The Collector (9 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Pissed-off Demon

Every muscle in my body tightens, and I shoot up from my desk.

“Mr. Walker?” the teacher asks.

I glance at her, then back at the TV. My gut tells me to go to the journalism room.
Now.

“Mr. Walker,” the teacher says more forcefully. “Is something wrong?”

I watch as Charlie shuffles some papers in front of her. She’s smiling, but the corners of her mouth twitch wildly.

“Dude, you’re blocking my view.” I turn around and see a guy with greasy hair munching Doritos. His eyes are glassy, and he’s obviously been hittin’ some medicinal marijuana. He laughs, and his bloodshot eyes narrow. “Dude, what’s
wrong
with you?” He laughs again.

I grab the open book on my desk and make a move to leave. But Charlie’s voice stops me.

“Hello, and good afternoon. I’m reporting live from Centennial’s prestigious journalism headquarters.” She accentuates the word
prestigious,
and people in the class laugh. I saw the room she’s in with my very own eyes. It was four walls and a busted-ass table.

She made a funny. Charlie Cooper actually made a funny.

“Dude!” Stoner Guy says.

I glance at him again, then sink down into my seat.

Charlie grins into the camera, and her voice pitches higher. “We’ve got lots going on this week, so grab your notebooks, poise your pens, and get ready to blow a solid ten minutes of class time.”

Someone whoops next to me, and I have to raise a fist to my mouth to cover the huge smile I’m wearing.
Get it, girl!

For the next few minutes, Charlie lists off upcoming football games, student council meetings, and something about bus schedules—all with a dose of wit and charm.

I keep glancing around to see if everyone sees what I do. This isn’t the same girl I’ve known the last four days. She’s confident. She’s eloquent. She’s…not Charlie. I narrow my eyes and lean forward. I notice she’s staring slightly to her left.

Ah, cue cards. That explains it.

Charlie lays the last sheet of paper off to her right, signaling that she’s done with the broadcast. “I’ll close with the most exciting part of today’s broadcast, the Halloween dance!”

More whoops around the classroom.

“As you know, it’ll be held in the gymnasium. We’ll be selling tickets during lunch all week. So don’t forget to buy yours, or you’ll be left dateless like me.”

Charlie stops. Her smile falters, but she quickly recovers. “I would know…only ugly losers…” She stops reading the cue cards. Then she gazes right into the camera and freezes.

People in the classroom laugh nervously.

Taylor. She messed with the cue cards. I should have known.
I should’ve known!

I bolt from my desk and run for the door.

Behind me, I hear the teacher yelling my name, but there’s no way I’m stopping this time. My sneakers thump against the floor as I run down the hallway, into the cafeteria, and down another, longer corridor. I’m heading to the journalism room, but I stop suddenly when I hear the sound of quick footsteps coming from the closest bathroom. Somehow I know it’s her.

The bathroom doesn’t have a door, just an entrance that turns sharply so you can’t see inside. I don’t even check to see if anyone’s watching. I just go halfway in, knock on the wall, and say, “Charlie? You in here?”

The footsteps stop briefly.

Yep. It’s gotta be her.

I go the rest of the way inside and find her pacing in front of the restroom stalls. Her back is to me as she says, “You can go, Dante. I’m fine.” But when she turns to pace in the opposite direction, I see the truth. Her face is pink and blotchy, and her eyes hold so much pain, it rips something apart inside of my chest.

My hands curl and uncurl, and my breathing comes harder and faster. Who do these people think they’re messing with? This girl has been assigned to
me
. Boss Man wants her soul, which means anyone messing with her is messing with me. And they’re about to find out exactly what that’s like.

I turn abruptly from Charlie and storm toward the hall.

“Dante,” she says. Her voice becomes urgent. “Dante, don’t.”

I head down the hallway, gaining speed, unstoppable.

As I round the corner, I see Taylor and one of her boy toys laughing. They’re having a grand ole time mocking
my
girl. The guy sees me, and his mouth turns up on one side. “Oh, here comes the boyfriend. Did you catch our show,
boyfriend
?”

