B00AO57VOY EBOK Read online

  I turned over, hoping to get a little TLC from Nathan only to find the bed next to me was empty. Pouting, I buried my face in his pillow, inhaling the last traces of his amazing scent that still lingered on the pillowcase.

  How pathetic can I get? I thought, moodily. I’ve been reduced to sniffing pillows.

  Letting go of the pillow, I rolled back over and started looking around the room for something else to focus on besides Nathan and my headache. Nathan’s room faced the backyard, and for a second I just stared out at the watery blue sky and tried not to think. If I didn’t think, my head just might not explode.

  After a few minutes, the pounding eased enough to become bearable. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stretched and tried to enjoy the late morning sunshine flooding the room with a warm, buttery yellow glow.

  Wait. Late morning?

  I was supposed to be at school!

  Kim was going to kill me!

  I jumped out of the bed as if it had suddenly become electrified and began to panic. I was already pulling on the hoodie I always kept at the foot of the bed, fully prepared to go to school in the clothes I had on, when I saw the note stuck under my cell phone next to the bed. I ran over and snatched it up, trying to breathe through my panic.

  Good morning, Baby.

  Take a deep breath and stop hyperventilating. Everything is fine, Ember. Shea called the school and told them you have the flu. That ought to buy you a couple of days. After last night, we agreed you needed to rest. Oh, and she’s still here—somewhere. Why don’t you see if you can get her to make you some of those waffles you love so much? You must be starving.

  I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. If anything goes wrong, call me.

  Love,

  Nate

  I had to read the note three times before the panic trying to suffocate me abated enough for me to understand even the first line. I immediately seized my phone and sent Kim a text. I knew she was waiting for it and sat there, the phone clenched tightly in my fist, waiting for the unpleasant response I was about to get. We hadn’t gone more than a few hours without at least texting since we had gotten our first cell phones. But after our fight, I’d forced myself not to text her. I’d wanted to give her a chance to calm down, but not showing up for school again—especially after my last disappearing act—was only going to make things worse.

  The reply came almost immediately.

  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!?!?! AND DON’T SAY YOU HAVE THE FLU! YOU’VE NEVER HAD THE FLU!

  I smiled. She was right about that much. I really hadn’t ever had the flu, not once, my entire life. I was about to send back a reply when the second message came through.

  COFFEE BEAN. 4:00. I’M GOING TO GET SOME ANSWERS OR YOU ARE GOING TO BE SOOOO SORRY! YOU HAVE SCARED ME TO DEATH FOR THE LAST DAMN TIME EMBER!! I AM SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING BEATING U TO DEATH!!!

  I laughed and shook my head as I sent back the message telling her I would be there. Once that was done, I just sat there and read her messages over again. Sure, she might be pissed at me for lying to her every time I bothered to speak. She might want answers I couldn’t give her. She might even want to kill me for scaring her. But, at the end of the day, she was still there, on my side, worrying about me and loving me just like she always had.

  And, somehow, knowing that made everything better.

  Okay, so things were a little crazy. Things were always a little crazy with me. I mean, think about it. You couldn’t exactly be friends with more dead people than live ones and not have more than your fair share of crazy going on. I was just going to have to find a way to handle one problem at a time.

  I sat there for a minute, making a mental list of the problems in question, putting them in order from what I needed to take care of right that second to what could potentially get me killed.

  First problem: I was starving.

  Thinking I would take Nathan’s advice and sweet talk Grams into making me some waffles, I headed for the door. I was already turning the knob when my brain finally started functioning correctly and I stopped cold. The idea of another wonderful conversation with Grams was enough to set my head to pounding again.

  Those waffles suddenly didn’t seem so appealing.

  I loved my grandmother, and knowing I was disappointing her every time I turned around was painful for me. I just…I didn’t want to be who she thought I should be. I didn’t want to be a blood witch. I wanted to be me, the me I had been before I became the trophy in a game of tug-o-war between Nathan and Demon Jack. But, as much as it irked me to admit it, Grams was right. She’d been bitchy about it, yeah, but she was still right.

