My Soul to Keep

by Rachel Vincent

  Mrs. Knott frowned and cleared her throat, and Emma avoided her eyes as she flipped open her test. But as soon as the teacher turned away, Em kicked my chair softly to regain my attention. “I’m really worried about Doug,” she whispered. “He didn’t show up for his English midterm this morning.” Ever since Scott’s freakout at school, she’d been watching Doug closely for signs that he was headed down the same path. “He’s hardly eating anything. And this is going to sound stupid, but his hands are always cold.”

  I tried to smile and calm her down. She couldn’t help him, so worrying would do her no good. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything, Em. Nash’s hands are usually freezing, and he’s…”

  No. I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly. It was a coincidence. Nash wasn’t using. He was helping me get rid of frost for good. He knew how dangerous it was, and he was just as repulsed by the thought of sucking hellion breath as I was.

  But Doug was using, and it would kill him.

  I hadn’t told Emma the truth about the Demon’s Breath, even after what happened with Scott, because Dad and Harmony agreed that the less she knew, the safer she’d be from Everett and his Netherworld supplier. But watching her now, forehead wrinkled in concern for the first high school guy she’d shown any interest in, I couldn’t help thinking that Dad and Harmony were wrong this time.

  I knew better than most that ignorance was neither blissful nor safe, and it didn’t seem fair to put Emma through what I’d suffered. Especially considering that Scott had turned out to be dangerous on Demon’s Breath.

  What if Doug did, too?

  “Em, I need to tell you something.” Her brows rose, and she nodded, but then Mrs. Knott walked down the aisle between us and I’d lost my chance to speak. The test had begun. “After class,” I mouthed, then turned my attention to my midterm.

  Unfortunately, Doug was waiting for Emma after class, and she waved to me apologetically as she wrapped one arm around his waist, promising she’d catch me at lunch.

  At first, I was surprised that Doug hadn’t asked me what happened to Scott. Until I noticed the half-eaten candy bar in his fist as they walked off. He held it without the wrapper, and despite his tight grip, the chocolate wasn’t melting against his skin. He was frosted, and probably not thinking about anything but staying that way.

  Tod’s hospital shift started at noon, so I’d fully expected him to pop into class during one of my early midterms, demanding to know what he’d missed when I couldn’t possibly answer him. But I didn’t see him all morning, and I couldn’t help wondering why he was never around during his off hours, but would skip out on work to come bug me and Nash.

  By eleven-thirty, my morning overdose of caffeine had worn off and I wobbled on my feet, flinching when I caught myself against the wall with my bad arm. I’d survived my first three midterms—though I couldn’t swear I’d aced them—and had three still to go. But after only twelve hours of sleep over the past three days, I could barely spell my name right, and passing the remaining tests seemed like a long shot, at best.

  So during lunch, Nash and I snuck out of the cafeteria and into the parking lot, where I slept in the reclined seat of my rental car while he devoured a cafeteria cheeseburger and crammed for his physics test, ready to wake me if I so much as hummed in my sleep.

  I jolted awake thirty-eight minutes into our forty-five-minute lunch period, sitting straight up in the driver’s seat with Nash staring at me like I’d just recited the U.S. presidents in my sleep. An ability which probably would have come in handy during my history test.

  “What happened?” I blinked, confused, until I remembered I was still at school, in a car I hadn’t completely gotten used to yet. Was that why I felt so…disoriented? But exhaustion couldn’t explain why I’d evidently sat up in my sleep.

  Nash’s eyes churned steadily with fear and with some emotion I couldn’t quite identify, and as I watched, his irises began to settle as he got a handle on the scare I’d obviously given him. “You were making weird noises. So I woke you up.”

  I was? I didn’t remember having any dreams at all, much less the horrifying, recurring death dream. But something had obviously happened, and it had clearly scared the crap out of Nash.

  In spite of my rude—and odd—awakening, the short nap helped more than I’d thought possible. Or maybe that was the Mountain Dew Nash handed me as we walked back into the building, just in time for fifth period. “Drink fast and work hard,” he said, giving me the sweetest, peppermint-scented kiss on the nose. “I’ll see you in the gym after school.”