I don’t stop. I keep moving. One second, Dickhead is standing upright, and the next my fist slams into his jaw. He hits the floor with a hard
thud
. I jump on his chest and throw my fist over and over into his face. I’m a big guy, there’s no denying that, but what’s more, I’m a motherfucking
demon
. And now the guy below me knows what it’s like to piss one off. When his eyes roll back in his head, I stand up and wipe blood from my knuckles.

Then I look at Taylor.

Fear sparks in her eyes. I approach her slowly. She backs up until her shoulder blades hit the lockers behind her. “Dante, I—”

I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shut up.”

I step so close, I can practically feel her heart beating. The hand not covering her mouth flicks, and her soul light flips on. Just as I expected, she’s coated in sin seals. What I don’t expect are the two sparkly pink seals.
What the hell? Did Charlie do this?

Right now, I don’t care. All I care about is delivering what this girl deserves. Usually, the size seal I can assign is based on the sin. But this time—just this once—I’m going to take a little liberty.

I close my eyes and pull as much as I can out of my core, then I let go. A seal the size of Canada attaches to her soul light. And oh, sweet mercy, I can tell Taylor feels it. Actually
feels
that I just took something sacred from her.

My mouth curls into a smile.

“Pow, bitch.”

Chapter Eighteen

Calm After the Storm

When I turn around, Charlie is there. She stands in the middle of the hall, her arms rigid at her sides.

I close the distance between us and put my arms around her. I have no idea why I do this, but it seems right. She lays her head against my chest for a moment, and then I take her hand.

“Come on,” I say. “Let me take you home.”

I lift her chin, and when she gives a firm nod, I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her to the parking lot. She slides into the passenger seat, and I start the engine. I can’t stop thinking about the pink seals on Taylor’s soul, about how they got there and why Charlie gave them to her. It doesn’t add up. I know she doesn’t know about her ability, but maybe it’d be better if she did. It’s something I need to think about.

I glance at Charlie. Her face is drained of emotion. “Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head and stares out the window. But after a few seconds, she turns and glances at me. “I’ll be fine, you know. I was fine.”

I throw her a
give me a break
look and turn back to the road.

“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she continues.

“Did they mess with the cue cards?” I’m sure I’m right, but I want her to confirm what I already know.

Charlie sighs. “Yeah. They were pretty bad. I’m lucky my brain shut off when it did.” She laughs to herself, though I know she doesn’t think it’s funny. “It was a creative way to make an idiot out of me. I’ll give her that.”

“Taylor will get what’s coming to her.”

Charlie fidgets in her seat. She wraps her arms around herself, then glances at me. “What did you do to her?”

I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I opt for playing dumb. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I saw the way she looked when you got close to her. Did you…do something?”

I roll my shoulders back. This is dangerous territory. The less Charlie knows, the better. Lies are slippery little beasts. “I just made sure she wouldn’t mess with you anymore.”

“How?” she presses.

“Why’d you want to do that broadcast, anyway?” I ask, dodging her question. “What is it with you and being on camera?”

Charlie chews her fingertips, and I pull her hand from her mouth. It’s beginning to be a game we play.

“I like reporters,” is all she says.

“Really? Why?”

She starts to put her fingers back in her mouth, then stops herself. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. So what is it? You got a thing for Anderson Cooper?”

She smiles. “No. It’s just…I don’t know. The night of the fire, everything was so chaotic. My neighbors were crying, and the firemen were asking me to describe the layout of the house, and everything was so
loud
. And amidst it all, I remember this lady. Her hair was pulled up into one of those twists.” Charlie motions to her hair. “And she just…sat there and held me for what felt like forever.

“Finally, this guy with a camera comes over to her and asks if she’s ready. She asked if I would be okay alone for a bit, then nodded to the cameraman. But before she got up, she took off this yellow suit jacket and put it on me. Like, she put my arms through the sleeves and everything. Then the guy counts down, and this woman, she just…came alive. As I watched on, she stood there, calm as a bird, and told the world what happened. And I remember thinking…yeah, people should know. They should know about my parents. It’s important.” Charlie glances at me. “You know? It
was
important, right?”

I nod, and for once, I squeeze her hand without an agenda. “Yeah, it was.”

