Infatuate Read online

  “It’s so freaking exhausting, though.” Her lifeless arm hung over the edge of the bed. “Why aren’t you worn-out by it all?”

  “I am. Trust me!” I shook my head. But getting to talk about this with someone new, someone besides Dante and Lance, was comforting.

  Her heavy lids fluttered closed. “So sleepy . . .”

  “Good, go to bed.” I tucked her arm back onto the bed and flipped off the light.

  When I finally nestled into my bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me, I suddenly remembered to check my cell. Reaching down to my bag on the floor, I fumbled around and pulled out my phone. A new message lit up, received just after ten o’clock tonight.

  Tomorrow you will begin training once more. Prepare for the unexpected, but trust in the merit of even the most unorthodox of practices.

  Those few words found a home at the pit of my stomach. I was so lost in my worries that I almost missed the flicker of light—on-off, so fast tonight—from that house across the way.

  9. I’m Sorry I Had to Do That

  The relentless pounding on the door just wouldn’t stop. It shook the entire wall, then the entire room. I even felt it rattling in my head. I expected to open my eyes and be back at the Lexington Hotel, when plenty of bad dreams, and worse realities, had begun that way. But this time it was outside our door.

  “Get up!” a voice shouted, punctuated by a BANG BANG BANG. I sprang up in bed. Sabine just moaned and rolled over. The room was still pitch-black, probably hours before dawn. My clock confirmed it: 4:04 a.m. The pounding came again. I flew down the ladder to answer it, but before I could get there, the door burst open from a swift kick. I gasped as Connor shone a flashlight at Sabine in bed—she just turned her head away—and then at me, standing there frozen.

  “Get up, ladies!” he barked at us. It was the version of Connor we had glimpsed at dinner, not the easygoing college guy who played pickup basketball games. “Never seen anyone move so slow! Five minutes to pack for the retreat. Meet in the common room. Go, go, go!”

  I was too stunned to even string words together but hungover Sabine managed to croak, “Where are we going?”

  “Four minutes!” he called on his way out the door.

  “But we don’t even know what to bring!” she cried out after him.

  “Three minutes!” He continued banging on other doors as he made his way down the hall.

  I finally found my voice again. “What’s with that guy? He started out so nice.”

  “Lunatic.” Sabine shook her head, then put her hand to it. “Owww.”

  Minutes later, Connor ushered us all outside, with hastily packed duffel bags and suitcases in tow. Fast, fast, fast, he marched us down to a van waiting in front of our house.

  The streets were deserted, the sky still black. No one spoke. The only sound was the soft, steady whoosh of tires on pavement as we rolled out of the city and onto empty country roads. Dante and a few others dozed. Brody played games on his phone. Lance and I took turns gazing out the window and watching Connor, who drove stone-faced. Even when our eyes connected in the rearview mirror, his glance betrayed not the slightest emotion. My mind raced through a million scenarios, all horrific, most involving some variation of Connor being one of them. As the first light of day broke on the horizon, we pulled off onto a dirt path leading back through lush tree-canopied land, the ground saturated beneath our wheels. “Off-roading, all right!” Brody whispered.

  Connor pulled right up to a small dock with a lone boat awaiting passengers. He stopped the van, opened the door, and waved us out. “All aboard!” he shouted.

  The deck swerved beneath me as I lunged to step in the boat, trying to secure my footing. A wooden bench ran down the middle of it, with seats on both sides. I took my place between Lance and Dante, who whispered, “So awesome. I’ve been dying for a swamp tour!”

  Thick cypress trees lined both banks, their heavy branches drooping to touch the wet ground. From the wild, overgrown vegetation surrounding us to the murky swamp water below, the world here consisted solely of a palette of greens, some vibrant, others viscous. Birds called out at the rising sun; a chorus of insects chirped in unison. Sabine was the last to board the boat, hesitating on the narrow, warped pier. At first I thought she was going to be sick—she was so hungover—but her ashen face seemed to register true fear.

