Gena Showalter - Intertwined 02 (3 page)

Several days ago, those witches had cast a spell over them. A freaking death spell. If, in the next five days, Aden failed to attend some sort of meeting with them, Mary Ann, Riley and Aden's girlfriend Victoria would die.

That simple. And that complicated.

No one knew where the meeting was being held or even where the witches were staying. Which made it impossible to meet with them.

Maybe that had been their intention all along.

Stomach churning again
…

And yet, the prospect hardly seemed real. They had cursed her with death if Aden failed to attend their meet
ing, yet Mary Ann felt fine. Healthy, whole, as if she had decades ahead of her rather than days.

Would her heart simply stop working? Or was she fooling herself? Would nothing actually happen, the spell just a joke? A means of terrifying her?

She'd spent all last night researching witches and spells and ways to break those spells. The information differed, depending on the source. The source she most believed, however, was Riley, and he said spells, once uttered, sparked to unbreakable life.

The muscles in Riley's hand twitched, returning her drifting mind to the present. “Believe me, I haven't forgotten the meeting.” His voice was toneless now.

Trying not to scare her? Too late. Even though the prospect didn't seem real, she was still scared out of her mind. He believed in the witches' power completely. Which meant he honestly believed everyone in their group would soon die.

“Any idea where that meeting will be held?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Not yet, but I'm working on it.”

So frustrating! Not that she was frustrated with him, of course, but with the entire situation.

“It'll be okay,” Riley said, as if sensing her growing upset. He probably did. He could read auras, and therefore emotions. “We'll figure everything out. I promise. I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

She trusted him. She did. More than anyone else in her life. He never lied to her. He gave her the facts, straight up, unvarnished, no matter how harsh they were.

Finally they reached the wall, though they weren't even close to the gate, and stopped. Without a word, Riley leapt to the top of the seven-foot structure, his graceful movements making the jump look seamless. Grinning, he leaned down and offered her a hand.

Even that, she had to use all of her strength to reach—and she probably looked like a spastic rabbit, hopping up and down as she stretched to connect with him. Yet the moment she clasped his fingers, he pulled her the rest of the way effortlessly.

“Thank you. For everything,” she said as she balanced on the ledge. “And not to change the subject, but do you think Tucker will be okay?”

Tucker. Her former boyfriend. They'd rescued him from the Vampire Ball, where he'd been the night's snack of choice.

Riley jumped to the ground on the other side. Again, the motion was seamless, the impact of landing barely registering. “He'll survive. Unfortunately,” she thought she heard him add with a twinge of jealousy. “He's part demon, remember?” He held up his arms, waiting for her. “Demons heal faster than humans.”

She'd done this so many times she didn't hesitate; she, too, jumped. He caught her and settled her to her feet,
letting her slide down his beautiful body, their gazes locked together. Her palms lifted and flattened on his chest. His heart was pounding. As was hers.

“Demon. As if I could forget.” That demon blood was the only reason Tucker had dated her. She'd calmed him, he'd confessed after their breakup. A breakup he had fought. Not because he loved her, but because he'd craved more of the calming, as if she were a sedative. Maybe she was.

Sometimes she wondered if that was why Riley was with her. Because she calmed him, too. He was a supernatural creature, after all, and her presence alone had to soothe the brutal, ferocious beast inside him.

If so, she would still want to be with him. She was already addicted to him,
enjoyed
his wildness. But she would still wish he wanted her for her, not for what she could do. Still. She could always content herself with the knowledge that she now soothed rather than drained, as she'd done to her own mother.

“You look sad,” Riley said, head tilting to the side as he studied her. “Why?”

Thoughts of her mother always brought melancholy, but that wasn't the reason for the emotion he was sensing. “I'm…” What could she say? She didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to admit her fears, either. That the girl she was might not supersede the ability she
possessed. She'd seem needy and her self-esteem low.
Are you? Is it?

Without warning, Riley swung her to the left. She yelped as her entire world spun. Her back was suddenly pressed against a tree trunk, though she wasn't jarred in the least. Strong hands had padded the collision, so much so she wouldn't have known anything was behind her if not for her inability to move away. Not that she wanted to move away.

Riley pinned her completely in the next instant, caging her in, his hands at her temples.

“Are we under attack?” she managed to say. Had something—or someone—threatened them? Had—

“You're beautiful, you know that?” he said, voice husky.

No threat, then. She melted. “Th-thank you.” Though she wasn't sure she agreed. She could maybe be called “cute” on her best days. She just, well, she had a baby face. A little rounded, dimpled. Olive skin like her mother—the only attribute she did like—and light brown eyes. “So are you. Beautiful, I mean.”

“I am not.” Said with disgust, though his eyes were as bright as emeralds. “I'm manly.”

A laugh escaped her. “Manly. Definitely. I don't know what I was thinking, calling you beautiful.” Exquisite was a better word for those rough features. “Forgive me?”

“Always.” He leaned down, his nose at her throat, and sniffed. “Have I ever told you how good you smell? Like sugar cookies and vanilla.”

“That's my lotion.” Was that breathless voice really hers?

“Well, your lotion is going to get you nibbled on.”

