Coldhearted (9781311888433)

by Matthews, Melanie

  She missed Mason most of all. He’d never been compelled to love her. He just had. He’d been her first love, and she’d lost him, before she’d really gotten the chance to know him. She wasn’t an expert on ghost studies, but she assumed that Mason’s spirit—if it’d been separated from his body—was wandering around the school’s gym, lost and all alone. She hoped not. She hoped that when he’d died, his spirit had gone to Heaven, despite what her uncle had said about souls staying with their bodies until the Resurrection.

  Wherever Mason was, she hoped that he wasn’t suffering. She hoped that he was at peace.

  If only I had such a peace. If only I could be with him in this mysterious afterlife.

  Chapter 30

  Hours or days had passed.

  She couldn’t tell exactly, but she knew that time had moved forward. She’d died at night and now it was morning. The sun was shining through an open space of curtains inside Tristan’s bedroom.

  It was enough light to illuminate a mahogany bookshelf against the wall, its shelves packed with leather-bound books. One book was missing. Tristan was holding it open, as he sat on a cushioned bench, below a bay window. The curtains to it were drawn. He was reading by lamplight.

  She sat up on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked him.

  Tristan looked up. “I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She blinked. “I fell asleep?”

  Tristan closed his book, not bothering to bookmark the page that he’d been reading. He remained sitting on the cushioned bench. She wondered if that’d been his spot of serenity when he’d been alive at Lockhart Manor. Though she didn’t know why he’d needed a refuge. By Adrian’s account, Tristan had grown up in a loving home.

  “Yes,” he said, and then added, “well, not asleep, really, but your eyes were closed, and you seemed…at peace.”

  She furrowed her brow, confused. “I don’t feel like I’ve even woken.”

  She got up, not needing to stretch or yawn, and went to a window, separating the curtains. The sun was rising in the east; by its position, she estimated the time to be around eight in the morning.

  Uncle Landon must be worried. I never came home last night.

  “I envy you,” Tristan said. “Being able to rest…you looked so beautiful.” He smiled. “Of course you always look beautiful.”

  She didn’t respond to his compliment, but she did turn toward him, nodding with her chin at his book. “What are you reading?”

  Tristan opened his mouth, hesitated, and then replied, “A journal I used to keep.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised.

  He went on. “I didn’t have anyone to talk to, but I needed to express myself, so I wrote; not only my feelings, but stories too, of distant lands, where I wished I lived, instead of this one.” He sounded so sad. “I used to keep it hidden under my mattress, and I wrote every day until…until…” He trailed off, stood up, and returned the thick journal to the bookshelf.

  It seemed like he’d taken it down and read it many, many times over the years. It was the only one, besides the book The Pilgrim’s Progress that stood next to it, not caked in dust.

  He turned and stared at her, hands into his pockets, waiting for her to say something.

  “Why did you kill your parents? Why do you hate your brother so much?” she interrogated, feeling bold.

  Tristan flared his nostrils, angry. “Because,” he replied vaguely.

  “That’s not an answer,” she said.

  “That’s all the answer you’re ever going to get,” he said in a hard tone.

  “When you were alive, why did you hate your life so much?” she went on.

  He shut his mouth, refusing to answer.

  “Why do you hate yourself?” she surmised, using the present tense.

  No response.

  “Did you really love Arianna? Were you heartbroken when she chose Adrian and not you? Is that when you began your downward spiral? Is that when you snapped? Is that why you created imaginary worlds to escape to? Did you not want to function in a world without Arianna? Is she a character in your stories? Are you the hero, and Adrian, the villain? Do you get the girl in the end?” Edie rambled on, asking question after question, knowing that she’d never get a response.

  She was wrong. Tristan opened his mouth to speak. The first word he said was “bitch,” and then he continued in a more gentlemanly manner.

  “I would’ve never fallen for Arianna if she didn’t give me hope that we’d be together.”

  “What?” Edie asked, shaking her head.

  Tristan didn’t immediately respond. Instead he began pacing the room, hands into his pockets, looking down, as he walked back and forth. Finally, he stopped, but kept his eyes on the tracks that he’d made into the carpet.

