Waysider (The Voyants Book 1)

Chapter 35

He waited until his sister was asleep.

It didn’t sit well with Cal, leaving Cass after so much had happened. After he’d vanished for almost an entire day, gone to even he didn’t know where. One second, Cal had been in that creepy hospital, watching Patrick Doyle change before his eyes, and the next… nothing. There was an instant of terrible pain, as if someone were jerking out his intestines. Then darkness rushed in.

When Cal opened his eyes again, he’d been here, in Cass’s room at Else Bellows. It had taken exactly three seconds to see that she was in rough shape, so he’d stayed by her side the rest of the evening. Cass had another day of finals. She was already convinced she’d failed all the ones today—she didn’t say it, but Cal knew it was because of him. Because she’d been so worried. So Cal helped her study, and the normalcy of it calmed both of them down, he thought.

But now there was someone Cal needed to pay a visit to. For the first time since he’d begun his search, he actually knew where to go, since Laura was able to pinpoint her location in the spirit world just by putting her hand on a map. Cal had pretended not to notice how she hesitated, just for a moment, a shadow of doubt in Laura’s eyes as she glanced back at him.

He couldn’t wait anymore, not when his family’s safety depended on it.

The bus ride had taken longer than he thought it would, but it could’ve been far worse. Ricky had been hiding right beneath Cal’s nose, in Las Vegas. Maybe he’d thought a big city would help him blend in… or maybe it just never occurred to him that Cal would come looking.

Guess again, asshole, Cal thought. Hot anticipation surged through his veins. He kept his gaze on the landscape outside the window, even though it was too dark to make out anything. His mind was elsewhere, anyway.

But despite Cal’s distraction, his excitement, he was anxious to get back to Cass. The feeling made his eight-hour bus ride seem endless.

Eventually it did pull up to his stop. A single streetlight shone down, brightening the numbers on the mailbox. Cal confirmed this was the right place before he slid out of his seat. He walked past the few remaining passengers and got off the bus. The engine rumbled as it drove away, revealing the house on the other side of the street. Cal shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there for a moment, studying the place where Ramirez had been hiding all this time.

It was exactly what Cal had expected. Small, rundown. It was also in a neighborhood he wouldn’t have risked going to if he was alive. A place of chain link fences, dirt roads, and faces peeking behind thin, stained curtains. As Cal started toward the front door of Ricky Ramirez’s house, the neighbor’s dog sensed his presence and started barking frantically, spittle and foam flying from its mouth. Cal ignored it and went up the cracked, weedy path. He stopped in front of the door and tried to control the reaction coursing through him.

This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for since that black, terrible night when he’d lost everything. Cal knew he didn’t have a heartbeat, but he swore he could feel it racing. Slamming against the wall of his chest. Suddenly Cal couldn’t wait another second, and he went inside without any more hesitation.

The room was dark. Everything was covered in the glow from the TV, which blared against the far wall. A single armchair rested in front of it, and a familiar figure sat there, all his focus on the video game he was playing. Cal started walking toward him, his steps slow and deliberate. The boy in the chair went still, and slowly, he turned his head. The game kept going, flickering over half of his face.

And as familiar brown eyes met Cal’s, he discovered something else.

Ricky Ramierz was a powerful voyant.

“I remember you. You’re her brother.” His voice was soft, and there was no surprise in his expression. Ramirez had been expecting this.

Cal’s hands clenched. Rage simmered in his chest, and he struggled to contain it. “So you did target Cassie.”

Ricky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Cal hadn’t said it like a question, but Ricky still answered. “I was just doing what I was told,” he said.

Cal’s voice sharpened. “What do you mean? Someone else told you to hurt Cass?”

“I wasn’t supposed to live. That was never part of the plan. But then I was in the water, and… I got scared.” The boy whispered this last part, as if it were a shameful secret. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks now, and he didn’t try to wipe them away.

If he’d been hoping to make Cal feel sorry for him, Ricky had failed miserably. Cal watched him cry and all he felt was disgust. He could see the truth written all over Ricky’s tearstained face. He didn’t regret what he’d done to them—he regretted that he hadn’t had the guts to die with them.

And that was when Cal Ryan made his decision.

A strange calm stole over him. He scanned the rest of the room, noting every detail with cool efficiency. Ricky Ramirez had been living like a rat. The air smelled stale. A small basket in the corner spilled over with garbage. Piles of clothing littered the floor, along with empty beer cans and crumpled pizza boxes. Every surface was completely covered in food-crusted dishes, balled-up paper bags, and empty wrappers. It was as if Ricky had been too afraid to leave the room.

Or let anyone else in.

Smart. Just not smart enough, Cal thought. He fixed his cold blue eyes back on the boy. He didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Who sent you? Is Cass still in danger?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t disappoint him again.” Ricky’s chin wobbled, but something in him hardened as he met Cal’s gaze and said, “You will never get an answer to your questions. Not from me.”

Cal fell silent. He evaluated Ricky’s expression again, and he saw something that made Cal believe him. “The truth is, I didn’t come here to find out why you tried to kill my sister,” he said.

Confusion twisted Ricky’s expression. “Then why are you here?”

There was a long, bloated pause. Then Cal replied, his voice eerily distant, “To make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

He flew at Ricky, and his arms moved in a blur. Before Ricky could even scream, there were fingers wrapped around his throat, digging into his flesh like steel. Cal lifted him from the chair.

“How?” Ricky rasped, clawing at Cal’s wrists. Squirming like a bug pinned to a board.

Cal only tightened his fingers, his face pitiless. And there was still no emotion in his voice as he said, “You can wonder about that while you’re on the other side. The questions will torment you. You’ll relive this moment over and over, thinking about what you could’ve done differently. Just like I did.”

Ricky made a gurgling sound and kept trying to hit Cal’s arms. But Cal didn’t feel a single blow. His grip didn’t falter. The truth was simple—he’d been practicing. Every spare moment over the past five months, whenever he wasn’t with Cass or Laura, Cal returned to the overlook and worked on his ability to affect the other side. With the same rigid discipline and relentless focus that had earned him so much merit on the football field, he’d gotten stronger. Better. He’d moved rocks, leaves, branches. He’d trained his mind to accept that pain was an illusion, along with any human limitations. He still hadn’t managed to teleport yet, but Cal excelled at the rest like he’d excelled at anything he decided to get good at.

Now, at last, he used that hard-won strength for the purpose he’d intended all along.

As Cal watched the light fade from Ricky Ramirez’s eyes, his hard expression never cracked and his grip didn’t relent. Not even when the boy hung limply from his fists, his swollen, slightly purple features twisted in terror.

Cal waited another minute before he finally let go, letting Ricky fall to the shag carpet in a graceless heap. After that, he stepped over the body and walked back toward the door. He wrapped his hand around the knob, twisting it without any effort. Hinges whimpered into the quiet as Cal left.

He closed the door firmly behind him.