Six Branches Read online

Lucas smiles softly. I decide to go with my baser instincts, just this once.

  Sensing my resolve, Lucas wastes no time dragging me from the hallway and out the exit next to it. “Lyle, you need to call—”

  “On it.” I glance back to catch a glimpse of Lyle typing away on his phone.

  I turn back around to keep up with Lucas’s quick march across campus.

  We head toward Greek row, where all the student houses are. Fraternities and sororities own most of the houses, hence the nickname. Are the twins in a frat?

  Lucas interrupts my internal debate. “When we moved here two years ago, we bought a house with our friends. That’s where we’re taking you. Some of us are students like me and Lyle, while others have jobs.”

  I nod, more curious than ever to discover who these guys are. What kind of student buys a house with their friends? Some of the people I know rent, but I never met anyone who could buy a home.

  While still trying to wrap my head around my growing pile of questions, we stop in front of a beautiful Victorian style home. It’s huge, easily one of the largest on the block at three stories. The outside is a buttery yellow with white trim. A white fence and matching porch give it such a Better Homes and Garden feel that I can’t help but chuckle. The house is way too pretty for a bunch of college guys.

  Lucas flashes a Mona Lisa grin at me as he opens the door to the house. I half expect him to call me out on my obvious amusement, but he says nothing. He retains his composure long enough to make a grand sweeping gesture, ushering me into his daisy house.

  I let out another chortle matching the ones I hear from the twins behind me. Lucas would make a terrible butler. I just met the striking athlete, but even I know Lucas could never be serious enough for that sort of job. At my first glimpse of the front hallway, I forget all about Lucas’s future career in the service industry. Deep rose walls are offset with a polished cherry-wood floor, lit by a small chandelier set in the middle of the entryway. Awe washes away the buzz of my questions and anxiety, if only for a moment. Six closed doors line the walls, three on each side. The only other thing visible is a staircase at the end of the long hallway. Lucas walks toward the staircase, and I think we’re going to go up to the second floor, but instead, he stops in front of the last door on the right.

  Lucas pauses, his hand hovering over the doorknob. At his hesitation, Lyle turns me to face him, his expression solemn.

  He must be the serious one. Oddly, it makes sense. Lucas and Lyle balance each other out, yin and yang. Serious and lively, with just enough mischief to be dangerous. Dangerous for whom, I’m not sure, but they’ve certainly handled me quite easily.

  Lyle holds my gaze. “Several of our roommates are here already. They’re excited to meet you. I just want to warn you they might seem a little… enthusiastic, but I promise you we will explain everything we can and answer your questions before we ask our own.”

  Any information is better than none at this point, so I let it go for now. Taking a breath for courage, I motion for Lucas to open the door. As we step into the room, the air I drew rapidly escapes my lungs. If I thought the outside of the house and hallway were impressive, nothing prepared me for the room we enter.

  Opposite the door and in my line of sight, big bay windows cover half the wall. Across the room, bookcases stuffed with volumes surround a large fireplace. The enormous white rug in front of the fireplace offsets the golden creme of the walls, giving the room an elegant, yet cozy feel. A few chairs are set in front of the fireplace. More bookcases cover the wall on my left, accompanied by a few more chairs.

  My eyes widen as I try to fathom how many books Lucas and Lyle own. I shake my head. I have no space in my head to puzzle out anything else right now.

  Settled on the remaining wall is a large television with a leather couch positioned in an ‘L’ shape, with one lone armchair facing the couch. Two men sit on the couch facing away from me so I only see the backs of their heads. A third man in the chair faces my direction.

  Preoccupation with the sophisticated surroundings clears as I realize the man facing me is none other than Professor Evans himself.

  “Well, that answers one question,” I mutter as I walk toward the couch, wanting to see the other two men.

  Professor Evans is dressed much like he was in class, business-casual slacks and a button-up, but there’s something different about him now. As I step closer, I realize his features have softened. He’s more relaxed and less aloof than he was in class. He really is friends with the twins.

