Give this to me. Hot breath tickled his neck as the loop repeated. Liam’s head rolled off his shoulders. Screaming, fire, agony . . . all coupled with the crippling realization that none of it would have happened if he’d just said no.
I deserve this. It wasn’t his thought, but a foreign one. A malevolent being perched on his chest, and damn if its voice didn’t sound familiar.
Somehow, he knew the voice wanted him to repeat the words. I. Deserve. This.
And he did, didn’t he? Wren had seen it, his father had seen it, and the people whispering around town had seen the truth about him. Isaac deserved to die for what he’d done, for what he’d allowed to happen.
The pain stopped. Isaac felt a tugging at the left side of his throat as his skin broke. After a few minutes that stretched on for days, the pressure on his chest eased as the creature slid off of him. Gradually, the smell of smoke dissipated. He could no longer sense the malevolent presence in the room.
Thunk, creak, clack, clink.
His face itched. When his hand rose to scratch at his nose, Isaac realized the paralysis had worn off. His fingers touched something rough and powdery. He frowned, his eyes opening to find bits of sheetrock and ceiling plaster had rained down from the ceiling like snow.
What? Befuddled, he rubbed his eyes.
Thunk, creak, clack, clink, crack! The fan ripped free of the ceiling, then jerked to a stop as the wiring went taut. Before Isaac could react, the wires broke free, pulling down a plate of metal that had been installed in the ceiling. The fixture dropped, catching him full force and slamming him back down to the bed, just as the sheer edge of the metal sliced into his neck.
Chapter 14: Tess
Thursday, September 15th
I COULD SEE BONFIRES feeling great on some cold, crisp night somewhere farther north. But the temperature in Fairdealings hadn’t dropped below eighty since the sun went down, and the humidity tacked on another ten degrees. Sweat pricked at my back as I stayed near Josh, who despite the awkward start of our date, kept a loose arm around me as he chatted with David Hendrix.
This isn’t real.
I glanced around, noticing the surreal landscape for the first time. A mix of pine and oak trees towered above us, outlines twisted and shadows warped. Leaves, twigs, and pine straw snapped beneath my feet like breaking bones. In the center of the crowd, the bonfire crackled, casting blood-red shadows on the football players gathered around the flames.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Wait a minute, just football players? I hadn’t known about the bonfires until earlier today, but I’d gotten the impression everyone in the school but a few unfortunates attended. Why was I the only girl here? “Hey, Josh, why—” Eh, maybe tact was the way to go. “Is Felicity coming tonight?”
Thunk, creak, clack, clink.
“Yeah, she should be—” Josh craned his neck around, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Yo, David?” he called. “Why is this such a sausage fest?”
“Cheerleading thing.” David yelled back, tapping a keg. “I think all the girls were gonna catch a ride with Felicity later.”
Okay, then where was everyone else?
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Above me, the moon began its descent into shadow, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“Drink?” Josh pushed another red solo cup into my hand.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
Resisting the urge to wrinkle my nose, I took a polite sip. I wasn’t anti-drinking or anything, but to me, beer tasted like liquefied aluminum.
Loud chattering voices competed against the music, but the voices didn’t match the people around me. I heard sobbing and whispering instead of laughter and jeers. The football players stood stock still around the fire. Their outlines looked fuzzy, like I’d clicked on the blur function in Photoshop.
Then all at once, focus snapped back into place, and I found myself surrounded by loud, laughing boys. I tried to keep up with the conversation, but it was so peppered with inside jokes, they might as well be speaking French.
“State?” David Hendrix asked.
“State!” several others cried.
“We’re gonna make it, baby!” Chris Hendrix yelled.
“All the way!” Liam’s winked at me from where his head lay several feet from his body on the forest floor.
What state? Alabama wasn’t this exciting. I took another sip of my drink, my head buzzing with confusion.
Josh seemed to notice my discomfort. “Want to head someplace more private?”
I froze. Blood trickled down Josh’s face, and his features twisted and morphed into something pale with wide dark eyes and razor-sharp teeth. The creature roared at me, and I shrieked, stumbling backward.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Blood everywhere. Something hot, so hot it burned. I’m sorry, Chris whispered as a blade slid up his wrist. I deserve this, Isaac cried as a ceiling fan crashed down from the ceiling.
I bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, my eyes darting around the empty room. Nothing.
Just a nightmare. You’re okay, remember? Not a scratch. The clock beside Derrick’s bed told me it wasn’t even ten yet. Groaning, I massaged my throbbing forehead. Judging by the murmured voices drifting through the door, the argument that sent me to bed early was far from over.
I lay back on Derrick’s pillow trying really hard not to think about home. I had no reason to be homesick. But lying in someone else’s bed in their dark room with a horrible headache, ignoring the family fight down the hall, and looking up at the peeling stars on someone else’s ceiling made one thing abundantly clear—I missed my bed, my room, my house, my mom. My real mom, not the twisted version of her created by the sickness. I wanted to tell her everything that had happened lately. I wanted her to tell me it was okay. I just . . . wanted.
