Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers)

Chapter 12



I think I got about an hour of sleep that night. If that.

My brain worked overtime, trying to process what I’d seen. What I’d learned. Focusing on Bishop’s memory was good for one thing, though—it took my mind off Stephen. Off Julie. Off my own problems.

Since Bishop’s eyes were bad back then, I hadn’t gotten a very good glimpse at anything, but I could tell this much...based on the clothes the dead woman wore, the jewelry, how Kraven was dressed...

It was a long time ago. But how long?

Seeing this memory brought forth another thousand questions that now needed answering. But nobody was willing to answer them.

All I knew was that he and Kraven had been grave robbers. Bishop had been fifteen, and Kraven, sixteen—so approximately three years before they died. They worked for somebody named Kara, who they didn’t trust—a woman who was getting into the occult. That didn’t bode well for what I knew about their futures.

It had been disturbing, but it hadn’t made me loathe Bishop or fear him. I didn’t know why he wanted to keep his past from me so badly that he wouldn’t even tell me his real name.

After I forced myself out of bed, had a shower and got dressed, I saw Cassandra downstairs. I half expected her to know about Bishop’s midnight visit, as if she might have some kind of angelic intuition about this sort of thing, or felt the spark of energy between us that still, hours later, made my skin tingle.

The angel gave me a weary look. “I’m still tired.”

“Join the insomnia club,” I said, nodding at the cupboard. “Coffee’s up there.”

“Will that help me?”

“Probably not. But it’ll feel like it does for a little while. My mother swears by the stuff to get her through a long day. I think she’s one of Starbucks’s best customers.”

Cassandra got the canister of coffee down and looked at it, confused. Finally, I took it from her and helped make a pot of coffee, then fixed it for her like my mother would—heavy on the cream and sugar.

She sipped from the mug gingerly, then gave me a smile. “I like it.”

“Hooray.” I sat down at the kitchen table after grabbing some toast and peanut butter—the pieces piled high on my plate to help stave off my constant hunger. I had a cup of coffee, too, even though it wasn’t my drink of choice. Then I gave the angel a guarded look. “So off to do your mission today?”

“Of course.”

“The mission with the others or your supersecret one?”

She blanched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t prepared to tell her I read her mind the other night. At least, a small piece of it. It would raise too many questions I didn’t want to answer right now. “If you say so.”

Cassandra’s real agenda for being sent here wasn’t my concern—at least, I didn’t think it was. Today, I had to get my bearings again. I had to find Stephen. I’d been so close at the mall yesterday—I had to find him before...

I took a gulp of the hot coffee and swallowed it down.

If he went through stasis, if he turned into a total sociopath instead of only a part-time jerk...

Then I was in serious trouble. Without my soul I was next on the list to either turn evil or die.

My attention was again drawn to the blond angel standing nervously by my kitchen sink. She gripped the counter behind her. Her skin was pale. This wasn’t the warrior I’d seen kick Roth’s ass on Saturday night. Something was wrong with her.

Concern welled inside me. “You okay?”

She blinked, as if my voice summoned her out of her deep thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Of course I am.”

“You seem a little distracted this morning.”

“Sleep is important. I failed to get enough.”

“That’s all it is?”

She brought her coffee mug to the table and sat down across from me. “It’s different here. I—I feel different from when I’m home. The sleeping is one thing. The need to eat is another.”

“Okay.” She was starting to worry me. “What’s wrong, Cassandra?”

Her blue eyes raised to mine. “Emotions. They’re...troubling.”

“In general, or your emotions?”

“Mine.” She swallowed hard. “It’s like a sensory rush—a wave crashing over me. Too much all at once. I can barely process it.”

“Is that because you’re one of the hosts?”

She nodded. “It would be different for one who was once human. They’d already have experienced all of this. But for me...” Her cheeks reddened. “I need to be focused while I’m here. It’s so important that I don’t get distracted. But...it’s proving to be a challenge. Especially when I’m around him.”

Him.

My grip tightened on my coffee mug. The hot liquid burned my fingertips through the ceramic, but I didn’t let go. “I’m not following.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow if she was talking about Bishop. Jealousy poked its pointed head up and glanced around with a sour look on its face.

She forced a smile. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Was she trying to say she was falling for Bishop? That being around him made her feel things—confusing things?

My chair made an unhappy squeaking sound as I pushed back from the table. “I need to go to school.”

Cassandra looked alarmed at the suggestion. “Do you think that’s wise? A school would be filled with human souls. It could be dangerous for you.”

“Yeah, well, if I don’t go I’ll start failing my classes. You have goals, I have goals. Sometimes those goals are different.”

I didn’t know what was up with Cassandra’s melancholy angel act, but I knew it had something to do with Bishop.

The thought tied my stomach up into unpleasant origami shapes that looked a lot like two angels in love.

* * *

McCarthy High was only a few blocks from my house, its expansive grounds covered in big trees and grassy lawns, although the leaves had fallen from the trees by this time of the year and the lawns weren’t quite as green as they were when school started early last month. Winding paths led to the football field and the parking lot. This was my fourth year here. I was a senior. A veteran. I knew this place like the back of my hand. And I could tell when something was different, even if it took me a second to realize what it was. When I saw it, my stomach sank.

