Authors: AJ Myers
“Nope.”
He shrugged as if it wasn’t
a big deal and I just shook my head. I couldn’t imagine not being able to
sleep, not being able to escape my reality for just a little while. But Tyler
acted like it was the most natural thing in the world not to have the peace of
letting his mind rest, of not being able to lose himself in his dreams.
Not that my dreams had been
anything I wanted to get lost in lately, either.
“He’s all right, you know,”
Tyler murmured, lifting his cup to take a sip.
“Who?” I asked, pretending
to play dumb.
“Ashley,” he said, smiling
and rolling his eyes. “You’re not really going to tell me you weren’t worried,
are you?”
“Nathan’s a big boy, he can
take care of himself,” I told him, shrugging like I wasn’t tied up in knots
over the fact that Nathan hadn’t come home. “He’s just pouting.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t
you think?” Tyler asked, frowning at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Look
at it through his eyes for a second. He can’t help you, Ember. Not with
this. Can you imagine being as powerful as he is and being absolutely
powerless
to save someone you love more than you love yourself?”
Looked at that way, Nathan’s
end of the deal did kind of suck. Since Nathan wasn’t a witch, he wouldn’t be
able to help us during the ritual to get rid of Bastian. One of the most
powerful guys on our team would be on the bench, watching everyone he cared
about risk their lives. As hard as what I was going to do was, it was nothing
compared to what he would have to do.
Rather than admit Tyler was
right, I walked over to the table to take a look at what he’d been doing.
There had to have been ten open books covering the surface and I could see he
had started making notes. Curious, I leaned over to see what he had come up
with and he snatched the legal pad from under my nose.
“That’s not research,” he
said, his cheeks looking suspiciously pink as he tore off the first three or
four pages and folded them up before shoving them in his back pocket.
“Love letters?” I guessed
playfully, sitting down at the table and curling up, ready to talk about
something other than rituals and monsters for a little while.
“More like my own way of
struggling to accept the things I can’t change,” he said sadly, shrugging and
pulling his books back toward him.
I sat there and sipped my
coffee for a long time, watching as he flipped pages in his books and scribbled
notes, trying to figure him out. How many secrets were hidden behind that
handsome face? God, that had to be a lonely existence, not having anyone to
share your secrets with other than a notebook. Secrets and lies. That’s what
I was starting to think immortality amounted to.
“Tyler, when are you going
to tell me the truth?” I asked without meaning to.
“I always tell you the
truth, beautiful,” he said, looking up to frown at me.
“Then tell me what you are,”
I countered, knowing already that I was going to be disappointed.
Sighing, he put down his pen
and reached for my hand instead. For a long moment he just stared at our
hands, his thoughts playing across his features and yet still managing to give
no hint of what they might be. He was totally unreadable…and, yet, I felt like
I’d known him forever. I wanted him to trust me enough to share his secrets with
me. I just didn’t know how to get past the defenses he had up around him that
made the Great Wall of China look like a bunch of kid’s blocks in comparison.
“I want to tell you, Em,”
he said, softly. “I just…it’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not,” I argued, rolling
my eyes. “Allow me to demonstrate. I’m a blood witch—and a terrible one at
that—who is a magnet for every weird and dangerous thing that wanders onto the
same continent as me. I know more dead people than live ones, my boyfriend is
a vampire, and my two best friends are even weirder than I am. And don’t even
get me
started
on my Grams.
“See?” I asked him,
grinning, when he shook his head and smiled at me. “Dude! It’s
simple
.
You try it.”
“Em, it’s not that easy,” he
said, his smile slipping away again. “I want to tell you, I really do, but I’m
afraid—”
A loud knock at the door
interrupted what he was about to say and I felt a jab of frustration. What had
he been about to
say
? He was afraid I wouldn’t like him anymore? He
was afraid I wouldn’t understand? More questions I wasn’t getting an answer
to, because he let go of my hand and picked up his pen again as if he hadn’t
just left me hanging.
