Children of the Earth Read online

  Still shivering from the cold, Owen steeled himself to enter. If Luna knew he was there for information—worse, information for Daphne—there was no telling what she’d do. But even more difficult than fooling Luna, he’d have to fool himself. It would be a battle against his own hidden desire to return to his family and succumb to the voice that bubbled from his subconscious and spilled out in his dreams. Being around them could be dangerous, seductive. He’d have to watch his back.

  Before he could even knock, the door swung open.

  “Owen!” Luna’s dancing cat-eyes peered out at him. “It worked! You came.”

  Before he could ask what “worked,” her arms were around him, submerging him in her familiar scent of patchouli and earth, a scent he hadn’t realized until that very moment he’d even noticed, let alone missed. His arms went automatically around her slender back, her skin warm and alive under the snowflakes melting against her.

  Behind her, a little boy stared at them with curious, chocolate-colored eyes. He was seated cross-legged near the bar, playing with a wooden duck whose feet thwapped against the dark, waxed floor and staring up at Luna like she was something out of a storybook. He looked familiar, Owen thought, but he couldn’t recall where he’d seen the boy before.

  “Come in. It’s cold out. And meet Charlie, our nephew. Charlie, say hello to Owen.”

  “Hello to Owen.” Charlie grinned fleetingly and went back to playing with the duck.

  “He’s shy,” Luna explained, fixing the boy with a maternal smile. “But he’ll like you once he gets to know you. Everyone will.”

  She still had a hold of Owen’s hand, and she gave his fingers an extra squeeze as she ruffled the boy’s hair. In the club’s bleak daytime lighting he saw a damp glimmer in the corners of Luna’s eyes, a touch of moisture on her lashes.

  He struggled to reconcile this new Luna, the one who doted on children and got misty-eyed about seeing Owen, with the girl from his dreams. Since leaving her he’d come to think of his sister as cold and calculating, charismatic but disturbed. He’d forgotten that she had a warm side, too.

  “Did you miss me?” Luna blinked up at him, her lashes still dewy with tears.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” She slid behind the bar, flicking a rag over its already-spotless surface, her eyes never leaving his.

  “Not exactly.” He took the rag from her hand and polished the bar until it gleamed like a mirror, reflecting their twin green eyes. “Actually, I’m looking for work. Got any?”

  “For you?” Luna grinned. “Of course, Earth Brother. We’re looking for an assistant manager. Your shift starts in an hour.”

  She named a salary that made Owen’s head spin: It was close to what he’d made at the rig, for a fraction of the work.

  “Say you’ll take it!” Luna clapped her hands, and little Charlie clapped along with her, not understanding the negotiation but happy that she was happy. Owen nodded slowly.

  “Excellent!” Luna held out a hand, and Charlie ran to her, clutching the swirling white bottom of her skirt. “Now come upstairs and meet your brothers and sisters. Are you hungry? Of course you are.” She flitted through the maze of tables, leading him to a hidden staircase in the back of the bar. His curiosity mounted as they climbed the stairs, Charlie sticking close behind. He was close to meeting the Earth Brothers and Sisters he’d been forced to stay away from, close to unlocking the crucial information about who he was and where he’d come from, what his powers meant and whether others had them as well. Then he’d report it all back to Daphne, and together they’d figure out what to do next.

  The loft over the Vein was a riot of color and noise, a hive of warmth and activity with snow falling fat and steady outside its windows. The thick aroma of fresh curry almost brought Owen to his knees. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal; life on the rig was a blur of canteen snacks and boxed mac ’n’ cheese.

  “Freya, get Owen a bowl of stew.” Luna winked at a heavy-hipped girl with a long rope-colored braid trailing down her back.

  Moments later, his hands closed around a heavy clay bowl, and thick steam drifted into his nostrils. Luna handed him a spoon and guided him to a purple velvet cushion on the floor where, surrounded by his brothers and sisters, Owen dug in and began to eat.

