Amber frowned. She stared over Tiffany’s shoulder, glimpsing the field through the narrow window in the door. “Can I get by please? I need to go somewhere.”
“Do you? Where?”
“Does it matter?” Amber asked. She squeezed her fists tighter. “Move.”
Tiffany sighed and shook her head. “Amber, he’s not worth it. Jason’s just a slutty little homo who’s only bringing you down. You could be so much better! You could be with us, be with me. I’d teach you how to take care of yourself, fix your hair right, iron your clothes. I know I could bring a four like you are now up to at least a six or seven by the end of the year. You might not even have to take your little gay friend as your prom date. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Tiffany’s friends giggled. Amber’s heartbeat quickened. Her fingernails bit into her palms.
“You could even come hang out with us outside of school,” Tiffany suggested. “Forget about Jason. He’s no good for you. We’re good for you. We can make this year the best year of your life. It’s up to you.”
“Or you can make it the worst? Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
“It’s not what I want,” Tiffany snapped. “It’s what he did.”
“He? Jason hasn’t….” A light bulb clicked in Amber’s mind. “Jason and Ryder.”
Tiffany’s scowl could’ve burnt fire. “There is no Jason and Ryder!”
It all made so much sense now. Jason had mentioned something about getting over all the closet cases at school. Then, after Tiffany ambushed Amber in the hall, he had joked about asking Ryder out. Something must have happened between them, and Tiffany found out about it. On the one hand, she was upset Jason never told her. On the other, she was livid she’d been little more than a tool both he and Tiffany used to get at one another.
Amber folded her arms. “There isn’t anymore, is there, Tiffany? But there was once.”
The two girls behind Tiffany traded knowing glances. Tiffany’s pale face turned scarlet. She jabbed her finger at Amber and started to speak, but the anger died in her eyes, replaced by a cool, calm poison and a wide smile. She lowered her hand and smoothed her shirt. “That’s for sure.”
A burst of fear widened Amber’s eyes. “You went to Ms. Tinsley this morning. You wanted to get me away from him, didn’t you?”
“Jason’s got a big mouth. He’s been talking about him and Ryder to anyone who’ll listen. If you had any friends, you’d know that. But you’re so annoyingly emo and obsessed with your dead brother, you had no idea. Ryder’s tired of it. Ryder’s going to make sure Jason never says his name again. You had your chance to be with us. Remember that.”
Amber blinked, stepping back. “Oh God, the text. It was Ryder?”
Tiffany stepped forward. “Go back to your stupid little art studio and let them take care of it.”
“Let me through!”
Tiffany folded her arms and lifted her chin, her gleaming eyes staring at Amber down the smooth bridge of her nose. “Don’t make this any harder than it is. Go back to your studio like a good girl and be artsy about your stupid dead brother.”
The air in the hall stilled. A ball of rage swirling within Amber sprouted thorns. She inhaled. She exhaled. And in a flash, her hand was around Tiffany’s throat, squeezing so hard Amber felt the girl’s pulse against her fingertips. “And nobody will care about you, either.”
Amber’s mind ripped inside Tiffany’s and tore every fear, every terror, every nightmare swirling in her thoughts to the surface. In the space of an instant, she forced the girl to relive them all, to remember them all, and to know it was Amber who brought them to life.
Tiffany gagged and sobbed, her knees buckling. Her two friends screamed and ran away. Tiffany clawed at Amber’s wrist, but she didn’t feel the pain. She didn’t feel much of anything.
“I could make you live them every night if I wanted,” she whispered in a voice that wasn’t her own.
Amber hurled Tiffany aside and kicked the doors open. They crashed apart, slamming into the school’s brick walls.
Bitter winds greeted her. Amber embraced them, untying her ponytail and letting the breeze toss her hair around her shoulders. The wind cooled the sweat on her cheeks as she stomped to the empty field. That ball of dark rage within her swelled, and her mind expanded around her. She sensed two figures in the equipment shed, and although she couldn’t see them, she knew one was Ryder and one Jason.
