chapter 9
All Hallows Evil
Laken
Once I hit my old room, I’m more than a little thankful there’s no sign of Hattie Tobias. The results have me completely confused. And, God knows, I’ve no intention to speak to Jones or Wes again tonight. It took all of my non-acting skills to pretend to cozy up with my creepy uncle even if he does come off as a sweet paternal figure on occasion. Speaking of paternal, what was with that, my children crack? Either he’s gone off script or is experiencing an early bout of dementia—to be honest, I really don’t care.
A soft whimper vibrates through the air.
My hair stands on end, my skin enlivens with a shrill panic.
I brace myself, in the event the haunted Tobias circus is about to pop into town. I only have a few more days to find the rest of their demonic clan before their offer to get us into the tunnels is null and void.
I pluck the phone from my pocket and send a text to Coop.
R U OK? I’m so sorry I didn’t go with you! If Wes weren’t there, I would have fought my way into that ambulance.
He texts back. Already home. Just a few stitches. Marky says hello. She wishes you were here.
I wish I were there, too.
A sniffling sound emits from the closet.
Do mice sniffle? I seriously doubt Ephemeral has an infestation, or at least not a common blight of the vermin variety.
I make my way over, soft-footed, and pull back the door. The light pours in revealing Hattie the Human curled in a fetal position bawling her hollow eyes out.
“Hey,” I say it sweetly, heading in and plucking her to her feet. I lead Hattie to her bed and offer a box of tissues.
Now that I know she’s only slightly mutated in nature, I’m far less afraid of her.
“What’s going on?” I rub my hand over her back and startle when I realize I can trace out every vertebra running up her spine.
“Flynn is gone.” Her large eyes spray out in a network of crimson veins. “I’m going to get in trouble.” Her lower lip trembles as if she were shivering. I hadn’t noticed how beautiful Hattie was until now with her full lips, her high cut cheeks with a natural rosy glow.
She brings her hands to her nose, and I can’t help but note her alarmingly frail limbs. I hadn’t noticed her thin frame before. She’s been bundled in layers of sweaters and coats since she’s arrived.
“Why would you get in trouble?” I want to add, and why are you so damn thin but let it go for now. Amber Garrett, my best friend back in Cider Plains was skinny as a rail, with no butt or boobs on the hormonal horizon. She could eat a box of donuts during every meal and have nothing to show for it. So I decide to take it in stride for now.
She swallows hard and shakes her head as if she’s said too much already.
A mean shudder races through me, and this time it’s all for Flynn.
“When was the last time you saw him?” I ask, carefully slipping my hand over the exposed flesh of her arm, playing it off as if I were still trying to comfort her.
She squints into me and slides a good foot away.
She knows—she’s a Celestra after all.
“He said he found them and that he would bring me roses.”
“Flynn found your family?” I’m not sure how much of this I believe. She’s still not the Hattie Tobias I thought she was.
She nods. “He kissed me.” Her fingers tremble over her lips as if reliving the memory.
Stupid, stupid Flynn. I knew I should have kept a sexual leash on him. Who knew he was into Fems? Or at least that’s what we believed she was at the time.
“Hattie…” I swallow hard. “I know who you are.” I say it as a fact.
“You do?” Her brows pitch.
I so caught her. She’s not even trying to deny it.
“Yes. I had your DNA tested. I know damn well you’re a full-blooded Celestra.” I want to know more—everything, but I leave that part out.
Her face loses its affect. All of the fear and worry dissipate, and she lets out an eerie looking grimace.
“Look.” She points to her ridiculous expression. “I’m practicing.” She lets out a congested laugh.
“Practicing what?” I reach for my phone in the event I need to bullet out of here.
“Smiling.” She dulls out again. “Flynn taught me all sorts of things. I can wrap my arms around you for a very long time, but Flynn said not to do that to other people. He asked me to save all my hugs for him.”
“Hattie?” I scoot back on the bed as a morbid realization sets in. Her skinny body, her flat personality—she does remind me of the Tobias sisters. In fact, she sort of reminds me of how they looked in captivity. “Where are you from? Where did you live before you came to Ephemeral?”
