A Want So Wicked (14 page)

CHAPTER 23

I
sit up, sweat cooling on my skin. My chest heaves as I gasp for air. The eyes—Onika's eyes—are still with me. I scramble out of bed, desperate to get away from the vision. It's dim in the hallway, the only light coming from the television on in the living room.

What the hell are you doing back?
Onika's words are like a whisper in my ear. Fear surges through me and I move quickly toward the couch where Harlin is asleep. When I reach him, he wakes with a start.

“Elise?” He looks around. “Are you okay?” Harlin sits up, wincing when he puts too much weight on his arm.

“Can I stay here with you?” I blurt out. I'm trembling so badly that I'm not even sure I can stand anymore. Onika saw me in a vision. How is that possible? I wasn't really there.

Harlin takes an uneasy glance toward my father's room. “Wouldn't you be more comfortable in your own—”

“Please? I'm scared.”

He reaches for me right then and pulls me to him. “You're shaking.” His voice is low, concerned.

“I had a nightmare,” I say, knowing it sounds childish.

Harlin picks up the blanket that fell to the floor and lays it over my shoulders. Slowly the images of cracking skin and the feel of cold rain start to fade, replaced with something calmer. Replaced with Harlin.

“Come here,” he says, curling my body to his as he lies down. His hand slides over the bare skin of my arm, his breath in my hair. “Is this okay?” he asks.

I close my eyes. “Yes, it's perfect.”

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks after a moment.

“Onika,” I say. “A horrible woman with a shattered face.”

Harlin holds me tighter, and when he speaks his voice is strained. “I know who she is. Monroe told me about her. And I know she's evil.”

Sleep creeps over me, trying to steal my thoughts. It's so late, and the vision has left me drained. I snuggle into Harlin, blocking out the images that are haunting me. “Onika wants to kill me,” I murmur. “And I have to find Monroe to learn how to stop her.”

And when Harlin promises he'll help me, I drift away.

 

* * *

 

“Hi,” Lucy calls from the kitchen doorway.

I jump, my forehead connecting with something hard, and yelp. Underneath me, Harlin clutches his chin, moaning in a half-sleep stupor. I quickly realize that it's morning and roll off the couch, banging my elbow on the coffee table when I do.

“Ow,” I mumble, rubbing my funny bone.

“I'm sorry,” my sister says. “I thought I should wake you before Dad sees you out here.” She hitches up her eyebrow. “On top of each other.”

Harlin slowly pulls himself into a sitting position, blinking as if trying to clear his vision. The clock on the wall reads 6 a.m. I turn to Lucy from my spot on the floor and see that she's wearing her coat. She must have snuck out again. “Are you just getting home?” I ask. She shoots Harlin an uneasy glance.

“Crazy night,” she offers as if this can explain everything. The dark circles under her eyes are caked over in makeup, her hands barely poking out from her sleeves.

Harlin straightens. “Lucy, you shouldn't—”

“I don't recall asking your opinion, Harlin,” she says.

Just then the door to the master bedroom squeaks open, and my father shuffles out. He's tying his striped robe when he sees us and pauses. “Is there a party going on?” he asks.

Lucy ducks her head and starts down the hall, patting our father's arm as she passes him. I'm surprised at her behavior toward Harlin, but he doesn't mention it. Instead Harlin starts folding the blanket as if he was planning to get up this insanely early all along.

“Sorry,” I say to my father. “Hope we didn't wake you. After last night, I wanted to check on Harlin's arm.”

He tilts his head like he is absolutely sure I'm lying. “And how is his arm, Elise?” he asks.

“Uh . . . better?”

My father stands motionless for a second, and then he shakes his head and walks into the kitchen. I hear the clink of cups, and then the running of water for the coffeepot.

“That was a nice save,” Harlin says, sounding amused. “So detailed. Like a nurse.”

“Shut up, Harlin,” I say, trying not to smile. “I didn't hear you offer anything better.”