  “We were children when she told me.”

  “Told you what?”

  Now he looked up at Edie. “That she loved me,” he replied with sad eyes. “I was her first kiss, did you know that? Not Adrian. She said one day, we’d be married with children. She said that she’d been writing her new name, over and over again: Arianna Lockhart.”

  Despite all his lies, Edie believed him. “So what happened?”

  His lips lifted into a half smile, but he wasn’t happy. “I found out that she’d been telling Adrian the same thing. You see, she was playing us, me and my brother.”

  Edie shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think she did that.”

  “You didn’t know her,” he said with disgust at Edie’s ignorance. “She was a trickster, telling us what we wanted to hear.”

  “Well,” Edie said, considering the facts, “she was just a child. She didn’t know what she was doing. When she got older, why did she choose Adrian?” Edie asked, even though the answer was crystal clear.

  “He was safe,” Tristan said. That seemed completely true, given what Edie knew of Adrian Lockhart. “You see, he was the perfect gentleman, and I was the perfect rascal. When she was a child, she liked my devious nature; it mirrored hers. However, as she grew older, she was persuaded—and I use that term loosely—to behave in a more civilized manner. She cared how she looked, wore pretty dresses, and fussed over her hair. She wanted to stay indoors, drink tea, and dine with members of high society. The Lockharts were high society, especially Adrian, who’d been admitted to law school and desired a future in politics.” Tristan wrinkled his noise, disgusted at the occupation. “Well, in Mr. Worthington’s eyes, Adrian was the perfect husband for his little girl, so he made sure the two were always in orbit, while I was flung out across the universe, into the darkness of space. I was Tristan the Troublemaker, while Adrian was the ‘Angel’.”

  He gave a crooked smile, reminiscing. “Once, at a dinner party, I rose from the table, and reminded everyone, even angels could be devils, Lucifer being a prime example. And if God were all-knowing, he would’ve known Lucifer would rebel against him. He would’ve stopped his archangel, yet he didn’t. So it’s God’s fault, not Satan’s, that there’s so much evil in the world.” Tristan’s smile faded. “My father slapped my face in front of everyone and called me a ‘blasphemer’. I was then sent to my room without dinner. I thought it was over, but then…well, when the guests had left, he barreled into my room and beat me, severely. For three days, I couldn’t move without crying in pain. For three days, my father made me read the entire Bible aloud from Genesis to Revelation. At the end of those three days, he made me get on my knees and pray to God, asking for forgiveness.”

  He’d been looking down, but now he turned his face up at Edie. She noticed that he’d been crying, but he looked angry, not sad. “And did you know, during those three days, my brother, the ‘Angel,’ never came to see me? Like I had the Mark of the Beast etched into my forehead?” He reached up and angrily scratched his forehead, as if the sign were really there and it bothered him. “My mother never came to see me! The woman who gave birth to me acted like she had a demon
for a son! And Arianna, my first love, the girl I thought of day and night, dreaming we’d be together, refused to see me for an entire month! And when she did, she said she was disgusted with my behavior! Of my blasphemy! When I reminded her that she had voiced the same opinion when we’d been children, she slapped my face.

  “She said she’d spoken out of ignorance, not knowing any better, and now she’d changed, realized the truth. I shot back I knew the truth too: she was a harlot! I accused her of having premarital sex with Adrian, and threatened to go to her father with the news. I was just bluffing, I had no idea, but the look on her face told me I was right. She looked as pale as death and asked what she could do to keep my mouth shut. She begged me, saying she’d do anything. I took advantage of her distress, of the scandal she so wished to avoid, and that evening, she shared my bed; and the evening after that and the evening after that, until we ended our affair a month later. It wasn’t my choice. We couldn’t continue because we were dead,” he said dryly.

