Willing (The Un #1)

4. Chloe

Four

Chloe

The pain behind my ribs gradually fades away as the sun fully rises. Softening to a faint throb that’s easy to ignore unless I purposely focus on it.

The hysteria I was experiencing also seems to lessen, bringing me out of my temporary psychosis. Allowing me to get a grip on my actions.

I have no doubt that my many prayers to Saint Benedict have worked, but I can’t deny that the two events are clearly connected.

My shadow stalker has to sleep during the day. Until night falls, whatever power he has over me is weakened.

Which means all hope is not lost. I still have a few hours to do something about the situation.

Before it’s too late…

As time puts more and more distance between me and the dream, logic returns. The panic doesn’t completely disappear, but it becomes more manageable.

I can breathe. I can think. I can plan.

I can figure a way out of the mess.

The first thing I do is throw myself in the shower and start scrubbing. My mind races a million miles a minute as I wash his phantom touch from my body, paying extra attention to my neck. I go over every little rule the Order taught me about my curse, and the consequences of becoming careless and ignoring them.

Rules about watching for and reporting any signs of a connection.

Up until now, I haven’t really felt any threat of him being closer.

Except for a few days ago, when the first dream of him came… That dream wasn’t nearly intense though so I brushed it off as my own overactive imagination.

I thought my loneliness was starting to get to me and it was just a dirty dream. Something I’ve been warned that can happen over time.

I know some of the other cursed girls like me, girls who bear the mark on their body, have strong intuitions. Whenever their danger is close, their mark will warn them.

But my mark hasn’t done a thing. At least, anything I’ve been aware of.

Lowering my loofah, I rub it over my mark experimentally, expecting to feel a tingle or some kind of jolting shock.

All I feel is the soft mesh of the loofah scraping against my flesh. My mark isn’t alive or sensitive to sensation. It’s just skin that feels like the rest of my skin.

Maybe I’m broken …

That thought almost causes laughter to bubble out of me.

Squeezing out the loofah, I swallow down the bout of hysteria then toss it onto the shelf.

I’m broken alright.

My mark is broken just like my poor brain.

Turning off the shower, I grab the closest towel and wrap it tightly around my body.

Leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me, I walk up to my nightstand and grab my phone. First, I check the time. It’s just after eight. Then I check my missed messages.

I have one message from Isaac. It’s the good morning message he sends every day to remind me of his existence.

Out of habit I start to type good morning back to him but think better of it. If I text him back, he’ll probably answer right away and start asking all kinds of questions. He always wants to know what plans I have for the day, and what I plan on eating.

I really need to call Father McCall first and let him know what happened.

Bracing myself for an unpleasant conversation, I quickly dial Father McCall’s number and press my phone right up to my wet ear.

The phone rings and rings until I get his voicemail.

Frowning, I hang up and dial his number again.

The phone rings and rings with no answer.

I consider leaving a message, but I don’t even know what to say. I can’t explain what happened. Not in a voicemail, anyway.

I could leave my secret codeword, but that would cause a team to be immediately dispatched to my location. The codeword is only to be used in a dire emergency.

Is this even an emergency?

My mark isn’t throbbing or tingling. I have no proof I’m in any danger. I only have a nightmare.

A nightmare that’s becoming sillier and sillier the more I think about it.

In fact, I don’t even know why I freaked out like I did.

It was just a dream. A stupid wet dream that doesn’t bear repeating.

Not to anyone in the Order, at least. And especially not to Father McCall.

If anything, he’d probably command me to kneel on pencils and repeat the Hail Mary until my tongue falls off for having impure thoughts.

But maybe Isaac would understand. Maybe he can help me feel not so stupid about all of this.

Rubbing my phone screen off on my towel, I dial Isaac’s number and press it back against my wet ear.

The phone rings twice before he answers.

“Hey,” Isaac tries to say casually, but there’s surprise and a touch of worry in his voice. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say immediately, but even I can hear how much it sounds like a lie.

“You sure?”

I scowl at his suspicion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

“Because you never call me.”

I sigh.

“And I know you, Chloe,” he says. “I can tell something is wrong.”

Shaking my head, I start to roll my eyes, only to stop when he says, “Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know I’m right.”

“I’m not rolling my eyes,” I say defensively.

“Oh, that’s another lie,” he says, his voice teasing now,

I start to roll my eyes again.

“Stop rolling your eyes at me.”

“You—”

Isaac chuckles some more, cutting me off.

Sighing into the phone, I wait until his chuckles die down.

I’m not irritated though. Not really. It’s always been like this between us. Well, at least since we were kids.

He teases me, and I pretend to be irritated or offended and try to tease him back.

