Evanescent (23 page)

“Okay, so you’ve got their attention.” I
scan the forest for movement. “What do you think is going to happen
when it comes time to cough up a resurrection or two? Pearl is dead
in case you forgot. She rotted right back to the core in less than
ten minutes of her second untimely demise. Speaking of which, I
need to get her out of the morgue.”

“What the hell for?” The whites of his eyes
expand as if I suggested we eat her for dinner.

“There’s no one to claim the body,
genius.”

“And stealing a corpse is going to help the
situation, how?”

A faint buzzing emits to our left—probably
birds—a hornet’s nest. Who the hell knows.

Flynn nods. “Every time I hear a noise out
here, it spooks me, too.”

The fog swirls around our feet. It fills
itself between the tree trunks and branches, washing out the
landscape in an oily haze.

A girl’s voice pitches through the dull hum
every now and again, then a distinctly male voice drones on with a
sense of urgency. It’s not Laken. I’d know her a mile away.

“I know who that is,” Flynn whispers as we
make our way as stealth as possible in their direction.

“Which one?”

“The female.”

Of course, it’s the female. Flynn’s got
sonar for every chick in the western hemisphere.

A rustle of leaves—the sound of footsteps
heading in this direction magnifies with the steady crush of pine
needles over the forest floor.

“Remember what I told you.” The male says it
stern, yet with the false air of tenderness. “This is a simple
assignment. If you keep up the good work, you might just get what
you’re after.”

“And if I don’t?” Her voice quivers. She
sounds frightened, haunted.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says it low, just
this side of a growl. “You know what happens if you don’t.”

The footsteps increase in sound and volume
right behind the overgrown hedge in front of us.

Shit.

A dark shadow emerges, as Flynn and I
exchange glances.

“What have we got here?” Mr. Edinger pulls
his lips in a smug line. He’s cloaked in a long wool coat that
hangs like a dress, and his feet stand at ease. “Are you two
looking for something? These woods are off limits to students as I
was just explaining to Ms. Tobias.”

Hattie appears from behind him, looking
embarrassed, not at all like her morbidly-dry self. Her posture
straightens as if leaping into character. She clears her
throat.

“Flynn, why don’t you escort Ms. Tobias back
to her dormitory,” he says, squeezing himself into a pair of black
leather gloves. “You’re lucky I happened to see you entering these
woods, young lady. It’s a maze out here. One could easily get
themselves killed.” He glances up at me when he says that last
part.

Flynn and Hattie make a beeline out of here
as if the forest were about to combust—not that it hasn’t happened
before.

I turn to follow them out.

“Mr. Flanders.” Edinger takes a step forward
with that perennial sarcastic smile hedging on his lips. “What was
it that you and Mr. Masterson were looking for?”

Daylight defuses behind him and gives the
illusion the evergreens are about to spear him with their daggers.
Edinger stands against the woods like a shadow as tall and wide as
a door.

“Who said we were looking for anything? Just
taking a late afternoon hike. Must have gone off the trail. Didn’t
even notice the trees sprouting up around us.” I say it slow and
measured as I gauge him.

“Temperatures will be dipping into the
thirties. Make sure you dress warm.” He expands his lips even
further until it looks as if he’s strained out a smile.

I doubt he kept me behind to talk about the
weather.

I turn to head back.

“Keep out of the woods, Mr. Flanders,” he
calls after me. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

There it is, the not so veiled threat I felt
coming on like a cold. I glance back. He hasn’t moved an inch. His
body looks as if he’s dissolving into the haze. Edinger steps
backward until the fog envelops him completely, nothing but his
wicked grin visible for me to see—and then that too vanishes like
smoke.

I speed over to where he was standing with
my heart trying to jam its way out of my throat.

He’s gone.

“So why is it that big of a deal that
Edinger popped out of existence?” Laken bites down on her lip, and
it springs back, luscious and full, ripe as a cherry.