“You sure you didn't want to tell him we were
playing doctor
? That might have sounded more believable.”

I turn quickly and swat at him. He laughs, dodging my swing, and catches my hand. “I would tackle you right here,” he says, leaning close. “Pin you and kiss you. But with the luck we have in your house, someone will walk in. And then what will you tell them?” he whispers. “That you were giving me CPR?”

“Stop!” I slap his shoulder again.

“Elise,” my father calls from the kitchen.

“Yes?” I respond, ignoring the smirk on Harlin's lips.

“Maybe you can come in here and let Harlin get dressed.” He pauses. “Alone.”

Harlin and I exchange a look, and laugh. Then he heads down the hallway toward the bathroom.

When I walk into the kitchen, my father is pouring two cups of coffee. “So,” he says now that Harlin is safely away. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I smile into my coffee cup as we sit at the table. “Wow, you said the word! I'm proud. And, sorry, I'm not going to discuss this with you.”

My dad slips off his glasses and sets them on the kitchen table. “You and your sister used to talk to me about everything,” he says. “I don't know when that changed.” There's a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Is this really about Harlin?” I ask.

He exhales. “No, not entirely. It's your sister. I can tell that something is going on with her, but she won't talk to me about it. I worry that I've been too tough on her.” He lowers his eyes. “On both of you.”

“Oh, Dad.” He looks so forlorn that I move to hug him from behind as he sags in the chair. “We know you love us,” I tell him. “Lucy's going through a phase—a bad breakup. It's not your fault.”

“All I want is for you girls to be happy.”

“We are happy.” I smile, giving him one more squeeze. “Especially when you let cute boys spend the night.”

“Har, har, Elise,” he says, seemingly at ease. “Can you take Harlin to get his bike after breakfast?” my father asks. “I have to be at church. Have a good time at work.”

My stomach drops when he says it, dread coming over me in a strong wave. I'd forgotten all about Santo's. And Abe.

 

* * *

 

As my father goes to leave, Lucy emerges from her room and asks him for a ride to a café where she's meeting friends. At “friends” I give her a questioning look and she shrugs, as if to say that the sometimes-boyfriend is out of her life for good. I'm glad.

When Harlin comes back into the living room, his phone is in his hand and he's wearing his freshly washed clothes with his hair brushed smooth. We have the place all to ourselves. But when he sits next to me on the couch, I'm alarmed by his serious expression.

“What?” I ask.

“I talked with Monroe.”

My heart rate spikes. “And?”

“I didn't want to tell him too much over the phone. I'm not sure he'd believe me about your past without seeing you for himself. So I told him that I needed his help with a Forgotten. That it had to do with Onika.”

At the sound of her name, my stomach twists. She knows about me now, saw me in her vision. I'm terrified. “Is he coming to Arizona?” I ask.

“First flight out. He wants us to meet him. I told him we'd be at Diner 51 at seven.” Harlin leans forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees. “Monroe's going to try to make you cross into the light,” he says quietly. “Just like he did last time. But I can't watch it again. I think it'll kill me.”

“Harlin,” I whisper, resting my hand on his arm. I understand the impossible position he's in—leading people to the end of their human form, even if he's helpless to stop it. I can't imagine how difficult it is, the burden he has to carry. The grief.

“After you jumped off the bridge,” he says, studying my face, “I had to live without you, among everyone who had forgotten. Everyone but me and Monroe. He tried to help. He eventually sent me to Marceline, the oldest living Seer he could locate, when he found out he was—” Harlin stops himself. “Bottom line, I'm drawn to the Forgotten. Whether I want to be or not,” he says. “And I've been so alone, Elise. Until now.” His hazel eyes meet mine. “Until you.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I hold his gaze.

“I can never love anyone else,” Harlin continues. “Not ever. What do you think about that?”

“I think that's a bit dramatic.” I smile at the way he's watching me.

