One Hundred Candles [2] (15 page)

“Why? My mom was helping Gwyn’s mom. You didn’t need me.”

Harris sighed. “We didn’t know that. Gwyn’s mom moved out a few months ago. Gwyn hasn’t had a lot of contact with her.”

I gave a short, bitter laugh. “So I guess you never really needed me, after all.”

“Sorry.” It was a whispered apology.

“I have to know,” I said, my mind still struggling to assemble all the pieces. “How did you pull off the cell phone thing?”

He looked perplexed. “That wasn’t us, I swear.”

I could hear Lisa talking to Beth. I looked over at them and locked eyes with Gwyn, who was watching Harris and me from across the room.

“So I guess you two got everything you wanted,” I murmured. “And now you can go back to being a happy couple.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you’re great, I really do. And I like you, but…”

“But you love Gwyn,” I finished.

He gave me a helpless look. “Sorry.”

I was done with his apologies. “Do me a favor,” I said. “Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me. Stay out of my way and out of sight for the rest of the year, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.” I thought he would put up at least a little resistance, or insist that we be friends. The fact that he didn’t made me feel even worse.

I turned my back on him and walked out the door and into the warm night. I made it to the car without crying, but once I got into the passenger seat, it all came out: my anger at Harris and Gwyn, my disappointment in myself for not seeing what was going on and, finally, the awful and utter pain of my wounded heart.

The driver’s-side door opened and Noah slid into his seat. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said. I nodded and tried to stifle my tears. It was a clear night and I knew that if I craned my neck and looked out the window, I would see a hundred stars.

And that would break my heart even more.

twenty

He made me tea. As soon as we got back to my house, Noah ordered me to sit on the sofa. Then he brought me a pillow and blankets from the guest room and found the kettle, boiled water and brought me a steaming mug of Calming Chamomile.

“I’m not sick,” I protested.

Noah sat next to me on the sofa. “Yeah, I know, but this is what I do for my mom whenever she breaks up with a guy.”

“I didn’t break up with Harris. He broke up with me.” I sipped my drink. I normally didn’t like tea, but Noah had added sugar, so it tasted good.

“His loss,” Noah said softly.

“You think?” I set down my cup on the coffee table. I knew Harris would have no trouble moving on. He was probably wrapped around Gwyn at that exact moment, telling her how there was no one else in the world for him and reassuring her that we had shared nothing but hollow kisses.

“Hey.” Noah cupped my chin in his hand. “I mean it. It’s his loss. You are amazing. Truly, completely amazing.”

I wanted to believe him, I really did. But if he thought I was so amazing, why had he turned cold at homecoming? Why couldn’t Noah be my first boyfriend? I decided in that moment that I had nothing to lose. If I told him my true feelings and he rejected me, it wouldn’t be so bad. It would just be one more bruise to my heart, and maybe I could spend the next few weeks mending my emotions.

“Noah,” I began. His hand was still under my chin, holding it up lightly. I looked into his green eyes, and before I could change my mind, I leaned in and kissed him. He was definitely surprised. But he moved his hands to my back and pulled me closer. I had to keep myself from smiling.

He was the first to break our kiss. “Wow. Okay, that was…unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”

He sat back, but kept one arm around me. “Excellent unexpected,” he decided. But he looked worried.

“What is it?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Was that your way of getting back at Harris?”

“No!” I reached out for his hands. “I mean, yes, I’m upset about Harris, but he made me realize that you’re the one I want to be with. I like you. I’ve always liked you. But after homecoming, you seemed so distant.”

“Yeah. I know.” He sighed. “You may not remember this, but while we were dancing you started talking about Shane and my mom. I realized that if they broke up, it could be weird for us. Their relationship was so new, and it seemed like the wrong time for us to start something.” He offered me a tiny smile. “And I wasn’t sure if you liked me as a friend or as something more.”

“Let me be clear, then—I like you as something more.”