“In the tower.” She says it plain as water, as if she hadn’t just made a reference to some medieval form of captivity.
“Was the tower in Trinity County?” Somehow I think the process of elimination is necessary.
She gazes off with a lost expression—her eyes, blank as a doll.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I only knew homely rooms, food once a day. But in this world…” she shakes her head. “Everything imaginable is at your disposal.” It escapes her lips with breathless wonder. “And you have no pain.” She touches her chest just shy of her neck.
“Oh my, God.” I heave the words out as if I had just stumbled upon a map to the den of terror itself. “Do you know how to get back there? To the tower?”
“I won’t go. Please don’t let them take me.”
“Who are they?”
Her entire body seizes, her eyes widen as if she said too much already.
“I’m very tired, Laken.” She crawls under the covers and cocoons herself against the wall. “Please, turn off the light.”
“Sure,” it bleeds from me almost inaudible.
My heart beats erratic as my entire body breaks out in an ice cold sweat. I have a feeling whoever they are, is far more important than I think. After all, they went through the trouble of extracting a Celestra fresh from the tunnels and depositing her directly into my room.
But why in God’s name?
Why?
Whatever the answer is, I’m sure I won’t like it.
The morning of Halloween, Hattie and I stroll down to the dining hall together. I’ve taken her under my wing these past few days for many reasons but the first is to build a friendship, and it hasn’t been hard at all because she’s so darn sweet.
Jen is seated all by her lonesome, texting away as if her life depended on it, but I bypass her and head over to Carter and Fallon.
“If we went to a normal school”—Fallon takes a bite of her apple—“they’d let us wear whatever the hell we wanted today.”
“Ephemeral is anything but normal,” I say it low in the event someone gets slayed by a serious bout of school spirit and decides to rip me a new one. In fact, if you want to get technical, it’s all Halloween, all the time.” I blink a smile over at Hattie. We had a long talk about Halloween and how freaky it can, and undoubtedly will, be. She promised not to rat me out to her “elders” if I promised to show her a good time like Flynn was busy doing before he turned into a Spectator snack—God, I hope that’s not true.
“So”—I lean in—“what’s on tap for tonight? Freaky, slutty, or both?”
Carter sits up. “I’m going to be Cleopatra, and Fletch is going to be Marc Antony.” She leans in and laughs as though it were absurd.
It’s totally absurd considering the Fletch I know and love would rather jab his eye out with a kitchen knife than don any ridiculous costume—let alone a theme costume that might require a toga and sandals on his part.
“I’m a witch.” Fallon cuts me a dirty look like maybe she really is, so I don’t push her on the subject. I know for a fact she’s a “Treasure” which qualifies you as a Count by proxy, so all other spiritual misgivings are more or less unimportant to me at the moment.
“How about you guys?” Carter plucks at her long curls while trying to detangle a knot with her fingers.
“We’re going to be cheerleaders.” Hattie informs them. She’s got a bad habit of over annunciating her words, which I’m trying to break her of. It just doesn’t sound natural. Everything sounds forced as if she’s a robot, reading from a script.
“That’s lame.” Fallon nods casually as if it weren’t meant as a dig at all. “I mean Laken is a cheerleader, so it’s not that far a stretch.”
“They’re probably adding blood and shit,” Carter interjects with her gruesome defense. “You know, like a cheerleader who just got run over.” She nods into her grizzly line of thinking.
“No.” Hattie objects to Carter’s macabre rendition of our not so haunted couture. “We’re going to be pretty. I’m going to wear my hair in pigtails and wear red lipstick and everything. But I won’t wear a bra. I don’t like them. I don’t like underwear either.”
Crap. It’s spontaneous admissions like these that are going to land her a bed in the Flanders home for the undergarment challenged where I’m sure they have a “no bra, no underwear required” policy.
Fallon and Carter watch her in stunned silence before breaking out in a fit of hysterics.
“Did I say something funny?” Hattie asks, alarmed by their reaction.