Harlin leans in, and my heart races as he puts his palm on my cheek. “What if all I want is for us to grow old together?” he asks.

“I'd say you should have bigger goals.” I let the rest of the world fall away. Everything but Harlin.

“What if you could remember loving me?” he whispers, bringing his mouth close, his lips grazing mine.

His words make me ache, make me yearn. “I've already loved you twice,” I murmur.

Harlin's eyes slide shut and he finally kisses me. His mouth is warm, spicy like cinnamon. I let him lay me back on the couch, my body humming with electricity as the tension builds.

I've never been with anyone, not like this. I pull his shirt over his head, breaking our kiss for only a second before he's there once again, his skin burning hot against mine.

“I've missed you so much,” I whisper as he kisses my neck. “Even when I didn't know you, my soul still missed you.”

CHAPTER 24

M
y phone vibrates on the coffee table, interrupting us. I pull back from Harlin to answer it and he groans, collapsing next to me on the couch. “By all means,” he mumbles, lying facedown in the cushions. I laugh, but when I check the caller ID, my body stills.

Harlin sits up when he notices my silence. “Who is it?” he asks.

“It's Abe,” I say, staring at the screen. “He's probably wondering when I'm coming in to work.”

“You're not going back there,” Harlin says.

“But if I don't, he'll know.”

“If you do, he'll know. What are you going to say if he asks where you've been? You're not a gifted liar, Elise. Stay away from him. I'm pretty sure he's the one who tampered with my bike.”

It makes sense. I'm not entirely sure what Shadows are capable of, and Abe can be very possessive. The phone stops vibrating and I relax slightly. “I should call in to work,” I say, climbing up from the couch. “And I should probably do it before Abe gets there.”

Harlin nods, bending to grab his shirt from the floor. I walk back to my bedroom to call off my shift at Santo's. Margie seems irritated, seeing as I've called in twice already this week, but I tell her I still have the flu. She seems to buy it. When I return to the living room, Harlin is at the front door, holding his jacket.

“Garage called,” he says. “My bike's ready. I phoned a cab since I have to go into Ward, but I'll be back to take us to Diner 51.”

“I can drive you to the garage,” I say.

“I know. But I need some time to think.”

There's a turn in my stomach. Does Harlin regret kissing me? Regret coming here last night? “I guess I'll see you later, then,” I say, not even trying to disguise the hurt in my voice.

Harlin smiles softly and steps up, wrapping his arms around me as he brings his lips to my ear. I close my eyes. “I hate every second I'm away from you,” he says. “Don't ever doubt that.” And then he kisses me.

 

* * *

 

After Harlin's gone, I wait through the afternoon, alternating between snacking and calling my sister to see when she's coming home. Lucy never answers. When I talk to my father, he tells me he'll be stuck at work until late tonight. I don't mention that I called in to Santo's. Right now, the less he knows the better.

It's close to six thirty when I hear the engine of a motorcycle in front of my house. I check my reflection once more, still tingling from our kiss.

Harlin waits at the curb on his Harley, leaning back with his hands in his lap as he stares down the road, wearing his dark sunglasses even though the sky is overcast.

As if he knows I'm watching him, Harlin smiles and then slowly turns. “Hey, you,” he says.

“Hi.” I'm exhilarated, shy, and nervous all at once.

Harlin takes off his glasses and tucks them into the collar of his T-shirt. He's not wearing his leather jacket, which makes him appear more casual, less dangerous. I certainly don't mind noticing his arms.

“I can't believe I'm going to get on that right now.” I motion toward the bike. “You got in an accident
yesterday
.”

“That wasn't my fault.” He frowns at this, looking down. I can see from here the large scrapes in the chrome, but otherwise the Harley appears to be in working order.

I walk over and he helps me climb on the back. When my body is against his, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “If you get me killed,” I whisper, “I'm going to be so mad.”

Harlin chuckles and then kicks the bike to life.

