chapter 6
Dearly Departed
Laken
The dove grey afternoon drones on. Coop calls me to meet him at the clearing just shy of Diamond Peak, and I don’t hesitate making my way over.
An autumn rainbow of yellow and crimson blesses the maples as they yield their leaves to Mother Earth. It breaks up the steel grey skies that stretch out overhead like a yawn. It’s majestic out here with the dew of fall settling over the landscape. I’ve never seen hillsides so rich with color, so seemingly alive while experiencing their death.
A pair of arms circle my waist. “Sorry, I’m late.” Coop sears the words into my ear like a hot summer night and my skin catches fire. “Ezrina’s ready to share the results.”
“Are you kidding?” My heart stops at what this might mean. I hope to God that poor girl lived, that’s she’s perfectly resurrected and not in some far more unfortunate state. “I hope it’s good news,” I heave the words out in a sudden panic. “If it’s not, I’ll feel horrible, Coop. Not to mention we’ll be screwed.” A resurrection for Pearl could save the entire Spectator race, namely the Tobias family.
“We’re never screwed. I promise we’ll come out on top.” He twirls me into him, and his eyes offer a gentle smile all their own. “I promise, Laken, I will always keep you safe.”
“I know you will.” It comes out weak, but everything in me believes his words are truer than my next breath.
“Real quick before we go”—Coop nods back toward campus—“Flynn called, said Hattie helped him scope out another group of willing Spectators.”
“Hattie?” I’m almost amused. “What do you think’s up with that? Clearly a Fem would have no interest in helping us.”
“I have no idea.” He shakes his head. “But if I get my way, we’ll find out sooner than later.” He glances over at the stone. “You ready to do this?”
“With you?” I’d run through a landmine with him if he wanted me to. “Always.”
Cooper takes up my hand. We take a step back before rushing the wall of granite at a hundred miles an hour.
My bones oscillate, my body quivers without ceasing long after we’re spit out onto the slick floors of the Transfer. The pale hall extends for what seems like an eternity as Coop leads us down corridor after corridor with such accuracy you’d think he engineered the building himself.
“She said to meet her here.” Coop squeezes my hand as we enter a carpeted area. A blue glow emanates to our right, and Coop doesn’t hesitate leading us inside.
“I recognize this place,” I whisper. “It’s the room with the floating coffins.”
Everything in me seizes as I take in the long glass tubes that extend from floor to ceiling. Corpses float inside, submerged in blue fluid. Each of them holds a blank open gaze with their bodies sealed in wetsuits, giving them the appeal of an army of petrified soldiers. This was truly a killing field, a mass watery grave that begs for intervention.
“I bet you half of these are stolen lives,” I say. “I wouldn’t put it past the Counts to arrange for death just so they could proliferate their numbers.”
“Worst recycling program ever.” He tightens his grip around my waist.
Ezrina scuttles into the room with her dark cloak, emphasizing the hump over her back, her wild hair wafts in the breeze like a slow building fire.
“What happened?” Coop swallows hard as if bracing for the worst.
“She lives.” Her haggard frame straightens ever so slightly. “Pearl.” It whispers from her like a demonic incantation.
A girl about our age walks into the room with long, glossy hair—black as soot—full ruby lips, rosy glowing skin—everything about her is the perfect picture of health.
“Pearl?” I step forward and inspect her. She has on a short black dress, her long legs touching down, lean and strong, with her feet pressed into a pair of heels.
“Do you like it?” She gives a little twirl. “Ezrina said all the girls dressed like prostitutes now, and I really want to fit in.”
“You look terrific.” Not to mention alive and unstoppably healthy.
Cooper gives a dry laugh. “You made it, Pearl. Congratulations.”
She made it. My heart tries to pump out of my chest—so wildly amazed and horrified all at the same time.
Now what?
Coop and I stow Pearl away in my bedroom and just stare at her as she rambles on in an animated state that neither of us had ever witnessed.
“Do I have to go to school? I absolutely hate school. Is there any way I could just stay home? I miss TV. Do you have TV? I love TV dinners. Can you help me get some of those?”
“Pearl.” I hold my hands out in an effort to slow her down. “Relax, would you? You’re starting to give me an ulcer.” My head throbs in rhythm to her elation. “On second thought, if anyone has a right to vomit everything out at once, it’s you. Please, take a seat.” I coax as Coop and I land on Hattie’s haunted mattress. “Now, tell us about yourself. Do you remember anything that happened?”
“Let’s see.” Her pale eyes sweep the ceiling. “I was born fourth in line, two of my brothers died early in a horrible train accident. My sister and I attended Ephemeral—residing at Alcott Hall.” She makes a face. “I know Austen is the rival suite, but I really want to stay. I never liked having an east-facing dormitory. I’m not big into rivalries anyway.”
Coop winces as he inspects our newfound friend but doesn’t say a word.
“I think it’s great you’re not big on rivalries,” I say stupidly. I kindly omit the part about me not being so big on Ephemeral in general.
A gentle knock erupts at the door, and Jen breezes in. “Cooper?” Her face contorts as if she found us buck naked, twisted together like a pretzel. “Do you mind?” She points out the door, not bothering to hide the fact she’s a little more than pissed. “Laken has a boyfriend, thank you very much,” she says, hoisting him into the hall rather unceremoniously.
“Excuse me,” I say, plucking her hand off his jacket. I step out with him and shut the door behind us. “So what do you think? It looks like Ezrina perfected the resurrection recipe, and now you won’t have to exterminate the Spectators.”
