house. I couldn't go, I had to wait here. Marc would come back. Any moment he would reappear, brushing his fingers through his hair, smiling at me. I couldn't leave. I clawed at the ground, pulling myself away from their grasps. On every spot of earth that my hands touched, the grass withered and turned brown. Peter's arms tightened around my waist. A moment later, everything was going dark, and I knew that I was fainting. I had enough consciousness left to reflect on how useless I was, and then the darkness closed above me.

by thy gracious self

i really, really loved this scene when i wrote it originally, but felt like there was something missing. i thought about it for a long while and added some more to it last night, and i think it's getting there. but it's new, so i'm still not sure. :) after the last scene, Marc tells Dakota that he's basically going to become her shadow to insure that nothing bad happens to her again. he feels insane with guilt for assuming she was out of the flaming shack when she was actually still trapped inside. so he's following her everywhere, despite her obvious embarrassment, because as he says, "I cannot lose you. It would be too much to bare.” so, this scene follows when it's time to go to bed. enjoy!

Ten minutes later we were standing in his bedroom glaring at each other with our arms folded firmly across our chests.
“You are not sleeping in that chair,” I said through gritted teeth. He crossed to the chair next to the window and sat down, pulling a blanket over his chest.
“Watch me,” he said, closing his eyes.
“You are being completely absurd!” I stomped my foot.
“That may be, but just for a little while until I can make sure that you’re safe, you’d better get used to me here.” He gave a dramatic yawn and sat still.
I stomped over to the light switch, slammed it off, and threw myself under the covers without another word. I seethed into the darkness for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what he had said in the living room. He had seemed incredibly pained and guilty about what had happened in the fire. Still, there was certainly no need to follow me around and baby-sit me. But how would I feel if the roles were reversed? I tried to picture myself pacing the edge of a burning house where I knew Marc was trapped inside. The image flooded my mind of his face twisted in pain, choking on smoke, the bright flames lapping at his white blonde hair. The idea caused my heart to throb painfully against my ribs. I sighed and rolled over to look at him. He was in the same position, his hair gleaming beautifully in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. My heart accelerated in my chest and I turned over, pinching my eyes shut.
Every time that I felt myself drifting near sleep, Marc would toss loudly in his chair, readjusting himself. After nearly an hour of this, I was feeling tired and very guilty at his obvious discomfort. He yawned and shifted in the chair. I held my breath for a moment, gathering courage, and then scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.
“Just get in,” I sighed in his direction, my voice shaking a little.
“What?!” I heard the blanket slide to the floor.
“Get in bed, you’ll never get any sleep in that chair.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I... it’s... you don’t have to do that...” He sounded embarrassed.
“Marc, please. You’ll be cranky if you stay awake all night.”
“I... ok...” He got up and walked to the edge of the bed, blocking out the moonlight. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I pulled the blanket back for him. “I can sleep on top of the covers, if you’d like,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” I said. I felt immediately embarrassed by how rejected I felt. He was quiet.
“Dakota, are you sure it’s alright?” I couldn’t make out the feelings behind his voice.
“Yes,” I said, almost soundlessly. He waited for a moment and then climbed in.
We both laid there awkwardly for a long time, the sides of our bodies pressed up against each other, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I took a deep breath and he sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, brushing his bare feet against mine.
“You’re feet are freezing!” he said, startled.
“They’re always like that,” I whispered. He rubbed the soles of his feet against my toes.
“Better?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” I breathed. He took his feet away. The silence stretched on. I took another deep breath. Suddenly, I could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. I blushed, sure that I had done something already to embarrass myself.
“What? What’s funny?” I asked him.
“This is so wonderfully awkward!” he choked.
“I’m glad you’re having such a great time,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s not very often that I lie in bed with a woman, I don’t exactly know the protocol for this.”
“Oh, and I do?!” My face was hot.
“Don’t you?” he asked seriously.
“No!” I almost yelled. He chuckled again.
“Fair enough,” he said, and we were quiet again. “Really, Dakota, it’s alright. I’ll go back to the chair,” he said after a long time.
“No, it’s ok.” I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t have to feel guilty.” He shifted as if to climb out of the bed. Without thinking, I rolled onto my left side and held him in place with my right arm around his waist. He froze. I put my head down on his chest, always forgetting when he was far away how wonderful he smelled. “You don’t really want me here,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I breathed into his neck, “I do.” He shivered. After a moment, he rolled toward me and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He was so warm that I felt instantly comforted, hardly afraid at all. He rubbed my back slowly and I nestled my face deeper into his warmth. He chuckled again, his chest rumbling against my body.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know that this means something different to me than it does to you,” I could hear him smiling, “but I’m not sure that I care at the moment. If you’re leading me on, feel free to do it forever.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re wonderful,” he whispered into my hair. He reached down and took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. He held our hands up in front of him, examining them in the moonlight. He traced shapes and swirls along my skin with his thumb, breathing evenly. "Your skin is incredibly soft," he whispered against the darkness. I smiled and nuzzled the warm skin of his neck with the tip of my nose. He shivered again, so I stopped.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't return any affectionate gesture correctly. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. I have... a neck thing."
"A neck thing?" I laughed with him.
"You're mocking me!" he cried in fake horror. He turned toward me and slid his face down my hair until his skin touched my neck. I could feel his warm breath along my collar bone. His lips moved against my skin.
"You're telling me this does nothing?" he murmured. I tried to lay perfectly still, suppressing the twisting of my stomach and the racing of my heart. I failed, trembling slightly. He pulled away quickly, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, "that was inappropriate."
"I really didn't mind," I choked.
"I have trouble, being this close to you," he whispered. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. After a second I reached out and took his hand again. He squeezed it for a long moment. I pulled myself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me once more. A comfortable silence filled the darkness.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable,” I said, wishing I could squeeze myself closer to him somehow, “I don’t know if I’ll ever move.”
“Stay forever,” he breathed into my ear. I meant to say something to him, but I was asleep before I even realized that I was tired.

