Evanescent (19 page)

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.