If my mother’s right and I’m on the highway to hell, I might as well make a pitstop at the beach before I burn. Getting kissed by firelight would be worth braving the fiery pits. At twenty-one I’m so virginal I haven’t received so much as a peck from the opposite sex which makes me even more of an anomaly than I already am. But unlike my mindreading, a lack of kisses is something I can fix. Tonight is my chance.
I picture Nicholas’s face, the way his mouth perpetually quirks up at one end. The way his eyes burn with an intensity that increases my pulse by a thousand whenever they’re trained on me. Okay, definitely worth it.
I pull on my favorite navy sweater, the one that compliments my blue eyes perfectly. It’s nearly the end of September, so it’ll be cold down by the water, even with a bonfire roaring and dozens of dancing people crowded together, so I grab my wool coat then swipe some tinted balm over my lips and cheeks before inexpertly applying a few coats of mascara, cursing the clumps that form when I’m too heavy-handed. I’ve only just started experimenting with makeup and so far, I’m not exactly adept at it.
I turn to the terrarium on my desk and lean close. “What do you think, Mistress Rose?” My tiny jumping spider scurries out of her usual hiding spot and stares at me with all eight eyes, her front fuzzy brown legs lifting in what I decide is approval. Her rapt expression is maybe the thing I love best about her. She really seems to like being around me—oddly all insects and rodents do—which is a saving grace since I can only handle limited contact with people since I can read their minds whether I want to or not. The moment I get too close, their thoughts crash like a giant wave inside my brain, obliterating the shores of my consciousness so thoroughly I can’t think or speak or move.
The one thing Mom and I both agree on is that this ability is a curse. Large crowds are impossible. Even groups of one or two people can be taxing. No one should be able to know what a person’s thinking all the time: their fears, wanton desires, and bare observations instantly inside my head. All that truth, unvarnished by societal niceties and tact takes a toll.
I dip a hand into the aquarium and stroke Rose’s tiny cotton ball body. She jumps onto the top of my palm and walks in a semi-circle before leaping off again.
“Wish me luck,” I whisper, but she’s already turned her back to me, climbing into the hammock she’s spun near the heating lamp in her enclosure.
I take a deep, steadying breath, and peer out into the hall. There’s no light bleeding from underneath my mother’s door. It’s nearly eleven o’clock, way past her bedtime. Even so, I listen to her thoughts to make certain she’s down for the night. She’s in the middle of her usual nightmare, the one where she’s running down a rainy alleyway, shoes pounding over cobblestones. A shadowy figure is in pursuit, a masculine presence that closes the distance between them fast. Her panic is palpable, invading my own heart, causing it to flutter. I can’t see who is following her, but the word devil plays in a loop inside Mom’s head as she runs. Of course, my hyper-religious parent is dreaming about being chased by Satan. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t crystal clear how terrified she is.
Time to go.
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. Sneaking around at my age is ridiculous. I should just gather my courage and tell Mom I’m going out. She shouldn’t have this much power over me still. I duck back into my bedroom and head for the window, purposefully ignoring the four-inch Jesus hanging on an ornately carved wooden cross above it. All Mom’s indoctrination is hard to break, but I won’t be guilted into staying home tonight. I’m an adult for Christ’s sake. I grin despite my nerves. Swearing—even just inside my head makes me feel bolder. I deserve a moment of rebellion in the name of romance, right? Actually, I deserve a million moments, but one will do…for now.
Holding my breath, I ease open the window, wincing at every creaking protest of the frame. But it’s better than going through the front or back doors and setting off the security cameras. I climb onto the sill and reach for the large limb of the oak tree next to my window, being careful not to look down. The tree is far enough from the house that I’m going to have to lunge a bit to grab it. There’s a bed of rocks below, a clever bit of landscaping Mom installed years ago meant to keep me from even considering what I’m doing right now. Falling wouldn’t be fatal, but it would hurt like hell.
Heart pounding, I launch myself at the tree. There’s a split second of stomach-clenching fear where I am midair and tether-less, but then my hands find purchase as my body collides with the thick branch. The impact wracks through me, sending a knife of pain through my shoulders, but I made it.
Yes!
Exhilaration fizzing through me, I shimmy down the limb to the trunk, praying the bark doesn’t leave stains on my jeans. Once I’m past the rocks, I let out a shaky breath and head across the front yard. Kaia’s beat-up Honda Civic is idling next to the curb just like she promised it would be when we talked online earlier, exhaust billowing out behind it. She leans over the passenger seat and waves at me. We’ve never seen each other in person before. She’s blonder than her picture in the Brackenhurst College’s online directory. And there are streaks of pink running through her long hair, giving it a sort of punk-rock vibe.
This is so weird, she’s thinking. Like breaking a cultist out of the Manson compound.
I frown, my cheeks heating. I want to argue and insist it’s not. But that’s a lie. I have been locked away in this house my whole life, partly by choice because of my mindreading, but partly because I’ve believed what my mother’s always told me: that I’m cursed. I have evil in me and the best way to keep the evil at bay is to isolate myself from the world. Except her only real proof is the mindreading, my uncanny agility like with the jump to the tree just now, and the fact that deathly pale and frail-looking as I am, I’ve never been sick once. Not sure how that last bit’s a curse, but then, to Mom anything abnormal is.
I glance back at the house one last time. Every window except mine is dark, suffocatingly so. If I don’t do this tonight, will I ever get the nerve to try again? I can’t end up a total shut in all my life with only my mother and a spider for company.
“It’s okay to want a life,” I murmur, but my body is betraying me already, feet growing leaden, legs stiffening. Every instinct in me is screaming to go back inside.
“Seraphina?” Kaia gets out and drums an impatient rhythm on the roof. Her nose ring glitters under the streetlight above. “You coming or what?”
She’s going to flake out, she thinks at the same time. At least I got to see her in person for a second. She’s prettier than I’d imagined in a Wednesday Adams sort of way.
I almost open my mouth to argue before I remember that she’s only thinking this. Answering would unsettle her which I can’t risk because apart from Rose, she’s my only friend. I glance back at the house one last time, nerves thrumming, brain jumbled with my thoughts and Kaia’s. I give my head a little shake to clear it.
I’m not chickening out.
“Let’s go.” I force my body into motion, running to the car fast before I can change my mind.
Chapter 1