  The snow kept falling, inching up the walls of the Vein, blocking the door with heavy, slumbering drifts. It blanketed Owen’s truck and the wide, empty parking lot around it, falling with a steady determination that whispered to Owen to stay where he was and wait out the storm.

  Time grew sluggish in the gray light of dusk, meandering through the tapestry of falling flakes, each fat as a gumball and feathered like a tiny bird. Owen no longer knew how long he’d been there in the welcoming nest of the loft above the Vein, snuggled into a mattress covered in a plush purple blanket as he downed bowl after bowl of Freya’s stew and listened to the throaty melodies of Abilene’s singing.

  The Children of the Earth settled in around him, a kaleidoscope of shifting bodies and wide-open faces, an emerald sea of eyes just like his. They took turns sitting next to him, sometimes brushing a thigh against his or resting a head on his shoulder. Each of them had a story that began with dreams like his, a story that pulled them through the confusion of turning eighteen and the jumble of spaces between their home and Carbon County, a story that ended here and now, at the Vein with Luna and each other and, finally, him.

  “We’re so glad you’re here,” they said, taking his hand, looking him in the eyes. “You’re our Earth Brother. You’re one of us.”

  One of us. The words jogged a memory, something about why he’d come. His third helping of stew sat comfortably in his belly, but there was still a nagging question in the back of his mind. “What does that mean?” he asked finally. “What does it mean, to be one of the Children of the Earth?”

  “It means you’re special.” Luna curled against him, taking his arm with one hand and circling Charlie with the other, pulling both of them close. “Powerful. Chosen. We belong to the God of the Earth, and he’s given us powers.”

  “Powers?” He knew this part was important, maybe the most important of all, but he couldn’t remember why.

  “Yes, powers.” Luna brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Special powers that other people don’t have. It’s because we’re attuned to our earth and our gods, because we can feel the vibrations of other worlds and other universes.”

  “Rocks come when I call them,” Heather said, drawing denim-clad knees into her chest.

  “I control colors,” Aura added.

  “And I make real comfort food.” Freya fingered the rope of her braid. “Food that makes you so comfortable, you won’t be able to move or think for hours.”

  Owen looked from her to the empty bowl by his feet. He felt flattened by contentment, comfortable in the peace of finally being among his family.

  These people were like him, and when they were together the thoughts and abilities that made them freaks in the outside world were a badge of honor, something to be celebrated. Here, it was okay to share his secret.

  “I can change objects with my mind,” he confessed quietly.

  Little Charlie was sitting between him and Luna, so Owen couldn’t see her eyes flash to life at his words. All he heard was her voice, velvet in his ear.

  “That’s a beautiful power, Owen,” she purred. “You are truly special. Thank you for sharing.”

  Luna stroked his head, which felt impossibly heavy, like it was full of cement. He let his eyes drift shut. So this was what it felt like to not be alone anymore. These people were just like him: They had the same eyes, the same dreams, the same powers, the same restlessness. Restlessness that had never given way until they reached this place that Luna had created just for them. Until they came home.

  Someone l
it incense as the steel gray sky darkened to black outside, and Owen let himself drift atop the mattress, part of the tapestry of color and life inside the loft. The snow continued to fall in the still, dead world outside. Finally, he didn’t feel like his blood was screaming to escape his veins, like the only way out of the prison of his mind was relentless speed and the deafening buzz of high-octane engines. Finally, he could relax.

  It was good to know that he didn’t have to fight his powers, that they didn’t make him bad. It was even better to know that the Children of the Earth weren’t evil or twisted, weren’t out to destroy the world. All they wanted was to be together and be themselves. All they wanted was peace.

  “I’m just going to take a nap,” he murmured to nobody in particular, his voice already choked with slumber. “Just a little one.”

  “Just a little one,” Luna echoed as he drifted off, surrounded by his new and ancient family, into a sleep that was finally, blessedly devoid of dreams.