  “I killed Adrian when I found out he was going to ask Arianna for her hand in marriage. And she killed me when she found out I’d killed my brother. All alone, I was trapped in Lockhart Manor for many, many years, until of course you arrived, Edie, and I saw my chance to escape this dusty, old prison.” He paused, staring into her eyes, and then continued, “And now…well, now I’m trapped again, and it’s all due to another girl, a girl I fell in love with, who I’d thought was different, but I should’ve known you’d betray me, just as Arianna did. It’s in your sex, you women, scheming, lying, playing games with men’s hearts, and cackling with glee like some witch, brewing up another boiling batch of misery upon the male sex. You’re nothing more than a modern Delilah.” His tone was sharp and it cut her to the bone.

  Edie stared into his hateful eyes. “How do you expect me to love you when you say things like that?”

  “Because I know you never will,” he admitted softly. “If we’re going to spend eternity together, we should speak the truth, shouldn’t we?” He didn’t wait for a reply and continued, “So now it’s your turn to speak the truth: how did you feel when I kissed you?”

  If she were alive, her heart would be racing. “I…liked it,” she confessed. He kept staring at her, as if more were needed to be said. Ashamed, she continued, “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had.” She lifted up one shoulder into a half shrug. “Then again, I am dead, so kissing that light bulb would make me hot all over,” she said dryly, gesturing at the lit lamp.

  Instead of verbally responding to her remark, Tristan just advanced, silent, until he halted a foot from her, and then he stepped closer, so their faces were inches apart. She retreated. He advanced. She retreated again, and he advanced again, until they made their way across the room, dancing. She couldn’t retreat any more, her back against the wall. She willed herself to travel through it, but it seemed being a corporeal ghost had its limitations. At least for her it did.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, placing her hands against his chest.

  He took her hands and extended her arms, wrapping them around his neck, before he brought his face closer to hers. “Don’t what?” he challenged, brushing his hot lips against hers.

  Repulsed, she took her hands and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Don’t,” she warned through clenched teeth, and then released him, to only push him away. He stared at her, speechless. “Don’t,” she repeated more forcefully, pointing a threatening finger at him. “I’m not Arianna. You can’t blackmail me into sleeping with you, and I don’t care how hot you are, I’ll never, ever give in to you.”

  She expected a blowup, but he merely cocked his head to the side like a dog, hearing something very far away. He straightened his head and gave her a wicked smile. “Well, well, well,” he said, knowing something that she didn’t. “You think you have power of me? Well, you’re about to be tested, my sweet. Get ready.”

  In a flash, he was at the door, opening it halfway, but then he stopped. Over his shoulder, he said, “I think I’ll go after Madelyn this time. You know what they say: redheads are wild in bed.”

  Moving quickly again, he was out the room and down the stairs. It wasn’t until Edie heard Madelyn’s voice did she realize that her redheaded friend was inside the house. Edie rushed out of his bedroom, took the steps two a time, and then skidded to a halt in the middle of the foyer, behind Tristan. With all the force that she could muster, she grabbed the back of his shirt, forced him down on his knees, and then snaked her arm around his neck in a chokehold. He struggled briefly, and then stilled, defeated. She knew that it wasn’t her physical strength. It was her spiritual strength keeping him down.

  When he was subdued, Edie turned her attention toward the crowd standing in the foyer. It wasn’t just Madelyn. She was joined by Diana, Quinn, Jules, Russell, Uncle Landon, and even Gunnar, Rory, Bree, and Amee.

  Edie was overjoyed at their arrival, but confused as to why they’d entered Lockhart Manor, and concerned that they’d risked their lives by doing so.

  “What are y’all doing here?” she asked anyone who would answer.

  No one responded. No one looked her way. She and Tristan were unseen. Ghosts.

  “They can’t hear you,” a familiar voice said.

  Still maintaining her hold on Tristan, Edie turned her head to see Adrian and Arianna, transparent, standing apart from the group.

  It was Arianna who’d spoken. “What’s going on?” Edie asked her.

  “It’s a rescue mission,” Tristan spoke up, sounding displeased. “I’ve been hearing snippets of their conspiracy for the past hour.”

  Edie shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “That’s because you’re deaf and dumb,” Tristan said, and then he shrugged. “You’re a blonde, so I don’t hold it against you.”

