An urgent craving for nicotine hit Cyn around three a.m. She was on Father Montgomery’s couch again, flipping through late-night infomercials on an old TV that looked like it had been there since the sixties. She tried to ignore the feeling, but the need for a cigarette was killer and she finally gave in.
She didn’t see Avian as she tiptoed through the house, and assumed he was sleeping. After he’d cut her off, he’d gone back to cleaning his sword and she’d claimed the couch. That was where the only TV in the house was. She didn’t see the keys to Father Montgomery’s twenty-year-old sedan either but got lucky when she rummaged through the coat pocket of the jacket he still had hanging by the front door and found them there.
Twenty minutes down the road, an open gas station came into sight, and she pulled in, leaving the car idling. Cyn didn’t like what she was about to do, but she was desperate.
Strolling casually into the store, she took in the lay of the land. The night clerk was bent down beneath the counter, and she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Hopefully, it would be a man. For some reason, her mind mojo always worked better on men.
Cyn glanced bemusedly at a motorcycle magazine on the rack to her left and even briefly flipped through it while keeping an eye on the counter. When the clerk finally stood up again, Cyn saw that he was a tall man in his thirties, wearing a green and yellow uniform. His face lit up when he saw her.
Jackpot.
She put the magazine down and made her way over to him. Eyes wide, pupils dilating, she leaned across the counter. “I need you to get me a pack of Virginia Slims.” Her stomach growled loudly, and she glanced down at the snacks. “And these”—she reached for the first thing there—“pistachios, please.”
He grinned happily and turned around to get the cigarettes. When he turned back to give them to her, he said something, but no sound came out of his mouth.
“What’s that?” Cyn leaned in closer.
He spoke again—she saw his mouth move—but there wasn’t any sound. And then Cyn realized that she couldn’t hear anything else around her either. Not the radio that had been blaring, not the buzz of beer coolers, and not the idling engine of the car outside.
Everything was completely muffled, and then her vision went black.
~ ~ ~
Cyn woke up behind the counter. A lit cigarette in one hand and a loaded gun in the other.
Pure terror came over her, and she carefully set the gun down on the floor and moved away from it. She threw the cigarette onto the floor too and crushed it beneath the palm of her hand. Not even registering the sting as it burned into her flesh.
Cyn’s entire body shook as she thought about what might have happened while she blacked out. Did she hurt someone else? Or was she just going to hurt herself?
Getting to her feet, Cyn walked the empty store, looking for the night clerk. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone here?” The cash register appeared to be untouched, and nothing was broken or obviously missing. But he was nowhere to be found.
Then she glanced outside and saw that Father Montgomery’s car was gone. Did he take it? Did I tell him to take it?
She didn’t trust herself. She needed help.
Her gaze fell on a phonebook sitting on top of the counter, and she flipped through it, praying that the number for Father Montgomery’s church would be listed there.
It was. And so was the rectory.
She dialed the rectory number and waited anxiously as every ring went by. It took ten tries, but she kept calling, and eventually a male voice picked up.
“What?”
“It’s Cyn. I need your help. I’m at the gas station right down the road. Something . . . bad happened.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He hung up before she had a chance to say anything else. As she waited, she sat on the floor and lit up another cigarette. Staring at the gun the whole time.
He came stalking through the door five minutes later and found her there.
“Are you okay? What happened?” His eyes were brown with a hint of red around the edges.
“I don’t know. I borrowed Father Montgomery’s car because I needed a pack of cigarettes. But the car’s gone now, and so is the clerk. I don’t know what happened. There’s a gun, and I don’t know how I got it or where it came from.”
Her head was beginning to hurt, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “I think I blacked out,” she babbled on. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Cyn stared up at him and felt like her soul was being laid bare. Could he see the darkness inside her? Did he know about the money she’d influenced people to give her, the cars she’d stolen, and what she’d done to Hunter?
“I can read your memories,” he said. “ It should help us figure out what happened here.”
He slanted his head, and a piece of brown hair fell across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, raking it back, and it suddenly struck Cyn how very human that gesture was. She nodded her consent, and he touched her forehead. He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, and then it was all over.
“You told the clerk to take the car and he did. Then you went behind the register, smoked a cigarette, and found the gun under the counter. Then you woke up.”
“That’s it?” Astonishment filled Cyn’s voice. “That’s all that happened?”
“That’s it.”
He left out the part where Vincent had wanted to turn the gun on her. To follow through with his exit plan. If she hadn’t come to when she did, she probably wouldn’t still be alive.
“But what about the surveillance videos? They’re going to see all of this, and even if I didn’t technically do anything wrong, the cops are still going to come asking questions.”
Avian glanced up at the small white camera propped above them. “No blinking light. For confirmation, he pulled it down and looked it over before putting it back. “It’s a fake.”
Relief swept over Cyn as he checked the other three cameras in the opposite corners of the store and confirmed they were fakes too.