reincarnate

this scene comes right after the last, so there's nothing to fill you in on. that's probably how a lot of the next few scenes will be, it's a tad bit action packed from this point on. :) so read and enjoy!

I felt a soft bed beneath me as I surfaced heavily back to consciousness. A familiar scent filled the air and I felt a warm hand brush against my face. I opened my eyes to find myself back in Marc's bed, staring at the open window in the corner. My head spun for one deafening moment as I tried to grasp what had been real and what had been a dream. Images flooded back to me; the smell of smoke, voices calling to me from the darkness, Haylee beside the fire with a child in her arms. I glanced next to me and saw Marc slumped in a chair with his eyes closed. One hand propped up his head, burns still red along his forearms, and one hand rested on my pillow lightly touching my cheek. He looked haggard and worn. I heard Haylee laugh from somewhere in the house. Relief flooded through me and replaced the last sickening image of her unconscious in her brother's arms, the dying flames reflected in her pale face.
"Marc?" I whispered. He jumped, his eyes flying open, and I felt my head drop sharply several inches and land against the mattress.
"Oh! Dakota, I'm sorry!" he cried. I felt beneath my head where the pillow had been, but it was gone.
"Did you just vanish my pillow?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated sheepishly, "you startled me."
"I liked that pillow. It smelled like you." His raised one eyebrow.
"I'm...s-" he began.
"If you apologize, I'll hit you." We smiled at each other for a long moment until I could feel the blush creeping against my skin.
"So, Haylee..." I started.
"Is downstairs pouring through every mythology book that I own," he smiled fondly.
"I don't know anything about Hestia," I said, remembering the last vision.
"The goddess of the hearth."
"Also known as the goddess of fire," Haylee said, coming through the hall into the room, beaming. Peter followed her.
"Do you know what a hearth is? I didn't know what a hearth was," he said, shaking his head.
"The fire of a home?" I asked.
"Showoff," Peter muttered.
"It's the heart of the family, it brings them comfort and life," she said smiling.
"Isn't it sickeningly appropriate?" Peter said, mussing his sister's hair.
"I still don't understand..." I trailed off. Peter flopped down onto my bed.
"It means that we're gods and you should worship us," he said with a smirk. Marc pretended to bow to Haylee and she gave a little curtsy.
"But how is that possible?" I asked.
"Possible?" Peter laughed. "Have you been paying attention to any of the crazy shit that's been going on? Haylee literally sucked a whole house fire into her skin!"
"It went into my veins, actually, but that's beside the point," she added.
"Into your veins?" he asked in amazement. "But didn't that... hurt?"
"Yes," she said quietly, absentmindedly hugging herself tightly.
"Wait," I interrupted, "so are you... what? Descended from the gods?"
"Dakota," Marc spoke in a low voice, "I think they are the gods."
"That can't be," I said, sitting up. Peter looked affronted.
"Why not?" he asked harshly.
"If the gods were real, then they already existed. You would have to just be related to them because they would still be around, wouldn't they? Immortality and all." A cool breeze floated through the open window, it lifted the curtains and brushed across my skin. A small voice whispered into my ear, They have been forgotten. I froze. "What did you say?" I asked, my voice cracked. I looked at each one of them, but they all appeared just as confused as I was.
"No one said anything," Marc responded, his forehead creased. I was losing my mind. I must have lost some serious brain cells from inhaling so much smoke. I pushed it away.
"But what happened to the first gods? The gods of the Greeks and Romans and whoever else?" I asked, desperate to distract their concerned stares.
"Maybe they died," Peter shrugged.
"And we're some sort of... reincarnation?" Haylee asked. Peter nodded, eager to accept any explanation. We all sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
"We'll find out, I guess," Peter finally said.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, we'll see what happens when Marc fights the corn field. If the same thing happens and we dream he's a god, too... I think that's too much evidence for it to be a coincidence. If nothing happens... I don't know, maybe Haylee and I are just nuts."
"And what about me?" I asked. The three of them exchanged a brief glance and I was almost sure this was a subject that had already been discussed behind my back.
"We think that you can do something, too," Haylee said, still looking at the others.
"Oh yeah," I laughed, "I forgot to tell you, all the times that I fall down and get in the way I'm really having a supernatural episode."
"You just don't know what it is yet," Peter said, patting my leg encouragingly under the blanket.
"Has it crossed your mind that maybe I just can't do anything?" I asked. They glanced at one another again.
"We think..." Peter began, his face concerned, "that if you couldn't do anything... you wouldn't be alive." I looked at them. It hit me.
"You think there are more of us," I said in a whisper. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Marc answered.
"How many?" I asked.
"Ten besides us," Peter said.
"There are fourteen gods," Marc said.
"So you think that the only people left alive are all... gods?" I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"We think it might be a possibility," Marc looked at Haylee and she nodded in agreement, gauging my reaction.
"And like I said," Peter broke in, "I think we'll find out when Marc goes into the corn field."
"I'm not going until Dakota is well," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"In that case," Haylee said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "let's have some dinner."
That night passed in much the same way. We sat over dinner and continued our conversation of explanations, not really offering any new information. Marc kept his eyes on me through dinner and into the evening. Peter and I played an uneventful game of chess in the living room while Haylee poured through Marc’s library for mythology books. At one point she gasped and looked up to glare at Peter.
“What’d I do?” Peter asked without meeting her gaze.
“Please don’t ever turn yourself into a horse to chase around women, it doesn’t turn out well for you.” Marc stifled a laugh.
“I won’t...” Peter said, moving his knight illegally for the third time in a row, “as long as she’s not hot.”
“Peter!”

the family in the hearth

this scene comes right after the last, so there's not too much to tell. they all have fallen asleep at the end of the last scene and now start a new cycle of dreams. this one is a little more action, a little less love. :) read and enjoy!

