Heven & Hell Anthology (Heven and Hell)

by Cambria Hebert

  You will get between them.

  Bewitched

  Heven and Hell #2.5

  By Cambria Hebert

  Kimber

  I made it my business to look good at all times.

  Even when I was spying on people.

  Like I was now.

  But I wasn’t just spying on anyone. I was spying on my boyfriend.

  I knew—knew—there was something going on between Cole and Heven, my BFF. Heven and I had been friends forever it seemed, just as it seemed I had been forever in her shadow. I hadn’t minded it when we were young because I always knew that I would grow up to be the prettier one, the one with the better clothes, car and, in general, better life. And just like I had predicted (I’m always right), I did grow up to be the prettier one and I did have it all.

  But Heven didn’t seem to get that memo.

  She still somehow managed to claim the head cheerleader position. She was still the most popular girl in our class. Everyone fawned all over her knock-off, knee-high boots and generic ripped-up jeans. I’ll admit, Heven turned out a lot prettier than I thought she would and I was glad, because we were BFF’s and I couldn’t be seen with a hag.

  But Hell-ooo everyone knows that redheads are better than blondes.

  Unfortunately, no one seemed to get that memo, either.

  Still, I never let on that her popularity got to me because with her popularity, came mine. If she was Queen Bee, then I was the Princess. I was the caramel to her latté (and everyone knows a latté isn’t good unless it has caramel) and I’ll admit, Heven is nice. She has something about her that people respond to, that draws them in. I guess she does make people feel good about themselves. Like me.

  I wasn’t about to admit that I wanted to be number one. That it bothered me people only saw me when she wasn’t in the room. And besides, Cole had. The minute we all seemed to develop hormones, he only had eyes for me (I’m telling you, it’s the red hair). He was perfect: tall, dark hair, blue eyes, with wide shoulders and a wicked smile. He played football to my cheerleader, and we fit together so well that as soon as I saw that look of interest in his eyes, I made sure everyone knew that he was mine. Even better was the fact that he seemed to realize what no one else had: I deserved to be noticed more than Heven.

  He was a smart guy.

  But lately he’d been acting stupid.

  I lifted the black binoculars to my eyes, focusing on Heven’s yard and the truck parked next to the house.

  Uh-huh. I knew it. He’d come here. The jerk.

  I should have known he was a two-timer when I caught him kissing that hag Jenna. I forgave that little indiscretion (after I taught him a lesson, of course), but this… This was going too far.

  I heard a sound and turned the binoculars in that direction. Damn the darkness. Note to self: make Daddy buy you some night-vision goggles. I heard Cole’s voice and then saw the beam of a flashlight shine down onto the grass. I pressed the binoculars close and watched Cole shield his eyes from the light. I glanced up and saw Heven leaning out the window, looking down at him.

  A minute later, Cole was going around to the porch and going inside. I hadn’t felt this angry since I was at the mall on Black Friday and someone snatched the last pair of black cashmere gloves out of my hands.

  I smirked and glanced at my hands, covered in the said black cashmere gloves. That woman didn’t know who she was messing with and neither did Heven and Cole. I took a deep breath and watched the door close behind him, cutting off whatever they were doing. There was a rustle nearby and I turned toward the sound, but it was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. I listened for a few moments and when no other sounds came, I turned back toward the house to see if anything happened.

  Cole was drunk. He’d been at my house. We were down by the lake and we got into a fight. I never thought he would get in his truck and drive away. Drinking and driving is one of the stupidest things a person can do. I mean, really, it’s just asking to hurt someone or end up in jail. And of all the colors I do look good in… a bright orange jumpsuit isn’t one of them. Talk about a major clash with my hair. I suppressed a shudder and sighed.

  I hadn’t seen Cole act this way before. He seemed different… He was pulling away. So was Heven. At first, I thought she was just spending less time with me because of Sam, because she seemed to be getting her confidence back (just when I thought I would take over the Miss Most Popular spot, Heven went and got rid of her scar). But then Cole started acting off and becoming distant, and now he’s drunk and inside her house. Something was going on. And no one was telling me what it was.

  Another sound, closer this time, caught my attention and I whipped around. Still, I saw nothing. A feeling of being watched—of not being alone—came over me. I didn’t like it. I thought about calling out, but it seemed drawing attention to myself wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe spying (no matter how good I looked doing it) wasn’t a very good idea. This was creepy. The dark was creepy. It would be stupid to keep sitting out here where I felt like I wasn’t alone. Finding out what was going on with Heven and Cole was a definite must, but getting hacked into little pieces by some stalker wouldn’t accomplish that. And it would mess up my hair. Gripping the binoculars, I turned away from the house to walk back to my car. I tried to ignore the way my heart began to pound with fear.

  Get a grip Kimber, I told myself.