Before I can answer, a dark presence—otherwise known as Kresley and Grayson appears. They choke us out with their thick scented perfumes, honey and spice and everything not nice. I swear they create their own brand of mustard gas, simply by standing in the same room.
“What’s got everyone in stitches?” Kres juts her neck out like a chicken.
“We were just talking about tonight.” Carter dabs the tears from the corner of her eyes. “What we are and aren’t wearing.”
“Oh?” Kres leans in as if she were about to lacerate me and was debating where to start first. Her dark hair gleams as it swoops neatly down the side of her face. Her eyes percolate as if a storm were brewing in each one. “It looks like one of you is in costume already,” she purrs. “You’re a slut, right, Laken?”
“I thought she was the village idiot.” Grayson spears me with her impotent remark.
I find it ironic that both Kres and Grayson accused me of being the very things they are—morons.
“Or maybe she’s both?” Kres and Grayson break out in cackles, proud of their standard-issue insults. Although I’ll have to give them credit, their two combined brain cells did have the ability to flush out bargain-basement mockery—whereas my superior intellect, albeit slow, failed to report for duty in the comeback department. Per usual.
Nevertheless, they can go screw themselves and they might just have to because I successfully managed to highjack both their boyfriends.
Ha! That’s the comeback! I can totally feel the inter-synaptic high-fives taking place in my brain.
They scuttle off as both Fallon and Carter offer me a silent condolence.
“Why do you let them talk to you that way?” Hattie shoots them a look that spells out die bitches more than words could ever do.
“Don’t listen to them.” Carter jumps in. “Just because you’re into two guys doesn’t make you a slut, and we don’t even live in a village.”
My mouth gapes open and I just stare at her a moment. It’s becoming, more and more, obvious each day why Carter would be a perfect life-mate for Fletch.
“You’re right,” I say, glancing over at Kres as she shoots me the middle finger. “Although it doesn’t change the fact I wish they’d both disappear from the planet. I swear, it would be doing all of humanity a favor.”
Hattie settles her black eyes over the two of them and gives a silent nod.
“All of humanity,” she whispers.
Cooper
Before I met Laken, I don’t ever remember being so punctual to class. She’s reverted me from an impressive tardy streak to the owner of a nearly perfect attendance record. Hell, I’d do both my homework and hers—write every report for her for the rest of her scholastic career if she wanted me to. I’d rewrite the history of the world in a monolithic manifesto if it pleased her.
The bell drills through the hum of voices and still no Laken. Edinger strides into the room, and for a moment my stomach seizes at the thought of Laken being a no-show, but she breezes in on his heels with Hattie, her newfound appendage, in tow.
Hattie takes her seat safely tucked across the room, which affords Laken and me a tiny window to communicate. Ever since the sleepovers ended, it’s been touch and go. Laken’s worried to say too much through texts or even over the phone, so this is it.
Laken wraps her ankle over mine. I’ve resorted to wearing socks that barely crest the top of my sneakers allowing for some skin on skin.
I lie my backpack down, and she does the same, creating a barrier for our intimate display.
Anything new? I ask, drinking down her warm skin against mine. Laken feels like heaven. I’d pay in limbs to have her lay over me with that body.
Hattie is psyched about tonight. She rubs her leg over mine in one long stroke that makes me sit up and take a deep breath. And exactly what limbs are you willing to give up? She teases.
I turn my head just slightly. Every single one.
She gives a little laugh. I would hate to see you sacrifice on such a permanent level. How about you save that rock hard body, and we see what happens after we get our families back. It comes from her soft—almost embarrassed she even went there.
The only thing I want after we get our families back is to see you happy—however that may be. I swallow hard, trying to put up a mental barrier long enough to wonder if what I just said was the truth. What about you? I ask, getting the conversation back on track. Are you psyched about tonight? Tonight is the night of Wesley’s big surprise. Laken seems to think they’re going all the way—as in the tunnels.
Yes, I’m excited. I’m thrilled to think I might see my sister and my mom—maybe yours, too. Anything’s possible, right?