He pulls his lips to the side. “I wouldn’t go running to the Counts with the good news just yet.” He glances over my shoulder before stepping in close. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Pearl was a student at Ephemeral?”
“Why would I think it’s odd? Should I be surprised?” Crap. I don’t know what to think anymore.
“It’s strange, that’s for sure.” Coop latches onto me with those pencil grey eyes. “I’d better go before Jen has a coronary.” His cheek pinches to the side. “I’ve got some shopping to do for homecoming anyway. Apparently all hell will break loose if I don’t accessorize correctly.”
“Homecoming,” I whisper, despondent at the thought of Coop escorting Grayson anywhere.
He glances at the door. “Be careful,” he whispers. Coop reaches up and caresses my cheek, making the rest of my body jealous for his touch.
“Say cheese!” Grayson steps in close and displays a picture of us on her phone with Coop brushing over me with his hand. “Now to hit send.” She clicks away, and already I know where it went.
Shit.
“Pity.” She gives a mock frown. “Wes has been asking for you all afternoon.”
Coop lets out a sigh of frustration. “I really don’t appreciate this.” He shoots Grayson a look of discontent. “I was just helping out a friend. It really pisses me off that you’re so quick to cause trouble.”
Grayson’s bright pink lips quiver into a perfect O. Her shoulders sag. Her eyes cut to dangerous slits as she glares into him.
“Well, Cooper”—she takes in a controlled breath—“I was just helping out a friend, myself. You see, it turns out some guys from Rycroft jumped Wes this morning. They had to take him to the infirmary. He’s got a concussion, and they nearly yanked his balls out of his nose.”
The floor shifts beneath me—the oxygen vacuums out of the room.
“I need to get to Wes.” I take the stairs two by two and tumble down the last few.
“Laken.” Coop helps me up. “I’ll drive.”
“I’m coming with you.” Grayson follows us into the cool evening air.
Who were these idiots from Rycroft? Obviously, that psycho I supposedly dated, Miles Richards, was involved. Suddenly, I’m feeling the need to invoke an ass kicking myself.
We hop into Cooper’s truck. Grayson pushes herself in so close to him, it makes me wonder if she’s driving.
I stare out the window at the silver-colored world as it stretches out like taffy.
Wes is hurt. He was asking for me. I used to worship at his feet, and now I’ve reduced him as low as the enemy, but he’s not—nor will he ever be. I need to reprioritize and get him back in his right mind. We were each other’s everything, and we can’t lose sight of that now.
“You okay?” Coop dips past Grayson’s breast extensions as he looks me over.
I give a brief nod.
Coop. He’s filled in Wesley’s void so proficiently, dare I say better. I think out of all the things this new world of Ephemeral and the Counts have given me to fear—the thing I fear most is Cooper Flanders himself.
He’s changed everything.
Nothing will ever be the same.
The infirmary is a boxy building, across from the north campus, that I didn’t know existed until this unfortunate hour. It took more than ten minutes to get to by car, so I’m glad I accepted the ride.
“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t go in,” I say to Coop before we enter the tiny building.
“I want to.” He glances past me at Grayson who’s already at the information desk.
Inside, the scent of ammonia scours my senses, makes my eyes water from the invisible fumes employed to battle bacteria.
“Wesley Parker,” I pant into the girl seated at the front desk. “I mean, Paxton.”
“Mr. Paxton is in the third room to the left.” Her forehead creases as she takes the three of us in. “Keep it down. He’s trying to get some rest.”
I don’t listen to the rest of her spiel. I simply count out the doorways and barrel into the one where I find Kresley, seated at the edge of a tiny blue sofa.
“Look who decided to show?” She rises, mostly to get out of my way as I head to the other side of the curtain.
“Shit!” It expels from me in a breathless whisper.
“Dude.” Coop makes his way over to Wes, shocked at the bloated rendition of my beautiful boyfriend.
Wesley’s left eye is swollen shut. His lip is torn in an upright angle with stitches forming a jagged row of X’s, giving him that scary Halloween effect.
“Heard you broke your rib.” It comes from me weak, broken as Wesley himself.
“I’m okay.” He sits up and winces in the process.
“You’re not okay,” I whisper, taking up his hand.
“Did you see the guys who did it?” Coop looks genuinely pissed which shouldn’t surprise me since Coop is an all around nice guy.
I rub my thumb over Wesley’s palm as if nudging him along.
He shakes my hand loose and gives a dry laugh.
Crap. I’m such an ass for drooling over Coop’s “all around nice guy” status while Wes lies on his deathbed.
I take up his fingers again and pretend not to notice the overt eviction he just gave me.
I love Wes so much. It kills me to see him like this. I over annunciate the thought as I give his hand a gentle squeeze.
Wes looks up and smiles before redirecting his gaze toward Cooper.
Damn, Coop. He glares at him a moment. “I did see the guys who did it.”
Kresley steps in, wide-eyed with anticipation. “It was that f*ck-up she was seeing at Rycroft, wasn’t it?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. The anemic smile on his face expands ever so slightly.
“Who was it?” Coop is insistent on joining in on the battle. “Someone from Ephemeral?”
“No.” Wes looks down, defeated. “It was nothing. I probably had it coming.” He digs his palm into his eye, looking far more tired than injured. “Look, it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Kresley gags on her words. “What if they come back? That’s it—I’m calling the cops.” She whips out her phone and starts in on a dialing spree.
“I said, no.” Wes roars, inspiring her to drop the phone into her purse.
