Ephemeral (The Countenance) (27 page)

We fall into a sea of hot kisses. Kisses like embers that threaten to ignite the room into flames, burn down the legacy my supposed great, great grandfather tried so hard to build. Wes pushes me in by the back of the neck as if he couldn’t get deep enough inside of me if he tried. These were passionate, desperate kisses fueled from a hunger only a lengthy absence could supply you with.

The more foreign my life becomes, the more of an anchor Wes turns into. If only I could coil myself around him, secure myself beneath him—I wouldn’t float away in this nameless, faceless tide of people.

I slip my hands up his shirt and touch the hard waves of flesh as I crest over his abdomen. I want to lose myself in Wes tonight, all weekend, all year. I never want to open my eyes and face this alien world again.

“Crap.” Jen stomps into the room and plucks Wes off me. “Jones is in the hall. He wants to say good night.
Wes
, I don’t even want to look at you.” She storms back out like a furtive tornado.

“We’ll have to test the lock next time.” He shoots a sour look to the door.

“We’ll create a barricade that can hold off humans and monsters alike I promise.”

Wes looks apprehensive as if barricading himself with me might lead to things he’s not ready for.

The truth is I need Wes. I need for him to scrub Tucker Donovan off me in the most intimate way.

He takes in a breath.

I glance down at our conjoined hands and smile

Jones meets us in the hall, hugs both Jen and me simultaneously.

“I have loved you always,” he says looking right at me. “You both know that.” He kisses Jen first then me on the temple. It felt good to hear him say those words. I longed to hear them from a man who would be my father and something about Jones fits the bill.

He slaps Fletch and Wes on the shoulder and instructs them to get to bed, no video games.

“Jen,” he starts, “I trust you to police the floor. No watching horror movies ‘til six in the morning. I’ll see you kids once I get back from the airport.” He gives a knowing wink on his way downstairs.

Aside from the fact we’re essentially spending the night in a mausoleum, everything seems normal, not as normal as Cooper’s house or Cider Plains, but rather uneventful, not at all what I envisioned.

Back home, my mother drank her nights away with an endless glass of wine, and our house could easily fit into this one at least five hundred times. I bet if Lacey were here, she would dare me to sit on the railing and slide all the way downstairs. She would have dipped her feet in the fountain before anyone could stop her.

“Blaine’s coming early,” Jen snipes, “and I don’t want bags under my eyes.” She snatches me by the elbow and speeds me into my bedroom, presumably to snap on the chastity belt in private. “I like Wes,” she hisses, “but not for long if he keeps trying to take advantage of you.”

“And what if I’m trying to take advantage of him?”

“You’re an Anderson.” She rolls her eyes as though this were an impossibility, as though we never had the conversation concerning my expired v-card.

“What the hell was that gun you gave me?”

She studies my face with a soap opera worthy measure of drama. “I swear, Laken, it’s like you think I’m stupid. Do you really think you can go all
look shiny
on me and derail me from the conversation? Just keep your damn legs shut.” And with that, she stomps out of the room.

“Good night to you, too.”

I decide to give it a minute before heading back to hang out with Wes. God forbid Jen catch us sitting together on the couch. Who knows what cardinal rules of celibacy we might be breaking if we choose to hold hands.

A flash outside the window catches my attention. A quiver of light refracts from the pool. I press into the window and catch a pale flame dart across the yard—a girl in a white dress.

What the hell?

I speed out into the hall and follow the sound of howling laughter until I come upon Wes and Fletch in the heat of a foosball game in the family room.

“There’s a girl in the yard. She’s running,” I pant.

Fletch hops over the back of the couch and collapses with a sigh as if I had just said good night.

“I’ll check it out,” Wes offers. He bears into me as if he’s gauging whether or not this is just another symptom of my insanity.

“It’s Joy chasing Brighton,” Fletch murmurs with a throw pillow over his face.

“Her dog.” Wes ticks his head to the side. “I’ll check it out, anyway.”

He takes up my hand as we make our way downstairs. My heart picks up pace, as a new level of fear spears through me. I want to go home. I don’t like feeling afraid, even if I am with Wes.

“It’s okay.” Wes pulls me into him. “I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. Wesley offers more solace and comfort with his words—his person, than he can ever know.

The Anderson estate is void of any affection, each unblemished wall a blank canvas that acts as a testament to the sterile environment. Not one family picture lines the expansive hallways. This place feels more like a precinct than a home.

Downstairs, Wes pulls me through a heavily furnished room that sits adjoined to an oversized kitchen.  

He holds open a set of double French doors, and we step outside into the foggy night air with an unexpected calm.

It’s uncomfortably cold, serene. The blue river that bisects the yard gives the gentle slosh of water. It glosses the night like a beautiful woman adorned with expensive jewels.

A muffled cry comes from the forest that lines the south end of the property, and I see her again. The girl in the dress flickers against the edge of the woods like an ember. She disappears in and out of the fog in regular intervals like a poltergeist.

“You see her?” I’m afraid to move in fear she’s only alive in my imagination.