As she marched toward the shed, she heard the cries, the sobbing. Her heart lurched into her throat. Her blood heated to a boil. She still had yards to go before she reached the building. She raised a hand toward the door, and it exploded from the wall, flying clear over her head and shattering against the school behind her.
Amber stepped through the empty doorway. Light streamed around her, washing over the dusty footballs, broken pads, torn jerseys, and bent and leaky water bottles. Jason lay crumbled and sobbing in their midst, clutching his ribs. Bruises covered his knuckles and arms, and blood dribbled from his lips.
Someone stood behind him, cloaked in a dark corner. Her gaze slowly shifted from her friend to the figure. “Ryder.”
Ryder stepped over Jason, brandishing a baseball bat. His wide eyes gawked at the shattered doorway. He swallowed when he recognized Amber, his knuckles whitening on the Louisville Slugger. “How the hell did you get that door off?”
He glanced over her shoulder, his eyes furrowing at the empty field through the doorway.
“You hurt him,” Amber said. Her gaze drifted to Jason and settled there. “You hurt my friend.”
Amber’s eyes snapped to Ryder. She stepped toward him. He snarled, barreling toward Amber. “Whatever, freak, get the hell out of my way!”
As Ryder came rushing toward her, Amber opened her palms and smiled. Her body burst into grey mist. Ryder gasped, tripping on his feet and crashing to his knees as he stumbled right through her.
Her body reformed, and she swung around, clamping a hand on his shoulder. His memories, his phobias, his anxieties, his nightmares—they all flooded her mind. In less than a heartbeat Amber knew the tiniest details of everything Ryder feared and hated about the world and himself, and she brought all of them boiling to the surface.
She spun Ryder around and lifted him to his feet. Tears streamed from his swollen eyes down his flushed cheeks. The bat clattered to the floor. Amber lifted his chin until their eyes met.
The air in the shed froze. Her breath came out like smoke. Her body shifted, her hair becoming polished blond, her shirt unbuttoning just a few buttons more, a cross necklace appearing on her breasts.
“Tiffany?” Ryder rasped. “How? What?”
“Touch him again and I’ll make your nightmares last forever.”
Amber placed a palm on Ryder’s chest, and he rocketed from the shed. He landed on the field, thrown so hard by her power he skipped like a stone over a flat lake twenty yards before finally coming to a stop.
As quickly as the power flowing through her came, it vanished. Her body reformed into her own instead of Tiffany’s. Amber buckled, grabbing her stomach as she puked on the shed floor. She gasped, the world spinning, her fingers and toes icy cold, her knees knocking against one another.
She stumbled to the wall and wobbled to her feet. Amber blinked, looking to her friend. “Jason? What…?”
He scrambled from her, palms raised as he slid toward a corner. “Please don’t hurt me. Please!”
“Jason, I….”
“Just don’t hurt me! Please!”
Tears oiled her vision and weighed her lids. One broke free and rolled down her cheek in a hot, slick line. “I’d never hurt you. I….”
Another tear slipped free and rolled to her jaw. It dripped, splashing on her shoe. “I’d never hurt you,” she whimpered.
“Just go!”
Amber sprinted from the shed, falling to the field’s dewy grass. Vomit threatened again, but she swallowed it down. She lurched to her feet, running from the school gr
ounds and toward the safety of the woods.
Her thoughts swam through a soupy fog. She pointed her steps in the direction of home, and sprinted toward it so hard her lungs ached and heart burned when she reached the door. Upstairs, she buried herself in her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the day away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Shadows in the Hall
The creaking woke her first. Amber blinked the sleep and dried tears from her eyes and peeled the covers back. It was late, after midnight according to the alarm clock’s glowing green numbers.
A shiver worked its way up her spine. Nothing should be in the house that could make a creak. She locked the doors when she rushed inside. Didn’t she?
Floorboards groaned as she slid from her bed. The wood chilled her soles, and she grimaced at the shock. Her mother wanted rugs for the room, but for some reason, Amber liked the cold floor. It made drowning in her blankets so much more appealing.
