by D. Laine
“We hooked up,” she whispered. I angled closer to her as she continued. “Saturday night . . . right before . . .”
“Oh, God. Stephanie, I’m so sorry.” I pulled her shaking body into my arms and rubbed a comforting hand over her back. Even through her uniform, I could feel heat radiating off of her. “You’re burning up, honey. You okay?”
Her head shook against my shoulder. “I feel horrible. It started earlier today. What if . . .” Her head lifted and her eyes widened. “What if he gave me something? Like an STD? He’s dead. I can’t ask him now.”
I contained the bubble of laughter that rose up my throat. Brent had been murdered and she was more worried about him having given her something than she was over the fact that he was dead. My God.
“You can always go to the Health Center on campus,” I informed her with a grimace. No one went there unless they had to. But I feared Stephanie probably had a good reason for a visit. Brent was well known for his promiscuity and bad habit of forgetting a condom.
Stephanie heaved a breath as she pulled away. She really didn’t look good. I wasn’t sure what kind of STD could make her this sick. I also wasn’t convinced Brent was responsible. She might have the flu. Either way, I knew what I needed to do.
“Go home, Steph,” I told her. “Either get some sleep or go to the Health Center. I’ll cover your shift tonight.”
It required me to stay two extra hours and close, which I wasn’t exactly happy about, but I felt bad for her. She promptly grabbed her stuff and left, leaving me to handle the dinner rush alone. It was bad, but the extra tips I earned made up for it.
An hour before close, I found another reason to be grateful I was still here. I had just finished wiping down the dining room when the chime above the door announced the entrance of a late night customer. I looked up as Dylan waltzed inside and wordlessly claimed a seat at the corner booth by himself.
I glanced toward the kitchen, where tonight’s cook, Shane, watched him with a hint of distrust. “I know him,” I told Shane. “He’s alright.”
“I’d say,” Shane snorted. “You wouldn’t happen to know what team he bats for, would you?”
“Mine,” I replied as I backed away. “Definitely mine.”
“That’s too bad.” Shane frowned as I turned with a laugh.
Dylan looked up from the textbook in his hand as I approached.
“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you suggested we should be in the same place at the same time again sometime soon,” I told him with a smile.
“Hmm.” He sat back with a smirk. “So you’ve been thinking about me?”
“I—that’s not—” Dammit. How did he do that? “What are you doing here?”
He lifted the heavy book in his hand. “Big test tomorrow. I figured some coffee might help me study,” he supplied.
I pointed out the window. “There’s a café across the street that serves nothing but coffee.”
His eyes skimmed over me. It was quick, and he downplayed it with a casual shrug, but I was left feeling hot all over. “I like the view over here better.”
I tried not to—I tried not to encourage him—but a smile slipped out of me regardless. He winked in response.
“Don’t fight it, Thea,” he suggested smoothly. “It just makes me try harder.”
I pulled from my four years of experience in waiting on drunk college guys who couldn’t place an order without hitting on me. Though Dylan’s flirting wasn’t unwanted, as was the case with most of the idiots that came in here, something told me I would need every bit of that experience to handle him.
I popped my hip to the side and pasted on my patented waitress smile. “What can I get ya?”
“Really?” He dropped the book with a shake of his head. “I get the routine? You’re really just going to give me the usual spiel? I’m not special enough to you?”
I kept the smile firmly in place. “Oh, you’re definitely special, Dylan.”
He grinned broadly. “Why do I feel like you just insulted me?”
“Sounds like a self-esteem issue. Maybe you need to ask yourself that question.”
He propped his elbows on the table and leaned toward me. “I’ve got no self-esteem issues. I can assure you that I have nothing to be ashamed about.”
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
“I—” His narrowed eyes danced with amusement. “You make all the guys work this hard? Or just me?”
With a smile and a shake of my head, I refused to answer that question. We both knew the answer.
“Fine.” Dylan heaved as he sat back in his seat. “I like pie. You got pie?”
“I’ve got pie.”
“Is it any good?” His lips curled mischievously, and I wondered if he was still talking about pie, or throwing me another innuendo.
Knowing Dylan, I guessed we weren’t talking about fruit-filled pastries. With a flirty smile, I leaned down to tell him, “I’ve got the best pie in town.”
His eyes flared. “I bet you do,” he murmured.
We were definitely not talking about pastries anymore. Feeling a rush of heat that a discussion about desserts had no business creating, I twisted around to go place the order with Shane. The flushing of my skin deepened with each step I took, because I knew Dylan’s eyes were on me. I felt them penetrating deep into my core.
“Damn, girl,” Shane crooned from the small window separating the bar area from the kitchen. He took in my appearance as I approached with a smug grin. “I think you need to get laid.”
“Stop.” I jabbed a finger at Shane. “Get me a slice of pie.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His gaze slid over my shoulder. “I don’t think he wants what I’ve got to offer.”
Another person telling me what I already suspected didn’t make me feel any better. It only made me feel more self-conscious. I kept up the charade, taking Dylan his pie and coffee, and bantering with him when the situation warranted. By the time he cleaned his second plate and downed three cups of coffee, I realized he wasn’t here to eat. Or study.
