The Last Echo (7 page)

Violet pressed herself closer to Rafe, trying not to look at the boy, but unable to look away from the ink curling and creeping beneath his skin. She shook her head, her heart racing, bruising her ribs.

He was directly in front of her now, being led to wherever they were taking him.

At last, Rafe’s voice broke through Violet’s reverie and she heard him talking to her softly. “V, look at
me
.”

“I’m okay,” she tried to say, but the words didn’t quite reach her lips.

She could see in the boy’s eyes that her fear incited him, and he jerked toward her, throwing his body in her direction, struggling against his restraints like a madman. He held her gaze as he tried to get to her. “You like me, girl? You like what you see?”

But he didn’t get far.

Two of the officers pushed him down, forcing him to his knees. “I said shut up!” One of them was yelling as they gripped his handcuffs, hauling him upward until his shoulders were so contorted they looked like they might snap.

Violet squeezed as far back against the bench as she could. When the boy lifted his head, she found herself staring into his black eyes. A menacing smile curled his lips as his gaze roved from the top of her head down to her feet, pausing only momentarily over her chest. “You’d like me even better if we were alone,” he promised, licking his lips lasciviously.

Violet glared at him. She hated that he could see her fear, that he knew he’d gotten to her.

He laughed then, a vulgar bark that sounded like a growl. “I knew she liked me. Me and her would get along
just fine
,” he said to the cop as he was yanked to his feet again and dragged away.

And then everything was moving again, in real time. Voices rose around her, returning to their normal, fevered pitch. She would never admit how her pulse choked her, or how her breath felt hot and shallow, hard to find like the air was suddenly too thin in that cramped space. But she was grateful when Rafe’s hand closed over hers . . . when she felt the familiar spark from his touch. She didn’t care that he practically hauled her up from the bench, his body shielding her from the boy being taken into custody.

By the time Sara arrived, she looked as if she could spit fire at the three of them. Her gaze leveled on Rafe as the door closed behind her.

And then she paused when she saw Violet—when she saw the way Rafe stood in front of her like a sentinel—and the furious scowl she was wearing cracked, fracturing into something . . . softer. “What? Did something happen?”

“It’s Violet. Some guy just threatened her,” Rafe explained, his voice hard and filled with lingering menace.

Violet had just barely managed to control her shaking, and the unearthly choral voices had vanished. She realized she could have left it at that. That she could have let them both believe that the boy had simply frightened her. But now that he was gone, his imprints tucked away somewhere deeper in the building, she could feel her pulse steadying. “No. That—that’s not it,” she stammered. “He was . . .” She felt stupid for faltering, for her fear.

Violet felt Krystal’s hand on her shoulder, and felt her fingers tightening. It was reassuring in a way Violet couldn’t explain, and she relaxed. Despite what they’d been through tonight, these were exactly the people she could talk to about this.

“He was a killer, with imprints all over him. Strong ones. Almost overpowering . . . like they are when they’re new.” Violet swallowed, waiting to see what Sara would say.

But Sara didn’t say anything. She just gave a brief nod, and then left them standing there as she marched assuredly toward the officer already heading in her direction, the same guy who’d caught them at Antonia Cornett’s house and brought them there in the first place. Sara coolly revealed her identification . . . ID that looked suspiciously close to a badge, Violet noted, despite the fact that Violet now knew that Sara was no longer
actually
in the FBI. She showed it to the officer, while her other hand compulsively smoothed over her hair, which was pulled into a flawless ponytail fastened at the nape of her neck. As usual, there wasn’t a single strand out of place. It was Sara’s tic.

“I’m Sara Priest. And these three”—she glowered in the direction of her team—“are with me.” She turned her attention fully on the officer then, smiling as she leaned in conspiratorially. “Can we talk privately for a moment?”

Violet watched as the officer grinned back at her, an almost too-eager expression on his face. She seemed to notice, for the first time really, how Sara’s sapphire eyes stood out against her ivory skin, and the way her auburn hair, always so sleek and severe, captured light in its fiery strands. Strange how she’d never realized those things before.

Sara reached for the officer’s arm, just the barest of touches, as she expertly drew him away from her team.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Violet whispered, stepping closer to Krystal.

Pursing her full lips in concentration, Krystal shook her head. Violet could make out the voices as Sara and the officer spoke, but not a word of their conversation.

“Maybe you should ask one of your spirits to eavesdrop,” Rafe stated flatly. “Shouldn’t they have warned you this might happen?”

Krystal stuck her tongue out at Rafe, but then her face broke into a huge grin. “He’s right, you know?” She elbowed Violet. “Here we are, a bunch of psychics . . . you’d’ve thought at least one of us would’ve seen this coming.”

Violet let out a breathy giggle. She didn’t try to explain that she wasn’t really a psychic; she sort of liked feeling like she belonged in their ranks, that she was one of them. On the other side of her, she nudged Rafe. “Yeah, where were your superpowers when we needed them? Or do they only work if you’re wearing your cape or something?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, and Violet thought he might be annoyed that they were making fun of him. And then his lips twitched. “Clearly you don’t know anything. It’s not the cape, it’s the tights.”