  I couldn’t run from who I was anymore. It was time to face it and embrace it.

  “Get out here, Ember,” Grams’ voice called out as if on cue. “There’s no sense hiding. I know you’re up. If you’re not out here in the next five seconds, I am throwing away your breakfast.”

  Steeling myself for the real comfortable conversation to come—you know, the one where I openly admitted I was wrong and she was right and Grams gloated—I cracked the door open and peered around it to determine where she was. I couldn’t see her anywhere, but I could hear the clink of coffee cups and the soft murmur of her voice coming down the hall from the kitchen. I considered ducking into my own room and getting dressed, but then decided that would just be putting off the inevitable.

  Figuring it was better just to get it over with, I forced my feet to move forward. When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, though, I stopped and stared, mouth hanging open, at the woman seated at the table with my grandmother. Sure that I was still asleep and having a nightmare, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Unfortunately, when I opened them she was still there.

  Sitting at the table looking more comfortable than I had ever seen her was the most frightening teacher Oakhurst Academy had ever employed. Her dark, gray-streaked hair was pulled back in a bun so tight that it was stretching her skin in a way that looked sort of painful. Her eyes were permanently narrowed from years of scowling at her students, making it hard to really determine what color they were until you pissed her off. She could strip skin from bone with her slashing emerald green eyes when she was angry—a fact most of her students had learned firsthand. She was dressed in a shapeless gray suit that, I hated to tell her, did nothing for her skeletal figure, combined with one of the ugliest scarves in history in a shade of green that looked suspiciously like something you might find in a baby’s diaper.

  Ms. Cantrell’s lips turned up in a condescending smile when she caught sight of me over Grams’ shoulder. Someday, someone was going to show her that she wasn’t nearly as superior to the rest of the human population as she thought she was. I really hoped I was there when that happened.

  “Good morning, Miss Blaylock,” she said, giving me a critical once over. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t look that impressed with what she was seeing.

  I marched into the kitchen with my head held high, refusing to let the old hag get to me. On the counter sat a plate of waffles and a glass of juice. To keep myself from thinking about what my least favorite teacher was doing drinking coffee with my grandmother, I grabbed the fork on my plate and began to shovel waffles into my mouth.

  “Where’s Nathan?” I asked around my second forkful.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Grams said, automatically. “As for where Nate ran off to this morning, I have no clue. He said something about needing to do some research and left.”

  Research? What on earth could he possibly be researching?

  “My sister, Amelia, tells me you’ve had a very interesting couple of weeks,” Ms. Cantrell said, a tight lipped smile making her look scary rather than reassuring. “I assume that is the reason why you failed to show up for my class this morning? Then, you’ve gotten very good at not showing up, haven’t you, Miss Blaylock? Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still owe me a detention.”

  Oh, shit. I had forgotten all about that detention.
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  “But that so wasn’t my fault!” I squeaked. I swallowed again when her eyes narrowed on mine and then, without thinking, blurted out the truth, “I was kidnapped!”

  Ms. Cantrell gave me a patronizing look and stirred her coffee. “Of course you were.”

  “I was,” I muttered, giving Grams a look that practically demanded she back me up. Grams just smiled and sipped her coffee, though. What. A. Traitor!

  “I believe when one is carried away by their boyfriend, it’s called a lover’s tryst, not kidnapping, Miss Blaylock,” Ms. Cantrell continued, her lips turning up even more when I glared at her.

  After a few seconds of meeting that condescending gaze, I had to turn away. How she could be related to someone as sweet as Mrs. Amelia…

  Wait. She was Mrs. Amelia’s sister?

  Holy hell! She was a witch!

