Evanescent (11 page)

Cooper blinks through my mind. I’ll be
Wesley’s forever if I agree, at least according to the Counts.

Mom and Lacey hover over me like ghosts.
I’ll sacrifice everything to save them, including Cooper if I have
to.

“Yes, Wesley,” I saturate his name with
sugar. “I’m already yours forever.” A part of that is gospel—and
the rest of it is a lie of the highest order.

Wesley dips his thumb into the soupy plasma
and marks my forehead in the shape of a half-moon.

“In the shape of a C for Counts,” he
corrects. Wes read my mind the second his thumb made contact with
me.

I give a wry smile. He doesn’t even pretend
to hide it anymore.

“From this moment forward, you and I have
entered into a lasting covenant as spirit mates now and forever
more.” Wes leans in and imparts a kiss so chaste it makes me wonder
if I understood anything he was saying at all. “You’re my spirit
wife, Laken.” His eyes glow the color of the fire as he takes up my
hand. “What the Countenance has bound together let no man put
asunder.”

Strange. Wes said man, but I heard Cooper
Flanders clear as a gunshot.

“No man, Laken.” Wes shakes his head ever so
slightly.
Not even that one
.

Cooper

“And then what happened?” I ask, staring at
Laken while I wolf down Chinese food straight from the carton.
She’s sitting Indian style on my bed as I lay beneath her, admiring
how good she looks perched on my mattress.

Like manna from heaven, Laken has spent the
last three nights snug in my bed. We wait until Marky falls asleep
before I shuttle her over. The last thing I need is to arouse
suspicion. One night was pushing it—but three nights would be the
Tic-Tac-Toe within the confines of marriage according to my
prepubescent sister. Although, according to Laken, she’s already
sealed the marriage deal with Wesley.

“And then,” she continues with her molten
hot story, “we consummated our union right there in the room of
fire in front of God and Kresley, herself. Grayson said my moves
were weak. She says to tell you you’ve been spared of an
embarrassing episode beneath the sheets.”

I give a quick nod. She had me for a minute,
and my heart lurched at the thought of Wes “taking” her in such an
intimate way—audience or not.

“I doubt you’d embarrass yourself beneath
the sheets,” I assure her.

“Then what were you nodding your head for?”
She leans in seductively.

“I was nodding my head because we wouldn’t
make it beneath the sheets.” I hold the smile from forming on my
lips. “You’d be lucky if we made it to the bed.” I almost phrased
that last sentence in present tense as if it were imminently about
to happen.

“We’re going to bed right now,” she teases,
trying to lift me by the fingers. Her light erotic touch sends a
fire line from my hand all the way down to my desperate man
parts.

“
You’re
going to bed, Laken.” I toss
the empty carton onto my desk and stretch out on the sleeping bag
that’s been messing up my back the better half of the week. “I’ll
be down here, flushing my football scholarship down the
toilet.”

“Coop!” She slaps her hand over her
mouth.

“I’m teasing. I swear they say a stiff
surface does wonders for your back.” All of them bad, but I leave
that part out. “Look, you’re his spirit wife now. The Counts take
everything you’ve done seriously, and until we can figure a way out
of this mess, I really want us to take it that way, too. I can ruin
things for you. I’d hate myself if I did.”

“So—what? I belong to Wesley?”

I stare at her for a good while. Her golden
hair, her perfect lips that I long to cover with mine.

“Yes, Laken.” My heart gives an unnatural
thump. “I believe you do.”

On Friday night, as the clouds filter in low
and cover the football field like stretched cotton, Wes jogs over
before I have the chance to put on my helmet.

Here we go.

I pan the bleachers for no apparent reason.
I know full well the only person I want to see is already cheering
on the sidelines—and I’d like to think it’s for me.

“Hey, Coop.” Fog billows from his mouth as
he digs his hands deep in his pockets. He’s wearing a thick wool
coat that makes his shoulders look twice as broad as reality would
have them, and for a second I wonder if he chose to wear it as a
means of intimidation.

A quick pulse of laughter trembles through
me at the thought of Wesley choosing his wardrobe with me in
mind.

“What’s up?” I look out at the field. We’re
playing Croft—a bunch of pussies who use their overinflated
shoulder pads as a means of intimidation much like the one standing
before me.

“The Spectators are up,
Coop
.” He
takes a step in until our elbows touch. “The Counts want them
gone.”

“I don’t see why. They haven’t caused
trouble in a while.” Shit. Wes might lead Laken to the Celestra
tunnels, but only the Tobias sisters are going to help us get our
families out. And no Spectators, means no Tobias reunion—making
their offer to get our families out of the tunnels null and
void.

“It’s not up to me.” He ticks his head back.
“Look, I don’t need you giving me grief. Launch a major assault.
The Counts want each one of them gone by Christmas—do as you’re
told.”

What the hell?

“Most of them have been gone for eons, and
now, just like that, I’m supposed to hunt them down and kill them.
And, by the way, how the heck do you expect me to do that? My bare
hands?”

Wes glares right through me with a look of
pure evil.

“You’re a smart guy, Coop. Always getting
what you set your mind to.” The words hang like a vulture as it
circles its prey. “I don’t care what you kill them with. You can
use yourself as weapon and detonate in their midst. Just get the
damn job done.” He stalks off, blending into the crowd.

