Evanescent (37 page)

“You did great.” I pull back my cheek. “But
I have a confession.”

“What’s that?” She licks her lips as if what
I were about to say were sexual in nature, and I wish it were.

“I scored a supervising spirit.”

“You did?” She grips my shoulders and gives
a congratulatory shake.

“Yeah, actually it’s a long, sordid story,
but I managed to get into the woods myself tonight.”

“
Coop!
” She pulls me to the bed in
her enthusiasm and hops into my lap like a habit. “Tell me
everything.”

“Here’s the thing.” I exhale hard looking
down at the threadbare carpet. “I can’t get into too many details,
or I’ll have my frequent flier miles revoked, but it’s nothing that
will hurt you—in fact, I made a special trip to the tunnels just to
make sure nothing happened to you.”

Her mouth falls open. She cups the side of
my face with her tender hand, and it takes everything in me not to
pull her lips down over mine.

“God, Coop,” she whispers. “You didn’t sell
your soul to help me, did you?”

I press out a dull laugh and turn my face
into her palm with a kiss.

“No. I promise you, no soul selling took
place. Now, tell me what happened when you went inside.”

“There was this girl”—she jabs a quick
glance out the window—“she’s beautiful, her name was, Skylar?” She
searches her memory as if it were just out of reach.

“Skyla,” I nod. “I met her when you
left.”

“
Coop
.” She grips my hands. “She knew
me.”

“How did she know you?”

“She said she found me in the Transfer. That
she tried to save me, and it didn’t work.”

“She tried to save you?” I search Laken’s
face as if it might have the answers. “Laken, she said she knew me,
too.”

“From that lab? The Transfer?”

“She didn’t say, but if that were true I’d
remember her.”

Laken wraps an arm around my shoulder with
her lips a breath away from mine.

This is it, do or die. I push in just a
hair, and see if she’ll bite.

Come on, Laken—bite, just this once.

I try to hide the lewd grin begging to take
over. In a minute, there will be something in my jeans a hell of a
lot harder to hide especially with her nestling over it.

“Um…” She glances down and clears her
throat. “Maybe you can use that supervising spirit of yours, and we
could go and ask Skyla a few questions?” She presses her lips
together while sinking a glance at my mouth. “Then, of course, we
can come right back, and we could figure the rest out later.” Her
chest pumps in and out like she just sprinted for miles.

“The rest out later,” it surges from me
barely audible, heated, just this side of insane. I take in a
breath, trying to break out of my hormonal stupor. “Yes. Let’s do
this. They mentioned a place called Paragon.”

“Wes says they’re two years from the
future.”

“Okay.” I glance around the room, Edinger
said to think about it and believe—he’d do the rest.

Edinger
? Laken laces her fingers
through mine.
I should have figured. I won’t say a word.

I give a faint smile and touch my thumb to
her cheek.
You’re so damn beautiful. One day I’m going to make
you mine.

Laken lowers her lashes, and her cheeks
explode a dark shade of crimson.

I think I’m already yours, Coop
.

My heart thumps wild. I do a mental
freeze-frame of Laken with the blush on her cheeks just for me, and
my spirit skyrockets.

“Are you ready to go to Paragon?” I bring
her hand to my lips and press in a kiss.

She gives a slight nod. “Skyla Messenger,
here we come.”

Wesley

The night drags on like some warped dream. I
scour the campus for any signs of lingering Spectators, but mostly
for Coop or Laken before heading back to Austen House. The scent of
vanilla lies thick in the air and reminds me of Laken, the sweet
smell of her hair. I know every last part of her. I could sketch
her with my eyes closed right down to the very last curve of her
effortless smile if I wanted. I’ve memorized her completely.

Moans emit from the couch, and my stomach
lurches. Swear to God, if I find Coop trying to get lucky with her,
I’m going to rearrange some body parts. I swoop over and spot Jen
and Blaine getting busy, and my entire person sighs with relief.
Blaine’s got his mouth planted over hers as if he’s trying to shove
a sword down her throat.

I rattle a bowl of Halloween candy, and they
snap to attention.

“Still no sign of her?” Jen makes a face.
“I’ll kill her as soon as she gets in. Are you sure she’s with
Cooper?”

I couldn’t help but share my theory. It felt
like I had my heart yanked out of my ass on more than a few
occasions tonight. Worst Halloween ever.

“I’m sure.”

“Sorry, man.” Blaine pinches his eyes as if
he’s trying to stay awake. “There are other fish in the sea.” My
brother’s attempt to calm me with his dime store analogy makes my
stomach turn.

“There better not be for you.” Jen bites him
on the nose playfully. “Sometimes there’s just one person, and you
need to let them go to see if they’ll come back on their own.”

“And sometimes”—Blaine raises his brows,
never taking his eyes off hers—“you need to fight like hell to make
sure you stay together.”

Fight like hell.

I speed out into the night. Cooper Flanders
is about to have one hell of a fight because I’ll be damned if I
lose Laken, and I mean that in the most literal sense.

“Edinger dammit, do your thing,” I shout
into the powder white fog. “I’m desperate,” I tone it down to a
whisper. “I need to see Laken.” I’ve asked him for favors before.
I’ve begged him for things and have been denied, but I swear I’ll
be eternally grateful if he comes through this time.

I close my eyes and think of her—imagine
where she’s been, what she might be doing. The ground shifts
beneath me. I’m already despondent by what I might see when I
arrive.

Only in my nightmares is she going at it
with Coop. And at the rate my nightmares have been playing out, it
wouldn’t surprise me to see just that.

Blaine’s words come back to me like a
cliffside echo. I need to fight like hell.

