Dark and Twisted (14 page)

I can’t let him get away. I run out into the hallway, looking for Jaxson, but it is empty. My forehead breaks out in a cold sweat as I search for him. Rain knocks against the scattered block windows above the lockers, making shadows dance in corners and along the walls. They seem to follow me, and I walk faster, the uneasy feeling blossoming in the pit of my stomach. They stretch up the dirty white walls, licking at the lights overhead. I’m losing it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, repeating in a whisper, “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.” When I open my eyes, all the lights have gone out.

Bang!
I jump as the double doors at the end of the hall slam against the frame and the sound reverberates through the hallway. Rain spills inside, yanking the purple homecoming flyers off the wall, scattering them across the floor in a sticky, wet mess. I swallow, my tongue stuck to the dry roof of my mouth and run to my last class of the day. I know I will find him there.

The shadows nip at my heels until I push open the classroom door and slam it shut. I gasp in the thick, hot air that steams off the radiator at the back of the room. He waits for me, leaning lazily against a brick wall, clearly amused. His eyes dance over me.

This is all a game to him
, I remind myself.

He wears a sadistic smile on his face, reminding me of a snake, ready to strike and kill its victim.

I stalk up to him, willing my heartbeat to slow. “What did you do to her?” I narrow my eyes.

His lip tilts in the corner, and I feel like we are on a giant chess board, and he’s about to sacrifice me.

“Nothing that she didn’t want to be done,” he muses.

I shake my head in disgust. “Do you get off on scaring people that are helpless? Weaker than you?” I hate people that take advantage of the weak. I would’ve never thought of Juliet as weak with her cruel, sarcastic remarks, nose always in the air, and a knife in her hand, ready to plunge deep into someone’s back.

“Trust me when I say everything that happened to Juliet was done willingly by both parties.”

My stomach twists at his words and images of Juliet’s lifeless body as she floats toward me flash across my mind.

“Did you hit her?”

Now, he narrows those flawless eyes at me. “I have never hit her, or any girl for that matter. Yeah, I lost my cool in the library, but my temper is a small price to pay for dating someone as charming as me.”

I feel sick to my stomach that I ever found him attractive. “I know what you are.” I slam my bag down on the nearest table. I want him to know that he might be able to intimidate Juliet, but I will not be so easily scared.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” He snarls.

“Well, I do. I know what you are.”

“What … incredibly handsome, sexy, and charming?” he says smugly.

Yes, yes, yes, and yes, I want to say. His pale eyes look at me as if he is stripping me apart and examining the pieces I don’t want anyone to see. I feel undressed and judged. My every flaw exposed to him. The awkward length to my hair, and the bangs I’m desperately trying to grow out, but stay in my eyes. My thin lips, and the scar where I had my appendix removed. My hand goes to my side. I can’t help but shiver, and he notices. I’m falling perfectly into his trap.

“No.” My face is on fire.

“No?” he taunts.

“I mean yes, there is something else.”

“What could possibly be left? Ahhh, dark and dangerous?”

He is baiting me once more, trying to distract me, but I’m not going to fall for it this time. “I know you have a secret.” I hiss.

“It’s a little early on in our relationship to be sharing secrets, Ace.” The sun peeks through the window, bathing him in a golden light. His skin takes on an iridescent tone, and his hair is so black that the sun makes it look blue. Like a raven king.

“I know what you really are,” I lower my voice to a whisper, as the room begins to fill with students.

“And what am I, Ace?” The right side of his mouth quirks up in a condescending smirk.

It all makes sense now, the eyes, the way cold doesn’t affect him. There is only one explanation—he is not from this world. Does Juliet know what he is? Could that be why Jaxson was threating her? I lean over the table toward him. For a moment, time is suspended as we stare at each other, and I wonder what other powers he could hold.

I let the words tumble out, the ones that have been at the back of my mind. “You’re an alien.” And there it is. It’s out. The words swell like a balloon ready to pop.

He’s silent, not moving or taking his eyes off me, and the smile has been wiped off his face. Maybe I made a mistake confronting him. I should have left it to someone else, like the government or someone more capable of other life forms.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Ace, but you are way off.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” I ask Cardelian, determined to get answers If Jaxson is not willing to give up his secret, maybe he will. With Cardelian I feel warm, the opposite feelings I get when I am around Jaxson. I shake my head, clearing away the thought of him.

“Sure. Is everything okay?” He tugs nervously at the hem of his sweater.

“I’m fine,” I murmur, and my cheeks are on fire.

“I’m glad.”

“Where do you want to talk? Your house?”

“No,” I practically shout, thinking about the red paint stains on the living room wall. “I mean, I can’t. My aunt isn’t home, and she wouldn’t want me to have a guy there without supervision,” I lie. I’ve never had a guy over before, and Essie hasn’t ever said I couldn’t.

“Well, how about we go get something to eat? I’m starving.” He smiles that dazzling smile, the one that makes me feel dizzy.

“Sure, that sounds great,” I agree.