We dreamt.
The car came to a stop in front of a familiar yellow house with white shutters. We climbed out and made our way across the yard, passing the little mound of dirt with a bouquet of wilting daisies laid across its head. We stopped where the grass of the backyard ended and the huge cornfield began to stretch itself into the distance. A breeze rustled the corn stalks, bending the stems away toward the sun. We held our breath, waiting. Finally, movement in the distance caught our attention. As we watched, something seemed to be passing through the corn not far from where we stood. Then, a figure rose into the air from the field and hovered above the plants. Marc floated on the wind, smiling down at us, his palms pointed out in front of him as if he were pushing away the air on which he was drifting. Dakota, he whispered.
The dream darkened. The air felt heavy and thick. I tried to breathe, but my lungs locked in my chest. I felt heat searing all around me. I could hear my name floating over a roar of crackling and hissing. I tried desperately to pull myself into consciousness, fighting through the smoke that now seared my throat. I tried to breathe, tried to cry out, but I was frozen. Dakota, Marc's voice broke through the noise, come back. My eyes shot open. All around me, fire licked angrily at the air. I could make out the back door to my left, but a huge piece of burning roof lay blocking the way. I turned toward the front door and saw that it was also blocked with burning wreckage. The moonlight filtering through the doorway and the woods outside allowed me to make out three figures pacing anxiously, staring at the flaming shack. I sighed with relief; at least they were out. Nothing else mattered, as long as they were safe. My family. I could make out Haylee's face against the darkness, lit by the flames, tears racing down her face as she bit her lip furiously.
"Haylee!" Peter screamed over the roaring of the flames. Marc ran over and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her viciously.
"Help her!" he sobbed. Peter pulled him away, restraining him.
Haylee turned toward the burning building and closed her eyes. My vision started to swim, I could feel my consciousness slipping away. I love you, I love you, I love you, I willed into the darkness. I stole one last look at Haylee. Her face was hard and determined. She stretched her arms out in front of her, palms up. Her eyes shot open and her face was fierce, her hair whipping around her head in the heat of the flames. First, the air cleared of smoke and I gasped desperately, filling my lungs. I watched in awe as the smoke raced through the night into Haylee's waiting hands. Then, she stepped forward and the fire raced into her palms, disappearing from the wood all around me. Fire, like bright yellow and orange snakes, slithered away from me on every surface. I jumped to my feet and watched as the last flame in the fire pit sped across the air and slipped beneath her skin. She smiled at me and her eyes closed. One second later, she fell to the ground.
I stumbled forward toward her but Peter got there first. Marc rushed forward and pulled my arm behind his neck, taking my weight.
"Is she alright?" I choked, my throat searing with pain.
"Yes," Peter said, feeling her pulse and watching her chest rise and fall, "she's alright."
"Dakota?" Marc called from far away, "Dakota?" But I was already gone, racing away into unconsciousness Through the heavy darkness I felt the car seat slide beneath me and heard the door close.
"I think we should sleep for a while," Marc called from somewhere nearby.
"Alright," Peter said, his voice worried. I heard the doors close and drifted away again. A long time later, when Peter finally closed his eyes, we dreamed.
We watched as the fire blazed through the forests and plains, consuming every life it touched. The trees smoked and crashed to the earth. The fields blackened and bent to the force of the racing flames. All life ran from the smoke until it couldn't run anymore and was lost. The fire consumed everything, unstoppable. Haylee's voice whispered through the smoke, Fire, know peace.
Flames raced through a village, lapping at the little homes. Screams filled the air and the sun was blotted out by the smoke. The fire knew no end, but consumed the village in its impossible hunger. In the wake of the fury, ashes and bones stood out glistening against the light of the flames. Fire, know peace, Haylee breathed, a sadness in her voice. The village rebuilt itself before our eyes. Children played in the streets, laughing and smiling. The fire was not gone, but now it crackled happily in the center of each home. There, Haylee stood beside it, watching over as the families warmed themselves and ate in peace beside the flames.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Haylee reached her arm down gently, halting a little toddler who was wandering too close to the flames. She smiled and gathered him into her arms.
Hestia.

Marc in the river

you've only missed a little bit in between this scene and the last scene, so i'll fill you in. :) basically, Marc runs really fast and it's a terrifying experience for everyone involved, except Peter (of course). they end up in the woods where they hike for several house until they come across this old wooden shack where they decide to stay for the night. they all encourage Haylee to start a fire but she can't because everything in the shack is damp from the woods. at the point in this scene where she is sitting in front of the fire pit concentrating, it's referring back to her aggravation at not being able to use her "powers" in this place. it's cold, they're hungry, Dakota and Marc are as awkward as ever, so it's a pretty good day. this scene isn't particularly action packed, but as Stephenie Meyer says, "Love is the best part of every story." so read and enjoy!