I don’t doubt it. A horrible feeling comes over me at the thought of Wes taking her down to that den of horror. I’d do anything to go with you—to protect you from it all.
I know you would, Coop. She rides her bare foot up my pant leg, and I electrify from her touch. Don’t worry. I can handle whatever’s down there. I kicked Asterion’s ass remember? And we’re going to kick the Counts’ asses, too. We’re a team Coop—you and me.
Makes me wonder where Wes fits in all this.
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Flanders?” Edinger’s voice comes through in perfect clarity, and I expand my chest as if I’ve been paying attention the entire time.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I say, trying to save face.
A round of titters circles the room.
Edinger gives a mock bow. “So you agree that the government would be better off if it were run by one drunken farmer rather than a band of power hungry pigs.”
Shit.
“Right, I mean no. I don’t know which one would work best. I guess it would be like choosing the lesser of two evils.”
Laken warms my ankle once again. What are you wearing tonight?
What would you like me to wear? If she says “nothing,” I might be tempted to comply.
I heard that, and you know it.
“The lesser of two evils?” Edinger nods into my conclusion. “Indeed. Sometimes, Mr. Flanders, there is no other way.”
I’m going to be a cheerleader. She goes on. Original, right? Maybe you should be a football player, and we could have secret themed costumes like Marc Antony and Cleopatra.
I like the idea of having a secret with Laken—something private just between the two of us. Sort of like my bed was for a while.
By the way, my mattress misses you, I say. And, yeah, I’ll be your football player.
Wes can be the ball. I’ll be sure to throw him into the bushes and lose him. Maybe Asterion can wake up and find him.
Cool it, Flanders. Wes happens to be the only portal we have to help our families. Besides, the longer we screw around with getting me inside those tunnels, the longer I’ll be away from your mattress. She rakes her leg over mine like a firebrand before disconnecting.
The idea of Laken wanting to be on my mattress sets my entire body blazing with heat.
Edinger drones on for the next hour regarding power and the common man, how dangerous it is when it falls in the wrong hands—but I keep reverting back to my mattress, and Laken lying over it with nothing but a smile. Laken already has all the power she needs over me, and I can’t wait until she uses—abuses it.
The bell rings, and we rise trying to shake off the mind-numbing boredom we were just subjected to. Laken stretches her limbs as if she had hibernated for years.
“You coming to the party tonight?” She bites her lip, still blushing from the memory of my bed—or at least I hope.
“I don’t know. It’s at Henderson, right? About ten?”
“Yes.” Laken presses her lips together until they’re paper white. “Please come. I’m terrified of wherever the hell he’s taking me, and I’ll feel better just knowing I can see you before and after.”
“I’m taking Marky trick-or-treating.” I strum my fingers along the desk. Marky begged me to ask her to come with us. Marky said she’d die if Laken didn’t help her get ready tonight, but I can’t stand the thought of sucking Laken into my family if she doesn’t want to be there.
“And you think you’re doing this without me?” Her mouth opens, and her pink tongue glistens in the light. It makes me want to cover her lips with mine and dive into that precious window.
“Marky was hoping you’d say that.” My entire body sags with relief.
“And what about you?” She takes a step in until our shoulders touch. Her lids hang low and seductive. Laken has the hottest damn bedroom eyes I have ever seen. “Were you hoping I’d say that? Do you want me there, Coop?”
Her breath rakes against my chin, hot and searing like a nuclear blast.
“I want you with me every second of the day, Laken. And then that will never be enough.”
A loud bang emits from the front as Edinger slaps a stack of papers over his desk.
“Pardon me,” he growls with a manufactured grin. “May I speak with you alone a moment, Mr. Flanders?”
Laken makes a face before turning to me. “I’ll be at your truck right after practice.” She takes off and leaves the two of us in the room alone.
“What’s up?” I make my way over to the demonic Fem donning his human costume.
He steps forward with his malevolent grin, his larger than life darkness—an evil you can feel, straight to the bone.
