“Why me?” I choke out, pressure building in my chest.
How can this be happening? How can only weeks ago my main concern be Foster leaving, and now I’m sitting here with a dead girl discussing how I’m going to save other dead girls.
“Because you’ve seen death—seen what’s on the other side of the veil—that divides the living from the dead. And now you’re here and you’re cursed with being able to see the dead.” She slides closer and blood trickles on top of my hand. “You can see the truth. But be careful who knows that. Be careful of the evil ones. They’ll try to keep you from the truth.”
“The evil ones, like that thing in the forest?” I ask, but she’s already fading away.
Fading away like a ghost.
Like a dead girl rotting in an unmarked grave.
But before she fades away completely, she whispers one last set of haunting words.
“The evil ones are both ghosts and humans. Evil lies everywhere, Harlynn, even in places we never expect.”
The room grows chillingly quiet after that as she evaporates, taking her haunting whispers with her. And I’m left trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to solve the deaths of these girls. And how in the hell I’m going to tell my mom that I know Beth is dead without looking like I’m insane. What am I supposed to say? That I can see the dead now because I died for a moment. Yeah, that’s going to go over really well. I think she’s already questioning my sanity as it is.
Sighing in frustration, I reach for my laptop to do more research on this feather mark I’ve been branded with, and this gift—or curse, depending on how you want to look at it—of being able to communicate with the dead.
An hour later, I’m nowhere near closer to finding the truth, so I decide to do a search on disappearances in this town. And holy motherships, Beth was right. An abundance of girls have gone missing in this town. Some even date back all the way to the 1960s, which leaves me doubting they could all be related. Although, a lot of them have gone missing at parties, which is odd.
Could they somehow be connected? How, though? And why have hardly any of the bodies been found? In fact, Paige’s is the only one that’s been found.
Paige, who I dreamed about.
Could that mean something?
I keep searching for more information, but eventually my eyelids grow heavy. I fight going to sleep for as long as I can, not wanting to go into the darkness again. But ultimately, it wins and I have to succumb to it.
Twenty-Five
Harlynn
Foster is kissing me. We’re in his truck. His lips are on mine and his hands are everywhere. Part of me doesn’t want him to touch me anymore, but I can’t seem to get the words to leave my lips. Then a bright light shines through the darkness, and suddenly he’s gone, yet I can’t remember him leaving.
Time is moving funny.
I blink through the confusion, blink against the light as I glance behind the truck. Two figures stand in the light, just shadows. I can hear shouting. Then a loud crash. The truck is moving… forward.
But that can’t be right.
Forward is the edge of the cliff—
Splash!
The coldness of the water yanks me from my dizziness.
I’m in the truck alone. Water and darkness are surrounding me. My head hurts—my entire body does.
I cry out in pain, but water splashing in my face suffocates the noise.
I jerk back, realizing I’m sinking.
Sinking into the lake.
I panic, frantically glancing around, trying to find a way out, but water is coming at me from every angle. I can’t swim. I’m going to die here.
Then a hand touches my face.
“I’ve got you,” someone whispers in my ear. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Har.”
I blink the water from my eyes and more shock whips through me.
Kingsley is floating in the water in front of me, his blonde hair soaked and swept back, moonlight trickling across his face.
Moonlight? How is moonlight getting in here?
“H-How d-did you g-get in here?” I chatter as the coldness of the water seeps into my bones.
“I swam from the shore after I saw the truck fall in.” His fingers splay across my cheek. “Har, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re afraid, but we’ve got maybe twenty seconds tops before the cab fills up with water, so we need to get out of here now.”
“How is it not f-full of w-water y-yet?” I ask through chattering teeth.
He doesn’t answer, instead saying, “We’re going to have to swim out of here. I know you’re afraid of water, but you’re going to have to trust me that it’ll be okay.”
I shake my head as the water rises higher, yet somehow I’m getting warmer—or just feeling the cold less. “I can’t swim, Kingsley.”