  With a start, I remember the twins mentioned the men in the room were their roommates.

  How does a professor come to live in a house with a bunch of students? Yet another question to add to the ever-growing pile. My head feels stuffed with too many unknowns festering like week-old garbage.

  I find myself speeding up to cross the large room quicker, eager to sit down and get some answers. When I reach the TV area and turn to face the other two housemates, I receive another surprise. I recognize one of them as Sebastian, the golden-haired beauty from Professor Evans’ class.

  The pounding in my head increases, and I turn my attention away from those baby-blue eyes to the only person in the room I don’t recognize.

  But, oh boy, do I wish I knew him. With a sense of déjà vu, I find myself attracted to the new stranger as easily as I was to his roommates, despite my twenty years of not even a schoolgirl crush.

  Now you have four, the snarky voice at the back of my mind pipes in, but I ignore it. There will be plenty of time to analyze that particular development later.

  Without a doubt, the new guy is sexy. I can’t help my slow perusal of his herculean arms and broad shoulders. Incredible artwork covers his right arm, and I take my time deciphering the different pieces. I’ve always had a thing for tattoos and the way they tell the stories of their bearer without a sound.

  If a manual existed for how to look like a bad boy, this guy’s face would be all over it with its perfect mix of rugged and chiseled. When I make my way to his hooded, slate-gray eyes, they twinkle at me. The corners of his mouth twitch in obvious amusement at my appreciation of his goods, but I don’t feel embarrassed.

  Instead, I grin at him and wink. Recklessness courses through my blood. This whole situation has taken me out of my comfort zone, and I respond with more boldness than I have used in my twenty years of life.

  Those hooded eyes widen a bit but return my wink before his mouth morphs into a slow smile that does odd things to my poor heart.

  Lucas tugs me forward and sits me in between him and Lyle in the middle of the couch. As I settle into the couch, the bare skin on my arms buzz with pleasure where it touches the twins, and a wave of warmth spreads over my body. Soft and relaxing, like a hug from a good friend or a warm blanket. My worries and panic ebb away.

  While I still have questions, now that I am touching the twins, I don’t feel the same urgency as before to find answers. A brief pause fills the room before Professor Evans clears his throat and opens his mouth.

  Before he can speak, Lucas interrupts to introduce the other two sitting on the couch with us. I already know Sebastian and nod at him before turning to sexy tattoo guy, whose name I learn is Forrest. He nods in greeting. I, however, find myself a little dazed and am still staring at Forrest when Lucas reintroduces me to Professor Evans.

  As I turn to face him, the corners of his mouth tip up in greeting. “Rose, it’s nice to see you again.”

  He seems relaxed, but I don’t know for certain what he’s thinking. Like yesterday, the only part of his face that shows genuine emotion are those forest-green eyes. Questions about yesterday’s incident threaten to spill out, but I reign them in and choose instead to go with simple politeness; no need to revisit anything yet.

  “Yes, thank you for… um… having me, Professor Evans.” My attempt to masquerade as a functioning adult falls flat as I trip over my words. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lucas’s visible amusement at our exch
ange.

  “Jackson.”

  I bring my attention back to the professor. “Huh?”

  Brilliant conversationalist, this one.

  “Please, call me Jackson.” Professor Evans’ mask of casual confidence slips a bit to reveal a somewhat pained expression.

  I gather he doesn’t want to be reminded of his status, so I nod in affirmation. This whole day has gone nightmare-side of strange; one more oddity won’t hurt. I can call my professor by his first name.

  Still looking uncomfortable, Jackson also nods. I’m pretty sure he feels guilty about our previous encounter, but he doesn’t mention it.

  Instead, he starts off on some weird history lesson. “In Ancient Greece, they worshipped many gods and goddesses. Are you familiar with the stories?”

  I turn to the guys on my left, incredulous.

  Lyle rolls his eyes. “Bro, maybe start with some information. You left her hanging yesterday, remember?”

  At his words, Forrest sits up, his eyes blazing at the professor. “You did what?”