 

* * *

 

Harlin drives us across town to Diner 51. It's a small building with aluminum siding and a bright pink door. It's kitschy in a fifties, alien sort of way. As we walk inside, there's an Elvis song playing, a few customers at the counter. I check the time on my phone and see that we're early.

Harlin takes my hand and pulls me toward a table in the back. Since we're here, I order a milkshake. Then nervousness begins to twist my stomach. What will Monroe tell me about Onika when he gets here? What will he tell me about myself?

I'm only three sips into my chocolate shake when the diner door opens. I recognize Monroe Swift immediately. He's handsome—in his early forties, with blond hair slightly graying at his temples and bright blue eyes. He's definitely thinner than I've seen him, his features exaggerated by the sharp angles.

He nods to Harlin as he approaches, his expression unreadable. When he pauses at the end of the table, Monroe holds out his hand to me. “Now who do we have here?” he asks in a British accent.

“Elise Landon,” I answer, sliding my palm into his cool one.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” He squints as if studying me, and then moves to take a seat.

“This is the one I told you about,” Harlin says to him. “She needs your help.”

“Help that you can't provide as her Seer?” Monroe asks. Harlin shifts next to me, and Monroe straightens, looking between us. “Wait, is she even your Forgotten?”

“Not exactly,” Harlin says.

“What are you doing?” Monroe whispers harshly. “Why did you drag me out here? Who is this girl, and what does she have to do with Onika?”

I make a sound when he mentions Onika. Monroe turns, his hands balled into fists on the table. And just then, another memory appears, blocking out the world around me.

I'm in the passenger seat as Monroe drives down a busy Portland street. “Yes,” he says. “You are my last Forgotten, but it doesn't mean this is easy for me. You have no idea what I'm going through.”

“What
you're
going through?” I snap. “What about what
I'm
going through?” I've lost everything. Lost Harlin. Lost my face. And soon, I'll lose my life.

I start, the diner scene filtering in once again. I wait a beat as the fear fades, the feeling of hopelessness. I don't want that to happen to me. I refuse to disappear. A new streak of bravery rushes in at the thought of losing everything.

“I'm a Forgotten,” I tell Monroe, almost confused at the sudden affection I have for him. “But I'm not like the others—not exactly. You used to be my Seer,” I say. “You used to be my friend.”

Monroe swallows hard, his expression softening as a slow realization comes over him. He glances at Harlin, who's still smiling. “Is she—” He stops. “How is that possible?”

“As Marceline told me,” I say, “there is no such thing as impossible.”

“Marceline?” Monroe's mouth quirks up. “Is that old psychic a part of this?”

“She's my Seer. She's also
actually
psychic. Marceline told me who I used to be. She told me about Charlotte.” At that, Harlin lowers his head, as if there's still pain at the sound of the name. Across from me, Monroe's blue eyes fill with tears, but he blinks them away.

“I see,” he says. “Well, sweetheart. You have been missed. You've been missed dearly.”

I smile at the thought of this, the thought that I hadn't been completely forgotten. “I don't remember everything,” I say. “But little bits and pieces have come back. And then, of course, there are the visions.” I pause. “Of Onika.”

Any joy on Monroe's face quickly fades. “The beast has come for you.”

I'm taken aback by his choice of words. Even though I remember Monroe calling Onika a monster, I also know that he once loved her. Could his feelings truly have changed so drastically?

“She hasn't come for me,” I say. “At least not yet.”

“I'm sure she will,” Monroe responds. His knuckles are white as he keeps his clenched fists on the table. “She won't rest until she finds you. She knows how I cared for you. That alone is enough reason for her to destroy you.” Monroe exhales and runs his fingers through his thinning hair. It's then that I notice the dark circles beneath his eyes. The veins visible under his skin. I've seen that look before.

“You're sick,” I murmur.

Monroe lifts his gaze to mine. Harlin clears his throat as he turns away, and I think that he already knew.

