Veiled (23 page)

I tip the bottle back.

And drink.

***

I am drunk.

Day drunk.

That’s
way
more drunk than normal drunk.

I drank a whole bottle of pinot gris.

It’s sitting right beside me in the sand, propped up like it’s in an ice bucket and I’m some classy bitch.

Jay is right beside me, his large frame taking over my vision. Even though there’s an endless beach in front of me and infinite ocean, Jay is all I see.

He’s looking for a pen and paper. I told him I want to write a message and stick it in the wine bottle and throw it out to sea.

He’s indulging me. He knows I’m drunk. He had maybe two sips of wine and that’s it. I asked him if it’s possible for him to get drunk, cuz I dunno, maybe his super fast metabolism keeps it from affecting him. I’m pretty sure vampires can’t get drunk. Except on blood.

But Jay said it’s possible and that’s why he needs to refrain.

Then I called him a pussy.

He burst out laughing.

I love his laugh.

It’s really only the second time I’ve heard it, this rich genuine sound of joy, coming from the soul of him, but I love it with every part of me.

Then he said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And I swear the Irish accent came out again. I decided not to bring it up. I just watched him and went on like nothing happened.

I have my theories though. That he was Irish in a past life. And if the accent is starting to come out, then maybe other parts of who he was are too.

The thought struck me as dangerous.

I ignored it.

Now Jay is handing me a receipt and I fish my eyeliner out of my purse and start writing the note.

“What are you going to write?” he asks me, utterly amused.

Good. I like it when I amuse him.

“Not sure yet,” I tell him.

I put the receipt on my knee and have the eyeliner poised to write. I have to make the writing big so it won’t be too smudgy. I glance at Jay out of the corner of my eyes and see his attention is on the crashing waves.

Without thinking, I write:

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.

Before Jay can see, I quickly roll up the receipt and stick it in the bottle. Then I start using the bottle to scoop sand, like filling an hourglass.

“What are you doing?” Jay asks, peering over my shoulder. “It’s going to sink that way, not float.”

“I want it to sink,” I tell him.

I’m pretty sure that direction is the only way it will get read.

“Maybe we should get you back in the room,” he says. “We haven’t even seen it yet.”

I nod dumbly, not sure of the time. It’s way past dinner, I know because my stomach is growling and the smell of fried fish and barbeque is in the air.

It’s so beautiful out that I almost freeze to the spot. I’m hit with a pang of sadness that always comes with realizing summer is almost over.

Jay offers me his hand to help me up but instead I grab the wine bottle and scoot down the dune like a crab until I’m upright and running across the beach as fast as I can.

I smile into the wind, into the sun that burns bright on the horizon, and I run, run, run, the occasional giggle escaping my lips, my feet flying.

I know Jay is behind me. He’s my shadow. A shadow I like.

A shadow I need.

A shadow I want.

Behind me.

In front of me.

Everywhere.

I stop at the ocean’s edge, breathless, on the verge of hiccups, and wind my arm up.

The bottle goes sailing in an arc through the air, landing in the swell behind the breaks. It’s probably not deep enough, but it will eventually get dragged out to sea, where it belongs. Maybe a mermaid will intercept it before it reaches the bottom.

Jay stops a few feet behind me. I can feel him. He’s not breathing hard like I am (
he’s not human, is he?
) but I sense him all the same, the way you know your shadow is there, even if it’s overcast.

I watch the horizon for a moment, that big endless line, jagged with waves. I watch until it starts to scare me, like looking into the abyss and having the abyss stare right back.

That’s the last thing I need.

I turn around and look at Jay.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

And I’m drunk, I’m so drunk.

But he’s so beautiful. And I want to tell him more than anything. I want him to understand that it’s
okay
.

There he stands. Over six feet of muscle and mystery. The messy cinnamon hair waving in the wind. That chiseled jaw. The sharp cheekbones. A look of being haunted and of doing the haunting. His eyes that undo you, for good or bad.

And right now, he’s undoing me.

For good.

My world goes swimmy.

I’m not sure what happens next.

Suddenly we’re in the room and I’m leaning against the door with my back to it.