  Dr. Evans, er, Jackson, lowers his focus to the armrest of his chair, picking at the material. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens those dark green irises and turns them on me, remorse fills them.

  “I am truly sorry for leaving you like that yesterday. I was… surprised.” At the last word, he glares at Sebastian, who smiles serenely back. “But that is no excuse for negligence. Please, forgive me.”

  At his distraught expression, I quickly offer, “It’s okay, I was overwhelmed, too.”

  A surprisingly boyish smile spreads over his face and a small head bow indicates his gratitude at my easy forgiveness. After Jackson sits back in his chair, Forrest reassembles his face into that don’t-give-a-flying-potato air he wore when I walked in.

  I, for one, am a little taken aback by the intensity of what just happened. Lyle notices my agitation and reaches over to clasp my hand in his. He draws circles on the back of it with his thumb. I find the feel of his hand in mine, and the rhythmic circling of his thumb, incredibly soothing, which is odd since I’ve never been one to find comfort in physical touch.

  Until today, apparently.

  “Maybe we should start with answering your questions,” Jackson offers. “That might be easiest.”

  I nod. When he says nothing more, his eyes expectant, I realize he’s waiting for me to ask my questions. A small part of me hoped he would read them from my mind or something. Instead, I take a breath before speaking, anxious to get some of the questions out and stop the buzzing in my head that started the moment I entered this stupidly picturesque house.

  “Why did our hands hurt when they touched? Who are you? How do you know me? Do you know me? How do you know each other? Who are you?” Flustered, I realize too late I repeated the last question but brush it off. I really want to know who they are.

  And what they want with me, the voice in the back of my mind adds.

  The corners of Jackson’s mouth slip up and for the first time since we’ve met, genuine warmth reaches his eyes, which pool into a lighter shade of green. “Let’s start with the repeated question. I think, in order to answer, I shouldn’t tell you who we are but, rather, what we are.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re aliens,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  Lucas guffaws, but the rest of the group has the decency to chuckle quietly.

  “Er, no. Actually we—”

  “Vampires! It makes sense, it totally makes sense.” Unable to stop myself now, my mouth completely detaches itself from my brain and turns into someone who doesn’t mind interrupting professors and probably goes by the name of Susie. I can’t remember the last time I interrupted someone, but with the possibility of vampires and aliens, Susie does me in.

  Jackson raises his eyebrow, waiting for me to quiet before he continues. “I am not even going to ask why it makes sense, as you put it, but none of us are vampires. Though the vampiric legends do originate with our people, it’s a lesson for another time. We are called—”

  “The Nephilim! You’re fallen angels, aren’t you? I knew it. Especially Sexy Badass.”

  Sexy Badass, otherwise known as Forrest, shoots me another slow grin, and I turn away before I do what Susie begs me to do and lick his tattoos.

  Jackson huffs, but his voice remains pleasant as he tries to continue his explanation. “No. And please refrain from calling Forrest that. It’s disturbingly accurate, and I don’t know how I feel about it. Now, please remain quiet while I explain. I promise you can ask your questions after.”

  My sudden departure from reason, otherwise known as Susie, leaves me. With a squeaked affirmative, I settle back between the twins. Lyle winks and rubs my arm. I sigh and offer a grateful smile, ready to listen.

  Jackson’s eyes brew an even lighter shade of honey-green as he watches us before beginning again. “Great. As I was saying, we are called the Phósopoi. No one knows what the catalyst for our creation was, though it is theorized dark magic and science were involved.” Jackson pauses.

  “Whatever the case, the first Phósopoi were found in Greece thousands of years ago. We are human but with mutated genes. Over the centuries we have been born and bred all over the world.”

  “Like X-Men?” I question, biting back the laughter that wants to burst out at his ridiculous explanation.

  While I started this conversation off on the weird side, no way do I buy into this being the real reason for our weird connection. It all sounds too science fiction-y for me. Not one to pass judgment before hearing all the facts, I give Jackson the benefit of the doubt. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sebastian’s serene smile deepen at my question.