“You don’t have to watch over me, you know,” I told him ten minutes before closing.
He looked up from his book as I approached. “I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you made it home okay.”
“Well, I—” What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to.” I stared at him, prompting a deep sigh from his mouth. He leaned forward to give me a heavy look. “Just . . . appease me. Can you do that?”
“What are you? My personal bodyguard now?”
“I can be whatever you want me to be.”
And we were back to that again. Personally, I preferred the light, flirty side of Dylan. I didn’t know what to do with the serious side I occasionally glimpsed.
He maintained the carefree persona I had gotten used to for the remainder of the night. He even helped Shane and me finish closing up the restaurant, and he walked out the back door with both of us a little after ten o’clock.
“See you next week, Thea. Dylan, maybe I’ll see you around.” Shane shot me a secretive wink before he veered off in the direction of his car.
On the opposite side of the parking lot, a monster SUV loomed over my tiny Metro. Dylan and I walked toward the two vehicles in silence. I distracted myself by fishing the keys from my purse and disengaging the automatic lock. My fingers grazed the can of mace tucked beneath my wallet, and I laughed softly.
“What?” Dylan nudged my side gently with his elbow.
“Just remembering this stupid can of mace I have,” I admitted. “A lot of good it did me last week.”
Dylan nodded silently as we stopped alongside the driver’s side door of my Metro. He shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other before turning to me. “You’re not planning to use it on me, are you?”
“No.” I flashed him a smile. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”
The single street light in the parking
lot didn’t chase away much of the darkness. Most of Dylan’s face was lined by shadows, but I saw his throat jump as he stared down at me. I instinctively sucked in a breath, because holy hell, was he hot.
He inched closer, stepping into a narrow band of light, and I saw that his eyes were fixed on my mouth. I instinctively licked my lips, and his gaze shot up to meet mine.
The dim lighting only amplified what I already knew. His eyes were gorgeous. Striking. Like tiny portals with the ability to peer into my soul. I gravitated toward him instinctively. His gravelly voice stopped me.
“Work any other days this week?”
The breath that escaped me in a rush could have been relief, but I was more inclined to call it disappointment. “No. I’m off for the weekend.”
I almost told him I planned to visit my parents in Missoula, but his hand lifted to my face, freezing the words in my throat. He twisted a loose chunk of hair around his finger with a lopsided smile. When his eyes shifted back to mine, they were glazed with desire.
He was going to kiss me. I saw it. I knew it. I wanted it.
My lips parted in anticipation, and I watched with growing need as his did the same. His breath fanned my cheek as he inched closer. Then suddenly, he deviated.
His lips caught the corner of my mouth. He hesitated there as he heaved a long and noisy sigh. His body pressed closer, brushing up against mine, as he put a fisted hand on my waist.
I wanted to turn my head. Half an inch and our lips would connect. I knew from the heaviness of his breathing that he wanted it. For whatever reason, his forehead pressed against mine to keep my mouth from finding his.
“Dylan?”
He shifted slightly, grazing my upper lip. “Get in your car, Thea.”
He turned to jerk the door open. I gaped up at him as he held it ajar for me. I took in the hard lines of his jaw.
“Dylan, what—”
“I’ll see you later.” His eyes swept over my face. His eyebrows knitted together at the look of bewilderment I knew he saw there. “Go home, Thea.”
I nodded my head as I moved past him to get in the car. He guided my door shut, then stalked off without an explanation for whatever just happened.
Or didn’t happen. I sighed my disappointment as I started the car. I pulled out of my parking spot, and Dylan followed me through the alley in the large SUV. At the main road, I turned right to go home. I cast a glance in the rearview mirror as Dylan took a left. I watched his lights recede in the mirror with a shake of my head.
I had no explanation for whatever it was that transpired in the parking lot. But I suspected something had changed between us. Only time would tell what exactly that was.
BY FRIDAY AFTERNOON, the decision to go home to visit my parents was an easy one to make. My shift at the diner proved to be the turning point, and my week only went downhill from there.
Fall descended overnight, chilling the air to an extreme level even for Montana. All my professors decided the semester really started this week—and piled on the workload. Vivian was more of a bitch than usual—perhaps because she too was feeling the increased demand from her classes. Whatever her reason, I was over it . . . and her.
I hadn’t seen Dylan since that night at the diner. Not once. I doubted neither he nor Vivian would notice if I skipped town for a few days. I needed some distance from both of them.
The drive home took a little under two hours, but the change was palpable when I turned up the long gravel driveway that led to my home. Framed by mountains on all sides, my parent’s property rested in a valley. Yellowish-brown hills rolled away from the rear of the two-story house until they were swallowed up by the blue-grey mountains in the distance. On each side of the house, trees bordered the broad green yard.
I spotted my dad there, on the edge of the forest where the shelter was hidden beneath a solid steel hatch in the ground. I shook my head as I got out of the car, suspecting that he was stocking or otherwise fortifying his and Mom’s doomsday hideout. Then a thunderous shot echoed through the valley, and I realized he was enjoying his other hobby this evening. One that I shared with equal enthusiasm.