I turn to find Laken staring right at me,
her face rife with curiosity.

The opposing team floods the field.

Coach motions me over. Not being one to
break with tradition, I run past the cheerleaders, and we exchange
high-fives until I get to Laken and linger for a moment.

Counts want the Spectators dead—every
single one
.

She shakes her head in distress. Crap. The
last thing I wanted was to worry Laken.

I continue down the line before jogging out
to meet with the team.

Just touching her for that brief moment
enlivened me in ways that only last summer I would have denied
existed. “True love” was just some hippy-dippy concept that came
from the land of unicorns and rainbows.

A slow spreading grin takes over as I crush
my helmet over my head.

I wonder if she felt that spark? If she
feels anything at all for me? Who knows? Tonight just might shape
up to be the luckiest night of my life.

“Flanders.” Flynn barks while shoving his
hand into my shoulder. We step outside the huddle for a moment.
“Found an entire tribe of the fuckers setting up camp by Olsen
Creek. Mostly men, but some jacked up women—a few girls.” He says
it with the hint of a greasy smile, and this unnerves me.

Flynn Masterson should be required to stay
ten feet from all girls on the planet, living or dead.

“The Counts want them all gone—they just
gave the order.”

“All?” His brows pitch. “With what, your bad
breath?”

“I thought maybe you could use your killer
charm. Hit on them and they’ll voluntarily off themselves.”

“Shit. We need to act, and we need to act
now. You need to stall.”

“If I don’t flush them out before Christmas,
the Counts will move on. They’ll assign the job to someone else.”
And, in a way, I wish they would.

Flynn sighs, spraying a white film through
his nostrils.

“
Dude
.” He shakes his head. “You must
have pissed them off pretty good. Sounds like they’re sending you
off on a suicide mission.”

I cast a quick glance into the bleachers and
spot Wes. The harsh stadium lights bleach him out a dull grey like
stainless steel.

“I don’t know about a suicide mission,” I
say. “Sounds more like murder.”

Eradicate the Spectators—off me in the
process. I can think of one person that would benefit.

I watch as Laken smiles and waves in the
distance, swaying her hips for the crowd.

Wes has found a way to eliminate more than
the Spectators from this planet. He’s engineered the perfect plan
to make sure I’m one of the casualties.

Well played Wes, but the game isn’t over
yet.

Not by a long shot.

Once the bodies and debris clear off the
field, Melville House becomes the central location for debauchery.
Most of the resident jocks are holed up at Melville, so it only
makes sense. Plus, it’s the most distal male dorm on campus, and
hardly any of the night patrol gives a shit what goes on down here.
I guess they figure enough cash runs through this place, the kids
are entitled to a little fun. Most of the house parents are former
residents, so they tend to turn a blind eye once the beer starts to
flow, and blunts brighten the periphery like a string of Christmas
lights. Rumor has it the house parents have been known to stock a
liquor cabinet or two.

Bodies file into Melville and stream
throughout the overgrown room like swarms of locusts. I wish it
were empty. That it was only Laken and me. I wonder if that will
ever happen, if Laken and I will ever happen. If Wes gets his
memory restored, I’m pretty sure she’ll renew her relationship with
him. I’ll have to savor those stolen moments of the two of us in my
bedroom. She’s been staying with me every night this week. Jen
seems clueless, and Hattie doesn’t care, but something tells me if
Wes found out, he’d have my ass on a pole.

“So I got my dress.” Grayson appears from
nowhere. Her blonde hair holds the slight scent of bleach as she
moves in close, tucking her hip into mine. “It’s actually teal, so
forget all about the turquoise. We’ll need to get you a tie to
match. Don’t fuck this up, kay? I’ve got a professional
photographer who might use us in a print ad if I play my cards
right.”

I bet “playing her cards right” includes
entertaining him in a horizontal position later in the evening.
Although she slept with Flynn while I was with her for less than a
print ad. Or at least I thought I was with her. Not sure what I was
doing in the first place.

Her blood red lips keep yapping, but all I
can think about is how I will most assuredly “fuck things up”
because I didn’t even realize there was a color difference between
the two hues. And how many hours am I going to have to log down at
Maria’s to pay for this brain malfunction? If I had thought things
through, I could have stayed home that night. I can’t think of one
good reason I’m headed to homecoming with Grayson other than trying
to fool Wes, and something tells me there’s no fooling Wes.

Laken walks into Melville, and the room
stills—at least for me.

Her smile fades to zero as her crystalline
eyes narrow in on Grayson with her arm slithering over my
chest.

Shit.

Grayson smooths her arm over my shoulders,
and I try to casually disembark from her unwanted embrace. She
drones on about hotel arrangements and how many bottles of
champagne we’ll need to entertain the guests at our after
party.

“Also”—she blows the word into my ear—“I’ll
be wearing something pink and lacey, that happens to come with
feathers, just for you.” She takes a bite of my earlobe, and I
flinch.

“Where you going?” She zooms in and runs her
hand up my thigh, securing a grip over my crotch with the dexterity
of a garden snake.

“Okay.” I let out a nervous laugh as I push
her away. “Lavender belt. Got it.”