Evanescent

  My stomach lurches, but I don’t correct her.

  I love you, too, Laken Anderson.

  Her smile fades with the sentiment, and now I feel like crap for bringing it up.

  She pulls me in close and studies me as if she’s seeing me for the very first time.

  One day—she gives a brief nod—either you or I will find out we were wrong. And when you do, I expect a full apology.

  I hold back a laugh because I know she’s not teasing, but damn she’s cute while embroiled in her delusion.

  I’ll apologize to you until I’m blue in the face for anything you want, I say. But I swear to you, Laken—you’re safe. You were never kidnaped, and I never knew you as any other person. I would never string you along in that way just to get you in my bed. I have far too much respect for you. I give a stern look, hoping she’ll read between the lines.

  Laken tickles my ribs and laughs. And when you do apologize—she inverts her bottom lip and lets it out by way of her teeth—I suggest you get down on your knees and beg my forgiveness.

  “I’ll get down on my knees a lot sooner than that and for entirely different reasons.” I blow it out like a promise before finding her lips with mine.

  Laken and I are unified in soul and spirit with only one thing left for us to explore. I can’t wait to dive into Laken, love her with every ounce of strength my body can afford.

  “I heard that.” She rattles my hand and gives an impish grin.

  “I was hoping you would.” I bow down and meet her lips again. Laken blesses me with a careful kiss while soft moans of ecstasy escape her. But it’s the wall she’s putting up around her thoughts that makes me wonder what exactly it is she’s trying to hide.

  Inside Henderson Hall, the party has gone from zero to superhero. Every comic book character known to geekdom has arrived in number and is trying out his or her dance moves while drunk off their asses.

  “Everyone’s wrecked,” Laken shouts over the music.

  I’d offer to take her to my room and ask her to help out with the hard-on blooming in my jeans, but she already mentioned Halloween wasn’t her holiday of choice for sleeping with me for the very first time. I still don’t believe she slept with Miles Richards. That guy gives assholes everywhere a bad name. There’s no way she would have slept with him in her right mind. Then again she did get tanked and entice the entire basketball team just in time to get herself kicked out of Rycroft. And I sort of find that hard to believe as well.

  “Hey, Wes.” Kresley latches onto me, rolling her head back before walloping me with a wet, sloppy kiss.

  “Geez.” I push her off. “What the hell happened? You guys dunk your heads in a vat of vodka?”

  “Lighten up.” She cuts a hard look to Laken. “Looks like your little princess has you believing you’re too good for the rest of us now.”

  “And what the hell are you supposed to be?” Laken examines her scantily clad leather and lace get up, her tall knee-high boots and vamped up makeup.

  “A naughty witch.” Kres gets in her face and swivels her neck. “One who likes to hunt down vapid cheerleaders and feed them to her flying monkeys for breakfast.”

  “Oh, I see. So you opted for no costume.” Laken is quick with the comeback. “Have you seen Hattie?” She cranes her neck in twelve different directions. I wonder if she’ll feel different about Hattie now that she’s been to the tunnels?

  Hattie seems nice enough, but she’s a Celestra, and each one of them is a natural born enemy. It’s about time Laken starts to see things that way, too. Especially where Coop is concerned.

  “Yeah, I did.” Kres exaggerates a sad face. “She’s upstairs with a noose around her neck—said she was going to do everyone a favor and hang herself at midnight.”

  “I’d better find her.” Laken checks her phone before zipping it back in her skirt. “She really misses her family. This is all overwhelming for her.” She hikes up on the balls of her feet and presses a kiss against my lips. “Maybe we can hang out later? You can teach me a few tricks, and I’ll give you a treat.” She bats her lashes at me.

  Holy shit.

  I rattle out a dry laugh. “It’s on, girl.” I land my lips over hers and plunge my tongue into her mouth in one smooth move.

  God, I love you, Wes.

  I love you, too, Laken.

  She darts off into the crowd as the strobe lights kick into high gear. Any second now I’m expecting half a dozen people to start in on seizures and truthfully their dance moves might improve.

