Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans: Book 2) by Megan Tayte Read Free Book Online Page B

already sick. Like Sienna. But the brick, the cliff – I had some
sense of danger around me, of violence looming.
    Death wanted me.
    Outside, the wind tapped a tree branch against the window.
At least, I assumed it was a tree. It was a tree, right?
    I crept over to the window. The sun had set, and here on the
cliff, away from other houses and streetlights, there reigned the pure darkness
of nature. I’d always found the isolation peaceful, but tonight the night
seemed thick with threat and I had the crawling sensation that someone –
something – was out there. Watching me.
    I snatched up the phone and dialled Luke.
    ‘Hey. Are you feeling better?’
    ‘Yes. No.’
    ‘What’s up? Are you okay?’
    ‘I watched a horror film.’
    A soft laugh down the phone.
    ‘Let me guess – you’re all alone in the house, and it’s dark
out, and every sound is a psycho coming to get you.’
    ‘Bingo.’
    ‘What’s Chester doing?’
    I looked over at the dog. ‘He’s fast asleep with his legs in
the air.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound like there’s much threat there to me then.’
    I was silent.
    ‘You want me to come over?’
    ‘No. It’s okay. It’s late. Just needed to hear your voice.’
    ‘Well, here it is. What film did you watch?’
    ‘Final Destination.’
    ‘Ah. In death there are no accidents, no coincidences, no
mishaps, and no escapes .’
    My stomach lurched. ‘What?’
    ‘It’s what that Candyman mortician says in the film, isn’t
it?’
    ‘Oh. Right. Luke?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘I don’t want to be squashed by a bus, or impaled, or
decapitated.’
    ‘I don’t imagine anyone does.’
    ‘I don’t want to die at all.’
    ‘Scarlett, are you okay? It’s just a film.’
    I closed my eyes and forced a brighter tone. ‘I know. Sorry.
All spooked out.’
    ‘Don’t be sorry. I find clowns disturbing thanks to Stephen
King’s It . And Cara still has Exorcist nightmares. But maybe you
should stick to chick flicks when I’m not there to hide behind.’
    ‘There’s no maybe about it. Bridget Jones all the way
from here on.’
    ‘I like that film. I like her enormous pants.’
    That made me laugh.
    ‘I also like her blue soup.’
    ‘Could be one for the menu in your future restaurant.’
    For the next ten minutes I listened and smiled as Luke
talked emphatically on the theme ‘What’s in a colour? A soup by any other
colour would taste as good’, until finally the shadows receded and the cottage
felt cosy and the tree outside the window was just a tree once more.
    ‘Luke?’ I said.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Any time. You okay now?’
    ‘I’m okay now. I love you.’
    ‘I love you too.’
    Only after I’d hung up did I whisper the words I wished I
could say:
    ‘Don’t let me go. Please.’

9: THE STUFF OF STORIES
     
    Now this is living! All those years stuck at Willake and
Hollythwaite, grey and regimented and dull, dull, dull. Be sensible, Sienna. Be
civilised, Sienna. Be a good little puppet, Sienna. But here, it’s all about
the moment – wind and sea and speed and thrill. GodDAMN I love the surf. And
the surfers. And the part-ays.
    And the power! I healed a seagull today. Not because I
care much for them – stupid, annoying, squawking, pooping – but because I
could.
    ~
    My first row with Jude.
    Honestly, the fuss he made when I told him about healing
a little girl today! I mean, what was I meant to do, help her up off the
promenade and take her back to her mum with blood oozing out of her knee?
What’s right with that, when with just a little touch I can take away the pain
and the gore? And I made that kid’s day. Now she knows magic’s not just the
stuff of stories.
    But even though I did a Good Thing, Jude was all, ‘I told
you not to use the light – you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. And I told
you to keep it a secret.’ Which is true enough. But I hated him yelling at me,
so I yelled back louder. He told me to calm down. So I told him (not very
politely) to