Trail of Dead (23 page)

You will not cry. You will
not
cry.
I started to shake with the effort, and he put his arm around me. “I’ll be fine, Scarlett,” he said softly. “We all will.” He smelled like Giorgio Armani aftershave and orange peel. We sat there like that for a long time, my thoughts drifting around like butterflies in a fog bank. I felt the house behind me like a presence, as though Olivia had marked it as her territory and some part of her had actually seeped into the walls. Jesse’s warm arm around my shoulders seemed like the only thing keeping it from swallowing me.

Finally, I sat upright and pushed loose strands of hair behind my ears. I turned to face him. He looked troubled. “I know you’re worried about me,” I said. “I know you don’t want to leave me. But there’s something else I have to do, and I can’t have you with me to do it. Do you understand?”

I could tell by his face that he was going to argue, so I cut him off before he got the chance. “I swear, Jesse, you can be around me every second if you want to, but there’s something I have to do first. I’m asking you to trust me. I need you to trust me.”

He searched my face for a long moment and sighed. “It’s three o’clock now. The sun sets around five. If I pick you up at four thirty, will that give you enough time?”

“Six.”

“Scarlett—”

“I’m not going to be home; she won’t be able to find me. And I need the sunset.
Please
, Jesse.”

The “please” did it. “Okay, okay,” he said reluctantly. “What about that?” he asked, nodding back toward the little cottage. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I could help you—”

“
I will take care of it.
”

He looked at me for a long moment, and I saw him understand. Then I saw him resign himself. “There’s something else you need
to know,” he said. He told me about Kirsten’s party and what they wanted me to do.

“The party’s at seven,” he finished. “Can you do it?”

I was beyond decision making, so I just nodded. I ignored the deeply concerned expression on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but after a moment of hesitation he just stood up.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, and left.

I waited until the Corolla had turned the corner, and then I counted to a hundred. I got a few things from the toolbox in the back of Will’s truck and headed back into the basement.

Then I burned the goddamned house down.

“Molly. Molly!” I shook her shoulder gently. Then a little harder. Finally, her eyes opened.

“Whaaat?” she said irritably.

“Wake up. I need you.”

She looked at me for the first time and sat up, swinging her long legs over the side of the bed. She wore pink flannel boxer shorts and a Hello Kitty shirt, with Hello Kitty dressed as a goth punk. Vampire or not, her blonde hair seemed to rumple adorably. “What happened?”

As quickly as I could, I told her about the house in Silver Lake—the photos of me, the pictures of her, Eli, Jesse, and my brother.

“You have a brother?” she asked incredulously.

I sighed. Whoops. Molly was a decent friend to me, but anything I did or said could easily end up getting back to Dashiell, so I’d never told her about Jack. But that horse was already out of the barn—Dashiell had given Jack a job specifically to remind me that he could fuck with my last remaining family member anytime he wanted to—and I had bigger problems right now, anyway. “Yes. We’re not really…close. But I need your help with something. I’ll explain on the way.” I hopped off the bed and turned toward the door.

“Uh, can I get dressed first?”

“Oh. Right.” I turned to face the wall, which made Molly giggle, as usual, while she donned jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt that read
Spanky’s House of Pain. How may we hurt you?
I chose not to comment.

I hadn’t talked to Jack since Thanksgiving, when we’d gone out to dinner at the Stinking Rose, a garlic-lovers’ restaurant on La Cienega. (No, it wasn’t a big anti-vampire statement or anything. I just really like garlic. And restaurants that are open on Thanksgiving.) Things were weird between us: Jack didn’t know that our parents had been murdered because of me. I always cringed with guilt when I saw him, which made him think he was doing something wrong, which usually just snowballed into awkwardness and stammering. But we’d managed to pull it together for one night, at least. We’d avoided talking about Thanksgivings past, sticking to his job, movies, and current events. For once, things between us were actually kind of okay.

And now I was about to ruin it.

Jack lived in the Valley, in one-half of a tiny duplex on the outskirts of Sherman Oaks. I knocked on his door at 5:00 p.m. on the dot, praying that he’d be home. There was a wreath hanging at eye level, and while I waited for him to answer I leaned forward to smell it. The fresh scent of pine needles hit my nose and traveled straight to wherever my memories are kept. He’d gotten a real wreath with a red velvet bow, just like our mother always had. If they didn’t wither away at the end of every winter, I could swear that this was the same one.