Violet had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. The idea of Rafe in a cape, let alone tights, was hysterical, but she wasn’t sure Sara would appreciate their timing.

Watching, they saw Sara shake the officer’s hand and then turn her back on him as she strode purposefully toward them. Rafe, as always, seemed unaffected by her withering stare, but Violet could already feel herself squirming, wilting beneath the white-hot intensity that was Sara Priest.

Sara stopped in front of them and inhaled deeply, almost as if she were mentally counting, collecting herself before attempting to speak to them. After a moment, she explained, “I’ve gotten things straightened out here. You three are lucky. They won’t be filing charges against you.” She stretched her hand out—palm up—to Rafe. “I need the key back.” Violet wondered, although only briefly, how Sara had known it was Rafe who’d taken the key, but then she figured it probably hadn’t been that difficult to sleuth out.

Besides, the apathetic look on his face pretty much confirmed her accusation.

He just shrugged when he pulled the silver key from his front pocket and dropped it into her hand, as if it didn’t really matter to him one way or the other. The muscles around Sara’s mouth tightened when she added, a heavy note of exhaustion in her voice, “I’m too tired to deal with this tonight. I’m going home. I expect to see all of you at the Center tomorrow.”

Violet winced. It was almost worse that they’d have to wait. She’d rather just get it over with, to know now what kind of trouble they were in.

And then Sara paused. “Violet, I’d like to talk to you about the boy who threatened you. Would you be willing to take another look at him if I can set something up?” Beside her, Violet was sure she felt Rafe’s disinterested veneer crack. “From behind the two-way, of course.”

Violet hesitated. She’d tried this before, tried to sense imprints from the other side of the mirrored glass they used at police stations. Sara had used the same technique to test Violet’s ability, to see how much she could discern, and how accurate her gift was. She knew that sometimes the glass dulled the sensations, but it was better than the alternative. Better than facing the boy one-on-one again. “Of course,” she agreed. “I’m happy to help.” She wasn’t sure that was entirely true. In fact, the boy’s imprints made her feel cold and dirty. Violated. But wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that the reason she’d joined the team in the first place, to help stop killers?

“I’m coming too.” Rafe’s voice left no room for argument as he glared not at Violet but at Sara. “If she has to see him again, I don’t want her doing it alone.”

“Look, I’m right here,” Violet interrupted them. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not.”

Rafe directed his gaze to her, his eyebrows lifting. “Fine. If you have to see him again, I don’t want you doing it alone,” he repeated as he faced her. “Better?”

But Sara didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of them. She seemed unaware of them for a moment as she weighed Rafe’s words. “You can go, but if I tell you to step out, you need to listen. Understood?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. He shoved his hand in his pocket once more, and Violet waited to see if he was going to argue. But when he spoke, his voice belied the frustration she could see smoldering behind his eyes, and she wondered where it was coming from exactly—what Sara had done, or said, to incite that kind of irritation. “Understood,” he bit out at last.

And then he turned on the heel of his boot and strode toward the door, leaving the rest of them behind.

SOME DAYS THE RAIN JUST SEEMED TO FIT, AND
today felt like one of those days. The morning sky was dark, layered with the kind of thick black clouds that promised showers. Violet didn’t mind; it suited her mood. Despite the weather, she’d gotten up early, needing to clear her head the only way she knew how.

And now, running on what she considered a path, but what was really more of a thinned-out passageway between the trees surrounding her house, she could feel the dense fog in her head lifting. Something even the repeating loops of Dr. Lee’s hypnosis tracks on her iPod hadn’t been able to do.

She didn’t want to think about last night, so she didn’t think at all, just concentrated on her pace as her feet landed heavily against the compacted forest floor. She listened to her breath steady in her ears, hypnotic in its own way, and it helped. She felt less jumbled. Less fuzzy.

She’d barely noticed when the rain finally started. It wasn’t until she was soaked, until tiny rivulets of water trickled into her eyes and she had to blink them away, that she realized it wasn’t just a drizzle that fell from the sky, but a full-on downpour. Yet even that couldn’t sour her improving mood. Instead, she went out of her way to find every puddle on her way home. She felt like a little girl . . . jumping in them just so, sending sprays of muddy water splashing up her legs until her shoes were drenched all the way through, and her rubber soles squeaked with each step she took.

By the time she tumbled through the back door of her house, into her kitchen, Violet was laughing and dripping and filthy. She slipped off her waterlogged shoes and grabbed a sweatshirt from the hook by the door, doing her best to towel off with the thick fleece, but it was a poor substitute for a real towel.

Her dad was sitting at the table, watching her curiously. “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning for someone without a cell phone.”

Violet shrugged. Her parents had been waiting for her when she’d come home last night. They’d gotten the call from the police, just as she’d suspected they would. “I can’t really say I didn’t deserve what I got, I guess.” She tried to smile, to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t buying it.

