Or did he? Maybe she just assumed she knew what was going on with him. Was her emotional radar so bad? Remembering how badly she’d bungled things with William, she was starting to wonder.
The weird thing was, the memories from last night with Eric were there. As she looked around the room and felt back in her mind, she could remember the day before: them driving to Asheville, chemistry zinging between them even as they argued over what music to listen to. The party, loud and energetic and lubricated with lots of drinks. Dancing with him. Kissing him—a lot. Retreating to his cousin’s guest room… but she was just as certain that she’d spent last night in her dorm with nothing but zombie movies for company. It was like she’d been in two places at once.
And that wasn’t the end of the weirdness. When she caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror, a cold wave of shock washed over her as she saw that her hair and eyebrows were back the way they’d been before the fire. Almost convinced her eyes were fooling her, she felt at her hair, and found it had grown back where before it had been cut short. Dread curdled her stomach. It was like the night of the fire had never happened.
Could she have imagined it? She would have sworn that that was real. But she would also have sworn that her night of partying with Eric was imagination, and yet here she was, picking her clothes off the floor of an unfamiliar bedroom and trying to fight off a hangover headache.
This is getting way too complicated. She finished dressing, slowly, reluctant now to leave the room and face Eric again and see what other surprises this bizarre new world held.
She found her way through the unfamiliar house, in every room seeing evidence of the party—bottles, glasses, a keg, a few guests passed out on sofas. Nobody else seemed to be awake.
As good as his word, Eric was waiting for her in his old Chevy, idling it to warm it up in the chilly late morning. The unfamiliar neighborhood was quiet; probably everyone else was sleeping in after their own New Year’s parties the night before. He handed her a bagel half as she got into the car. “Eat something,” he said. “Maybe you’ll be less of a bitch with food in your stomach.”
She really had hurt his feelings, she saw. “Eric, I’m sorry,” she said. “I did have a good time last night.” She squirmed inwardly at that admission, but she probably owed him that much. “I must have had a blackout, and I was surprised to wake up with you. That’s all.”
“You didn’t have to act like I knocked you on the head with a club and dragged you to a cave.” He still sounded sulky, and she suppressed a sigh of impatience as he put the car in gear and pulled onto the street.
“I know. I said I was sorry.” She bit into the bagel. He had even toasted it and spread cream cheese on it; that was practically a declaration of love. Maybe he deserved to know why she’d changed so much—changed from what he remembered, at least. Automatically she held the bagel up to his mouth so he could take a bite of it without taking his eyes off the road, and then realized what she was doing. It felt like something she’d done before. Like a habit. Did they have that much of a history together?
All the more reason for her to set him straight about how things were going to be from now on.
“I’ve made a New Year’s resolution,” she said. “It kind of concerns you.”
“Yeah?” —warily.
“You’re right that I’ve been sending mixed messages. It’s not fair to you. I think we should just be friends.”
He snorted with laughter. “We’ve never been friends, Mads. We flirt and we fight and we screw, but we don’t have meaningful conversations over tall lattes.”
“Well, we could give it a shot,” she heard herself say. For the first time she thought that it might actually be possible for them to be friends. “The thing is, and I know this will come as a surprise, but I’ve realized that I really like William. And I can’t date him if I’m hooking up with you.”
He gave her a sideways look as he shifted gears. “What makes you think he wants to date you? Or that he’d even be able to hold you?”
“That’s harsh.”
“I’m just sayin’, it seems like Joy is more his speed. The two of them are like little tricycles rolling along together. You, you’re a Mustang.”
“Joy? Joy Sumner?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t think he’s planning on dumping her, either. Are you planning to break them up?”
Despite the warm breath of the heater on her legs, she felt cold. “Stop the car,” she ordered.
“What?”
“Just stop! I need to think.”
He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but he pulled in at a Waffle House and parked. He kept the engine running while she sat with her head in her hands and tried to piece together what was going on.