  Edie applied more pressure to his neck with her arm.

  He winced, and then said, “I’m dead, so you can’t choke me to death.”

  “Yeah, but I can make you feel miserable as hell.”

  “I’m always miserable,” he said. “Now I’m just annoyed.”

  Edie ignored him, and said to Arianna, “Why is everyone here? What’s going on?”

  Arianna opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Russell. “Edie?!” he called out, his eyes searching for her in vain. “Edie, show yourself!”

  “Oh, there’s your lover,” Tristan said. “Scratch Madelyn. I think I’ll get reacquainted with my descendant.” Edie could hear his maniacal grin. “More fun that way.”

  Edie opened her mouth to protest, but she was cut off by Jules, who’d broken away from the group, and was now holding up a piece of jewelry. It was Edie’s necklace.

  “Edie?” Jules called out, as the necklace swung like a pendulum, back and forth. “We found a way to release you. It’s through this,” she added, raising the necklace higher. “It’s a trigger object. It belonged to you, and if you touch it, there’s a chance you’ll be pulled out of the spirit world, and back to the living world, back to us.”

  Edie was shaking her head in disbelief. It was too good to be true.

  “Edie?” Quinn called out. “Edie, we miss you, baby girl. Please find us. Please grab the necklace. You have to try.”

  A chorus of support rose from everyone else, cheering her on, persuading her to do one simple act: let go of Tristan and take hold of the necklace.

  “Edie?” her uncle called out next, when she’d failed to quickly make her choice. “Edie, I heard about Mason and thought you’d run away, upset, but then…well, your friends brought me here, when they’d made contact with Adrian and Arianna. You know, before, I never believed in ghosts, but then I heard them, Edie. When Adrian took over Russell, and told me what you’d done, the sacrifice you’d made, I refused to let you go. And so did your friends. And now we’re here. We’re here to release your spirit. Come back, Edie. Come back home.”

  Edie turned toward Adrian and Arianna. “Can it be done?” she asked the pair of transparent gho
sts.

  Adrian nodded and took a step forward. “Arianna and I will exchange places with you. We’ll keep Tristan imprisoned here inside the house with us. Don’t worry, Edie.”

  “Take your freedom,” Arianna said, joining Adrian’s side. “I’m sorry you had to die in order for this to happen, but if you leave now, you can be with your loved ones again.” She approached and laid a hand on Edie’s shoulder; Arianna felt cold, but it didn’t bother Edie. “You’re corporeal,” Arianna said, and then gestured at Edie’s family and friends. “They’ll have you back, as you were, but…you’ll still be dead, I’m sorry. We can give you your freedom, but we can’t bring you back to life.” She let go of Edie’s shoulder. “Take it, Edie, and never come back here!”

  As Edie loosened her hold, Tristan cursed, and latched onto her sweater, pulling her back to him. “No, no!” he yelled in anguish and anger. “You can’t leave me! You can’t leave me!” He was starting to cry, his fingers digging into her sweater, refusing to let her go. “I love you! I love you! Don’t leave me!”

  He kept pulling on her sweater, and she kept trying to yank it back, but then she gave up, and threw it off her, freeing herself, grateful to be wearing a T-shirt over her bra. He held onto her sweater, looking down at it in his hands, wondering where she’d gone.

  She loved that sweater, but it was a small price to pay to earn her freedom.

  Tristan balled it up and smashed it against his face, crying into it, as Arianna and Adrian held him down, one hand placed on each shoulder.

  “Hurry,” Adrian urged. “We’re attached to him now. We can restrain him, but we’re not as powerful as you are. It takes our combined strength to hold him. Hurry, Edie, and leave! Once you’re gone, Arianna and I will seal off Lockhart Manor. No one will ever enter again. And no one will ever leave again,” he added, tightening his grip on Tristan’s shoulder. Adrian’s confidence then faltered, slightly, as he continued, “But I’m not taking any chances. Russell, as a Lockhart descendent, has agreed to buy the property, ensuring its care in knowledgeable hands against curious trespassers.”