  “C’mon, time to roll out,” Connor said, cutting her no slack. She shook her head, her feet rooted in place. Finally, he scooped her up in what would’ve been a bear hug under different circumstances and lifted her right into the boat. The rest of us watched, mouths agape. I squeezed closer to Lance and waved Sabine over to sit between me and Dante. She looked in my eyes only a second, then let her lids close. Her hands, folded primly on her lap, trembled. Connor took the helm and the motor sputtered and roared as we set off, skimming along the algae-coated water, cool wind whipping and a soft spray kicking up at us.

  Sabine looked like she was in pain; eyes still closed, she sat hunched, arms crossed. I put my hand on her back and asked, “Are you seasick? If you lean down and get blood rushing to your head, you’ll feel better.”

  “That’s not it,” she said flatly.

  Connor steered us into a narrow bend where a tree seemed to be growing right out of the water, and he cut the engine. Dante walked over to the railing, reaching out and letting his fingertips graze the Spanish moss hanging like fringed sleeves over the cypress branches. Max joined him. Collectively, our group loosened up.

  “I want y’all to breathe in that fresh swampy air!” Connor said, taking a deep breath. He pulled out a long stick propped against the engine and grabbed a white bag from the floor, tearing it open with his teeth. “Look alive,” he called to Dante, tossing something his way. Dante caught it and held it up: a campfire-suitable marshmallow.

  “Yum! Are we making s’mores?” he asked.

  “Nope!” Connor said cheerily. He speared a marshmallow with the stick and leaned over, tapping it in the water. “Check this out.” He waved. Everyone looked over, craning their necks. River got up to stand near Connor.

  “He looks like a mean motherf—” she said with a smile.

  “River,” Connor cut her off, with a laugh. “A quarter in the swear jar for you.”

  That’s when I saw its long pebbled form stealthily inching up in the water. It reached the marshmallow and rose, its jaw snapping at the stick and stealing the treat before sinking back into the swamp. Drew yelped. Max jumped back a step, looking sheepish. He fanned himself with his hat. There was applause and someone exclaimed, “Whoa!”

  “Hey, Lafitte, just wanted you to meet some friends,” Connor said to the gator.

  Lance chuckled. “He’s named after the pirate? Jean Lafitte? That’s hilarious.”

  “Smart man, thank you,” Connor said. “Yeah, there was always talk his treasure was buried here somewhere, so I thought it fit. Anyway, there are plenty more where Lafitte came from, along with all sorts of other wildlife that make this guy look like a kitten. We’ll be running trips here with some elementary school kids from the Ninth Ward. We’ll bring ’em out here next weekend, give ’em a tour, then go into town to this place famous for their fried catfish . . .” As he explained the details, baiting a stick with a marshmallow, I felt the tension in my body ease: it seemed the old Connor was back. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sabine had opened her eyes, but focused them on her feet, still looking pained.

  “Just wanna direct your attention over that way.” Connor pointed to a shack on stilts in the distance, perhaps a football field or two away. “That’s where we’re headed.” He paused. “But I’m afraid this is as far as I’m taking you.” We all looked at one another. It seemed everyone thought they had heard him wrong. Connor smiled, a devilish grin. “What? Y’all thought I was gonna give you door-to-door service? Gotta work for things around here.”

  “Um, do you want me to drive?” Max offered. “My uncle has a boat like this in Florida. I could—”

>   Connor started laughing. “You’re a sweet one, Max. But I don’t think y’all are getting it.” He walked the length of the boat. “You. Are. Going. To. Swim.” With each word he slammed the stick against the side railing, making us all jump. Then he stopped and smiled again.

  “We’ll be eaten alive,” Brody said, scowling in disbelief.

  “You can go first, buddy,” Connor said calmly.

  “You’re a nutcase.”

  “You’re going. Now.” With that, he smashed the stick against the railing, breaking it in two. “Get in there!” he yelled at Brody.

  “Why the hell would I do that?” Brody said, standing up, looking him in the eye. Lance stood now too, like he was ready to pounce. I sized everything up, thinking How can I get out of here? What’s my escape route?