The stars blurred as hot tears pricked at my eyes. The poor stars tried their best to glow but only managed a sickly green. I tried to push my tears back, the homesickness, the wanting, the headache, all of it. Grimacing, I touched the skin behind my ear, unsurprised to find I could actually feel my pulse beating there. The thin layer of skin rose and fell with each beat.
Burying my head in the pillow, I tried to drown out the sound of Derrick and his mother arguing in the living room, but it was no use. I sat up in bed, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. The light flickered, then held, illuminating the darkened corners of Derrick’s room.
Flinching at the brightness, I reached for my sketchbook and pencils. As I flipped through my drawings without seeing them, a distant part of me noticed there were fewer empty pages in the book than I’d expected. But at last I found one and touched the pencil to the pristine paper.
I got so sucked into my drawing, I barely noticed the phone ringing. When the sheriff’s car pulled out of the driveway, I didn’t pause to wonder where she was going so late. Drawing didn’t normally feel like drowning, but everything else was off tonight, so why not this? Hours crawled by as I disappeared into lines and shadows. My hand moved across the page without direction, sketching without thought. Sitting hunched over in the middle of the bed with a sketchbook in my lap wasn’t the most comfortable or productive position, but I didn’t notice the pain.
I didn’t notice anything.
Chapter 15: Derrick
Thursday, September 15th
MOISTURE PRICKED against my upper lip. I grimaced, gripping the countertop in an effort to stay on my feet. The kitchen? When did I walk into the kitchen? I shook my head, trying to uncloud my befuddled thoughts.
“We are not done!” Mom declared, storming into the kitchen.
I swiped at my nose and gritted my teeth.
She blinked, as though seeing me for the first time.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“I got in a fight with this kid at school. You might have heard about it.”
She reached past me and grabbed the paper towels. “I didn’t realize he got any blows in. When did your nose start bleeding? Are you hurt anywhere else? Do we need to—”
“It seriously never occurred to you that he hit back?” My voice sounded muffled beneath the paper towel.
“He didn’t look like you gave him a chance.”
I grimaced, cleaned my face off, and then tossed the bloodied paper towels in the trash.
She looked me up and down, gaze piercing. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she moved to the table, pushed a chair back for me, and motioned for me to sit down. I complied.
When she spoke again, her words came slower, calmer. “Now, let’s talk community service.” Mom selected two mugs then pressed a button on the coffee maker. “You have choices, but let’s go ahead and eliminate anything remotely fun and interesting, shall we? This is a punishment, after all.” She set a cup of cocoa in front of me and placed her mug under the machine.
“Gee, that’s what this conversation was missing. Hot chocolate.”
Mom quirked her eyebrows. “You seem to be under the impression that since you’re in so much trouble already, sarcasm isn’t going to hurt anything. You’re wrong.”
I gritted my teeth. There was no good way to point out I was matching her tone for tone.
“Besides, I’m on call.” She added a dollop of Bailey’s flavored Cool Whip to her cup. “Believe me, I’d prefer something stronger after the day I’ve had.”
I almost said “me, too,” then thought better of it. She wouldn’t be amused by that quip. Not tonight.
“Community service is good for my applications anyway,” I said after a minute. “I can put in some hours at Grandpa’s nursing home.”
“Spending time with your grandfather isn’t punishment. And before you ask, neither is walking dogs at the Humane Society.” The phone rang, and Mom sighed, holding up a hand. “We’re not done.”
“Are we ever?” I grumbled as she answered the phone and walked out of the kitchen. A few seconds later she returned, grabbing her car keys off the table. “I’m going in.”
“Will you get back in time for school?” I pushed off the table and followed her through the living room. “I don’t have keys anymore, remember?”
“Take the bus.” She pulled the door open and stepped out, ending the discussion.
Did the bus even stop here anymore? Tess and I hadn’t signed up for the bus route this year. You’ll find out tomorrow. Maybe I’d get to stay home. “Be safe.”
A part of me always worried if I didn’t say it, if I forgot, she wouldn’t come home. Like the words worked like a magic charm.
They hadn’t helped Dad.
She smiled and said the same thing she said every night, “Always.”
After she closed the door, I stood in the entryway for a moment, not sure what to do in the sudden silence. A glance down the hall showed me the light in my bedroom was on. But when I knocked on the door, Tess didn’t answer.
Did she fall asleep with the light on? I almost opened the door to check on her then thought better of it. Things were different with her living here. Boundaries had changed, and I wasn’t exactly sure where they lay anymore.
Sighing, I headed back to my couch and flopped down. Sleep came in fitful waves as I tossed and turned. I kept seeing my fist connect with Josh Worthington’s face. Tess’s soft voice somehow sounded clear in the din of all my thoughts. I could never be afraid of you, Derrick.
Friday, September 16th
MORNING BROUGHT the blaring sound of my alarm from down the hall. Groggy, I sat up on the couch and rubbed my eyes, silencing my phone before my alarm could add to the cacophony.