When she felt backward with her thoughts, she found more new memories than just the ones from last night, a second set she hadn’t had before, going back farther. William and Joy sitting together in the dining hall, holding hands, acting couple-y. William mentioning casually at dinner one evening that he’d be spending the winter break with the Sumners. The shock made her breathless.
Eric waited silently for her to get herself together. Eventually he got out of the car and ambled into the Waffle House. When he emerged, he had two lidded carry-out cups of coffee. “I forgot you need your brain fuel,” he said. “Maybe this’ll help.”
Maddie’s mind was continuing to fumble its way through the strange process of piecing together a second set of memories. “They’re engaged?” she yelled, as another piece fell into place.
“That’s what I hear.”
“But she’s supposed to be with Tanner!” When he looked at her uncomprehendingly, she rushed on. “Tanner Lindsey. Tristan, the model. Dropped out of Ash Grove, mentored by Melisande, took your place in Aerosol Cheese—” Too late she realized that that didn’t jibe with her new set of memories. And there was another thing out of place. She and Tasha and Joy had gone to McCloskey’s, where it was as if she and Joy had never roomed together, never spent time together outside of drama class. How could that be? And Joy had been upset about a stalker… but the stalker was Tanner?
Something was very wrong. Everybody was with the wrong person. And why hadn’t she and Clark and Tasha recognized Tanner as a friend when they’d seen him on campus with Mo?
“This is all messed up,” she whispered. “Listen, Eric, I need to get back to Ash Grove as fast as I can.”
He shot her a questioning look but put the car in gear. “Can’t wait to get away from me, huh?”
“It’s not that. You’ve been pretty decent.” She was surprised to realize it was true. Maybe in that other set of memories in which she spent more time with him she had trained him to be a better boyfriend. “I’m just realizing I’ve had those blackouts before, and I need to see someone and figure out what’s going on,” she improvised. In a flash of inspiration she thought of Dr. Sumner. He knew about Amdusias, about the glimpses of premonition she’d had. Maybe he could tell her what was going on now. “I’m sorry you’re in the middle of it,” she added belatedly, feeling guilty for confusing Eric.
He grinned. “There are worse things than being in the middle of you.”
“Ew, perv.” But she couldn’t get as angry with him as she used to. She remembered how he had looked lying in the hospital bed when she and William had visited him, shrunken and old before his time, with Amdusias’s seal branded into his neck. “I’m glad you’re not in a coma,” she said, and meant it.
“Seems like you’re the one who just came out of one, tequila head.” He poked her on the forehead, none too gently, and she punched his shoulder without even thinking. So this was their pattern now—bickering and then going at it like weasels. She bit her lip to quell a surge of panic. She really, really hoped Dr. Sumner could tell her what was going on. This new Body Snatcher Eric was an improvement on the old one, but she still wanted William back. And her real life.
Chapter 11
When the patrol car tur
ned into the drive of Melisande’s grounds, Tanner stirred uneasily in the back seat. “We’re not going to the station?” he asked.
“Relax, Lindsey. I’m not taking you out into the woods to shoot you.”
That would have been almost less ominous than being carted back to Melisande. When they pulled up in front of the main entrance and the cop hauled him out of the car, Tanner was dismayed to see Raven already getting out of his Jaguar and beckoning to the security guards at the door. There was no sign of the young cop with his bike—probably joyriding. “I’ll take the prisoner from here, officer,” Raven said. “Thank you for your trouble.”
“Miz Melisande said I was to personally bring him to her, sir.”
“Of course. How forgetful of me. Naturally she’ll want to thank you in person for your heroic efforts.” As they so often did, Raven’s words carried a layer of mockery, but the policeman seemed not to pick up on it. One hand gripping Tanner, who was still handcuffed, by the elbow, the cop escorted him up the steps and through the front door.