His other hand finds my cheek, so he’s cupping my face. “I know that, so I’m going to swim us out of here. You’ll have to trust me, though.”
Swim us out of here? Trust Kingsley?
Both sound impossible.
“I know it’s scary and that you don’t trust me,” he says like he can read my mind. “But I pinkie swear I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll get us out of here.” He hitches his pinkie with mine while keeping his other hand on my face.
I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. The water is to my chin now.
“I don’t think I can do it. I can’t swim… And I…”
“You can do it,” he insists with determination. “You’re strong. I know you are. And I need you to do this because I’m not going to leave without you. If you don’t go, I don’t go.”
The water reaches the bottom of my lips then.
I’m running out of time, and while I’m terrified, I’m not about to let him die because of me.
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “Okay, I trust you.”
Letting out a loud exhale, he removes his hand from my cheek but only to slide it down to my other hand.
“Take a deep breath,” he instructs. “Then go down under the water. And whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand.”
I nod again and do what he says, holding his gaze as I take a deep inhale then duck my head under the water.
As darkness engulfs me, I clutch onto his hand. He pulls me forward, further into the darkness, but I can see light trickling from somewhere. Then I feel my fingers slip from his, and I start to sink downward.
I try to swim, but I keep sinking…
And sinking…
And sinking—
Fingers lace through mine and pull me upward.
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you…”
My eyes slowly open to sunlight cascading across my face. I blink a few times, the memory of what happened swirling around in my brain like a fog lifting.
Foster had been out of the truck when it went over the cliff. Someone else had been on the cliff with us. I’m not sure how Foster’s truck got into the water, but I’m starting to wonder if Foster might know—if he was standing near the back of the truck when it went over. One thing’s for certain. Two people definitely were standing behind that truck when it went over the cliff.
I think I need to tell the detective what I can remember now. But I need to talk to Kingsley first and see why he hasn’t told me he saved me that night. Although, he may have told me last night if cops hadn’t have shown up.
Deciding I’ll talk to him first then go tell my mom I need to talk to the detective, I climb out of bed. Then I head to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once I wash the dirt from last night off my skin, I climb out, dry off, and pull on a pair of cutoffs and a tank top, along with some sandals. I leave my hair down and swept to the side, not bothering to put any makeup on.
Only when I’m about to leave the house do I realize how quiet it is.
Is no one home?
I call out to my parents a few times, but no one answers, so I check my phone for messages.
Mom: Hey honey. Your dad and I are over at the Avertonson’s helping load Foster’s stuff into the truck. I wanted to let you sleep in since I know you stayed up pretty late with Foster. Come over when you wake up, okay?
I have another text and a voicemail. The voicemail is from my boss so I listen to that first. He’s wondering when I’m planning on returning to work, but adds that there’s no rush. Still, I think it might be time to at least get that piece of my old life back, since I need money for college. So I call him back and we make an agreement that I’ll return on Thursday.
Next, I move onto the unread message on my phone. It’s from Foster. I just about leave it unread, but after what was said between us last night, I need to know what he has to say.
Foster: I don’t want to leave with us fighting. I’m taking off later this afternoon, but please come say goodbye to me. And we can make plans for when you’re going to visit me.
A frown forms on my lips. It’s like he thinks the fight last night was just some mild argument between us and I’ll get over it.
“He’s delusional,” I mutter, stuffing my phone into my pocket without replying to him.
Then I step outside into the sunlight and the warm summer-kissed air. Since it’s Saturday, many of my neighbors are outside, working on their yards, cars, or just hanging out. While their presence buzzes through the air, I feel a strange darkness clouding over me. Perhaps because of what I discovered about Foster. I don’t know, though, it feels like more than that. As if darkness is chasing my heels. The sensation nearly becomes too much and I damn near turn around and run home. But my feet continue moving forward, wanting to make it to Kingsley, to talk to him, to tell him what I know.
