Restless
Jackson
Winter
“Mr. Howe, can you come take a look at my painting? I’m not sure if I should add more color.”
I crossed the room to see what Matteo had created this time. The kid was an art prodigy, and all because of a series of heart-wrenching tragedies.
Teaching art to child victims of trauma meant being prepared for any type of response, especially for the students at Havenhart Academy. They were all here because they had a little something…extra about them, and Matteo’s gift was exceptional.
“Matteo, that is incredible. Que bueno.”
His latest work featured a beautiful brick courtyard draped with delicate palm fronds and various species of ferns. In the corner was a woman cloaked in white, kneeling next to a fountain. Only the side quarter of her profile was visible but it was enough to see that she was smiling softly to herself as her fingers grazed the surface of the water.
I placed a hand on Matteo’s shoulder. “Your mama would be so very proud of you.”
Matteo had joined Havenhart Academy in the fall and had excelled in all of his subjects. His English was improving, he kept Skye Livorna—the academy’s science teacher—on her toes with his wild experiments in the lab…but it was in the art studio, where he spent most of his time, that he’d really opened up.
I asked him frequently why he wasn’t hanging out with the other students, and he would always respond, “Mr. Howe, if I don’t get these images out of my head, no me puede dormir. I can’t sleep. And if my drawings can help another person, no me quiero falta. I don’t want to be late again.”
Matteo’s family was killed in separate terrorist attacks in Spain. He started drawing pictures at a young age of explosions and other terrible tragedies, which sadly seemed to correspond with actual events. When the headmaster of the academy, Nigel Hart, went to visit him, he was astounded by the images Matteo had been drawing in his sketchbooks, and only wished he’d found him sooner.
I felt for the kid. I knew what it was like to be powerless to change the events that played out in my head, and I’d been much older than him when my “curse” took root.
Matteo helped me close up the studio for the evening and we walked together back to the boys’ dormitory.
“Señor Howe? Does it ever get easier? What you see?”
Not really, no. I was pretty raw tonight, but I knew the kid needed to talk. He knew the minimum about my past. The other kids knew, as well, but I didn’t go out of my way to give them details.
“It does. Most of the time, I can at least recognize it for what it is.” I didn’t want to tell him that I had nightmares most nights, that I saw shit happening I wished was only a nightmare, but knew in my heart to be true. I saw suffering on a daily basis. The things that helped the most were art and music…though on days when I was in particularly bad shape, I had other ways of dealing with it. Which I would be doing as soon as I dropped him off at the dorm.
“I just hope I can learn how to use what I see to help people, tú conóces? Then at least I’m giving people a chance.”
“Si, claro. Of course. Now hit the bunk and get some shut-eye. Can’t help anyone when you’re dead on your feet.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, rolling his eyes. The kids laughed when I went all Ranger on them. They had no idea. If they thought this was rough…
But then, I had to remember that the structure of military life—the life I’d spent the previous twenty years living—likely would be a cake walk for these kids, who’d experienced so much trauma.
I waved to him as he walked into the lobby of the dorm before I headed over to the front gate.
“Vincent, I’m taking the truck. I need to head into town.”
Vincent was the academy’s driver and head of security. He spoke little and liked being out of the spotlight, but his presence kept those on campus feeling safe. This was crucial, given the clientele we served.
Havenhart Academy took in broken and damaged kids from around the world who’d been touched by tragedy, and who possessed certain gifts that either enhanced or hindered their lives. Headmaster Nigel Hart brought them here by whatever means necessary to help heal them and watch them flourish. He staffed the school with only the most brilliant and gifted people who could meet the needs of the students, with skills ranging from physical and emotional healing to manipulation of the elements.
Staff members also possessed a wide range of Sight, meaning they were able to See events occurring elsewhere, people in danger or pain or, in some cases, things that have yet to happen. Some were incredibly powerful, while others were only just learning how to use their skills to help the students.