  I didn’t find it all that hard to picture to be honest. If there had ever been anyone in this world who would fit the stereotype of a witch, it was the old hag still smirking at me from across the room. All that was missing was the wart on the end of her nose…and she could have had that removed.

  I listened carefully as the two older women resumed their conversation and got the impression they were planning out a guard detail. A guard detail for me. I had to go back to school, after all, a dangerous undertaking with Jack lurking around waiting for a chance to pounce.

  When Ms. Cantrell said she would let the others know what their duties were, I was genuinely curious. I mean, how many witches could there be at Oakhurst Academy?

  “Well, Miss Blaylock,” Ms. Cantrell said, getting to her feet once the arrangements to have me guarded day and night had been finalized. “In light of recent events, I am willing to overlook your absence today. In fact, I’ll even forget about the detention you skipped. Instead, I would like you to write me a three page essay on supernatural beings in literature.”

  She paused as the door opened and Nathan walked in. He stopped and they glared each other briefly before he shrugged and walked over to sit next to me at the counter. Her eyes narrowed so much they were practically closed when he tugged my stool flush against his and pulled me back against him.

  “Given the company you keep, I suggest you start with Bram Stoker’s Dracula,” she said, smirking nastily at Nathan as he tensed. “I believe you might find some very useful information there. Did you know Stoker truly was a vampire hunter, Miss Blaylock?”

  “It’s been a pleasure, as always, Constance,” Nathan said. “Feel free to come by and bathe us in your warm glow again soon.”

  I didn’t have to turn around to see his sneer of dislike. It was pretty obvious in that delicious voice. I wondered for a second who he was talking to and then stared at Ms. Cantrell in surprise. Strange as it might sound, I had never thought of her actually having a first name.

  “Excuse me?” she snapped.

  “Loose translation? Get out,” Nathan told her simply, unwrapping one of his arms from around me to gesture toward the door he’d just come through.

  With a hiss of insulted outrage, she drew herself up to her full height, and I waited for her to breathe fire and barbeque us all. Then Grams patted her arm and Ms. Cantrell seemed to remember she and Nathan were on the same side. With a look that should have killed Nathan on the spot, she turned toward the door without another word.

  “Did you feel that?” Nathan asked, pretending to shudder as she left. “I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now.”

  “Must you antagonize her, Nate?” Grams asked, giving him a stern look as she came to take my empty plate and glass and load them into the dishwasher. “She has good reason for her mistrust of vampires, you know.”

  “She started it with that Dracula crack,” he said, giving me a little squeeze when I giggled. “She’s evil, Shea. Not the dark underworld variety maybe, but evil nonetheless. Then, she might be a bit more pleasant if she’d pull that broomstick out of her…”

  His voice trailed off when Grams shot him a look that practically dared him to finish that sentence and I giggled again. I settled back against him, breathing in the scent of him and feeling the leashed strength in the arms around me.

  “Where did you run off to this morning?” I asked him when Grams turned around to wipe off the countertops.

  “I went to check out the O’Connell family,” he told me with a shrug, twirling one of my curls around his finger like he was distracted.

  “Did you find out anything?” Grams asked as she scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot of waffle batter on the counter.

  “I couldn’t get a thing off any of them that would lead me to believe they know where their darling little boy is,” he said, shrugging. “He picked the perfect host. I actually kind of feel sorry for the poor kid he’s using. The reward they’re offering for information aside, they don’t seem all that upset that he’s ‘missing’. He’s kind of low on their priority list.”

  I know the feeling, I thought sadly, burrowing further into the strong arms around me. I’d never been all that high on my parents’ priority list, either. Nathan leaned down and kissed the side of my neck, tightening his hold a little, and I quickly changed the subject to something less painful for me.

  “How did he get back from the lost plane, anyway?” I asked. Grams reaction surprised me. Her back went ramrod straight and she slowly turned to look at me. There was something in her eyes that I didn’t like at all, and I felt a chill slip down my spine when she finally spoke.