She shivered, thinking she might have left the AC on by accident. “Or I left the door open,” she murmured, searching the floor. Had she? Everything after what happened at school was a blur. Her head throbbed. The memories came to her, but hazy and distant.
No other sounds filtered from downstairs. Amber gathered her courage and straightened, smoothing the goosebumps from her forearms as she treaded toward her door, each footstep groaning as she padded toward the hall.
Little light illuminated the hallway. She prodded the wall with her hand as she walked toward the stairwell. She bumped into the console near the stairs and knocked over a picture, and it shattered when it hit the floor.
Amber cursed and jerked the picture up. Behind the shattered glass, her smiling face stared back, the snow-streaked backdrop of the Alps behind her. Her mother took her on that trip four summers ago. Amber still remembered the Alpine ibexes they photographed for one of her mom’s projects.
She propped the picture back on the console and inched toward the stairwell until her fingers found the railing. Step by step she descended, the lower floor lit by the diluted glow of a bright moon streaming through the many windows dotting the walls in the kitchen and living room.
When she reached the thermostat, Amber punched the temperature button, and the display lit up. She upped the temperature to seventy-five and paused, tapping her finger on the plastic case.
Nothing in her life made sense, and it all started with the nightmare in the graveyard. Had she really moved things without touching them? Did she turn her body to mist and reach inside Ryder’s mind?
I literally transformed into Tiffany Holt, she thought.
The backdoor in the kitchen groaned as it opened, shattering Amber’s quiet contemplation. Her heart shot into her throat. She pressed her back against the wall, eyes wide and bright as slick china. Maybe her mom had flown home early. Maybe Chris decided to surprise her. Maybe Jason or Ms. Flannery wanted to check to see if she was okay.
The person in the kitchen could be any of them. Footsteps clicked on tile, slow, steady, and drawing nearer.
Shit. Amber closed her eyes and forced the lump down her throat. She opened her eyes. There was a mirror on the wall ahead. Look in it at the right angle, and she could see into the kitchen, catch a glimpse and pray to God she knew this person.
Her back pressed against the wall, she inched toward the mirror. Its gold frame glimmered in the low light.
Just a little closer, and she would see into the kitchen. Another step clicked on the tile. There was a long pause. Sweat beaded on her palms. Her heartbeat pummeled her ribs.
Amber bit her lip and slid an inch along the wall. The kitchen appeared in the reflection. A man stood in the doorway where the tile met the floorboards. He wore a black suit, perfectly pressed, with a thin black tie and pale leather gloves. He gripped a cane, polished black as his spotless oxfords. A mask shaped like an expressionless skull hid his face, and from behind it his unblinking blue eyes locked with hers.
Amber’s muscles froze. She opened her mouth in a scream that wouldn’t come. Her fingernails dug against the wall. One nail broke, a flash of fire lancing up her hand. The masked man cocked his head like a curious puppy. He squeezed his cane.
No matter how hard she tried to move, her feet stayed glued to the floor, even as he slowly approached her. Amber felt a gentle force caress her jaw. Something like breath tickled her neck and whispered in her ear.
He took another step. Only a few feet remained between her and this masked thing of the stuff of nightmares. Ice crystallized over the mirror, and her breaths came out in steamy puffs. Sweat beaded on her temples as her mind cried out, her eyes still imprisoned by his.
Should he lift his cane, he would touch her with it. His breath sighed behind his mask, and she heard it. Amber wept, a tear dripping from her jaw and soaking her shirt.
Not like this, she thought. Not. Like. This!
A force flared from within her and smashed against the man. He flew backwards into the kitchen, crashing over the island before smashing into the door.
Amber gasped and doubled over as the force keeping her still uncoiled. Her heart felt like she had hammered a frozen nail through it. Her whole body trembled. She clutched her neck and drew a few ragged breaths.
Every kitchen cabinet crashed open. Windows rattled. Light bulbs buzzed and shattered.
Amber stumbled to her feet, whipping around the corner and bolting across the living room.
“Help!” she screamed. “Help!”
