chapter 2
The Heat is On
Laken
Monday morning, I sit and gaze out the oversized window from my dorm and marvel how the days blink by like a dove swatting its wings in flight. I wonder where we’re headed. Where it is exactly this manufactured destiny proposes to take me—to take all of us.
Behind me, Jen drools into her phone, conducting her regular morning sexting session with Jackson—a lanky boy from the basketball team. It’s weird seeing Jen so stratospherically happy after she was such a frustrated mess with “insane Blaine” who bagged every babe he could while under the guise of their committed relationship.
The fog smooths over the rolling hills on the other side of the frozen glass. The sun tries to break through the haze, staining the horizon with a salmon bruise. People huddle in overcoats as they shuffle along the intricate walkways. They look small as sparrows who have had their wings clipped—trapped at Ephemeral like some luxurious, opulent prison. The campus gleams and glitters. Ephemeral Academy is a masterwork of beauty with its cathedral-like buildings and winding brick roads.
The dark forest that hedges along the property catches my attention. It gives a private whisper while the fog strays from its border as if it were too afraid to go there. That’s where I last saw Casper, my ex-roommate for less than a week. Someone or something took her. Turns out, Casper was of Celestra descent like my mother and sister. And I can only assume they’re all holed up in the nebulous “tunnels,” being drained of their lifeblood for the sport of it.
“Let’s go!” Jen’s voice hits its upper register and sends a cluster bomb of a headache railing through my temples.
It takes a second to figure out Jen is barking at me rather than Jackson. She buries the phone in her blazer and hitches her thumb to the door.
“I talked to Blaine last night.” She blinks into her statement. “Heard you really showed ‘em who was boss at the commencement.”
“Blaine?” Personally, I’m disgusted Jen still lets him entertain her with those vocal exercises of his that never seem to include the truth. “Please, don’t let that dick-nose worm his way back into your life. Trust me, I should know. I’ve had more than my fair share of a*sholes that tried to screw me over, in more ways than one.” Tucker Donavan springs to mind, my once upon a boyfriend. He was more your f*ck ‘em and leave ‘em type, only he decided to try a girlfriend on for size and to my misfortune that happened to be me.
“It was business.” She averts her eyes as if I should know better—and I do. I’d bet truckloads of Anderson dollars that Blaine is about to worm his way back in. “Relax, Laken. It was a house parent meeting, and he happened to sit next to me. He said you hacked off the heads of those poor birds.”
“That’s right.” I cinch my backpack over my shoulder as we make our way downstairs. “And I’m gunning for hairy balls next time, so he’d better watch out.”
Jen belts out a laugh. She’s not at all as uptight as she was when I first arrived over a month ago, and I’m not sure how alarmed I should be over this.
“Anyway,” she sighs before taking her post as the keeper of the gate. “I decided to talk to Wes regarding your relationship. He’ll have to present you with a purity ring if an engagement is on the horizon.”
“What?” I take it all back. Swear to God, one day I’m going to find out Jen is a transplant from the eighteen hundreds, and I’m not even going to bat a lash. “No, seriously, don’t do that.” Wait—what am I saying? A purity challenge would be genius. At least that way I could hold off Wes while I straightened out my feelings for Coop. I could easily have given myself to Wes at the lake Saturday night, but Cooper kept sliding his way into my mind, my heart—slippery as oil.
Carter waves to me from the dining hall with her blonde locks coifed to perfection. Her bright cherry-stained lips are wide with a smile.
“Look Jen—you should probably just stay out of my love life,” I warn before taking off. I seriously doubt the idea of a ‘purity ring’ will go over too well with Wes—he does have an extra limb dangling from his body that’s been trying to get my attention. I’ll have to figure this out on my own without intervention from Jen and her circa 1884 solutions.
The scent of maple oatmeal and bacon lies thick in the air as I pick up a plate and indulge in the glorious buffet that Austen House affords. Both breakfast and dinner are served in an opulent dining hall. The tablecloths lay stretched out in a pattern of black and orange with fall arrangements bursting from a cornucopia on each table.
Carter springs to life next to me. “Grayson Evans has totally got it out for you,” she hums in my ear, excited as if this tidbit of gossip concerned someone else entirely. The titillation factor alone has her reeling. “She says you’re after Coop and she’s going to kick your ass.”