“You might want to get
that,” he said, smiling gently at me when the doorbell started to ring to go
along with someone kicking the door.
Knowing I wasn’t going to
get any more out of him, I left Tyler to whatever he was doing and went to
answer the door. I was glad it was the front and not the door to the garage.
I had a feeling that exit was permanently closed to the public thanks to my
hot-headed mate. When I threw open the door and saw Kim standing on the steps,
her arms full of bags and something that looked terrifyingly like a sparkly
pair of pink wings, I had to fight back a groan.
“Well, are you going to let
me in?” she asked when I just stood and looked at her for a few seconds. “We
were supposed to get ready for Senior Goof Week today. You didn’t forget, did
you, Em?”
I groaned anyway. I had
hoped
she
would forget. Senior Goof Week was like some form of torture
that should be outlawed—like having bamboo shoots shoved under your fingernails
or electroshock therapy. Seriously, I’m just not that creative. Coming up
with some outrageous outfit for each day of the week is the closest to torture
I ever want to
get
.
Rather than say that, I
stepped back and motioned for her to come on in. Tyler looked up from his book
only long enough to wave distractedly to Kim and then he was lost again. Kim
gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head and pointed down the hall to my
room.
“Did I miss something?” Kim
asked uneasily as I closed the door behind us.
“Loads, since you sleep like
the dead. And, in this house, that is really saying something,” I muttered,
rolling my eyes and plopping down on the bed. Not feeling up to going over it
just then, I decided to distract her. “What’s in the bags?”
“Since you had so much on
your plate already with Bastian, I took care of your Spirit Week costumes.”
Her smile was downright gleeful and I felt a knot of unease begin to form in my
stomach. At this rate, I was going to have an ulcer the size of the Grand
Canyon. “I know how much you hate playing dress up, so I figured if I didn’t
take matters into my own hands you would miss out on all the fun. Therefore,
voila! Costumes!”
Okay, for those of you who
go to schools where people are
normal
—are there any of those left? —Senior
Goof Week is pretty much a week-long costume party. It started out as a prank
by the football players back in the eighties. Back then,
only
the
seniors dressed up like a bunch of idiots. Over the years, it had grown to
include everyone from the freshmen up. There is a different theme for each day
of the week leading up to the Black and White Ball, though, and most of them
are devised to torment the creatively challenged. The student with the best
costume for that day gets a gift certificate and their picture in the yearbook
under the heading ‘Most Spirited’.
I could just imagine what
Kim had come up with. My eyes fell on the sparkly wings again and I actually
gulped. What kind of costume required sparkly, hot pink wings? Preparing
myself for the worst, I settled back and watched as Kim dove into the
overstuffed bags and emerged with four different costumes.
Monday: Hippie Day. The
costume really wasn’t that bad. It was just a flower and peace sign designed
baby doll tee, a pair of hip hugger bell bottoms Kim had rescued from her mom’s
old stuff in the attic along with a fringed leather jacket, a flowered belt and
a pair of soft leather moccasins. Add to that a daisy headband, dangly peace
sign earrings, and a pair of round, blue tinted glasses, and I was hippi-fied.
Tuesday: Roaring 20s. I
laughed for the first time all day as she pulled out a short white, fringed
flapper dress that would literally shimmy every time I took a step and a white
feathered headpiece. To finish off the display was a black feather boa and
black, patent leather, Mary Jane stacks.
Wednesday: Duct Tape Day.
Kim really went all out for that one. She had stolen a pair of my jeans—or
rescued them from the tons I had left at her house—and turned them into a
multicolored, multi-patterned disaster using patterned, colored, duct tape that
she had found God knows where. To go with it was a long sleeved stretch cotton
t-shirt that was decorated to match and even a purse and scrunchy made out of
duct tape. She had obviously had a ball with that particular project.
Thursday: Mythical Creature
Day. I groaned
loudly
when she pulled out the costume she fully
intended for me to wear—on pain of death, I was sure. She laid it all out on
the bed for me and stood back, looking very smug, indeed. The picture it made
was actually kind of creepy. It looked like a fairy had just disintegrated on
my bed and left her clothes behind.