  I was a lot of things (like charming, stylish and beautiful), but stupid wasn’t one of them.

  I paused when I heard the door to the house open and slam shut, but I didn’t turn back. I thought for a millisecond about calling out—warning them about the potential stalker lurking out here, but I didn’t want them to know what I was up to. This spy mission might be aborted, but there would be future missions.

  They just wouldn’t be on my deep conditioning night. Maybe the fact that they were outside meant Heven would send him on his way. Maybe I should park at the end of the driveway and wait for him, follow his truck to make sure he gets home okay. Things might not be great between us, but I did love him. I loved him more than anyone and I wouldn’t want him to hurt himself or anyone else.

  We would get back on track and then everything would be okay again.

  I stumbled a bit as I walked, the heel of my black boot catching on something on the ground. I tugged the heel free and began walking again. Seconds later, the heel snapped and broke. I tripped and hit the ground.

  Ew. I did not do dirt.

  I looked down at my broken heel. “Really?” I whined. “I’m very disappointed in you,” I told my shoe as I held it up to inspect the damage. As much as I paid for these boots, they should hold up to spy missions.

  I got up, brushing the dirt off my Juicy Couture pants, and began limping toward my car. This was not my night. I wanted a latté. I wanted my fuzzy bathrobe and a hot bath.

  “Stop.”

  I stopped, glancing around from side to side. Had I just heard a voice? “Hello?” I called, no longer caring if someone knew I was out here. If they were talking to me, they already knew anyway.

  No one answered and I started walking again, hurrying toward my car.

  “You’re going to let him get away with cheating?”

  Okay, I definitely heard that. It might have been a whisper, but I wasn’t imaging it. I wasn’t crazy. “Who’s there?”

  I heard another rustling sound, but yet again, no one answered. I gave a huff. “Fine. Don’t show yourself. Whatever.” My car came into view and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was about to climb into the driver’s seat when I realized I never heard Cole start up his truck and drive away.

  You know what? Screw that stalker. If there was someone out here and they tried to hack me up, they would wish they never laid eyes on this redhead. I wasn’t about to miss my chance to bust my BFF and my boyfriend. Besides, I couldn’t stop wondering about what they were doing this late at night inside her house. I took off my busted shoes (I was so writing a nasty email to the designer) and th
rew them into my car, slammed the door and pivoted back toward the house.

  I would need a mega pedicure tomorrow.

  I didn’t hear anymore voices or movement nearby, which was probably good. For whoever was out there. I was not in a good mood, and if someone tried to attack me, they were going to wish they hadn’t.

  When I got to the house, no one was outside and Cole’s truck was still parked in the same spot as before. Silently I crept up to the porch and peeked in the kitchen window. They weren’t in there. So I crept around to where the window to the living room was. Light filtered through the open blinds and I crept closer.

  Bingo.

  Heven and Cole were standing in the middle of the room. The couch was covered in blankets and Cole wasn’t wearing a shirt. Jealousy cut through me. It burned and I wanted to scream and beat on the window. But a true spy never gave herself away. I watched as Cole pulled Heven in for a hug.

  She was touching him. Touching his bare skin. I watched her face as she hugged him. She liked it. She liked him. As more than a friend.

  Apparently, I was the one who missed the memo. The memo of betrayal.

  Tears blurred my vision and I turned away, crouching low beneath the window. How could he do this to me? To us? He was inside with the girl who was supposed to be my best friend and he was touching her.

  When I finally pulled myself together and stood, I noted the blinds were closed. I tried not to think about what was going on behind those blinds. But try as I may, images assaulted me: kissing, touching, laughing.

  I stumbled away from the house and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  A hooded figure stepped into my path.

  I jumped back, almost falling on my butt. Being brave when I only thought there was a stalker had been easy, but now that I was faced with one (one who looked suspiciously like the Grim Reaper) made me want to pee my pants. But I wouldn’t because these pants were too nice to ruin like that.

  The person was wearing a black cloak with a hood and it was so dark, I couldn’t make out a face. I remembered that I was supposed to be brave and forced myself to speak. “Wh-who are you?”

  I watched as the figure pushed back the hood to reveal flawless, creamy skin, high cheekbones and blood-red lips. She reminded me of Snow White minus the innocence of a young princess. She certainly looked better than the Grim Reaper. And she wasn’t very big. Maybe I could take her. If I had to.

  “Who are you?” I asked again, ready to yell for help.

  “Your opportunity,” she said, her voice smooth as dark chocolate.

  “Speak English,” I told her. I didn’t know why she was here, but this wasn’t a good time for some weirdo creeping in the woods to be bothering me.

  “Your boyfriend betrayed you; your best friend took him from you.”

  “What do you know about it?” I said, lifting my chin as the anger and jealousy I had grown used to swirled inside me once more.

  “I know a way for you to get him back and make her pay.”

