Chasing Before Read online

  I open my eyes with a start and drop the menu onto the table. Dad looks at me with concern, but our dinner companions either haven’t noticed anything or are too caught up in their postconcert euphoria to care.

  Flashing Dad a reassuring smile, I open my menu and hide behind it. There’s no reason for me to be seeing Julian’s face in connection with the car crash. Whenever I try to think of the crash, my mind shuts down. I don’t know what happened from the moment Neil swerved to miss the police car until the moment I woke up in the hospital, hooked up to machines and under the influence of pain meds. They told us the driver had miraculously gotten out of the twisted wreckage and fled the scene, that the police car had been reported as stolen, and that they had no leads. They also asked us a bunch of weird questions, like if we’d seen a tornado. I hadn’t been back to the crash site, but friends mentioned that the trees and bushes along the side of the road had been flattened.

  Julian couldn’t have been in that police car. I was definitely angry with him for a long time, but loving Neil has taught me to be more forgiving—both of others and of myself. I’m sure I only had this vision because I’m under so much stress, and the coincidence of reading his name on the menu made my mind invent Julian’s presence at the scene of the accident. So why is my whole body tense and shaky?

  Dad puts his hand on my arm. “What would you like? I ordered the escargot as a starter.”

  The waiter poises his pencil above a pad, his eyebrows arched. “The fish,” I say, and he nods and writes down my selection.

  In an attempt to steady my nerves, I study the patterns of the stained glass. Conversation and laughter whirl around me. Arno and Frederick comment on the excellent sound in the Salle Pleyel and praise the woodwind section in particular for bringing across the haunting atmosphere of the wild Turkish hills. They also compliment Dad for his composition skills and me for playing the piano so well. They don’t mention my slew of very minor mistakes, but then, it’s possible only Dad and I know the piece well enough to tell. In any case, their attempt to include me in the conversation works. By the time the escargot arrives, with the tiny special fork-like utensils, I’m cheerful and chatty enough that Dad stops throwing me worried glances.

  After dinner and a succulent fillet of fish that is a billion times better than ramen noodles from a package, all four of us take the subway back to our hotel in Montparnasse. Dad presses the ornate room key into my hand at the front of the hotel and heads off with Arno and Frederick for a special after-hours tour of the Montparnasse cemetery.

  In our room I sit on my twin bed and text Neil that my dad’s out, so he can call me. He’s six hours behind us, which means it’s midafternoon there and he should be finished with his shift soon.

  It’s pure agony being apart, and from this distance our problems don’t seem that big. When I try to imagine a future without Neil, I can’t do it. So if I can’t live without him, am I willing to make the ultimate commitment? Am I willing to get married?

  Eighteen is far too young to get married, but it’s legal, so obviously it can’t be too wrong an idea. And if we get married, Neil would be okay with us living together. We could finally be totally uninhibited with each other. The thought makes me hot all over.

  To distract myself while I wait for his call, I rummage nervously through the drawers of the desk and find brochures for the Tour Montparnasse, one of Europe’s tallest skyscrapers, and Les Catacombes. I’ve been to the fifty-sixth-floor observation deck of the tower before, but I’ve not dared to go to the catacombs. I was never a fan of morbid curiosities before my brush with death, and I like them even less now.

  Soon I’ve exhausted all the reading material the hotel room has to offer. A glint of silver on my dad’s bed catches my eye. He forgot his camera. Dad’s the type who only takes pictures of buildings with people in front of them—otherwise he could just buy a postcard, he always says. So our family albums are full of shots of me or my mother or both of us, looking exasperated in front of castles and other landmarks. But as I go through his memory card, I’m horrified to find that not one photo is of me. A stranger scrolling through it wouldn’t even know he had a daughter. Do the newest family albums tell the same story? Can I so easily be erased from my parents’ lives?

  Finally the phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” Neil says from across the ocean. “Sorry I couldn’t call you yesterday. I had to stay late at work.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I say, even though it wasn’t okay.