Get it together, Scarlett.

My brother is a few inches taller than I am—five eleven, with our father’s dark-red hair. Unlike our dad, though, Jack keeps it buzzed close to his head. He has my green eyes, a narrow build, and the snow-white complexion that comes from being inside all day. If he’s not working full-time for Dashiell’s hematology laboratory, he’s taking med school classes at night. When the door popped
open with a weather-stripping hiss, he was wearing sweatpants, a Chicago Bears T-shirt (our dad had been a fan), and a dish towel over one shoulder. “Hey, Scarbo,” he said with some surprise. In the three months Jack had lived in LA, I had never initiated contact. “Um, who’s your pretty friend?”

“Jack, this is Molly. Molly, this is my big brother, Jack.”

He suddenly noticed the dish towel on his chest and snatched it down, blushing. After wiping his hands, he held one out to Molly. “You must be Scarlett’s roommate. She’s told me a lot about you.”

Molly shook, arching an eyebrow at me. “Really? Wish I could say the same.”

I ignored her. “Can we come in for a minute?”

“Of course.” He stepped back, ushering us into the dining room. He didn’t comment on Molly’s shirt. Good for him.

I took the seat nearest the window and pulled the shades down. Jack gave me a funny look but didn’t ask. “I was just finishing the dishes. I gotta be back on campus for study group at seven, so dinner was early tonight.”

“You look tired,” I said, seeing dark circles under his eyes.

“I was at the premed library all last night,” he explained. “Trying to finish up some stuff for the holidays.”

“About that, Jack,” I began. “I have this problem.”

“What can I do?” he said, instantly concerned. I almost rolled my eyes. Everywhere I went, I seemed to trip over protective men.

“Well, I’d actually love it if you took a little trip. To visit Mom’s cousin Rhys in Scotland. He’s lonely, and really wants to meet up with some family. For the holidays.”

“Mom didn’t have any cousins,” he said, looking confused. “Besides, I thought we were gonna get together for Christmas.”

“It might be second cousin, I’m not sure. But you can have Christmas with him,” I said, too brightly. Rhys is one of the other five nulls that I know about in the world. He lives in Scotland (there’s a theory that evolution has spread the nulls out deliberately
to give us maximum effect, but that’s another story), and though we’d barely spoken in the past, when I called to explain that Jack was in danger he’d agreed to do this for me. I’d tried to talk him into taking Molly too, but he’d refused to host a vampire over the holidays. Which was kind of okay, since Jack’s last-minute international ticket cost almost every penny in my already pathetic savings account.

“Scarbo,” Jack said, glancing at Molly, who remained quiet. She was waiting for a cue from me. “I can’t just do that. I have study group, and work—”

“I already cleared it with Dashiell,” I said. That was technically a lie, but I was certain that once Dashiell woke for the night, he’d okay it. Mostly certain. Okay, I was just hoping. “He’s giving you all the time you need.”

“But what about you?” Jack protested. “You can’t be alone on Christmas!”

“I’ve been alone on Christmas before,” I reminded him gently. This was a cheap shot. The year after our parents died, Jack was still so grief stricken that he couldn’t stand to be around me. Of course, I was too guilt stricken to be around him, so it kind of worked out.

“Which is exactly why I shouldn’t leave,” he said promptly.

Backfire. “Look, he already sent you a ticket, for tonight,” I said, handing it over with a weak little flourish. “It’s nonrefundable. It would be awful if Rhys wasted all that money.”

But Jack didn’t even look at the ticket. He was looking straight at me. “Don’t use Mom guilt on me, Scarbo. What’s going on?” he said. “Why are you so anxious to get rid of me? Are you and I…not okay?”

Shit, shit, shit. I checked my watch: 5:10. It was rush hour in LA, and I had less than an hour before Jesse would come for me. If I wasn’t there, he’d probably swear out an arrest warrant. I sighed and made eye contact with Molly. “I need to use the restroom.” She nodded at me.

“Uh, okay…” Jack said, confusion still in his voice.