When I woke up, it was barely light in the tiny, cold room. I had tossed and turned against my dreams all night, but I felt suddenly wide awake. I lifted myself as quietly as possible from the floor, trying not to wake Haylee and Peter curled up across the room. I stepped over Marc's empty sleeping bag as I made my way to the open backdoor. I stepped out onto the little porch, resting one hand against the ivy-laced banister. A little gleam of orange was creeping through the trees as the sun pushed itself over the edge of the world. I breathed in the clean air, the slight scent of flowers drifting on the breeze. I heard a splash to my right and looked over into the stream. My eyes followed a little trail of discarded clothes, my heart kicked into gear, and my eyes were pulled over to the figure of Marc bathing in the water.
He stood waist deep in the river, the dawn light glinting on his bare skin and through his hair. He rubbed water over his burnt arms and chest, the angry welts still standing out swollen against his skin. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I should turn around, or close my eyes, or look away, but I couldn't. Everything seemed to slow down. He dropped back into the water and stood again, shaking his hair out. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as he swam swiftly against the slight current. He rose to the bank and draped his feet into the river. Every drop of water that fell from his jaw, his back, his fingertips, stood out brilliantly, sparkling against the rising sun. My palms began to tingle and my blood seemed to slow in my veins. He leaned back into the grass, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile draped across his face. The green light of the forest danced against his soft skin, across his closed eyelids. Suddenly, every feeling and thought became clear. Every confusion that I had felt through the past days lifted and there was only Marc and I alone in the dawn, breathing in unison and smiling in the sunlight.
Something tickled the back of my arm. I tore my eyes away and glanced down. The ivy from the railing had wound itself around my hand. It twined through my fingers and climbed, twisting, up my arm. Little yellow flowers bloomed along the vines as I watched, tiny clouds of sweet pollen drifted off on the breeze. I gasped and yanked my hand away. The ivy fell and wound itself back around the wood but not before I heard Marc yell and saw him scramble to his feet, yanking his clothes from the ground to cover himself.
The blood rushed like a great wave into my face. I froze where I stood, horrified, unable to move or lift my eyes from the ground. My pulse thundered in my head and I could barely hear Marc's footsteps as he slowly climbed to the porch and stood next to me. Thankfully, he had pulled his jeans on, and we stood in silence while the birds began to wake up in the trees around us.
"Well," he finally said. He sounded utterly embarrassed, which made the blood pound in my face even more furiously, "I guess we're even." I couldn't open my mouth. The silence stretched on. "Were you, um, there... for long?" he asked quietly, I could see him twisting his hands together nervously.
"No," I choked.
"I thought... I thought you'd sleep... longer..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice sad.
"Alright." More silence followed.
"Dakota," he whispered desperately, "please look at me."
"I c-can't," I gasped. The tears sprang from my eyes and I rushed past him toward the stairs. He caught my arm and spun me toward him. I continued to stare at the floor, tears dripping onto the wood. He lifted my chin until I was forced to meet his eyes. Unbelievably, they were round with worry, his forehead creased.
"Why are you crying?" he whispered, wiping the back of his finger under my eye.
"I'm not," I lied.
"Dakota," he begged, laying his palm against my cheek, "please." I struggled to free myself from his grip, but he held my head between his big hands, his eyes pleading. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
"I don't know how," I struggled against him but he held me firm.
