Lost Seraphine (The Seraphine Trilogy #2) (19 page)

“Oh yeah? What was that?” I ask, spinning around to face her.

“Seers are complicated. She made me promise to keep quiet.”

“Still don’t trust I can take care of you.”

“That’s not a fair statement.”

I run a hand through my Mohawk, open my mouth real wide and prepare to insert an elephant-sized foot into it before I can stop myself. “You should’ve just let me die on the beach that day. You know why? Because then Kyle would never have gotten attacked by those creepy water baby things, my mom wouldn’t be worrying about my eighteenth birthday and Shani would still be alive.”

“You don’t mean to say these ugly things. You’re just angry,” she whispers, shaking her head as her eyes fill with tears. Something punches me hard in the gut, however it’s not enough to make me admit to what she’s saying right now.

“I need to be alone for a while.”

I turn away from her and the pain in her eyes, heading toward my Challenger. I get inside and drive away from New Bern, heading towards nowhere, until my emptying gas tank forces me to turn the car around and go home.

Caleb

The five days leading up to Shani’s memorial service are pure hell. Kyle’s over-the-top wit has disappeared and he talks about weapons all the time. He’s seriously obsessed. By the end of each day, I know the name of every single gun ever created. I feel like I could step up into any neighborhood and outwit anyone who wants a gang style showdown with me.

He has also cut all his hair off and now wears something like a buzz cut. This evening, as we sit inside Barkley’s Funeral Home and listen to our classmates taking turns to say his or her goodbye to Shani, I feel as though his mood along with the haircut seem completely appropriate.

I think all of New Bern’s citizens have come to the funeral. Not surprising. Shani was popular and she had a bright future planned out, the kind of girl who everybody wanted to get to know, a fantastic friend. Those memories are completely opposite of this place we’re sitting inside.

The interior design in here makes me think of a coffin; red velvet on the walls, the carpet, on the padding of the chairs. Old school wood paneling covers all the walls in the hallway and viewing room. Just like a vampire, I do believe funeral homes can drain the small part of life left in the attendees. I can think of a thousand ways I’d rather have said goodbye.

I’m sitting between my mom and Gia while Paige watches my back. Being sheltered by the girl who was hell bent on raping me a little under a year ago still feels weird beyond explanation, but I’ve learned to deal. Gia hasn’t touched my hand or any part of my body since we arrived. The strain of the argument we had the other day still drifts between us.

Shani’s parents are seated beside Kyle’s mom and dad. They’re sitting on the front row in the aisle across from us. I lean over, glance at my best friend and nod.

All good, K-9?
I mouth in his direction.

You know it
, he answers, but his eyes tell a different story, betraying his true feelings. I turn to Gia and she gives me a small smile. Even though I’m lucky to have her, I still feel guilty. Kyle’s pain starts today while my new life is only beginning.

A cool breeze flows through the room while we’re waiting. This strange fuzz enters my head, the same feeling I got the night of the storm. I have no doubt about who just walked through the doors.

Glancing back, I discover I’m right. Erica. She’s not alone, though. Walking along beside her, his arm linked with hers, is the person responsible for this mess. Thorne.

My blood boils. No, seriously, I can feel my body heating up, a vein pulsing somewhere inside my head. I don’t even think a glass of ice water could cool me down right now.

I grip the edge of my seat and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping Mom doesn’t notice me losing my temper. Those strange, whispery voices start doing their thing inside my head. Between the guilt I’m feeling over the loss of my childhood friend and the rage I’m trying to hold in, I can barely focus on the service.

“It’ll be all right,” Gia says, smiling and still not touching me.

As soon as the eulogy ends, I stand and take advantage of the crowd mingling inside the room. I spot Erica slinking her way toward the restrooms. Here’s my chance.

“I’ll be back,” I say to Gia, kissing her cheek before she has a chance to protest, making the first move as a peace offering to ease the tension between us. Moving toward the back of the home, I manage to confront Erica on her way to the bathroom.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

She gives me an innocent look. “Shani was a good person, Caleb. How would it look for me to miss her service?”

