The Storm and the Darkness Read Free Page A

leaving, but it started to develop into a feeling that was almost worse: doubt. Doubt that she was being completely honest with him about her reason for leaving. Maybe he was the real reason. He had never really given thought to what their friendship would mean as they grew older and started settling down into their permanent lives, but was it possible she felt trapped? That his friendship was somehow stifling her or keeping her from growing into the person she wanted to be?
    He was a Deschanel; a member of one of the largest, wealthiest, and most powerful families of New Orleans. It was a family of telepaths, telekinetics, healers, and seers. But Nicolas’s power started and ended with his occupation of the family seat, Ophélie; he would never see the future, or read someone’s mind. He was benign, and that never bothered him until now, when he wanted nothing more than to see into Ana’s thoughts.
    Nicolas shrugged off the worries, as he often did whenever something unpleasant dared to cross his mind, but they would come back to him from time to time.  To make matters worse, Oz was acting strange–strange for Oz, anyway–and had blown off every invite Nicolas had extended. He said he had ‘family stuff’ going on, but Nicolas was starting to wonder if he hadn’t done something to piss him off. It wouldn’t be the first time. But Nicolas could not recall a single obnoxious thing he had done to Oz in quite some time. He hadn’t even blessed him with one of his famous practical jokes, or poked fun at what Nicolas called his “unfailing hero complex.” He thought about just asking him what was wrong, but in Nicolas Deschanel’s experience, what’s wrong? never led to anything good.
    Although he would never admit it, with the only two people he had ever related with acting distant and strange, Nicolas felt lonely for the first time.

Chapter Three: Ana

    Ana had many talents, but cooking was not one of them. This fact had nothing to do with her privileged upbringing. When it came to most things, she was surprisingly self-sufficient and she enjoyed figuring challenges out on her own. But a relationship with the kitchen was not meant to be for Ana; she had no culinary vision, and any attempts to make anything interesting typically resulted in a call to the fire department. Most of the items in her pantry involved complex instructions such as “just add water,” or “microwave for ninety-seconds.”
    Ana realized it was better to admit defeat than starve, so she decided to brave the lack of hospitality from the locals and try takeout.  Alex recommended Jack’s, which he said was the best burger joint in the state of Maine. And better custard than anything on the mainland, either . He said that about most things on Summer Island, that it was the best in the state. But she knew it had to be an improvement from what she was eating at home, so she decided to try it.
    Androscoggin Avenue, the island’s main street, started at the North end of the island and broke off into two roads about a half-mile from the South shore: Chickadee Lane to the West, and Heron Hollow Road–where Ana lived–to the East. If the weather were warmer and the skies not so dark, Ana would have enjoyed the walk into town, but instead she fired up her father’s old car.
    The old ’76 station was the first indication that she had left the residential area and entered town. Just past that was Flanders Grocery, and then further down on the right side were all the official buildings: Post Office, Library, Police, and City Hall. The rest of the “town” consisted of two unnecessary stoplights and a series of bars, shops, and empty buildings along the mile-long Androscoggin Avenue. In the center of a roundabout was a large Civil War-era fort. No one could say what the name of the fort had been or what glories it had seen, but the wood was rotting and putting it on such crude display only called attention to the strange marriage of the town’s