The familiar scene hit him with a wave of nausea. The bleached white decor. The huge pictures of Melisande, with the green gimlet eyes enlarged to many times life size. The muffled silence at this time of day, with the succubus’s coterie all sleeping off the excesses of the night before.
“If it isn’t my lost lamb,” came a cool, silvery voice, and they found Melisande gracefully descending the staircase.
It was the first time he’d seen her whole since Joy had reduced her to rubbish in the rose garden. She was breathtaking; he couldn’t deny that. The grace of her movements, the porcelain perfection of her face, the sensual shape of her body revealed by the thin, silky white robe she wore—the combined effect was incredibly seductive. Her hair, almost as pale as her robe, drifted around her as she moved, like seaweed under water. There was a sleepy droop to her eyelids, which was the last irresistible touch to her tempting appearance.
Tanner’s belly tightened with an awareness that was part dread and, in spite of everything, part attraction. Beside him, he felt the heavyset cop try to suck in his gut and stand up taller.
“Ma’am,” the cop said deferentially. “I found him just where you said. He wasn’t too happy about coming with me, but I managed to overpower him.”
Tanner stared at him in disbelief, and saw the man’s eyes riveted to Melisande with that dazed adoration that he had seen so many times—had felt, himself, a long time ago. Of course Melisande had the police force in her thrall. He should have expected it.
“I wish I could have seen it,” she murmured. “I do love a demonstration of manly strength.”
With part of his mind, Tanner wanted to laugh. A sledgehammer was subtle compared to her. But he knew it would be a mistake to underestimate Melisande, so he tried to keep his face blank.
“You may remove the handcuffs,” she said now. “But before you do, I would feel so much safer if you were to—what’s the expression? Frisk him.”
“Oh, I already did, ma’am.”
“Nevertheless.” She smiled, and that was the end of his protests. Tanner gritted his teeth as the cop patted him down. Melisande watched the process approvingly; it was one more way to make him feel that he was powerless. Raven, too, watched with amusement from the doorway. When he was finally freed from the handcuffs, Melisande told the officer, “Thank you so much for your help. Raven will see you out.”
“But, ma’am, if you want to make a report—”
“This is a private matter. And I greatly appreciate your assistance.” She silenced him with a melting look, and he reluctantly allowed Raven to shepherd him out the door.
“I don’t know what you think you’ve gained by having me brought here,” said Tanner when they had left the room. “I’m eighteen now—you’re not my legal guardian anymore. I can go whenever I choose.”
Melisande took a seat on a sofa across from him and crossed her long legs. She had the air of a queen granting audience to a serf. “I beg to differ,” she said, her voice still relaxed and gracious. “You may go whenever I choose, and not before. If you manage somehow to elude security and leave the grounds, the police force will be only to happy to return you to me on whatever pretext I give—as you have seen just now.”
“Why do you even want me?” he burst out. “You know I don’t love you anymore. I love Joy. What satisfaction can it be to you to have me with you when every single moment I’m wishing you dead?”
“Asked and answered,” murmured Raven, reentering the room. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from one sleeve as he lowered himself into a wingback chair.
“Indeed,” Melisande said, her smile widening, “it is exquisitely satisfying to see you so helpless and full of futility after all you’ve done to try to thwart me. It will be even more delightful to see your longing for me overcome your supposed hatred of me.”
“That’s crazy.” He spoke more sharply than he’d intended to, and that brought a gleam of pleasure into the knowing green eyes. She brought a hand up to brush her hair back, and the sleeve of her robe fell away to reveal the slender, smooth arm. He suddenly knew how it would feel to close the few yards’ distance between them and slip his hands inside her sleeves, run them over her bare arms; to pull her against his body, kiss that soft mouth—
“That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s my Tristan,” and he woke abruptly to the present moment, the echoes of desire still aching in his body, and knew that she’d been working her sorcery on him.