“Sounds fascinating. Will brass knuckles be involved?” I pause at the fruit bar. Carter’s dark copper eyes spin like a kaleidoscope at the thought of me getting my ass kicked by Grayson. “Let me guess, she’s going to hang me upside down in the quad because she can’t get laid by the hottest looking guy on campus?”
My stomach bottoms out. Since when did Cooper usurp Wes as the god of Ephemeral—or is it my heart Coop’s ushered him from?
Her mouth rounds out as I realize my gaff.
“I meant football team, sorry—blonde moment. Wes is totally the hottest looking guy on campus. And, trust me, nobody is getting laid by Wes other than me.” My insides pinch when I say it. My body has been craving to welcome Wes into it for as long as I can remember.
“I got laid by Wes.” An unfriendly voice taunts from behind as Kresley makes her way past me. Her dark hair is pulled back, her eyes drawn to slits. She totes cosmetic perfection and, if that wasn’t enough for me to dislike her, she once owned Wesley’s heart.
Kresley Fisher. My entire body ignites with contempt at the thought of her touching Wes—my Wesley, the one I presume is hiding out in nuWesley’s body.
“Blow her off.” Carter pulls me out of line as bodies begin to bottleneck behind us.
I snatch up a plate of grapefruit with a Maraschino cherry dotting the top. Not my favorite breakfast, but I appreciate the cherry.
“So”—Carter starts off measured as we make our way to a table in the back—“homecoming is in two weeks, and I thought I’d ask Fletch. You think that’s okay? Or should I wait and see if he asks me?”
“It’s just a football game.” I shrug. “Just hang out with him and do your thing. You’re practically together anyway.” Now that Grayson is in full stalker mode with Coop, I don’t think Carter has any competition when it comes to my goofball brother.
“Just a football game?” She pants as though the entire concept has escaped me.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I forget the beer and tailgating?”
“Laken! There’s a formal at the country club after. It’s a day game—school is canceled and everything.”
“And everything?” I tease. “Sounds exciting.”
“It is. We need to go shopping before things gets picked over.” She leans in. “I hear Kresley had her dress hand beaded in Paris. Fallon says she looks ‘f*cking hot.’” She makes a face.
“Good for her.” A spear of jealousy cuts through me—eviscerates me—leaves my guts spilling all over the floor because Wes once worshiped at her feet, probably kissed them, too. I want to look hot. Just the thought of Wes looking at Kresley, wanting her, kills me on an intimate level, and I feel like an ass for even thinking about Coop.
A dull ache settles in the pit of my stomach because some uncontrollable part of me cries out for Cooper Flanders, and I hate that uncontrollable part of me.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Carter lays her hand over my wrist. She’s got the face of a pageant queen, and she’s a freaking Anderson. What the hell kind of problems could Laken really have?
I twist a smile. It’s more than a little delicious hearing her thoughts—anybody’s thoughts—if I touch their skin or vice versa.
“Nothing’s the matter.” I pluck the cherry off its citrus platter. “Everything is just freaking perfect. I’ve got Wes, and all is right with the world.” If I say it enough maybe I’ll believe it. Although, Wes doesn’t believe a single thing I tell him about our stolen lives and Cooper believes every word that sails from my mouth as if it were gospel.
A tray slams down next to me, and we look up to see a gaggle of curls adorning a baby-faced Hattie Tobias.
“Anyone sitting here?” Her voice sounds shallow, too high and clear to be real, like the monotone recording of a doll.
“It’s all yours,” I say, snatching up my backpack.
“Tell Cooper I said hello.” Her dark eyes spark to life as she withholds a smile. She’s taunting me, threating me on some level, and I don’t like it.
“You can tell him yourself,” I say before turning to Carter. “I have to meet up with someone. I’ll catch you in first. Do yourself a favor, and don’t ask Fletch, give him the chance to crawl to you on his knees.” In any reality Fletch is lucky that a girl of Carter’s, blessed by God, caliber would be interested in him.
“Laken?” Hattie calls after me as I make my way to the door.
I look back expecting her to say something, but she doesn’t. Her face begins to morph. Her skin melts down to her neck. Then a display of skeletal matter appears with muscle and tendons, a row of brown teeth, chipped and rotting. Her face morphs back in reverse until Hattie offers a flesh-eating grin, her pearly whites each neatly restored to their false glory.
