She glances into the forest where she knows I was just looking and nods. Over her shoulder, she watches me as she makes her way toward the path. When I can no longer see her, I head toward Valery.
“Come out, Red,” I say. “I know you’re here.”
Valery steps out from behind a tree like a mass murderer and struts forward. Her face scrunches in disgust as her heels dig into soil and dried leaves.
“What are you doing out here?” she asks.
“Talking.”
“Liar.”
“You know what we’re doing out here; you’ve been hanging around like a stage-five clinger,” I say. “So what’s going on? What do you have to say?”
Valery smooths her hair back, then perches her claws on her hips. “I’ve come to warn you. We believe you’re being tracked by one of your own. And that he may try to harm you, or maybe even Charlie.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I lean against a tree and kick my foot up on the bark. “What else you got?”
“You know?”
“Of course I know.”
“Then you’re going to tell her.”
My eyes pull to the right. “I’m trying.”
Valery laughs. It’s quick and sharp and says this is anything but funny. “Well allow me to give you some motivation. You have until tomorrow to tell her who you really are, or I will.”
I push away from the tree and step toward her. “Thought you weren’t going to interfere?”
“Plans have changed,” Valery says, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Tell her. Soon. Let her choose for herself who she wants to side with.”
My mind races. I have to tell Charlie, and chances are that after I do, she’ll want to get as far away from me as possible. Maybe she’ll run right into Valery’s waiting arms. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Valery would try and protect her. But she couldn’t do what I would, wouldn’t go to the same extremes to keep her safe.
She doesn’t love her like I do.
But if Charlie won’t come near me after I tell her the truth, Valery may be my only option to ensure Charlie stays safe. Though in order for Valery to do that, I have to tell her everything.
“Charlie signed a soul contract,” I confess.
Valery’s cigarette drops to the ground. Her eyes dart around like a crazy person’s. “I knew it. I freaking knew it. It’s why she looks so different. Isn’t it?”
I nod.
She paces past me and back again, muttering to herself. When she walks by me for the third time, I grab her arm.
“Valery.” I can’t believe what I’m about to say, what I’m about to do. “Work with me. Together we can keep her safe.”
She rips her arm from my grasp. “Work with you?” she snarls. “You’re crazy. I mean, freaking loco.” She rolls a finger near her temple to mimic just how crazy I am. “We would never work with one of you. We have standards. Morals. Things you demons don’t give a second thought to. You think I buy that you care about her? That you wouldn’t say or do anything to ensure you get a promotion? You said it yourself, didn’t you?” Valery huffs. “I can protect Charlie, and I certainly don’t need your help to do it.”
I storm away from her, flipping her off over my shoulder.
“Dante,” she yells from behind me, “don’t you walk away from me.”
I spin around and walk backwards. “Forget I said anything. I won’t let anything happen to her. I’d die first. I’d die again.”
Valery’s face changes. It softens, like she sees something she missed before. “Tell her, or I will.”
It’s the last thing I hear her say before landing on the path and finding my way back to Charlie. I spot her waiting near the front door and quickly pull her into my arms.
Kissing the top of her head, I mumble, “Ready to go?”
Charlie glances around like she wants to tell Blue and Annabelle good night. When she doesn’t spot them, she looks back at me and gives a halfhearted nod.
I pull one arm around her and open the door. I’m about to step out onto the patio when I remember I’m barefoot. Stepping back inside, I flip through the pile of shoes, searching for my sneakers. I’ve spent all of ten seconds on the task when the realization hits me.
They’re gone.
I dash around the house, looking for anyone who may have them. No one does, and it doesn’t surprise me. Those puppies were autographed by Dwyane Wade. And now they’re gone. Stolen. Jacked. I want to scream and throw things and possibly find that mace Natalie was talking about and hose every third person I see. Instead, I walk back to Charlie and sling my arm over her shoulder.
As we walk toward Elizabeth Taylor, Charlie asks, “Where are your shoes?”