But that was all it was: sorcery. It wasn’t real desire he felt. Thinking now of Joy brought the poignant rush of tenderness and euphoria that Melisande could not summon in him. The passion he felt for Joy was deep and complicated and above all real, not the synthetic, sterile pleasure offered by the succubus.
“It doesn’t work anymore,” he told her. “Your tricks work on my body, maybe, but not my heart.”
That didn’t seem to faze her, though. “A few days with me and you’d forget you ever knew the Sumner girl,” she said. “But that’s not the only reason you’re here. I’m also curious to learn what destiny has in store for you, now that you’ve tampered with the natural order.”
“You’re not the natural order. You’re the most unnatural thing there is.”
A tinkling laugh greeted this pronouncement. “Silly boy. I’m not referring to how you and your little trollop incapacitated me, however temporarily.”
“What, then?”
“Rituals, castings, and spells, oh my,” chanted Raven, and smiled his satyr’s smile. “History wrangled, mangled, and made newfangled.”
“Powerful rites pilfered from older and wiser minds,” Melisande added. “Ancient magics crudely forced into new shoes for shortsighted ends. And ends they shall be, not beginnings.”
Tanner’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed with difficulty. How could they know about the rituals Steven had carried out, and his own participation in one of them? It was impossible. He had not taken a seat—it felt like giving in, somehow, to sit down with them as if they weren’t enemies—but he wouldn’t have minded the support of a chair just now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, which brought a rich chuckle from Raven.
“You’re beautiful but stupid, is that it? I don’t believe that for a moment, Tristan. We know what you and the nutty professor have been up to.”
He went for bravado. “So? What are you going to do about it?”
“Speaking for myself, I intend to figuratively settle in with a bucket of popcorn,” said Raven. “It will be fascinating to see how this goes wrong for you.”
He sounded so certain that doubt curled queasily in Tan’s stomach. “What do you think’s going to happen?”
Melisande sighed as if impatient at his slowness. “You are so ignorant in the ways of magic,” she said. “You and that foolhardy professor both. Did you think there would be no repercussions? That all of the threads you plucked asunder would weave themselves smoothly back into place?”
>
“We had everything worked out.” But Raven was right there, clear proof that their plans hadn’t gone as expected. Worst of all had been seeing Joy once again returned to a place where she didn’t know him—and engaged to William, no less! Something had gotten royally screwed up. “What made things go wrong?” he couldn’t help asking. “What didn’t we think of?”
Melisande’s pale hair shimmered as she shook her head at him, but her voice was indulgent, almost loving, when she spoke again. “My dear sweet boy, why would I tell you that? It is too delightful to watch your uncertainty eat at you. At least, it is delightful for as long as it lasts—and that will not be long.” Her eyes were empty of expression as she said, “You are not, as they say, long for this world.”
“Why?” Was she going to kill him? He made himself breathe through the apprehension that threatened to grip him.
“The butterfly effect,” said Raven, dangling one Italian loafer idly from a toe. “Any change to the past has untold effects on the present. And in a past where you and the amiable Miss Sumner never had that first, fateful graveyard tryst—well, you can imagine.”
“You yourself said it.” Melisande’s silvery voice sounded far away as new and dire thoughts chased each other through his head. “She saved your life ‘so many times,’ you said. She saved you from yourself, and from me.”
It was true. Joy had held him back from acting on his self-destructive impulses, which included trying to sacrifice himself to Melisande. But how did she and Raven know this? They sounded as if they knew…
“…that you considered killing yourself?” Her soft voice jarred him out of his thoughts, and he stared at her, shocked. “Yes, my love, I can see what’s in your mind. I know that you came close to ending your life before deciding that a chubby little teenager redeemed it for you.” A derisive note twisted the words. “So it will be interesting to see what wins the race as the ripples spread and the past catches up with the present. Shall you do away with yourself in one of the conventional ways, or endure until Samhain and give yourself to me?”
Among the Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles) Page 13
