Death Wish (The Ceruleans: Book 1)

by Megan Tayte

  The heat from the fire drew me in, but as I got closer I made out a shadowy figure on the seaward side. I was sure the campfire had been abandoned. I stopped, hesitated, wondered what to do. I could hardly go and sit with a complete stranger, but my trajectory toward the fire had been obvious, and to turn back now would seem rude. In the end, the decision was made for me.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here,’ called a voice.

  When I didn’t move a face appeared around the edge of the fire.

  ‘Remember me?’

  It was him. The guy from the churchyard.

  What to do? I could hardly turn and walk away. Last time I’d seen him I’d run from him without explanation – no doubt he already thought I was a head case. And hadn’t I been hoping, just a little, that I’d see him at the party? Hadn’t I been wondering about him ever since the graveyard? Hadn’t I been stealing glances at him whenever I saw him in the water?

  I looked back at Si’s house; it was quite some distance away. I turned to the boy. He was smiling. He seemed nice enough, and he intrigued me, so why was some instinct in me screaming? I shivered, and he saw and said:

  ‘Toasty warm over here. Sit, if you like.’ He patted the sand beside him.

  Oh, what the hell, I decided at last. I was here to mingle, after all. I took the last few steps and sat – not quite as close as the patch he’d indicated, but at a friendly distance, I thought. He was right; it was fiercely hot this close to the fire, and I could see why he’d discarded his jacket on the ground. I eyed a tattoo visible on the inside of his forearm. A word, but I couldn’t make it out.

  He turned his body to face me, shifting closer as he did so, and fixed me with eyes that were a fathomless black in the firelight.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’re surfing now.’

  ‘Yeah.’ It came out as a nervous croak. I swallowed and said with more confidence, ‘Yeah, I’m surfing.’

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘I love it. I’m not great at it, though.’

  ‘That takes time. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a natural.’

  So he had been watching. I smiled wryly. ‘I don’t think you could call me that. My first day out there, I was in the water more than on the board.’

  ‘It’s the getting back on each time you fall off that counts.’

  I nodded and there was a lull in the conversation. I cast about for something else to say, anything. The boy seemed to feel no need to fill the silence; he merely watched me. His scrutiny made me nervous. His presence made me nervous. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that unsettled me.

  Finally, I could take the quiet no longer and blurted out the one thing stuck in my head: ‘The other week, at St Mary’s. I’m sorry… I… I’m not sure why…’

  Many people, afflicted by the infamous English need to be polite, would have broken in by now, with a, ‘Oh really, that? Don’t worry about it,’ or perhaps a neat deflection to another subject. Not this boy, though. He just watched me, his head cocked to one side, waiting for me to finish.

  Embarrassed, I focused on scratching patterns into the sand. It was a good job we were out in the dark or he’d have had reason to reflect that my name matched the colour of my cheeks as I tried again:

  ‘It was rude, running off like that. It was just, the thing with the rabbit sort of, well…’ I stopped as the image of the thrashing creature flashed into my mind. I looked at him. ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘I told you. Calming it.’ He stared at me for several heartbeats, then added softly, ‘Like you’d calm a frightened, wounded creature, Scarlett.’

  I took a ragged breath. The magpie – he couldn’t know – he wasn’t there – he couldn’t know.

  ‘Scarlett…’ he began.

  But that impulse I’d had in the churchyard had returned. I moved quickly to stand. ‘I’d better head –’

  ‘Careful!’

  I barely had time to register that I was lurching towards the fire before he was up too and his hand on my arm was hauling me back.

  ‘Sorry!’ I said automatically. I tried to shake off his hand but his grip was tight. Almost painfully tight.

  ‘Are you dizzy?’ he asked seriously.

  ‘No!’

  He let go of me, but his scowl said he didn’t believe me. He was right not to. Stupid schnapps.

  ‘I’ll walk you back,’ he said.

