Soultaker (18 page)

But he stayed where he was. He stared some more at the television. The sensational coverage brought to mind previous tragedies, the mass killings at Columbine and Virginia Tech, and he was struck by how surreal it was to have a personal connection to one of these televised real-life dramas. And he thought some more about his responsibilities to Trey. For the first time since arriving in Rockville, he allowed himself to think about the year of sobriety he’d flushed down the drain. He thought of AA meetings. He remembered reciting the Serenity Prayer while holding hands in a circle. And he recalled the new sense of confidence and peace that had come into his life during that year.

Gone, now.

The most important accomplishment of his adult life and he’d trashed it, surrendering himself to the darkness again with hardly a struggle.

Two days had elapsed.

Two drops in a very large bucket.

Nothing, really.

He could reverse the damage. He could get back on track.
He was sober,
right now
, and he could stay that way if he so chose. If he had the strength.

He heard a door slam somewhere in the house, then a jangle of keys, and he turned toward the kitchen.

“I’m home!”

Jake smiled.

Kristen
.

Just knowing she was here made him feel better. He looked forward to holding her again. To kissing her. To, yes, making love with her. He felt a twinge of guilt, but this time it had little power. There was nothing wrong with the way she made him feel. Nothing wrong at all with how much he desired her. Not really. They’d known each other only a very short time, true, but the intense, instant chemistry between them rendered that meaningless. And Kristen was right. There was nothing wrong in giving yourself over to passion. And losing yourself in a new romance was certainly a better way to escape reality than booze.

He called out to her: “I’m in the living room!”

She came into the room through the archway behind him. The faint whiff of perfume that preceded her intensified his desire for her. She leaned over the recliner, kissed his cheek, and said, “I missed you.”

Jake smiled. “I missed you, too.”

Kristen’s mouth went to his ear. Her warm breath felt good on his skin. “I have a present for you.”

Jake turned to look at her, his smile growing wider. “Yeah?”

There was a hint of mischief in her smile. She placed a beer can in his hand, popping the tab for him. “I made it just for you.” She laughed.

Jake’s smile stayed frozen in place a moment, then it slowly faded. He eyed the can with the wariness of a soldier preparing to pull the pin on a grenade for the first time. He opened his mouth, intending to tell her he didn’t feel like drinking to night, that he was too tired. A lame excuse, yes. A way of biding time. Jake recognized this as slippery-slope thinking, a strong indication that his newfound conviction wasn’t really a
conviction at all—it was just a fleeting, insubstantial fancy, an illusion of strength. It was ludicrous, really. His whole life served as a vivid illustration of how little mental toughness he possessed.

He closed his mouth without saying anything.

Kristen slid into the recliner with him, slipping an arm around his neck and curling her legs up on his lap. There was another open can of beer in her left hand. She took a swig from it, seemed to savor the beer a moment, then swallowed it with a sound of pleasure. She smiled. “What do you say we get drunk and screw all night?”

Jake managed a strained chuckle. “To paraphrase Jimmy Buffet, that great American poet.”

Kristen giggled and swallowed some more beer. “Let’s waste away again in Rockville!”

Jake looked into her dark eyes and immediately felt again that erotic hunger that had been there before. He ran a hand through her raven black hair. “You are so beautiful, Kristen.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gee, haven’t heard that one before.”

His fingertips glided along her delicate jawline. “You’re like something out of a dream. Like something that can’t be real. An angel come to life.”

Her expression grew more solemn. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Wow.” She spoke in an awed whisper, and there was a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Her face darkened a little. “Please tell me that’s not a rehearsed speech you give every girl.”

“No. It’s just for you.”

“Jake…”

“Yes?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

She kissed him. Jake wouldn’t have thought it possible, but this clinch was more intense, more passionate, than every previous kiss they’d shared. The pleasure seemed to touch every nerve ending in his body. He knew he could lose himself in this girl. Completely. Forever.

Kristen broke the kiss off and knocked back another swallow of beer. She disengaged herself from Jake and got to her feet. She stood before him and finished off her beer. “Drink.” The word was a command, not a request. “Drink, then ravage me.”