“Knew it,” she seethes. “You’re protecting this little slut, and now she’s almost got you killed. One day you’re going to wake up and realize you let the best thing that ever happened to you walk out that door. And you know what?” Her chest expands like a wall. Her clear green eyes are dull as sea glass. “I’ll still be there for you, Wesley. Laken is nothing but a blister on our relationship.” She storms out of the room, creating a whirlwind with her exit.
A blister? That’s what she’s relegated me to?
I can’t stand Kresley and her drama-mama ways. I don’t think I’ve hated a single soul in my life, but I have a serious disdain for Kresley Fisher.
I slip my fingers away from Wes a moment.
If anyone is a blister, it’s the Counts.
Wes gropes for my hand again, so I give it.
“Who was it, man?” Coop tries coaxing the answer out of him. “I’ll help you pay them a visit.”
I wonder how much of this is real and how much of this is strategy.
That’s what I’m wondering, Wes says to himself as he takes in Coop.
I swallow hard, looking down at our conjoined fingers.
“It’s no one you know.” Wes relaxes his head over his pillow and sinks into the downed cushion. It’s not like I’m going to tell them I’ve just had my ass kicked by two pussies from the future.
Why in God’s name would anyone want to do this to Wes? I squeeze his hand as if demanding an answer.
Shit. It’s killing Laken. He glances up at Cooper. It’s easy for someone like Coop. I bet he makes her feel all safe and cozy, no f*cked up secrets, not one kernel of dishonesty floating around between them. He closes his eyes briefly. I can’t do this anymore. It’s either tell her everything or cut her loose. Maybe I do belong with Kres. Maybe Laken would be better off with someone like Coop.
My insides line with lead. I could feel the weight of all of Ephemeral crushing over my chest as tears flood my vision.
I lie down gently next to Wes and let loose the wild torrent that’s been waiting to unleash since the day I first arrived on campus.
“I’ll wait outside.” Coop leaves the room, and I can feel the void in his wake.
Wes runs his fingers through the back of my hair in smooth, slow circles. It’s as if the room, the school—the state dissolves to nothing, and we’re right back in Kansas.
Right back in Kansas, Wes muses. God I wish it were all true—the two of us having simpler lives to escape to. I’d give anything for it to not be so damn complicated.
Homecoming.
Friday afternoon, the sky unleashes an outburst of aggression, driving down its fury in vats right over Ephemeral’s football field. We’re playing our crosstown rivals, Rycroft. In a way, I’m glad it wasn’t anyone from Rycroft who beat Wesley to a pulp. I’d hate to be responsible for anyone hurting him—nearly killing him. Although, I’m not entirely sure I’m absolved of causing the disaster either. I have no idea what he meant by people from the future. It all sounded a little too sci-fi to me. Coop seems to think it has to do with his blood sucking side-hobby. And, injuries be damned, Wes swore he’d still be my date for homecoming. Although, wisely he decided to ditch the action on the grid—rain started during halftime and never let up.
The game goes on through the downpour. The field turns into soupy terrain while the rest of the cheerleaders and I hop around with clear plastic ponchos. It’s the last few moments of the final quarter. Jen says they would have canceled if the game started out this way, but there’s no point in turning back now.
“Miles is looking at you.” Carter hooks her elbow into mine and spins me in a circle. She jumps in a huge puddle, sending a wall of water up my skirt, and my numb legs flinch at the glacial surprise.
“Who cares. I bet he looks at all the girls. He’s a biological malfunction with a permanent hard-on in his jeans.” I say, scouring the crowd for Pearl. I told her she could watch the game, but she needed to stay put. Jen was less than impressed that “a defector from Alcott” was seeking shelter in my room. I think she’d be even less impressed if she knew how long ago she defected, or more to the point, was plucked off campus by the body snatchers. But I don’t see any sign of Pearl. It’s nothing but a sea of black umbrellas.
The rain lets up just enough as the final whistle sounds. Fourteen to eight, Ephemeral takes the victory.
The football team streamlines in our direction. It’s wall-to-wall shoulder pads as people make their way to the gym.
Warm fingers touch down over mine, low by my thigh, and I clasp around them.
Good game. Looks like you’re the hero tonight. I give an impish grin as I look away.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the game. Cooper cinches our fingers. They should outlaw your moves, Laken. I nearly got taken out twice because of those hips. He gives a firm squeeze as the crowd starts to dwindle. I talked to my dad about some of these bizarre coincidences. He seems to think we should look closer at Hattie. Can you get some hair and tissue samples? He’ll run a panel, and hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of what she’s made of.
I’ll do my best. I start to walk away. I’ll see you tonight.
Hey, Laken? I just want you to know that if I could have asked you to the dance, I would’ve.
I look over at him, and our eyes lock. A sea of people pass between us as my fingers return to my side.
I mouth a simple thank you before heading to the gym.
It’s time to get ready for homecoming—for Wes.
“Laken.” My name echoes from the field. I glance through the hazy drizzle, but nothing catches my eye.
“Laken.” A sharp voice hisses from behind, and I pivot on my heels.
The crowd moves every which way like an army of disorganized ants.
Strange. I don’t see anybody.
I glance back toward the field, and a scream gets bottled in my throat.
The Tobias sisters flash like holograms before me, their sickly thin frames, their severely balding scalps scratch against the dismal backdrop, vying for my attention. The one on the right grasps onto her sister’s hair, engaging in violent tugs, twisting and jerking. She labors until her sister’s head spins unnaturally before popping right off as if she extracted a plant from the ground, nothing but bloody roots dangling below.
I clap my hand over my chest and take a step back.
“Shit.”