"Stop hiding!" He shook me slightly, "Tell me something real!"
"I can't!" I clamped my eyes closed, shaking my head back and forth.
"Tell me the truth. Were you going to kiss me? In the kitchen?" His voice was desperate.
"I...I..." my throat closed around the words.
"Tell me how you feel!" He was almost shouting.
"I don't feel anything!" I cried. He let his arms drop to his sides. I looked up into his eyes, his face pale and hurt.
"You don't mean that," he spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide.
"Marc..." I reached out to him, not sure what to say or do. He caught my writs and pulled me close to him.
"Every time I look at you my heart throbs against my chest. I have no idea if you feel the same way that I do or if you feel anything at all," he spoke roughly into my face, his voice shaking with anger, "Every single thought is filled with you. What you're feeling. If you're alright. If you could possibly be thinking of me." Fresh tears spilled down my face. "I know that I don't deserve a chance, Dakota, but that doesn't mean that I don't want one." He dropped my wrists and took a step away, his face hard. "When you touch me or smile at me, I burn with shame for thinking of taking my life away before it knew you. Does it make you happy to know that?" I shook my head, raking through my brain for any response. "I pine for you, Dakota. You must see it." I stood where I was, frozen, tears leaking down my face. He sighed and turned down the stairs, disappearing away into the trees. I collapsed to my knees and held my face in my hands.
It was a long day. Marc stayed away for several hours. Finally, at some point in the afternoon, Haylee sent Peter out to look for him. I lay curled in my sleeping bag and Haylee knelt in front of the fire pit, her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. I looked up when the front door opened. Peter stumbled in, panting.
"Did you find him?" I croaked.
"Oh yeah," Peter said, collapsing onto his sleeping bag.
"Where is he?" I asked desperately, looking around outside for him.
"No idea," he said, gasping for air, "he's too fast."
As the sun started to sink beneath the trees, I sat in the doorway of the porch. A light breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes. It's going to rain, a tiny voice whispered in my ear.
"It's going to rain," I repeated, without thinking. Haylee and I looked over at Peter.
"Don't look at me," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"But, there aren't any clouds," Haylee said, peeking up through the treetops. "Why do you say it's going to rain?"
"I.. it... smells like rain," I muttered.
"No it doesn't," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at me. Just then, the front door creaked open and Marc came sheepishly into the room. He carried his shirt in his hands, filled with berries and nuts. He set them down on the floor and Peter crawled over and started eating them without any explanation. He came slowly over to me and I jumped to my feet.
"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," he said, his tone flat, "there was no reason for that."
"Marc, please..." I began, but he held his hand up to stop me.
"No need, Dakota," he said with finality, "you don't owe me anything." With that, he crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Haylee and Peter whispered quietly with their heads together and I sat in the doorway for a long time. Finally, as I had known, thunder rumbled in the distance and rain began to fall. I crawled into my sleeping bag and stared into the darkness.
At some point in the night, while I stared up at the ceiling that was dripping with rain, Peter sat up angrily.
"It's freezing, Haylee!" he shouted. Beside me, Marc pulled his sleeping bag over his head.
"What do you want me to do about it, Peter?" Haylee said harshly.
"Come on, Haylee! My ass is numb!"
"FINE!" She sat up and snapped her fingers. A little light appeared in her hand and drifted toward the fire pit, illuminating Peter's stunned face. It slid into the grate and crackled merrily. Haylee crawled back into her sleeping bag.
"Well..." Peter mumbled, "thanks." A long time later, I finally fell asleep.