When Avian came back to the register, he walked around the counter and picked up the gun, carefully wiping it clean of any prints with the edge of his T-shirt. Then he returned it to its spot under the counter. He also wiped down the phone she used.
Everything looked the same way it had when she first walked in—minus the store clerk.
“Let’s go,” Avian said.
“We can’t leave the store with no one in it.”
In reply, he flipped the light switch off, turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED on the door, and locked the door behind them. “Done.”
Cyn followed him out to his motorcycle and glanced one more time at the now-darkened store. She still felt edgy and nervous. Without another word, they climbed onto the back of his bike and he drove away.
But they didn’t go back to the church. He just kept driving right past the rectory and ended up on a road Cyn didn’t recognize. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, breathing in the cold night air. It was a jagged knife to her lungs that kept her alert and awake. A shock to her system. Like finding yourself suddenly swimming in a cold pool.
Or maybe it was more like drowning.
The road turned into a wooded lane, and trees crowded around them. She could see that less than a hundred feet ahead the path dead-ended and there was nothing but a yawning black hole. Then Cyn realized that the distant roaring and crashing noises she could hear were coming from the black hole. As the bike got closer, the noises got louder.
He took them right up to the edge and parked.
It was a bluff overlooking a massive waterfall. Moonlight revealed white-crested currents crashing against giant boulders at the bottom of the falls, and even from as high up as she was, Cyn could feel the magnetic pull of the water coursing through her.
She glanced over at Avian. “Thought you might want some time to think,” he said.
“Yeah. Thanks.” She put her hands in her pockets and felt t
he pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
He shook his head. Cyn pulled one out but didn’t light it right away. Her thumb stroked the smooth packet as she thought everything over. What if the next blackout is the one where I hurt someone? Or kill them? Again. I can’t let that happen. I have to stop this.
Bracing herself, she took a step forward.
Thirteen’s hand shot out and gripped her shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas. At least not while I’m here. I don’t want to have to clean up the mess.”
“It’s not safe for anyone to be around me anymore. It’s not safe for me to be around me anymore. This is the only way to make sure I don’t hurt someone again—”
She stopped. Realizing what she’d just said.
“Stop being so dramatic. You’re an Echo. That’s the reason for the blackouts.”
His words stopped her dead in her tracks.
“I’m a . . . what?”
“An Echo. A conduit for souls of the dead. That’s why you can’t remember anything during the blackouts. There’s another soul inside you that comes to the surface during that time.”
“Wait . . . so you’re saying I have someone else inside me?” Her voice grew shrill. “I knew it! I knew I was possessed.”
“It’s not possession. That happens when someone is sharing their body with a demonic entity. You share yours with the dead. Misplaced souls.”
“So that means I have two souls? How is that even possible?”
“Technically, your soul is made up of other people’s souls. It’s complicated, but the basic gist is that when certain people die, their souls seek out an Echo to live in for a while before finally moving on. I don’t know if it’s some unfinished-business shit or what, but that’s what happens. They have to go somewhere. When they’re finally ready to move on to the afterlife, a little piece of them gets left behind and becomes part of your soul.”
“Like a quilt.” Cyn turned to face him. “My soul is made up of a bunch of other pieces of souls like the squares of fabric that make a quilt.”
“Right. So your soul is a quilt. Get it? Got it? Good.”
“How long does someone else get to live inside my body?”
“Until they move on or another soul takes over. You said you see faces in the mirror beneath yours. Are they continuously there?”
Cyn shook her head. “Sometimes there’s a break. Every time that’s happened, I thought I was fixed. I should have known better. It always came back.” Cyn glanced up at him. “Why did this happen to me?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s who you are. You just have to deal with it.”
“Just deal with it? Do you have any idea what it feels like to lose complete control over your body? To wake up and have no idea where you are or what you’ve been doing? To be the freak on the playground who scratches her face because she’s trying to get rid of the man she sees there every time she looks in the mirror?”
Cyn stopped abruptly and took a step away from him. But Avian reached for her. Wrapping his fingers around her arm.
“I know what it’s like to be fucked up. You’re not the only one. To know that you’re a mistake you can’t do anything about. I know what it’s like to be despised by everyone you know, to do things that you wish you could take back. . . .”
“Like what?” Cyn taunted. She was angry at him. Angry at this piece of information he just dropped in her lap. Angry that he could act like it was no big deal. “What do you wish you could take back?”
His gaze shifted down to her lips. “This. I know I’m going to want to take back this.”
And then he kissed her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She tasted like the rain. Cold and clean and fresh. Her fists wrapped around his shirt, and she pulled him closer, making a soft sound. Her lips were cool, but the fire inside him burned hot. His hand slid from her wrist up to her cheek. His thumb tracing a path against her skin.
There hadn’t been anyone else since Shelley died. He’d never even been tempted. Until now.
Then she pushed him away.
“Can you take me back to the house? I just want to go back.”
She turned away from him, and he saw it for the rejection that it was.
