“Come on, daisy,” he pulled her a little harder, spinning around in the process to catch her flush against his chest and twirl her around. They’d reached the bridge now and stood a few feet from it.
“It’s getting dark,” she said, turning her head up to the sky. Closing her eyes, she took a deep inhale of the pine-tinted smell.
It had rained the other day, and the scent of spring—sweet and clean—lingered on the air, co-mingling with that of the trees. On the other side of the bridge, the pines she smelled towered over them, casting their shadows across the rusty wood planks.
When she opened her eyes again he was watching her, and she grinned liking the way he’d absentmindedly begun nibbling on his bottom lip.
“Ever wonder why the town is called Willowbrooke when there aren’t any willows around?” she asked, purposefully choosing a topic she knew he didn’t want to discuss. She wiggled a teasing brow and wrapped her arms around his tapered waist, pulling him closer.
The world felt right when he was holding her, well-known. Nothing seemed scary or overly complex. All was at ease and settled. Calm.
“You’re cute,” he said jokingly, leaning down to nip at her chin. “I didn’t bring you all the way out here to talk about the trees, Spence.”
“Really?” she feigned surprise. “Why did you bring me out here then?”
“For this.” He dropped his mouth to hers and her whole body relaxed instantly. He tasted like the orange tic-tacs he was always so obsessed with eating, the sharp flavor causing her to giggle a little against him.
“Tangy,” she explained when he pulled back. She took a step towards the bridge, but stopped when his grip tightened on her hand.
“Whoa, maybe we shouldn’t,” he told her, the twinkle still in his hazel eyes. “It isn’t supposed to be safe, remember?”
“Looks fine to me,” she countered, though she moved away and back into his arms. “We were just on it last week, remember?”
“So cute,” he repeated, receiving a tiny shove against his chest in response.
“You better think I’m cute,” she said.
“You better think I’m cute,” he parroted, twisting his arm around hers, using it to force her to her tiptoes. He took her mouth again, then tipped her backwards, dipping her so low that the ends of her long hair brushed against the emerald blades of grass.
“Upsy-daisy,” he whispered, slowly bringing her back up in the process.
“You are aware that if anyone ever finds out that’s where my nickname came from, I’ll never be able to live it down, right?” she stated.
“Oh, you love it and you know it.”
“I love you.”
He glanced between her and the bridge and she let out a loud dramatic sigh.
“Now you want to go on the bridge, don’t you?” she asked. When he grinned she rolled her eyes. “Hypocrite.”
“Be nice,” he chided, tugging her closer to it.
The warped wood creaked beneath their feet, and the bridge swayed back and forth for a moment. They both paused, allowing it time to settle, before continuing further. Below, the rushing water of the river gurgled.
Spencer leaned over the side, peering down at the black surface. During the warm Summer days they’d been able to see straight to the bottom, but at night it was nothing but sweeping darkness. She shivered.
“Here,” Micah tore off his thin navy sweatshirt and draped it over her shoulders. His arms banded around her waist and he rested his chin atop her head.
It was chillier then they’d expected when making the decision to come out here, and darker. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the woods to their left, the trees still as stone, tall black pillars standing guard opposite side of the bridge.
“Remember when you used to do cartwheels over this thing?” Micah said then, breaking the silence. “When you and Syd were preparing for cheerleading tryouts?”
“And you couldn’t manage a single one,” she chuckled.
“I could to!” He stepped away from her, her body instantly missing the warmth of his.
Spencer turned with the frown already in place.
He was taking position on the other side of the bridge, closer to the trees. He rubbed his palms together and a deep look of concentration passed over his face.
“Micah,” she said, “you shouldn’t. It isn’t safe.”
“It’ll be fine,” he disagreed with a bold laugh. “I promise. It’s been around forever, I’m sure it can stand another night.”
She wanted to argue, but the flash of excitement in his hazel eyes had her stopping. His good moods were infectious, as was his love of a challenge. She supposed it really couldn’t hurt too much.
Micah readied himself, turning to his side and stretching his arms above his head. He flashed her one last grin and then twisted. His body moved into a half arch before tumbling to the ground with a loud snapping sound. He lay there on his back, smiling up at the sky despite how much that had to have hurt.
Spencer was already taking a step towards him when another creak rented the air. The ground beneath them shook, and she grabbed onto the ledge of the railing.
Micah was in the process of sitting up, eyes going wide. A second before he would have made it to his feet, a chunk of the bridge beneath him cracked in two and fell away.
Spencer registered the loud snapping sound a second too late. The plank under her left foot dropped out from under her, slamming her body down. Her sudden weight caused another few to loosen and tumble to the raging waters below. She barely caught herself from joining them, arms clinging to the floor of the bridge while the rest of her body now dangled precariously through the hole.
She’d screamed when she’d fallen, and now through the panic she saw that Micah was busily trying to hold himself up as well.
They were right next to each other, though turned so that their backs almost rubbed.
“Hold on, Spencer,” he ordered. “Just hold on!”