  I opened my mouth to argue, then figured there was no point. As we headed up the beach I focused on the house ahead, but with every step I was hyper-aware of him next to me. We said nothing. I was working up to asking him about Sienna. That was why I was here, at the party, after all. He had known her; he’d told me that in the graveyard. But before I could work out where to start we were on the decking at Si’s house, back in the thick of the party, and the boy was staring into the house and then telling me, abruptly, that he needed to leave.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Something’s come up.’

  ‘Between the campfire and the house?’

  He must have caught the sarcasm in my tone, but his answer was earnest: ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, though I didn’t.

  ‘Scarlett…’ he began, but I cut him off.

  ‘You say my name, but I don’t even know yours.’

  He looked surprised, like I ought to know it. ‘Jude,’ he said. ‘My name is Jude.’

  ‘Hey, Jude,’ I said. ‘Oh!’

  He reached over and touched a finger lightly to my lips. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t do the song. I hate it when people do the song.’

  I was saved from replying that I had no intention of singing by a commotion behind. Raised voices were audible in the kitchen, and then a shadow fell across us from the doorway into the house. I turned to look, conscious of Jude’s hand dropping away from my face as I did so, to see a giant on the threshold, a giant with tousled hair and flushed cheeks and flashing blue eyes.

  It was Luke.

  And he was mad as hell.

  15: CINDERELLA, INTERRUPTED

  There was a long, pregnant silence as Luke looked slowly from me to Jude. The thunderous look that had been on his face slipped into one of confusion.

  ‘Scarlett? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hi, Luke,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming. I’m here with a friend.’

  Luke’s eyes snapped to Jude, and his expression tightened. All at once, I realised how this must look to him.

  ‘A girlfriend,’ I emphasised. ‘This is, um, Jude. Do you two know each other?’

  ‘We do,’ said Luke in an expressionless tone.

  ‘Hi, Luke,’ said Jude quietly.

  They faced off against each other.

  ‘So, Luke – what’s up?’ I asked. Man, this was awkward.

  Luke broke eye contact with Jude to look at me, and as he did so some of the tension in his rigid frame seemed to melt a little.

  ‘Here to catch an escapee,’ he said enigmatically. He glanced at Jude again, then gave me a warm smile. ‘Could use a hand, actually, if you’re willing.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said quickly. The prospect of Luke’s company was pretty attractive after the intensity of the past few minutes with Jude.

  Luke slipped his hand into mine. I blinked up at him, surprised by the intimacy of the gesture, but he was already guiding me inside. I opened my mouth to tell him I needed to pause a moment and put on my shoes – I was still barefoot from the walk on the beach, my sandals hanging loosely from my hand – but then thought better of it. I was keen to step away from the atmosphere that seemed to have sprung up out on the decking.

  ‘Bye then,’ I said lightly to Jude.

  ‘Bye, Scarlett,’ said Jude, his tone anything but light. ‘I’ll see you around.’

  I felt Luke stiffen, and then he was propelling me away. Inside, we were hit by a wall of heat. The party was at fever pitch. Furniture had been pushed back to create a dance floor on which a writhing mass of couples danced and
embraced. The volume was pushed up to maximum, and the room smelt of beer and perfume and aftershave mixed with the salty tang of sweat. After the cool, fresh calm of the beach, it was a bit of a shock to the system.

  ‘So what’s up?’ I shouted to Luke over the booming bass.

  He shook his head and pointed at his ear and mouthed ‘Can’t hear you’. I let him lead me through the living space. I was surprised to see several people greet him as we worked our way through the scrum, and Luke answer with nods and smiles and pats on the shoulder. I’d thought he was an outsider from this group; that’s why I hadn’t expected to see him at the party.

  Out in the hallway the volume was marginally less deafening and I tried to query him, but he just shook his head and led me across the hall to a door. Opening it, he pulled me inside and then dropped his handhold to close the door behind us. The thickness of the oak made a colossal difference to the noise level.

  We were in a large home office, I saw, tastefully decorated with white walls, a black desk and chair, and a vast cream leather sofa on the far wall, facing the door. The sole colour in the room was provided by shelf upon shelf of books.

