The Evil Within (22 page)

I knew that quiet was good. I picked up my glass of champagne and took a deep swallow.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He hunched a little, sighed. “I don’t blame you. I’ve been such a wuss . . . ”

I swallowed more champagne. A lot more. I knew I had to let him dangle. He had to be sure.

“I need to use the ladies,” I said after a few seconds of silence.

Troy pointed to the left. “I think it’s down that corridor.”

I wondered how he knew, but I didn’t really care.

“I won,” I murmured aloud, as I tottered down the hallway and came to a black door with a white
W
on it. “I won,” I said to myself again, giggling. I had had way too much to drink, I suddenly realized. And tonight was the night. “I won, I won, I won.”

I opened the door and stepped onto black marble, very slippery. I reached for the dish-shaped black marble sink and held on with both hands; then I stared into the huge oval mirror that reached to the black marble ceiling mirror.

And I saw her. Her mouth was moving and for the first time ever, since I had seen her, I saw her eyes, taking on definition and color—they were chocolate brown.

My color.

It was as if they were rising to the surface of her skull from somewhere very far away; and it was one of the most terrifying things I had ever seen. My stomach tightened and I gripped the sink edge so tightly my fingers ached.

She stared straight at me. Then a single tear trickled down her bone-white face, dripping from the mirror onto the sink. It was a real tear. I stared at it, disbelieving, and backed away.

“
Listen to me. Don’t trust him
,” she said. I heard her voice echoing on the hard surfaces—the marble, the ceramic, the mirror. “
He’s part of it.
”

“What the hell?” I said. “He’s not, Celia.”

“
You don’t know. You can’t know what it’s like
,” she said, “
but you have to trust me. The web’s being woven around you, and you can’t see it. But they’re going to ki—
”

“No, you’re wrong. They’re
not
,” I insisted. Then I corrected myself. “
He’s
not.” I looked away from the mirror, but I could feel her staring at me. I sensed her moving around me, like a ghost about to materialize. I turned in a circle on Marica’s stilettos, a little tipsy. My wits were not about me.

“He’s been
helping
me. And not all men are like David Abernathy,” I said.

“
How dare you!
” she shrieked. The hammered-bronze doors to the stalls rattled. The huge oval mirror over the sink made a cracking sound. Backing away, I stared fearfully up at it, afraid it would detach from the wall and crash on top of me.

“
How dare you! How dare you! I’ve done everything to keep you alive—
”

“No,” I cried. “You’ve done everything to exact your revenge.” I kept staggering backward, hugging myself. “I know it looks like your triangle with Belle and the doctor. I understand that. But he’s not like that.”

“
I thought David was true
.”

“He was performing lobotomies on helpless girls!” I cried. “And you knew that! Did you conveniently forget that when he kissed you?”

“
He thought he was helping them. He
did
. And then he saw the horrors he was inflicting, and he wanted to stop. He was going to stop.
”

She’d been gullible. Unbelievably naive. But
I
wasn’t. And Troy wasn’t hurting people for a living.

“Go away.
Please
,” I begged her.

Just then, the door opened, and a woman in a teal wrap-around dress came into the bathroom. I jerked, almost slipping off my heels again.

“I’m sorry; are you waiting?” she asked me, glancing at the stalls.

Mutely, I shook my head and bolted.

Back in the corridor, I leaned against the wall. I didn’t know why I’d let Celia get to me; I was still certain she was wrong. Trying not to lose it, I went back to the table. Troy’s back was to me. He had broad shoulders, and his hair was thick and shiny, and tousled; he was so sexy and so hot and he was going to be mine.

I tiptoed toward him, thinking to surprise him with a little kiss on his cheek, when I heard him humming.

“
My love is like a red, red rose . . .
”

And I stopped.

Dead.

“Lindsay,” he said, turning and looking over his shoulder. And his deep blue eyes . . . were they still blue? . . . locked on me.

The candle on our table flickered and blew out. Troy jerked; his head lowered slightly toward his chin, and he wiped his forehead.

“Whoa,” he said, taking a drink of water.

“What?” I asked, not sitting down yet. He reached over to me and took my hand. His fingers were cold.

“Nothing. I’m just a little . . . dizzy . . . ” He trailed off, blinking a few times, and drinking a little more water. “You dazzled me.”

Our waiter arrived.

“Would either of you care for an after-dinner liqueur?”

“Just coffee for me,” Troy said. “Lindsay, go ahead; you’re not driving.”

Maybe that was the problem; he’d had too much to drink and he knew it. He had to drive in the fog in someone else’s Lotus, on the winding, hilly roads.

“No thanks,” I said, although at any other time, I would have loved to try an after-dinner liqueur. I didn’t even know what they were. But it was time to keep my wits about me. Because maybe Troy was more than drunk.

Troy sucked in his breath again, and half-turned his head, murmuring to himself. His coffee arrived and I drank more water, watching him. He sipped slowly; then he set down his cup.

“We should go,” he said. “I have to go back to Lakewood to get Spider. He can’t wait to see Julie.”

“Yeah,” I said vaguely.