She slipped a little, using her nails to dig into one of the remaining boards. Tiny prickles of pain shot up her fingers at the move, and she noticed that she was crying when the world grew momentarily blurry.
Before she even knew what was going on, the piece still holding her up gave way. Something sharp pierced her side and agony assailed her, almost enough to block out the panic brought on by the falling sensation she experienced next.
It didn’t last long. One second she was watching Micah’s eyes go wide, and the next she was surrounded by water so deep that she could barely see the moon’s glow above. She lifted her arms, trying to reach for the surface but the current swept her up in its clutches, tossing her around to the point she didn’t know which way was up anymore.
She thought about Micah, felt the weight of his body slam into her own and knew that he’d fallen as well; then her mind clouded with the red hot haze of pain in her side. Her lungs were beginning to burn, the sensation becoming too much too quickly.
Then she rammed into something solid, her head snapping back against it hard enough that she was knocked out in an instant. One second awake, the next…
Opening her eyes to a massive white room, standing in a puddle a mixture of river water and her own blood. She knew with a certainty she’d never felt before that she was dead, that this was the meeting place of her world and whatever came next. The room was huge, with a winding staircase and an indoor balcony that hovered in front of her. Everything was pristine, a bright sparkly white that should have been blinding, but wasn’t.
All of the fear she’d been feeling dissipated, leaving her with a sort of melted feeling. She was fine with the fact she was dead. Accepted that her brief life was over, and acknowledged that there was something new ahead. She was at peace.
At peace for only a few short breaths before the events crashed back into her and she realized with horror a single heart stopping fact.
She was alone.
* * *
She finished her story and ke
pt her gaze on the ground. She’d never told it to anyone before, not like that, and most definitely not the part about her being in the afterlife.
The police had found her almost a mile down the river from the bridge. There’d been a large piece of wood jabbed straight through her side, a crack at the back of her skull. She hadn’t been breathing. The doctors later told her that the wood had stabbed one of her lungs, causing it to collapse in on itself. Amazingly enough, they’d somehow managed to restart her heart in the ambulance, affectively bringing her back from the dead.
Micah hadn’t been as lucky. They’d estimated he’d managed to avoid the large rocks, but had been held under the current too long. He’d drowned, and none of their attempts had managed to save him.
Hadrian had lowered her back down to the bed and was sitting next to her, so close that their thighs touched. Neither he nor Quinn had spoken since the beginning.
Spencer felt their gazes boring into her, his even more intense than her friend’s. Finally not able to bare the silence anymore, she looked at him from underneath her lashes.
The second she made eye contact he glanced away, removing the arm he’d placed around her and the hand on her hip. He stood, moving back over to one of the windows. Leaning against the wall, he pulled back the curtain to check outside, even though it was obvious that there was nothing strange there.
“Just so we’re clear,” Quinn said then. “You…died?”
She nodded.
“And actually went to the other side?”
“Technically she only made it to the river Acheron,” Hadrian told them in the same soft tone.
“Oh my god!” She dropped down next to her, shaking the bed in the process. The move jostled Spencer and a small sound of pain slipped past her lips. “Shit! Sorry!” Quinn sprang back up, only resulting in another too sudden movement.
“Be careful,” Hadrian growled, storming back over to them. He dropped to his knees in front of Spencer, ignoring her shocked gasp. She was still without her shirt, and he delicately lifted his palm, placing it over the bruise that had grown larger and uglier since they’d checked it in the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, the words coming out breathy and strange to her own ears. Since when did she sound like that anyway?
“You’re bleeding internally,” he informed her in a detached voice. “I need to heal you.”
“You can do that?”
“She’s what?!” Quinn asked.
“The fall must have been worse than she thought,” he answered.
A warmth began spreading out from his palm, and the blue and purple splotch slowly receded, giving way to healthy pink flesh. It took only a handful of moments, and then he was rising back to his feet and pulling away.
Spencer tenderly touched the spot on her side, bracing herself for a pain that didn’t come. Blinking she lifted her eyes back to him. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, appearing completely impassive. It was obvious that he wished he was anywhere but there. He probably thought he’d just wasted his night with them, listening to her sob story about a death that didn’t even stick.
“Whatever,” he said, pretty much confirming everything she’d just assumed about him.
“Couldn’t have done it a little earlier?” She tried desperately to rein her temper in, but it slipped out anyway. “It didn’t exactly feel like I was being cuddled by puppies.”
“Before it was just a bruise. I wasn’t aware that it was something more serious.”
“And you didn’t want to waste your energy healing me, unless you absolutely had to, that right?”
“If she was marked, then how come she didn’t die? Syd needed you and Charlie to bring her back. Did someone do the same thing for Spencer?” Quinn interrupted them, clearly wanting to stop a full-on argument from taking place.
That piqued her interest. It had never crossed her mind before, but now she found herself turning to Hadrian, searching him for any sign of answers. She’d always just assumed that she’d been brought back by the EMTs.
“The mark of Thayer acts as a scar,” he told them. “Markings of the soul’s trials. I didn’t pull her out. If I had, it would be visible to all.”