Poseidon

this scene comes immediately after the last. i'm rather unsure about it, so all the feedback you can give me would be helpful. thank you! enjoy!

We dreamed together.
We watched from a high mountain cliff as ocean waves rose to massive heights and pounded the waiting shores. Ocean, be still, Peter whispered into the night. The water stilled itself, sighed, and stretched calmly toward the horizon.
We watched from the treetops as raging rivers rose and tore through the woods, tearing all life up from its roots. Animals fled before the water and the trees groaned under the burden of the rushing currents. The water spilled over the banks and lapped at everything along the ground. River, be still, Peter whispered through the trees. The water sank back to the bank. The trees bloomed and smiled, the deer drank from the mirrored surface of the river.
We watched from the sky as funnels spun through the land, tearing up the world. Mountains crumbled under the storms, the rocks crashed and shook the earth. The rain poured in torrents, drowning everything. The water rose, higher and higher, until it met the sky and there was nothing but night. Water, be still, Peter whispered through the clouds. The water drained from the earth, leaving it cleaner and fresher than the world had ever know it before.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Peter stood on a mountain, looking down at the ocean, a cloud racing by above him. He smiled and the word spilled from my mouth before I had even thought it. The name filled the air and quivered on the electricity in the clouds.
Poseidon.
We all woke up with the same gasp, but Peter was already awake, looking between his sister and I with a hand covering his mouth. We stared at him in silence. Marc ripped out of the tent and raced to the car, sliding in beside me, only to continue to stare at Peter. A peel of thunder echoed in the distance.
"I..." Peter began.
"Poseidon." Marc finished, excitement in his voice.
"I don't even know what that means," Peter said in a whisper.
"The god of the sea," Marc said, his eyes wide.
"But does that mean...?"
"I don't know."
"I don't feel like..." Peter shook his head back and forth, "I can't do all that stuff, I'd never be able to do that..."
"Of course you would," Haylee said, "Look at what you did today."
"But that was nothing, I can't even control it! I can't do anything!"
"No, I can't do anything," I cut in. They all stared at me. "What I'm saying is... I don't know what it means. I don't know what 'as it once was, so it will begin again,' is supposed to tell us. I can't tell you how to control it or what to do with it. But it's a gift, Peter, it has to be. You saved Haylee's life today. The dream showed just how much good you could do with it," Peter opened his mouth to interrupt but I went on, "Maybe not right now, but some day." They all looked at me for a long time.
"Nope, I don't want it," Peter finally said, "You can have it, Dakota. I'm no good."
We discussed this way for a long time, each taking turns explaining our ideas and what we thought the dream had meant. Eventually, we talked ourselves into silence. I was thinking through the line again, of what once was would begin again, when Peter broke the quiet with a soft snore. Haylee and I rolled our eyes at each other and she curled up on the seat again. Marc was asleep with his head propped up on his hand. I laid my head against the window, listening to the thunder humming softly in the distance, and finally I fell asleep. We dreamt of a forest.
Our feet made happy squelching noises against the moss on the ground. The light filtering through the canopy was every shade of green, wrapping us in the moist darkness of the leaves. Giant trees stretched into the sky all around. Redwood, Marc whispered in my ear and I realized that we were in the Redwood forest of Northern California. Was it possible that such a cool, wet place existed only a few days drive from the desert where we were? We walked on until we heard a crackling noise approaching in the darkness. Moving through the trees ahead was a bright, yellow light. Haylee? Peter called. A second later, she appeared from behind a huge trunk. She stood several feet away, her hands stretched out in front of her. Balanced in her little palms were two bright balls of fire.