  “Maybe because your life depends on it. All of you. Your lives depend on getting the hell in that water right now. Go, now!” he shouted. Brody still stood there and Connor grabbed him by the shirt, dragged him, kicking and flailing, to the railing and, in one swift motion, flung him in the swamp. Brody screamed as he splashed into the water. Connor lunged at Tom next, but Tom just sprang up and leapt off the railing himself, joining Brody, who had already begun swimming feverishly to shore. We were all on our feet now. Except Sabine, who dropped to her knees, breathing ragged. She was hyperventilating.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Connor yelled at us. Sticks in both hands now, he crashed them against every possible surface, swinging wildly, trying to hit us all like he was swatting flies. Everyone fled, sustaining sharp, stinging smacks in the process, some already flinging themselves from the railing to greet the horrors of the swamp rather than be left with Connor.

  Across the deck, Dante and Max, exchanging a quick glance, synchronized their jump, hitting the water together. Wailing now, Sabine cried, “I can’t go! I can’t!” amid the frenzied splashing below. Alligator jaws snapped across the water pursuing this stream of new prey. Connor had just finished pushing Drew in and he set his crazed eyes on me, Lance, and Sabine. Sabine’s body shook with fear and she had broken out into a sweat. Being pushed seemed a much worse way to go and no one had successfully fought Connor off yet. Lance jumped in and Connor turned his attention to me, swiping at my head then my feet. I pulled Sabine up onto the metal railing and tugged her until she fell over the side with me, screaming.

  The warm water washed over us, our legs kicking against so many obstacles: the brush of tangled plants reaching out, creatures traveling along beside us. Were they alligators? Or worse? I could feel them as I kicked to propel myself. We seemed surrounded. There was so much splashing it was impossible to tell who was responsible, man or beast. Connor ripped the boat’s engine back on and zipped past, spraying us. His eyes were fixed in the distance as he left us for dead without so much as a glance back.

  I had never been such a strong swimmer but I pushed through the water, relentless, my arms and legs burning, and caught up with the front of the pack. Sabine was a body length behind me, and her head bobbed under the water. She gasped, arms waving. I swam back, grabbing her around the waist, intending to swim ahead with her, when Lance appeared on the other side.

  “It’s okay, go on. I’ll take her in,” he said, his arm weaving around her, like a lifeguard. “Meet you on the shore.”

  I swam ahead, my limbs stinging. I could feel the gators clipping at my feet. I heard that pop of their snapping jaws all around us, and it only made me swim faster, overtaking Brody to reach land, where I dodged a trio of boars scavenging for food along the water’s edge.

  I saw something unusual halfway up toward that elevated shack—which looked as if it was made of rotting wood—and ran toward it, through wet, thick soil, tripping over the vinelike plants that ensnared me with each step. My left foot felt twice its normal size, stinging each time it hit the ground, but still I ran. Finally I reached it, regaining my breath as the others grew closer. A branch had been speared into the earth, like a javelin, with a sheet of paper hanging off one of its limbs. I ripped it off and read:

  Welcome Wing-Seekers,

  I’m your trainer and your guide. And I’m sorry I had to do that to you. Come on up, and I’ll explain everything. Promise.

  Connor

  Brody caught up with me first, then seconds later the rest of the group trickled in, fanning out around me. My mind tried to make sense of what I read in those few short sentences. Lance stepped forward from his perch beside Sabine, who sat on the ground. He took the paper from my hands, read it, and furrowed his brow in a way that said he couldn’t believe it either. I turned around, looking into each set of eyes as if it was my first time seeing them. How was it possible? Now, suddenly, different as my housemates all were, they felt like a part of me. I was comforted and yet . . . intimidated, too.

  The cabin was larger and far better appointed than I might’ve guessed from the outside. A long wooden table had been set with an array of sandwiches. The fridge had been fully stocked. All of our bags sat in a neat row in a spacious alcove where at least a dozen hammocks had been strung up on wooden posts. We had wandered up in complete silence, passing the note to one another, as though each of us felt that something so weighty needed to be experienced individually. It had been enough to think that Sabine was like Dante, Lance, and me, but this was more than I could begin to understand.