A few moments later, I am in the front seat of Cardelian’s redone, red 1969 Mustang. The heat blazes out of the vents, and I have to loosen my scarf. “Nice car,” I mutter, wondering how a foster kid can afford a vehicle like this.

“Yeah, I know, it belonged to Mr. Foster’s son when he was in high school. After a few new spark plugs, I got the thing running.”

Now, I feel like a jerk. “I didn’t know they had a son,” I admit. The Fosters keep to themselves and are hardly seen in town.

“They did, but he died when he was eighteen. That’s when they started taking in foster kids.”

“I always assumed it was sort of a business for them.” I cringe, wanting to smack myself in the forehead. “That sounded really jerky of me. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shrugs. “There are a lot of foster parents who are in it just to collect a paycheck, but the Fosters are pretty cool. Mrs. Foster always has warm cookies waiting for me when I get home from practice. It’s pretty nice.”

Being around Cardelian is easy. There is no dark game, no riddles to keep me guessing, and no bait to keep me waiting.

We pull into the only diner in town and each order a cheeseburger and Coke. He makes me laugh so har
d
at a joke he just told that soda almost comes out of my nose. I don’t notice him reaching out. He brushes my mouth with his thumb, and I freeze, instantly hot all over like I’m standing too close to a fireplace.

“You had some ranch on your lip,” he says.

Holy hotness. His easygoing smile is gone from his eyes, replaced with hunger I’ve never seen for me before. It makes my legs feel wobbly and my stomach flip.

“Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty! I’m going to find that waitress.” I jump up, grabbing our empty glasses. I need to put some space between us, to cool off.

What am I doing? I should be finding out information. Instead, it is like we are on a date. No, we are most defiantly not on a date. I need to calm down go back to the table and get right down to businesses.
Is your brother and alien from another planet? There that is not so hard
.

I find the waitress gossiping with another woman by the kitchen, and she seems annoyed that I’m bothering her. While she goes to get our drinks, I lean against the wall, trying to calm my sudden rush of nerves. Did I imagine the hunger in his eyes? Was it just a fantasy? He is from this world. He might be other worldly hot, but Cardelian is a normal high school teenager. Maybe he doesn’t even know about Jaxson’s little super power.

The waitress returns with two glasses of coke, and I take them back to the table. I freeze, my bag is turned over and Cardelian is flipping through my book. I must have knocked it over in my rush to get up. I set the glasses down on the table and slide into the booth.

“You dropped your bag when you got up,” he admits. “Do you read a lot of Shakespeare?” He sets the book down between us.

“Just this one. It was my mom’s favorite.” The sight of the tattered book, filled with dog ears and highlighted text, brings me back to twilight reads in the garden. “My mom always carried that copy with her wherever she went.”

He smiles at me. “It’s my favorite book, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” I admit.

He’s hot, likes to read, and doesn’t seem to mind being seen with me. I twirl a french fry through the ranch on my plate, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.

He shifts so that he is leaning across the table. “Myth is that Shakespeare traveled to the realm of the faeries before writing it,” he says.

I giggle nervously.

“It’s true! How else do you think he knew about Fae? He stayed days with King Oberon’s court. However, I think he wrote him to be much cleverer than he really is.” The temperature drops and I shiver, which seems to battle with the warmth coming off Cardelian.

I take the book back. The cover is so faded it’s barely recognizable—probably because my mom carried it around like a bible. “Yeah, my mom told me that once.”

Cardelian runs his finger across the edges.

“My mom used to read it to me when I was younger, before … It was like her words were magic. It’s silly, I know.”
Why did I just share that with him?

He gets up and moves so our shoulders touch, filling me with a burning sensation like fire on ice. His long, golden lashes brush the top of his cheekbones. A perfect gold curl falls into his eyes. I’m struck with the urge to lean the rest of the way forward and kiss him. The urge is so overpowering, it’s all I can do to pull my eyes from his full lips. What is wrong with me?

“I should probably ask you some questions for my article.” I clear my throat and push away from him. My head spins as I try to collect my thoughts. It’s hot in here like someone turned up the thermostat as high as it can go. “You are one of the top athletes,” I say shakily, sitting back and leaving plenty of space between us. I take out my notebook, trying to focus. The Wind and sleet pound angrily on the window as I dig out a pen and notebook.

“How about we play a game?” he says, sending shivers through my body.

“A game? What sort of game?” Unease fills me.

“I’ll answer your questions for your article, and you answer one of my questions.” A glimmer of something playful dances in his eye.

There’s not much that isn’t already known about me, and I don’t have any embarrassing secrets to hide. Plus, maybe I can get more out of him this way.

“Deal.”

He reaches over shaking my hand, it disappears in his, its warm and comforting. I yank it away, running it through my hair and trying to evaporate the nervousness I feel.

“Ummm, what was the name of your last school?” Ice breaker.

“Poughkeepsie High, it’s only a few towns over.”

I write down Poughkeepsie and underline it.

“My turn. Have you always lived in Copake Falls?”

“My whole life. I’ve hardly stepped out of its borders. How long did you live there?”