He grinned at me. “And I’ve got another big surprise planned for you. You’re the only person on the planet who would love it.”

“Oh?” I asked anxiously. “What is it?”

He cupped my chin. His eyes
were
dark. But not black. It was just the lighting, I told myself. Repeatedly.

“It’s a
surprise
,” he emphasized.

“Not big on ’em,” I said.

“It’ll be worth the wait. Trust me.”

I want to. I want to. I want to.

Troy stood and pulled out my chair, and all our servants thanked us for coming. There was no mention of a bill. Then, after we went outside, he scooped me up in his arms once more.

Cold seeped through me, aching, into my bones. He gazed down at me but the moon was hidden, and I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Lindsay, serious, what’s up?” he asked. “I thought you’d be happy . . . ”

I tried to smile one of those semi-reserved smiles I learned from Jane. If I could keep him guessing, maybe he
wouldn’t
guess that I was suddenly afraid of him. Worried that Celia was right, and I was wrong.

“You probably don’t believe me.” He sighed against my cheek. “I said I’d break up with her almost two months ago, and I haven’t.”

I still said nothing. By then he had finished walking across the gravel and he set me down, tipping back my head with both hands, and kissed me deeply. I wanted to enjoy it, I really did, but I was too afraid.

Way
too afraid.

THE LOTUS GLIDED to a stop in the same spot where Troy had picked me up for our dinner. It was seven thirty, and very dark. The dance would start at nine. Troy opened his door; I tried to get out before he came around to my side, but between Marica’s heels and how low the car was to the ground, I couldn’t manage it. He wrapped his hand around my forearm and pulled me up until I settled into my shoes, kind of like a marionette, and he kissed me. So maybe my inner—and as yet unrecognized—suspicion was unfounded: that he had borrowed the Lotus not so much to impress me, but so that no one would see me getting out of his car. I was so cold, and his lips were warm and soft, like melted chocolate.

I wanted to give in to that kiss. I had a terrible feeling that it would be our last. Celia had warned me, and Troy had hummed the wrong tune at dinner; and I broke away from him, staggering in Marica’s shoes. I took them off and began to rush away.

“Lindsay,” he called after me, “your feet. I probably have something in my gym bag—”

“No problem,” I said, giving him a wave. “I’m good.”

He laughed. “You’re crazy!”

“It’s not far,” I said, although of course he knew that it was far. My feet were already on fire from the frozen ground that was littered with twigs and rocks. Sticks and stones. Words will never . . .

Possessed.

He kept laughing, the sound distorting in the wind. “Don’t forget the surprise.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, taking giant strides now to make my trip shorter. I could see the blacktop path to Grose peeking through the snow, its lines of horse head sentries mutely observing my flight. Did one of them move? Did a chain clank?

The wind blew, and fog drifted across my path. When I turned and looked back the way I had come, the Lotus was gone. I thought I heard laughter echoing off the buildings, but when I looked left and right at the veils of mist, I saw no one. In our school of hundreds, I felt as if I were the only person on the fog-choked grounds. Everyone else was getting ready for the dance.

I was feeling spooked—but when had I stopped being spooked? Fear was a current that jittered through me constantly. It was like when Memmy was sick—I would go through five minutes, ten, maybe an hour, forgetting that she had a terminal illness; and then when I remembered, I would be astonished that I could forget. And with that horrifying reboot, it would feel worse, like finding it out for the very first time . . . again and again and again.

I had been terribly afraid each time I relearned that she was going to die.

Now I was terribly afraid that I was going to die.

I didn’t have a death wish. I wouldn’t go to the dance. I’d stay in my room with the door firmly shut, all lights on, and let someone else deal with the unfinished business of Marlwood—including Celia’s. I was done. Especially if Troy was being dragged into it.

I couldn’t stand the idea that he’d been part of it since the beginning. All the more reason to bail.

Not bail, stop.

“It’s over,” I said aloud, not so much to make sure Celia heard me, as to make sure that I heard myself.

Decision made, I rounded the corner . . . and leaped into the shadows, shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

Miles Winters was standing in front of our door, smoking a cigarette. He was wearing a long black overcoat and black gloves. An overhead spotlight shone on his white-blond hair as he stood in profile, slowly blowing smoke out of his nose as he turned his head in my direction. I caught my breath.

“You can come out,” he said. “I know you’re there.”

I didn’t move, only hugged my short jacket around myself, watching as he flicked his cigarette into the snow and walked briskly along the concrete path in my direction. I squeezed myself into the darkness, my heart beating painfully against my ribs. My feet ached but I stepped to the right, off the blacktop and into the snow . . . just as he darted forward, cornering me. He came right up to me, and smiled. He smelled spicy, like clove cigarettes.

“Hello, princess,” he said. He plucked Marica’s shoes out of my grasp and let them drop to the ground; they landed with two soft thuds, like apples falling into wet straw. “They can’t hurt
that
much.”

I swallowed hard. “They’re not mine.”

“And yet,” he said. The tension in his face accentuated the sharp angles beneath his eyes, his jawline. “You use a lot of things that aren’t yours, don’t you?”