I don’t bother to hang out and applaud her supernatural efforts—I just bolt the hell out of Austen House.
Wesley usually walks me to class in the morning, but late last night he texted that he had an “Ensign” meeting and would see me at nutrition. That’s the part of Wes I remember from Cider Plains; the kind, caring boyfriend who would lay his coat over a puddle just so I wouldn’t step in it.
That strange sight from breakfast still lingers in my mind as I walk into the English building. I’ve been looking over my shoulder with every third step, in search of a demonic Tobias. I can’t help but feel like she’s watching me, ready to attack from behind like a rattlesnake. I’ve never felt so vulnerable as I have here at Ephemeral. Even Wes has become an enigma. I trust him about as much as a threadbare rope.
The white glossy halls are empty, save for a few people digging into their lockers. Edinger’s door is open so I peer inside before entering. I’ve already determined that “Mr. Edinger” is far from human. Dr. Flanders referred to him as a Fem—some kind of magical morphing demon that can take the shape of a sack of shit if it wanted, and in Mr. Edinger’s case, it very much wanted.
Coop looks up from his book. His entire face beams as I make my way to the desk behind him. We’re both juniors, and we have a couple subjects together. And even though there are a few seniors in my classes, I don’t share a single hour with Wes.
“Morning handsome,” I whisper. Even if it did come out with a hint of sarcasm, it’s undeniably true. Cooper is a testament to the male species with his chiseled features—his eyes the color of a storm on the horizon.
“Morning to you, beautiful.” Those stone grey lenses watch me with a lustful intensity that sends a sizzle over my flesh.
“So, what are you reading?” I ask, slipping my bag under the desk and plucking out a notebook.
“‘I Sing the Body Electric.’”
“Whitman,” I say without skipping a beat. “If you’re looking for something sensual I prefer, Goethe.”
“‘The Dance of the Dead.’” Cooper’s eyes widen as if I had placed him in a trance.
“You’re familiar.” I’d be lying if I said it didn’t fill me with an erotic fever at the thought of Coop being so intimately familiar with poetry.
“My poet speaks of blood.” He grafts his gaze over me like he’s peeling back my skin. Its painful, like he sees me but too much.
I know where’s he’s going with his blood lust. Coop has more than enjoyed the less than orthodox bodily fluid extraction I’ve performed on him. He’s the Celestra I need to drink from to pry into Wesley’s thoughts in the event he spills all of his deep dark secrets, but he never does.
“It’s still working.” It’s been plain as vanilla listening in on Wesley’s private musings. “I can still hear his thoughts.” Wes is one hundred percent devoted to me. He loves me with a fierceness that rivals the old version of himself, and I didn’t think that was possible.
“It’ll wear off soon.” It comes out dry. “A guy can hope, right?” Coop tucks a smile in the side of his cheek as the class starts to fill with bodies.
I reach down and interlace our fingers.
Coop. I let out a sigh.
He gives a wry smile. Where is the douche anyway?
Ensign meeting.
His forehead wrinkles into three neat lines.
Ephemeral doesn’t have Ensigns. It’s probably a Count thing. This is good. It means he’s trusting you with more information. Ask him about it. See if you can join.
I will. It never occurred to me Wes was doing something that concerned extracurricular evil before breakfast. Speaking of breakfast… I saw Hattie this morning. Don’t you think it’s weird she’s reappeared after all these years?
Hattie and her sister were taken by the Counts over sixty years ago. The rest of her unfortunate family were turned into Spectators without their consent—killed and resurrected for sport. Only the resurrections didn’t last. They decomposed to a partial rigor state and remained so ever since—bedraggled and decaying with time.
I don’t think their mother was taken. Cooper corrects my private thoughts.
That’s right, they mentioned their father, brother, and sister. My thoughts turn to little Lacey—my sweet sister who bottled up her excitement over the fact she was about to turn ten, and now I have no idea if she’s still alive, let alone made it to her birthday.
Marky’s been after me to have you over. You up for a movie? Cooper knows his little sister quells something deep inside of me. I love Marky as if she were my own flesh and blood.
I would really like that. It takes everything in me to keep from tearing up at the thought. This new reality was a malignancy, and Cooper and Marky were the balm.
Coop gives my hand a firm squeeze as if to say thank you.