To thank him.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank him enough.
But I’ll try to find a way to. Somehow.
I’m racking my brain for ways to do just that when the wound beneath my bandage begins to throb. My head soon follows, my temples pounding.
“Evil is near,” the wind whispers in my ear.
A coldness trickles up the back of my neck and the feeling that I’m being watched crawls through me. My muscles ravel into tight knots as I peer around, but nothing appears out of the ordinary. That doesn’t keep me from quickening my pace, and I practically jog the rest of the distance to the Avertonson’s.
When I reach the fence line of the house, I slow to a stop not only to catch my breath, but to survey the situation in the driveway.
My parents are chatting with Kingsley’s parents, and Foster is stacking boxes in the back of his truck with a couple of his friends. I have zero desire to see Foster or his friends, and I’m not too thrilled at the idea of being around my parents while they’re with the Avertonsons. I can only imagine what they’ve talked about this morning. Probably how Foster announced last night that we’re dating. As soon as my parents go home, I’m going to have a nice little chat about how untrue that is, but I can’t do that while they’re here.
There’s also one other problem.
If I show up and announce I’m here to see Kingsley, a lot of drama is going to break loose. And I have no desire to deal with that right now. No, I have much bigger issues I need to handle first before I attempt to ease everyone into the fact that I’m Kingsley’s friend. Well, if he even wants to be my friend. I’m not certain where we stand other than he saved my life.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I decide not to use the driveway to get into the house and backtrack in the direction I just came from. When I reach the corner of the street, I slip between the fences that divide the backyards of the houses from the forest, and use the narrow, flattened path to head to the Avertonson’s. The trees haunt me in the distance as I make my way up the path, the shadows of figures dancing against the breeze and reaching out to me. That unsettling sensation of being watched creeps through me again and I end up running until I reach the back door of the Avertonson’s house.
I crack the door open before I walk in, listening to make sure no one has gone inside. The house is silent so I slip inside, hurry up the stairway, and to Kingsley’s shut bedroom door. It suddenly dawns on me he might not even be home. He was in jail last night. What if he’s still there? Or what if he went over to Porter’s afterward? Over the years, Kingsley has started spending more and more time away from home.
But I guess there’s only one way to find out if he’s here.
Inhaling and exhaling, I lightly knock on his door, aware I’m slightly nervous. Not in a bad way, but in a scary, unfamiliar way.
My nervousness only increases when I hear someone heading up the stairway. In a panicked decision, I slip into Kingsley’s room to hide. When I get inside, I find him lying in his bed, still wearing the same clothes he had on last night.
Strands of his blonde hair are askew, his eyelids are shut, and his chest is lifting and falling with each soft breath he takes. Like the few times I’ve been around him since the accident, calmness pours over me as soon as I lay eyes on him. But underneath the sensation is a mild flutter of excitement that only intensifies as I inch over to his bed.
My heart is an erratic mess in my chest as I stare down at him, craving to touch him, to cup his cheek like he did mine while we were in that lake. Maybe it’s wrong—touching him while he’s asleep, and after how I treated him—but my fingers drift toward him anyway and brush across his cheek, tracing the lines of his face then his lips.
These lips, they saved me.
They’re the reason I’m alive today—
Kingsley’s eyelids suddenly flutter open and his gaze collides with mine. Grogginess and confusion mask his expression as he blinks up at me.
“I’m dreaming, right?” he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face. “I have to be…” Then he reaches up, cups the back of my head, and guides my lips to his.
Warm lips on mine…
Breathing air into my lungs…
Breathing life into me…
Kingsley’s lips…
My protector…
I kiss him back, letting his tongue slip into my mouth, memories of the last time we kissed twirling around me.
“Har…” He whispers with his eyes shut. Then he kisses me again, sucking on my bottom lip, while pulling my body onto his.