  “So how are things going with the two of you?” Kres stands next to me, pretending to people watch when we both know the only thing she’s interested in observing is misery.

  “Things are going great, not that it’s any of your business.” I scan the room for signs of Fletch or Blaine, hell I’d take Edinger at this point to get away from Kres.

  “It’s not my business? I thought we were friends, Wes.” She leans in. “You know me. If I know for a fact one of my friends is getting hurt then I make it my business to protect them.”

  “I don’t need your protection.” I spot Blaine by the entry and start to head over.

  Kres yanks me back by the sleeve and shoves her phone in my face—it’s a picture of Laken and Coop locked at the lips, her leg is hiked up in the back like she’s enjoying the hell out of it.

  My body solidifies. My insides grind.

  “That was tonight,” she says, pointing out the date on the facebook update.

  “Marky Flanders,” I say, reading the name above the post. Shit. I take the phone from her and examine Laken in her cheer uniform, Coop in his football garb. The update reads, the perfect couple.

  My heart turns to lead, my blood to concrete.

  Cooper Flanders is going to die, and I’m going to make sure it looks like an unfortunate accident.

  Happy Halloween, Coop.

  It’s going to be your last.

  11

  Monsters and Demons

  Laken

  The wind whistles and howls as fractured cackles echo throughout campus at this late hour. I run up the hill and crest over the ridge just south of the giant boulders that sit in a clearing.

  I send a quick text to Coop. Where are you?

  Right behind you.

  I spin on my heels to find his expansive shoulder span, his happy-to-see-me grin.

  “Coop!” I jump up and hug him as if we had been separated for generations—as if death had interceded, and we were being reunited after an entire lifetime apart.

  “It’s okay. I got you. You did good.” He presses a kiss in my neck and nuzzles into me a moment. It’s sweet like this with Coop, safe. No pretenses, no lies—not a single secret lingers between us. “Wes knows,” he whispers. His features soften as if he were sorry to convey the news.

  “Knows what?” An explosion of panic fills me, and I’m not sure why.

  “That you’ve been taking blood from me. He knows you can read his mind—I guess he’s known for a while.” He steadies his eyes over me. “It’s a long story.”

  Shit.

  “Excuse me?” An impatient voice calls from behind.

  We turn to find Hattie in her Ephemeral cheer uniform, looking more than a little disgusted by our bold show of affection.

  “We’re just friends.” I spit it out so fast it sounds like the excuse it is. “Special friends.”

  Hattie gives a coy smile.

  “I found my special friend tonight.” That wicked gleam returns to her eyes, and for a moment my stomach pinches at the thought of not trusting her again.

  “If it’s Kresley or Grayson I might have to educate you on what a true friend is,” I say only partially kidding. Those girls qualify as the training grounds for the future bitches of America and not much else.

  “I’m talking about, Flynn.” She shakes her head, and her ponytail coils in a single ringlet in the back. “He asked me to find you. He said he needed to talk to the both of you but not to tell anyone else.??
?

  “Hattie!” I rush over to her.

  “Where is he?” Coop darts a glance into the forest in a fit of frustration. “Is he all right?”

  She shrinks a little as if she knows he’s anything but all right.

  “God—he’s not dead is he?”

  “I don’t think he’s dead.” Hattie inverts her perfect bowtie lips as if she wasn’t entirely telling the truth.

  “Shit.” Cooper stamps it out because we’re both thinking the same thing.

  What Flynn might be going through is a lot more complicated than death.

  “Can you take us to him?” I ask, trying to restrain myself from freaking out.

  “Oh yes.” She heads in the direction of the woods. “He’s got new friends and everything.”

  Coop and I exchange looks.

  Sleepy Hollow comes upon us with its long nefarious arms. The violet sky acts as a dramatic backdrop to the necrotic skeletal maples, the bare-naked birch trees with their network of fingerlike protrusions.