I got up and trudged toward the hallway. When I felt Molly leave my radius, I went a few steps farther and turned to watch them, keeping tight against the wall. Guilt folded my stomach in on itself. Molly was smiling at Jack, her face suddenly radiant, her hair brighter. Even her clothes seemed to perk up when she became vampire. She reached across the table and took Jack’s hand, forcing eye contact. I couldn’t see his face from that angle, but he didn’t pull away.

“Jack,” Molly began, still smiling. “You’re going to go to Scotland for Christmas.”

“Yes.”

Molly didn’t seem to be doing anything special, at least not from where I was, but I’d never heard Jack’s voice so empty of life. Tears spilled down my cheeks, but I couldn’t look away. I had caused this. I owed it to Jack not to hide from it.

“You’re excited to see Rhys, who is your mother’s favorite cousin.”

“Yes.”

“You’re grateful to Scarlett for setting all this up, as a Christmas present.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not at all suspicious or worried about the trip. Are you?”

“No.”

With one last smile, Molly let go of his hand and looked over to me. She nodded. I brushed tears away with my sleeves and went back to my spot near the window. Molly readjusted to mortality.

“Hey, Scarbo,” Jack said cheerfully. “Thank you, again, for setting all this up. This is the coolest Christmas present ever!”

“No problem,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

“Oh, hey, since I’ll be gone next week, let me go grab your present,” he said, racing off toward the bedroom.

I felt Molly’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t look at her. “I just did what you asked,” she said quietly.

“I know. Thank you.” I heard her sigh. “What about you, Molls?”

“Me? I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t start with me, Scarlett.”

“This is the second time this year you’ve had to leave town because of who I am.”

“Oh, please. The self-blaming thing is boring. Besides, I’ll be having a great time. I’m going—”

“Don’t tell me where you’re going,” I said, too sharply.

“Right.” She didn’t falter. “Just do me a favor and kill that disgraceful bitch. For all of us.”

When we left Jack’s, I was wearing his present—a deep-green scarf, chosen to set off my eyes (“I just asked the saleslady to match it to mine,” Jack had said, blushing again)—and Jack was calling a cab to take him to the airport. I would have liked to march him right up to the security screening—hell, I wanted to close the door of the plane myself—but he promised to text when he had boarded, which would have to be good enough. I broke about twelve traffic regulations on the way home and made it to the house at 5:57. Molly made for the staircase, up to her room to pack. After a moment of thought, I went up after her and knocked on her doorframe.

“Hey, Molls, can you do one more thing for me?”

She looked up from an expensive-looking leather duffel bag. “What’s that?”

“Can you call Dashiell, fill him in on Olivia and the party tonight? Just so he’s updated?” Kirsten would never let vampires actually attend the party, but he’d want to know what we were doing.

A smile spread across her face. “Already done.”

Sometimes it can be useful, living with a spy.

Without really thinking, I stepped forward into her room and wrapped my arms around her slender frame. “Thanks,” I said into her hair.

Surprised, she hugged me back. “You’re welcome.”

We managed to avoid the whole when-to-pull-away issue, because the doorbell rang. I trotted down the stairs. Remembering my idiocy from the day before, I focused on my radius for a moment before opening it, but there was nothing Old World nearby. I checked the peephole anyway, and then let Jesse inside.

“Oh, good, you’re ready to go,” he said, eyeing my jacket and scarf. I did the classic look-down-at-what-you’re-wearing double take. “Uh…I guess so,” I said doubtfully. Then I saw a smear of ash on my jeans leg. “Wait, just a second.”

I trotted up the stairs, hearing Molly exchange a few pleasantries with Jesse as I went, and burst into the room. What do you wear to a witch’s party? Not red or green, because it wasn’t Christmas oriented, and probably not a dress, in case I had to run toward or away from something. Someone. I pushed the thought aside and tried to focus on the problem at hand. Clothes, I reminded myself. The problem at hand was clothes.

After Olivia died I had mercilessly thrown out all of the clothes she’d bought me, all those brand-name dresses from Nordstrom and the fancy heels she’d taught me to walk in. I wasn’t anyone’s fucking puppet anymore. But that meant my wardrobe pretty much consisted of what I’d worn in high school, a supplement of jeans and T-shirts I’d chosen for comfort, and whatever Molly had forced me to buy via her famous excessive-whining torture method. I finally settled on clean jeans, silver flats, and a lightweight black V-neck sweater. Witches always appreciate black, right?