Poison Princess ac-1

by Kresley Cole

  How quaint.

  She didn’t even know how wicked a kisser he was.

  Jackson seemed to be hanging on her every word as their conversation moved on to motorcycle engine horsepower and tire treads.

  Tire. Treads.

  How could Selena know all that stuff? It was like they spoke a foreign language that I could never learn.

  My heart sank when she drank out of his beer, then gave the bottle back, as if they were a couple.

  Back at Haven, I’d wiped his flask with my sleeve.

  His attraction to me truly had been just about slim pickings. He’d liked me out of nécessité. As he’d readily admitted. But give him a choice . . .

  He would never want to leave this realm of beer and electricity and leggy archers.

  And I needed him to get to Gran’s. Only to get there. For no other reason. At all.

  Maybe I shouldn’t roll over and let her have him so easily. I recalled how possessive I’d been about Brandon. I thought of what Mel would say: “Stop being a puss and take your toy back. What are you—minced meat?”

  Selena asked him, “Will you say back there again?”

  He complied. With his accent, it sounded like a rumbly bag dare.

  “Cajun is sooo hawt, J.D.”

  J.D.? Okay, that was the final straw!

  I strolled out onto the lanai, fake smile in place. “Dinner smells delicious.”

  Jackson’s gaze moved over me. I thought I detected approval in his expression, but then he looked away as if he could barely stand the sight of me.

  “Just in time, Evie,” Selena said. “I’ve got everything ready.”

  I surveyed the outdoor table, immaculately set with nice silver and crisp napkins. Covered dishes steamed with mouthwatering aromas.

  “We’re having quail, asparagus, and mushroom risotto. Hot apple cobbler for dessert.”

  I smiled thinly. Martha Stewart called, wants her shtick back. “Can I help?”

  Jackson snorted. And Selena play-slapped his chest, like he was her mischievous boyfriend.

  At that, the initial mrowr pfft pfft I’d felt transformed into I will cut a bitch.

  No, no, no. I had to think about this rationally! She might help me discover more about the Arcana.

  But then, Jackson’s assistance was critical to my getting to Gran’s, to finding out all, and I was losing him.

  Ever polite, Selena opened a sweating beer bottle for me. “Here you go.”

  The last thing I needed was to lose control, but I politely took a sip. “Cheers.”

  “You guys take a seat. J.D., you’re over here.” She pointed out the chair right beside hers, which put me on the other side of the large table alone.

  When they dug in, Jackson groaned at his first bite. And she can cook, too.

  My mouth should have been watering, but I was too nervous. I kept imagining how dangerous—and lonely—the road was going to be without him.

  That was the only reason I felt like crying. Not because he’d told me he was going to take care of me, making it sound like a promise.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Selena asked me.

  “Doan worry about her.” Jackson spooned more risotto onto his plate. “Plus pour nous.” More for us.

  Seemed he was no longer concerned about this growing girl’s ultimate bra size. Because he’d shut those thoughts down. . . .

  Over dinner, I learned of all the things that J.D. and Lara Croft had in common. I thought about proposing a new drinking game: Take a swig every time Selena said to Jackson, “No way! Me too!”

  They loved to hunt and fish. Both had been shooting a bow since they were little. Selena modestly admitted that she’d been training for Olympic archery before the Flash struck.

  Jackson looked far more impressed with that than he had with my dance trophies.

  She and Jackson were both soon to be nineteen. Once she’d realized I was more than two years younger, Selena had started talking to me in a patronizing tone, like I was their plucky, annoying tagalong. “Oh, no, J.D., I gave her a beer!” she’d cried, jabbing him with an elbow. “Should we take it away?”

  I hadn’t wanted my beer. Now I dared her to reach for it.

  Wonder of wonders, Selena was also an ace motocross rider, had even raced against the boys.

  In fact, she gleefully told Jackson, “I rode so much each weekend that my family got me my own industrial-size tank of gasoline. It’s still half-full. Hey, we could go off-roading tomorrow, if the weather holds. You won’t believe the trails I could take you on, J.D.”