“Laken!” Hattie blinks forward until she’s in front of me with her emaciated features, her stained teeth. “Pearl Montagne lives.” She hisses it in my face as if it were the vilest truth. “Find my family. You have seven days”—she shoves the decapitated cranium in my direction—“or you’re next.”
Amelia blinks up at me with a thin smile on her lips, blood oozing from her nose. I knock the ball of teeth and hair out of my way like I were serving a volleyball.
“You bitch!” She says it soft yet shocked as hell that I had the nerve to chuck her sister’s head into the crowd.
I snatch her by the muslin sheath she’s wrapped in and lift her into the air. Hattie is solid as if she were real, not some figment of my psychotic imagination.
“Don’t you threaten me,” I seethe. “I have enough bullshit to deal with right now. I’ll find your damn family and send them to the reanimation station in time for the f*cking holidays. Why don’t you make this worth my effort and lead me to the tunnels, so I can at least see mine.”
“When my family heals.” Her frame dissolves beneath my fingers and soon I’m grasping nothing but air.
“Laken!” I spin around fully expecting to find the twisted Tobias sisters disemboweling one another for sport, but it’s Pearl with a vaguely familiar boy in tow. “Miles, just asked me to the dance!” Pearl hops up and down as the rain starts in on something a little more severe than a drizzle.
I glance at the tall boy with broad shoulders and a self-serving grin. That’s right. I remember now. He’s my supposed ex-boyfriend.
“Pearl”—I shake my head—“I don’t think you should be dating people you hardly know.”
“My mother would say the exact same thing.” Her blue eyes beam like lanterns—the devious undertones, rife with sexual implications.
Why in the hell does everything make her so damn happy? What was in that resurrection formula anyway? Opium?
She belts out a laugh right in my face. “You’re not my mother are you?” She hops over to Miles and slings her arms over his neck. His dark brows rise in my direction as if this whole stunt were meant to drive me insane. “Looks like I’ve got a date for homecoming.” She brushes her lips over his neck and sinks her hand up his soaking wet shirt.
“Don’t worry, Laken,” he says. “You know I’ll always save a dance for you.”
Pearl dips her knees in amazement. “He’s going to dance with both of us!”
That’s not all he’d like to do with the both of us.
Clearly Pearl is a danger to herself and others. There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight at that dance.
But first, I need to pay a visit to my least favorite faux Tobias sister.
It’s time to play the DNA game.
Coop
Hours after the game, the skies have miraculously cleared, giving me a window of opportunity to park before heading into the Trinity Country Club.
Grayson leans in toward me, her boobs ready and willing to bounce out of her low cut dress—hell, it’s high cut too if you count the way its hugging her bottom. Doesn’t leave much to the imagination not that I haven’t seen her naked. One more hairpin-turn and she would have spilled all over the dash like a pair of flesh-covered beach balls.
“I’m not that mad at you anymore for not renting a limo.” She crosses her arms and pouts as if she is still very much pissed over the non-luxury transport. Grayson filled me in on the fact she sunk two wine coolers earlier, and judging by the blowback, every time she opens her mouth, I’d say she gave a conservative number.
“I’m really sorry about that.” For the f*cking thousandth time. “I just couldn’t swing it this time.” Which is true but even if I could, who the hell wants to give up five hundred dollars for the night when I’ve got a perfectly good truck that’s paid for? Grayson, that’s who.
“This time?” She catches her breath while sweeping me with a wide-eyed look of wrongful anticipation. “Cooper Flanders, did you just ask me to prom?”
Shit.
I give a weak smile as I bypass the valet parking and find a spot deep in the lot.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and dives over me in one svelte move. Her hands glide around my shirt with the ease of a greased snake. Her head dives down toward my crotch like she’s about to bob for apples.
“Whoa.” I slip out the door and go around to get her. Something tells me it’s going to be a long, long night.
We start making our way down the lot, and an eerie feeling like I’m being watched encompasses me. I glance back. A reflection on the rear window of the truck catches my attention.
Grayson blabbers on about color coordination and prom, but I pause for a minute and narrow my gaze on the ever-increasing image appearing over the blackened glass. It’s moving. A sea of football players emerge before it zeros in on Laken and me. That’s today at the game. It zooms in again and focuses on our fingers touching.
“Come on, Coop!” Grayson’s ankle buckles as she struggles to reach me. “Shit,” she hisses, righting herself.
“You okay?” I go over and thread my arm in hers.
“I’m always okay with you around. Now, let’s show off some moves.” She lets out a few raucous woops and drags me along.
I glance back at the truck, and the glass is restored, black as midnight. Looks like someone else is showing off a few moves tonight as well. Whoever took those strange pictures of Laken and I a few weeks back is up to their photographic pranks again. Only, I don’t think it’s a who, I very much believe it’s a what, and I for damn sure know when. That image was only a few hours stale.
Now if only I could figure out why.
The country club sparkles with thousands of twinkle lights that make the cavernous room look like the stars lost their way and ended up inside. Frosted birch trees adorn the periphery as well as one big fat mother of a tree, planted smack dab in the middle of the dance floor with fake snow piled around it.
The room buzzes with soft music and the sound of hundreds of students talking at once. Every now and again a burst of laughter pierces the air.
“God!” Grayson jumps, and her boobs bounce so severely I’m afraid the girls are about to make their debut for the evening. Her left nipple shows a brown sunrise, and I’m quick to look away. “It’s so freaking beautiful!” She gawks at the icy inspired surroundings.
