Evanescent

  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 fucking 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 fucking 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.