I supposed it would, though,
considering that was exactly what Kim expected me to be.
Before me was a short, light
pink skirt, a matching corset top with hot pink laces, matching sleeves, and a
shiny pink headband. Add to that a pair of ballet slippers and a sparkly pink
wand and you get the picture. I groaned again when Kim, laughing now, reached
over and hit a tiny button on the hot pink fairy wings and they lit up and
started blinking.
“Did you forget that I have
red hair when you bought all that pink?” I asked, rolling my eyes. When she
just kept laughing, I tried again. “Kim, I am
not
wearing that.”
Finally, though, I started
laughing, too. Those wings were just too damned funny. That was how Nathan
found us a few minutes later, slouched against the headboard of the bed and
laughing so hard we were crying. He stopped in the doorway, looking confused
and a little worried, and then caught sight of the fairy costume on the bed and
the ridiculous blinking wings—and blinking wand, a fact that Kim had
demonstrated once I started laughing—and started laughing himself.
He wasn’t off the hook,
either. Kim had gotten costumes for him, too. For Hippie Day there was a
white shirt with billowy sleeves, a fringed leather vest, and a peace sign
necklace with the same tacky glasses she had brought for me.
“I used to have one just
like this,” Nathan said, fingering the fringe on the vest with a smile.
For the Roaring 20s she had
gotten him a full gangster ensemble with a black and white pinstriped suit with
a long jacket, black shirt, white tie and fedora hat.
“Ah, now that was a great
decade until the Depression ruined it,” Nathan said, his eyes lighting up.
She had also stolen some of
his clothes for Duct Tape Day and decorated them with silver and camouflage
duct tape.
“Okay, that’s interesting.
Fashion really is going downhill,” Nathan quipped, his lips turning up at the
corners in a sarcastic smile.
When she brought out his
costume for Mythical Creature Day, though, I started laughing again and
couldn’t stop.
“How nice,” Nathan said,
scowling, as she brought out a complete Count Dracula costume and laid it out
for him.
Seriously, I mean this thing
had it all. Burgundy vest, billowy white shirt with lots of lace and antique
silver buttons. And, of course, the red velvet-lined cape. It even had a
little chain and button closure with little bats on either end. Just the
mental image of him in that getup had me laughing so hard I was crying.
“I assume you own a pair of
tight black slacks and black boots,” Kim said, laughing just as hard as I was, tossing
him a pair of white gloves and a medallion on a red velvet ribbon.
“So cliché,” Nathan
grumbled, glaring at the costume and sending me and Kim both into new spasms of
laughter.
Giving his costume another
disgusted look, he came over and threw himself gracefully onto the bed next to
me and pulled me close. I snuggled against his chest and he leaned down to
drop a quick kiss on my lips before whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry. Forgive
me?”
“Don’t I always?” I
whispered back, breathing in the scent of his skin. “I kind of like you, cave
boy. Just let me get rid of the costume lady and I’ll show you just how much.”
“That sounds promising,” he
chuckled, holding me closer.
“You have no idea.” I
grinned, winking.
For just a little while, I
pretended we weren’t in mortal danger. I pretended Kim and I weren’t witches
and Nathan wasn’t a vampire. For that little breath of time, we were just
normal teenagers hanging out and doing normal things.
And then Grams ruined it.
“Ember, I’m going to
Amelia’s to get some of the things we need for the ritual,” she said, sticking
her head in the door and giving us an indulgent smile. A smile I couldn’t
return as reality crashed back in on me. “I won’t be long. Stay with Nate and
Kim until I get back.”
“Yeah, like I was going
somewhere,” I grumbled, avoiding Kim’s penetrating gaze.
I
really
didn’t want
to get into the drama of my past lives and what we had discovered right then.
Kim had fallen asleep before the shit had really hit the fan and Blake had
taken her home without telling her the good news about us not being able to
kill Bastian, saying he was going to leave that delightful little chore to me.