Mr. Edinger walks in with his cool, ironic swagger, his dark hair slicked back with the tracks from his comb still visible. He gives a private nod in my direction, and this unnerves me.
“Morning class.” It purrs from him with a palpable wickedness that makes my hair stand on end. “Our next collective reading assignment is Animal Farm by George Orwell.”
Animal Farm, I balk.
Coop starts to turn around then pauses. One more thing. His eyes darken as he dips his chin. I’m going to ask Grayson to homecoming.
Cooper
Mr. Edinger takes us down the allegorical road of Orwell’s political thriller while Laken burns a hole through my back the entire live-long hour.
I had to hold back a smile when I saw the look on her face. The idea of me asking Grayson to homecoming wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that I want to take Grayson. I’d much rather go with Laken, and I do plan on stealing a moment, but Grayson makes things believable. It gets Wes off my back and clears the path for Laken to get wherever it is their holding our families.
The bell rings, and a rush of bodies flood out the door.
Crap. I zoned out—not that Edinger has ever had anything enlightening to say. I could pass his class by showing up for tests and doing the work at home.
Laken waits as I scoop up my books before we head out.
“So you up for something midweek?” I ask, trying to ignore the hurt look stamped across her face. Laken is so damn beautiful I feel like an ass for causing her any pain. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t say it sent the adrenaline in me surging. Something about Laken’s disapproval assures me she has feelings for more than just my neck, and selfishly I want it that way. “Wednesday night?”
“Wednesday’s fine.” Her bottom lip extends, her skin breaks out in patches like she’s about to indulge in a nice long cry. Crap. I just want to hold her and tell her I’d rather hang myself by the balls than take Grayson to the library, let alone to the formal, but I can’t. Although, I’m pretty sure I’m going to make Laken feel better in my fantasies tonight. Too bad I couldn’t make them real. Comfort her all night long the way I want to.
She cuts a hard look across the way, and I follow her eyes to Grayson with her blonde hair frizzed out like a haystack, her lips painted bright red like a warning siren.
“I guess you’d better make your move.” Her eyes drag heavy across the floor as she takes a step in the opposite direction.
“Hey—” I push in until we’re less than a breath away. “You know if things were different…” I’m not sure what to say next. I know for a fact she’s still in love with Wes. It’s kind of hard to swallow the idea she’s getting physical with him. Just the thought of her lips meshed against his, makes me want to snap his neck. I’m not sure why I feel so protective over her. All I know is I wish she were mine—that it was my body, my lips she was crushing up against. But, for now, this is what we have—physical distance—Grayson hovering in the background. “Laken”—I push out her name with a stone of grief lodged in my throat—“you’re still with him.”
“You’re right.” She presses her lips together and gives a quick nod.
“And you might always want to be with him—that’s okay.” The hell it is, but I’ll be the last person to force myself on her. “That’s what life is about, having the right to choose, to make decisions that have the ability to span your entire existence, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Sometimes love doesn’t give the easy answer. It doesn’t make it wrong though. Good things are worth fighting for.” Like you and me I want to add, but don’t.
Her pale eyes widen. Her face crumbles as if this were too much to bear.
Grayson stomps over and plants herself between us.
“Is this a private conference? Lover’s only?” She bats her heavily made up eyes with lashes thick as shredded felt.
“I was just leaving.” Laken scowls at her before heading out the door.
“What the hell do you see in her?” Grayson pets her leather bag as we thread through the hall.
“She’s just a friend.” Too bad that’s the God’s honest truth.
“More like a special friend—a friend with benefits. It’s obvious you’ve got it bad for her. Don’t try to deny it.” Her lips part in disgust. She presses out her chest as if she’s trying give me a couple of good reasons to take my mind off Laken.
“How about you?” I twist the conversation back in her direction. “You got any special friends?” I’m not up for denying any feelings I have for Laken, so I change the subject.
“Just one.” Her dark eyes narrow in on mine. I know what she’s thinking. I was with Grayson more than once. I came close to thinking about a serious relationship, but that was before I found out Flynn Masterson was screwing around with her on the side, sometimes on the same night. That revelation stopped any potential relationship cold in its tracks. Then after a long, hot summer, Laken showed up dazed and confused and shed a light over who I wanted to be with, and for damn sure it wasn’t Grayson.
“So, do you have anything set up for homecoming yet?” I stuff my hand in my pocket and watch as her lips part like reopening a wound.