Then I see her. Laken. Her hair frames her face in loose waves, setting off her beauty like flowers in springtime. She’s wearing a short red dress, leaving just enough cleavage peering through to send my dick perking to attention. She strides this way with those long pale stems, her feet strapped in crimson heels that give the illusion she’s walking on flames.
My heart starts in on a death rattle. My palms liquefy. My stomach tightens like a rock as she comes in close. Her face is far more defined tonight, more makeup, but in a good way. Laken is a natural beauty, but tonight she looks like a goddess—the princess who stole my heart—the girl I could never truly have. Could I? The possibility seems too good to be true. Girls like Laken didn’t happen for me, they happened for morons like Wes who could never figure out how to appreciate them—how to believe them when they needed it most.
“My date is in the bathroom.” She nods into Grayson in lieu of hello. Her attention shifts to me. “You look great.” Laken licks her lips like a reflex and pants as she pushes in close. “I got that info on Animal Farm you were looking for. You know, how to tell if the pigs were really people?” Her eyes slit to Grayson when she says, “pigs.”
“You’re a pig trying to pass for people.” Grayson doesn’t bother hiding her disdain for Laken, but I’m too enamored with her beauty to pay Grayson any attention.
Laken scoffs, turning her pale shoulder in seductively. The light dances off her hair, her bare arms, and I want to pull her in and kiss her—leave her to come up with an entire slew of excuses in the event Wesley catches us again.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I really want to be sure I know what I’m talking about in ‘that paper.’ It’d be great if there were DNA evidence—you know, to see if they were ‘pigs or people.’”
“Oh”—Laken leans in—“one more thing. That family of wanderers?” She pauses, glancing at Grayson. “We only have seven days to identify them. Hattie Tobias told me so herself.”
Grayson scoffs. “That girl is a head case.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Laken crimps her lips. “I guess I’ll see you around.” She pulls her sad eyes off me, slow as January.
“Laken?” I call after her before she gets too far. She turns and digs a tiny smile in her cheek just for me. “You look beautiful.”
Her shoulders relax, her face smooths out as if she had waited to hear those exact words.
After two weeks of sleeping on the floor, maybe its time to reconsider the mattress.
Hours bleed by as I watch Laken with her arms wrapped around Wesley in a way that can only be defined as genuine affection.
Crap.
I crumple the napkin I’ve been choking the junk out of for the better half of the night and toss it onto the table.
“Whatcha doing?” Flynn lands next to me, lying over two chairs as he fans himself with a place card. His face is beet red with sweat trickling down the sides. He’s been in charge of what looks like a flash mob the last few hours, with at least a dozen different girls feeling him up at once.
“Hiding out?” I ask.
“You or me?”
“Both.”
“Pearl seems to be having a good time.” He sits up, and we watch amused as she ropes Miles in on another hopping session.
“Yup. She’s been dry humping the bastard all night.” Swear to God if I see him molest Laken with his eyes, one more time, I might accidentally knock his ass all the way back to Rycroft.
“I’ve got a crowd of Spectators for you, dude.” Flynn shakes his head, and beads of sweat drip onto his dress shirt. “They’re ready and willing, man.” He socks me in the arm. “Let’s get this thing done, bro. I need to see Casper’s ugly mug before Christmas. My mom’s losing it.”
“I hear you.” I nod. I’m losing it. Laken is losing it—not to mention other things she’s thinking about giving away to Wes, like herself.
A violent hum surges from the dance floor. Both Flynn and I bolt over to see what’s holding everyone’s attention captive.
Pearl.
She’s strutting her stuff in a manic display so animated it looks damn straight demonic.
“Shit,” I whisper as I take in the strange sight. The crowd keeps a safe distance, creating a clearing for her hyperactive antics. Her limbs gyrate. Her back bends unnaturally. Her head rotates so fast you can hear the bones snap in her neck like the cracking of a tree branch.
“Holy shit.” Flynn slaps me in the stomach never taking his eyes off the display.
Her dress shimmies up past her hips, inspiring Ms. Paxton to blow her whistle like she’s trying to break up a fight.
Pearl pumps her fist in the air while her body twitches to the music in an unnatural show of flexion. She falls to the floor and spazzes out over the hardwood like she’s bouncing on a trampoline. Her body bucks and kicks until it becomes apparent she’s unable to control herself.
I rush over to Laken and ignore the fact Wes is securely holding her at the waist.
“She’s seizing,” I shout over the music.
Newfound screams of horror emit as the crowd comes to the same conclusion. I glance back down, and her face is sprayed with blood, her tongue hangs out like a strip of raw steak.
Laken latches onto my shirt and shakes me. “Do something!”
Pearl vomits a vat of blue liquid in a three-foot circumference, and the crowd groans and shrieks in disgust. Her body slows to a crawl, her limbs jerk in sharp, staccato increments.
“Pearl!” Laken tries to run over, but I catch her and hold her a moment before releasing her back to Wes.
Pearl ceases all movement.
The music stops.
The houselights spray over the vicinity with their harsh, intrusive glow.
It looks like the resurrection turned to shit pretty quickly.
Back to square one.
An electrical snap emits from Pearl. Her body hisses and smokes as her skin, her hair, her flesh offers the students of Ephemeral a lesson in biodegrading they will never forget.
Pearl is a Spectator once again.
Albeit a dead one.
Wesley
After the untimely death of a virtual stranger, who Laken personally invited to the dance, a few of the dorms offer to host the remainder of homecoming.
Jen was generous enough to open the doors to Austen House, so, of course, we head there. On the entire way over, I grill the holy shit out of Laken who insists she thought Pearl was a bona fide student at Ephemeral, but something about the answers she gives don’t add up. Besides, Laken is the last person to spontaneously trust someone.