I eyed the darkening sky, then the house. Mom would be inside, probably preparing dinner. As much as I looked forward to enjoying a home-cooked meal again, Dad’s firing range called to me. I hadn’t gone shooting since I left for school a month ago. I turned away from the house and angled across the yard to join my dad, where he stood facing the thick forest. Three large targets were visible fifty yards deep.
I smiled proudly as he hit the center of all three in rapid succession. His years in the service had given him excellent marksmanship—something he had passed on to me.
He held the sleek pistol out as I approached, offering it to me without a word. My dad was notoriously silent—until someone brought up politics, hunting, or the end of the world conspiracies. Then you’d never manage to shut him up.
I greedily accepted the gun with sure and steady hands. Under my father’s watchful gaze, I fired off three rounds and wondered why I hadn’t come home sooner.
Ten minutes later, in the midst of the pre-dinner showdown with my mother, I remembered.
“Explain it to me, Thea,” she pleaded with an edge of desperation in her voice. “Give me one good reason you have for staying there when you know—”
“Because I don’t know!” I swiped the dish of green beans from the counter and relocated them to the table in the dining room. “Nobody knows, Mom. No offense, but I’m not going to put my life on hold because of the murmurings going around your doomsday preppers group.”
“They’re not murmurings, Thea,” she insisted. “They know things. They—”
“Can we not talk about this over dinner?” I pleaded.
Mom glanced at Dad as he settled into his seat at the table, and he gave me the “stand down” order with a mere look.
“The Winstons are joining us for dinner this evening,” he supplied.
He didn’t need to elaborate. I knew what that meant. The Winstons were preppers, like my parents. Once a week for as long as I could remember, they joined us for dinner and another round of end of the world talks.
I kept my groan to myself when the doorbell rang a moment later, and the elderly couple joined us. At least they’d brought dessert. The peach cobbler almost made the discussion going around the table tolerable.
Almost.
After dinner, I retreated to my old room with the excuse that I had an assignment to work on. It wasn’t necessarily a lie—and I did get it done by the time I heard the Winstons leave an hour later. My parents retired to bed shortly after and only then did I venture out of my room.
I took a seat on the glider in a quiet corner on the front porch and enjoyed the open wilderness that surrounded me. With nothing but the twinkling stars in the black sky to keep me company, I let my mind wander.
Despite my confusion over what happened in the parking lot of The Nest a few nights ago, it was Dylan that dominated my thoughts. He was an anomaly, a walking contradiction to the tame universe I lived in. Hot one minute, cold the next.
Nothing about him was as simple as Vivian tried to make it sound. Where at first I might have been confused about my opinion of him, now I knew for sure. I was well beyond the “getting over Kyle” stage of attraction. I had fallen head first into the “I’m interested in this guy” stage.
It was he who I still thought about hours later when I settled into my narrow bed. But soon, my dreams took over and a familiar face from my childhood took shape. The young boy that I long considered my imaginary friend—the one my parents paid expensive therapy bills to erase from my subconscious—came to me again.
This time, his message was clear and followed me into the dawn of the next day. “I’m coming to find you . . .”
12
DYLAN
“Are you aware that stalking is illegal in all fifty states?”
The vessel also known as Kyle Davenport froze on the sidewalk a
t the sound of my voice. When he slowly turned to glare at me, I nodded pointedly over his shoulder, at the illuminated entrance to the arts building.
Thea spent a lot of time in that building. Though I hadn’t seen her since earlier this afternoon, I assumed she was inside. Especially if the vessel was watching the entrance, as he had been doing all week.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
“Would it be too pageant contestant-like to say I only want world peace?”
His narrowed eyes flicked over me with contempt. Then intuition took over, and I recognized the spark of fear that registered behind his heavy mask of disdain.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Took you long enough to figure it out. Unfortunately, that’s a sure death sentence.”
“Oh, yeah?” The shutters slammed shut on the fear, and his lips curled into a wicked leer. “For me? Or for you?”
He moved quickly—I gave him props for that. But he wasn’t the sharpest tack in the drawer. While his hand darted to whatever weapon he carried on him, he failed to notice Jake creeping up on his six. His fingers encircled something black and shiny near his waist. His arm shot out—
Jake’s hand snagged his elbow before he could turn the deadly end of his pistol on me.
“For you, asshole,” Jake told him. “Definitely a death sentence for you.”
I grinned smugly as Maria and Marcus drifted from the shadows and came to a stop on either side of me. Over Kyle’s head, a group of giggling students exited the arts building. I didn’t see Thea. I didn’t need to see Thea. I determined she was inside—safe and sound—as she should be. I had never enjoyed snatching a vessel more.
BEING CHOSEN as a host for pure evil came with its perks. The miniscule pieces of demon DNA flowing through the vessels gave them superb hearing, night vision, speed, and a host of physical strengths that separated them from humans . . . and assassins. They were special, in a sick and twisted kind of way, and they knew it.
But they bled and felt pain like the rest of us. Hearing this vessel’s screams gave me much more pleasure than usual.