His fingers tapped against the tabletop, his eyebrows raised as Violet dropped onto the chair, water puddling onto the floor beneath her. “Jay called while you were . . . out,” her dad said, changing the subject. “And Chelsea too. In fact, she’s called three times already this morning. I forgot how exhausting it was before you had your own cell phone.” He shook his head at the receiver sitting in front of him. “Just tell them they don’t have to
keep
calling. I promise to give you the messages.”

Violet smiled at her father, feeling guilty for putting him in this position. He was supposed to be the good cop in their household, and here he was playing the part of enforcer. Violet knew, just from the strained expression on his face, it wasn’t a role he cared for.

The phone rang again, as if on cue, and he sighed as he glanced at the caller ID.

“I gotta get ready for school,” Violet said, jumping up and patting her dad’s sagging shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her to stop calling. Maybe we’ll get some walkie-talkies, or learn smoke signals.” She snapped her fingers. “Or, I know, we can tie some cans to a really long string and go old-school.”

“Or maybe,” he drawled impatiently, “you could try staying out of trouble and we’ll give you your phone back.”

Cocking her head to the side, Violet pretended to think about that, and then she winked at him. “Yeah, but how boring is that?” she said, and then caught herself, realizing those were the exact words Rafe had used the night before. “I’m kidding. I’ll behave,” she amended before her dad could say anything. She kissed him on the forehead as he lifted the receiver to his ear, answering it on the third ring. “Cross my heart.”

Getting up early meant Violet made it to school with plenty of time to spare. Slamming her car door and tugging her hood over her head to keep from getting drenched as she raced toward the building, Violet avoided eye contact with everyone around her as much as humanly possible.

Running in the rain had made her feel a little less . . .
dazed
, but it didn’t change the fact she was in trouble with her parents. Or that she’d gotten caught trespassing by the police the night before.

She really wasn’t in the mood for superficial chitchat, even with her friends, and she kept her head low as she made her way to her locker.

“That bad, huh?”

Violet glanced up to find Jay leaning against the bank of metal lockers, amusement clear in his expression.

“Totally.” She twirled the lock. “My parents took my phone, and I feel completely naked without it.” She frowned when she heard him laugh under his breath. “It’s not funny, Jay.”

“I knew something was up when your dad answered and said I’d have to talk to you at school. So, what’d you do?”

She concentrated intensely on her combination, on lining the numbers up just so. As if she hadn’t done it a thousand times before. As if she couldn’t do it in her sleep.

She lifted one shoulder, trying to act as if it were nothing when she answered him. “I got picked up by the police last night.” Despite her nonchalant tone, she cringed inwardly. It wasn’t like she really expected him to just let that pass.

Jay didn’t disappoint. “What the . . . ? What do you mean,
picked up by the police
? Where were you? Why?”

Violet sighed dramatically and threw her arms down to her sides, momentarily giving up on her lock. “Okay, so technically it was breaking and entering, but we didn’t actually get charged. Rafe stole a key to the dead girl’s house—the one I found in that warehouse the other night—and when we were there the cops showed up. Sara had to bail us out.” She batted her lashes at him, trying to look as innocent as possible. She’d seen it work a thousand times on TV.

His voice came out sounding constricted from between his clenched teeth, but Violet had to hand it to him, he wasn’t freaking out or anything. “If you weren’t arrested, then why did Sara have to bail you out?”

“So,
bailed
out isn’t precisely the right word, but you know what I mean. She had to come and rescue us. Plus, they called my parents.”

Jay chewed on that for a minute, his eyes narrowing. But then his expression shifted, and he leaned casually against the locker. Violet started to wonder if he was enjoying this part. Seeing her squirm and all. “And they took your phone?”

“Exactly,” she sighed.

He surprised her then by grinning. “C’mon, don’t be like that. Think about it, it could’ve been so much worse.”

Violet turned back to her locker and spun to the last number in her combination before lifting the lever. The door rasped metallically when it opened. “How? They might as well have teleported me back to the nineties.”

“Did they ground you?” he asked, moving closer, so that he was right beside her now, leaning over her shoulder . . . his breath at her neck.

She scowled, refusing to acknowledge that they hadn’t.

“And you said yourself you didn’t get charged with anything.” The levity in his voice was beginning to grate on Violet’s nerves. No one should be so . . . cheerful.

She pulled out her books and slammed the locker shut again, not caring that she’d slammed it unnecessarily hard. She just wanted him to stop making it sound like her parents had done her a favor by taking away her cell phone. No matter how you looked at it, it was a bad move on their part. She’d tried to explain that to them, telling them they were putting her in danger by leaving her without any way to call for help if she needed it.

They’d countered with the fact that she shouldn’t be putting herself in situations where she needed help that badly. They also threatened to pull her from the team, to force her to stop working with Sara altogether if she got in that kind of trouble again.

Violet supposed Jay was right: She should be glad it was only a cell phone violation.

“Come on, jailbird,” he said, leaning down and kissing the top of Violet’s head. His breath tickled her scalp. “Let’s get you to class before you add detention to your rap sheet.”