  Coop plucks a flashlight out of his jeans and illuminates a path as Hattie runs us deeper into the woods.

  He interlaces our fingers and pulls me in.

  What if this is a trap? I ask, trying to keep up with him. How well do we know Hattie? And who the hell is she if she’s not a Tobias?

  “Hattie!” Coop barks, and she comes to a standstill. Those large doe eyes of hers look slightly terrified by his tone. “When you came to me that first night, you said you wanted to help find your family.”

  She takes an uneasy step toward us. “That’s what they wanted me to say.”

  “Who are ‘they,’ Hattie?” I ask, trying to maintain the fine line of trust with her. “Is it Wesley?”

  Her eyes widen as if she sees where this is going.

  “You don’t believe me. You think I’m here to hurt you. I would never do that Laken. You have to believe me. Flynn and you—you’re my only friends.”

  “A few weeks back,” I start, “you morphed into a monster in the dining hall. As far as I know, Celestra can’t do that.” I don’t finish, and let her surmise what she will.

  “There was a Fem with me that morning. He said he liked to have fun with you.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. We shouldn’t speak. They might hear.

  I give a brief nod. Tell me, Hattie. Who’s doing this? Are they trying to throw me off?

  I can’t go back there. Her face fills with fear, and for a second I think she’s going to bolt. I shouldn’t say anything else.

  Then don’t tell me. I tighten my grip over her. Show me their faces.

  Here are your enemies, Laken. An image of Jones pops up with his tie notched just above his sweater. Edinger stains the landscape of her mind, seated at his desk—across from him sits Cooper. He leans over and shakes Edinger’s hand, and my blood runs cold. My body goes numb from the visual. Her mind goes blank, and it’s done.

  Wesley wasn’t a part of the show.

  I glance over at the boy who so efficiently stole my heart. Cooper?

  Which one put you up to this? I pull Hattie in as if I were about to give her a hug.

  Figure it out, Laken. I’m not going back into that hellhole just because you can’t do the math.

  The rustle of branches emits from the south.

  “They’re here!” She pulls me along as we trek deeper into the armpit of these unhallowed woods until we come upon a clearing. “Flynn?” Her voice quivers as she calls his name.

  A stench fills the air. One by one the shadows around us come to life, and bodies fill in the landscape.

  I suck in a quick breath.

  “There’s enough of them to outfit a small city,” I whisper to Coop.

  Too bad they’re not human. Every single one of them is a Spectator.

  I latch onto Cooper for dear life.

  We’re surrounded—far too outnumbered to ever win this war.

  If this isn’t a trap, I don’t know what is.

  Cooper

  Spectators hold a peculiar stench. They make rotting fish and sour milk smell about as pleasant and welcome as apple pie.

  The shadows move in around us. Bodies, in numbers too high to count, shade the open spaces as grunts and howls take over the night.

  I would have thought we could trust Hattie. I thought for sure she was leading us to Flynn as she made us believe. And now, here we are a hundred deep in a crowd of long forgotten humans who happen to crave the very thing we need to survive—brains.

  I run my hand up my thigh as I reach for the meager weaponry on me. I’ve got nothing but a six-inch pocketknife and my bare hands to protect Laken. There are far too many of them to ever win this fight.

  A hard grunt riles up the masses. A Spectator with jeans and an Ephemeral practice jersey makes his way to the middle with his wiry hair, his body strutting in staccato motions, his arms and legs locked in their partial rigor state. I recognize those stoned out eyes—that stupefied look.

  Shit.

  “Flynn!” Hattie runs over and jumps on his stiff frame causing him to stumble back a few good feet.

  “Looks like she’s the real deal after all,” Laken whispers, wrapping her arms tight around my waist.

  “Coop,” Flynn grunts it out with all his effort.

  I head over and lay my hand over his so he can speak his mind, literally.

  His flesh is cold to the touch and rubbery as a corpse, but I suppose that’s par for the course as far as Spectators go.

  “What the hell happened?” I ask as the crowd narrows in on us. Laken places her hand over mine in an effort to listen in.