“So, anyhoo.” She shakes her head back and forth as if to erase the tragedy. “I decided when I got older, I wanted to be like that woman. Telling people when important things happen. Someone has to do that. Otherwise, people just get forgotten.”

When we pull up to Charlie’s house, I go to kill the engine, but she stops me. “Dante, I want to be alone for a while. Okay?”

I have six days left to seal the deal, and I can’t afford to give Charlie alone time. But I can’t bring myself to push her, either. So I just say, “Want me to swing by tonight? Do dinner or something?”

“I’m supposed to hang out with Annabelle tonight,” she answers.

She’d rather hang out with Annabelle than me? What the H?

“That’s cool,” I say. “Maybe we can grab an early breakfast tomorrow before school.”

“How about I call you?” she says.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not packing.”

She scrunches her nose up. “You don’t have a cell phone?”

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah, but you’re, like, loaded or something.”

“I hate cell phones,” I say. “I feel like…if I want to talk to you, I’ll find you.”

“Well, if I want to have breakfast tomorrow, then I’ll be here. If not…” She shrugs, then laughs, and I’m happy to hear it’s authentic.

“I’ll be here at 7:30 tomorrow,” I say. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.” That did
not
come out right. But no worries. It sails straight over her head.

I’m thinking we’re good here. That Charlie is back in happy-go-lucky spirits. But as I watch her head up the walkway, I can see the way her shoulders sag. Annabelle’s not coming over tonight. Which means Charlie’s going to sit alone in that blasted pink room of hers and dwell.

I glance at my glove compartment where the soul contract rests, knowing this is a perfect time to go for the gold. She’s weak right now, susceptible. I should go inside and make her see that things could be different for her. Instead, I back out of the driveway and head toward Wink Hotel. Alone.

…

Lying in bed, I toss and turn. I realize I’ve done this a lot the last three nights, especially since I’m no further along on this assignment than I was four days ago. Unless you count that one measly seal Charlie received for minor theft.

I secretly hope Max will appear at this very moment and tell me what to do. Even though I trained him, right now I need a second opinion. How do you get a girl to sign a soul contract when she’s perfectly content with her life?

The muted television suspended in the corner casts a blue-green glow over the room. I glance at the clock—1:23
a.m.
Somehow I find enjoyment in this, the fact that the numbers are consecutive. I drift off thinking about other times I like—3:33 because there are three threes and 11:11 because it’s the only time with four of the same number. As miniature clocks swirl behind my eyes, the one next to me keeps ticking, and eventually, sleep takes me.

…

“Dante,” I hear someone say. “Dante, wake
up
. My gosh, you sleep like a grizzly bear.”

Hands shake me, and I bolt upright. Charlie stands beside my bed, washed in the TV’s light. She’s working her bottom lip between her teeth, and her cheeks are bright red.

“Charlie Cooper,” I say, rubbing my face, “what are you doing in here? You scared the crap out of me.”

“Dante the Collector scared? Of me?” She’s teasing, but her face is crinkled with worry.

“How did you get in here?” I throw the covers back, cross the room, and dig through my overnight bag for jeans and a T-shirt. Even though I’m half asleep, I wonder if she’s checking me out in my boxer briefs. Then again, who
wouldn’t
check this out?

I make sure to give her a good view of my tats as I drag on my jeans: the dragon covering my back and the tree stemming from my elbow, growing up my bicep, and branching over my shoulder. The tree is barren and completely wicked. I know, because I specifically told the tat guy that I wanted it to look
wicked
.

“Mr. Stanley gave me a key at the front desk,” Charlie answers. “He’s friends with my grandma.”

“So he just gave you a key?” I pull a gray Armani T-shirt over my head. “I don’t think they’re even allowed to say what room I’m in.”

She rolls her eyes. “This is Peachville, Dante. Not Phoenix. Or wherever you lived.” Charlie sits down on my bed, sinking into a heap of tangled sheets. It’s strange seeing her there. In my bed. Where I just was.

I sit on the opposite bed, and my knee jerks up and down. “So what’s up?”

She runs her hands over her thighs and stares up at me. Her eyes are wide and alive, and I suddenly realize what she’s here for.

“I’m ready,” she says. “I want you to make me beautiful.”