“I see her.” Wes pants as he backs me into the house. “She might be a Spectator. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

I watch as Wes darts down the stairs and disappears into the paper white night.

“Laken!” A girl’s voice cries from the edge of the woods.

I bump into the door in fright and scare the shit out of myself in the process. My hand claps over my chest as I squeak into the dark.

“Laken, help me!”

There she is—alone just shy of the forest’s border. The quarter moon graces her from above with its waxy crescent. She glows in the night like an alien being.

I recognize that short pixie hair.  

“Casper?”

I bolt outside and down the stairs.

She offers a gentle smile and takes a few melodic steps as if she were about to break out into song.

I speed over the lawn, feel the blast of cool air baptize my face and sear through my lungs as I race toward her. She steps back into the shadows just before I reach her, so I bolt into the thicket.

She’s gone.

The soft crunch of leaves gives way behind me, and I see her belle sleeves illuminate through the darkness. I lunge in and catch her by the elbow.

“Casper?” Dear God, it is her. “You’re not dead!”

She lowers her head with an eerie grimace. “I’m not dead.” Her voice dips to a demonic octave. “And I’m not Casper.”

27

Disappear

A horrible face.

A monster with a mouth the size of a lion. Eyes cast black like a reptile, and a narrow forked tongue. She morphs quick as a breath—pouncing on top of me with the weight of a battleship.

A harsh tingle vibrates through my bones. A lewd jolt of electrocution leaves me gasping for air as it seizes me. My entire body jostles. This must be how it feels just before you die. I’m certain of it because I’ve felt it once before, the day I flew through the windshield and sailed into a black abyss. That was the day I stared into the face of a beautiful being that shone from the inside like molten fire, but this was no heavenly creature, this was hell encapsulated in flesh and bones.

Gone is the forest.

I land hard against a cold white surface, complete with glossy floors and walls to match. A series of doors line the corridor up and down the halls.

“Wes?” I cry out. I don’t know why I would expect him to be here, be anywhere for that matter, since I was witness to his death and now perhaps two of my own.

Where the hell am I? It’s a building, a bunker. One minute I was out in the woods, and now I’m holed up in this white expanse of a prison.

I stagger down the narrow path, trying to catch my bearings, unable to right myself completely. The walls sway from side to side, and I’m not entirely sure, but I think the fact I just had my head bashed in has something to do with it.

The corridor elongates, a carpeted hall appears, and a blue glow emits from a room just ahead.

“You are a liar,” a female voice booms from the other side. Her words string out in an unnatural echo.

I pause, pressing my back against the wall, hoping to reappear in the twisted forest from where I came.

“I’ll have you know.” A male voice vibrates from inside. “I will pick my teeth clean with the entire band of your people. Your failures have created a mockery of this plane as an entity. You are a disgrace, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” His words end in a clattering growl, then silence.

His voice sounds familiar. I’m certain I’ve heard that odd drawl before but can’t place where or which lifetime.

A finger comes over my lips from behind. Despite all of my fear, a feeling of calm settles over me. A pleasurable ache that transcends any other sensation I’ve ever experienced trembles through my bones.

If you use your vocal cords in any way, there’s a very good chance you’ll lose them.
A voice enters my mind as audible as speaking.

I turn around to find Cooper in all his cutthroat splendor staring back at me.

Coop!
I throw my arms around him and press my face into the warmth of his neck.

My heart pummels against my chest.

What if it’s not really Cooper? What if I’ve lodged myself into some sort of brain infarction where people morph into monsters on a routine basis until I beg to die from the horror of it all?  

I shake my head disbelieving and begin to back away.

He takes a firm hold of my hand and reels me in, wraps his warm arms around me and presses out a humble smile.

It’s me, Laken—I swear. You were nice to my sister, and you seem to be under the misguided notion you’ll get me to love chocolate
. His eyes sparkle as though loving chocolate were both an improbability and a means of seducing me.

“Demons know everything,” I hiss taking back my wrist.

“You can’t hear me unless I touch you,” he whispers, interlacing our fingers ever so gently.
But it only works for you in this place
. A peaceful smile expands on his lips as he pulls us into a darkened alcove.
How did you get down here?

Casper appeared in the forest behind the Anderson estate. Only it must have been her unfriendly ghost because she morphed into some freaky beast with the face of a lion, and jumped me. Then—without reason, I landed here.

Trust me, you’re here for a very distinct reason
. He darts a quick look past my shoulder. 

What do you think it is?
I’m terrified. This is a psychological trauma that I’ll probably never recover from. Instead of worrying about short nail beds and split ends like normal girls, I’m going to agonize over Fems, zombies, and my uncanny inability to die. The next time a slightly deceased corpse tries to suck my brain out, I’ll gladly let him in exchange for directions to the afterlife—if indeed there is one. I’m beginning to think all those things they taught us in Sunday school were a ruse to divert us from the fact bad incarnations are all that really wait for us—scary ones at that.

I think maybe I’m the reason you’re here
. Cooper wears a sober expression as though he were trying to digest the idea himself. He lets his gaze fall to the floor as if examining it for answers.