Before I Wake (9 page)

“You moved everything,” he said, making an obvious effort not
to slur the words.

“Yeah. I couldn’t… This is where I died. It was…” I swallowed
thickly and glanced at the floor. “I needed a change.”

He sat on my bed and Styx glanced at him in disinterest, then
went back to sleep. Nash stared at his hands while I hovered near the doorway,
uncomfortable in my own room. “I’ve been thinking about everything, trying to
make sense out of what happened, but I can’t do it. Everything was fine, and
then…” He looked up at me, frowning, like something horrible had just occurred
to him. “He gets to touch you now?”

“Everything wasn’t fine, Nash.”

He kept talking, like he hadn’t even heard me. “He gets to kiss
you, but I don’t? I don’t understand how we got here, Kaylee.”

“Nash—”

“I know the facts. I can sit here and list everything that
happened, every mistake either of us made, but when I do the math—I add it all
up over and over—it never works out like this in my head.”

“I know. The longer I think about any of it, the less sense it
makes, and I’m sorry about that.” I’d lost count of how many times I’d
apologized. “I don’t like how we got here, but this is where we’re supposed to
be.” I sat in my desk chair and rolled it closer to the bed. “We’re supposed to
be friends, Nash. Can’t you feel that? We were too close for too long to be
anything less, but we can’t be anything more. Not anymore.”

“Because of Tod.”

“No.” I shook my head, desperately hoping he’d understand what
I was trying to say. “Because of me. Because of you. Because we tried to make it
work, but we couldn’t. We tried so hard we nearly destroyed each other, and
that’s not what love is supposed to do, Nash. It’s supposed to lift you up and
make you feel whole, even if it hurts sometimes.”

Nash exhaled slowly, still staring at his hands, then he looked
up and met my gaze, and the vulnerability swirling within his nearly killed me.
Again. “Tod makes you feel like that? Whole?”

I nodded. “More whole than I’ve felt since…ever.” At least
since my mother died and my father left.

Nash’s forehead furrowed and his jaw clenched, like he was
holding back words he knew better than to say. Then he met my gaze, and I could
see the raw pain in his, unshielded, thanks to the whiskey. “I’m sorry I
couldn’t be that for you, Kaylee. I really wanted to. I wanted to be good enough
for you. I wanted to deserve you, and in a way, it was easier after you and he…”
His jaw clenched again, then the words tumbled out in an emotionally charged,
drunk free fall, and his gaze begged me to understand. “After I saw you with him
in the hall. Because you’d messed up, and I thought that if you weren’t perfect,
you could understand why I wasn’t, either, and we could fix things. But that was
when I thought it was just one kiss, and—”

Nash stopped and glanced at the floor, and when he looked up at
me, there were tears standing in his eyes. “If I hadn’t been high that day in
the parking lot—if I hadn’t started using again—would this have turned out
differently? Would you have given us another chance?”

My own tears answered his, and I rolled my chair closer to the
bed. “No, Nash. Please don’t ever think that. As bad as that afternoon was, you
and I had already broken up, and Tod and I were already together.” I sucked in a
deep breath, then said the only thing I could think of that might help him
understand. “He died for me, Nash. He refused to reap my soul, so Levi had to
take his.” An unemployed reaper was a dead reaper. “That’s the way it goes.”

Nash’s eyes widened, and he frowned. “Then how is he—”

“I had to bargain for his afterlife.”

“And for my release…?”

“Yeah.” I leaned back in my chair and relaxed a little. “I owed
you at least that much, and I’m sorry that Madeline has no pull in the court of
public opinion.”

Nash huffed, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“Yeah, me, too.”

“You know, if you didn’t openly hate me—if we hung out like we
used to—the rumors that you stabbed me would die pretty damn quickly. I’d never
hang out with my attempted murderer.”

He thought about that for a moment, and when his eyes closed, I
thought he’d fallen asleep sitting up, until they opened again. “I could do
that. We could try the friendship thing, if that’s the best I’m gonna get. But I
can’t hang out with him.”