It’s a game. A game I didn’t realize I missed…

“Okay,” he says, only a hint of laughter in his voice now. “You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I deny again, though I don’t know why I’m denying it so hard.

Maybe it’s because the whole situation is extremely embarrassing.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he says, not believing me.

Groaning, I admit, “I tried to call Father McCall and he didn’t pick up.”

There’s a long moment of silence. I don’t know why he’s gone quiet at first but then I realize I probably offended him by admitting I only called him because I couldn’t reach Father McCall first.

“Oh, okay,” Isaac says, his tone no longer warm. “Why are you trying to reach Father McCall?”

There are miles and miles between us, but I can feel the tension coming through the phone as if he’s standing right here in front of me.

When we were growing up, Isaac and I were very close and nearly inseparable. Sister Edna often accused us of being joined at the hip. Both orphaned and living in a remote convent, it was only natural that we would gravitate toward each other and come to rely on each other.

With no other children around, we did everything together. We played together, we learned together, and we grew together. We were together every day, nearly every minute. Being together that much, we weren’t just friends, we were practically siblings.

He’s like my brother… the only family I’ve ever had.

Sure, there were plenty of nuns around to give us attention. Nuns to scold us. Nuns to punish us, even when we didn’t deserve it. A couple of nuns could even be considered sweet and affectionate.

They never stuck around though, not long enough to become family.

Sister Edna was the only constant.

And that woman was anything and everything but affectionate.

So there was only Isaac.

Isaac who was always there for me, sticking up for me when I needed it. Isaac who isn’t cursed and couldn’t stand the way some of the nuns looked at me and treated me like I was some kind of demon.

More than one nun was sent on her way with tears in her eyes or screams pouring from her lips from one of the malicious pranks he liked to call paybacks.

The one time I tried to point out he was committing one of the seven deadly sins—wrath—he promptly corrected me. It wasn’t wrath or revenge, it was justice .

I wasn’t fully convinced that’s what it was, but he was my brother so I didn’t question him about it again.

Then the day came when Isaac turned fifteen and Father McCall came to visit the convent. We both thought he was there to celebrate Isaac’s birthday, but all he did was glare and scowl at the two of us.

He took Isaac with him when he left.

During one of my crying fits, Sister Edna took pity on me and explained it wasn’t because I’m cursed or did anything wrong.

Isaac had to go because he was becoming a man.

When I asked why becoming a man was a bad thing, she slapped me on the back of the head with a ruler and called me stupid.

I didn’t understand what she meant until I had my first period. Then everything was explained to me with painful clarity. Even if I think of him only as a brother, the Order isn’t willing to risk us becoming closer.

It’s been more than five years since Isaac and I have been able to see each other in the flesh.

“I just wanted to ask him a question, but it’s really not important now,” I say dismissively, trying to downplay the whole thing so he doesn’t feel insulted.

“What was the question? Maybe I can help?”

I thought he could help when I made the call, it’s why I called him in the first place. But now that I actually have him on the line, I can’t figure out a way to explain the nightmare I had in a way that doesn’t make me look like a total freak.

Would Isaac judge me if I told him the truth? Or at least what I remember of it?

Probably.

He’s just as devout as I am, if not more.

“I… it’s nothing important,” I say. “I’ll just wait for Father McCall to call me back.”

Isaac makes a small sound like he’s snorting through his nose in annoyance. “Well, you could be waiting awhile. McCall got called out for an emergency, and you know how those go.”

A chill suddenly creeps down my spine.

An emergency usually only means one thing—one of the other cursed girls is in danger.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, trying to keep my sudden apprehension out of my voice.

“Yeah. You know I can’t give you any specific details, but the situation isn’t good.”

Damn it. That’s not what I want to hear right now. Not when my own monster could be right on my heels.

“You sure you don’t want to ask me your question?”

I open my mouth, ready to tell him I’ll just wait on Father McCall.

But he adds, “You know I’ve been studying the mark for years, and you can trust me. I would never judge you. No matter what it is, it stays between us.”

My finger aches to hit the disconnect button, to avoid telling him what’s starting to feel more and more like a dirty secret.

But if I hang up, I know I’ll spend all day worrying.

And I could be worrying over nothing.

I need to make a decision, an informed decision about whether I should start packing or not. Especially if the Order is already helping a girl who is in danger. I don’t want to pull resources away from her.

Not if I don’t need them.

I close my eyes, gathering courage, then cringe when I say, “I had a dream last night.”

“A dream?” Isaac repeats like it’s the last thing he expected me to say.

“Yeah, a dream,” I sigh, already feeling embarrassed.

This was a mistake. I knew it.

“What kind of dream?” Isaac presses.

I groan, not even sure where to begin.

“ Chloe ,” Isaac practically growls. “What kind of dream?”

