Blind Trust Read Online Free Page B

saw stuff.” I took my napkin and started folding it.
    Renee watched me and cocked her head. “You must have been
terrified.”
    “I was,” I said, continuing to fold. “So Nan used to get me making
these.” I tucked my finger in the fold to create an arch. “Eagles are a big
thing in my family and to be under the shelter of their wings,” I folded the
last piece over, “is to be protected by a great white light.”
    Renee’s eyes widened as I handed her the little napkin eagle.
    “Nan always said that and they remind me of her.” I shrugged as
Renee’s eyes misted. “So if you have one of her little creations, she’ll be
around to take care of you.”
    “Oh, Aeron,” Renee said, her voice raspy. “It’s beautiful.”
    “It’s a napkin,” I pointed out. “But even a napkin can have wings
in the right hands.”

 
    Chapter 4
     
    AS WE SCURRIED back to the car after the most delicious pecan pie
I ever tasted, I could feel an odd quiet in the air circling us in the swirling
snow. It was a weird sensation like dangling over the pit of a massive pool,
suspended in air, hanging, waiting until time caught up. 
    Everything was so slow, so detached from me as though I were a
spectator. I watched my own hands fasten the seat belt. My stomach tickled with
tight, nervous pulses. Renee turned the key. A car pulled past.
    “I think we should stay put,” I said.
    “What?” Renee laughed, not looking at me. “I know it was good
food, Aeron, but we have things to do.”
    Cold sweat trickled down my back. The windshield wipers thudded
back and forth. Renee careful, deliberate, focused as we drove down the street.
I couldn’t make out any actual buildings through the thick white, just our
headlamps. Nothing beyond. The shops were still there, the faint glow of lights
confirmed they were only a few feet away. Yet it felt lonely in the car, like
we were cut off from everything.
    “It’s not that,” I mumbled, my mouth like a creek bed in summer.
“I just . . .” I didn’t really know how to explain it.
    Renee leaned forward onto the wheel as she tried to see through
the snow. “I’ve driven in worse. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
    Was it? I’d liked the snow far better when I was in the
institution. Watching it from the comfort of a cell made it look a lot less
threatening. Still, the panic settled over me. My stomach gurgled away with
tension and the food.
    The lights from the café and town disappeared as we rounded the
bend. My stomach and resolve seemed to have stayed back there too. My shoulders
were so tense that they ached as I gripped my knees. Nothing but the headlamps,
nothing beyond the glow. Just us and silent, ominous white getting thicker and
thicker.  
    “Aeron. It’ll be okay.” Renee glanced at me.
    “Watch!”
    Something bolted out of the trees and right in front of us. Renee
swerved. Something crunched under the car. We slammed to a stop. I smacked my
knees on the dash. My belt yanking my shoulder.
    We sat wide-eyed, staring at the road. Both of us were puffing.
    “Flash?” Renee asked, her eyes tracking the wooded area in front
of us.
    “Yeah.”
    Renee turned to me, her eyes wide. “The town is just back there.
We can stay with the car or—”
    “Town.” My heart was thundering. That feeling, that odd, detached
feeling hung over me. The white swirled around us and felt . . . threatening .
. . that was the only way I could describe it. The only time I’d felt that
surreal stillness was before the twister back in Oppidum and my whole body was
wired.  
    “I just have to get our bags out of the trunk.” She leaned into
the back seat and grabbed our coats. “Come on.”
    That sense of stillness, of dangling, of waiting grew heavier as
we got out. Like the clickety-clackety wind up of a roller coaster as you
neared the top. Renee was preoccupied with getting our supplies from the trunk
as I looked around at the roadside. Icy cold. Pure drifting white.