  “So we’ve got some stuff to talk about, huh, guys?” Connor’s voice had greeted us as we entered the cabin, all of us soaking wet and reeking of swamp water—a peculiar mix of fresh, overgrown plant life and something rancid. None of us said anything about being hungry or wanting to change out of our wet, miserable clothes. Instead, we all gathered quietly around the fireplace where Connor stood.

  “I want you all to take a look at yourselves,” he started. “You swam with alligators today. I watched you and you all got bitten. Every single one of you. Haven,” he singled me out. I jumped, startled to hear my name. “How’s your foot?”

  “Huh?” I asked. I had my legs curled under me on the floor, my wet jeans stiffening now as they dried. I stretched myself out and discovered a hole had been taken out of the side of my sneaker. I put my fingers through the gaping opening.

  “Yeah, you got a bite from a snapping turtle—those things are so nasty they eat gators. But what’s going on there? You’re missing part of a shoe and you’ve got a couple scratches.”

  I pulled up the leg of my jeans: no blood, just some red slashes. I nodded.

  “Check your limbs everyone—no one’s missing any limbs, right? Digits all intact? Anyone have anything more than a scrape?” We all looked ourselves over, watching one another from the corners of our eyes. “There’s a reason for that. You’re not human. Not anymore, at least.” He paused to let that fully sink in. “Everyone here has already passed a test. Am I right that you all faced some tough times last year?” He scanned our serious faces. After some shifting of eyes, a collective reluctance to give ourselves away, we all nodded. “You had to fight to save your souls? Well, sorry to say, the fight is going to get tougher. But you’re on your way to getting your wings. And I’m here to help. Any questions so far?” One by one, every hand went up.

  “All right, I’m not surprised.” He exhaled, gearing up for the attack. “Shoot.”

  What followed was the kind of rapid-fire press conference that happens on the news after some sort of crisis or natural disaster, when the networks need to preempt regularly scheduled programming.

  “Who the heck are you? What’s your story?” Brody called out.

  “Good question. All you need to know is I’m your best friend and occasionally, like today, your worst nightmare. I’m with the administration,” Connor said with finality, as if that was supposed to mean something to us. When he got no reaction, he went on. “They’re the governing body.”

  “Of, like, angels?” Dante asked in a tone that suggested he couldn’t believe he was actually asking a question like this out loud. He received a nod in confirmation. “A
re there elections? How do they work?”

  “Who cares,” River cut in. “Are you stronger than us?”

  Then miscellaneous questions from the rest of the group.

  Tom: “Why should we believe you?”

  Drew: “How do we get our wings?”

  Jimmy: “Whoa, so everyone went through crazy stuff before getting here?”

  “That was the first test,” Emma said, rolling her eyes, then she turned back to Connor. “There are three tests? So what’s the second one?”

  Max: “Do you know how we got this way?”

  Lance: “What can you tell us about the training we’ll be doing? And why, exactly, wasn’t even one of us eaten alive today? Given the speed of alligators, the sheer quantity of them, and the number of us invading their space, I don’t entirely understand why we’re all still breathing.”

  “Why did you do that to us?” Sabine spat the words, the bitterness in her voice putting a sudden stop to the barrage of questioning. I thought of Lance clutching Sabine, pulling her to safety through the water, and I felt a sickness at the pit of my stomach, which I wasn’t proud of.

  “Sabine.” Connor sighed, looking away for a moment, guilt setting into his eyes. “I didn’t want to have to do that. There will be more things I may do that I wish I didn’t have to. But to answer you both, a big part of our work together is on cultivating your overall sense of fearlessness. When you conquer your fear, you won’t believe what you’ll be capable of. But it’s much harder than you might think.”

  It finally hit me, and I had to ask. “So, that’s it then: we really are immortal now?” I felt everyone’s eyes on me and a deep hush fall over the room.