I bite the inside of my lip and take a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. Then I kiss the top of her head and open the car door.
It’s quiet in the car as I drive toward Charlie’s house. I feel like she’s waiting for me to say something, but I’m just not sure how to tell her what I am. That this was all my fault.
Eventually, she breaks the silence. “What was out there? In the woods?”
I glance at her, then back at the road. “You know.”
“One of them?” she gasps. “One of the bad ones?”
I nod, and my heart tugs at hearing her call my fellow collectors…me…bad ones.
“How many are there?” she breathes.
“Six.”
“That doesn’t seem like too many,” she says, sounding relieved. “How many good ones are there? The ones like you?”
“I…I’m not sure, Charlie.” It’s the truth, but it’s getting harder to answer her questions without lying. And I really don’t want to lie to her. Not anymore. I anxiously await her next question, wondering how I’ll dodge it. How much longer I can do this.
“I was excited about the dance,” she whispers, staring out the window. “Now it feels so trivial. You know?”
“You found the tickets.” I reach over and grab her hand.
Her eyes stay locked on the passenger window, watching the world speed by way too quickly. “Yeah.”
I can’t stand the defeat in her voice. Eight days ago, Charlie’s only worry was whether to wear purple or pink jeans to school. Now she’s fighting a soul contract I pushed her to sign, terrified the wrong people will claim her soul.
Before I can rationalize how terrible an idea this is, I say, “We’re going.”
She glances over. “Yeah, right.”
“We are.” I squeeze her hand. “We’re going to go. And when it’s over, we’ll face what needs to happen to keep your soul safe.”
“How?” she asks. “How will we be sure my soul isn’t in danger?”
I clench my jaw, because I’m terrified of how she’ll react when I tell her. I pull in a deep breath. “We’ll have to run.” When she doesn’t respond, I keep going. “We’ll have to run for a long time, Charlie. A really long time. And you’ll have to fight fulfilling the contract. It’s going to be really hard. The hardest thing you’ve ever done.” I rub up and down her arm and deliver the final blow. “You won’t be able to call home. You’ll have to tell your grandma and your friends—you’ll have to tell them good-bye.”
For a long time, Charlie stays quiet. She nods several times and squeezes my hand. I pull up to her house and face her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She looks at me and smiles. Then her voice breaks, and tears roll down her cheeks. “I did this to myself.”
I pull her into an embrace, and she sobs into my chest. I know she’s angry with me, that somewhere down deep she blames me instead of herself. And she should. But right now, she needs me to hold her. So I do. I keep my arms wrapped around her for as long as she wants. I let her cry until her blue eyes are red and swollen. Then I lift her chin in my hand and rub the tears from her cheeks and from beneath her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
She nods and chokes on more tears. “I d
on’t understand,” she says. “If I fulfill the contract, if I can’t resist the sickness, what will happen?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, which is true. I think because I signed the contract, her soul will slide inside of me. Then the collectors will try and steal it from me, or drag me back to hell and kill two birds with one stone. And then there’s Charlie herself. Once her soul leaves her body, I feel sure Boss Man will give the green light for her death, and he may send someone to take her out. I know killing a human could cause war, but it’s clear Boss Man doesn’t want to take any chances with Charlie, with what her life’s work could bring about.
I’m going to tell her this, all of this, but not tonight. I want Charlie to have one more day of happiness. Just one more.
I have two days to bring her in, so I’ll give her tomorrow night. It’ll allow me the time I need to book our flights and pack some things we’ll need along the way. I know I’m pushing my luck, but I need her to have this. One last day with her grandmother and one last night with her friends.
Then we’ll go.
“Listen,” I say, pulling her head against my chest. “I want you to spend time with your grandmother tomorrow. I want you to forget all about this and trust that I’m going to handle everything.” I lift her face and kiss her lips, tasting salt from her tears. “Tomorrow, I’m going to pick you up at seven o’clock and take you to that dance. It’s going to be perfect. I promise. Then after that…”
“We’ll run,” she finishes for me.