“Since the ripe old age of eleven,” he states. “What about you, do you play any sports?”

I curl my lip in disgust. “Let’s just say sports and I do not go together. I barely can walk up the stairs, let alone kick a ball.”

“You look like the kind of girl that is more brains than brawn anyway.”

I roll my eyes. “You haven’t seen my last report card or else you wouldn’t be so quick to say that.”

He sits up straighter. “Okay, not brain or brawn, so what then?”

“I write. I’d rather be writing than almost anything else in the world.”

He smiles, and any judgment I felt vanishes.

“Are you any good?”

I shrug. “Of course, I believe I’m good. That’s what writers do. They fall in love with their characters, even if the dialogue is crap and the story has been told a thousand times before. My characters are real to me, like good friends that I know everything about.” Wow, where did that come from?

“I would love to read something you wrote.”

I chew at my bottom lip, unsure if I’m ready to open up that part of me yet. It is one thing to talk about my writing, but sharing is completely different.

“When you are ready,” he says, reading me.

“My turn.” It’s time to start getting answers. “How many foster homes have you lived in?” My throat tightens. It’s not always easy being a reporter.

“Five.” He hangs his head, and golden curls cover his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” I slide closer to him.

“Eden, you can always ask me anything.”

He laces his fingers with mine and I let him, liking the warm tingle that runs through me. Despite wanting to be completely in this moment, my mind goes to Jaxson.

“What about Jaxson?”

“What about him?” he replies, his tone turning dark.

“Does he play any type of sports?” If I’m going to get to the hard stuff like aliens, I need to ease in to it.

He chuckles. “Those two words don’t even go together, Jaxson and sports.”

I try to picture Jaxson in a school uniform, with his downcast gaze, and his dark hair covering his face, and I laugh at the thought.

“He is more of the artsy type, with a few other chosen activities.”

The way he says it makes me wonder if he means drugs, which would explain a lot. Could drugs make his eyes change like that?

“What about his parents … did they…”

“Die? No.” He shakes his head. “Drug addicts.”

“Why all these questions about Jaxson?”

I shrug and look down at my fingers trying not to give anything away.

“Eden, do you like him?”

“No,” I say too quickly.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Eden, Jaxson might not be my blood, but he is my brother and nothing will change that, but there are things about Jaxson you wouldn’t understand.” His warm eyes beg me to understand.

“Like what?” I swallow.

He hesitates before answering. “It wasn’t always just Jaxson and I. There was another person who was part of our rag-tag group. Abigail.”

“Abigail?” No one else started school with Jaxson or Cardelian.

“Yeah, she was with us for a while, Jaxson had a thing with her, but …”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. Abigail and I… It was complicated. She was fragile. Jaxson was jealous of our relationship. He is like a match ready to strike. Abby was the kindle.”

I swallow hard against the lump that formed in my throat.

“Eden, he is my brother.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore, okay?” he pleads.

I feel guilty for pushing the subject so hard.

“Okay.” I nod my head.

“I have a question.”

That hungry look is back in his eyes, causing my heart to thump rapidly in my chest.

“Will you go to homecoming with me? I know it’s short notice and all, but I was hoping that we could go together. I have to play ball that night, so maybe you could watch me too?”

When I don’t say anything, he continues.

“Since this is my first game, and somehow, everyone thinks I’m going to be the one to bring home the win… That’s a lot of pressure if I can’t do it. I was hoping I could have at least one friendly face in the crowed.” He smiles. “I completely understand if you don’t want to go. The night could go bad. I could be chased out of town with pitch forks and fiery torches.”

His smile is weak now, and I feel bad for him. There’s a lot of pressure on him to be this great football star that will save our pathetic team.

“I will go,” I blurt. Jaxson’s face pops in my mind, and he doesn’t look happy, but I push it away.

Cardelian’s smile widens, showing off his perfect row of teeth. “Really? That’s great. Can I ask you one more thing?” his eyes seem to burn, the golden turning to almost a cooper.

I nod unable to find my voice.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

I have been, but I don’t think he means kissed the way Buck kissed me in the eighth grade. He means the type of kiss that curls your toes. A sudden longing takes me over, I want to know what that feels like, I want him to fill me with a warmth that I have not felt before.

I need to forget about Jaxson and stop searching for explanations. I don’t want to remember that I ever met him and that he makes me ache. I know that kissing Cardelian will make me forget everything. I lean closer to him, he smells like coriander and cinnamon, of some place foreign and warm, it makes me feel dizzy and lightheaded. His breath is warm and his lips are so close to mine. I forget about everything else but the warmth of him.

A burst of cold wind thrusts the doors open with a loud crash, I jerk away from the almost kiss. The window next to us shatters, raining in on us. I scream and cover my face. It cuts Cardelian’s shirt, and an icy wind blows flurries of snow in through the broken window. The waitress runs off in a panic, trying to stop it from coming in. All the warmth is sucked out of the room, replaced with a bone chilling wind. Cardelian’s warmth is no match for the cold that blows through, making our almost kiss a distance memory.