“My dear, Mr. Flanders.” His features sharpen. His brows dip into a dramatic V. “I have a serious proposition for you.”
Shit. If he asks me to indulge in janitorial services in exchange for class credit, I’ll vomit on his shoes. I’m sick of being treated like an underling just because it’s a known fact I’m broke and live off campus. Although, if there were a cash exchange, and the price were right, I might accept. I want to buy Laken something nice for Christmas, and the way finances drip through my fingers, I’d better start saving my pennies.
His features blur, they morph into another face entirely, my football coach, then Mr. Stevens who runs the gym, Ms. Paxton.
F*ck. I jump back as his size nearly doubles. Edinger swells into the all-familiar bronze statue of Asterion and bellows out a roar before his flesh and body restore to their original size. Then, to my ultimate disappointment, his face magically morphs back into the most hideous creature of all—himself.
My heart thumps through my ears as I try to get a grip.
“You’re a Fem—big f*cking whoop.” I try not to let on that I’m impressed as hell by what just happened.
“I figured you knew.” He gives a quick wink. “I showed you these things for a reason.”
“You need help deciding which entity to be tonight?” If only. I’m pretty sure his sinister intent is going to haunt me long after Halloween.
“No, Mr. Flanders.” He takes a slow step in my direction. “It’s my help I’m offering to you—for a price, of course.”
“Of course.”
“My yoke is easy, my burden is light.” He gleams as if he were about to offer me the world. “I need you to be a permanent obstruction between Wesley and Laken.”
A solid minute beats by, and I forget to breathe.
“Excuse me?” How the hell does this benefit him?
“If you succeed in maneuvering Laken from Wesley”—he connects the tips of his fingers as he reveals the underpinnings of his scheme—“you win a supervising spirit for life.” His smile widens, and I think I know who the supervising spirit is. “If Laken chooses Wesley, then you’ll spend the rest of your days in the tunnels.”
“No thanks.” I start to walk away. I’m sure I’ll analyze this conversation to the hilt until the day I die.
“You’ll change your mind,” he says as I stride right out the door. “And I’ll be right here, waiting. Oh, and Mr. Flanders?”
I stop midflight but refuse him the honor of turning around.
“You’d be remise to mention this to another living soul.”
That part, I already knew.
Dark clouds roll in overhead like mildew-ridden barrels.
“It’ll be a miracle if doesn’t rain,” I say as Laken carefully paints whiskers on Marky’s pale face. She’s already dusted her with powder and glitter. Marky drips from head to foot with enough sparkles to make a supernova jealous, but she’s not going as a terrestrial sphere—tonight she’s a common housecat.
“Don’t you curse us, Flanders,” Laken says, drawing in the last line across my sister’s cheek. She’s got her cheer uniform on, her hair up in a high ponytail with a bright red bow. She’s so f*cking hot, I feel the need to grab the fire hydrant from the kitchen in the event she spontaneously combusts.
It’s nice having Laken in the house. It’s more than just the estrogen level rising that makes it feel like a genuine home, it’s Laken herself. When she leaves, the entire house feels hollow. She has the power to shift the family dynamics without even trying.
“Yeah, Flanders.” Marky rolls her eyes. She’ll take Laken’s side over mine, ten times out of ten, and I secretly love it. “I’ve got six blocks to cover.” She holds out her hands. “How do I look?” she asks, spinning in her black spandex suit and striped pin on tail.
“Puuurfect.” Laken lets out a bubbling laugh. “But you need these.” She plucks a headband, with a pair of ears, off the counter and attaches it to Marky’s head. “There,” she says carefully letting go. “I think we’re ready!”
Laken bends over to pick up her pom poms off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of the kick pants under her skirt.
“You’re such a perv!” Marky smacks me in the stomach before picking up my phone.
“What?” I tease as Laken shoots me a playful look. “I was making sure you didn’t fall.”
“Oh,” she balks, shoving a pom pom in my face. “Supervising me from behind?”
“Exactly,” I say, circling an arm around her waist like it were the most natural thing in the world, and I wish it were.