I’ll never let Flanders win her heart while
I still have breath in my body, or I’m not Wesley Paxton.

My back lands hard on soggy soil as if a
giant picked me up and tossed me to the ground.

“Thanks a lot.” I groan as I stagger to my
feet. A light veil of fog drifts by like smoke. It’s damp and cold,
and for a second I think maybe I’m still at Ephemeral.

A row of crosses erect themselves from out
of the ground, then a series of bulbous granite half-moons, each
with their own inscription.

“Holy shit.” I take a step back at the
strange sight. A freaking cemetery? This is Flanders’ destination
date?

I turn to take in the landscape, and a fresh
mound of dirt snags my attention.

“Crap,” I whisper. Who knows what grave
robbing scheme they’ve hooked themselves into? Maybe I don’t have
to worry about Flanders taking her to bed. If the misdemeanors keep
piling up, the only place he’s going to land her is prison.

I circle around the mess and glance down at
the massive hole to find a dirt-riddled casket staring back at
me.

I glance up at the stone inscription, and my
heart bottoms out.

Wesley Adam Parker

What the hell kind of Halloween prank is
this? Would Coop stoop this far to get into her pants? What the
hell kind of demented idiot is he?

I glance around for clues, for
reality
, but there’s nothing for miles with the exception of
motel light blinking on and off in the distance.
Cider Plains
Inn. Free Internet. HBO.

Cider Plains?

An image of a ranch house, with a large barn
in the back, bounces in and out of my mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and
that hole in the ground pulsates like it’s itching to swallow me in
one easy bite.

“What the hell,” I say, slipping into the
open mouth of the earth. “Let do this,” I hiss, pulling back the
casket.

A pang of terror hits me like a train. A
familiar face stares back at me, and I stumble as far as the dirt
will allow.

“Shit!” I slam it shut as if the corpse
inside were fighting its way out. My heart races—both my body and
mind go numb. “There’s no way she was right.” I slip the coffin
back open and force myself to stare at the monster that bears my
resemblance.

A thousand excuses stream through my mind on
why in the hell I’ve got a lookalike buried in a town called Cider
Plains. Each excuse disintegrates to nothing. Every road to reason
congests with the ugly truth forming around me.

I reach down to touch him, and my hand draws
back like it met up with a snake.

His fingers have been gnawed off. I lean in
a little closer. Snapped off? I touch his flesh, insert my finger
in the hollow fold of his hand.

Shit.

“It’s a fake.” I huff a quiet laugh. My
heart pulsates through my ears. My brain rattles around like a
Ping-Pong from the fear and elation picking up steam. “A fucking
fake.” I pull back his jacket, tear open his shirt and pound my
fist through his hollow mannequin body. Wesley Parker was nothing
but a cheap imitation. He never existed and never will. I knew it.
And, now, maybe Laken, knows it too.

A white square catches my attention, peering
out from the inside pocket. It’s a picture. I pluck it out and hold
it up under the pristine moon glaring down from above.

A breath gets caught in my lungs. It feels
as if all of gravity is pressing down over my shoulders.

It’s Laken and me in the parking lot just
behind the snack shack. Fletcher is in the background, photo
bombing the picture with his hands spread wide, the fake look of
surprise plastered across his face. I’m in my football uniform, and
she’s kissing me with her leg hiked up in the back like she did
tonight with Coop.

I give a dull laugh. Then, in a moment, the
world changes—the air, the fertile soil, the light scent of a storm
on its way—it all feels far too familiar.

I don’t play football. Ephemeral doesn’t
have a snack shack.

The word
Hedgehogs
is emblazed on the
side of the helmet that dangles from my hand.

“What the hell?” I mouth the words, rubbing
my thumb over the tiny print as if it might somehow magically
change the image. I look up at the blank night sky and think of
Laken. Where are you?

I close my eyes—try to focus my energy on
where they might have gone next, and I can feel the scenery
transform around me.

My feet land on solid ground, a door with
the number 15 emblazoned on the front appears before me.

A large red sign blinks spastic to my left.
Cider Plains Motel
.

I glance out at the area. The old mill with
its archaic silos in the distance, the bridle trail to the left of
the street—I recognize this place. My head explodes in a
photographic seizure as an entire series of still-lifes flash
before my eyes. It all comes back to me in snatches. Laken and me
in the park holding hands, a poor man’s bouquet of dehydrated maple
leaves cleverly hidden behind my back. Fletch and me in an entire
montage to childhood—t-ball, running, fishing in a lake that would
one day change our destinies.

My body begins to tremble as I take it all
in. A fissure opened in my mind and now a flood, an entirely
different existence is filling in the cracks. All of those thoughts
that wadded just beneath the surface, those strange dreams that
haunted me, those feelings of not quite belonging, all of them
explained in an instance.

I launch my body against the door and begin
kicking my way inside.

“Laken!” My voice echoes through the still
of the night like thunder.

A car alarm goes off in the distance, taking
up the slack for the rest of the world. All of creation should
scream for the injustice that’s happening here. There isn’t enough
rage in the world to convey how I feel.

I push into the door with my arm and think
of Coop defiling her with his body until my Countenance strength
kicks in. The door flies open as if it didn’t want the beating to
continue.

The lights are on, but the room sits
empty.

“Laken?” I bolt to the bathroom and throw
back the shower curtain.

They’re gone.

I stagger back into the room and note the
bedding looks rumpled, but nothing that indicates anything
serious.

Maybe there’s still time to tell her she’s
right—that I’m going to fight like hell to make sure we stay
together.

I close my eyes and think of her, of where
she might be and feel myself slipping away.