The scent of fried tortilla chips fills the
air and suddenly a smell I thought I had grown immune to has the
power to intoxicate me. Maria’s Mexican Restaurant looks different
with Laken standing in it—more regal, less of the roach trap it
really is.

I glance over her shoulder at Grayson, who’s
growing increasingly impatient sitting by herself at the table.

I drove both Grayson and Laken down to
Maria’s for the so-called double date I let Wes rope me into. Wes
had a last minute emergency and said he’d meet up with us.

Laken sighs. “We knew he was Fem, remember?
That whole episode with him hacking off his head and chasing
me?”

“He played it off. He used your supposed
‘brain injury’ to make it look like you were going insane. But this
is different. I don’t have a brain injury, Laken—real or imagined.”
I rock on my feet a moment trying to figure it all out. “I don’t
know. I felt like it was some tip-off of things to come.”

“He must know you work for Wes—that you
dispose of Spectators. I don’t know why it’s a secret to begin
with.”

“Fems only come out if they have to.” I
shake my head. “He wanted me to know. There’s a reason—there always
is.”

Laken takes a breath before bolting back to
the table without a word.

I take it as a cue that Wes has arrived, so
I head into the kitchen a moment. Just because I’m off doesn’t mean
they wouldn’t appreciate the help. I snap up some chips and salsa
for us, and my phone buzzes in my jeans.

It’s a text from Flynn.

H me

H me
? Knew it. All the crap he’s
pumped into his system has finally dissolved his last living brain
cell. If his GPA continues to plummet, he’ll be off the team by
midterms.

I grab the food and head back to the
table.

Wes sits tall and proud next to Laken with
his jet-black wool coat that makes his shoulders look wide as a
refrigerator. His dark hair gleams in this low light like its
primed for some freaking shampoo commercial. Wes is a dick just
like Edinger. Only, unlike Edinger, I doubt Wesley is going to
disappear voluntarily. Nope I’m not that lucky. This is one asshole
that’s here to stay.

“Here we go,” I say, landing the food on the
table. Grayson sits square in the middle, so I have to cozy up
beside her, so I won’t fall off. Laken makes a face at my close
encounter with her nemesis. “So where were you at?” I knuckle bump
Wes from across the table.

“Water polo. Coach made us stay late. A
couple of the guys were goofing off, and everyone had to pay.”

“I know how that goes.” I grab a chip and
dig in while the three of them examine the menus.

“What do you recommend, Coop?” Grayson dips
the low cut V of her blouse onto the table, and her boobs expand to
the sides as if they just found a resting place. I can’t help but
think it looks as if she just offered herself up as a meal.

“Number sixteen is always good. You get
three different things and a side of rice and beans.”

“You really know your way around this
place.” Wes cuts me a sarcastic smile. “One day you might even work
your way up to head chef.” He pushes out a closed-mouth laugh.

I nod, trying to absorb the fact Wes just
openly mocked the shit out of me. One day Wes is going to be
running a major corporation, and I’ll probably be selling a number
sixteen to Grayson and her fiancé slash manager. I’d like to think
I’ll be the one with Laken, though.

“Wes,” Laken says it controlled yet
thoroughly pissed. “Coop won’t always be working here. He’ll have
to divide his time with all of the other restaurants he’ll own.”
She cuts him a look that says cross this line, and I’ll slit your
throat.

I try not to glance up at Laken, but our
eyes snap toward one another like a magnet, and I smile. I don’t
give a shit what Wes thinks about that.

I love you
, I want to tell her, but
keep my mouth shut for fear of having my teeth rearranged. Besides,
we need Wes. I glance at him as he silently fumes at Laken’s
rebuttal to his elitist sense of non-humor. Jackass. I like the
idea of Laken
using
him. I very much plan on rubbing it in
his face one day. Hopefully soon—like tomorrow.