I woke up to the warm air on my face, but as I examined the overcast sky I was thankful that it would not be so hot today. Marc and Peter were both still asleep with their heads rested against the windows. I looked around for Haylee and saw her sitting in the shade of the little palm tree, staring at her hands. I climbed out quietly and went to sit next to her.
"At least the forest is better than the desert," I suggested after a long silence.
"What if something bad happens? Like when we came here?" She stared fixedly at her palms.
"I think we can handle it," Peter said, climbing from the car and making his way toward us. Marc rose from the backseat but kept his distance, his eyes on me.
"I can't put any of you in danger," she whispered.
"Give us a little credit, we'll be alright," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Well," I added, "Give you some credit, I'm totally useless." She smiled.
"I love you just the same," she said.
"We've got bigger fish to fry," Peter grunted, gesturing toward the car, "how are we going to get there?" We stared at the broken vehicle, it's hood still open, yawning toward the clouds.
"I can take us," Marc said.
"What?" Peter asked him, incredulous.
"I can push it," he said, laying a hand against the trunk of the car.
"There's no way you can push it all that way." Haylee shook her head.
"Of course he can," Peter said, understanding dawning on his face, "didn't you see him yesterday?"
"I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she said, looking between them.
"It appears that I am..." Marc began, a smile curling around the corners of his mouth, "very fast."
“That’s what you were doing yesterday? To get away from the lightning? You were running?” Haylee’s eyes were wide. Marc nodded happily.
"No," I broke in, getting to my feet, "no way you're running us up the state."
"I think it's a great idea," Peter said, sliding back into the driver's seat, "hop in, guys!" I stayed in place where I was and Haylee walked over to Marc.
"We're too heavy," she said, her eyebrows pulled together.
"Peter will leave it in neutral and steer, it won't take any effort."
"It will be exhausting," she pleaded. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll be fine, Haylee. Please trust me." He smiled gently at her. After a long moment she climbed into the passenger's seat with a sigh.
"No!" I yelled, pounding my way through the sand to stand in front of him, summoning my most intimidating look, "No! I'm not letting you." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a huge grin covering his face. It was hard to be firm with him when he looked so beautiful.
"Are you," he grinned wider, "worried about me?"
"You can't control it, you won't be able to do it right," I stood my ground.
"Yes I will." He opened the backdoor for me. I didn't budge.
"You won't be able to stop, you'll crash and kill us all."
"No I won't." He was still smiling.
"Well... You..." I struggled to find an argument, "You'll vanish us!" I actually stomped my foot. He continued to smile and pulled me gently into the backseat, closing the door.
"She has a point there," Peter said, leaning across to look at Marc through the open window.
"I will be fine," he assure us. He leaned through my window and breathed into my ear, "as long as you keep your clothes on." He winked at me and made his way to the back of the car. I suppressed a shiver and kept my arms folded tightly across my chest. Was he flirting with me? No body flirted with me. Didn’t he understand that I was totally impossible around men, not to mention around all people in general? They only times I could even manage to get close to him I was either losing my mind at the kitchen table or comforted by the darkness of the car ride. I couldn’t speak or react. Was he expecting something other than my burning cheeks and shaking hands. My stomach twisted anxiously.
"Seatbelts on," Marc called from the back. We all obeyed.
"Ready?" he called again.
"Wait!" Peter shouted and jumped from the seat, jogging around the meet Marc at the back. I watched them in the rearview mirror.
"I'm sorry," Peter said in a low voice, "for trying to zap you with lightning."
"I'm sorry, too," Marc said, surprised, "I didn't mean that... about your mother."
"I know," Peter said, almost in a whisper. Then he caught Marc in a tight, one-armed hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "for my sister." He hopped into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on.
"Ready?" Marc called again and before anyone could answer, we were flying.