“Are you asking me to the dance?” Her brows wiggle like long, black worms.
“Yes.” I nod into her.
Her features contort as tears spring to her eyes.
Shit. The last thing I want is to toy with Grayson’s feelings. I knew this had “crappy idea” written all over it.
“I have the perfect dress! It’s turquoise with a big bow that hangs over my ass. Of course, you’ll get to unravel it later when I gift myself to you.” She dips her red nails into my chest while licking her lips like sealing a deal. “You can either wear turquoise and black, or just black, no white. And I’ll need a trio of roses for my corsage. Pick up your boutonnière at the same time, would you?” She takes a few steps back still lost in thought. “We need a limo—a private one for just you and me. Make sure to score a full bar. This is going to be awesome!” She bounces down the hall, disappearing in the swell of bodies.
Shit.
That wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned. Hell, I don’t know what I envisioned. I just thought it was a good way to get Wes off my ass after he gave me the, get-yourself-laid-by-anybody-but-my-girlfriend speech last weekend. Wouldn’t it be ironic if Wes never had her? If it was me she shared her intimate moments with when all this bullshit was said and done?
Outside, the fog curls its icy fingers around my neck as if it were Wes himself. The sky says rain, but it feels like an arctic blizzard is about to erupt.
In the distance, situated neatly on senior lawn, Laken catches my eye as Wes draws her into a kiss. Laken pulls back and laughs. Her voice echoes across the yard and trembles right through my bones, sends my mood plummeting a thousand degrees as I take them in—Laken and Wes as the perfect couple. She pecks a kiss over his lips all too voluntarily. She’s still into him. I’m just a reality fix when she needs it with some blood on the side.
I blow out a breath and head back toward the English building. I ditch the doors and head around to the side where nary a soul is wandering.
“Heart broken and alone?” A small female voice calls from the overgrown hedges.
A twin set of bodies morph from nothing. The Tobias sisters in their sickly frames, wash in and out of existence like a bad dream. Two balding girls, with long hair in patches—their clothes hang off their skeletal frames. Their bare legs, nothing but skin over bone.
“Pulling double-duty?” I make my over without reservation. Two long-dead Celestra only wish they had the power to scare me. The only thing that scares me is never having Laken the way Wes does. I wish it didn’t. I wish I didn’t care, but I do. And if all I get is hurt in the end, then I want to feel that, too. I’ll take anything Laken gives me, the pain right along with the pleasure. Sometimes heartache is all you get out of life, and yet in all things we’re told to give thanks. I’m starting to feel the irony.
The Tobias sisters blink into one another in their disheveled state before transforming into the beauty queens they once were, with a decent amount of meat on their bones, their rags traded for full skirts, tight sweaters that accentuate their God-given curves. Their pale hair curls around their necks, full and glossy, ripe for a shampoo commercial.
“Cooper, what is this double-duty?” Hattie takes a step forward. “We prefer you speak plain and clear. We don’t like being made to feel like simpletons. We held the highest scores on all our exams, we won’t be pitied for fools.”
A dull laugh rattles through me. Figures—the ego’s still in tact.
“Double-duty,” I start, “you know, flesh and bones today, a poltergeist tomorrow. You’re Laken’s new house sister, or did you forget?” I direct it toward Hattie since her sister’s vocal cords are on strike.
They examine one another for a very long time, engaging in a telepathic conversation, no doubt.
“I’m not Laken’s house sister, Cooper.” Hattie takes a tempered breath. “A Fem is.”
Wesley
Sickles fall from the sky as I dart through the storm and into the library, a half-hour late for my shift. The tall ornate ceiling in the tundra gives me pause with its intricate mosaics. The muted tones of the stained glass call out and demand for me to admire them, but Laken beams a smile at me from the counter and outshines any beauty they could ever hope to offer.
She looks so damn hot with her white shirt unbuttoned to her cleavage. Her tongue wets her lips just for me. I wish I could rake the books off the counter, hell—the go-back cart, and love her like I want to. She mentioned “all night long” was at the top of her list, so I’m pretty sure the library is off limits for now, unless I make arrangements. Although with my luck someone will walk in, and that someone will be Cooper.
“Sorry I’m late.” I steal a kiss before making my way around the marble counter. “Practice ran late. You should come down sometime if you want to hang out—watch me beam a couple guys in the head for the fun of it.”