  Luke gestured to the sofa, and I took a seat. A dull headache had sprung up, and I put a finger on each temple and massaged firmly. Luke collapsed down next to me, lying back and rubbing a hand over his face.

  I wanted to ask him about the surfers, about Jude. But there was a more pressing question for now.

  ‘So,’ I said. ‘Who’s escaped?’ I had a terrible thought. ‘Oh crap. It’s not Chester, is it?’

  He laughed. ‘Now that would be a nightmare. You’re not quite dressed for a midnight dash around the village.’

  I looked down and hurriedly adjusted my top. It was hardly what he was used to seeing me in.

  He sat up and turned his body to mine, laying his arm along the top of the sofa, tantalisingly close to the exposed skin on my back. ‘You look… great,’ he said softly.

  I met his gaze and managed a shy smile.

  ‘Thanks for yesterday,’ I said. ‘And sorry about my mum…’

  ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. Your mum is grieving. She’s bound to be emotional.’

  I decided now wasn’t the time to explain that Mother was always emotional.

  ‘We all have family… difficulties… from time to time,’ he added. ‘Take my sister, for example, who’s executed an impressive disappearing act this evening. Earlier, when I headed out to my six-to-midnight shift, she was in her pyjamas on the sofa with flu, all, “Later, brov, I’ll just lie here and feebly watch telly.” Then, when I managed to wrangle leaving the pub early so I could check on her, what did I find? Pillows and a football and a wig in her bed, that’s what. Damn football rolled off the bed when I touched it. Scared the life out of me. I thought her head had fallen off!’

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and a smile broke through the gloom on his face.

  ‘So how did you know where to find her?’ I asked.

  ‘Didn’t take a genius to work it out. She’s sneaked out to Si’s before. And she’s been on at me all week to let her come.’

  Let her come. The words struck me as odd. Who was he to be giving permission?

  He sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love her to bits, but she’s always pushing it. She’s so headstrong and determined to make her mark. Being a kid’s not enough for her – she’s hell-bent on growing up too fast. She thinks she’s a woman, that she can handle herself.’

  A mix of emotions ran through me – sympathy for Luke, who was clearly worried for his sister; relief that he seemed unfazed by my own family’s madness; appreciation for the fact that he’d shared something of his family life with me; and a fizz of attraction running through my veins – for as he talked, the vulnerability and concern on his face made me itch to reach out and touch him.

  Now, he was gesturing around him. ‘Just look at this place. And she’s here. Where there’s drinking and dirty dancing and God knows what else going on. And she’s just a kid.’

  I thought of the younger teens I’d noticed out in the living area when Cara and I had first arrived. Fifteen, I guessed, was the youngest I’d seen. I thought back to me at fifteen, almost three years ago: gawky, geeky and terribly naive.

  ‘We’d better go find her,’ I said.

  Luke nodded. ‘I searched the living room, and the kitchen already. Didn’t get a good look outside. Or in the bedrooms… Oh God don’t let me find her in a bedroom…’

  He sank his head into his hands and I reached over and patted him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Hey. It’ll be all right. Did you check the summerhouse? There were a load of people in there playing Twister last I saw.’

  He looked up, hopeful. ‘She likes being in charge of the Twister spinner…’

  ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’

  I reached down and began putting on my sandals, but I was quickly in an almighty tangle with the straps. ‘Stupid shoes! Why do women wear these things…’

  Luke slid off the sofa and knelt at my feet. He placed a hand over mine, which was wrestling with the leather, and stilled it. ‘Here, let me.’

  Holding my ankle delicately in one hand, he slid off the sandal, gave it a shake to realign the straps, then slid it slowly back onto my foot. The straps glided straight into position. Resting my foot on his lap, he fastened the buckle with a surgeon’s precision. His skin against mine was warm and smooth.

  I swallowed and managed a husky thank you.

  He smiled and picked up the second sandal and set to work.

  Drawing breath was becoming an effort, and I was starting to think I might just pass out if he didn’t let go of my foot soon, but then I didn’t want him to let go, I wanted him to come closer, closer.

