Soul Screamers, Volume 1

But now I had proof I wasn’t crazy. Right? I’d seen Heidi Anderson shrouded in shadow and known she would die. I’d told Emma and Nash. And now my premonition had come true.

I stood so fast my bar stool skidded against the tiles. I had to tell somebody. I needed to see confirmation in someone’s eyes, assurance that I wasn’t imagining the news story, because really, if I could imagine death, how much harder could it be for my poor, sick mind to make up the news story? But I couldn’t tell my aunt what had happened without admitting I’d snuck into a club, and once I’d said that part, she wouldn’t listen to the rest. She’d just take away my keys and call my father.

No, telling Aunt Val was out of the question. But Emma would believe me.

While my aunt stared, I dropped my plate into the sink and ran to my room, ignoring her when she called after me. I kicked the door shut, collapsed on my bed then snatched my phone from my nightstand where I’d left it charging the night before.

I called Emma’s cell, and almost groaned out loud when her mother answered. But Emma had gotten home more than an hour early for once. What could she possibly be grounded for this time?

“Hi, Ms. Marshall.” I flopped onto my back and stared at the textured, eggshell ceiling. “Can I talk to Em? It’s kind of important.”

Her mom sighed. “Not today, Kaylee. Emma came home smelling like rum last night. She’s grounded until further notice. I certainly hope you weren’t out drinking with her.”

Oh, crap. I closed my eyes, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make Em sound like a delinquent by comparison. I drew a total blank. “Um, no, ma’am. I was driving.”

“Well, at least one of you has a little sense. Do me a favor and try sharing some of that with Emma next time. Assuming I ever let her out of the house again.”

“Sure, Ms. Marshall.” I hung up, suddenly glad I hadn’t spent the night at the Marshalls’, as had been my original plan. With Emma grounded and Traci probably still in shock, breakfast could not have been a pleasant meal.

After a minute’s hesitation, and much anticipatory panic, I decided to call Nash, because in spite of his reputation and my suspicion about his motives, he hadn’t laughed at me when I told him the truth about the panic attack.

And with Emma grounded, he was the only one left who knew.

I picked up my phone again—then I realized I didn’t have his number.

Careful to avoid my aunt and uncle, who was now awake and frying bacon, based on the scent permeating the entire house, I snuck into the living room, snagged the phone book from an end table drawer and took it back to my room. There were four Hudsons with the right prefix, but only one on his street. Nash answered on the third ring.

My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it over the phone, and for several seconds, silence was all I could manage.

“Hello?” he repeated, sounding almost as annoyed as sleepy now.

“Hey, it’s Kaylee,” I finally blurted, fervently hoping he remembered me—that I hadn’t imagined dancing with him the night before. Because frankly, after the night’s premonition and the morning’s newscast, even I was starting to wonder if Sophie was right about me.

Nash cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with sleep. “Hey. You’re not calling to cancel, are you?”

I couldn’t resist a smile, in spite of the reason for the call. “No. I… Have you seen the news this morning?”

He chuckled hoarsely. “I haven’t even seen the floor yet this morning.” Nash yawned, and springs creaked over the line. He was still in bed.

I stamped down the scandalous images that knowledge brought to mind and forced myself to focus on the issue at hand. “Turn on your TV.”

“I’m not really into current events....” More springs squealed as he rolled over, and something whispered against his phone.

My eyes closed and I leaned against my headboard, sucking in a deep breath. “She’s dead, Nash.”

“What?” He sounded marginally more awake this time. “Who’s dead?”

I leaned forward, and my own bed creaked. “The girl from the club. Emma’s sister found her dead in the bathroom at Taboo last night.”

“Are you sure it’s her?” He was definitely awake now, and I pictured him sitting straight up in bed. Hopefully shirtless.

“See for yourself.” I aimed my remote at the nineteen-inch set on my dresser and scrolled through the local channels until I found one still running the story. “Channel nine.”