“Nash—”

“Kaylee, he’s my brother, and he stabbed me in the back. I know
you’re an only child, so you can’t really understand, but I can’t… I can’t see
the two of you together. Not yet.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “I guess that’s fair. But I think you should
talk to him, even if I’m not there. You don’t understand how much he loves
you.”

“And stealing my girlfriend was supposed to show me that?”

“He didn’t steal me, Nash.” And frankly, I was getting tired of
being talked about like a car or a piece of jewelry with no free will of its
own. Like I’d had no choice in the matter. “I made a decision. I’m sorry about
the way it happened, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

His eyes closed again. His next words were slurred with both
alcohol and sleep, and I wondered if he’d even heard what I’d said. “Can I stay?
It’s raining… .” He laid down on his side without waiting for my answer, and
Styx scooted closer to him for warmth.

I sighed. Then I unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed
and pulled it up to Nash’s shoulders, and his eyes popped open. He grabbed my
arm and his gaze gained coherent focus, just for a second. “I saw Scott
tonight,” he said, and shock raced through every nerve ending remaining in my
undead body.

“What? When did you see him?” But Nash’s eyes were closed.
“Where did you see Scott?” I shook his shoulder, but he was out cold. “Nash!” I
shook him again, and his eyes opened, but didn’t truly focus on me. “Where did
you see Scott?”

“Out…side…” Then he closed his eyes and started snoring.

* * *

“Outside?” Tod said, before I’d even realized he’d
arrived. “Outside where?”

“I don’t know. Here? His house? Somewhere between?” I pulled
two sodas from the fridge and kicked the door shut. “He walked all the way here,
so he could have seen Scott anywhere. Assuming he really saw him at all.” I
shrugged and handed him one of the cans. “I mean, he’s drunk. Who knows what he
really saw?”

“It was Scott.” Tod accepted the can I gave him and popped the
top. “I stopped by the hospital on my way here to check, and his room’s empty. I
guess that’s why his stuff was half packed when we were there earlier.”

“So, what, they let him out? Can they do that?”

“I don’t know.” Tod gave me an apologetic shrug. “You’re kind
of the resident expert.”

“Don’t remind me.” But I couldn’t argue. “I got out when Uncle
Brendon Influenced my doctor into signing the papers. But I wasn’t hearing
voices and cowering from every shadow. I can’t imagine any doctor worth the
paper his degree’s printed on letting someone like Scott out of the
hospital.”

Before Tod could reply, something tapped the front door three
times, and I crossed the room to peer through the peephole. “What the hell is he
doing here?” Sabine demanded as soon as I pulled the door open. She pushed past
me into the living room in a pair of jeans and a snug black tank top, without
bothering to wipe her bare feet on the mat.

“The usual,” Tod said. “Self-destructing in slow motion.”

I shot a frown at him. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said
to Sabine, staring out into the dark after her, just in case. But I found
nothing out of place except for her car, which was parked on the wrong side of
the street, in front of the neighbor’s mailbox.

“My guess is probably better.” She dropped her keys on the
coffee table and headed for the hall, ignoring Tod when he called after her.

“He passed out, Sabine. You may as well let him sleep it
off.”

“So, what?” I said when she’d disappeared around the corner.
“They let Scott out—for no reason I can think of—and he heads straight for
Nash’s house?”

“Or for yours,” Tod said. “We don’t know where Nash saw
him.”

“Do you think he’s still possessed?”

“How much did he drink? He’s out cold,” Sabine said, rounding
the corner into the living room again to eyeball the half-empty bottle of
whiskey. “Who’s possessed?”

“It’s a long story.” I sank onto the couch next to Tod and
folded my legs beneath me.

Sabine shrugged. “It’s not like anyone here’s missing out on
sleep.”
Maras
only needed around four hours a night,
and Sabine had already gotten nearly that much before I called and woke her
up.

“Okay, but hold it down.” We were trying not to wake my father
up, and I couldn’t mute her voice—much to my own frustration. “There’s this guy
named Scott who used to go to our school—”

“Scott Carter?” Sabine interrupted. “The frost junkie?” When I
could only stare at her in surprise, she rolled her eyes. “Nash’s my best
friend, Kaylee. We talk.”