The flag out front was at half-mast.

The news about Julie’s suicide was public knowledge.

Holding tightly on to my control, I weaved through the crowded halls toward my locker. I couldn’t help but overhear the talk about Julie. Mostly people were shocked, overwhelmed, upset. Some were openly crying and consoling each other, those who knew her well enough to call her a friend. However, I overheard two girls being snarky, making snide comments like “some bitches deserve to die.”

I sent a withering look in their direction, which they barely noticed.

Then I banged into a guy from my afternoon history class, Noah—the one planning the big Halloween party. He gave me a slow smile. I forced a shaky one, too, even though his soul made it difficult to think. Orbit of hunger. Bad.

“Hey, Sam,” he said. “Looking good this morning.”

I eyed him warily. “If you say so. I guess lack of sleep becomes me.”

He laughed drily before sobering. “Sucks about Julie, but I know she would have wanted me to go ahead with my plans. You coming to my party on Wednesday night?”

“Going to try my best.”

“Wear something sexy,” he suggested, before he disappeared down the hall.

Hmm. Let me think about that. Was I going to Noah’s big Halloween party? No.

Would I be wearing something sexy even if I did? Definitely not.

The problem—one of the many problems—with being a gray is that I gave off this...vibe. Maybe it was the same vibe that messed with my cell phone. It made me more appealing than usual. Even at five-foot two, with brown hair, brown eyes and what I considered average looks, I now got hit on daily.

I’d never been so popular with boys as I’d been since I lost my soul. It was a moth and flame situation. Get too close to me and you’re in danger of getting torched.

Every one of these boys, like Noah, would be happy to volunteer as my victim—would be thrilled to let me kiss them, all so I could take their soul to satisfy my hunger.

Just the thought of it made my stomach clench—not with disgust, but with the desire to feed. The toast this morning hadn’t even made a dent in this ongoing problem.

It’s getting worse. I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but it was true. Stephen said that the cold and the hunger increased when we were close to stasis.

It was getting close. All I could do was ignore it with all my willpower and do everything I could to figure things out before it was too late.

Even though this reminder of my dark side made me want to flee the school immediately, I forced myself to go to my first class—English. Colin sat directly behind me. He was already there. There were dark circles under his eyes. Seemed to be a common fashion statement this week.

I didn’t meet his eyes, but I noticed his shoulders tense as I drew closer. He didn’t say anything.

At least he was here. It was a worry I’d had ever since he’d kissed me on Saturday night. I was certain I hadn’t taken much, not enough to really hurt him. But I hadn’t been totally sure.

I froze as he leaned forward, his edible scent growing impossible for me to ignore.

“I’m sorry about Saturday night,” he whispered. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. “I was drunk. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“I heard you were with Julie when she...” His voice broke off. “When she fell.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and nodded. His expression held deep pain.

“People are saying she did it because of me,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “That’s not true. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“I wish I knew.”

That was when our English teacher, Mr. Saunders, started class. He pushed the thick glasses he always wore, which magnified his eyes to twice their size, back up on his nose.

“Like I said on Friday—” Mr. Saunders’s back was to us as he wrote on the whiteboard. “We have a quiz today on Catcher in the Rye. I hope you all finished reading it over the weekend.”

There was a quiz today? I didn’t remember him saying anything like that on Friday. Didn’t matter, though. I’d read the book before. English was one of my best classes. No worries.

Catcher in the Rye was one of those books that seemed really simple on the surface—almost too easy to read. But it had layers and layers of depth to uncover if you were willing to do the work.

I tried to focus on the test, but it was difficult. My mind kept wandering all over the place. Still, I finished with twenty minutes left to go before class ended.

Someone knocked on the door and Mr. Saunders answered it. After a moment, he looked in my direction.

“Ms. Day?” He peered at me through his thick glasses. “You’ve been summoned to the guidance counselor’s office. You can finish tomorrow.”

“I’m finished already.” I got up uneasily and dropped my test at his desk, casting another glance toward Colin, who watched me from the back of the class, expressionless, before I left the room.

I’d spent a lot of time in Ms. Forester’s office during my shoplifting fiasco. She’d tried to make me feel comfortable about pouring out my soul about my parents’ divorce. About my feelings. And I did, to an extent, even though it made me uncomfortable to sit in an office and discuss emotions with someone I barely knew, who had a box of tissues at the ready for the tears of her students.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked Ms. Forester when I saw her. The door to her office, which was opposite the principal’s office, was ajar.

She beckoned to me. “Come in, Samantha.”

Ms. Forester was young, pretty, still in her twenties, with long, dark hair swept back off her face. She wore tight blouses and slim pencil skirts a couple inches over her knees, which I didn’t appreciate, but plenty of boys did.

I tentatively entered the small office and immediately saw a familiar face in one of the two chairs opposite the counselor’s desk.

Jordan was here, too. And the look she sent me was sharp enough to kill.