  “I miss you, Felicia.”

  My heart does a little flip-flop, like it always does when he says my name. “I miss you, too. Only a few more days.”

  “I don’t want you to ever go away for so long again.” Neil’s voice cracks. “I can’t stand it.”

  I swallow back a sob and try for lightness. “Why don’t you come with me next time?”

  He doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and I kick myself for possibly alienating him so early in our conversation. Every day leading up to this trip I begged him to reconsider coming with me, but he was resolute in his argument that he couldn’t afford it. I hold my breath and I hear him sigh. “Where’s your dad right now?” he asks.

  “Oh, he’s visiting Serge Gainsbourg’s grave. It’s, like, this musical pilgrimage he does every time we come to Paris.”

  “Is that next to Jim Morrison’s grave?”

  I laugh. “No, totally different cemetery. Jim’s in the Père Lachaise, and Serge is in the Montparnasse.”

  “They sound like expensive hotels.”

  “Everything sounds fancy when you say it in French.”

  “Don’t you think it’s creepy to visit strangers’ graves?”

  “Wait, are you saying my dad is creepy?”

  “No . . .” Neil tries to backpedal. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Good, because he may well be your dad soon,” I say at the same time he says, “But I wouldn’t want to do it personally.”

  “Wait . . . what? Why would your dad be mine? Does he want to adopt me?” I detect a teasing note to his voice, so I know he’s understood me.

  “Think about it, Neil. I have.” I press forward, breathlessly, speaking so fast that my words tumble over one another. I don’t want him to interrupt me, or I might never say what I need to say. “It’s the right choice for us. I can’t imagine anyone ever being a better fit for me than you are. The car accident showed me that we could die at any time. We could die tomorrow. I don’t want to miss out on anything. I don’t want to miss out on knowing every part of you.”

  After my impassioned speech, the crackle of our long-distance connection is the only sound I hear. I’ve rendered Neil speechless twice now. He’s silent so long that I start to worry.

  “Neil? Are you still there? Do you think I’m totally crazy?”

  “No,” he says seriously. “I think you’re impulsive and wonderful and passionate . . .”

  His words make me giddy, and I stand and jump on the bed. The hotel phone cord protests and pulls the receiver out of my hands, causing me to miss the last part of his sentence.

  I fly off the bed, grab the receiver, and smash it against my ear in my haste. “. . . when you get back,” he says.

  I bite my lip. “What was that? Sorry. I dropped the phone.”

  “I said, I think we shouldn’t do this over the phone. We should talk when you get back.”

  His voice is neutral. I can’t tell what he means by talking when we get back. Maybe he means he wants to do this right and propose on bended knee. He’s such a gentleman, so I wouldn’t put it past him. Or maybe he doesn’t think we should get married and he thinks I’ll take it better in person. I’m about to ask him when the door creaks open.

  “Felicia?” my dad calls in like he doesn’t want to disturb me while I’m getting dressed or something.

  “Just a sec!” I shout. Crap. I don’t want to do this with my dad hanging around. “Can we talk a
gain later? My dad is here. I’ll text you when I’m alone again.”

  “Sure.” Neil’s voice has a slight edge to it, like he’s annoyed. “Love you.” And the phone clicks before I can say it back.

  “Love you, too,” I whisper into the dead line. To my dad I shout, “Come in.” I put on my most radiant smile for my dad. I don’t want him to ask if something’s wrong, because I don’t want to think about something being wrong. If I do, I might have a nervous breakdown. I’ve put myself out there, and I’ve been left hanging. It scares me more than I could have ever imagined.

  The memory cuts out, and I lie stunned on the floor. I can’t believe I brought up marriage to Neil. Maybe that’s what Neil is missing—a concrete commitment. But I won’t know how he reacted to my proposal until I view another memory. I’m dying to find out what happened next.

  twenty-four

  I PEER UNDER THE SCARF to check for hidden memory globes. But of course there aren’t any. I dematerialize the scarf to get rid of the evidence of the Morati’s visit.

