Ephemeral (The Countenance) (53 page)

A spotlight falls over Coop, bright as a halo, and my heart swells. This is all wrong. I can’t feel anything for him. I forbid myself from doing so.

The movie starts and drags on for miles. Each time Grayson makes a cameo, the theater erupts with whistles and howls. Her face stands out gargantuan and flawless even on such a magnified zoom.

Figures. You could enlarge Grayson to the size of the Empire State building, and men would still fall over themselves to have her. Maybe I should spend my energy rooting for her to win Coop’s heart. But the thought rises in the back of my throat like vomit. I’d rather
eat
vomit than root for Grayson and Coop as a couple.

I revert my attention to the movie and resist the urge to fall sleep. I’m no stranger to napping in theaters. Wes used to tease me and ask if I enjoyed my nap and popcorn.

The movie picks up speed. After a while,
Agent Zero
, a bald man with a fresh-shaven chest locks the door behind him, trapping her in his bedroom. In all fairness, it’s her fourth time on screen and she’s been relatively modest with the exception of the ever-present view of her cleavage. Then it happens. The camera pans in and her countenance lights up the room. She plucks her shirt over her head and yanks off her bra in one swift move—does a little dance as she wiggles free from its constraints.

I watch Coop as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Grayson leans into him with pride—so willing to evoke an erection out of him. It takes everything in me not to go over and smack her with her five-hundred-dollar purse.

Wes picks up my hand and bounces it on his lap.
God—bet she smothers Coop to death with those things. At least he’ll die happy.
 

The scene pulls out for an eternity. Grayson’s face contorts in all kinds of questionably artificial positions.

I excuse myself from my seat, citing an incompetent bladder. In reality I should have cited incompetent acting or incompetent boob job since clearly her left nipple was off center. It was a wandering eye for Pete’s freaking sake. It made me dizzy just watching. I’ll puke if I’m forced to expose myself to the juvenile pornography for one more Grayson minute.

The cool of the foyer washes over me, the sky outside has settled a rich shade of sapphire.

“Hey.” A deep voice resonates from behind.

Cooper.

He gleams with a devilish delight—tucks his chin a notch and walks methodically toward me.

“You’re missing the best part,” I say, backing into a darkened corridor.

“This is the best part.” It comes out low, husky.

Cooper relaxes his hand against the wall, pinning me in by proxy. I can feel the heat, the energy stream off him like an oven.

“You wanted to say something?” I can feel it coming. His eyes magnetize to mine as he comes in for the kill.

It’s strangulating like this with Coop. For the first time since I can remember, everything feels unimaginably real. I trace the outline of his lips with trembling fingers.

“This is never going to work,” I breathe the words erratic.

“Laken,” he whispers. So much soul and sadness trapped in those vocal cords. “I’ve never felt like this about anybody before.”

I take a breath and hold it.

“I know you have feelings for Wes.” He interlaces our fingers. “But that was old Wes. He’s not the same person. Believe me, Laken, he’s everything you’re fighting against.”

There’s a heartfelt sorrow exuding from him.

I try to break my gaze, but I can’t look away from the sincerity in Cooper’s eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He presses his finger over my lips light as a feather before kissing the tip and returning it to my mouth. “Just know, I’m going to help you through this. I promise, I’ll bring you home, Laken. And to do that—” He looks away briefly. His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he gives a hard swallow. “I think its best I don’t get in your way with Wes.”

My heart drops.

I thought Cooper Flanders was going to say he loves me, that he can’t live without me, and that we should head to the nearest bush and rut like animals.

I let out a sigh and press in a chaste kiss just shy of his lips that would make Jen proud—well, maybe not in this case, but still, I’ve met her stringent requirements.

“I love you, Laken.” His eyes widen just a notch as though the admission came out unsupervised.

“You love me?” My voice breaks as I say it. I love Cooper. I don’t know why, but I do. It’s different than with Wes. Loving Cooper is like swimming in oxygen, and loving Wes is like fighting to breathe while drowning in a sea of mud. With Wes, it’s like our lives are being played out on the big screen. All of his feelings run according to the script, but there’s something fabricated about them. No matter how much you love the characters in a film and want them to be real—they’re still actors.

It’s Cooper who has my heart in the most meaningful way.

His eyes widen as he brings my hand to his lips.

“Thank you.” It comes out sad. Cooper smiles with his eyes as if my mental admission was all he would ever have to hear. “I need you safe, and I don’t think you’d be safe with me. I think Wes is key to getting you home, even if he doesn’t realize it. I can’t get you into the inner circle, but he’s a card carrying member.” His brows depress. “God, Laken, I would rearrange the universe to make you mine, I swear it.”

I hold a breath a moment too long. Cooper pushing me into Wesley’s arms is simply a way to save me. I wonder if Wes would do the same to save my sanity—hand me over to someone willing to believe me. Somehow I find this doubtful.