He’s opening a bottle of water from beside the coffee machine.

I want to tell him it’s probably twenty dollars.

But my mouth doesn’t work and my mind is probably days behind.

He unscrews the cap and has a sip of the water before striding over and holding it out for me.

“You need to drink the whole thing.”

My lids are heavy.

I shift to the left and he’s there, holding me up in his arms.

Smells like the sea.

“Easy, princess,” he says in that endearing way of his, his lips at the top of my head. “I guess I wasn’t exactly the best guardian today, was I?”

I wrap my hands around his neck and hold on, holding myself up so that my face is pressed into his chest.

Then I lift up my chin to stare up at him.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” I ask him lazily.

His eyes widen briefly before they become all squinty and warm. “Me? No.”

“Have you kissed a boy before?”

He gives a slight shake of his head, a lock of fiery hair falling across his forehead. “No. Do both of those answers disappoint you?”

“No.” I lick my lips and say goodbye to reason, shame and good ideas. “Don’t you wonder what it’s like?”

I expect him to say no.

But his gaze becomes heady, almost lustful, and it drops to my lips. I can feel his eyes on my mouth, burning sweet, almost like he’s already kissing me.

“I do,” he says huskily, his tone dropping a register.

His answer, his look, it emboldens and sobers me all at once.

“You can kiss me you know,” I whisper, staring at his full lips now, willing them. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He leans in closer, his nose brushing against the tip of mine. He closes his eyes. Murmurs, “I could. I very well could.”

Oh god, please do.

He’s breathing harder. Trying to compose himself. I can feel his pulse in his neck, beating against the heel of my palm. It’s wild.

I want to undo him as he undoes me.

I want to show him what it’s like to be mortal, to be human. To live, really live.

He said I made him feel. I want him to feel more.

Feel
me
.

“But you’re drunk,” he says softly, sadly.

“I’m sober enough.”

“But it wouldn’t matter.” He moves his head back a few inches, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You . . .” he rubs his lips together. “If I were to kiss you, I wouldn’t . . . I couldn’t stay who I am. I couldn’t go back.”

I’m not sure I understand but it doesn’t matter.

He’s rejecting me.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” I whisper, closing my eyes and feeling that shame that moments ago I pretended didn’t exist.

“Yes,” he says emphatically, his breath catching. “You’re more beautiful than this earth can handle. You belong in the stars, not here. You’re walking stardust and I’m amazed I can hold you in my arms”

My brain wants to make a joke about him being a poet and not even knowing it. But there’s nothing funny about this. I’ve never yearned for someone so much in my life. I’ve never had my body become so sexually aware before, like it’s waking up for the first time.

Nothing less than Jay will do.

“Ada,” he says, putting his fingers under my chin and raising it until my eyes open and meet his. “If you only knew how hard it is to say no to you. To say no to this. But I know what would happen.”

“What would happen?” I say this softly, afraid I might break this spell. Our faces are still inches apart and he’s moving closer without even knowing it.

“You would be mine. And I would be yours.”

From just a kiss?
I think, but I
know
it wouldn’t just be a kiss.

“Is that so bad?”

He nods softly. “Yes. Because that’s not how this works. I’m supposed to be with you and then I’m supposed to leave . . .”

“You can still leave,” I tell him, knowing full well that it would destroy me.

“I couldn’t.” He pauses, taking in a deep breath through his nose, trying to steady himself. “Because my willpower is weak when it comes to you.”

“It seems pretty strong right now.”

“Please don’t tempt me, Ada. I can barely handle it as it is. I won’t be able to hold back and I’m not sure who would come out.”

I want to tempt him. I want him to let go. I want us both to discover the hot-blooded man inside, the one with animal instincts. I’m playing with fire and I don’t care if I get burned. I want the flames to lick every inch of me.

“I want to make you feel,” I whisper into his ear.

He shudders, unable to supress a groan that I feel all the way down to my toes.

“You already do make me feel,” he says thickly. “Too much. Too soon. And it’s changing me, for better or for worse. But I can’t afford to be anyone but Jay to you. I’m in charge of your life, your future. And I can’t protect you otherwise.”