I shake my head as we step into Austen.
“Hey”—I pull her in and brush my lips over hers—“you know I love you, right?” She’s so achingly beautiful tonight I can’t help but shake when I look at her.
“Then please stop making me feel bad for inviting Pearl to homecoming. I feel horrible about what happened.” She lowers her lashes a moment. “And if I knew she was going to bring Miles, I would never have encouraged her. Did you see him ogling me? I swear I felt defiled just being in his presence.” She shudders.
“I did. And, trust me, if things didn’t turn to crap, I would have kicked some Rycroft ass.” I bounce my lips off her forehead. The truth is I’m still sore as shit from the beating I received myself from Skyla’s idiot friends. “I swear to you, I don’t blame you for what happened tonight. You did nothing wrong. I apologize for even making you think you did.” I wrap my arms around her tight like a vice. What the hell was this mystery girl doing in Laken’s room anyway? Something about it feels too damn strange. But I’ll continue with the inquisition some other time.
Mom and Edinger spring through the entry and speed on over.
“Wesley, Laken.” Mom says Laken’s name in a curt manner, never a good sign. “The police have filed a report. We’ll know more after the autopsy regarding whether or not criminal activity played a role in the poor girl’s death. Are you sure you don’t know her last name?”
Laken shrinks a little and doesn’t say a word.
“I don’t. She just said her name was, Pearl.”
Edinger expels a hearty sigh. His cologne penetrates the air, thick and strangulating—far too sweet for my taste. The strong scent of cloves makes him smell more like a ham at Easter than the sophisticated douche he thinks he is.
Laken lets out a little laugh.
“What so funny?” Edinger’s eyes squint with a laughter all their own. He’s the only sub-human on the planet that smiles so damn much.
“Oh”—Laken squeezes my hand for help—“I heard Jen in the background say she just put in a batch of cookies, and I thought that’s just like my sister, always trying to make people feel better.” Thank God for Jen and her impractical culinary skills.
I bring her hand to my lips. I’m pretty sure Laken does a better job of making people feel better any day of the week. In fact I’m looking forward to her making me feel really good in the very near future.
“Young love.” Edinger spouts off for no reason. “It’s so beautiful to witness.” He cuts a hard look to Laken. “Be careful with your hearts. At this tender age they’re susceptible to a lifetime of damage. If you tell someone they’re your everything, you should most certainly mean it.”
Laken twists her lips. Good thing Wesley is my everything. She cuts me a little smile.
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Mom shoots him a look that could freeze middle earth.
“I smell cookies,” I say to Laken. “We’ll catch you two later.” I maneuver Laken and myself across the room, burying ourselves in the crowd to shield us from any more of Edinger’s bizarre and uncalled for relationship advice.
“Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise.” Laken glances back over at them.
“There is. She wants a ring and he wants a fling.”
“Sounds like a typical male, female relationship.”
It won’t be for us.
I pull her in as the music slows to a crawl and press my hips over hers. We move to the rhythm, and I moan into her ear. Laken has the ability to drive me wild from across the room let alone touching me in such an intimate way.
“Check that out,” she whispers, pointing to Jen and Jackson locked at the lips. “She’s gorging on his tongue as if it were a meal.”
Shit. I pan the room for my brother and spot him frozen in Jax Easton’s arms. He said the only reason he agreed to take her to homecoming was so he could keep an eye on Jen. Blaine plucks Jax off in haste as he migrates across the room at a quickened pace.
“Here we go,” I say under my breath.
Blaine wastes no time in dethroning Jackson as the victor of Jen’s lingual fluids and knocks him hard against the mantle just shy of setting the poor bastard’s ass on fire.
“Do something!” Laken jumps in a panic as Jen belts out a choir of hysterics.
Blaine pulls Jen in and thrusts his lips over hers. Their bodies remain perfectly still as they devour one another for the entire room to see.
“Oh Crap.” Laken spits it out disappointed. “I can’t stand to watch. I think I smell something burning. I’ll be right back.”
She takes off in her barely-there dress. Laken looks good in any color, but, hot damn, she’s setting sparks off with that red dress.
Jen disbands from the kiss as Jackson and Blaine start in on a shoving match. I’d step in, but Mom has her whistle at the ready, and Edinger has stuck his beak in the ring. I hope he gets clocked.
Flanders and Grayson catch my attention. I have to admit I’m damn near impressed he hasn’t made a single move on Laken tonight. She’s hotter than hell, and I couldn’t blame him if he tried. It makes me wonder if he was ever interested in her in the first place. Maybe I had it wrong. I mean, he was with Grayson last summer. God knows Grayson Evans has made it clear that she’s ready and willing to commit to a lifetime of sexual servitude with Flanders if he’ll allow her the honor. Although, half the guys at Ephemeral have tapped that well, and I don’t think Flanders is the kind of guy who wants a piece of leftover pie.
He nods in my direction as Grayson disappears for a moment and heads over.
“So who did this to you, man?” Coop slaps me gently on the back as he examines the stitches running up the side of my face.
“Logan and Gage Oliver.” Their names roll off my tongue, rough and hostile, like drilling a jackhammer.
“You sure they’re not from Rycroft?” Coop ticks his head back. His jaw redefines itself as if he’s good and pissed on my behalf.
I know Coop well enough to realize what he’s up to. He’s memorizing their names, running it through the super computer that functions as his memory bank to see if he recognizes them. We used to be friends Coop and me. Good ones.