“Go upstairs and go to sleep. Imagine me lying next to you. Tomorrow this crap doesn’t exist. None of it, okay? It’s only you and me and the people you care about. Let me take care of everything.”
I wait for her to argue, to ask me questions I can’t—or don’t want to—answer. But she wraps her arms around my neck and pushes her forehead against mine. Then she closes her eyes and whispers, “I trust you.”
Her words trigger a warm current down my spine. I could never trust anyone the way she does me. I’d want every question answered, every rock overturned. But not her. She believes in people.
She believes in me.
I kiss her softly, taking my time, trying to memorize the taste and touch of her tongue. Then I lift my head and nod toward her house. She gets out of the car and limps her way up the sidewalk. As I watch her go, I wonder how I’ll ever protect her. I roll my ankle and silently curse my cuff. Other demons envy our cuffs—wish they were chosen to walk the earth. But I’ve always hated it, and now… Now it feels like a prison sentence. As long as I’m wearing it, they’ll always know where I am—and where she is, too. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Because without it, I can’t stay with her. Can’t ensure she’s safe.
At the door, Charlie turns and faces me. A tentative smile tugs at the side of her mouth. I give a small wave, and she blows a kiss. It’s such a funny, innocent thing to do. I can’t help but laugh.
The sound startles me, like I never expected to hear myself do that again.
Chapter Forty-six
The Dance
The next evening, I drive to Charlie’s house. I’m early, but I want her to know I’m looking forward to seeing her. It was all I could do to stop myself from parking outside her house last night just to ensure she was safe. But I didn’t want to have to try and explain what I was doing if she spotted me, and I certainly didn’t want the collector following me to question my actions.
Pulling up outside Charlie’s house, I try and relax. This night is for her. Besides, I’ve done everything I can to prepare us.
I’ve packed two bags full of food and clothing and booked two tickets to Tokyo, where an enormous population will shield us. Then I pulled out the maximum on my Amex Black, and cut the card—and a piece of my soul—in half. I won’t be able to use it once we’re on the run.
Inside one of the bags, I’ve stashed maps and names of places we can flee to at a moment’s notice. And wrapped in those maps…is the Glock .45 I bought this morning. It’s not usually my style to rely on a weapon to fight my battles, but we’re talking about demons here, not school-yard bullies. We’ll play everything else by ear, because the more planned we are, the more predictable we become.
Brushing off my charcoal blazer and red button-down, I take a deep breath. Charlie deserves this night, and I intend on giving it to her. I slide out of Elizabeth Taylor, head toward the porch, and ring the doorbell.
I wait for Grams to open the door, to give me the stank eye. Inside my head, I’m coming up with solid one-liners to throw her way. I’ve pretty much decided on something to do with a drunken shar-pei, when the door swings open.
I lift my eyes and gasp.
My heart clenches in my chest, and my muscles lock in place. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I never could in the first place. In fact, I’m quite certain I will never fill my lungs again. Even though I’m looking right at her, my eyes refuse to believe what they’re seeing.
Charlie stands inches away, her entire body transformed. She’s wearing the red dress I bought her, and on her back are two silk angel wings she must have picked up at a Halloween store. Her blond hair, smooth skin, and glasses-free eyes all look the same. I imagine if she were smiling, I’d still see perfectly straight teeth. But she’s not smiling. Not even close. That probably has something to do with the rest of her.
The way her cheekbones jut out, and the way her chest appears larger. The way her hips seem a bit fuller and her nose slightly thinner. I reach out and run my hand down her arm, the skin beneath my hand kissed with a fresh bronze glow. She is stunning, enough to stop a guy’s heart with a glance, but already, I yearn for my old Charlie.
“When?” I whisper.
“Last night. I was going to call, but it happened so fast. I couldn’t stop it, Dante.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “But I do look beautiful, don’t I?” She manages a small smile that shatters my dead soul.