  18

  “THERE’S A SEARCH PARTY ON for Sheriff Bates and his boy.” Vince Varley stood in the doorless doorway to Doug and Janie’s den. “They’re missing, and the whole town’s out looking for ’em. Are you two coming or not?”

  “Coming!” Janie leapt from the couch, where she’d been trying to hold herself still as Doug downed beers and stared vacantly at an obstacle race on ESPN2. Ciaran had dropped her off close to dawn; even though she’d barely slept she felt charged with energy, like she’d been plugged into a wall socket until her internal battery thrummed with life.

  It was all because of Ciaran. Ciaran with skin like a beach at sunset, Ciaran whose rainforest-green eyes brimmed with empathy as he drove her to the graveyard where her infant son was buried. Ciaran, who stood aside as she screamed and howled and cried until there was nothing left, until she was empty and clean and new.

  Her mind felt clear and sharp, the cloud-cover of her grief wiped away by the cold front that had swept the town in the night. All because of Ciaran: because he had looked at her and listened to her, unfazed by her sadness, willing to let her grieve.

  She bounded to her piles of clothes and started pawing through them, looking for something to wear. Ciaran might be out there, and she wanted to look nice. She wanted to make him see her the way she saw him: as someone magical and lovely, someone who suddenly made life seem worth living.

  “I need a shower,” she said suddenly, abandoning the clothes. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

  “Jeez,” Vince grumbled as she brushed by him. “It’s a search party, not a damn debutante ball.”

  Janie stopped midway down the hallway, his words registering for the first time.

  “They’re really missing?” She turned to face him.

  Vince scowled. “Really. He never came into work, so they searched his house. No sign of him. That old bat Eunice from next door said he always asks her to keep an eye on things when they go out of town, but this time he didn’t say a word.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll hurry up then. You guys go ahead—Doug and I can take his truck.”

  “Fine,” Vince grunted. “Just be careful: It’s snowing cats and dogs out there.”

  Kernels of worry began to poke at Janie’s good mood as she stepped into the shower and shampooed her hair, shivering in the measly trickle from the mansion’s overworked boiler. What would someone want with the sheriff and Charlie—Charlie, whose big brown eyes and tousled hair always tugged at something in her heart and made her think of the little boy she never got to raise.

  But that boy was dead, she reminded herself. Jeremiah was dead, and as much as he would always hold a piece of her heart, she had to accept it and move on. And she could now, she really could, because she was stronger than she realized, stronger than anyone gave her credit for.

  Ciaran had taught her that.

  She wrapped a towel around her chest and padded back to the den, where Doug’s unfocused gaze was still directed in the general vicinity of the TV.

  “Damn it, Doug!” she snapped her fingers. “Didn’t you hear what your dad said? Are you gonna help us find those guys or not?”

  “Huh?” Doug’s eyes were bloodshot, his jaw slack. Something was up with him—he wasn’t usually this much of a vegetable, even when he was hungover. “Oh yeah. I guess I’ll, like, put on a jacket or whatever.”

  “If you can be bothered.” Janie rolled her eyes, waiting for Doug’s retort, but none came. Instead he lumbered off the couch and shuffled to his room, his feet barely leaving the ground.

  Janie didn’t waste any more time worrying about Doug. He would be fine—he always was. Instead she dove for her phone and typed a frantic message to Ciaran. Then she turned back to her clothes.

  • • •

  The search party was well under way by the time she and Doug pulled into the church parking lot. Flashlight beams danced in the thick, wooded area beyond the lawn, illuminating snowflakes that glittered in the darkness like stars. Through the truck’s windows they could hear faint cries of “Sheriff Bates!” and “Charlie!”— strange nocturnal calls that made the forest seem at once dead and alive.

  Janie shook her head, her hair settling in soft waves beneath her pink pom-pom hat. “I can’t believe they’re missing,” she said quietly. Fear for little Charlie ran in a swift, cold current beneath her bubbling excitement.