He grabs my wrists and pries my arms from around his neck. “And most of all, you’ve had an entire bottle of wine,” he says, his tone becoming jovial, pushing the distance from intimate back to casual. “And even more than that, I’m a gentleman. I’m not taking advantage of you. You would hate me for it tomorrow and I would hate myself.”

I squint my eyes at him, the room seeming bright, my shame brighter. “You’ve got it wrong, Jay.
I’m
trying to take advantage of
you
.”

He sighs and grabs my elbow, leading me over to the bed, placing the bottle of water on the bedside table.

I sit down and immediately fall back into the covers. He lifts up my legs and brings them around before slipping off my flats.

“How about we forget everything that just happened,” he says lightly, tossing my shoes on the floor. “Chalk it up to too much wine and sun. Get some rest. Have a nap. We can always eat later, I’m sure they have twenty-four-hour room service here.”

But I’m not really listening to him.

I’m feeling.

Reeling.

My heart is being dragged out with the tide.

And then I’m under.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Ada, dear.”

I expect to wake up with a raging hangover and a thousand regrets.

Instead I wake up in a cold, dark room. A single bed in the corner. A toilet half-hidden behind a curtain. A small shelf full of tattered books.

There’s one window, up high, with bars on it.

I’m in prison.

I gasp, as if I haven’t been breathing, and the air doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like air; it feels like a vacuum.

I try and get something into my lungs but there is nothing.

“It’s okay,” a tired yet familiar voice says from behind me.

I spin around to see a person standing in the shadows by a thick steel door. There’s a door with a sliding window open to the hall outside, the only source of light in this coffin of a room.

Everything is grey, even the person as she steps forward into the beam, revealing herself.

If I couldn’t breathe before, I definitely can’t breathe now.

It’s my grandmother, Pippa. A person I never remembered from life, who I only met after she died.

She’s staring at me with kindness in her eyes, looking to be about eighty or so, dressed in a long flowing gown straight from a classic film. Her hair is done up in victory rolls.

“Grandma?” I ask breathlessly.

“You’ll find it’s easier to not think about it,” she says. “That there is no air. It doesn’t matter. You’re fine.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and gesture to the room. “Why am I here? Where am I?”

“You’re in the Thin Veil,” she says quietly. “Not to where you’ve been going with that . . . Jacob. Deeper still.”

My eyes widen. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s safe,” she says. “This place is a place I constructed from my memories. It’s a place full of such pain and sorrow and torment that it has more power than anywhere else. The mental hospital where I was put away, the place where I died. It’s where I can be and no one, nothing, can find me. You put up walls without knowing it. These are my walls.” She pauses. “No one knows you’re here, not even Jay.”

I recognize it as the truth. I feel it in my bones. But even still, I’m on edge. The brief thought that this might not be Pippa crosses my mind. It would be an easy trap for a demon to set and make sure I could never come out.

But as I see her words as truth, I also know this is her. No tricks.

“Why did you bring me here?”

I try to think back to where I was before I woke up, though, and I come up with nothing.

“Because you’re the only one who can help,” she says. She shuffles over to the bed and sits down, pats the place beside her. “Come. Sit with your grandmother. I never did have a lot of time with you, even after my passing. It was always Perry who had to put up with hauntings. Poor child.”

I know Pippa used to scare the bejesus out of Perry but here she looks gentle. Just an old tired soul with my mother’s eyes.

I sit down next to her, afraid of what she’s going to ask me to do. No ghost drags you into the underworld to ask for a
small
favor.

Especially if they’re family.

I stare at her expectantly, absently realizing I haven’t taken a breath in a good minute. So far, so good.

“I didn’t want to interfere,” she says, putting her weathered hand on mine. “I’ve done that too many times before. But I have to. She’s my daughter.”

“Mom?” I whisper.