I easily fall onto him and don’t even flinch when he flips us over so his body is lined over mine. His hands travel up and down my sides and all I can think is more, more, more. Nothing fills my mind but him, him, him.
I clutch onto him, my fingernails digging into the back of his shirt as my legs hitch around his waist. He abruptly tenses and pulls back, his gaze searching mine.
“Wait…” Puzzlement etches across his face. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
I lick my lips. “No.”
His expression drops and so does my heart as he pushes off me.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he scoots to the edge of the bed and lowers his head into his hands. “I was having this dream… and then when I opened my eyes, you were here and I…” He shakes his head, muttering incoherently underneath his breath.
I scoot to the edge of the bed to sit beside him. “It’s okay,” I say quietly, but feel a bit stupid.
He thought he was sleeping.
He never really wanted to kiss me.
He lifts his head and frowns at me. “It’s not okay. You’re… You’re Foster’s.”
I grit my teeth so damn hard my jaw aches. “I’m not Foster’s. And I don’t want to be… I don’t want to be his anything. Ever.” I cup my hand around the pendant. “He’s a liar and he has to control everything. And… Well, I’m tired of it.”
Doubt shadows his eyes. He doesn’t fully believe me, which is understandable.
It’s time to say what I came over here to say…
“I know for sure he didn’t save me that night… That he wasn’t even in the truck with me when it went over the cliff,” I pause, looking at him. “I also know that you were there.”
He t
enses.
“I know you saved me Kings—I remember,” I continue. “Not all of it, like how you got into the truck. But I remember how you promised you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I also remember how you said if I didn’t swim out of there, you’d stay with me… Die with me…” A faltering breath fumbles from my lips as I nervously reach over and hitch my pinkie with his. “I remember your pinkie promise.”
He stares down at our interlocked pinkies. “I wanted to tell you… I was going to… But…” He huffs out a breath as he looks up at me, remorse flowing from his eyes. “The reason I was there at the lake that night… no one can know why I was there. If I came forward and said I saved you, the wrong people could find out and…” He doesn’t finish, sighing. “Plus, Foster claimed he saved you, and I knew everyone would believe him over me.”
“I’m not quite sure I understand everything you’re trying to say.”
“I know. And I’m being vague on purpose, because I’m not supposed to tell anyone the truth,” he says and I frown. “I want to tell you,” he adds. “But it’s risky.”
“It’s fine if you don’t.” Although, I’m unsure if it is.
Beth has been telling me to get to the truth and at the first sign of a hurdle, I’m backing away.
“What if I promised to keep it a secret?” I lift our hitched pinkies up between us. “I’ll even pinkie swear it.” When he hesitates, I add, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me, but I still can’t remember a lot of what happened that night, and I’m hoping if you tell me what you know about it, it may spark some recognition.”
He contemplates for what feels like forever. “You remember that guy you saw Porter and I talking to last night?”
That was not what I was expecting him to say, but I nod.
“Well, he’s an undercover cop that’s working with me while I’m an informant—you know what that is right?” he asks and I nod. “Well, Porter’s one too. We have been for a couple of months… since we were arrested for… drug possession.” He looks away, rubbing his free hand across his face. “Since we’d both been arrested a couple of times before that and we were eighteen, we were probably going to get jail time, but the police struck a deal with us. I can’t get into too many of the details, but we’ve been working to try to find out who’s behind the drugs getting dealt in this town, especially the ones being slipped into drinks and laced into joints. On the night of the accident, I was there at the lake, meeting with the officer in charge of the case to give him an update on some things. We were actually supposed to meet somewhere else, but at the last second I changed the location. And I’m so glad I did because if I hadn’t…” He exhales shakily. “But anyway were in my car when Foster’s truck went over… And I… I knew you were in there… So I…” He struggles to maintain an even tone, his pinkie trembling in mine. “I swam out there, found you in the truck, and swam you to the shore. But you swallowed too much water and for a moment, I thought…” He smashes his quivering lips together.
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 18