  “Unh,” Doug agreed tonelessly.

  “Here,” she handed him a flashlight. “We should split up. We can cover more ground that way. And zip up your jacket, darn it. You’re gonna freeze to death out there.”

  Doug looked down at his green puffer jacket, seeming to notice for the first time that he had it on. He was still toying with the zipper as Janie slipped from the truck and hurried toward the woods, following the bouncing beam of her flashlight.

  Snowflakes brushed her cheeks, and her breath came in puffs like steam escaping a teakettle, but her insides felt warm, spreading in an even pink glow across her cheeks. She was going to see Ciaran again.

  Her flashlight picked up the outline of the tree where they’d agreed to meet, the one with wooden slats on the side leading up to a hunter’s blind. It had been her special place ever since she was a little girl, the place she escaped to when post-church picnics ran long into the afternoon and her pretty pink dresses started to scratch against her legs. She’d never shared it with anyone before, not even Doug.

  Ciaran was already there, leaning against the trunk, his hands shoved into the pockets of a faded army jacket. He shielded his face against the glare of her flashlight, but the smile in his emerald eyes made her feet feel like wings, lifting her off the ground and carrying her toward him.

  He laughed as she sank into his hug. He smelled like wood smoke and earth, like the autumn leaves decaying to dirt beneath their feet.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she said into his chest. She wished they could stay that way all night, the heat from their bodies mingling through layers of coats and clothing. But after a few moments he pulled back and held her at arm’s length, studying her carefully.

  “Wow.” His eyebrows inched up. “You’re a new girl.”

  He brushed a snowflake off her cheek, and the feeling was strange and spicy, a bubbly mix of anticipation and longing that she hadn’t felt about anyone in a very long time.

  “It’s because of you.” She couldn’t stop looking at his face, at his eyes. “Because of last night. Before that—I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I honestly just wanted to die.”

  “I know.” His finger traced a path down her cheek, lingering beneath her chin.

  “And then you helped me. Why?”

  His eyes went dark, or maybe it was just a shadow passing through the woods.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” he said quietly.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head, and the
shadow disappeared. “I’m just worried about that missing kid.”

  “Me too! We should go look for him.”

  “Okay.”

  But neither of them moved. Instead they stood still at the base of the tree, facing each other. She knew that they should search for Charlie, and she wanted to, but there was something she wanted even more.

  She pulled Ciaran closer, and he complied, wrapping his arms around her waist, sighing as their bodies made contact. The tips of their noses touched, and a tiny spark lit between them, fueled by static electricity from the cold and maybe something else, something that had been inside of them all along. The shock made them leap at the same time. Then they collapsed against each other, smiling with surprise and nervousness and relief at the tiny joke the universe had sent them, a joke that somehow made it even easier to bring their lips together and lose themselves in a kiss as light and delicate as the snowflakes falling all around.

  • • •

  Daphne’s head ached, and her mouth was dry. She took a long drink from the thermos of steaming soup that Aunt Karen had brought to the courthouse, letting it warm her stomach as the headlights of Floyd’s truck illuminated the fast-falling snow.

  “Thanks again for paying my bail,” she said as they pulled into the church parking lot.

  “Stop thanking us.” There was a grim cast to Karen’s motherly tone. “We’re family, and we have money now. It’s the Godly thing to do.”

  “Are you sure you want to join this search party?” Floyd asked for what had to be the fifth time since they’d picked her up. “You’ve already had a heck of a day.” His bushy white eyebrows were knit with anger; he’d nearly blown a fuse when he found out she’d been implicated in the sheriff’s disappearance.

  “I’m sure.” Daphne pulled Floyd’s old hunting cap down over her ears, grateful that he’d thought to bring a spare. She couldn’t bear the thought of Charlie still being at large, missing or possibly worse. Joining the search party felt like the least she could do, even though part of her ached to run home and check her phone for messages from Owen, to see how he’d fared in his undercover mission to the Vein. “Should we meet back here?”