“Uh, like you were being real,” I answer. “You and Thorne set me up. You did something to make that tornado.”

“No. You did that. We only helped you tap into your power,” she explains. “I told you this already.”

Not what I wanted to hear. “Stay away from my family and friends. Do you hear me?” I warn, my voice filled with so much anger it even scares me just a tad.

“So you wanna play rough, Caleb?” she says, her gaze moving down to her arms. My hands are closed around her arms, getting tighter as we speak. I don’t recall seeing or feeling them move toward her. “Is that any way to treat your future wife?”

Could any question be more disgusting? “Keep dreaming. Maybe the head dark dude will help you out.”

“He already has,” she answers, beaming a smile that chills me to the core, her green eyes bright against her long black dress. “You can touch me anytime, in any way you like.” Lifting to her tiptoes, she crushes her lips to mine, lacing her fingers around my head, forcing me to open my mouth because the pressure hurts so damn much. Grabbing her wrists, I use every bit of strength inside me to try and pull away. I can’t.
What the freak?
She must be related to Hercules.

“Desperate little bitch!” I hear Gia’s voice say, causing Erica to break our kiss and turn toward her. Big mistake. Gia rears back and smacks Erica so hard she spins around a couple times before thudding against the red velvet covered wall across from where we’re standing.

“Try that again and you’ll get more than a little slap next time,” Gia warns, her body trembling as she speaks.

Still rubbing her cheek, Erica slings her hair over her shoulder and throws an icy glare at Gia and then she beams a smile and says, “Don’t tempt me. Roughness is my thing. I rather enjoy it.” She passes a lazy gaze back to me.

“You’re pathetic,” Gia snarls.

“And you’re delusional. Thinking you’re so much better than me,” Erica says, her voice rising. “We have more in common than you think, little high princess with her dark, dirty secret. Daddy’s girl who got tossed out the door. Hm. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Being linked to you is filthy enough,” Gia hisses. “We’ll break Bernael’s spell. Mabry will find a way.”

Erica throws her head back and laughs, an annoyingly forced sounding cackle. “A spell? Is that what you think, stupid girl? You didn’t tell her, did you, Caleb?”

Gia’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes questioning me. Anger stirs inside my gut. Not a good thing, as I’ve learned in the past few days. “This isn’t the place or time,” I announce, bringing the high-spirited girls back to reality, unable to deny how similar they look wearing short, black tennis dresses with shawls draped over the straps covering their shoulders.

“Curse or no curse, we’re not using Shani’s service as an excuse to pick fights. Got it?” I take Gia’s hand and link her arm with mine. “Gia, back to our seats. Erica, a good makeup job might help that bruiser.”

Erica’s hand moves up to her cheek. “You better hope it doesn’t leave a mark,” she says to Gia.

“I’m sure Thorne can kiss it and make everything all better,” Gia says in a mockingly sweet voice and smile. “Come on, Caleb. A making up moment’s overdue for us, I think.” She lifts up to her tiptoes and plants a deep kiss on my lips. My arms slip around her waist. I find myself caught up in the way my body’s calming down and flushing in places I can’t begin to put in words. The pain in my chest, my muscles and my head begins to ease up for the first time in days. Yeah, I’m weak. I couldn’t stay angry with Gia even if I tried.

Behind us, Erica scoffs and stalks off toward the main room. “Guess she didn’t like our sideshow,” Gia says, massaging my bruised face with her thumbs.

“Guess not.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For kissing me back. I’ve missed you. Remember what I said about your kisses, right?” I remind.

“Yes, but I thought… when I saw Erica all over you in that way, I snapped. I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“No one saw us,” I answer. “I do believe I’m the one who needs to apologize... again.”

“You already have,” she answers, a wicked gleam in her strangely colored eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Caleb. Not ever.”

“No worries. You won’t, okay? I am yours, Miss Jones. Heart. Body. Soul. With a rare Naruto book thrown on top for good measure.”

We both share a much needed laugh. “I’ll take all that and then some.”