“I’d love to watch you commit bodily harm to others.” She gives a little laugh, and her teeth glitter in the light. Everything about Laken shines.
I’m glad she’s amused. I’m pretty sure Flanders is due for a beating one of these days. Grayson shot me a picture of him cozying up to Laken after first. You couldn’t wedge a toothpick between them the way his body was jammed against hers. Although Grayson did text me a few minutes later and mention he asked her to homecoming. Maybe Laken shot him down, and he asked her as a reflex? There’s not one ounce of me that believes he’s into Grayson. He wasn’t that into her when he was banging her. Grayson’s not his type, and Laken very much is.
“Have you thought about homecoming yet?” I groan a little as I finish the question. I should have asked her in some memorable, romantic way and not brought it up like I was asking which fast food joint she wants to hit for dinner.
“Funny you should ask. Homecoming has been on my brain all day.” She bites down on her lip seductively, and a flare of heat shoots through my lower half.
Knew it. Coop asked, and she said no.
“Anybody pop the question yet?” Crap. Can I step in shit any faster? And what’s with making it sound like a f*cking wedding proposal?
“I was kind of hoping this one guy would ask.” She casts a coy glance at the ceiling as she takes up my hand.
“Am I this one guy?” I pinch my lips to the side because this isn’t going how it should, and I know it. A part of me is afraid I’m not the guy at all.
“You’re the only guy.”
My body relaxes as she says it. Laken lifted a weight, and she doesn’t even know it.
I take her in with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, bringing out the almond shape of her eyes. Her cheekbones are cut high and sharp as they mimic a granite ledge. Laken is a walking piece of art that has the ability to make me tremble. She’s the only perfect being I ever want to sketch. I’d like to trace out every inch of her, slow, with my mouth.
“Am I the only guy?” I steady myself over her, relaxing my arms across her shoulders.
Laken’s brows dip as if she injured me and doesn’t know how to make the bleeding stop. Shit. I need to stop acting like a wounded p-ssy and accept the fact I need to fight for her a little harder than I thought.
“Wes.” She pulls me in by the back of the neck and sweeps her lips over mine. “There’s only you. I promise.” She needles into me with a sincere gaze. “There’s only ever been you. Please believe me.” She shakes her head, imploring me to hear her words, to feel them.
I close my eyes and crash my mouth over hers. Laken takes the initiative and thrusts her tongue into my mouth in long, hungry strokes. I can feel her heart drumming over my chest with a viral intensity as she wipes away any fear I might have had that Cooper Flanders was digging in deep—that he asked her to homecoming of all things. If he ever tried to snatch Laken, he’d have to pay in broken limbs, a broken heart wouldn’t be good enough.
Laken pulls back, and her eyes sharpen over mine.
“That was some kiss,” she whispers less than enthused.
“Hey?” Flynn barks from the other side of the counter. “Is that what they pay you to do? I’ve got a book that needs to find its way to the jackass writing my lit paper.”
Laken bubbles with laughter as she makes her way over. There’s a spring in her step, and I’d like to believe I gave it to her but something about the look she just shot me suggests otherwise.
They make small talk as she helps him with his stack.
Edinger walks in and skirts the miles of leather-bound encyclopedias on display mostly for decorator purposes. I go over to see what he wants before he makes a scene like morphing into a bat and crapping on me for the hell of it.
“Can I help you?” I’ve been pissed at him ever since he let loose and scared the hell out of Laken a few weeks back. He said he was just having some fun, but I’m pretty sure holding your decapitated head falls under the category of psychotic behavior, even for a Fem.
“Have you considered what we discussed?” He bleeds a dark smile. There’s a pained look in his eyes as if it took great effort to impart the false emotion.
He’s been after to me to think up a way to stamp out the Spectators once and for all. I guess his botched science project is bad for his ego.
“I’ve thought about it.” I nod. “And I think it’s necessary.” The Spectators have been terrifying the population for years. If we don’t move to eradicate them, we’ll have an apocalypse on our hands one day. “It’s just a means to an end. They don’t really want to live like that—nobody would.”
“Have your journeyman get their attention. Make them believe a cure is on the horizon. Gather them in droves. They must never see it coming.”
Journeymen. A dry laugh rattles through me.
Coop’s all I got, and usually he’s all I need with the exception that I don’t trust his ass anymore.