“She’s in a place she shouldn’t be,” she says. “I don’t even know when it started. When your mother died, she was in limbo for a long time. Lost in the Veil. I pulled her to one side. The demon pulled her to the other. The one who died inside her. A noble sacrifice she made for all of you but a near damning one all the same.” She pauses and lets out a heavy breath of non-existent air. “Eventually I won. I pulled her over. My own Jakob, the one I had my whole life, he helped too. She was in the light. She was home with me.”

“But then . . .” I supply fearfully, because I know there has to be a “but.”

She nods. “But then something happened. She found a way back to the Thin Veil. I told her it wasn’t safe. I know all too well. But this is a game I’ve played for years. She was new. She went to the Veil because it was the closest glimpse she could have of you and Perry and Daniel. She missed you so much.” She wipes away a tear that makes my heart break. “Missing someone is a dangerous emotion. It’s hunger that can’t be fed. It makes you vulnerable and weak and she wouldn’t have seen the demon until it was too late. Lured, perhaps, by images and promises of you. The demons lie, they always do.”

Her eyes trail over the room as if lost in thought. Then she pats my hand and continues. “She was sucked down to the other side. To Hell. And that’s where they’re holding her. To get to you. Only you Ada. Not Perry. Not me. You.”

“So it’s all real?” I ask incredulously, both horrified and vindicated. “That’s really her in my dreams?”

“Yes. And those aren’t always dreams, Ada. Sometimes they can find their way in and pull you under. That’s why you put up the walls. It’s your defense mechanism and it’s a powerful one. It’s one that your Jacob doesn’t quite understand. There’s a lot about you that no one understands, including myself.”

“Tell me about it,” I say softly. I shake my head. “I can’t believe this.”

“But you do. You always have known it was your mother. She’s asking for help because she’s suffering and will continue to be tortured for eternity. But at the same time she doesn’t want you to sacrifice yourself to save her.” Pippa looks me dead in the eye. “Please understand that I have tried all that I can. Me and my Jakob. But there is nothing. I can’t get to her. You can.”

“Why not Perry? She can create portals out of thin air. She could pop in and get her. She did that with Dex.”

Pippa laughs without mirth. “Are you not tired of living under someone else’s shadow?”

I shake my head violently. “Not when there are shadows behind shadows.”

“Perry has her own powers and her own path. She and Dex . . . they’ve covered a lot of ground. But you’re just starting. And you’re different, Ada.”

“You sound just like Jay,” I mutter.

“Oh, I’m nothing like him,” she says bitterly.

I frown. “Do you know him?”

She shakes her head. “No. Not personally. I just . . . feel. You feel a lot of things here. That’s why I know what’s happening to your mother. I feel more than see.”

“What do you feel about him?”

She gives me a steady look. “He’s not who he says he is. He’s not who he thinks he is.”

“Can you blame him?”

“I don’t mean the man has ill-will,” she says. “Not as a Jacob. But he has been lying to you.”

My heart stills. Blood rushes in my head. “What?”

“He knows your mother is in trouble. They all do. He knows she’s in Hell, that the demons have her, that she needs you to save her.”

“What?” I exclaim, getting to my feet. “How? Why? Why would he lie?” I pause, memories coming back to me. “Oh my god. I saw her today in the diner. She was talking to Jay. He denied it, denied seeing her. Was it her?”

She nods, slowly getting to her feet. She stretches, cracking her back. “It was her. She can appear sometimes when she’s not being watched. She’s almost always watched.”

I’m so angry I could scream. “Why did she appear to him instead of me?”

“Because she’s probably trying to convince him to let you come to her.”

“And he lied to my face! That shouldn’t be allowed. Jacobs are . . . are . . . they’re on our side.”

She snorts. “They are not on sides, they just are. They aren’t good and they aren’t bad. They skirt the grey and they’re just as vulnerable as the humans they once were. My Jakob is a little devil sometimes. Forever this young boy, always playing games. He never means me harm but he’s adept at manipulation. I’ve been around him for so long now that I know how to handle him. But you’re new to this.”

“And so is Jay,” I say. “He’s a rookie.”

She raises her brow skeptically, as if to say,
is that what he told you too?

“Regardless,” she goes on, “you need to go to her. And you need to convince him to let you go because that man will follow you until the ends of the earth before he lets you go. And then, when you’re there, you will put up the walls so that no demon, no damned soul, will ever see you.”