  “Who said I wanted him back?”

  The woman lifted one of her shoulders. “Okay, then. Make her pay; then take what’s hers.”

  Yeah right. There was no taking Sam. Even when I was “dating” him, it was painfully obvious whom he really wanted—even if I had pretended I never noticed. Besides, as much as I hated it—I did want Cole back. I wanted him to love me the way I loved him. I glanced back at the closed blinds.

  “Tell me how,” I whispered.

  She held out her hand, her blood-red lips curving into a smile.

  I put my hand in hers. It was the beginning of my downfall.

  * * *

  I pulled into my empty driveway, not surprised at all it was empty. My parents were hardly ever home, and when they were, I never saw them. They always had better things to do than spend time with me. I tried not to think about what Heven and Cole were doing right that moment, as I climbed out of my car, reaching for my ruined shoes. I dumped them in the closest trash can and then turned to see if the woman was here yet. She said she would be right behind me, but the street was quiet. There were no signs of cars.

  I wasn’t about to stand out here all night without my shoes, looking like I was breaking into my own house, so I went inside. Maybe I had imagined the whole encounter with the woman in Heven’s yard. I couldn’t be expected to be in my right mind after seeing my boyfriend and my BFF together, not to mention my ruined designer shoes. I mean, hell-o, how often did gorgeous women in cloaks lurk around in people’s yards? The only reason I was there was because I was on a spy mission.

  I sighed as I let myself into my bedroom, glancing at my heinously dirty feet. I needed a hot bath, a latté and some chocolate. Tomorrow, I would spend the day at the spa with a mani, a pedi and scalp treatment with a blowout. The next time Cole saw me, I would look so hot, his tongue would fall right out of his mouth. I smirked.

  But the smirk fell as I wondered where his tongue was right now.

  I closed the bedroom door behind me and flicked on the light.

  “Aghhh!” I screeched when I saw the woman standing in the middle of my room. “Don’t you knock?”

  “I thought I’d already been invited.”

  “How did you get in here?” I asked, taking in the woman’s black cloak now that we were in actual light. She had good taste—if you were into the cloak thing.

  “I have my ways.”

  She was annoying. I was dirty, I was tired and I didn’t feel like listening to her talk in riddles. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m busy. I changed my mind about whatever I agreed to back there.” I opened up my bedroom door and looked at her pointedly.

  She didn’t get the memo.

  “Hell-o,” I said, waiving my hand around. “That was me telling you to leave.”

  The woman’s blue eyes narrowed, but then her face smoothed out and she started walking toward the door. “She was right about you.”

  “Who?” I demanded.

  “Heven.”

  “Wait,” I said, and the woman turned back. “You know Heven? How do you know her? And what did she say about me?”

  “She said she was better suited for this. She said you were too ‘into yourself’ to really be good for our group.”

  Anger sliced through me. After everything I had done for her, sitting in that creepy hospital room, defending her against all those rumors, the whispers. This is how she repays me? By stealing my boyfriend and talking bad about me behind my back? I wanted to claw her eyes out.

  “I’ll be going,” the woman said, once again turning to leave.

  “Wait! What group are you talking about?”

  The woman stopped. Slowly she turned back. “Haven’t you wondered how that disfigurement on Heven’s face disappeared?”

  “She said she had laser surgery,” I replied automatically, even as doubt crept into my mind. I had always wondered about that. I mean, Heven shows up one day and her face is completely healed. Even the nerve damage that caused half of her face to sag was gone. Her skin was flawless, taut and perfect. Like the accident never happened.

  “And you believe everything she says?”

  Well, I used to. Then Sam got here and everything changed. She changed. She started pulling away, acting secretive. She didn’t return my phone calls, brushed off my questions, and then she shows up after she had freaking surgery, and she hadn’t even told me she had an appointment! Not to mention she seemed to be getting wayyy to close to my boyfriend.

  “You’re saying you had something to do with Heven’s face?”

  “Surgery wouldn’t have fixed what was wrong with her face.”

  “Then how could you have?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

  She lifted one of her hands in front of her and wiggled her fingers at me. It was creepy. She had creepy fingers. I felt a change in the air around me and looked down at my feet. The dirt disappeared; the chipped, dull polish faded away, replaced by a glossy bright red. Rhinestones finished off my two big
toes and they sparkled in the light. My skin glowed like it usually did right after a really good pedi.

  I looked up. “How did you do that?”

  The woman merely smiled and wiggled her fingers even more. My black ensemble was replaced with a wicked-looking red “bandage” dress. It was basically this totally chic, silk material that looked like a wide ace bandage that had wrapped itself around my body, fitting against every curve perfectly. The black knit hat on my head was replaced with an updo of perfectly formed, shiny red curls.

  “Are you my fairy godmother?” I asked, looking down at my appearance. I looked totally hot.