“I care about you too, Coop.” The words sing from me like a eulogy. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

He shakes his head. “Let’s get you safe, get my mom and Casper home. We can figure the rest out later. If Wes is the one that makes you happy, then that’s what I want for you.” He drills a petition into me by way of those diamond eyes, denying the words from his lips. “But we have something special, Laken, and I’ll be damned if I’m going down without a fight.”

A slow spreading smile buds on my lips, and I can’t hide it.

“We’d better get back.” I tick my head toward Grayson’s overexposure.

He wraps an arm around my waist as we make our way down the long corridor. Everything feels right in the world with Cooper by my side.

“You know what I was thinking?” Coop picks up my hand and rubs the inside of my palm. “We should hit a bush later and rut like animals.”

“Cooper!” I swat him in the chest.

I really do love Coop.

The affect washes from his face. “I know,” he whispers, pulling me in. He presses in a careful kiss high up on my cheek and sets everything in me on fire.

53

Spooky Hollow

The next night, Flynn collects what little remains of his sister’s belongings and places it in a giant black trash bag—nothing but paperbacks and few stray purses since the wardrobe magician ensured her things disappeared, too.

“I’ve got a storage locker. I guess I’ll keep it there.” He schleps a load of books and beauty supplies to the side. “Anything you want?” He offers. “I mean you didn’t really get to know her, but she was pretty nice once you did.”

“Oddly, I feel like I knew her best,” I say, picking up the tattered teddy bear that Jen is kind enough to keep in front of her pillow. “How about this?” I hold it up by a partially severed paw. It’s seen some serious childhood mileage—obviously, one of her most treasured possessions.

“It’s yours.” He sinks a barrage of stuffed animals into the sack one slam-dunk after another.

“Do you know if she kept a journal?” She mentioned she took notes. I bet she had tons of leads on who might be running this hijack for hire ring of corpses.

“I don’t know.” Flynn sounds exasperated. “I hardly spent any time with her.” He swipes clean the jewelry from the top shelf of her desk and tosses it in the bag haphazard.

Jen barrels in and smacks Flynn on the shoulder. “Get out.” She fluffs her hair in the mirror then brushes her teeth with her finger. “The Autumn Sacrament is downstairs in ten. Why aren’t you dressed?” She swats her hand in my direction like she’s sweeping the floor.

“I’m very much clothed.” I pluck at my jeans.

“A dress, Laken,” she yells, disappearing into the closet.

Jen reemerges and tosses a navy blue frock at me that screams get me to a nun right this fucking minute.

I take my cloth-based punishment into the bathroom, and by the time I get out, Flynn has already taken off with his bag of Casper’s things. Death has its way of reducing you to paperbacks and teddy bears—prompting others to cast lots for your garments.

Jen swoops over and places a necklace on me. Thankfully the dress turned out to be much more formfitting than previously anticipated. I could easily get kicked out of any convent in the country wearing this short, tight, tribute to my svelte figure.  

“You’re going to outshine all those other girls tonight.” She steps back exposing a thin gold chain that blends into my flesh with a pendant the size of a nickel. A bright blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds floats proud on my chest.

“Thank you.” I finger it a moment. It’s a thing of beauty, a gift from my sister. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know we’re not always close, but I really do love you, Laken.” She wraps her arms around me and gives a light kiss against my cheek.

“You ever talk to Blaine?” I know full well Jen went out to dinner with the douchebag. I hate to pry, but I want to be there for her.

“Unfortunately, I did.” Her eyes narrow in on mine. “He’s not feeling so hot—stomach flu I think.” Her lips curl into a smile when she says it.

“Be careful, that spreads like wildfire,” I say.

“I’m pretty sure that wildfire is well-contained.”

Downstairs in the commons area, the lights are dimmed all the way down. We stand shoulder to shoulder, each holding a tapered candle with a wax circle near the base. It turns out Austen House has its own designer wardrobe. Long navy robes with oversized hoods that crest over the top of our heads.

I lean into Carter. “Someone alert the monastery, the monks are about to make a break for it.”

She gives a choo-choo train laugh that effectively blows out her candle.

“Here,” I offer, holding out my flame.

“Light my fire.” Her eyes light up a brilliant crimson. “Sort of what your brother did for me last night.”

“Eww! TMI, Carter—TMI.”

Kresley leads the procession out the door and into the ice-breathed air with Carter and I holding up the rear. Carter is like a sugared-up three-year-old, wiggling and giggling just begging for a verbal reprimand. Fallon with her perennial look of boredom shuffles alongside us.

“Laken
.
”

I straighten at the sound.

I recognize that haunted voice. It comes at me in duplicate, and I don’t need a poltergeist roadmap to let me know the Tobias sisters want in on the midnight ritual.

I look back at Fallon to see if she noticed anything. Her dark hair falls over her porcelain skin. Her bloated lips glow a bright fuchsia that commands my attention. Behind her a shadow darts behind Austen House as if ducking out of view.