We kissed again, longer this time. He tasted like cinnamon and felt warm. I think I could have stayed there for hours, but the hallway clock chimed eleven.

“It’s really late,” Noah said. He traced a finger around my top lip.

“Almost the start of a new day,” I agreed. “Thank you for making this a really, really good day.”

“Let’s try to make it a great day,” he murmured as he leaned in for another kiss.

I let my fingers get tangled in his hair. I allowed myself to be completely absorbed in the moment, which was a wonderful, crazy moment. I let myself feel…happy.

“Charlotte? Are you here?” It was my dad. He was in the kitchen and must have come through the back door. I snapped back from Noah, reached for my mug of tea and hoped my face wasn’t flushed from all the kissing.

“In here, Dad!” I yelled. Noah was busy trying to look like the only thing we’d been doing was discussing politics. He crossed one leg over the other and actually folded his hands in his lap.

“Charlotte!” Dad sounded relieved yet anxious. “I’m so glad I found you. Where’s your mother?”

“She’s still at Gwyn’s—I mean, Lisa’s house,” I said. “Is everything okay?” Obviously, it was not. My first thought was that something had happened to Annalise.

“Get your stuff,” Dad said. He opened the hall closet and grabbed some jackets. “We need to leave.”

“Why? Dad, what’s going on?” I shared a worried glance with Noah. Dad didn’t seem to even register that Noah was there. We heard someone at the back door. Dad froze. Then it opened and Mom came in.

“Why was the back door locked?” she asked.

“Karen.” Dad dropped his armful of jackets. “I got a message today. I’ve been looking for you.”

“A message?” Mom had a quizzical smile on her face.

“Zelden’s in the hospital. In New Zealand. He was attacked several days ago.”

Mom’s smile dissolved. “No.”

“He was conscious today, and asked one of the hospital staff to call me. He said that the amethyst was broken.”

The amethyst is broken.
Zelden had called me in Charleston and said the same thing. He’d asked me to tell my parents, but I hadn’t because it seemed so silly and everyone was getting along so well.

“Charlotte, Noah, let’s go. We have to get out of here.” Mom had her keys and was walking through the kitchen. “We’ll take two cars,” she told Dad.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on!” I yelled louder than I should have, but seeing my parents operating in panic mode was freaking me out.

Mom stopped. “Zelden is trying to warn us,” she said. “That was our code.
The amethyst is broken
means that Marcus knows where we are and is on his way here.” She looked at my dad. “It also means that Zelden’s in distress. How long has he been in the hospital?”

I remembered Zelden’s voice when he’d called me. Except for a lot of coughing, he’d sounded okay. But if he was trying to pass along a coded message, maybe Marcus had been right there. I could see it: Marcus holding the phone to Zelden’s ear, commanding him to speak normally and tell me everything was fine.
It was nice to have met you,
Zelden had said at the end of the call. Why hadn’t I realized how final that sounded? Marcus had likely attacked Zelden the moment after he hung up the phone.

“Zelden’s been hospitalized for five days now,” Dad said grimly.

“That’s more than enough time for Marcus to find a way from New Zealand to South Carolina. We’ll head to Charleston, get Annalise and figure out an escape plan on the way. Noah, you’re coming with us. We’ll have your mom and Shane meet us.”

I plucked my purse off the coffee table and retrieved my necklace from inside. My hands were shaking as I tried to clasp the amethyst around my neck. Noah noticed and clasped it for me. As soon as the purple rock touched my skin, something happened. It began to quiver. I curled my hand around it, and the rock buzzed, like I was trying to hold a bee.

“Back door’s locked!” Dad hollered. “We’re leaving.”

As we made our way toward the front door, the lights flickered. Mom stopped, her hand on the doorknob. The lights flickered again and then went out completely. We stood in the dark. I could hear Dad breathing. “I’m getting a flashlight,” he said quietly. “Karen, lock the door.”