“I don’t know,” I say and throw one hand up in the air in frustration.

I do know, I just don’t want to say it.

“If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t be trying to call Father McCall about it, so stop fibbing. Something about it is obviously worrying you. Just tell me ,” Isaac says angrily.

The way Isaac says those last two words…

It’s almost the way he said it.

I can feel him above me.

The weight of his will pressing down on me…

I can hear his words in my head again. “ Chloe, tell me where you are .”

“Chloe?” Isaac says, then repeats it more forcibly when I don’t respond immediately. “ Chloe .”

Shaking my head, I snap out of my trance.

“Are you still there?” Isaac asks.

As quick as it came, the memory disappears.

Taking a deep breath, I try to regain my composure. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Isaac makes a sound of relief. “It’s okay. It’s no problem at all.”

When I don’t respond to that, he clears his throat. “So, you had a dream… What was the dream about?”

I take a moment, trying to find the right word, but the only word that comes to me is, “Him.”

That’s all he is to me… a him . A thing that’s been hunting me. A thing that’s stolen my life from me. He might have a name but I don’t know it, and I have absolutely no desire to name him or humanize him.

“Oh,” Isaac says, catching on quickly and saving me from having to explain exactly who I’m referring to.

His next words are strained, like he doesn’t even want to say them. “What happened in the dream… with him?”

There’s no tactful way to explain it. What he did. What I felt.

My voice drops to a shame-filled whisper, hoping God won’t hear me as I admit, “He was in my bed with me.”

I hear Isaac suck in a sharp breath.

And the shame I feel only increases.

He must think the worst of me.

I’m fully expecting him to lecture me, to call me a dirty whore, or hang up on me.

But he doesn’t.

After a couple of heartbeats, he simply asks, “Did you feel anything coming from your mark?”

“No,” I answer.

I spent part of my shower checking for that.

“Are you sure? You don’t feel a tingling? Or a throbbing? Nothing like that?”

I shake my head even though I know he can’t see it. “I’ve felt nothing from my mark.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You would feel it through your mark if he was near you.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

“Did anything else happen?” Isaac asks with a touch of impatience.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about my little slip. How I almost told him where I am.

But something holds me back.

I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I’ve already gone through so much humiliation and shame already… but I can’t bring myself to admit what I did.

The words just won’t push past my lips.

“No, nothing else happened. I was just… disturbed by the dream and feared the worst.”

Isaac’s voice softens with a mixture of relief and sympathy. “That’s understandable. It can’t be easy living on the run, like you do.”

His understanding catches me so off guard I don’t know how to respond.

No one else in the Order has ever said anything like it to me. No one. Not Sister Edna, not Father McCall, and certainly not any of the other clergy I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with. No one in the Order has ever hinted at having any sympathy or compassion for my plight.

So why does it make me feel so uncomfortable that Isaac sees me different? That he understands? He’s like a brother to me, it should feel good that he knows me and gets me.

But it doesn’t.

It feels weird and somehow a little too intimate.

“Chloe? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I respond out of reflex, still stuck inside my head. “I’m still here, but I’ve got to go now. I need to get ready for work.”

Isaac doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment when he says, “Oh, okay.”

And that just makes this whole thing feel even weirder.

“It was great talking to you. Thank you for being there for me. I really appreciate it!” I say quickly, ready to hang up on him.

The sudden need to end the call is growing stronger and stronger by the second.

“Of course. I’m here anytime you need me.”

“Thanks!” I say a little too cheerfully and quickly press the disconnect button.

Almost instantly, a strong sense of relief washes over me to be done with that conversation.

Before I can figure out why I’m feeling so much relief, my phone buzzes in my hand.

I know it’s from Isaac before I even look at it. Who else could it be? He’s the only one I talk to besides my roommate. And if Charity has something to say to me, she’ll bang on my door to say it.

I don’t why, but I don’t want to look at his message. I’d rather avoid it. Which is beyond strange and doesn’t make any sense.

It’s just Isaac, what’s the big deal?

So what if the end of our talk was a little awkward?

I glance at my phone, but the screen is blurry from all the water that dripped from my hair.

Making a sound of frustration, I wipe my phone quickly off on my towel and bring it back up to my face.

Issac: Call me right away if you feel anything strange.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his paranoia.

He said it himself. My mark hasn’t done anything, so I’m safe. It was simply a stupid dream, and I was stupid for getting worked up over it.

I’m just about to set my phone back on the nightstand when my it buzzes again.

It’s another text from Isaac: And don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m serious. If your mark does anything, hide somewhere safe and call me. I’ll come right away.

Almost rolling my eyes again, I text him back: Ok .

My phone buzzes almost instantaneously.

Isaac: And don’t forget to eat something.