She launched into the foyer and plowed into the front door, yanking the knob, but the deadbolt held it fast.
“Shit! Shit!” Amber sobbed, fumbling with the knob. “Open, dammit. Just open!”
“Come back here!” he wailed, his warbling voice full of fury.
“No,” she sobbed. “Please, God no.”
That same probing force slid across her neck and rolled over an arm.
The lock clicked. Amber cried out, ripping the door open and flying outside. She glanced behind her. The tall, dark silhouette slinked across the living room, brandishing a gleaming blade.
Her hot lungs took in frigid air as she ran down the drive. Her toe caught a root, and she hit the ground.
Rocks cut her palms and knees. Her ankle throbbed. She flipped around and scrambled into the wedge of the great elm’s roots as the masked man strolled onto the yard, swinging his shining blade.
“Go away!” she screamed. “I don’t have anything!”
The stranger paused halfway to her. He raised his weapon and lowered his arm, and the blade remained suspended, slowly rotating like a screw ready to drive into Amber’s ribs. The man pointed toward her, and the wind sighed through rustling leaves, whispering teasing words over and over in her head.
The man flicked his wrist, and the blade shot toward Amber. She tensed, shielding her face.
A moment passed, and nothing impaled her. Amber took a breath and lowered her arms.
Not an inch from her eye, the sword tip trembled violently. Her assailant paused, looking at his hand. He thrust his palm toward her, and while the blade quivered, it didn’t budge.
The wind whipped angrily around her. “What is this?” he demanded. “Move!”
His voice was like glass shattering and nails on a chalkboard. Amber pressed her back against the tree trunk and stared at the blade.
A ghostly hand appeared around the weapon’s grip. The hand grew into an arm, then became a man. He wore a dark leather jacket studded with rings and buttons and a loose hood. The jacket fastened over an untied scarlet scarf, and while both might have been nice once, they were worn so well she wondered if he ever took them off. The wind toyed with his midnight-dark hair while light sparkled in the pools of his eyes. He had a kind of confidence in every minor twitch of muscle or blink of an eye, and had they been passing each other on the street, she would have turned around to get a second look and hoped he did the same.
He yanked the sword aside, ramming its blade into the elm’s thick bark. “Are
you okay?” he asked, glancing down at her with a hot gaze.
Somehow she managed to nod. He grinned, taking her hand. “Good.”
The masked man leapt, rocks flying in his wake.
Amber’s rescuer jerked her into his arms and put his lips beside her ear. “Take a deep breath, and don’t panic,” he whispered.
Their bodies erupted into trails of murky mist as the murderous masked man rocketed right through them. Amber clutched the man’s jacket, the scent of sweat and leather assaulting her nose, the beat of his heart thumping against her cheek. “He’s trying to kill me!”
“If he wanted you dead, he would’ve done it sooner. He was toying with you, playing with you like a cat plays with a mouse. That was his mistake, and my opening.” The man kicked off the ground, and their ethereal bodies whistled through the tree’s leafy branches.
Her house, the drive, the street shrunk beneath them. Amber tightened her grip on his jacket and wrapped her legs around his waist. “What the hell is going on? I can’t do heights. We’re going to fall!”
“Even if we did, so what? If you haven’t noticed, you’re a little less than solid at the moment. So how’d you steal the relic from the palace anyway? You don’t seem so, I don’t know, thiefy. You certainly got under Bone Man’s skin though. Good job on that.”
“Because I’m not a thief! And I’ve never met that psycho before tonight. He broke into my house and … where’re we going?”
“We’ve got to get to safety. You’re coming with me.”
“What? No!”
“No choice, I’m afraid. Believe me when I say the alternative’s much, much worse.”
They reached the peak of their jump and careened toward Ms. Flannery’s home. He tightened his arm around her waist and took a deep breath of her hair. “That’s weird. You’re alive. How’d you get a curse? You got a relic?”
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not cursed, and I’m not some thief. Please, just let me down at the nearest police station. I can show you right where it is.”
Afterlife (Second Eden #1) Page 12
