The Lost Saint(15)



I hit the brick wall of the pub and was momentarily stunned. Then I heard a smacking noise, like fist on face, and then something large stumbled over my feet. I looked down, expecting to find Daniel, but it was Pete who’d hit the ground right in front of me. I heard a louder thud and grunt, and Pete’s unnamed friend fell to his knees beside me, doubled over. Ty threw his hands up and backed away as fast as he could.

Pete moaned and wiped his bleeding nose. “You are a freak,” he said to Daniel as he slowly stood up. “Come on,” he said to his injured friend. “We don’t have time for this trash. Let’s go.” He spat a bloody loogie on the asphalt by my feet.

“You better watch your backs,” Pete called to us before he and the other two rejoined the group of guys. Their loud laughter echoed off the buildings around us as they took off down the street.

Daniel stood next to the Dumpster, his back to me. His shoulders heaved as he breathed in and out, and he clenched his hand over the wound in his arm.

“That was … awesome,” I said. “Who needs superpowers when you can fight like that?”

“Is that all you ever think about?” Daniel asked. “Damn superpowers?”

“What?” His words stung, but I guess I deserved his reproach for making light of the situation. I came up beside him and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything like that. You’re hurt. Let me see your arm. Are you okay?”

“No,” Daniel said, and shook off my touch. He pressed his injured arm against his chest so I couldn’t see his wound. “I need to go home.”

“You probably need to go to the hospital. I’ll drive you.”

“No, I don’t want you to.” He stumbled toward his motorcycle in the Day’s Market lot. “I just need to go home.”

I followed after him. “Are you in shock? You can’t drive a motorcycle like this. You probably need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine.” He climbed onto his bike, his arm still pressed into his chest.

“Damn it, Daniel. Let me help you.”

“You’ve helped enough already,” Daniel said, and kicked his bike to life. He twisted the throttle with his good hand, then flew out of the parking lot before I could respond.

He didn’t even look back to see me standing there, my arms at my sides, not knowing what on earth had just happened.

What did he mean by saying that I’d helped enough already?

I hadn’t been able to do anything.





HEADED HOME AGAIN




I sat in my car in the parking lot for a good ten minutes, debating whether or not I should follow Daniel home to make sure he got there all right. And then force him to go to the ER to get his cut checked out. But he’d been so adamant about not wanting me to help him that I worried he’d only get angrier if I showed up uninvited. Perhaps it was best to let him cool off. Maybe call him in a couple of hours to make sure he was okay.

But a creeping thought kept bothering me as I started my car. Was Daniel just pissed at me for causing that fight with Pete, or was it possible that he didn’t want my help because he thought I didn’t have enough control over my powers to handle the sight of his blood?

I turned on the car radio, trying to drown out my guilty thoughts, and listened to the news report on the local Rose Crest station. They were discussing the attempted break-in at the school and how it might relate to Day’s Market. The reporter speculated that the burglar must have been scared off somehow, because nothing was missing from the school. But, of course, the school’s security cameras were blank.

I flipped off the radio and discovered my phone ringing deep within my backpack, which I’d left in the car all afternoon. What kind of calls could I have missed? What if Jude had tried to contact me again?

I looked at the display and sighed with relief.

“Hey, Dad,” I said into the phone. “You got my messages?”

“Yes.” Dad sounded so tired, and I could barely hear him over the din on his end of the phone. “Tell me what happened?”

I told him all about the phone call from Jude, trying to recount it word for word. Then I told him about how Jude had been in Daniel’s apartment in Maryanne’s basement.

Dad was silent for a moment. “All this searching for him, and he was practically in our own backyard,” he finally said. He sounded angry, shocked, and relieved all at the same time. “Anything else? Have you heard from him again?”

“No.” I hesitated for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share Daniel’s theory with Dad, but I knew I shouldn’t hold anything back that might help find Jude. “Nothing definitive, anyway, but I think he may have actually been in our backyard.” I told Dad about James’s seeing something at his window, then the ransacking of Day’s Market, and the attempted break-in at the school.

“Daniel thinks it’s Jude.” I was just pulling into our driveway, and I decided to sit in the idling car until I was done talking to Dad—I didn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.

“That’s a logical conclusion,” Dad said. “It makes sense.”

“Does it? Why would he do those things? Why is he back?”

“I don’t know, Gracie.” He sighed, and I heard some announcer’s voice in the background. He must have been at an airport or a train station. “I really don’t know.”

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