Good to know. I’d assumed they’d skipped straight to body
language.

“How much do you know?” Tod asked.

“Nash and two friends got hooked on frost—breath from Avari,
the hellion I met in the cafeteria.” The time she’d tried to sell me out so she
could have Nash to herself. “Doug died, Scott went insane, and because Nash
isn’t human, he got off with withdrawal and total abandonment from the one
person who should have been there for him, no matter what.”

“I didn’t… That’s not…” I gave up trying to explain that I
hadn’t
abandoned
Nash, and that frost wasn’t what
broke us up. “What matters now is that Scott’s out, and Nash says he saw him
tonight.”

“Okay, why are the two of you talking about a visit from an old
friend like that’s worse than Nash being passed out in her bed. Which we’re
going to discuss later, by the way.” Her dark-eyed glare narrowed on me. “You
could have at least given him a shirt, Kaylee.”

“Like you’re an expert on when it’s appropriate to wear a
shirt,” I snapped, thinking of the time she’d pulled hers off and jumped Nash,
with me in the next room, and Sabine bristled.

“This seems headed into girl-fight territory,” Tod said.
“Should I make popcorn?”

I elbowed him in the ribs and glared at the
mara.
“The point is that Scott shouldn’t be out of the
hospital. He wasn’t just a little unbalanced, Sabine. He suffered permanent
brain damage from the frost, and Avari sent him enough visual and auditory
hallucinations to make sure there was no doubt about his mental
instability.”

“So, how’d he get out?”

“We’re not sure,” I admitted. “But he was half packed when we
saw him tonight, so it looks like he was actually released.”

Sabine frowned. “You saw Scott tonight?”

“Sort of. We went to see if he’d ask Avari some questions for
us, but when we got there, he was possessed, so we wound up dealing with Avari
directly.”

“Well, then, it sounds like you’ve answered your own
question.”

Tod glanced at me in question. “Is it just me, or is she making
even less sense than usual?”

Sabine rolled her eyes again. “You knew he was possessed
because he wasn’t acting like himself, right?” she said, and we both nodded. “So
couldn’t he have been possessed long enough to convince the doctors that he’s
all cured off the crazy?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, and I was pleased to see that Tod
looked no more convinced.

“He was bat shit when we saw him a couple of months ago,” he
said.

“Yeah, but for all you know, Avari could have been playing all
sane and healthy during his doctors’ appointments for a while, right?” Sabine
said.

I was far from convinced, but I didn’t have any better
explanation. “Either way, if Nash saw Scott tonight, chances are good that what
he really saw was Avari, wearing a Scott-suit. And if he went after Nash, he
could go after anyone else. We need to stick together when we’re not at home.
Pairs, at the very least,” I said.

“I call Nash,” Sabine said, glaring at me, and I rolled my
eyes.

“I don’t want your boyfriend. Not like that.” And assuming he
remembered anything we’d said before he passed out, Nash and I may have just
made major strides toward an actual, healthy friendship.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sabine said, and the thin thread of
pain in her voice drew my focus her way.

“But I thought… He said…”

Sabine turned to Tod. “How long does she have to be dead before
the naivety wears off?” Before he could answer, she turned back to me. “Only a
virgin thinks sex means that much, Kaylee,” she said, and Tod’s hand tightened
around mine before I could argue with her. She was lying. Sex with Nash meant
something to her, even if she wouldn’t admit it, but Tod didn’t want me to call
her on it.

Sabine had never lied to me before. Not even when she was
trying to break up me and Nash.

She heaved a bitter sigh and scrubbed both hands over her face.
“He’s sleeping with me, but look where he winds up the minute I fall asleep.”
Her open-armed gesture took in my entire house.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted. “He probably came
here on autopilot. Out of habit.”

“No, Kaylee,” she said as I clung to Tod’s hand, feeling
awkward and helpless in the face of her obvious angst. “You’re his choice. I’m
the habit.”

