Eternal bonds are involved—monogamous covenants that will link us together for the rest of existence could be on the line if I make the proper arrangements.
And I will.
3
Hearts like Broken Glass
Laken
Rain falls in sheets, causing the lights at Austen House to flicker every now and again, followed by a sizzle of lightning bold enough to illuminate the secrets of the night. But not even a lightning storm of this magnitude can detour Flynn from bouncing onto my bed with expectations that will never be met.
“And by the way”—I take a seat at my desk and flip open my laptop—“don’t ever come into the library and start talking shop with Wes in the vicinity. That’s sloppy. One misstep and I’ll be the offering at the next unholy slaughter.”
“Got it.” He groans while getting comfortable on my mattress. “Let’s get my sister out of hock, and we won’t have to worry about me interrupting your suck-face time with Romeo. And what’s up with that? I thought you and Coop had something going.”
“Nope.” I’m quick to deflect the accusation. “The old Wes is trapped in that body, and it’s my responsibility to get him out. He’d do the same for me. Besides, didn’t you hear? Coop is taking Grayson to homecoming.”
Flynn gives a little laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” A guilty grin spreads over his face. Flynn is gorgeous in that surfer-boy-next-door kind of way.
“Something’s up—spill it.”
“Last summer Coop was messing with her for kicks, and I was, too.” He shrugs. “No big deal, unless you’re Cooper keep-away-from-my-girl’s-crotch Flanders. He was pretty pissed when he found out.”
My mouth falls open at the revelation.
Flynn averts his eyes for a moment. “Grayson didn’t think it was that big of a deal either—so don’t go painting me like some big bad wolf.”
“Cooper was messing with Grayson?” My dinner does a solid revolution in my stomach, and suddenly I want to hurl it across the room at Flynn for the hell of it. And in no way do I want a definition of the word messing.
“Yeah, so? I was, too. Grayson gets around. She’s not a trophy catch like you.” He tosses Casper’s old teddy bear at me.
“What’s a trophy catch?” I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know, but if my girl parts are up for a prize, I should be enlightened.
“Trophy catch, you know—hard to get. You’re probably a virgin, so it’s made of win.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not, so I guess my stock just tanked.” Tucker Donavan runs through my mind like an armed robber bagging my vagina and taking off with it like some million dollar heist. Only, I gave it away for far less than a million dollars—I believe a cheeseburger and the backseat of his Camaro were involved.
“No kidding, huh? You sleep with that fake Wes of yours?”
Fake Wes. I know I’ve referenced Wes that way before, but I don’t like the way it sounds coming from Flynn. I’m wondering if it was a good idea to let him in on everything or if I should have taken Coop’s advice and kept him on a need to know basis.
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t Wes—wasn’t Coop either.” I thought I’d cut him off at the pass with that last tidbit of info, but my heart mourned for one just like it did the other. I can’t have both, so either way I’m heading toward heartache.
“Well, if you’re in need of something quick and dirty.” He plucks a condom out of his pocket. “I’m always ready to serve at the feet of a queen like you. I don’t bite unless you want me to, and I always say please and thank you.”
“Wow, you’re a real gentlemen.”
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Coop.
Home yet?
I text him back. Sitting in my room with Flynn.
Flynn is a mattress magnet. Keep a safe distance.
I give a soft laugh.
Where are you? Maybe he’s at work? If he is, I might have to cure my sudden craving for Mexican food. I can feel a serious appetite coming on, and very little of it has to do with satiating my stomach.
He texts right back. Austen House—three doors down. Updating software for a friend. Almost through. We need to talk before I leave.
My heart drops like a stone. Grayson’s room is three doors down. Cooper was “messing” with her last summer, and Flynn injected himself into the situation. Maybe if he hadn’t stuck his little head in the way they’d still be together? But he’s in her room, touching her software, and the thought makes my blood boil like lava just beneath my skin.
“Anything you want to share?” Flynn nods toward my phone.
“That was Coop.” I stare down at it before tossing it to the foot of my bed. “He’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Coop.” He makes a face before springing up to his feet. “That’s my signal. God forbid he think I’m trying to tap his fountain.”
Fountain? I’ll let this one slide.
“I’m thinking a nice long walk will get me somewhere.” Flynn gazes out of the blackened window in the direction of the forest.
“To do what? Feed a Spectator what’s left of your brain?” I’m sure there are more than a few zombies just waiting for a delicacy like Flynn Masterson to wander into those woods. And, judging by his eagerness to run toward danger, I bet that cranium of his is filled with an entire stack of stupid. His brain might actually harm Spectators, not cure them. Flynn should consider stamping an FDA warning across his forehead as a courtesy to the coffin-challenged creatures.
He makes a face as he heads toward the door. “There’s nothing wrong with my brain, Laken. I’ve got a sister who’s being assaulted in God knows how many ways, and I’m not about to sit around and wait for you to unlock the combination to Wesley’s Levis.”
Great. Now I feel like shit.
“We’re not waiting for me to unlock the combo to anybody’s Levis. Besides I’m heading to a new ritual this Wednesday. I’m getting in deeper.”
“What ritual?” He opens the door an inch.