Delaney Frost, for example, the new counselor, never knew that her ability to make others feel safe enough to share their personal stories—including bringing big, burly men to tears when they’d never shed them before—was more than just good active listening techniques.
Dr. Damien Preston, the Director of Students, had interviewed her the previous spring, and was so impressed that he’d brought her to Havenhart this year. Then he’d proceeded to seduce her—which I’d hated at the time. But now it made sense.
As for me? I made Connections with certain people, though I had no idea why fate chose the particular people I Connected with.
I rubbed the back of my neck as I drove into town. I was so tired. Tired of being alone, tired of faking happiness for others when inside I was a fucking mess. I’d thought my prayers had been answered when Nigel hired Delaney this past summer. Ever since meeting her back in college and Connecting with her, I’d wondered if we’d one day have a chance together, if that was maybe the reason I Connected with her. When she arrived here at Havenhart, it was quickly apparent that she was meant to soothe the pain of someone else.
At first it royally sucked, but Damien was a good guy, and Delaney was so happy with him. Not to mention, there hadn’t been the spark between us that I was expecting. I knew it was better this way. I wasn’t exactly a catch.
That didn’t keep me from thinking of Cassidy.
Delaney’s best friend.
My most recent Connection—and the strongest I’d ever experienced.
As I turned onto the main street in Blue Spring, Arkansas, the small town closest to Havenhart, I was assaulted by memories of the events that occurred the day we met…
* * *
It all happened so fast. One minute we were gathering ingredients for making s’mores, the next, our worst nightmare was coming true…
The evil presence had once again gotten past our wards and technology, and was gunning for our friend.
We couldn’t lose Delaney. She was too important.
She took off running into the woods, with Damien hot on her heels.
“Delaney!” Cassidy darted forward, but I grabbed her hand.
“Go back to the kitchen and tell whoever you see that Delaney’s in trouble. Send them our way. Please! Then stay inside.”
I hoped like hell Cassidy would listen. I feared for her safety. If Rains knew she was equally important, she’d become another target.
I pushed my body forward, running at a pace I shouldn’t due to the fact I was still healing from a gunshot wound. I ran for all I was worth, becoming winded quickly. I heard Damien calling out to Delaney just ahead. Every breath stabbed me in the gut, but I pushed on, trying to catch up to them, until my legs gave out and I nearly fell. I bent over and held my side, trying desperately to catch my breath, when all of a sudden the woods filled with light—and I heard a gunshot.
Delaney.
I took off again, scrambling to find them, when Damien’s screams ripped through the woods. I found them in the clearing the school used as a campfire pit. Damien was holding a bleeding, unconscious Delaney, begging and pleading with her to breathe.
I had a choice to make: stay and administer aid to her, or go after Rains. If he got away again, who knew how long this nightmare would continue? And I knew Damien was a powerful healer.
“Where’d he go, Preston?”
Damien gestured with his head, indicating the direction of the assailant. I took off running again.
Former Marine and medic George—and Delaney’s cousin, security expert James—caught up to me, and I pointed them in the direction I thought Rain’s had gone, but I couldn’t speak. I ran for another hundred yards before my lungs seized up. I dropped to my knees, light-headed, and had to fight to remain conscious. I reached deep within myself to draw on my intuition, listening in the darkness for the intruder. I feared I was too late.
I heard nothing for several minutes, until the crash of boots to my left let me know that James and George hadn’t found the assailant.
“Son of a bitch!” James fought to catch his breath as well. “He somehow managed to scale the wall and made it to the road back there. I heard a car taking off.”
I cursed under my breath. I’d been cocky, thinking we could handle anything this guy threw at us. I wouldn’t underestimate him again.
“Howe, are you wounded?”
Still unable to speak, I shook my head. James offered me a hand and I allowed him to pull me up, gasping when I was back on my feet.
“Shit. You probably tore that wound. Let’s get back. I need to see Delaney.”
Somehow, I knew she would be okay, though our Connection was faint. She was far away, I could barely sense her, but she was still with us.
Damien had carried Delaney into the infirmary and was still beside her, trying to use his healing powers.