“Consider it done.” It doesn’t sound too safe for Coop, but I’m starting not to care.
Guilt coats me heavy as lead.
So, maybe killing Coop isn’t high on my priority list at the moment, but if he keeps pushing things, it just might get there. A thought dawns on me. If he goes after them, he might get bit and turn into the very thing we’re trying to eradicate. A part of me wouldn’t feel too bad if it did happen. I hate that I feel like a jealous thirteen-year-old girl. I used to like Coop. He’s one of the nicest guys I know.
Edinger takes a breath and nods over to Laken, still lost in her conversation with Flynn.
“She can hurt you, Wesley.” Edinger squints into her a moment. “If I were you I’d be very careful. Women like her have the ability to impress themselves over your soul, to become a paralyzing obsession. I should know.”
“Laken and I are good. Things are moving in the right direction.”
“If you had to choose the Countenance over Laken, would you?”
“Of course.” I don’t hesitate with my response. I knew it was the right answer, but it’s not the truthful one.
Edinger gives dry laugh. His shoulders bounce with disbelief as he walks out of the library and into the rain. What my mother sees in him I will never know.
I make my way over to Laken, who’s busy roping her hair around her finger, and slip my arm around her waist.
I know for a fact I’ll never have to choose between Laken and the Counts because she’s one of us now—she will be forever—we both will.
“I’m out of here.” Flynn digs his palm into his eye like he’s exhausted. His sandy hair is shagged out in wiry curls like some surfer who forgot his way to the barbershop. “Think about what I said.” He points into her before hitting the exit.
“What’d he say?” I’m only half-interested. I’m more into what Laken is going to think when I give her a private tour of the stacks in a few minutes.
“He said I should dump you and go to homecoming with him. He said he has access to condoms in three different colors, and he’d pay me ten grand to keep my cheer uniform on.”
“I’d laugh, but it sounds like Flynn.” I shake my head while inspecting the new crop of books that were just returned.
“I might be teasing,” she laughs, relaxing her hands over the back of my pants. “So, what’s this Ensign thing about? Can anyone join?” There’s an innocence about her that lures me in, disables me and leaves me down for the count. “Does it have to do with the flag or something?”
I cut a look to the door where Edinger stained the entry not too long ago. He goes ape shit if anyone rats out his status as a Fem. I only found out through the Ensign program once I became a cadet. If Laken goes down that thorny path, she’ll have to deal with the fact her English teacher is a creature not of this earth. I don’t want to set her brain on fire with all this psychotic info, but in a way she has the right to know, to dig in as far and deep into the Counts as anybody else. Besides, after Edinger sliced off his head in front of her, he was practically asking to be revealed. I don’t think for a minute Laken believes she was hallucinating.
“The Ensign program isn’t school run.” I swipe my thumb over her cheek. I’d much rather focus on the two of us than discuss anything to do with the Counts, but she’s hungry for something more, I can tell. “In fact, Ephemeral doesn’t have a thing to do with it.” I let out a breath and examine her like this. The final step before I pull her all the way in. She wants this, and I want this for her—for us. “It’s an intimate branch of the Countenance that only those showing true interest in the lineage are privy to.”
“I have true interest. I want to do this with you.” She says it so fast, she doesn’t leave room for dispute. Laken is anxious to learn. I’ve never seen a new recruit thirstier.
“Good. I’m glad. I really think this could bond us as a couple, but you don’t have to do this for the sake of our relationship. We could share other things. I would never hold it against you if you weren’t into it.”
She brings my hand to her lips and plants a kiss over it. I wish Wes would see how serious I am. There’s not a thing on this planet I don’t want to share with him, and being an Ensign, whatever it is, will pull us that much closer.
I give a private smile.
“Wednesday night there’s a special meeting—a gathering. The girls division is called the Treasures, so you wouldn’t be an Ensign, but it’s essentially the same thing. I’ll introduce you to the group. If you want, we can do an initiation that night.”
“Wednesday?” Her gaze slips past my shoulder a moment. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
I take her in and tighten my grip around her waist.
“You won’t regret this. I have a feeling this will bring us closer than you’d ever imagine.”
“Oh, I’m hoping it will.” She gives an impish grin.
Eternal bonds are involved—monogamous covenants that will link us together for the rest of existence could be on the line if I make the proper arrangements.
And I will.