“Good. Let’s go find Kyle. He thinks he caused our fight,” I explain.

“Okay. We’ll talk more later?” It’s more of a question than a suggestion and it’s something we both need to do. “No more secrets.”

“Agreed,” I answer. That’s how we’ll survive this thing, by trusting each other. Love. I admit it. I only wish I had a simple solution for Kyle’s pain.

Sure you do, my man. Monday morning, you finish what you started with Thorne.

Caleb

I don’t even give him a chance to get his books and I don’t give a shit that the other kids in the school’s hallway are staring at us right now. Instead, I slam Thorne up against his locker, not caring one bit about his rep as a badass. After the show I gave everybody last Friday night, I’m pretty sure both of us are riding high on the list of the insanely violent dudes who need to be avoided.

Mr. Misguided Champion here, that would be the guy who hasn’t suffered memory loss like my other classmates have done, has some explaining to do. I don’t intend to go through another day without hearing what he knows.

“What gives? You showing up at the funeral with Erica? Why are you working with them? Don’t even try acting like you don’t know what she is, either. And what the hell did you two do to my friend?” I fire out every question I’ve had over the past week since Shani died.

“Ease up, man; I can’t breathe,” Thorne says through raspy breaths. His face has turned a darker shade of red, contrasting against his golden locks and the light blue shirt he’s wearing today.

I let up off his windpipe, thinking of the way I KO’d my first opponent last week, the Adam’s Apple, a boy who was never found or accounted for after the tornado. It was like he was a pawn, another kid used by the Fallen, another test of whatever thing grows inside me, I’m sure.

Thorne knocks my hands away, straightens up and adjusts the collar on his polo. He gives me a nervous look as he glances around. It’s like he’s fighting a mental war inside his head. He moves closer to me and I fight the urge to take a step back. “Listen up, Wood. I know it was screwed up to make a fool out of you, but I didn’t think they would do what they did the other night. I didn’t think people would get hurt. I kinda wanted to get back at you for stealing Gia.”

“Excellent, my man. You made a deal with the devil’s kid to get even with me. I thought I was an idiot.”

“Keep your freakin’ voice down,” he says sharply. Fear swims in his eyes as his gaze darts around the hallway. “I’m not supposed to remember any of what I’m about to tell you. If they find out, then it’s curtains for me, too.”

“Who’s they?” I ask, anxious to finally be getting some answers.

“You know who I mean. Those weirdos with the milky skin and dark clothes. I’m in too deep. You gotta understand.”

“Actually, I don’t get it. Is this really about a girl, ‘cause, dude, that’s a lame excuse?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” he says through gritted teeth. I keep quiet. “I think your little friend is alive. They keep messing with my head, making me forget stuff, you know. So I gotta be quick with my explanation.”

“Shani’s alive?” I knew it. Felt it somehow. “Where is she?”

“They’ve been taking a lot of us kids to this—this dark place. I don’t have a clue about where it is. I do know it’s under a mountain. You take—”

“Wait. Hold up. A mountain, here in New Bern. On the coast. You sure they didn’t drug your ass? Maybe you were hallucinating.”

“Interrupt again and I’ll walk,” he threatens, his index finger trembling as he emphasizes his point. I hold my hands up in mock surrender.

“As I was saying, there’s a river. It leads to the mountain. Or at least that’s what it feels like when you glance up at the sky. It’s freaky.” A faraway look crosses his face. I can tell he’s visualizing what he’s just described. From the description he has given me, I suspect it’s somewhere very similar to where I ended up when I took a dive into the ocean a couple months ago.

“I don’t get it. Why are you telling me all this now? You could’ve said something earlier. Good people got hurt because of your pansy boy ego,” I remind him.

“You think I don’t know that? It’s not only about your girlfriend, Wood. They threatened my family. Said something would happen to my sister if I didn’t cooperate.” There is fear inside his voice, honesty in his pleading eyes. “He takes girls he likes. Uses them in some weird ass way, man. Even a wipe can’t take away the memories of the things I saw. People being turned into mindless things. No, man. Nightmares will find a way to drive you crazy.”