“And how will I find her? How will she find me?”

“There is a bond that can’t be broken,” she says. “From me to her. From her to you.”

She shuffles back across the room and brings me into a big hug, one I’m too shocked to return.

“Don’t trust him,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t trust yourself. Trust your heart. Your true heart. The inner compass. That will never steer you wrong.”

Then she pulls back and pushes a piece of hair behind my ears. “Now, go back to your world. And do some good.”

Suddenly the world shudders and my bones pop like bubbles are bursting inside and the grey air shimmers, stretched, until I see the haze of a hotel room.

And I fall flat on my face on the carpeted floor.

“Ada!” Jay’s voice coming from so far away.

His hands on my back, feeling my neck for a pulse.

They travel down my arms until he gets a hold and then hauls me up to my feet.

I can barely stand but I’m no longer drunk. I’m just so disoriented I don’t know what world I’m in anymore.

But this world has color. It has morning sunshine and smells of coffee.

It has Jay staring at me with a reddened face, brows drawn sharply together, looking both worried and furious.

“Where the fuck did you go?” he asks.

His language shocks me further awake. I blink and try and walk away from him. I get as far as the desk in the room before he grabs me again and whirls me around to face him. I’m vaguely aware I’m in his Led Zeppelin t-shirt, which means I was also wearing that in the Veil. Which means he must have undressed me when I slept. My mind can’t even latch on to that idea right now.

“Where did you go?” he repeats, more frantic now.

“To a secret place,” I mumble. I take a seat in the chair and blink back the sight. My brain feels like it’s been siphoned. Perhaps I left it all behind in Pippa’s cell.

Then it all comes back to me at once.

The rush of anger.

I glare at Jay with all the fury that’s dying to be released.

“You bastard,” I say through gritted teeth.

Now he’s shocked. “What?”

I’m so angry I can barely breathe. “You lying son of a bitch.”

He swallows and I see the first flicker of fear in his eyes that I’ve ever seen. He knows why I’m mad. Oh, he knows.

“I couldn’t find you,” he says, tripping over his words. “This morning you were gone. I searched everywhere. I tried to get in your head but . . . you put up those walls again. You have to stop putting up those walls, Ada. Stop blocking me out. Stop pushing me out. I’m only here to help you.”

“Bullshit!” I scream at him, getting to my feet and jabbing my finger into his chest. “You aren’t here to help me. You’re here to lie to me!”

His eyes bore into mine but I don’t care. I refuse to let him have that much power.

My refusal silences him.

“You told me it was a trick!” I yell. “You told me the demons were fucking with my head, that it wasn’t real, that she wasn’t in Hell, that she wasn’t hurt. But she is! They have her and you’ve been lying to me!” With that I push against his chest which surprisingly moves him back, rocks him on his feet.

I brush past him, feeling the fury cascade through me. It’s like a domino effect, but instead of dominos it’s sticks of dynamite and they’re going off one by one.

I whirl around, fixing him with the meanest glare, directing all that fire at him.

He looks scared. Honest to god, scared.

Of me.

Well, hell hath no motherfucking fury like a woman scorned.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself!” I throw my hands up. “Maybe tell me the truth! Why you’ve been lying! I mean, god damn it Jay! You were talking to her today in the diner. One demon was distracted by me and my mother took the chance to talk to you and you just pretended it didn’t happen. You made me think I was nuts!”

But Jay doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.

I’m not sure he’s even breathing.

Uneasiness creeps up my spine.

I take a step toward him, feeling the hate and fire inside me dissolve momentarily.

Then Jay moves, stumbling forward a few feet, gasping for air.

I stop. “What happened?” I ask firmly, not liking how this is taking away from my fury. “What’s wrong with you?”

He blinks at me. “You weren’t doing that on purpose?”

“Doing what?” I ask with a sigh. “If you think you can change the subject . . .”

“I’m not, okay,” he says testily. He comes over to me and my body stiffens in response. “I’m not changing any subject. I just need to know if you knew what you were doing just then.”