  We both remain silent as we listen to Jackson’s answer. “Yes. Like X-Men. And like those fictional characters, our mutations give us certain abilities.”

  “So, you have superpowers?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  I push my fingers against my temple, trying to quell the headache forming there. My earlier doubts swirl around my personal observations and what Jackson tells me. It doesn’t seem logical, and my initial reaction is disbelief, but then I remember what happened with the twins in the hallway.

  Those feelings of complete trust, the way I followed two strange men willingly, and most of all, the way I allowed Lucas to kiss me. If that wasn’t some sort of superpower then something was definitely wrong with me.

  However, powers or not, I still have too many questions left unanswered. “That doesn’t explain the pinpricks and heat thing, or me.”

  “I’m getting to you in a second, Rose. As I was saying, we are called the Phósopoi. Some Phósopoi are born with Gifts, superpowers as you mentioned. But these Gifts can be unpredictable if left unchecked, like a power source with too much voltage.” Jackson pauses to see if I understand.

  I motion for him to continue.

  “A Phósopoi who is born with a Gift can access only a part of it. In order to fully realize the potential of his or her Gifts, they need an anchor to keep them grounded. These anchors are called the Agora. They unlock the full potential for the Gifted Phósopoi through a Bond. There can be one, two, or more Gifted Phósopoi for each Agora. The Gifted Phósopoi are called Kladí, or ‘branch,’ and not every Kladí is lucky enough to have an Agora.”

  “Which are you?”

  “I am a Kladí.”

  “Oh.” Despite this all sounding insane, it sort of makes sense for Jackson to be the Agora, or whatever, for the twins. I suspend my disbelief for a few more minutes in favor of satisfying my curiosity. “Where’s your Agora? Do you have one?”

  Jackson smiles at me but says nothing, as if waiting for me to reach my own conclusion.

  I don’t see how this explanation has anything to do with me unless—

  “What? I’m your Agora? That’s impossible,” I screech, ripping my arm from Lucas’s calming fingers. I don’t want to be calm right now. This is ludicrous!

  “Not impossible. The sensa
tion you felt when we touched palm-to-palm is what a Phósopoi feels when they recognize their Kladí or Agora for the first time. It is the first strings of the Bond.”

  “No way. This is some kind of mistake. I’m human.” I gesture to my arm as if to show off the obvious flesh-covered bone. See? Human.

  I realize my mistake since, admittedly, everyone in the room has arms. Two, in fact. That’s the normal number and they appear in no way different from anyone else, despite their claimed status as mutants. For once, my mind goes blank, quelling any more idiotic outbursts. I don’t even know if I believe Jackson’s weird history lesson, but I know I don’t want to be a part of it.

  Jackson purses his lips and eyes the others for a moment before gently saying, “There is no mistake. We knew our Agora would be at this school. We waited two years, and there was no one who triggered the pre-Bond. Only one can trigger it; you, Rose. You are our Agora; you are a Phósopoi. And in the back of your mind, you know it to be true.”

  “Yeah?” I challenge, not caring how rude I sound.

  “Have you found that people tend to do what you tell them? Especially when you’re upset?” Sebastian interjects softly.

  Unbidden, I’m pulled into one of the places I hide away. One of the boxes I keep stored in the back of my mind comes undone at those words. Images from my past sneak past the shields I erected to keep them from my waking hours.

  Big, hairy knuckles come into view, their fat fingers reaching for my dress. Scared, I don’t want him to touch me.

  “No,” I scream. “Go away!”

  The man’s eyes glaze over, and he leaves the room mechanically, as if controlled by some giant puppet master.

  That was the first time I realized I could force my will on others.

  But not the last.

  I shove those images back into the recesses of my brain, to the dark corner where they belong. My demons already control my dream hours. I won’t let them rule the daylight as well.

  “How… how did you know?” I ask quietly.

  My lips taste salty from the rivers of tears running down my face. No one has ever understood my strangeness. Those caught by my weird power can’t explain why they did what I wished and neither can I. It’s the main reason I’ve been through so many foster homes.