“Smile!” Marky holds up my phone and takes a picture. “Oh, come on. You look like you’re afraid of each other. Pretend like you’re madly in love—kiss her or something you goof—nothing gross, or I’ll puke.”
Laken hikes her leg in the air and puckers up, so I give her a quick peck on the lips. I’ll be the last fool on earth to turn down a kiss from Laken Stewart.
“Thanks guys.” Marky’s fingers go into speed dial mode and jangle my nerves.
“What are you doing?” I snatch the phone back in the event she decides to get creative.
“Emailed it to myself.” She snatches her pillowcase off the table and makes a run for the door.
“Let’s see it.” Laken gets in close as she inspects my phone. Her perfume twirls through the air like an acrobat, and it takes everything in me not to replicate that kiss with a real one—with a deeper, more meaningful exchange.
“Here.” The image pops back on the screen, and I hold it between us.
“Gosh”—she over exaggerates—“we’re sure cute together.” She winks as she tugs me toward the door.
I think so too, only I’m dead serious.
A low rumble of thunder greets us as we start down the sidewalk. Marky runs next door to collect her buddy from school, and they scoot on ahead, trotting from house to house while Laken and I lag behind.
“You look really scary by the way,” Laken says as her hand rubs up against mine, and we interlace fingers. I’m in my football jersey and Levis. That’s about as much effort as I’m willing to put into the occasion.
“Boo.” It comes out dull. Mostly because my mind keeps drifting to what might happen later tonight.
“Hey, Coop?”
“What’s that?”
A crowd of expertly costumed children stream past us on either side.
“You don’t think this is some kind of trap Wes is pulling me into, and I’ll be an altar sacrifice by midnight, do you?”
A dull laugh rattles through me. “Nope. Knowing Wes this is just another way to bring the two of you closer—emotionally and physically.”
“You’re probably right.”
An entire chorus of playful screams expel in the distance, and the two of us pause as Marky runs toward a haunted maze set up at the end of the street.
“I wish there were some way you could come with me.” She blows it out while looking down at her tennis shoes.
Laken comes in close and lays her head over my chest. I can feel her heart rioting through her sweater—fear emanates from her like a toxin. She looks up at me with those watery steel eyes, her lips drawn in a brilliant shade of red.
“How do you think Wes is getting in there?” She brings her hand to her neck as the cloud of fear intensifies around her. “It seems so protected. You don’t think just any Count can wander in, do you?”
“I’m betting he’s got a supervising spirit on payroll.” Everything in me freezes at the thought.
“You okay?” Laken gives me a playful jostle.
“Yeah.” I come to, stupefied by what I just realized. “You know, we’re going to be late to Henderson if Marky doesn’t speed things up.” I try to block all thoughts of Edinger out of my mind.
I call out to Marky and lead us on the world’s most manic trick-or-treating session.
Laken is going to the Celestra tunnels tonight.
And so am I.
Wesley
The common room in Henderson Hall pulsates with strobe lights set to the rhythm of bongo drums, shredding.
I turn up the lights just enough so people don’t injure themselves when they try to hurdle all the decorative crap Jen and Blaine trashed the place with.
He’s standing alone, nursing a red plastic cup filled with rocket fuel, so I go on over.
“I can’t get two feet without a cobweb smacking me in the face.” I shoulder up to my brother and observe the costumes on parade that filter through the place.
“You’re welcome.” He deadpans. “What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m you.” I glance down at the matching jeans and flannels we’re both sporting.
“You’re smarter than you look.” He knocks back his drink. “Kresley’s been asking about you. Rumor has it she’s looking to bag a Paxton tonight.”
“Have at her.”
“Nope. If I’m lucky, I’ll be doing someone else entirely.” He nods across the room at Jen who’s dressed like an overgrown fairy. She’s one big ball of pink—looks like a birthday cake exploded.
“Good luck with that. You see Laken around?” I’ve already scoured the place twice. Carter said she had to run a quick errand, and judging by the lack of Flanders in the vicinity, I think I know who that errand entails.
“Nope. You two fight or something?”