“Wes said I’d be a Treasure.”
“Another waste of time.” He lets out a sigh. “It’s the Counts version of the Girl Scouts. I wouldn’t rely on that getting you anywhere.”
“Maybe it’s the next step. Maybe after, Wes will take me to another ritual, and it’ll be the one that leads to the neck of my mother.” It disgusts me to even think about.
Flynn shakes his head. “I would have never guessed that about the Counts—the blood, and guts, and gore—the kidnapping.” His eyes gloss over. “That’s the ritual you need to get to—get us to their fucking hideout. I don’t know what’s stopping you from shaking the shit out of Wes.” His eyes flare with anger. “If you don’t, I will.” Flynn slams the door behind him and it coincides with the thunder booming overhead.
Crap.
Flynn Masterson is a loose cannon. If he does end up taking a walk in the forest, I might just root for the Spectator.
Cooper doesn’t show. Instead, Jen barrels into the room like a hurricane and begins tossing things into an overnight bag.
“Did you see Cooper out there?” I’m embarrassed to even ask. I know full well Grayson is pulling out the double D stops to keep him from exiting her bedroom, especially since his next destination happens to concern me.
“Yeah, and I sent him home.” She looks indignant. “He had some lame excuse that he was installing something in Grayson’s hard drive.” She rolls her eyes. “There’s no way he’s knocking her up on my watch.”
Should have known Jen was responsible in some small way. As the official Austen House cock-blocker she’s pretty much on the scent of any testosterone carrying team member.
“I’ll be staying downstairs tonight,” she says without breaking her frenetic rhythm. “I checked out the old den mother’s room, and didn’t find a leak—so I changed the sheets, and I’m good to go. Your new roommate, Hattie, should be here in less than ten.” She slams the drawer shut. “Be nice to her, woul
d you?”
“I’ll be a saint.” Just knowing Hattie Tobias will be sawing Z’s less than six feet away is already robbing me of a good night’s sleep. But she wouldn’t hurt me, right? I mean we have the same goals. She wants to help her family, and I want to help mine.
Maybe this is a good thing? But I’m betting not.
I shoot a quick text to Coop while Jen deep sixes everything she can into her plethora of duffle bags.
My new roomie is on her way.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and Jen lets Hattie in with her fresh from the fifties hair style, her dark cesspools for eyes, and that candy-coated smile that tells you she would just as soon strangle you in your sleep as she would lend you her best wool sweater.
My phone buzzes, but I ignore it momentarily as Jen and I meet with the newly resurrected.
“I’ve got most of my things,” Jen announces, saddling herself with excess baggage. “I should clear out by tomorrow. If you have any questions, Laken will be more than happy to help you. Don’t stay up too late, that’s my only rule.” She hedges her way out the door and blows me a kiss. “No boys!” She shouts as the door shuts behind her.
“No boys?” Hattie growls it out with the undertones of a laugh. “We know better don’t we, Laken.”
There’s something concerning about the deep octave of her voice just took. She held a tenor usually reserved for a man, and that more than slightly creeps me out. But, then again, she’s not exactly naturally engineered, so I can’t really blame her.
“So how’d you do it?” I ask, hopping onto my mattress. “How’d you score a ride on the flesh express?”
She glides over to my bed as if she were a poltergeist. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She narrows a hostile gaze in my direction. “Let’s get started on finding my family, shall we?”
“Like now? Good luck with that. Rumor has it Flynn might be up for a stroll through the haunted forest, but I’ll be the last one you get out in those woods without the false security of daylight. Let’s get some sleep and recharge those borrowed batteries of yours, first.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move. Hattie Tobias has no clue how to act like a human. I guess sixty years without practice will do that to a disembodied person.
“Are you just going to stand there, staring at me all night? I gawk up at her, more than slightly freaked out by her resurrected presence.
My phone buzzes from under my leg, and I reach for it. It’s a text from Coop.
Your new roommate isn’t Hattie Tobias. It’s a Fem.
I snatch my backpack off the floor and run like hell out of Austen House.
Cooper
Laken barrels into the road just as my truck rounds out the driveway above Austen House.
She jumps in and slams the door behind her, manually punching down the lock.
“Drive.” She pants with enough fear pulsating out of her chest to fuel a generator.
“Are you okay?” Obviously, she’s not okay. Obviously, I’m an idiot for thinking it was all right to text her vital information that had the potential to scare the living shit out of her and send her running in my direction. And, unfortunately for Laken, I’m an ass because deep down inside, this is exactly what I wanted.
“Jen moved out of the room, and Hattie—that thing—showed up. She has these soulless eyes, and she just kept staring at me. There’s no way in hell I’m going back there.”
“Laken,” I push her name out with grief as I pull in behind the cedars just beyond the granite Ephemeral Academy sign. “I don’t think it’s going to hurt you.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You want to send me back there?” Her chest heaves out of her uniform, and I get lost for a moment watching her flesh quiver.
“No, I don’t want to send you back. But if I thought you were in any danger whatsoever, I would never have waited all day to tell you. The Tobias sisters showed up earlier for their regularly scheduled haunting and were less than impressed to find out someone, or something, had taken up residency here on campus in their name. I talked to my dad, and he seems to think it’s a Fem.”