Sensing that he wasn’t going to say anymore on the subject, Spencer tapped her foot in annoyance. “What are we going to do about this ghost problem? Will it come back or not?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said. “And you didn’t do anything beforehand?”
“Like what?” She had no clue what he was getting at. A quick glance towards Quinn showed she was just as in the dark.
“Think of someone you know who’s deceased? Imagine the Underworld or anything like that, and the souls inside?”
“And I would be thinking about those things…why?”
His expression hardened and he headed for the door, stopping right under the doorway. He hesitated, obviously wanting nothing more than to just get out of there. There was some sort of internal struggle taking place, and then he twisted so that he could properly glare at her over his right shoulder.
“The ghost was a malicious spirit sent to scare you,” he divulged. “Because you already bare the mark from a previous excursion, there’s no way for me to see whether you’ve been marked again, though I doubt it.”
“Why’s that?” She needed him to be sure. Walking around fearing for her life wasn’t really top on her to do list.
“There’s no reason for you to be,” he shrugged as if that should explain all. “I suggest you go stay somewhere else, perhaps at Quinn or Syd’s house. You shouldn’t be alone here, at least not until I can figure some things out.”
Cause that was helpful. Not.
“Sydney’s dad is away on a business trip,” Quinn put in. “Very last minute. Actually that’s why I came here to begin with. She invited us over for a girl’s night.”
“Perfect,” he said before she could speak. “Go to that. I’ll send the Ferryman for you at midnight.”
“You can’t just make decisions for me,” Spencer pointed out, then the last part of his statement hit her and she straightened. “The deal? We’re back on?”
“It was never off,” he obviously thought she was stupid for forgetting. He turned, and the second he stepped out of the room, vanished into thin air before she could even think up a retort.
“Um,” Quinn tilted her head, watching the empty doorway. “Does he do that often?”
Spencer heaved a sigh in response.
Chapter 18:
“It’s too bad that yours isn’t visible,” Syd said, bending to add another layer of bubble gum pink nail polish to her pinky toe. “Then we could have matching tattoos.”
“Yeah, cause the mark of death is totally my idea of great permanent ink,” Spencer countered, secretly asking Quinn if their friend was crazy with a look. She finished her left foot and extended her leg to examine it.
“What’s with the white?” Syd asked then. “You know, it’s not even considered a color.”
“Sydney’s become obsessed with the new art teacher,” Quinn filled in. “Mr. Mathews is apparently a five on the one to five scale. People have been talking about him since the first day of school. He’s only thirty-three or whatever, so considered ‘acceptable’ ogling material.”
“That’s not why I’m into the class,” Syd argued, then flashed them a sly smile. “That’s just a bonus. Art is actually way interesting. Like, for instance, did you know when you add black to a color to make it darker it’s called a shade? And when you add white it’s called a tint. There are also all these different names and things for them, such as complimentary colors. That’s why blue and orange look so good with one another. Or yellow and purple.”
“The more you know,” Quinn joked.
“Speaking of,” Spencer said, “you guys are taking this whole thing pretty well.”
“What, you mean the fact your boyfriend is a ghost and the God of the Dead has the hots for you?” Syd lifted a thin shoulder
nonchalantly. “Whatevs.”
Spencer stilled with the wand hanging over her other foot. She must be kidding….right? A drop of nail polish plopped onto her then and she quickly grabbed a tissue to dab it away before it dried.
“It’s not like that,” she told them, tossing the tissue into the trash and finding renewed interest in her nails. “The guy can barely even stand me.”
“Really?” Quinn quirked a dark brow. “Is that why he showed up the second I texted saying you were in trouble?”
“Girl’s got a point,” Syd agreed. Her blue eyes brightened suddenly. “And oh my god, I think I just figured out why you’re going with the color-that-isn’t.”
“Why?” Quinn asked, feeling left out.
“Hadrian’s always wearing it.”
Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “How the hell do you know that?”
Syd tipped her gaze up towards the ceiling and fluffed her blond hair in mock show. “Hello? Which out of the three of us is most into fashion? Me. Of course I’m gonna notice when the hot new guy comes in dressed to impress.”
“He was never ‘dressed to impress’,” Spencer replied.
“I beg to differ.”
“It’s ok, Spence,” Quinn told her. “No one’s going to blame you for finding Hadrian attractive. Even knowing who he really is doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about him sometimes.”
“You do what?” And why did that bother her so much? “This is ridiculous. There’s nothing going on between me and Hades, guys. Honestly. It’s next to impossible to get the two of us to even stand in the same room as one another without all hell—no pun intended—breaking loose.”
It felt good sitting around acting like kids with them. She’d missed it. Even if it did mean she wasn’t going to be at her place to see Micah tonight. Not that he had the same concerns. They’d left an hour after Hadrian had, and there’d still been no sign of him. She was starting to feel ditched. By her dead boyfriend.
Ugh.
Syd shifted onto her stomach and kicked her feet in the air. “Still, I wouldn’t let Micah see the two of you together.”
Unhinged Page 18