6

TOD HAD TO
head back to work, but Sabine wanted to stay the night with Nash, and I
let her, adhering to the whole “strength in numbers” philosophy. Alone, she’d
make a much better target for Avari, and I couldn’t risk letting her be either
possessed, if Cujo—her Netherworld guard dog—fell down on the job, or was hurt,
if he warned her and she fought.

I checked on Em and Sophie both twice during the night, and
every time I got back to my room, Sabine was just sitting in my desk chair,
watching Nash sleep. Not in the creepy way. In the worried way.

“He’s going to be okay,” I said, perching on the edge of my
desk to watch him with her. I tried to say it like I meant it, but the truth was
that I held no authority on the subject of Nash.

Or the subject of being okay.

“He wanted to go visit Scott, you know,” Sabine said, like we
were in the middle of a conversation I couldn’t remember starting. “I told him I
didn’t think that was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what he needed to hear. He wanted to go see
Scott because Scott is a piece of his life from back when his life made sense.
He wanted to recapture some of that, and he wanted to apologize for being part
of what put Scott in the psych ward. But he was scared that the Scott he knew
wouldn’t be in there anymore, and if that was true, there’d be nothing left of
his life from before. His best friends are either dead or insane, and the rest
of them avoid him at school because they don’t know how to talk to him anymore.
And half of them think he tried to kill you. But…”

Sabine looked up at me, and her dark eyes only hinted at the
raw pain her voice laid bare. “But beyond all that, Nash was terrified that
being that close to Avari would be too much for him. That he wouldn’t be able to
resist the temptation, so close to the source.” She shrugged. “So I told him he
shouldn’t go. Not that it mattered. A couple of weeks later, you made out with
his brother, and sent him right over the deep end again.”

“Neither of us meant for any of that to happen,” I said. On the
list of conversations I never wanted to have with Sabine, this one was right at
the top. “And anyway, you got what you wanted, right?”

Her dark eyes narrowed as she tossed a one-armed gesture at
Nash, still passed out on my bed. “Does this
look
like what I wanted?”

“He’s having a rough month. We all are.”

“A rough month? Kaylee, I spent years trying to find him, and
when I finally did, you were standing in my place. So I backed off and let your
blatantly ill-fated relationship run its course—”

“You didn’t back off, you tried to kill me!” I interjected.

“Well, I had to
try,
didn’t I?” she
demanded, and I couldn’t decide which fallacy in that sentence to address first,
so I saved my breath. “But even with me there, waiting almost patiently, doing
all the best-friend stuff because I love him, he’s moping over the friends he’s
lost instead of seeing what he’s gained. And now you’re finally out of the
picture—or so I thought—and look where he winds up.” She glanced at Nash again,
and I flinched, though I’d played no part in his drunken late-night walk.
“That’s probably the longest he’s ever even been in your bed.”

“It is.”

“What does that mean, Kaylee? Why would he rather be alone in
your bed than with me in his?”

Well, damn. Sad Sabine was no easier to deal with than angry
Sabine. The last time she’d been distraught over Nash, she’d hijacked both me
and my car and tried to make me fix what she’d messed up.

“Okay, look. He didn’t come here to climb into my bed, Sabine.
He came here because he wanted answers, and it’s obviously a lot easier to ask
for them when he’s drunk. You’re just going to have to give him some time. He’s
lost right now, but he’s strong, and he
will
bounce
back from this. And when he does, he’s going to realize that you were there the
whole time.”

“You really believe that?”

I’d never seen her so vulnerable. “Yeah. I do.” She really
loved him. That had to mean something, and when Nash was thinking straight, he
had
to see that.

Sabine glanced at her hands in her lap, like whatever she had
to say next required a little bit of a lead-in. Then she met my gaze again.
“Thank you.” Sabine blinked, and the vulnerability I’d glimpsed was gone. “Now,
could we maybe pretend this whole bonding exercise never happened?”

I laughed. “I’d like nothing better.”