She laughed.

Jake looked at the beer can he was holding. He had almost forgotten about it. He looked again at Kristen, who was unbuttoning her blouse. She tugged the blouse open, and his heart raced a little at the sight of the smooth, flat expanse of her belly. Then his gaze went to her full breasts, displayed to devastating effect in a pretty, frilly black bra. She shot a pointed glance at his still-full beer, then pooched out her lower lip and pouted.

“Don’t you want me, Jake?”

Jake swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

The beer can came to his mouth. He turned it up, and his throat bobbed several times as he swallowed the can’s entire contents.

Kristen’s pout became a smile. “Good boy.” She crooked a finger at him. “Now, get over here.”

Jake put the empty can down and shakily got to his feet.

Kristen pulled him into an embrace. She bit his lower lip and drew it into her mouth for a moment. “Mmm.” She dipped a hand into his jeans, gripped his growing erection. She made a sound like a growl low in her throat. “I’ve waited long enough.” Her upper lip curled in a way that made Jake shiver. “And now I’m gonna eat you alive.”

Outside, a crow was perched on a windowsill.

It studied Kristen’s unsubtle seduction of Jake through a blind slat bent crooked.

After a time, it flapped its wings, rose away from the house, and flew into the night.

“I want to kill her.”

Zack Bishop, Rockville High’s starting quarterback and prom king, set down the issue of
Maxim
he’d been reading and looked at his girlfriend. “You shouldn’t talk that way, Cin. People might think you’re serious, then you’d be in even more trouble.”

Cindy Wells stood in front of the mirror above Zack’s desk, regarding with disgust the imperfect image reflected there. The bandage affixed to her nose marred an otherwise flawless countenance. She had a beautiful face. A model’s face, as so many had told her, with high cheekbones, big blue eyes, a graceful jawline, and imminently kissable lips. Until this morning, her nose had been perfect. Narrow and graceful. Now it was a bent, broken thing, a boxer’s nose.

The rest of her still looked wonderful. Her clothes, a sleeveless, lime green top and a sleek miniskirt, showed off her svelte body to stunning effect. She had a long, slender neck (which her mother variously described as “swanlike” or “like Audrey Hepburn”), long, shapely legs, and a perfectly contoured figure. All topped off by a flowing mane of lustrous blonde hair. She’d been the school’s reigning beauty.

But not anymore.

Now I’m a beast
, she thought.

Until now, Cindy had never considered herself shallow.
She was self-aware enough to know she was exceptionally beautiful, but she’d accepted this as a simple fact of her existence, an asset, certainly, but not a thing that elevated her above other people. She took more pride in her intelligence and academic achievements. Her GPA was a rock-solid 4.0. She was gifted in math and science. She also had a passion for literature, and she’d displayed talent as a writer of fiction. She had long been torn between, on the one hand, accepting a scholarship at a school renowned for its science programs and, on the other hand, attending a school known for producing accomplished artists and writers.

None of these things mattered at the moment.

She applied the tip of a finger to her damaged nose and winced. Her upper lip curled, further marring the image of beauty. Anger flared inside her again. And the real thing, not just teenage petulance. Raw, burning fury. She imagined her hands wrapped around Myra Lewis’s scrawny neck and she clenched her fists. She could almost feel that fragile flesh collapsing beneath the force of her righteous wrath. This frightened her, mostly because giving herself over to anger was such a new and strange thing for her, but she was close to embracing it.

She glanced at the stacks of
Maxim
magazines next to Zack’s bed. She’d always regarded the beautiful, busty women on the covers with a mixture of pity and disgust. Women who displayed their bodies for profit, whether they were Parisian supermodels or porno “actresses,” were little better than whores. Or so Cindy had always believed.

Beauty is power
, she thought.

The truth of it struck her hard. Her looks
had
made her special. They
had
made her better than all the other girls. And they had granted her some degree of power over nearly everyone she had ever encountered. Extra-special emphasis on the past tense, however, because fucking Myra Lewis had ruined much of that power with one blow.