“You’ve always been beautiful, sweetheart.” My forehead pricks with sweat, and my hands curl into fists. I’m afraid to turn on her soul light, afraid of what I’ll find. Is it over? Have I collected her soul without realizing it?
She steps toward me, and I notice something that makes my brain sing.
Her limp.
I point to her hip and grin so hard I’m afraid my face will break. “You still have—”
“Yeah,” she says. “No way is anyone taking that from me. I got it the night my parents died. It’s mine. No one else’s.”
I yank Charlie into a hug. I’m overwhelmed by her. Not her beauty, but her soul. It terrifies me that more of the contract was fulfilled. That the only piece left of her to give is that blessed limp. But I won’t let anything destroy her night. I’m not sure what to say to make things better, or to mask the fear I’m feeling, and before I can think of something good, I blurt, “You’re my girlfriend.”
Charlie stares at me, her mouth quivering, threatening to transform into a smile.
“Yeah, you are. And tomorrow, I’m going to show you just what I’m willing to do to keep you safe.” I lean over and kiss her gloss-coated lips. “But tonight we’re going to party school-safety style—punch and cookies and cheesy decorations. It’s going to be awesome.”
Her quasi-smile blossoms. “I shouldn’t be scared,” she says, and it sounds like something between a statement and a question.
“You should be terrified,” I say. “Because I’m going to show you dance moves that’ll have you begging for my shit.”
She slaps my chest, and though a nervous hesitation lingers in her eyes, she allows me to take her hand and lead her toward the car.
“Where’s Grams?” I ask as she carefully crawls into her seat, ensuring her wings don’t get crushed.
“Said she was really tired, but she made me take a million pictures before I left.”
As we drive toward Centennial High School, I wonder how Charlie explained her new look to Grams. I decide not to mention it for fear of bringing the subject up again. Inste
ad, I take her hand and squeeze. And a part of me—the tiniest little piece—gets excited about this stupid school dance.
Because I know it may be the last time I’ll see Charlie truly happy.
…
Charlie and I walk into the school gym, and I let out a long sigh. It’s just as I feared. It’s like every loser in Peachville got together and shopped for the most horrifically cheesy decorations.
Near the floor, a fog machine blasts hazy clouds, and dangling from the rafters are a bazillion black and orange streamers. Along the walls, some douchebag has taped paper spiders and pumpkins. And the band—oh, sweet mercy—the band. They’re like a cross between mini Justin Biebers and the Jonas Brothers, and the Halloween covers they’re playing make my ears bleed. But when I glance at Charlie, decked out in her red dress and angel wings, everything becomes wonderful again. If she’s here, I’m happy. But if she steps out to, like, pee or something, I’m lighting a match.
As Charlie and I walk toward the dance floor, all eyes take her in. Whispers are exchanged, and fingers are pointed, and I can’t help getting pissed off. I mean, why couldn’t they have noticed her before? She was just as amazing then. But I guess I’m just as guilty of overlooking her.
Seeing Charlie now, I almost don’t recognize her myself. It causes a twinge of nerves to rush through me. Will she move on now that she’s physically perfect?
But almost like she’s reading my mind, she absently reaches her polished nails into her dress pocket and pops a few Skittles in her mouth. I bite my lip to keep from laughing, because that tiny action tells me she’s still Charlie. She’s still my girl.
Annabelle sees us and races over. “Char-char!” she squeals. “You look phenomenal.” Her face changes, like she’s realizing exactly how phenomenal. “In fact, you look different. Like, way different.”
“I let Grams do my makeup,” Charlie chirps.
Annabelle eyes her. “Yeah, I don’t know.”
Charlie pulls her friend into a hug, going for distraction. “Come on, squeeze me,” she says. “I like your costume. It’s…uh…”
“I’m Katharine Hepburn,” Annabelle says, her face relaxing somewhat.