* * *

I started cooking around six-thirty in the morning, my
hair still dripping from the shower. I’d never made anything more complicated
than microwave pancakes, but with time on my hands, a house full of guests, and
a father obsessed with the concept of the “family meal,” I thought I’d give it a
go.

I microwaved a pound of bacon six strips at a time—turns out
the key is good drainage—and made pancakes from a jug of mix-and-pour batter I
found in the cabinet. It was only three days past its use-by date, so I figured
the chances of it making anyone sick were slim.

The first three pancakes were amorphous blobs—I swear, one
looked just like a storm trooper—but by the fourth, I’d figured out how to flip
them without making a huge mess.

Nash shuffled into the kitchen as I was putting down a saucer
of raw venison for Styx, and she glanced away from her breakfast just long
enough to aim a yippy hello his way. She’d always liked Nash, but she still
wasn’t comfortable with Tod, probably because he was dead. At first, I’d worried
that she wouldn’t like me after my own death, but apparently our initial bonding
transcended the questionable state of my existence.

“Hey,” I said as Nash bent to scratch the back of Styx’s neck.
“I made coffee if you want some.”

“Thanks.” He sat in a chair at the table—the same chair that
had always been “his” when we were together—and accepted the mug I set in front
of him.

“Where’s Sabine?”

“In the shower.” Nash scrubbed his face with both hands.
“Kaylee, I’m so sorry for…whatever I said or did last night.”

“You don’t remember?” I poured coffee for myself and scooped
sugar into the mug.

“I remember parts of it,” he said, and I wanted to ask which
parts those were, but a rehash seemed like a really bad idea.

“You said you saw Scott. Do you remember that?”

Nash’s eyes widened in surprise, then lost focus as he nodded,
clearly trying to remember. “I thought I was dreaming at the time, but I wasn’t.
I really saw him. Outside, on the street.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. Somewhere between my house and
yours.”

“Did he say anything?”

Nash shook his head slowly. “He just looked at me for a minute,
then turned around and walked off.”

“But you’re sure it was him?”

“Yeah.”

I sat in the chair next to Nash and sipped from my mug, trying
to decide how best to say what needed to be said. “Tod and I saw him last night,
too. Earlier. In the hospital. He was possessed, Nash. Which means you probably
saw Avari.”

Nash frowned. “How do you know? Did he sound like Avari?”

“No, the voice sounded like Scott, but the words sounded like
Avari.” Normally when a hellion possesses a human, the hellion retains his own
voice. But… “He’s spent the past few months in Scott’s head, so it’s entirely
possible he learned how to work Scott’s vocal chords, just like he did with
Alec. When he was possessing Alec, I couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Hey. Your turn in the shower,” Sabine said, padding into the
kitchen in my robe.

“Thanks.” Nash stood and glanced from her to me, then back,
like he wasn’t sure what to say with us both listening. Then he made a break for
the bathroom while Sabine snagged a piece of bacon from the platter.

“Hi,” Sabine said, still chewing as she lifted the card from a
vase of wilting mixed blooms on the counter. “The school sent you flowers. I’m
sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic,
soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.”

I could only blink at her while she chewed.

With the pancakes warming on a pan in the oven and the last
batch of bacon in the microwave, I knocked on my father’s bedroom door. “Yeah,
Kay, come on in.”

I pushed open the door to find him sitting on the edge of his
bed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, squinting at the alarm clock on his
bedside table. “Guess what? I made breakfast.”

“You made…?” But before he could finish that thought, our
ancient water heater groaned to life and the sound of running water erupted from
down the hall. My dad’s eyes widened as he glanced at the closed bathroom door
over my shoulder. “Who’s in the shower?”

“Nash. We kind of…had an impromptu sleepover.”

“You and Nash?” My dad was out of bed in an instant, reaching
for the robe tossed over his footboard.

“No! Well, yes. But Sabine stayed the night, too.”

“That doesn’t sound much better, Kay… .”

“Hang on, Pa, don’t reach for yer shotgun just yet,” I said,
grinning over the protective streak I found funny, when there wasn’t actually
anything to shelter me from. “We were just circlin’ the wagons, not having an
orgy.”