Man, do I know about bad dreams. “Right. What do you mean by people being turned? Is it a vampire thing? Zombies? What?”

“Don’t listen so well, do you?” he scoffs, glancing around and checking out the other students. “I can help you stop him. I know they got a mark on you, too. Erica told me.”

This little tidbit bothers me. I thought I was the only lucky dude walking around here with psycho angel’s brand on my neck.”And who is the ‘he’ that’s doing this?” I ask, ignoring his last statement.

“This isn’t a person. It’s a thing with black wings; a demon or something,” Thorne whispers furiously, grabbing my arms and shaking me. A wild look crosses his face. Releasing me, he lowers his head, shaking it. “It’s happening again. She’s screwing with my thoughts.”

“Then tell her to get the hell out of your head,” I suggest, not knowing what else to say, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for the tortured person standing in front of me.

I guess Erica enjoys hurting people she cares about. I can’t believe I argued with Gia about her. However I’ve always been the one to give people too much credit when they didn’t deserve any sympathy loans in the first place.

“I didn’t say anything... no... please. Don’t hurt me. I won’t do it. You can’t make me.” This is the conversation Thorne, the bad ass boxer, is having with himself. People in the hallway are starting to slow down and stare at us. As soon as I reach toward him, he slams his hands over his ears, his face crumpled as though he’s in pain. “Stop it! Don’t make me do this.”

At once, he shoves by me and takes off running toward the exit doors at the end of the hallway, slamming through them. “Thorne, wait!” I call out to deaf ears.
Crap! This cannot be good.

I take off behind him, rushing through the doors that lead to the front of the school grounds. I stop on the stairway for a moment, scanning the yard for Thorne. He’s already way ahead of me
and only a few yards away from the road that runs along the front of the school. No one runs that fast. No way. Erica must be doing something to push him.

He’s still holding his head and yelling for someone to leave him alone as he runs straight for the road out front, stopping in the middle right as a dump truck barrels toward him. Then, the idiot stands there, waiting.
What the freak?

For some crazy reason, I think of those old horror movies where people have dreams of their feet getting stuck in black crud, holding them in place while the bad guy comes for them. That’s what it seems like has happened to Thorne. I say this because he keeps glancing at his feet.

“What the freak? Get your ass out of the road!” I yell and take off running in his direction, unable to move with the same lightning fast speed as Thorne.

The truck’s tires screech as the driver slams on the brakes, his efforts coming too late. Metal collides with bone before I can even get close. Thorne’s body goes flying at least twenty feet through the air and then hits the pavement, rolling over several times before he stops moving. Screams explode behind me as I skid to stop and bend down over Thorne’s convulsing body.

“Hold on, man!” I say to the boy with blood spilling from his lips and ears, his eyes rolling back in his head. He grabs my wrist, his grip pretty darn good for someone in his condition. He’s more like a child now than a boxing champion.

“Sh—shirt. L—lift it up,” he says through spasms, his eyes focusing back on me for a brief moment. I lift his shirt and almost choke on my saliva. A tattoo similar to mine is etched into the skin just above his navel. That’s not what has me all tongue-tied, though. Right below his navel the word ‘traitor’ has been carved in medium sized letters, the angry welts still bleeding, a fresh wound.

“What happened out here?” I hear Principal Armstrong’s voice asking just before he walks over and bends down in front of me. I pull Thorne’s shirt back down, covering the wound. The principal cuts a narrow-eyed glance at me. I’m pretty sure he saw the wound. He leans over Thorne, feeling for his pulse. “Did you see what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” I lie, feeling dazed. “He ran out in front of the truck.”
And then stood there and waited for it to hit him
is what I don’t say.

“You’re lying,” Principal
Armstrong says to me, his dark blue eyes searching mine, analyzing them. There’s a familiarity in the way he’s looking at me, but under the current circumstances, I don’t put a lot of thought into it. I lower my gaze before he finds what he’s looking for in my eyes. From that little exchange alone, I can tell he’s an expert at reading people.