“Or something.” I let out a breath. “She’ll show. I’m taking her somewhere special later. It’s going to bring us closer than ever.”
“Dude.” Blaine socks me in the arm. “That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t be a doofus like your brother. Make sure you let her know she’s special, or she’ll find someone else to make her feel that way. And don’t go messing with Kresley either. Turns out girls aren’t so hot on cheats. Jen’s words, not mine.”
“Sounds good bro.” I slap him on the back as he heads in Jen’s direction.
Fletch nods and pops up beside me. Entrails hang out of his jeans, and his shirt has the imprint of a tire slashed across it.
“Looking good, man,” I say as he staggers a moment.
“Yeah, Carter wanted me to dress up like some kook, but I opted for something cool. Themed costumes are just one step away from the altar, if you know what I mean.”
“Nice.” I give a little laugh. Fletch is a kook either way. And for a moment I try to remember if Laken mentioned anything about themed costumes.
“You’re never going to believe what just happened.” The thick scent of alcohol washes over me as he sloshes out the words.
“Shit. You’re tanked, and it’s not even eight-thirty.” I step back, trying to catch a decent breath.
“Who the hell cares?” He slaps my stomach with a show of inebriated enthusiasm. “I was walking down the hall, and freaking Grayson put out an invitation.”
“To what? Sleep it off?”
“Dude.” His pale eyes bulge the exact same hue as Laken’s and I miss her. “She pointed to the bathroom and said she had a craving—told me to meet her in five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” Fifty bucks says he misunderstood the entire conversation. She probably said the bathroom would be free in five minutes. Or, I’ll give you five minutes to get the hell away from me before I get the authorities involved.
I brush him off while inspecting the entrance for either Laken or Coop. Something tells me they’ll be making an appearance around the same time.
“Nah.” Fletch shakes his head in a circular motion. “Kres dragged her off to finish up some shit out back—said they’re pulling out all the stops tonight.” He grips my arm as Grayson appears in the hall. “There she is. I gotta blow.” He pauses a second. “Or she does!” He takes off down the hall like he’s about to get laid, and, according to Fletch, that would be the plan. Freaking Grayson. Why can’t she keep her sights on Flanders? Unless, of course, she tried, and he’s too wrapped up in my girlfriend to notice.
I crane my neck in time to spot Grayson yanking Fletch into the bathroom. So much for wedding bells where she and Coop are concerned. Should have figured it was all an act—on Coop’s part anyway.
Speaking of Coop. Flanders strolls into Henderson with his football uniform on, and, swear to God, half the girls just let out an audible sigh. Looks like Grayson missed her mark by minutes. But then again, I think both Grayson and I know Coop isn’t up for quick and dirty bathroom sex tonight—at least not with her anyway.
Coop spots me and makes a beeline in my direction. Probably wants to know where his favorite cheerleader is.
“What’s up?” I say, trying to maintain my focus on the growing crowd.
“Not much. Just finished taking my sister around the block. I miss anything?” He pans the room along with me.
“Nope. You see Laken tonight?” I look him right in the eye. I’ve known Coop too long for him to start lying to my face. At least have the balls to admit you’ve seen her.
“I just ran into Hattie. She mentioned Laken was about to help her get dressed.”
I bite down on the inside of my lip.
Plausible, I suppose. “Laken seems fine with her now that she knows she’s one of us.” I nod. “Hey”—I soften into him—“next time I’d really appreciate it if you clued me in on things like that. Laken’s had a rough time since her accident, and she’s been a little skittish. I know she said she didn’t want to worry me—that she mentioned it to you because you have a class with that girl, but still, next time be upfront with me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t want there to be weirdness between us. And I know Laken appreciates your friendship—so do I.”
Who knew I could sling the bull with the best of them? If Flanders thinks his bloodlines are going to yield him the advantage, he’s got another thing coming. Once I take Laken into the tunnels tonight, she’ll see she doesn’t need Coop or his magical plasma. And then maybe I can get her to confess how the f*ck he convinced her to take it in the first place. Probably some bullshit about how she really might be from Kansas, and his arteries just so happen to be the portal back. Some guys will say anything to get laid.