I shake my head at the thought of losing what we had over my incessant jealousy. Coop would do anything to help me out, anyone out, for that matter—he’s just that nice.
“Coop”—I step in and take a breath—“you’re one of us. You’re like a brother. I don’t want there to be weirdness between us anymore. I miss tossing the ball on the field and hanging out after you ran a perfect game. I really appreciate your concern with my new face, but the guys who did this,” I pause and press out a dry smile, “they’re from a couple years in the future. It’s some bullshit I got mixed up in, and they’re just doing what they think is right. I’ll get ‘em back though.” I’ll be damned if I let those two ass-wipes get away with ever laying a hand on me.
“Get a hold of a supervising spirit, and lets get out there.” Coop crosses his arms like he’s ready and rearing to go.
“It’s not that easy. We need a willing Celestra.” I leave out the part about my supervising spirit being an ass who doesn’t believe in doing me any favors.
Coop doesn’t say anything.
Laken emerges from the kitchen with Carter in tow. They head straight over to Jen who is noticeably without either of her spit-swapping partners.
Cooper runs his eyes over Laken. He’s drinking her down, lusting after her without the ability to control it in my presence. He blinks away and swallows hard.
It’s becoming clear he’s less interested in Grayson than I thought.
“So I hear Laken knew that girl.” He nods. “Weird how that all went down.”
I stare at Coop a really long time. Maybe now is the time to call bullshit, but I decide against it.
“It’s sad. I hope they find her family soon.” I pan the room for Blaine. “So you and Grayson, huh?” I knock into his shoulder with mine, and it elicits a riot of pain in my abdomen.
“Can you blame me?” Coop swallows a laugh, and I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not.
“You know, we should hang out more,” I say, tossing the bone out there. “We should take the girls to dinner. Laken is still new. I know Kres has been giving her a hard time, so Grayson’s probably not too far behind. I’d like to see them get along.”
Coop loses his friendly demeanor, and for a moment I wonder if a second ass kicking is in the works for me. He manufactures a dry smile that lets me know he’s not enthused with the bonding session I just proposed.
“Yeah, let’s do that. I think it’ll be fun.” He continues to openly glare at me. “I’d better go find Grayson. I’d hate for someone else to try and step into my shoes. Someone might end up looking like you if they tried. Is that what you did, Wes?” He lets out a playful laugh. “You try to steal someone’s girl?”
Skyla comes to mind. She’s beautiful but doesn’t hold a candle to Laken. For a second I envision Laken tied up and stretched out while Gage has his way with her neck, and my blood begins to boil. I shake the thought loose.
“Maybe I did.” I give a quick wink as he takes off. I did something a whole hell of a lot worse than trying to steal someone’s girl—I hurt her.
Laken doesn’t hesitate to bring me upstairs once our lips begin to overheat. The party rages on, and I’ve kept an eye on Flanders all night. As far as I can tell, he seems genuinely into Grayson—the way he holds her hand, her waist like they were a couple.
I noticed Laken stealing a few glances in their direction herself. I’m sure it hurt her ego a little to see he wasn’t pining for her anymore. It’s got to feel good knowing two different guys want your affection, so maybe that’s all it was to her. I’d hate to think maybe she was really into him. Kres pines for me, and I’m not remotely “into” her anymore. After I turned her down cold the night she showed up in my bed, I knew Laken put an end to that relationship for good. An image of Kres burns through my mind, naked—complete with a shiny red bow.
Laken looks right at me, her mouth falls open with surprise.
“What?”
She makes a face. “We’d better find a way to lock the door.” She picks up her backpack and leans it over the crack.
“How about this?” I say, wedging her chair under the doorknob. “What was that look for?” I tease.
“I’m just”—she shakes her head—“I’m too far gone.” She covers my lips with hers.
“Just a second,” I say, walking her backward over to the bed. “Anything here that might clue us in on who the hell Pearl was?” Everything looks the same. Girls’ dorms are always pretty neat, so maybe the trash could afford a clue or two.
Laken pulls me closer as if she knew where I was going with this.
“Who cares? It’s so depressing I can’t even think straight.” Her eyes tear up. “I’m sure they’ll find something, or her Mom will call the authorities. Right?”
“Right.”
A bedroom blinks through her mind, and I wince trying to place it. It held an off campus appeal, but Laken doesn’t get out much.
Shit. Laken untucks my shirt and slips her iced fingers over my flesh.
I trace the outline of her lips with my tongue and pull back in time to see her blush. Laken puts to shame any of the iconic beauties ever immortalized through art in ages past or present.
“I’m dying to sketch you.” I press a kiss just under her ear, and she gives an involuntary moan. “Without your clothes. Would you let me do that?”
Her body goes rigid. An image of Kresley lying naked on my bed flashes through her mind, the red bow tied in a proud sash across her midsection just as I had seen it.
I pull back and examine her without allowing a single thought to sail through my brain.
“Sketching me in the nude? I don’t know about that.” Laken shivers as though the idea scares her.
I sit down and untie my shoes.
How in the hell did she peg Kresley so correctly right down to the f*cking bow? I glance up just as she straddles me from behind with a knee on either side of my waist. She dips a kiss down over my shoulder, and all thoughts of Kresley quickly dissipate. Maybe it was my thought. Maybe I was just replaying the scene from the other night.
Skin on skin, that’s the only way Celestra hear one another. Laken isn’t Celestra. There’s no way she heard me, or saw what I was thinking. It’s probably just a coincidence. I bet a big red bow is how all girls envision gifting themselves to their boyfriends. But Laken wasn’t thinking of herself—she mirrored my thoughts exactly.