  It was as if Selena had been factory-made for him. Any hope I’d had of keeping his attention was doused.

  I didn’t care—I didn’t. Even if he’d liked me, I had nothing to offer him and wouldn’t want some Cajun biker thief anyway. A drunken one. Though I hadn’t finished my beer, he and Selena were pounding them.

  As if she felt my eyes on her, Selena faced me. “If you don’t like the quail, I can cook you something else. I’ve got a bunker full of cans, freeze-dried foods, and jarred vegetables. Just let me know, honey.”

  Honey? No one called me that but my mother. Thinking of Mom, I forced myself to be polite. “You’re so considerate, but I’m full.” I turned to Jackson. “Can I talk to you after you’re done eating?”

  He glanced up, looking maybe a shade less pissed than before. “About what?”

  “The trip tomorrow.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Non. Nothing to talk about.”

  My face heated at his dismissive tone.

  Selena blinked in confusion. “The trip tomorrow? Where are you headed?”

  Had Jackson not told her? I felt like I couldn’t dodge answering now. “North Carolina.”

  “J.D. told me you might stay for a spell.”

  “Did J.D.?”

  He merely raised his brows at me, his expression saying, What are you goan to do about it?

  I began to comprehend that I was truly about to be on my own.

  “So what’s in North Carolina, Evie?” Selena wanted to know.

  “I have family there. A grandmother.”

  “Well, you don’t have to leave so quickly. I would love the company, even for a couple of days. And it’s really safe here—no Baggers, no militia-types.” She touched Jackson’s forearm for the thousandth time. “There’s still game around here. The three of us could clean up.”

  “Evie? Hunt?” He gave a mocking laugh, and, God, how it stung. “She can’t shoot, no, can’t do much of anything.” He drunkenly snapped his fingers. “Oh, wait, she’s an expert at looking down her nose at folks.”

  While I sat there burning with humiliation, Selena glanced from Jackson to me and back.

  I’d made an effort to be pleasant. And look how well that had turned out. I couldn’t compete with the heaven-sent girl who loved every single thing he did, who could talk expertly about all the things he was passionate about.

  So what did I have to lose? “I’m also good at keeping secrets,” I murmured to him with a serene smile. “Apparently, that drives some boys crazy.” She shoots; she scores.

  His sneer deepened. “Secrets doan keep a bed warm at night.”

  Enough. “If you’re going to be a dick, J.D., I’m going to bed.” To Selena, I said, “Thank you for the dinner. Sorry I couldn’t be better company. But enjoy this one, such a classy guy. A real gentleman.”

  His knuckles whitened on his bottle.

  As I took my plate to the kitchen sink, I heard Selena snickering at something Jackson said. Was he telling her a story about my clumsiness? My cluelessness?

  Dejected, I headed back toward my room, listlessly viewing the family pictures in a hallway gallery. Selena was in none of them. I didn’t see a single picture of her shooting her bow in a tournament or proudly gearing up on a motocross track. Odd.

  Back in my room, I found some computer paper and a pencil in a desk drawer. I was itching to sketch Jackson as he’d looked when he gazed down at me in the pool,
his face lit by the moon.

  It hurt too much to draw him; it hurt too much not to. I’d just taken up the pencil in my shaking hand when a knock sounded on the door.

  How badly I wanted it to be him! To have him come sleep in the same room with me, as we’d done for weeks.

  But he’d never knock. “Come in.”

  Selena meandered inside, visibly tipsy. As good as a Bayou Bessie.

  “Hey, Evie, can we have a girl chat?” Instead of sitting at the foot of the bed, standard protocol for girl chats, she crossed to the dresser, checking her nearly waist-length mane of hair in the mirror.

  “Sure. I’ve got something I wanted to talk to you about as well.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Earlier when we met, you looked like you recognized me. Did you?”

  She gazed at me through the mirror with an indulgent expression. “Um, no. When would we have met?”

  “It just seemed—”

  “I was surprised because I was seeing a girl, Evie. You’re the first female I’ve seen after the Flash. There’re never any girls anymore.”