I heard the click of the lock and the sound of Dad rummaging through a kitchen drawer. I was having a hard time adjusting to the blackness. It was too dark, I thought. Usually the streetlights cast a little glow into the house.

“Dining room,” Mom whispered. “Now.” She held my hand and I held Noah’s. My leg bumped into the sofa. I sat down with Noah, but Mom went to the window and pulled back a corner of the curtain.

“The whole street’s out,” she announced.

Dad came back with the flashlight, but he cupped his hand over it so there wasn’t a beam. He stood next to Mom. “What is that?” he whispered. There was fear in his voice. “Is that…is that a dog?”

I had to see. I got up and pushed my way in between Mom and Dad. Our street was cloaked in black, so it was difficult to spot anything. I saw something in the middle of the road, a lumbering dark shape moving slowly. It looked like a large, wounded animal. Something about its staggered movement wasn’t right, and its front legs were too long.

I kept staring, trying to make sense of the thing in the road. It lifted its head, sniffed and then turned in our direction. I saw a wide smile spread across its face. I saw the white teeth and the black eyes and I knew that it wasn’t an animal crawling on all fours.

It was Marcus.

twenty-one

There was no time to register the fact that a grown man was crawling across the street and into our front yard. Within seconds, he was pounding on the front door.

“Char—lotte,” he sang out in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Time to come out, princess.” It was the voice I remembered, the awful blend of male and female and something else. Demon, I guessed. “Be a good girl, Charlotte. Didn’t you like my roses?”

I sucked in my breath. Of course. The thirteen roses I had placed on my nightstand, foolishly thinking Harris had sent them.

The Watcher coughed. “I tried calling you, Charlotte.”

The cell phones at school. Noah was right—the four digits were a date. It was now past midnight. It was April 13.

“Back door,” Mom whispered.

We bolted through the foyer and into the kitchen. But when Dad flung open the door, there was Marcus, leaning against the doorframe and panting. Mom screamed. Dad slammed the door shut and pushed his body against it so he could turn the dead bolt. The door shook as Marcus tried to break it down. Mom grabbed me by one arm and ran to the living room. Noah was right behind us.

“Here.” Mom tossed Noah her car keys. “You two get out of here as soon as you can.” She grabbed the iron poker that was propped against the fireplace we never used. “We’ll distract him.”

“Mom, no!” I was frantic. “We should all go together! I’m not leaving anyone behind!”

She fixed her gaze on Noah. “Get her out of here. No matter what happens, you two need to get out. Find a safe haven. Go to—” Her voice was drowned out by Dad.

“He’s almost in!” he yelled from the kitchen.

Mom reached into her pocket and checked her cell phone. Its blue light lit up her face in the dark room. “No service. Call the police when you’re away from the house.”

“I’m not leaving you!” I screamed.

We heard a loud crack. Dad grunted as the door came down. He staggered into the living room and Mom rushed to his side. “Honey?”

Dad was holding his head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Marcus stood in the arched doorway separating the kitchen from the living room, panting heavily. Dad had ushered us as far back as he could, so that our backs were against the computer tables. Mom chanted something, her shaking voice growing louder, until Marcus laughed.

“That one doesn’t work on me.”

“You are not welcome here!” Dad yelled. “You must leave now!”

“That doesn’t work, either.” Marcus took a step forward. He seemed to be having trouble with his legs, like he wasn’t in complete control of them.

“What are you?” Dad asked. His voice held both awe and revulsion. “Are you a demon?”

Again, Marcus laughed. It was a hideous sound, an inhuman cackle. “No, I am not a demon.” He spoke slowly. “I’m something much, much worse.”

He smiled. It was unnatural, as if invisible hands were pulling back both sides of his face, stretching the skin past normal limits. His black eyes scanned the four of us before resting on Noah. “I do not know this one,” he said. I locked my fingers in Noah’s. He gave them a little squeeze.