My God.
Delaney was so pale. They were both covered with blood.
Nigel, Grace and Morgan fussed around her, hooking her up to various pieces of medical equipment, when Damien abruptly collapsed on the floor next to the bed. George lifted him effortlessly and placed him on another bed. Even unconscious, his head was turned toward her.
More of his hair had turned white. There was a new chunk at his temple to join the previous two.
My heart went out to them both. They’d only just found each other. Their bond was so strong, they had to be okay.
Cassidy.
I Saw her in my mind as she stood alone in the hallway outside Delaney’s room, silent tears streaming down her face. I sensed her worry and frustration that she didn’t know what was happening and couldn’t help. She looked vulnerable there, her shoulders hunched and her hands wringing, nothing to occupy them. I gathered she didn’t do well with idleness.
Cassidy shivered as I approached, and instinctively I put an arm around her, though I should have asked.
She leaned into me and let out a stuttering breath. ”I can’t believe this is happening.”
Her pain overwhelmed me at our contact and I cursed. “I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.”
She patted my chest. “You can’t control the actions of a madman. Don’t blame yourself.”
I couldn’t explain to her why I should have been able to stop this, and why I should have known it was going to happen. There was no logical or rational explanation, and Cassidy was a logical and rational person. She’d never believe me, and the last thing we needed was her thinking Delaney wasn’t safe or getting the best care.
“Why don’t you two get some rest?” Grace stood in the doorway with a sad smile. “I’ll call you when they wake.”
Cassidy wiped at her tears and shook out her hands.
“Hey, she’s going to be okay,” I said, pulling her closer. She turned into my chest and let out a shaky breath. I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, as though I’d known her forever.
And I did. I knew her. From the moment I’d shaken her hand the previous day, flashes of her life had played out in my mind like a movie montage. Vivid, emotional, revealing, and visceral.
The Connections could be helpful from time to time, like tonight, when I needed to locate Delaney. But my gift was mostly awkward, especially when it was with an incredible woman like Cassidy.
And if I told her anything about my stupid curse, she’d think I was crazy and that would be the end of it.
Cassidy’s breathing grew steady and I tried to quiet her with soothing words, even as my insides were screaming over our proximity. Random images of her life continued to flow through my mind. Her as a young girl with pigtails in a pink dress with a white collar, then as a gawky teen with her pet rat perched on her shoulder, and then at her wedding.
That Sight sliced through me like shrapnel.
Her feelings and sensations in each of the scenes were so raw. She was heading into a divorce, and it was such a disconnect, seeing her happiest memories but feeling the anguish over fresh hurts at the same time. Especially those involving Delaney. Understandable, of course. She’d just seen her best friend near death.
I shut my eyes tightly and fought to bear the emotional onslaught…
* * *
I parked the truck and rested my head against the steering wheel. My chest ached, my muscles felt weak, and breathing was a chore. After a few moments, I looked up to see that I’d made it to Shenanigans, the dive bar we hung out in sometimes when we needed some “grown-up time.” Being the Head Resident of the boys’ dorm meant I had very little time to relax and let go of the tension. I didn’t keep alcohol or any other illicit substances in my place, to avoid temptation, both mine and the kids’. But I intended to tie one on tonight.
I’d either grab a room at the inn or sleep in the truck; I wasn’t that stupid.
I stepped out of the truck into the cool winter night and shivered. All of my battered bits screamed angrily about the temperature drop, another reason for my foul mood. Just a few more steps, Howe, and you can forget all about it.
I bellied up to the bar and ordered a bourbon straight. And another. And another. It was so good to feel the alcohol shutting down most of my neurotransmitters and the ensuing fog was somewhat peaceful.
When the bar started to get a little more crowded—Thursdays were Nacho Night—I shifted clumsily to a booth in the corner. My hope was that the fog would envelop me and allow for a complete numb-out. Every once in a while I needed it. Problem was, when the numbness came on, I lost a bit of my control over what I Saw.