  That made absolute sense. So why did I get the feeling she was lying? “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I wanted to make sure that you and J.D. aren’t an item.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sometimes guys say stuff to other girls about being single or whatnot . . . well, you know how it is, girlfriend. I wanted to confirm with you.”

  I tried to make my tone casual. “What’d he say about us?”

  “I asked if you two were exclusive, and he emphatically said no.”

  I was so naïve! When he’d told me he was going to take care of me, he’d meant it in that other way—the one usually accompanied by vulgar hand gestures or waggled eyebrows.

  Sure, I’d known Jackson had been a player, but I’d stupidly imagined there’d been something special between us. He’d just wanted to get laid.

  Even postapocalypse, some things did remain the same.

  As Selena gazed at her reflection, pinching her cheeks for color and tugging down her blouse to show more cleavage, I realized his chances were promising.

  He’d probably use that condom of his this very night. My face grew hot with unshed tears. Wanting nothing more than to get rid of her—for now—I said, “He’s right, Selena. No ER with us.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said with a relieved breath. “I really like him, Evie. I never expected to meet a guy. Here. With you. Much less that he’d be a perfect match for me.” In a softer tone, she added, “I always assumed I’d be alone forever. I just never expected . . . him.”

  For the first time, I got the sense that she was being sincere. And that made me wonder: Had she been expecting me?

  Seeming to snap out of her thoughts, she made her manner brisk. “I’ll let him know you were just as emphatic, and clear the air of any misunderstandings. See you in the morning!”

  Yes, in the morning I would investigate this girl more. For now I planned to choke on tears and voices.

  29

  DAY 236 A.F.

  —Need to talk to you.—

  The next morning, I heard Matthew in my head, just seconds after I awakened.

  I was groggy and puffy-eyed, yawning after my fitful sleep. “Matthew, you won’t believe this, but one of the Arcana is here, the Bringer of Doubt.”

  —La Luna. She’s the Moon Card. The Archer.—

  So if every Arcana had supernatural powers, hers was archery? The Olympics frowns on performance enhancers, Selena. Or it’d used to. “Meeting her was wild,” I told Matthew. “I heard her call so clearly, then poof, her voice in my head went silent. And when we first met, I saw something flash over her, like a picture.”

  —Tableau. A card. How we recognize each other. But Evie . . .—

  “I knew it. I’ve been hearing her voice for months, and now I’m in her house? This is too weird.” I stretched my arms over my head, surprised my migraine wasn’t worse. The pain was manageable—even though he sounded much louder than normal. Had I cut some of the distance between us?

  “So is the Moon good? Or evil, like Ogen?” I wished Matthew would say she was just like El Diablo, or worse than! I’d be forced to get Jackson away from her.

  —Good or evil?— Matthew sounded confused by my question. —She’s the Moon. But Empress, we need to talk . . .—

  “What’s up?” Rubbing my eyes, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and eased to my feet.

  The bed disappeared behind me.

  “Matthew?”

  I was no longer in Selena’s guest room. I found myself standing with Matthew in his basement playroom, but water was rising around our calves. His khaki pants and long-sleeved button-down were soaking wet. He was shivering.

  A flashlight burned from a peg on a nearby wall, allowing me to see him clearly. His face and hair were dripping, his brows drawn together.

  I’d known he had even features and deep brown eyes. But now I could see lighter flecks in his eyes, could gauge the strength of his lean physique. He was almost as tall as Jackson.

  “Why are we down here and where’s all this water coming from?” Obviously, there were still big reserves of water out in the world—we just had to find one.

  Then secure it.

  “Tremors,” he said. “Pipe burst. Water tower.”

  “Then the whole place could flood?” When he nodded, I said, “Matthew, you have to leave this room immediately!”

  He remained motionless, like a dog that had been commanded to sit in the middle of a busy freeway. “Can’t.” He looked so pitiful, so lost, his big brown eyes darting.