  “Someone summoned him back,” she said coldly, flicking a look at Nathan. “I’m not sure who would have been so foolish to do such a thing, knowing his reappearance would guarantee mine, but I intend to find out. And when I do…”

  I was glad when she didn’t finish that sentence. On the surface, Grams looked sweet and gentle, just like your ideal grandmother. But when she was angry, she changed. She became…colder. There was something about her in those moments that was absolutely terrifying. Seeing that coldness in her, I suddenly understood her little fairy tale from the night before about the viciousness of blood witches when you pissed them off.

  Whoever had summoned Jack back from the lost plane was in deep shit.

  I stayed where I was for as long as I could, just enjoying being close to Nathan and Grams, my rocks in the storm that was my life. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought everything was perfectly normal as we sat there talking about our plans for the day and Grams cleaned the kitchen around us. It was nice and made me feel like the world wasn’t so crazy.

  I should have known it wouldn’t last.

  The second Grams finished straightening the room around us, she took a stool across from me at the island and gave me a piercing look over the rim of her coffee mug. “Now, sweetheart, I want you to tell me what happened last night.”

  “Nathan already told you,” I muttered, wishing I’d escaped to the solitude of a hot shower when I’d had the chance.

  “Yes, and it was Nathan’s description of last night’s exciting events that bothers me,” she said softly, giving me a troubled look.

  “What happened to you in that morgue?” Nathan asked gently, holding me closer when I started to tense up. “I’ve never seen anything like that, Em. You were gone. Your body was there, but you weren’t in it. I couldn’t even sense you anymore and you were standing right next to me.”

  “I don’t really know what happened,” I told them honestly, talking to my hands where they rested on the counter in front of me. “Casey had already crossed over to the other side, but there was another ghost there. She showed me what to do.”

  “I don’t understand,” Grams said with a frown. “How could she show you what to do, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her, shrugging. “She was…different. I can’t explain it, but she wasn’t like any of the other ghosts I’ve seen.”

  Grams and Nathan exchanged a worried look. “And what did you see when you followed this spirit’s instructions?”

&nbs
p; “I saw the last few minutes of Casey’s life,” I whispered, forcing my eyes back up to Grams’ face. When she sucked in a sharp breath, I wondered if I looked as miserable as I felt. For someone who’d been communing with the dead her entire life, I’d never felt more haunted. “I was there with her when she died. I was standing right next to her. And I know this sounds crazy, but I think she saw me.”

  “Why do you think that, sweetheart?” Grams asked quietly, reaching for my hand.

  “Because she looked right at me. She talked to me.”

  I could tell by the look she exchanged with Nathan that Grams was trying to not ask, but I knew she wasn’t going to make it. Sure enough, less than a second later she whispered, “What did she say, sweetheart?”

  “She told me to run,” I whispered, starting to cry. “She looked at me and told me to run. She died in my place and she was trying to save me. He was carving her up like a damn jack-o-lantern and she tried to save me!”

  By the time I finished talking, the tears had turned to sobs and my whisper had turned into a howl of misery and rage. I was just so damned mad. I was mad at myself for not finishing Jack when I had the chance. I was mad at Casey for trying to save me when I didn’t deserve it. And I was furious with Jack, my Jack, for letting himself be possessed by a demon in the first damned place!

  But my real rage directed toward the demon himself. How many more ways would he find to torment me? How many more scars would he leave behind on my heart and soul before he was done with me?

  “Do you remember what the carving looked like, sweetheart?” Grams asked when I started to calm down. The way her face had paled told me that I’d just given her an important clue.

  “I don’t have to remember,” I told her, feeling even more ashamed of myself. “I took a picture with my phone before we…um…” I shot a wary look at Nathan, wondering if bringing up our game of hide and seek was a good idea. “Before the police arrived,” I finished weakly.

  “May I see?” Grams asked, the tense tone of her voice a perfect complement to her pale, strained expression.