I shivered as if someone had just walked over my grave. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is.” He looked from the shoes to my feet, then swept his gaze up my body, to rest on my face. “My family is investing in this school. So what happens at Marlwood . . . ” He smiled thinly. “. . . Better not hurt any of us Winters.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I snapped, hoping he didn’t hear the catch in my voice. I was scared. We were alone.

“Or what?” He reached out a hand and touched my cut, the cut I’d gotten from a branch the day we’d run into each other in the woods. I jerked my head away. “Poor little poor girl, out in the cold. Troy’s father has been in business with my father since before we were born. You can’t fight that, baby.”

“Maybe
you
can’t, rehab boy,” I shot back. “But your family’s tribal affiliation has nothing to do with me.”

He laughed. “Oh, sweetie.” He snapped his fingers. “One word and you’re out on your ass.”

For a moment I believed him. And then I realized that if that were true, Mandy would have gotten rid of me two months ago. I stared at him, working overtime not to let my fear show. I hadn’t seen the birds or the cats, but I had seen the slash marks in the tree trunks, thick and deep.

“You know, in the old days, a cut like that was called a dueling scar,” he said, gesturing to my wound. “A young man would wear it as a badge of honor. It showed his courage.”

“What do you want?” I said harshly. “Because I’m cold and I want to go inside.” And as far away from him as possible.

“You’ll grab a warmer coat and some walking shoes, yes?” he asked. “All your friends are going to the dance. And your housemother’s going over to Stewart to watch a movie. “In a little while, no one else will be home.”

“You just pump it up, don’t you?” My voice rose an octave. “If you can’t scare someone one way, you just try another.”

“Scare . . . ” he said slowly, blowing out breath like smoke, like a ghost. He cocked his head, and the overhead light gleamed in his eye. He looked almost like an animal himself.

“The birds. The cats,” I flung at him.

He blinked. Then he snickered. “Oh God, you mean the Marlwood Stalker. You think it’s me?” He guffawed. “Really?”

“Most of us
know
it’s you,” I said. I was scanning the path behind him. It was deserted; no one else was out. If he tried anything, and I screamed . . . he could clap his hand over my mouth in a second.

“Oh, Linz. I haven’t got the energy.” He smiled ruefully. “And I’m too old for pranks.”

Pranks.
God, was I so stupid? Was Mandy doing it all? Pulling one big uber-prank on the entire school?

Or is Belle?

Maybe Belle had come back to wreak revenge on
the living.
Maybe she wanted her story told, the guilty brought to justice, if only through the judgment of history.

“
But she is the guilty one
,” Celia said.

“What?” Miles said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you talking about Mandy? What’s wrong with your voice?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m cold,” I declared flatly.

“Then go and get a jacket,” he said. “And some better shoes. Not that those aren’t beautiful. I’ll wait.”

My eyes widened. Was he serious? “I’m not going anywhere with you. In fact—” I tried to push past him “—all I have to do is tell my dorm that you’re out here. And
you’ll
be going straight to hell.”

“Wrong. Been there. Got the T-shirt. Now I’m here.” He brushed his black- gloved hand over my lips. I jerked back my head. “And if you decide to hide out in Grose, I’ll still wait.”

“For what?”

“You.” He moved his shoulders as if to protest his innocence and gave me a lopsided smile, revealing his own white scar. It did look edgy, as he had said mine would look. “I think you’re kinda nifty.”

I shivered as if ice water had splashed down my spine. I wanted to come up with a sharp retort, but I was fresh out. Miles was diabolical. He was really, really good at scaring me.

“C’mon, admit it,” he said. “You’re a smart girl. Smart girls like smart guys. And I’m way smarter than Troy.”

“I don’t think Troy . . . ”
makes out with his sister
, I was about to blurt. Probably not the right thing to say to a psycho.

“I’ll go get that jacket,” I said.

He bowed with a flourish, stepping out of my way. I held my breath as I brushed past him, trembling, then opened our door and sailed inside. I leaned against it and closed my eyes. My body flooded with adrenaline and I shuddered for nearly half a minute. Then I propelled myself down the hall to find Julie.

She wasn’t in our room
.
Her top dresser drawer was open; a pink and silver scarf hung over the side. I asked; no one knew where she was, except that she’d left hours before and said she’d meet up with us at the dance.

Everyone else except Ms. Krige was there, trying on and rejecting outfits; spraying each other with perfume; borrowing makeup and jewelry. I returned Marica’s shoes and jewels and everyone else’s clothing; down to my panties and bra, I wrapped myself in Elvis’s fluffy sky-blue blanket and went back to my room. I crawled under the covers, watching the clock; it was eight thirty by then. I walked to the window and saw Miles standing on the porch of Jessel. He waved at me.

Was he even allowed on school property? Or, as usual, did the rules not apply?

“Hey, what’s up?” Claire said, hanging in my doorway. “You’d better hurry. We’re almost ready to go.”

I could keep my distance from Troy at the dance, but Miles appeared more than willing to invade my territory. Even if I locked all the doors and windows, I couldn’t be sure that I could keep him out. I’d have to rely on safety in numbers, then.

“Give me a minute,” I said, turning away from the window.