“Why?” Moisture glistens her eyes.
“Because they’re twisted.” I feel like a jerk for scaring the shit out of her. “What do you want to do for tonight?” I’m half-afraid she’ll be in Wesley’s arms within the hour. That she’ll want me to drive her to Henderson, and I’ll have the image of her running up the steps to meet him immortalized in my mind forever like some unwanted screensaver.
“Where are you going, Coop?” She cuts me a sharp look.
A smile plays on my lips. Laken knows damn well where I’m going.
“I’m going home,” I say it just above a whisper.
“Well then, I guess I’m coming with you.”
The moonlight streams in through the skeletal branches of the cedar, the dappled light softens over her features, illuminating her like some otherworldly goddess.
My adrenaline soars as I start up the engine and head back onto the highway.
The road smooths beneath the tires and a pinhole of light emerges in the distance as we speed toward the first stoplight in Trinity County. We’re escaping the nightmare world of Ephemeral if only for a night.
I’m heading home with Laken by my side.
It looks like Wesley’s nightmare is just beginning.
The lights are on in the house, making the windows glow a soft orange. Pumpkins line the porch on either end as I step aside, letting Laken walk ahead of me.
“I love it.” She nods up at the window that Marky attacked with construction paper. A wrought iron gate with a frightened cat decorates the picture window out front. A full moon with a bat slicing through the center greets us from the kitchen. Halloween and Christmas is pretty much what Marky lives for this time of year. Sorry to the turkey. He always seems to get the shaft.
“Everything looks so homey.” Laken takes in a breath as if Marky’s artwork belonged in a gallery.
The doorknob spins, and Marky’s little face appears, murky, from the other side of the screen.
“Laken!” She does a little bunny hop before letting us inside.
“Marky!” Laken matches her enthusiasm.
“I thought I’d bring home a friend.” I give my sister a half-hug. “How many times have I told you to look out the window before opening the door?” I say it mostly in jest, but I’d hate for Marky to find herself in hot water one day because she didn’t heed my advice.
I pull off my jacket and toss it on the couch.
Dad has taken off to Boston on another one of his conferences, leaving behind the latchkey princess and me to hold down the fort.
“I didn’t need to look out the window,” Marky smarts. “I heard your voice.” She jets out her hip to emphasize her sarcasm. Marky squeals and wraps her arms tight around Laken’s waist. “I miss you.” It comes out sweet enough, but there’s desperation buried beneath her words, and I’m heartbroken for her, slightly embarrassed by the scene all together.
“I missed you, too.” Laken plants a kiss over Marky’s head, and her eyelids tremble as if she were about to cry. “How about a movie?” She looks to me for approval.
“No way. It’s nine.” I shake my head. “She’ll be a zombie in the morning if she stays up any later.”
Marky balks at me with the attitude of a thousand angry teenagers. “You always ruin everything.”
“We’ll do it another time.” Laken is quick to rectify. “I promise.” She strokes her hair before ushering her toward the stairs.
“Will you tuck me?” Marky’s mouth falls open as if the idea hadn’t dawned on her until now but it was such a fantastic one that she could hardly absorb it.
“You bet. I’ll meet you up there in five.” Laken beams a smile. She warms the entire house with her larger-than-life presence.
I’d mention the fact that Jen is going to kill her—that she probably has Austen House swarming with an army of detectives by
now, but I’m not up for ruining the moment, so I don’t say a word.
“I’ll get you some blankets. You like your pillow soft or hard?” A smile tugs on my lips when I say it. It seems like everything turns into sexual banter with her, with or without any effort. Laken seems to pull the dirty perv out of me without even trying.
“Soft or hard?” She mouths the words with a river of laughter bubbling from her chest. “I don’t plan on sleeping down here, Coop. I very much plan on sleeping right next to you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that would be setting a great example for Marky.” I’d hate to fast forward ten years and find some goofball lying in her bed while she throws Laken in my face.
“I’m sleeping in your room, Coop,” Laken says it with an easy smile. “Either that or you can take up the couch with me, but I’m not leaving your side.”
The idea of arguing with Laken over, of all things, sleeping arrangements seems laughable. Dad isn’t home. Marky will be out like a rock in less than fifteen minutes, and I have the girl of my dreams ready and willing to cozy up with me all night long. I’d be a fool not to agree to her demands.
“Looks like we’re going to have a sleepover.” I give a devilish grin.
“Looks like we are.”
Marky makes sure both Laken and I read her a story, which I find amusing on many levels. I haven’t read her a bedtime story in about six years, but something about her turns into a four-year-old whenever Laken is around, so I guess it makes sense. It’s clear she misses Mom, and Laken is like the big sister she never had.
I shut the door to my bedroom and lock it—not that Marky has ever wandered into my room at night, but something tells me the odds are a little higher with Laken here.
“I put the couch together downstairs to make it look like a body is taking up residence,” I say. “If we hear Marky scream, we’ll know why.”
Laken plops on my bed with her shoulder hiked up on one side, her mouth pouting in my direction as if she were trying to seduce me.