  “Yes, you can! Get out now,” I ordered him, wishing I could shake his shoulders. The protectiveness I felt for him staggered me.

  Beanbags floated past our legs as the water steadily rose. “Can’t,” he repeated. “Mother locked me in.”

  “Why would she do that to you? Does she know your basement is flooding?”

  He nodded. How could she condemn him to drown?

  “Mother knows what’s b-best for Matthew.” He rubbed his palms over his upper arms. “Mother knows I won’t stay in the car. Shouldn’t have fixed engine. Bad, Matthew, BAD!”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying! Kid, just listen to me. Is there a window? There has to be a way out! You’re strong—go break down the door!”

  “Clock stops. Don’t have to see the future to know that.”

  “What does that mean? Like, you’ll die?” The idea rocked me. I had this friend out in the world waiting for me. Now I was going to lose him?

  “Mother’s dead. I follow.”

  No, he can’t die! “I’m coming for you! Where are you?” Please be close enough for me to reach in time. . . .

  He gave me a sad smile. “I’ve always been on your way.” The vision wavered, then changed to a time before the Flash.

  He was in a backyard, at a barbecue with other kids, but they wouldn’t talk to him. So he wandered off, standing all alone as a rocket blasted off in the distance.

  “Rocket? Oh, dear God, you’re in Houston! Or . . . or Florida!” Just as I started to despair, I saw a hilly dirt road scored with washboard ruts. Hilly?

  Then I clearly saw the T-shirt he’d worn. HUNTSVILLE SPACE CAMP. “Huntsville! In Alabama?” Only one state over.

  But all the way north.

  “Matthew, how long ago did it start flooding?”

  “Couple of hours.” So roughly one foot every two hours. Maybe?

  I could make it to Huntsville in time—if I could talk Jackson into driving me and the winds cooperated. “I’m coming for you, kid. Just hang on!”

  Once the vision faded, I hurried to dress in another borrowed outfit—jeans too tight over my ass and too long and a T-shirt. I yanked on my damp boots over a pair of spotlessly white socks.

  Minutes later, I was jogging down the stairs with my packed bug-out bag.

  I found Jackson in th
e kitchen, shirtless, wearing only his new jeans. He sat with his head in his hand at the breakfast counter, while Selena—clad in a short silk robe—happily scrambled powdered eggs for them.

  She poured him a tall glass of some orange drink, then doused it with a healthy splash from a vodka bottle. He took the drink without a word, blearily downing half of it in one gulp.

  When she rubbed a knuckle in his hair, I realized that I was probably witnessing their morning after. And I wanted to vomit.

  This domestic scene dashed any lingering hope that Jackson wouldn’t sleep with her. He’d found a girl who would “put out.” And I knew he would never leave this Shangri-la of hunting and gourmet food and sex.

  Not for the irritating former cheerleader who couldn’t heat soup. The one who always made things so difficult for him. The miserable tease.

  But for Matthew’s sake, I would still try to get Jackson’s help. Even if he didn’t pick me.

  Hoping to ward off my tears, I assumed a cheery air. “Good morning, guys.”

  He swiped his forearm over his mouth. In a murderous tone, he said, “Where you goan, Evangeline?”

  “Same place I’ve always been going, Jackson.” Just need to make a quick stop on the way to save a boy’s life.

  Selena sat at the counter and crossed her long legs, unconcerned when her robe split all the way to her upper thighs. But hey, Jackson had already seen the goods, right? “Evie, I talked it over with J.D. last night—and you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. Like, even permanently.”

  They had talked it over, and they were extending the invitation. My claws tingled—as if they were waking up. “Thank you for the offer, but I have to get going.”

  “You’d really leave all this food and water behind?” she asked. “The electricity and security?”

  Yes, her estate was perfect. Too perfect. A place like this could tempt a girl from her mission if she wasn’t careful.

  “North Carolina is cannibal and plague territory,” she continued. “What’s the rush?” She seemed very serious about getting to the bottom of this.

  Jackson hadn’t told her the details? Not during their beer binge last night, or their—what was it called—their pillow talk?