  I reluctantly get up and retrieve my seraphim guard binder. I’ll have to be a model student from here on out to justify Furukama’s choice of me over Autumn. Why did he choose me, anyway? Autumn has way more experience and respect than I do, so he must think my potential outweighs all that. Sitting in my desk chair, I open the binder to the first page and start reading about meditation.

  I practice a few of the exercises, trying to reach the Zen-like state that successful meditation promises. It’s surprisingly similar to what I’ve already practiced—the deep, slow breathing and the one-point concentration that’s supposed to drive everything else out of your mind. Despite my perfectly straight posture, I’m feeling incredibly relaxed. There’s a sharp knock on the door.

  Shaking myself wide-awake, I get up and answer it. It’s Neil, his face flushed with excitement.

  “Hey,” he says. “I left early this morning, and I didn’t want to wake you. How was your day?”

  Judging from the happiness emanating from Neil, his day went better than mine did. The two memories I viewed are roiling beneath the surface of my skin, begging to be shared with Neil. I want him to know that despite what Nate said about us breaking up on Earth, we did talk about getting married. But I can’t let him know that I couldn’t help myself. That I gave in to my weakness and didn’t report the memory globes like I should have. I can’t tell him about Furukama kicking Autumn out of guard training, because that will only lead to questions that have answers Neil won’t want to hear. “It was okay.” I don’t want to keep lying to him, so I figure the less detail, the better. “How was yours?”

  “Great! Libby and I made some real breakthroughs today. She’s training me in the healing arts, so I can enhance moods without her help. And tons of people came to our music session in the lobby downstairs.” He pulls me up out of my chair and drags me across to sit on the edge of the bed with him. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop by. You must have seen us.”

  “I saw you. But Furukama assigned so much homework.” I point to the open binder on my desk.

  “I’ll let you get back to it. I’m meeting Libby to discuss how we can get healer recruits. More than only Keegan.” He squeezes my leg in an affectionate way.

  I wish that instead of spending so much time with Libby, he would spend time with me. This whole incident with Autumn proves more than ever that I need Neil to keep me good. Without him my moral center has atrophied and I betrayed my best friend again rather than face up to the consequences of my evil deeds. But what can I do? I’m committed to seraphim guard training now.

  “So will you come pick me up tomorrow before class?” I ask. “We can walk together.”

  “I’d like that.” Neil gives me a quick kiss on the lips and bounds out of my room. The air tastes stale when he goes, and I let myself fall backward onto the bed. I hate keeping things from him.

  I lie on my bed for a few minutes, practicing my meditation breathing before I psych myself up for visiting Julian. Autumn isn’t going to help me with memory extraction, so I need Julian to teach me to look into my classmates’ memories so that I can identify which are Morati in disguise.

  But when I exit my room, Nate is there. I groan and try to step around him, but he blocks my path.

  “Hey, hold on now.” He grins. “I thought you’d want to go out and celebrate the great job you did today.” He lifts his hand like I should give him a high five, but the thought of touching him makes my skin crawl.

  “There’s no need to gloat.”

  “Now that you’ve successfully paid off your debt to me, I’ve come to offer you a new deal. Another memory for another favor.” He looks so sure of himself, I want to smack the arrogance right off his face. Fortunately, with the Morati being so generous, I don’t need to make any more deals with Nate.

  “No, thanks,” I say nonchalantly. “I’ve put all that behind me.” I allow myself a small smile when his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. And this time when I push past him, he lets me go.

  “C’mon, don’t be mad,” he calls after me. “I wouldn’t have really pushed you down the hellhole. You just needed the right motivation.” It’s nice of him to admit that after the fact.

