Brigid Kemmerer - Secret

No one else saw this side of Nicholas Merrick. She’d always thought he had his life perfectly in order, with a college plan and a handle on everything. When they’d first started dating, she’d thought she’d finally found the perfect boy to latch on to.

Then she’d caught him kissing Adam, and there went that.

“I’m still waiting for your secret,” she whispered mockingly.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “I know.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never told anyone, and I’m not sure where to start.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re gay.”

He flung the hat at her. Quinn uncurled it and pulled it on her head backward. “Why don’t you tell me about the idiot in your driveway. His name is Tyler?”

“Tyler Morgan.” He hesitated. “His parents hated my parents. So much that Tyler grew up hating us. He used to go to school with Michael, but he’s a few years younger.” Another pause. “Tyler used to have a sister named Emily. She was in Michael’s class. She died in the old rock quarry south of Severna Park. There was a rock slide and she drowned.”

“When?”

“Five years ago. I don’t know a lot of the details, but Tyler thinks Michael had something to do with it.”

Quinn sat up straight. “Holy shit. Like . . . how? Like he built a bomb or something?”

Nick shook his head quickly. “No—nothing like that. Michael has . . . he has . . . we have this affinity for the—” He cut himself off and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, this is impossible. Everything sounds ridiculous, and I want you to believe me.”

She studied him, trying to puzzle this out for herself.

She was coming up with nothing.

Abruptly Nick stood and seized her by the hand. “Come on. We need to go outside. This will work better with show-and-tell.”

He trudged through the woods, dragging her behind him. She could feel the tension in his grip. Whatever his secret was, it had him keyed up. The sun had already begun to dip behind the horizon, letting a chill seep into the air.

“Keep walking,” he said. “I need some distance from the neighborhood.”

“Your secret is in the woods?” said Quinn, shivering. “Dude, if you turn into a werewolf, I am outta here .”

He smiled, then stopped and turned to face her. “I’m not a werewolf.”

“Vampire? Alien?” She snapped her fingers. “Harry Potter. Or wait, you’d be one of the Weasley twins . . .”

“If you could shut up a second, I’d tell you.”

“Should I hold your hands? Are we going to phase out and appear in Narnia?”

“No.” He glanced around. “If any trees fall, I don’t want them to hit a house.”

Trees falling? What? “So you’re secretly Paul Bunyan?”

“Quinn.”

She shivered again. “What? Seriously, Nick, what’s out here?”

“Air.” As he said the word, the breeze kicked up, finding a true wind that ruffled his hair and swirled between them. Leaves shifted and rustled along the ground.

Quinn frowned. “Air?”

Nick nodded. His expression said that she was missing something important.

But . . . air? Air was everywhere.

Leaves lifted from the ground and began to spiral around their feet. She started to shiver again—but then the leaves swirled off the ground, forming a moving wall to enclose them. First two feet high, then three, then eye level.

Quinn felt the first lick of fear. She moved closer to him—then wondered if that was worse than moving away. “You’re freaking me out a little, Nick. Is the mother ship landing?”

“Relax.” He spoke gently, confidently. “It’s just wind.”

She stepped away from him, but not too far. The swirling leaves remained out of her reach, and the wind caught her blond hair and tossed it across her face. “Are you doing this?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I’m feeding it energy.”

She looked at him again. “I don’t understand.”

“I can control air. Wind. Atmosphere. Whatever you want to call it.” He paused. “That’s how I choked Tyler.”

Quinn put a hand out. Leaves caught against her palm immediately, crumbling before getting swept into the maelstrom again. It wasn’t enough to disturb this mini-tornado. A bare path appeared on the ground where the wind continued to whip in a circle.

“You’re telling me you’re doing this all by yourself?” said Quinn. “No machine? No—”

“All me,” he said. “But the wind is willing.”

She turned to look at him again. “Okay. Make it stop.”

He didn’t move, but she felt the change. The wind in the clearing died. Leaves spun wildly and fluttered to the ground.

Quinn jammed her hands in her pockets and stood a few feet back from him. Her brain couldn’t wrap itself around this quickly enough. She wasn’t sure she wanted to believe him yet. This was a little too . . . weird. “So . . . what? Your brother blew that girl off a cliff?”

Nick’s eyes widened. “What? No. He’s not—Michael’s not an Air. He’s an Earth.”

Quinn licked her lips. “Do I need a twenty-sided die here, Nick?”

“Would you stop making jokes? I’m trying to explain this to you, and you’re—”

“Freaked out.” She took another step back from him, looking at the leaves that had fluttered to the ground. Nothing abnormal, no sign of any device that could have done . . . that.

Nick studied her. “Do you have your iPod?”

That was like asking if she’d brought her boobs along. Quinn fished it out of her pocket and held it out.

Nick shook his head. “You listen. Dance. Do that one you were doing the night I picked you up at the Y.”

When the hell had Nick Merrick gone insane? “You want me to dance right now?”

He nodded, looking perfectly serious.

“But you won’t hear the music.”

“I want to show you something.”

Quinn hesitated, figured she had nothing to lose, and plugged the buds into her ears. She had to close her eyes to shut out Nick’s searching face, but once the music caught her, he could have been an alien and she wouldn’t have cared.

She didn’t remember all the details of this routine, but Nick wouldn’t know the difference, and she was good at improvisation. Her weeks of studying with Adam had made her stronger, more balanced, and she could feel the difference even in something unpracticed. Her legs carried her through spins and leaps more effortlessly. She spun and dropped and flung her body into the rhythm, every movement punctuated perfectly.

Then she felt it. The air changed, as if the music could suddenly seep into her skin. Her movements had more energy, more control, and each time her feet left the ground, she felt vaguely like a marionette, suspended for just a fraction of a second too long—but effortlessly .

The dance changed against her will, turning from something she was doing with the music into something she was doing because of the music, as if the very song animated her body. Her next leap left her in the air for a moment too long. She almost lost the beat, and spun to find it. One foot, pivot, step, leap.

This time her height, her suspension in the air, was downright inhuman.

She stumbled on the landing, from shock more than anything. Nick caught her, his hands warm and steadying on her elbows. Quinn braced her hands on his chest, unsure whether she should shove him away or not. Her breaths came quick.

Frightened. She was frightened. She’d felt his power in the air.

Exactly how high had she gotten?

She yanked the earbuds free. “Did you do that?” she demanded.

His expression was guarded, but he nodded. “Yes.”