My dad suddenly looked like he might be sick. “Please don’t
ever
say that word again.”

“Wagons?” I teased, and he actually cracked a smile.

“Yes, you’re much too young to be using Wild West analogies.”
He tied his robe and ran one hand through hair that showed no sign of thinning,
well into his one hundred and thirty-second year. “So what happened? Why are we
circling the proverbial wagons?”

I sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to me
until he sat again. “Scott’s out of the hospital. Nash saw him last night, and
we’re pretty sure that means he actually saw Avari.”

“Nash came here because he saw Avari?”

“Actually, he was on his way here when he saw Avari. But he
thought it was Scott, and he doesn’t remember much of it this morning.”

My dad’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because he was drunk.”

“Nash came to see you drunk?” My dad exhaled and rubbed his
forehead. “Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned drunk dial?”

“I believe that’s now the drunk text, but I think Nash wanted
answers in person.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight: the reaper who killed my
wife and tried to kill my daughter has come back from the dead and is following
orders from the hellion obsessed with owning my daughter’s soul, and now
possesses the body of an escaped mental patient who also tried to kill you. Did
I get that right?”

“We think Scott was officially released, but other than that,
sounds about right.” Why is it that my life can never be summarized in a
sentence with fewer than three clauses?

“And you didn’t wake me up because…?”

“Because there’s nothing you could have done.”

My dad scowled. “Kaylee, next time, wake me up.”

“We’re kind of hoping there won’t be a next time.”

Footsteps echoed behind me, and we both turned to see Sabine
step out of my room, still wearing my robe. “Hey, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said on
her way to the front of the house.

“You know this can’t be an everyday thing, right, Kaylee?” my
dad whispered when she was gone.

“I think it’s safe to say none of us wants that. But on the
bright side, I made bacon.”

* * *

Breakfast was a whole new kind of awkward, with me
sandwiched at the table by my irritated father and my hungover ex-boyfriend, who
still wore my dad’s shorts. Sabine seemed oblivious to the unspoken tension—her
attention was occupied by a stack of pancakes and a pile of bacon.

After we ate, as I was digging through the hall closet for
spare toothbrushes, I heard my father and Nash talking in the kitchen. Alone.
The urge to go incorporeal so I could sneak closer and listen was almost too
much to resist. In the end, the only thing that stopped me was the fact that I’d
spied on Nash once before, with Tod’s help, then promised never to do it
again.

Instead, I went really still and listened closely, and in
retrospect, I was glad I couldn’t see either of them.

“Do you have any idea how inappropriate your behavior was last
night?” my father demanded in a deep, growly voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t. I know you’ve had a rough time these past few
months, and I know that not all of it was your fault. But everyone has it rough
sometimes, Nash. What defines us isn’t the strikes life throws at us, but how we
bear them. I’ve made my share of mistakes, so it may look like I’m throwing
stones from inside a glass house, but my job as a parent is to hurl those stones
at
anyone
who puts my daughter in danger. Do you
understand that?”

“Yes. Of course.” Nash sounded sick and miserable.

“If I ever catch you drinking or not thinking around Kaylee
again, you’re going to wish they’d never let you out of that jail cell. Are we
all clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I couldn’t decide whether I was more embarrassed for me or for
Nash, but in the end, I considered us both lucky my dad hadn’t banned him from
the house. Or called his mom.

Sabine had a change of clothes in her car—I was starting to
wonder how often she was staying at Nash’s and whether or not Harmony knew about
the sleepovers—but we had to stop by his house so Nash could change.

In spite of the predawn drama and an awkward start to the day,
Tuesday morning was better than the day before. I rode to school with Nash and
Sabine to avoid facing the reporters alone, and I was relieved to see that, this
time, there were only two, each with a single cameraman. Sabine said they might
leave me alone if I gave them a couple of seconds of usable footage to run with
the headline Teenage Stab Victim Returns to School! so I let them film me
climbing the front steps of the building.