My lips twist at the thought of him laying a hand on her. For Flanders’ sake he’d better not have.
Coop examines his phone for a minute.
“I need to get going.” Coop expands his chest as wide as a wall. “Lost my house keys this morning. Had to climb to the second floor just to get in. Edinger just sent out a mass email saying he found a set in his room.” He holds the phone up. “I’d better find the bastard before someone else claims them.”
“Cool. Enjoy your night.” I give him a knuckle bump before he splits. “Laken and I are taking off—having a little private party all our own.” I toss it out there to see if he reacts.
“Sounds good.” He nods without flinching. “Sounds like someone’s gonna score.” He says it with far too much exuberance, as if he’s mocking me. “See you when I see you.”
I watch as Cooper Flanders speeds out the exit like a man on a mission. And God knows if the mission involves Demetri Edinger, he’s up to no f*cking good.
Laken strolls into the room with Hattie Tobias by her side, and she’s clinging to Laken like she’s never seen a Halloween costume before.
The two of them migrate their way over, dressed like—well, cheerleaders with bright red lipstick, their hair pulled up in ponytails with matching bows.
“Hey, good looking!” Laken plants a heated kiss over my lips and renews my confidence in us with one swipe of her tongue. For some reason when Coop mentioned he took his little sister trick-or-treating, I envisioned Laken right there with him.
Her eyes widen as we pull away.
Shit. I’m not used to someone reading my mind.
“So…Hattie,” she starts off slow, “it looks like Fallon and Carter are right over there.” She points to the fireplace where Carter looks like a whorish version of Cleopatra. And I bet Marc Antony is just finishing up with the temple prostitute—although he ditched the themed costume.
My heart sinks like a stone as I take Laken in as the cheerleader. I wonder if she knew Coop would show up like the god of the football field.
“Be careful,” Hattie pleads. She pulls Laken into an awkward hug for a very long time. I’m just about ready to break up the party when Laken pushes her off in their direction.
“She’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” Laken clasps onto my shoulder.
“Most Celestra are. Way too much inbreeding going on in that faction.” I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her in tight. “You ready to blow this joint?” I slip my hand under her sweater and make a loop over her skin with my fingertips. Laken shivers and for a brief second I think she’s recoiling from my touch.
“I thought you’d never ask.” It speeds from her as she steadies her eyes over mine. I pull my hand from her sweater and lay it over her shoulder where she can’t listen in. There’s a touch of distrust emanating from her, just the hint of sarcasm in her tone, and it guts me like an emotional kick in the balls.
We make our way to the exit and head out. The cool dew of evening baptizes us with its condensation as the noise from inside quickly dissipates.
There’s no way I’m filling her in on the fact I know she’s been siphoning off Flanders. For whatever reason they’ve decided to keep hush hush, and I don’t see the point of outing them just yet—if ever.
Nope. My strategy to win Laken back for good is quite the opposite. Stay one step ahead of the enemy and draw Laken closer to me by opening up my entire world to her.
I take her up by the hands and kiss them in tandem.
“Are you ready for a night you’ll never forget?”
“Are you ready for a night you’ll never forget?” She twists in her shoes as if she were making an offer. “I might have a little surprise cooked up for us later myself.” She licks her lips like a promise and my dick perks to life.
My hands slip over her sweater safe from the confines of her eavesdropping mind.
“I’m looking forward to every single moment this night has to offer.” I pull her in and hold her for a good long while.
It sounds like Laken is ready and willing to take this relationship to a whole new level.
I should be over the freaking moon, but something has me rattled.
I press a quick kiss into her neck.
Screw it. I’m game for whatever it is that Laken wants to give me.
Hell, I’ll encourage it—beg for it if I have to.
I take her by the hand and lead her toward the bloody brick road.
“Off to see the wizard.” Laken chimes without missing a beat.
“Something like that.”
And the wizard’s name just so happens to be, Skyla Messenger.