I stiffen at the thought of Laken reading my mind. There’s got to be a way I can test her to be sure.
“So…” I lie over her and interlock our fingers, tight like the bear trap it is. “Other than the tragedy, how was your night?”
“Excellent because I was with you. How’s your lip? You look tragically hot by the way.” A sexy gurgle trickles from her throat.
“Why thank you.” I take her in, still stunned by the fact she bounced back an accurate image of Kres in her birthday suit. “I don’t want to be anywhere else except right here with you. You’re the most beautiful girl on the planet.” I land a kiss over her nose.
Sometimes I wish she would say I love you first. In a way, I think it would mean more. I appraise her for evidence of eavesdropping.
Laken, bites her lip and looks away for a moment.
Nothing. My chest swells with relief.
“Love you,” I say, giving a chaste kiss before examining her from this vantage point. “Halloween is coming up. I’ve got something special planned for the two of us.” I flood my mind with images of Laken and me engaging in some of the most explicit sex acts I can think of and gauge her reaction.
“Holy shit, Parker.” She rumbles with laughter. “You are such a dirty perv!”
My muscles tense up. My heart beats erratic.
“Why’s that, Anderson?” I don’t say a word about her mixing up my sir name again. I’m resigned to the fact she can’t keep it straight.
“Halloween. You know”—she moves her hips beneath mine—“that’s kind of strange, don’t you think? Not the most romantic night in the world.” She begins to nuzzle my neck, and I don’t object.
“What made you think I was talking about sex?” I growl out a laugh. “I think it’s you who needs to get her mind out of the gutter.”
“You’re a guy, Wes. It’s a known fact you’ll spend your entire adult life wading through ‘the gutter.’ I bet you envision naked girls wrapped in bows all day long. It’s practically a vocation you’re called into. Your testosterone status alone demands it.”
I roll off and lie next to her, my hands up by the headboard safe away from her prying mind.
She did it again.
What the f*ck just happened?
Long after midnight—instead of heading to Henderson—I take a lonely walk over to the library, passing Asterion in all his Minotaur glory as the fog shrouds him in mystery.
I don’t like the idea of Laken having secrets. I don’t have secrets. In fact, the surprise I have set for Halloween has to do with eliminating that very thing. It’s going to be Laken and me, bonding on an adventure she’ll never forget—the Tenebrous Woods. She’s a Temple Treasure, so Edinger can’t deny her. Not that I’d go crawling to him for permission. Besides, he made it emphatically clear he doesn’t want to speak with her under Count authority. He should have thought about that before lopping off his head last month and holding it out to her like a bowling ball. He’s such a stupid shit. He talked in circles about having fun with her. He said he knew about her injury and couldn’t resist. I didn’t appreciate the stunt, still don’t.
I pass Asterion nice and slow. His eyes glint a silent blood red, and I don’t remember him looking this evil in the light. There’s a fierceness about him. Asterion seems pissed to hell about everything. It unnerves me to walk past him as if he might animate and rip me to pieces for the heck of it.
The library is lit up in the distance with its cathedral windows, glowing as if the place were on fire. It’s an optical illusion created through the stained glass, and I can’t help but wonder if the artist had that in mind when he designed it—the fire, the burning tower. It makes Ephemeral look downright demonic.
Laken was thinking of a room tonight when we went upstairs. I’ve seen that room before—a guy’s room, but I can’t quite place it.
I take the steps up to the library two by two and use the master key to let myself in.
The reserve lighting is enough to guide me toward the back, and I enter the “by invitation only” room before locking myself inside.
Rows and rows of leather bound books on the history of the Countenance—heck all five angelic factions, line the shelves with their gleaming, gilded spines—books on the Countenance, Deorsum, Levatio, Noster, and of course Celestra. They shine in this low light like celestial bodies that belong in the sky.
Celestra, A Lineage. I pluck the book off the shelf and thumb through it, searching for names, dates, places that might offer a clue as to which Celestra might be aiding Laken—or if, in fact, she is one herself.
“Anderson,” I whisper, looking up her last name as if thumbing through a phonebook. I take a seat, settling in for the night.
“No such luck?” A disembodied voice grumbles from across the table.
“Shit!” I bounce back in my chair. “You’re going to kill me one day. You know that?” I scoot back in, pissed at the dark-haired demon slowly materializing before me.
Edinger sits with his signature haughty sneer, his deceptive smiling eyes.
“I would never kill you, Wesley. I’ll always be on your side, forever.”
Makes me wonder why.
“Okay then”—I slide the oversized coffee-table read in his direction—“tell me what you know. What Celestra helped Laken pry into my mind tonight. And if she is one herself, you’d damn well better fess up. I don’t like being left in the dark.”
If Laken has any Celestra in her, I wouldn’t need to venture into the wickedness that resides in the Tenebrous Woods. I could turn a blind eye like the rest of my kind and put my focus where it belongs—on Laken herself.
For a moment I imagine myself loving off her neck, how f*cking erotic it would be filling my mouth with that salty explosion.
“Turn down the volume on the erotizing would you?” He grumbles while expertly dotting his finger just under a name. “This one. Here’s the mother of your culprit.”
I spin the book my way and pull it in.
“Michaella Duff.” It sounds foreign on my tongue. I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard it before.
“Nee, Duff,” he growls. “Perhaps you’re more familiar with her married name?”
A cold chill rips through my body as Edinger takes me the long way around the proverbial block.
“What’s her married name?”
“Flanders.”