“I think restaurants sound exciting.”
Grayson shrugs like she really doesn’t. “But I think you should own
clothing stores—designer labels only of course. You know,
Louboutin, Vera Wang, La Perla.”

Wesley gives a dull grin. “So you’re
thinking wedding bells, huh?” he teases. “The shoes, the gown, the
lingerie. You’ve got all the bases covered.”

“We should have a double wedding.” Grayson
drips with dark humor as she taunts Laken. “You know,” she glances
up at Wes. “You and Kresley, me and Coop. It’ll be like the old
days.”

Wes frowns, but doesn’t say a word.

“Oh!” Grayson claps her pink nails over her
mouth. “Was I not supposed to say anything? I mean Kres was telling
me all about how the two of you reconnected. It was after
homecoming, right? You were running around, looking for Laken and
couldn’t find her—then Kres stepped in.”

“Enough.” Wes grits it through his
teeth.

Laken and I exchange a quick glance. You can
see the hurt on her face, plain as day.

“What?” Grayson feigns surprise. “I could
have sworn Kres said you found her in your bed—or was it that Kres
ended up in your bed?” She fills her mouth with a chip and bites
down over it as if it were Wesley’s balls.

“Nobody ended up in my bed.” Wes gruffs it
out as if the topic isn’t up for debate. “Drop it.”

We put in our orders and hobble through
light conversation, avoiding the minefield that is Kresley and
homecoming. Laken has lost her shine. Her easy smiles traded in for
long eyes, the shadow of a frown hovers around her mouth.

Grayson excuses herself to use the restroom,
and, to my surprise, Laken follows.

“You hear anything else about that girl?
Pearl?” Wes crumples his napkin with marked aggression.

“Nothing.” I take a swig of my soda. “They
ever find her parents?”

Wes cuts me a dirty look as if it has the
power to set my balls on fire. “They’re not finding her parents,
Coop,” he hisses, leaning in. “She morphed into a fucking Spectator
in the event your blond ass hadn’t noticed.”

The muscles in my jaw distend because Paxton
or Parker or whoever the hell he is tonight, is really starting to
piss me off.

“Find a way to dump that body,” he snaps.
“The last thing we need is the coroner, turning this over to the
government.”

“Just what I was thinking. I’m on it.”

His dimples go off without a smile. “You and
I seem to be thinking about the same things lately—the same
people.”

“Are we back at this again?” I say, plucking
the straw from my cup and pouring the rest of my drink straight
down my throat. “I’m with Grayson,” I say, clamping the red tumbler
over the table. “Things are great. Sorry if she rocked the boat
with you and Laken, tonight. I’ll talk to her—make sure it doesn’t
happen again. If you want to bang both Kres and Laken”—I hold out
my hands—“that’s your business, dude.”

Wes lunges across the table and pulls me in
by the shirt with a snarl locked on his face. “You fucking pussy,”
he huffs it out low as if trying to avoid a scene. “I wasn’t with
Laken last night.
You
were.” He knocks me back as he lets
go. “I drove to your house, or didn’t your daddy tell you?”

“My dad?”

“That’s right.” Gone is the sarcastic ass
he’s been all night. Wes is pissed, plain as day, not one
undercurrent of defeat—never a good combination in a power-hungry
brat who’s used to getting every damn thing he wants.

“I couldn’t find Laken,” he continues. “She
wasn’t answering her phone, and neither were you.”

Shit. I saw his stupid missed call this
morning and blew it off.

“I drove to your house,” he insists as if he
wants me to admit to something. “Your dad was out front smoking a
cigarette.”

My gut bursts in a vat of hot bile. I knew
it was his truck.

“I asked where you were, and he said you had
a girl upstairs.” His brows rise, amused at the concept. “I drove
back to campus, and the only girl missing was Laken.” His chest
expands, and I can feel a fight coming on. “Kres helped me track
down Grayson, who, by the way, was off entertaining herself with a
dick not attached to your body—just like old times, huh?”