“Cancer?” I ask. When Monroe nods, it's like I've been punched in the gut. “Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I'm not sure if they're for Monroe or for the grief I still have about my mother's death. Either way, I'm heartbroken. I tell him so.

“I've been sick a long while now,” Monroe says gently. “Even finished all the stages of grief. But leading you to the light was my greatest gift. I'm so proud of you.”

“I wouldn't exactly call it a gift,” Harlin says. “It was a goddamn tragedy.”

Monroe turns to him, compassion softening his features. “I know you see it that way,” he tells him as if they've had this conversation before. “But there was no other choice. You know that.”

Harlin shakes his head. “Well, the universe can find someone else, because I won't lose her again.” His voice rises, drawing the stares of the other customers.

“Harlin,” I say, touching his arm to calm him, but his gaze is fixed on Monroe.

“I'm not ready to go anywhere,” I say to both of them. “I have a life. A family. Marceline said that I could control the Need, bring it on to get stronger. But I'm not going to let myself disappear. Not even for the light.”

Monroe furrows his brow. “What else did Marceline tell you?”

“That I'm here to restore balance, to stop Onika. And I think you might be the only person who knows how to help me.”

“I assure you I don't. But, sweetheart”—he looks concerned—“Onika's a very powerful Shadow. I'm not sure there is a way to stop her. Perhaps you should focus on your destiny, on being a Forgotten—”

“She
is
my destiny,” I say. “But I don't even know where to start. I have to find a way.”

Monroe covers his mouth with his hand, lost in thought. I wonder about the guilt Monroe feels. He's been helping the Forgotten, and yet the one person he obviously loved the most turned to the Shadows. It still haunts him after all of these years.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I slide it out cautiously, afraid it's Abe again, but I'm relieved to see my father's number. I stand and wander to the corner of the diner for privacy.

“Hey, old man,” I say. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, kid. Sorry to bug you, but it's the strangest thing. I'm here filling out insurance paperwork for the upcoming school year, and I can't for the life of me remember your sister's middle name. Do you know it?”

“Dad.” I start to laugh, but then I stop cold. A sense of dread slips over me. “It's Constance,” I whisper with a catch in my voice. “Dad, she's named after Mom.”

“How did I ever forget that?” he asks, sounding bewildered.

“I guess you're getting old,” I offer, but shoot a look back at Harlin. When I do, his shoulders tense as if he knows something's wrong. He stands.

“I have to go, Dad,” I say quietly. “I'll see you soon.” I hang up and push the phone back into my pocket. As I approach the table, a fresh fear pulls at my heart.

“My sister,” I say, glancing between Harlin and Monroe. “She hasn't been feeling well. And just now, my father forgot her middle name. Lucy's been sneaking out, wearing a lot of makeup. She . . . she told me she had a secret.” I stop then, not sure I can go on.

Harlin reaches to take my hand. “Lucy's a Forgotten too,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry, Elise. I wanted to tell you, but—”

I yank my fingers from his. “You knew?” I shout, my voice echoing in the small diner. Harlin lowers his head.

“I'm her Seer.”

I stumble back a step, feeling completely betrayed. Harlin said he loved me, agreed that we'd tell each other everything. How could he keep something like this from me? “Take me home,” I say coldly. “Take me home now.”

“Elise,” Monroe says. “As a Seer, Harlin isn't allowed to tell—”

“She's my sister!” At the words, I break. Lucy is like me, and that means she has a terrible choice to make. I think then about the Shadows, wondering if they've been tempting her too. Oh no. What if they've gotten to Lucy?

I don't wait any longer as I rush toward the exit, hearing the heavy sound of boots behind me. Just as I make it outside, Harlin is next to me, trying to take my arm.

“I'm so sorry,” he says again. “If you'd let me—”

I push him back. “Don't,” I growl. “Just get me to Lucy.”

Harlin's expression is absolute regret, but I can't worry about him right now. I have to find my sister.