  When I get to Julian’s room, I go in. His condition hasn’t improved since yesterday. He lies listlessly on the sofa, on his side, staring off into space. The corners of his mouth lift slightly upward when he notices me.

  “How’s your headache?” I stay close to the door.

  “Much better, thanks to you.” He pats the sofa next to him. “Have time to give me another massage? You could use the practice.”

  I force myself not to blush, stopping the physical reaction in its tracks. I can’t let Julian rattle me. “I’m good. I practiced on Neil,” I lie.

  “So, what’s new?” he asks. It seems he doesn’t have the energy to pester me much. But that also means he might not be as helpful as I hoped.

  “Nate coerced me into getting Furukama to dismiss Autumn because of the favor I owed him. He threatened to push me into the hellhole if I didn’t. She’s out of the program now. And she hates me.” I retrieve the wooden chair from the corner to sit on.

  “Wow,” Julian says. “That’s pretty major. What does Nate get out of that?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve never meshed well, so maybe it’s a personal vendetta.”

  “Maybe. What else?”

  “They’ve been watching you closely. They know you haven’t left your room.”

  “Then they know you’re consorting with an angel.”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends hang out.” I lean on my right elbow and twirl a long strand of hair between the fingers of my left hand.

  He raises one eyebrow. “Is Neil aware you’re here?”

  “Let’s not talk about Neil.” I shift in the chair, pressing my back against the wooden slats.

  “No problem.” The intensely serious way he stares at me unsettles me to the core. I have to change the subject, and quickly.

  “Can you teach me memory extraction, so I can view what the other trainees are hiding and figure out who is Morati?”

  “Angel memories are more difficult to process. If I don’t mask their full force, I might overwhelm you. And I don’t have the control to mask anything right now. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Remember how I was plugged into the Morati’s mainframe? Trillions of memories streamed through me then, and I survived.” I lean forward. “I can handle it.”

  Julian tries to lift himself to a sitting position, wincing as he does. “Care to help me?”

  I propel myself out of the chair, hug my arms around his chest, and push him up against the sofa cushions. When I find myself standing over him awkwardly, my lips a mere shadow away from his and my hair brushing his neck, I can’t hold back the blush, and it breaks free across my cheeks.

  Julian allows himself a small smile, and I realize that he could be pretending to be weaker than he really is. I hop to
the side when he reaches out his hand.

  “If you want to do this, you have to touch me. That’s how it works.”

  “I know.” I scoot the chair close enough to Julian that I can brace my knees against the sofa, and I hold out my palm. “I’m ready.”

  When our palms connect, I am caught up in a swirl of impressions inside Julian’s mind. His memories fly by me at the speed of light, as if I’m careening through a vast universe of stars at warp speed. Each memory hits me like the tiny stab of a pin until I feel like my body will burst apart. This bombardment is similar in scope to what I experienced in the Morati’s mainframe, but then I actually experienced the memories of millions of humans as they passed through me, whereas here I catch only snippets that make no sense. I break away and keel over into Julian’s lap, my forehead smashing into his thigh. He was right. Trying to view angel memories is not easy.

  Very lightly he runs his hand over my hair, making my scalp prickle with a pleasure I don’t want to feel. “The more we do this, the easier it’ll become,” he says. “I can teach you memory extraction. To sort through memories, to judge if they’re real or not and to search for specific moments.”

  I groan and use all my strength to force myself back into my chair. He lets his hand fall heavily onto his knee. I think back to the chapter headings I skimmed through in my seraphim guard training syllabus. “Won’t I be learning that sort of thing with Furukama?”

  “Furukama has no practice in dealing with angels, since they’ve never been on this level before. He’ll be easily fooled by the Morati. But if you keep coming to me, you’ll be able to see through their lies.”

  “Will I be able to see through yours?” I ask pointedly.

  “I hope so!” He laughs, but stops abruptly and squeezes his arms into his sides, contorting his face in the process. “Agh. Hurts to laugh.”