Marcus looked at us again, but this time he smiled at my dad. “I know this one,” he said. “We’ve met before.”

“What?” Dad sounded genuinely mystified.

“I believe you mean,
pardon me?
”

Dad gasped. He had spent years trying to identify the entity that had passed before him in a deserted jail, years examining footage and returning to the site trying to discover what had interacted with him. “It was you?” he whispered.

Marcus bowed slightly. “In the flesh.” He cackled at his own little joke. “I have followed you for years. I have been waiting for one of you to push back the curtain too far.”

“What do you want from us?” Mom demanded.

“I want her.” Marcus pointed a finger at me.

“Never.” Mom’s voice was stone. There was a certain finality in it that a normal person would never doubt. Unfortunately, Marcus was not a normal person. He wasn’t even a person. I saw Dad reach one hand behind his back. Mom slipped the fireplace poker into his hand, then wrapped one arm around me and the other around Noah. My necklace was still buzzing, but now it seemed so loud that I was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

“Get out,” Dad said again. “I don’t care what you are. You were not invited into our home.”

“I do not require an invitation.” Marcus stepped forward again, this time leaning heavily on his right leg. “I require punishment. The girl will be punished for what she witnessed. She crossed a line.”

“So have you.” Dad charged forward, holding the iron poker like it was a baseball bat. He swung hard at Marcus’s head, but it wasn’t enough. Marcus raised one hand to block the blow. Then he plucked the poker from Dad’s hands, pulled back and rammed it against Dad’s chest.

The supernatural force of the blow sent Dad flying—literally—into the dining room. His head slammed against the wall with a muffled thump and he landed on the floor like a crumpled piece of paper.

“No!” Mom sprinted across the living room and knelt beside Dad. Noah and I were right behind her. It was awful to watch Mom as she cradled Dad’s head and put two fingers to his neck. “There’s a pulse,” she said, choking back tears.

Marcus shuffled into the room. It looked like he was dragging his body, as if he was trying hard to control it. After a few labored steps, he groaned and swayed to one side. The lights flickered on, but they were dim.

“He’s losing strength,” Mom whispered. “Noah, get her out of here.”

But Noah was standing up, his fists clenched. “Leave them alone.” His voice was hoarse and determined.

Marcus took another wobbly step forward. “This is not your concern.” His black eyes scanned the room and rested on me. His wide, weird smile emerged again. Noah tackled Marcus from the side, throwing his body at him. And, al though Marcus appeared weak, he responded to the attack with only a low grunt and a flick of his hand. Noah was knocked to the floor.

“No!” I wanted to go to him, but Noah was already getting to his feet. Marcus rolled his head from side to side, then leaned against a chair. Deflecting Noah had momentarily drained him again.

“Please,” Mom said to Noah. “You have to get Charlotte away from here.”

He nodded at her, then grabbed my arm and started guiding me toward the front door. I struggled against him. “I’m not leaving without them!” I shrieked. Marcus turned his head in my direction. I could see his eyes more clearly now, the way the black swallowed up everything else.

“I will find you. No matter where you go, I will find you.”

It was difficult to break his vacant stare. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom crawl across the floor. She was reaching for something. I kept my gaze on Marcus, hoping it was enough to distract him. He began to move toward me, but I stayed where I was. Mom stood up, and I saw she had the poker. She used both hands and thrust it forward, spearing Marcus in the back.

He howled. It was a long, painful cry. He staggered to the side, then ripped the iron out of his back and turned on Mom. She backed away, trying to put distance between her and Marcus, but also away from Dad. I wanted to run to her, to seize Marcus by his legs and just pull. He was standing directly over her, the poker grasped in both hands, and was ready to plunge it downward. Mom looked up at him, her eyes wide and desperate, then turned her head and looked at me. As Marcus brought the poker down with his full, awful force, Mom screamed at me.

“Get out of here, Charlotte! Find the safe haven!”

They were the last words my mother spoke to me.