  He was trying really hard to make up for our fight the day before, and the caffeine fix was good for several bonus points.

  But by the time the final bell rang, the Mountain Dew was wearing off and my arm was really starting to throb. I couldn’t stand the thought of spending my Friday afternoon painting booths for my cousin’s pet project—left-handed, thanks to my injury—while her friends stared and whispered. If Sophie was skipping, we could, too. So I drove Nash home and crashed on his bed while he played Xbox.

  Nash shook me awake a couple of hours later, with hands so cold I could feel them through my shirt. I was relieved to discover that I had neither dreamed nor struck any odd positions in my sleep. “You have to get up if we’re going to make it to the party,” he whispered, soft, warm lips brushing my cheek.

  The setting sun cast slanted shadow bars across Nash’s room through his half-closed blinds, and I blinked in the crimson glare, trying to fully wake up. The alarm clock on his bedside table said it was almost five-thirty. “Mmmm…” He smelled so good I wanted to bury my face in his shirt and breathe him in. Then go back to sleep.

  Who needs food and water? Nash and slumber would be enough to sustain me. Right?

  “What party?” I mumbled, pushing myself up on my good arm, in spite of the heavy hand of sleep threatening to pull me back under.

  “Fuller’s. Remember? We were going to find Everett?”

  And that’s when reality came crashing in on me, washing away the serenity that waking up next to Nash had lent me.

  Doug’s party. Everett’s balloons. Scott’s knife. My sliced-up arm. Suddenly my head hurt and my stomach was churning in dread.

  “I can’t believe he’s still throwing a party, with one of his best friends in the hospital.” And charged with a felony.

  Nash shrugged. “The crowd will be bigger than ever tonight, everyone hoping to hear what really happened to Carter.”

  Well, they wouldn’t hear it from me. “My dad’ll kill me if we go to Doug’s.” Not that my father’s caution had ever stopped me from helping a friend in need before.

  Nash rolled his eyes and pressed the power button on his Xbox, then shoved it against the scratched chest of drawers his television sat on. “If we don’t go, who’s going to watch out for Emma?”

  “Tod…?” I started, but the flaw in that plan was immediately obvious. “Well, I assume he has to actually show up for work at some point.”

  “Let’s hope.” Nash hesitated as I ran my fingers through long, sleep-tangled hair. “Maybe you can talk her out of going…” he finally suggested. “You two could do something girlie tonight and let me handle Everett.”

  I shook my head as I stepped into my first sneaker. “I already tried that. After what happened with Scott, she’s determined to keep an eye on Doug.” I had to sit on the bed to tug the second shoe on, then I met Nash’s frustrated gaze with one of my own.

  Nash sighed and sat on the edge of his desk, and I sat straighter as a new thought occurred to me. “Maybe we’re making this too hard. Why don’t we just get him alone at the party, cross over with him, and leave him in the Netherworld?” Which was a virtual death sentence—or worse—for anyone native to the human world. Yet I felt only a fleeting pang of guilt over that thought, after what Everett’s little enterprise had done to Scott, and would do to anyone else who sampled his stash. “I mean, he can’t sell in our world if he can’t get to our world.
Right?”

  His brows rose. “You think he can’t cross on his own? If that’s true, how is he getting Demon’s Breath in the first place?”

  Crap. My disappointment crested in a wave of embarrassment.

  Either Everett could cross over on his own—which meant he couldn’t be trapped in the Netherworld—or he was working with someone who could. In which case getting rid of Everett wouldn’t stop the distribution of frost into our world.

  I grabbed my backpack from the floor and tossed it over one shoulder, squinting against the reddish light peeking through the blinds. “Nash, we have to tell my dad about Everett.”

  Nash rolled his eyes. “What’s your dad going to do that we can’t? Other than make sure we’re never welcome at another party…”

  “I don’t know. But what are we supposed to do? Threaten to scream until Everett’s ears bleed?”