She turned away from the mirror. “I mean it.” She stalked
over to the bed and stood glaring down at Zack. “I want to kill the bitch.”

Zack frowned. “You’re scaring me a little, Cin.” He sat up, clasped hands with Cindy, and drew her near. He sighed. “This isn’t easy to say, but…look, I know you told me you didn’t provoke Myra in any way, and I want to believe you, but it just doesn’t make any sense. I can’t believe you’d get a suspension for no good reason.”

Cindy fumed. It took all her willpower not to strike Zack. “What are you accusing me of, Zack? Are you saying I’m a liar?”

Zack flinched. “No. I’m just…well, not exactly.”

“What!?”

Zack swallowed a lump in his throat. Cindy thought she saw fear in his eyes. A part of her, she was stunned to discover, enjoyed seeing it. It made her feel powerful again. It was particularly gratifying that the man in question was Rockville High’s king stud. She wondered how he’d react to a backhand across the face. The thought stunned her—but only for a moment.

And Zack sensed the hostility. He let go of her hands and scooted backward on the bed, putting some distance between them. “Jesus, Cin, relax. Obviously I’m not calling you a liar.” He shrugged, and looked at her with a helpless expression. “Maybe…I’m sorry, I know I’m not saying this right. But maybe you offended her in some way you don’t know about. Some offhanded comment she took to heart, maybe.”

Cindy sneered. “Are you fucking serious? You dick. You’re calling me thoughtless.”

“No, I’m not.” Zack seemed to become a little more sure of himself. “And I’m really about done talking about this. You’re in some weird kind of denial, Cin. I think you did say something to that girl, maybe something really out of character for you, something mean. And maybe you feel so guilty about it you can’t acknowledge the truth. Christ, Cindy, girls like you don’t get suspended without a really good reason. And now this crazy talk about wanting to kill Myra. It scares me.” His
voice had grown solemn. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a few days. Just until you’ve had some time to really think and deal with all this.”

Cindy gaped at him, unable to believe what she’d just heard. Sudden tears welled in her eyes. “Zack, no…”

He looked away from her. “I’m sorry, Cindy. But it has to be this way. Please leave. Now.”

Cindy’s anger surged back to the surface, burning through her tears and setting her hand in motion before she knew what she was doing. Her palm smacked hard across Zack’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and leaving him dazed long enough for her to continue the assault. She picked up the magazine he’d discarded, rolled it up tight, and battered him about the head with it until he at last managed to snatch it away from her and seize her by the wrists.

“What’s wrong with you!?” he screamed.

Cindy struggled in his grip. She ached to strike him again. Slapping him had felt good, but it hadn’t been enough. Swatting him around with the magazine had felt even better, but even that had fallen short of completely satisfying. The terror and confusion in his bugged-out eyes sent a pleas ur able shudder through her. This new urge to do violence was intoxicating.

No…that wasn’t quite the real truth of it.

Hell
, she thought,
it turned me on
.

Her nipples had stiffened. And she was wet
down there
.

She recognized this reaction as wrong and probably crazy, but she didn’t care.

She
loved
it.

She thrashed against Zack and eventually managed to wrest one hand free. Her thumb and middle finger went to his eyes and began to press. Zack yelped and leaped away from her. He picked up one of his athletic trophies and brandished it like a club. “You stay away from me, you crazy bitch!”

Cindy got off the bed, clasped her hands behind her back, and began to move toward him, rolling her hips and
arching her back so that her breasts jutted. “Come on, Zacky baby. You’re not afraid of little ol’ me?” She laughed. “Are you?”

Zack’s expression was grim. “Don’t take another step. I’ll bash your brains in, I swear to God.”

Cindy shook her head in mock disappointment. “Look at you. A big, strong boy like you waving that trophy thingy at me. Don’t you bench-press two or three times my weight, Zack? What could I do to you?”

Zack took a step backward. His back met the wall. “You’re a fucking psycho. What an actress you are, Cindy. I can’t believe I never saw how completely fucking nuts you are.” His voice grew hoarse with emotion. “I loved you. Please…don’t make me hurt you. Please stay back.”