She didn’t shut the alarm off. It just kept going.
And going.
And going.
Aggravation propelled me to my feet, and I shuffled down the hall, fighting back a yawn. Too tired to think better of it, I opened the door. “Hey Tess, the button’s on the—”
Tess sat on the bed, hunched over her sketchpad, drawing with a nub of a pencil, completely oblivious to the alarm blaring not a foot away from her. She didn’t even glance up as I entered the room.
“Tess?” I shut off the alarm. “Hey? Did you not hear that? Tess?”
She started in surprise and dropped the pencil. “Derrick.” Her voice lilted in an odd way as she glanced up at me, her eyes shining with a feverish gleam. “You’ve run out of ink.” She motioned to my printer.
I was out of ink? How many cards did she make? We’d made copies of the first batch because she didn’t want the pencil to smear when she folded the cards, but I hadn’t planned on her making more than a handful of the things. I plucked the sketchbook from her hand and flipped through, surprised to find the entire book full of the flowing, abstract sketches of branches and vines. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I’ll make the copies at school.” She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Mrs. Atkins is not going to let you make copies.” That woman guarded the school copier with an almost rabid dedication.
“Mr. Gilbert spoke with her yesterday.” Tess moved past me and reached for her book bag, rifling through until she found a pair of jeans. “She’s agreed to make as many as I need.”
I almost dropped the sketchbook. “Mr. Gilbert spoke to Mrs. Atkins? On purpose?”
“All he had to do was smile and say ‘please’. Amazing how that works.” Something about the smirk twisting Tess’s lips seemed off.
Man, I needed caffeine. It was way too early to deal with . . . whatever this was. “Well . . . great?” I handed her back the book. “But we still can’t deliver these today. Mom took away my keys, remember?”
“I’m sure you can think of something.” She put her hand on my chest as she looked up at me through thick lashes and shot me a dazzling grin. “Please?”
“Ha, ha,” I said dryly, moving back. “That doesn’t work on—Christ!” The heat from her hand scorched through the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Derrick?” She stared at her hand like it had somehow betrayed her, then drew back, blinking rapidly. “I don’t—I didn’t—I—” Her knees gave out.
“Tess!” I caught her before she could hit the floor. “Okay, you’re okay.” I put a hand on her forehead. Normal. But a second ago, hadn’t she been—?
She pushed away from me, jerking back to look around the room, and almost lost her footing again.
“I’ve got you.” When was the last time she ate something? Dinner? No, Mom was too busy yelling at me for anyone to stomach much. Lunch? Josh interrupted that.
“What’s wrong with me?” She looked so lost, I couldn’t help but reach for her.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.” I wrapped my arms around her. “We skipped lunch yesterday, that’s all. Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.”
“Okay.” When she let me half-drag, half-carry her to the kitchen without argument, I knew she was in bad shape. “Drink this.” I set a glass of orange juice in front of her.
She took a long sip. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am, Derrick. I mean, who forgets to eat? It’s a basic human function.”
“It’s been a really weird couple of days.” I shoved a bagel into the toaster.
Before she could reply, the kitchen door opened, and Mom walked in, looking almost as exhausted as Tess.
“Yeah, I know, we probably missed the bus,” I apologized, grabbing the cream cheese out of the fridge. “I forgot to set my alarm early enough to catch it and by the time I—”
“You’re
not going today, anyway.” Mom closed the door. “There’s something I need to—Tess, you okay?”
I spun, expecting to see Tess slumped over the table unconscious, but she was still working on her orange juice in slow shaky sips.
“Yes,” Tess mumbled over her cup, her voice cracking with humiliation.
Mom shot me a quizzical look, and I edged behind Tess enough to shake my head at Mom without Tess seeing me. “Bagel?” I offered Tess, putting a bit too much emphasis on the word.
“Okay,” she agreed weakly.
Understanding dawned in Mom’s expression, and she made a noise in her throat before turning on the coffee maker.
“I’m really fine,” Tess lied. “We don’t need to stay home. Do we, Der?”
Given she’d spent the better part of last night listening to Mom flip out about my near expulsion, I could see why she didn’t want to be the reason we missed school today. “We already missed the bus.” If it even stopped here. “And since Mom just worked all night, I doubt she’s up to giving us a ride. If only there was someone else who could drive . . .”
“Sit down, Derrick.”
Okay, so maybe now was not the best time to campaign for the return of my car keys. “Just kidding. I got the message last night, loud and clear. No need to revisit—”
“Sit down. Please.” Mom took a deep breath and followed her own advice, sitting at the table with her coffee.
“Is everything okay?” Tess asked as I sat down.
“No.”
Oh no, she’d found out about me destroying all the evidence. I sat down, scanning her face for a hint of how bad this was.
“Kids . . . I’m so sorry to tell you this . . .” She broke off, swallowing hard.
Tess and I exchanged alarmed glances.
“I’m so sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Isaac Williams died last night.”
Chapter 16: Tess
Friday, September 16th
Blood and Other Matter Page 10