  Nash sighed and grabbed my keys from the desktop, where I’d dropped them when we came in. “Look, if your dad busts up the party, Fuller will wind up hanging out alone with Emma all night. Either high off his new stash, or crazy from withdrawal.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. I swear I heard it splash into the Mountain Dew I drank instead of eating lunch.

  He was right. My dad could break up the party and possibly even stop Everett from selling to everyone there. At least for one night. But he couldn’t save Emma from Doug once they were alone.

  That was up to me.

  We went to my house first, so I could change and pack an overnight bag. On the way out, I left a note for my dad on the fridge, telling him I was going out with Nash and that I’d be spending the night with Emma—so she wouldn’t have a chance to be alone with Doug—and that he was welcome to call and check up on me. It’s not like I’d be sleeping. Ever again, evidently.

  Then, because I knew he couldn’t answer his cell at work, I called and left a voice mail saying the same thing. He was working late again, to make up for the pay he’d lost the day before thanks to my trip to the hospital, and with any luck he wouldn’t get either message until his double shift was over. Around midnight. By which time I hoped to be stretched out on Emma’s bedroom floor, halfway through a pint of Death by Chocolate and a B-grade ’80s horror flick, safe from the perils of the real world.

  Make that both worlds.

  EMMA’S AFTERNOON SHIFT at the Cinemark didn’t end until seven, so she couldn’t make it to the party until eight. Nash and I stopped for cheap tacos and still got there by seven-thirty.

  Mr. Fuller had taken Doug’s twenty-eight-year-old stepmother with him to some professional conference in New York, leaving Doug alone in a house big enough to sleep the whole football team.

  Or host the entire senior class.

  We parked at the end of the street again, and I felt marginally more confident in the safety of my car this time, because it wasn’t really mine and because Doug wouldn’t be driving. He was already home.

  The party was in full swing long before we got there—music blasting, drinks flowing, people dancing, and couples ducking out the back door or up the stairs. In the den, a dozen upperclassmen had gathered around two guys with video game controllers, engrossed in some virtual tournament. One room over, two half-dressed couples had found an alternate use for Mr. Fuller’s pool table, and in the kitchen, one of the football team’s managers was manning a keg someone’s big brother had bought.

  I waved to Brant Williams across the living room and he smiled back, dark, friendly eyes shining at me over the heads of most of our classmates. As Nash pulled me through the crowd, I spared a moment to hope Brant miraculously decided he needed to be somewhere else before Everett showed up.

  People everywhere shouted greetings to Nash, and more than a few of them looked surprised to find me with him. Evidently seeing us together discredited the worst of the rumors about me and Scott. Several guys asked Nash how Scott was doing, and he told them all he hadn’t heard anything since yesterday.

  He’d called the hospital that afternoon, but they would only release information to family members. We were hoping Tod could give us an update, but neither of us had seen him since he’d disappeared from my living room the afternoon before.

  Sophie was a no-show at the party. While I was glad she was staying out of trouble—and out of my way—I was starting to wonder if she’d even show up for the carnival she’d helped organize. I considered calling her, but she wouldn’t answer her phone if it showed my number, so I decided to check in with her dad in the morning. Uncle Brendon knew what was going on—much more than Sophie knew, anyway—and had no doubt taken the Netherworld element into consideration when he let her skip school.

  I almost felt sorry for her.

  We found Doug near the back of the living room, pouring something stronger than beer into a clear plastic cup of soda. “Hey, man, is Em with you?” He handed Nash a can of Coke from a cooler sitting on a thick rug thrown over the hardwood floor.

  “She’ll be here around eight,” I said as Doug rooted through the cooler again. He came up with a Diet Coke and a regular, holding them both up for me to choose from. I pointed to the regular, and he grinned as he dropped the diet back into the cooler.

  “Atta girl. Want somethin’ extra?” He held up the small bottle of Absolut he’d poured into his own cup.

  “No thanks.” There was no way I’d handicap my logic or coordination with Everett the Netherworld crack dealer scheduled to make an appearance.

  “She has control issues,” Nash said, and I could have kicked him into the next time zone.