Avian nodded, and she silently climbed onto the motorcycle. She was so slight, he could barely feel her behind him. When they finally pulled up to the rectory, she left him outside without a second glance and went into the house. He put his motorcycle away and then followed her.
She was on the couch when he walked in, flipping idly through the pages of Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There. She frowned every now and then as she read.
Ten minutes later, she put the book down and disappeared from the room. The sound of a shower started. When she came back, her hair was blond instead of brown, and her skin was slightly damp. She smelled like something fruity.
Avian was trying to figure out if the smell was bubble gum or cherry, then suddenly realized what he was doing. He left the room abruptly.
His bike needed some attention. Outside, away from here.
Away from her.
~ ~ ~
After a couple of hours, Avian called it quits on the bike and went back inside the house to wash the grease from his knuckles. Cyn had fallen asleep on the couch. A tangle of blond hair was crumpled on the cushion next to her.
A wig.
That explained the sudden change in hair color right after her shower.
Her bare neck was exposed, and something caught his eye. He moved closer. Belatedly registering the fact that her real hair color was the exact same shade of red as Shelley’s, he stared down at the three freckles on the back of her neck forming a perfect triangle.
It was the same spot where Shelley had gotten her tattoo: three dots to make a triangle.
Three dots. Three freckles.
It was a perfect match.
She suddenly rolled over, and he took a step back. Not wanting to look like a . . . well, like a creepy guy who was going to murder her in her sleep like she thought.
“ ‘One, two! One, two!’ ” she mumbled. “ ‘And through and through. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!’ Snicker-snack. Snicker-snack. The blade went snicker-snack!”
He bent to pick up the book she’d been reading. That was something from the poem “Jabberwocky.”
Cyn rolled over again and tossed one arm above her head. Making little whimpering sounds. Like she was lost. Or scared. “They can’t get me. Don’t let them get me!”
He went over to her, shaking her shoulder. “Cyn. Wake up. You’re having a night—”
As soon as he touched her, garbled flashes of police sirens, bloodstained sheets, and the sound of her crying instantly filled his head. It was obvious that something bad had happened.
The question was what.
Avian was so focused on deciphering between what was real and what was just a dream that he didn’t realize he was still shaking her.
“What are you doing?”
Cyn’s voice immediately broke his concentration.
She pulled away from him and sat up. Tucking her knees against her chest, she sank back into the couch. The look on her face was fear.
Was she was afraid of him? “You were having a nightmare. I was just trying to wake you up.”
“I have a hard time sleeping sometimes. Just leave me alone.”
“Fine with me,” he said, turning to leave the room. He didn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. “Next time I won’t try to help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cyn’s hands were shaky as she sat up on the couch and massaged her temples. She’d been dreaming about something when Thirteen had woken her up, but she couldn’t remember what. Now she just felt strung out and even more exhausted. Like she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.
She was hungry, too. When she walked into the kitchen, she saw Father Montgomery’s car back in the driveway and the keys sitting on the counter. How T
hirteen had managed that she didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to stick around to ask.
I’ll go get something to eat at the diner. Marv will spot me a meal.
There were a handful of cars in the diner parking lot when she pulled in, but she didn’t see Marv’s beat-up blue pickup truck in its familiar spot. Lenny’s vintage Camaro was there, though. She glanced through the front windows to see if Declan was inside, but couldn’t see the table in the back where he liked to sit.
Go in through the kitchen. Even if he’s there, you should be able to avoid him.
Cyn went in and found Lenny bent over the disposal in the sink. “Is it stopped up again?” she asked, leaning against the doorway.
“Another damn spoon.” His arm was buried up to his elbow, but he gave a grunt and then grinned. “Got it!”
Tossing the mangled piece of silverware into the box by the back door, he shook his head. “Don’t know why Marv insists on using nice silverware. The customers aren’t coming for his place settings. He could use plastic forks for all they’d care. So, where the hell have you been?”
“Sick.” Cyn shrugged and moved to the griddle. Pancakes were ordered so often that they kept a jug of premixed batter next to it, ready to go at all times. The griddle sizzled and spit as she poured several dime-size pancakes.
Lenny washed his hands. “Does this mean you’re feeling better? Dougie Ray’s been covering your shift, and he ain’t happy about it. Marv’s not happy about it either.”
“Not sure yet.” Cyn flipped the pancakes onto a plate and took a seat at the small table. She was so hungry she was done with her meal in three minutes flat. Gathering the dirty dishes, she deposited them in the sink and impulsively gave Lenny a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t say anything to Marv about me being here, okay, Lenny?”
“Okay, but if you don’t hightail it out of here, he’s gonna find out anyway.” Lenny gestured to the open back door. “He’s parking right now.”
“I’ll go out the front.” Cyn gave him a salute and a grin. “And remember, I was never here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Lenny muttered, returning to the griddle. “I heard you the first time.” But he returned her grin.
The Beautiful and the Damned Page 10