  He looked up at me then. His pupils were huge and he was biting his bottom lip. Slowly, he rose on his knees until his face was level with mine, and began to lean in…

  ‘… maybe in here? I’ve looked everywhere else. Helllooooooooo…’

  The door was banged open to reveal two figures standing in the doorway: Lovely Kyle and Cara.

  Cara took in me on the sofa and the dark-haired boy kneeling before me and quickly backtracked. ‘Ooops, sorry, don’t let me interrupt,’ she gasped, wide-eyed.

  Luke turned quickly as the door edged shut. ‘Cara?’ he said.

  The door opened again, just a crack, and Cara’s head appeared. Then, swiftly, it vanished and the door began to close again.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ roared Luke, and in a flash he was on his feet and striding to the door. He flung it open. Cara and Lovely Kyle stood frozen in the doorway.

  What the hell? I’d barely got to my feet when Luke commanded ‘In!’ and, to my surprise, Cara shuffled into the room, towing Kyle in with her.

  Luke took a few steps back and said through gritted teeth, ‘Caroline Clara Cavendish, just what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Don’t you “Caroline Clara Cavendish” me, or I’ll “Luke Cameron Cavendish” you…’

  They squared off against each other, blue eyes flashing, cheeks flushing. In a split-second realisation dawned. How had I missed the resemblance all this time?

  ‘This is not about me, Cara, this is about you!’ Luke was saying. ‘Sneaking out, coming here alone, meeting some…’ His eyes snapped to Lovely Kyle, who was standing tall at Cara’s side. ‘You – who are you?’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t come here alone,’ snapped Cara defiantly. ‘I came with Scarlett.’

  That took the wind right out of Luke’s sails. He looked around to see me sink back onto the sofa wearily. ‘I don’t understand. Scarlett brought you?’

  I was beyond words and simply stared at him as my aching head worked furiously to sew together two until now entirely separate threads from the past few weeks: Cara and Luke.

  Cara rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. ‘No, I brought Scarlett. Honestly, Luke, get with it. I told you about her, remember? My new friend. The one I’ve been out wi
th while you’re at work.’

  Luke’s jaw dropped. ‘It’s Scarlett you’ve been seeing? But I thought you said it was Kylie’s house you were at.’

  Cara reached over and gave her brother a light punch on the arm. ‘No, dummy. That’s Kyle. I told you about Scarlett – remember, when you were on the treadmill doing that ten-k?’

  ‘Cara, you plank. I run in headphones – headphones.’

  Luke scraped a hand through his hair and looked at me again. He looked confused, conflicted and something else – apologetic, I thought. I had to feel sorry for him.

  I was opening my mouth to suggest we all sit down and chill a little when Cara connected some more dots.

  ‘Hang on.’ She looked from her brother to me. ‘What did I just walk in on? Luke, you dog! So that’s why you didn’t want me to come. Little sis cramp your style? If you think you can just come to a party and hook up with some random girl and then swan off you’ve a –’

  ‘Cara! That’s enough!’ Luke looked mortified. ‘I came to find you having discovered a fake you with a DETACHABLE HEAD in your bed! And I wasn’t hooking up. And Scarlett isn’t some random girl. She’s the girl I’ve been teaching to surf. As you well know!’

  Now it was Cara’s turn to look bemused. ‘Know what? Jeez, Luke, you mentioned teaching some out-of-town girl to surf once – weeks ago. How was I meant to know that was Scarlett!’

  ‘Because I told you her name!’ hissed Luke.

  ‘Really? Wow, I must’ve missed that. But if you will insist on talking while I’m watching The Originals…’

  Luke looked at the ceiling. ‘Give me strength!’

  I slumped back onto the sofa, rubbing my temples and wondering how a simple evening out had descended into some kind of mind-bending he-said-she-said-but-nobody-listened unravelling.

  Finally, Kyle decided to take charge. ‘Look, it seems pretty clear to me. Scarlett is your friend, Cara, and your friend, Luke. Ergo – everyone’s friends. So can we take things down a notch? We’re all cool.’

  Luke peered at Kyle. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Kyle.’