  Doug raised one brow at me, then shot Nash a sympathetic look. “Lucky you.”

  “I’m driving,” I insisted, but the damage was already done.

  “Whatever,” Doug said, then something behind me caught his attention and he grinned.

  “Hey, guys!” Emma threw her arm around my waist. She smelled like vanilla and looked like sex poured into a skirt. Her sister’s skirt, if I had to guess.

  “I thought you had to work,” I said as she let Doug pull her close.

  “I got off early.” She stood on her toes to kiss Doug as his hand wandered down from her waist, and I had a moment to hope he hadn’t yet unsealed a fresh balloon before she grinned at me like she’d been huffing goofy gas. But this high was natural. I could tell because, as I watched, Doug’s hand twitched around her hip.

  He hadn’t had his fix yet. Which meant we hadn’t missed our chance.

  “I didn’t think you’d come after yesterday,” Emma said, her smile fading with the memory of what little I’d told her about Scott and his knife.

  Nash popped open his Coke. “She needed a little fun.”

  Emma grinned. “Me, too.”

  “Well, then, start with this.” Doug handed Emma the cup he’d spiked for himself, and she drained half of it in one gulp.

  “Hey, Em, can I crash with you tonight?” I asked, popping the top on my own can.

  “Sure. Your dad being a pain?”

  I shrugged, letting her draw her own conclusions.

  “Hey, Fuller, is your friend here yet?” Nash asked, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly around mine.

  But Doug shook his head. “I wish he’d hurry up.”

  “What friend?” Emma asked, but instead of answering, Doug pushed her cup toward her mouth until she emptied it, then pulled her into the crowd of writhing bodies, already moving to the heavy beat.

  With nothing else to do until Everett showed up, Nash and I joined them on the dance floor and I was just starting to relax when a dark smudge on the edge of my vision seemed to freeze my blood in my veins.

  I went still while all around me bodies moved in time to the song, oblivious to the danger now walking among them. I couldn’t see the door through the crowd, but I couldn’t miss the dark shape hovering near the ceiling—a huge black balloon bouquet, like the centerpiece of an over-the-hill birthday party.

  Everett had arrived. And he’d brought enough frost to bake the
entire senior class.

  14

  “LOOK!” I SHOUTED into Nash’s ear, to be heard over the thumping, blaring music. I clutched his arm, unable to tear my horrified gaze from the balloons floating a couple of feet below Fuller’s twelve-foot ceiling. Before Nash had a chance to focus on the problem, I tugged him toward the edge of the crowd, hoping the noise would abate so we could hear each other.

  And maybe see more than three feet into the crowd.

  Near the edge of the room I let Nash go and nodded toward the foyer, where the bouquet still hovered over the room like a poisonous cloud. What kind of dealer walks right in the front door? But then, I guess it’s hard to be discreet carrying that many balloons.

  “That’s Everett, right?” We couldn’t see him, but who else would bring three dozen black balloons to a high school party?

  Nash looked up. Blood drained from his face so quickly I wasn’t sure how he remained conscious. He nodded slowly and began making his way through the crowd, still clutching my hand. I tried not to step on too many feet or bump into anyone with my bandaged arm as my heart raced fast enough to leave me light-headed. Everett was here. And we still had no plan.

  Nash stopped when we got to the front window and had a clear view into the entryway, and his hand clenched tighter around mine. I followed his swirling gaze to see that the guy holding the balloons wasn’t much older than the crowd—twenty, at the outside—and that he was flanked by two of the most beautiful, eerily flawless girls I’d ever seen.

  Between them, Everett, who looked human, was tall and too thin, his slight build only exaggerated by an oversize T-shirt and jeans that barely hung from the points of his hips. I couldn’t help wondering if he would let go of the balloons to pull his pants up if they fell off, which was a definite possibility. Based on the hazy look in his eyes and his death grip on the collection of strings, I would have bet my life the answer was no.

  Everett wasn’t just selling; he was using. Though I couldn’t imagine how he stayed sane enough to run his business.