Sirens sound out in the distance. Somebody has already called an ambulance. The assistant principal scrambles to keep the students gathering around us under control.

Thorne has stopped moving, his chest is still and he has a serene expression on his face. I’ve never watched anyone die before. Yeah, sure, I read about death in Poe books. The man was obsessed with the subject, making it intriguing, but this is the real deal and it doesn’t feel mysterious at all.

“Caleb!” Gia’s voice calls out from behind me. I stand up and get assaulted by arms, the scent of lavender flowing around me. “I heard someone got hit by a truck.”

“Move back, kids,” Principal Armstrong orders everyone standing around us. He turns to me. “Not you, Caleb. I’m going to need a statement before you leave.” He pats me on the back, his sympathetic eyes passing a quick look at Gia before returning to the school nurse and Thorne.

I nod and turn my attention to Gia. “It’s time your house leader and I had a little talk.”

“I agree,” she says and studies my hands, trembling and covered in Thorne’s blood. “Let’s go take care of this first.”

* * *

We use the back door because Mom will kill me if I get dirt and blood on her crispy new furniture. The house is empty. I’m pretty sure it won’t stay that way for long after the news of what happened at the school reaches Mom and the yoga ladies’ ears. Nomatter. That gives me plenty of time to get the blood off m
e—
his blood, Thorne, the boy marked by weird tattoos like mine.

If somebody’s trying to freak me out
, then they’re doing one hell of a job, ‘cause I’m about as paranoid as it gets right about now.

“Are you all right?” Gia asks, her hand laced with mine. I’m not even close. I shake my head. I don’t trust my voice to sound normal at the moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I nod and allow her to lead me up the stairs. After asking me if I’m all right a few more times, Gia heads into the bathroom to start my shower. I get undressed, head toward the bathroom and attempt a weak smile as I walk past my girl standing in the bathroom’s doorway, not caring one bit that I’m in my boxers.

“It’s all ready. I’ll wait for you, um, out here.” She’s blushing and trying to hide it.

“I won’t be long,” I finally manage to say.

“Okay,” she answers without walking away, her gaze raking over my body, doing something inde
scribable to me. The devious part of me fires up.

“Unless... maybe you need to get cleaned up
, too,” I suggest, easing back toward her.

“I’m, um, okay. Well, maybe after you’re done.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask as I lean down and place a light kiss on her lips and then trace a path from her mouth down to her collarbone. I lightly blow kisses against her skin along the way, something that I know drives her wild.

She releases a shaky gasp and grips the longer part of my hair in back, forcing my
head up, a bit rough, but that’s cool, I got this. Crushing her lips against mine, she pulls my body up against hers with her free arm while yanking the crap out of my hair with the other hand. The mother of desperate kisses starts and the steam from my shower along with me getting heated and heavy while dressed in nothing but my boxers gives this moment a sexually charged, unearthly kind of appeal which is way past anything I’ve ever experienced.

Gia comes up for air first. “Caleb,” she says between our k
isses. I groan. Talking’s so not on my radar right now. “Caleb. Babe. We have to stop. Your parents.”

Yeah. The thought of dealing with Darren catching us fine tunes that radar real quick. I lean my arm on the wall behind her, lower my head and reel my fi
sh line in, making a mental note to turn the hot water down and the cool water all the way up.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to say.

“Don’t be.” She kisses me lightly, smiling, and then eases out from under my arm. “I’ll be in the room. Waiting.”

Groaning again,
I turn my attention to the cold water nozzle. Up until today, I don’t think there was ever a time that I recall showering to be such a lonesome thing to do. Yet, I manage.

While showering, I found a double-headed scroll, the exact same one I found on Thorne belly. If it isn’t enough to have someone’s blood on my hands, then how about throwing in a tattoo dedicated to the dead person that has mysteriously shown up above my navel as well.

The ink ride doesn’t stop there, either. Remember the two tats I had on the inside of my wrist
s—
that would be the ones where I said I didn’t mind having as long as they stayed inside the dream? Well, guess what? They’re on me, right now. And I’m not dreaming.