  Dude! He grunts in his enthusiasm. I found the Tobias family. They’re ready and willing to head to the resurrection chamber. By the way, I think I’m going to need some resurrecting myself.

  I glance at Laken. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to tell Flynn there’s no cure for his condition.

  “What are all these other people doing here?” Laken shudders when she says the word people. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  Flynn looks around at the growing number of Spectators.

  Dude, these guys are tight, he asserts. And they’re ready and willing to try anything to improve their situation. They’re totally down with checking out, Ezrina. He grunts as if to annunciate his point.

  “Which one bit you?” I pan the vicinity for the guilty party. We may as well pinpoint who’s to blame for Masterson’s demise. I don’t know why he would get so close to one to begin with.

  There were these two hot chicks. He looks down with the hint of a budding smile. Dude, they were hitting on me. It was like they wanted a threesome right there in the woods, and you could hardly see the rot on their faces. They were like cover models. I couldn’t resist.

  Laken and I groan in unison.

  “I hope you’re happy, Flynn,” Laken snips. “Just because you couldn’t control that garden snake in your pants, we’re going to have a zombie apocalypse on our hands. You have successfully screwed us all.”

  Garden snake? He huffs. Honey, I’ll have you know, I have the ability to give anacondas a run for their slithering money. If you want a private show just name the time and place.

  “Oh gross!” Laken swats him in the chest. “Just call off your friends, so we can get out of here with our brains intact.”

  Exactly. Flynn grunts as he says it. We all want to get a move on to the Transfer, so Ezrina can get her potions in motion. He slaps an arm over my shoulder. Let’s roll, buddy.

  I glance around at the enormous crowd.

  I’d have to carry them all individually. This would take weeks. Tell them it’s just the Tobias family for now.

  Flynn calls out to the crowd in what sounds like a Spectator’s version of yodeling, and a young boy and girl step forward.

  “Where’s the father?” I say it breathless. It’s hard to believe Flynn, in all of his boneheaded glory, actually came through for once.

  Dead. Flynn glances from me to Laken.
Rumor has it a white hunter with a sharp knife killed him while he was chasing a young girl through these very woods. Pummeled his brains out a few weeks back. Flynn gives an intense look that scares the living shit out of me.

  “I killed him?” As if I had to ask.

  “And I was the girl.” Laken looks down, despondent over the news. “It was the first day I arrived, and you saved me.” She brushes her fingers over my cheek with a resolute sadness.

  “I killed him.” I sway on my feet. I’ve never really viewed them as people before. “It was Emmanuel Tobias.”

  The boy and girl step into our midst, and Hattie picks up the little girl’s hand.

  “Richard and Kara,” Hattie introduces us to the Spectator duo.

  Thunder rolls from above. A tremor of lightning illuminates the forest, and the Tobias sisters appear in tandem—first in their haggard state, then in their healthier, comelier forms.

  “Richard! Kara!” Hattie barks as if she were reprimanding them. She and Amelia head over and engage in life-clutching hugs that go on for a long time. “We’re so glad to have you back.” Hattie caresses the side of Kara’s deteriorating face. “This will heal. I promise.” She looks up at her brother. “And father?”

  Shit.

  Richard shakes his head and grunts out something unintelligible.

  “I see.” Hattie and Amelia exchange a forlorn glance. “He’s in paradise,” she whispers to the quieter of the two. They nod into one another as if they were conducting a private conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to the two of them at the risk of outing myself as the killer, but neither of them acknowledges my apology.

  The original Hattie steps forward and touches the hair of the Celestra taking up residence at Ephemeral.

  “They gave you my name,” she says with a marked sense of pride.

  Amelia, the silent one, goes over and offers a firm embrace to the doppelganger of the bunch.

  “She’s mine,” Hattie says to both Laken and I. “My granddaughter.”

  “Granddaughter?” The word expels from Laken in a fog.

  “They freed you,” she whispers. “You must never let them take you back.”