That had been the plan. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His head rose, but only slightly, and their noses touched at the tip. He was breathing heavily, and so was she, so every time she inhaled,
she
scented
him
. She might smell like cookies, but he smelled like the forest around them. Wild and earthy and
necessary
.

She cupped his nape, her other hand returning to rest just over his heart. The beat was faster now, so fast she couldn't keep count. His heat enveloped her like a winter coat, keeping her toasty warm, just as she'd known he would.

“Riley?”

“Yes?” That single word was a low, rumbling growl.

“Why are you attracted to me?” Oh, God. Had she really gone there? And yep, she'd sounded needy.

“Fishing for compliments, darling? Well, I can play. I'm with you because you're brave. Because you're sweet. Because you care about your friends. Because every time I look at you, my heart beats out of control, as you can
probably feel, and all I can think about is being with you longer.”

“Oh. That's nice.” A silly reply, but she didn't know what else to say. He'd just rocked her entire world. And now she wanted to rock his. “Kiss me.” Inch by inch, she closed the distance between their mouths.

“My pleasure.” And then their lips met.

Automatically she opened for him, letting his tongue thrust inside, and it was like being struck by lightning. Electrifying.
So good
. He tasted as good as he smelled, just as wild, just as earthy. Just as necessary.

His fingers slipped under the hem of her T-shirt and settled on her hips, branding the sensitive skin there. He urged her away from the tree and closer to his body, and she eagerly followed that urging.
So good,
she thought again.

This was their second kiss, and it was far better than the first. Which she wouldn't have thought possible. That kiss had consumed her. This one lit her up and burned her all the way to her soul.

They stood like that, lost in each other, for several minutes, still tasting, hands wandering—though not daring too much—and utterly enjoying.

“I love kissing you,” he rasped.

“Me, too. I mean, I love kissing
you
. Not myself.”

His chuckle brushed her cheek with warm breath, and goose bumps broke out from there to her neck. “While
we're at school, I won't be able to think about anything else. Just this. Just you.”

With a moan, she tugged him down for more. The tangle of their tongues excited her as nothing else ever had. The feel of him against her, so strong and sure, thrilled her. Other girls might look at him and crave him, but it was Mary Ann he turned to with desire in his eyes.

Yeah, but because he really wants you or because you calm his wolf?

Stupid fear.

She stiffened, and Riley pulled away from her. He was panting, little beads of sweat on his brow.

“What's wrong?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“I don't believe you, but you'll tell me the truth later, after the flames have died and I can think properly. Won't you?”

He couldn't think properly? She almost grinned. “Yes.” Maybe.

“And anyway, we needed to stop.”

The same words he'd uttered last time.

She was having trouble catching her breath or she would have sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Disappointing, but indisputable. “If we don't, we'll be late for school.”

“Or we won't make it to school. At all.”

Plus, she didn't want her first time to be out in the open. Not that she would tell him that.

They reluctantly parted and kicked into gear, heading toward Crossroads High. She couldn't help herself. She reached up and traced her fingertips over her lips. They were swollen. Probably red. Definitely moist. Would everyone know what she and Riley had been doing with only a glance?

Twenty minutes later, not nearly long enough, they reached the edge of the woods and stepped onto school property, the massive building coming into view, forming a half-moon of three stories. In several places, the roof pointed toward the sky. Salmon-colored brick was decorated with multiple black and gold banners that read
Go Jaguars
.

The lawn was manicured, the grass slowly fading from green to yellow to off-white. Cars sped through the parking lot and kids rushed up the concrete steps, bypassing the flagpole without a glance.

In front of the closest set of doors stood Victoria. Alone. She was pacing, hands wringing together in agitation. She wore a black T-shirt and matching miniskirt, dark hair flowing down her back. A beam of sunlight bathed her as if drawn to her, causing the blue of her eyes to practically glow.

The younger the vampire, the more time they could spend in the sun, Mary Ann knew. The older they got,
the more the sun burned and stung their skin. Surprisingly sensitive skin, since it was so thick and hard, like marble, that even a blade couldn't cut through it.

Victoria was still at an age—eighty-one or something like that—where the sun didn't bother her. Like wolves, vampires aged slowly.

For the first time, that thought upset her. Victoria and Riley would age at the same rate while Mary Ann would wither, becoming a hag. Oh, God. How mortifying! And now she wanted to slap the vampire girl around a bit, just on principle.

“Have you seen Aden?” Victoria asked the moment they reached her. Normally she was pale, but today she was chalk white.

“No,” Mary Ann and Riley said in unison. She recalled the last time she'd seen him. They'd snuck him into his room at the ranch and he'd flopped onto his bed. He'd been pale, shaking, sweating, breath shallow as he fought for every inhalation.

She'd thought he would rest, and rest would heal him. What if—

“Well, he wasn't at the ranch this morning,” Victoria rushed on. “But he was supposed to be there so we could walk to school together.”

“Maybe he's inside,” Riley said.

The vampire's concern didn't lessen. If anything, her hand-wringing became more insistent. “He isn't. I
checked. And the tardy bell will soon ring. You know he can't be late. He'll get into trouble, be kicked out, and you also know he'll do anything to avoid being kicked out.”

“Maybe he's sick,” Mary Ann said, not believing her own words. If that were the case, he would have been at the ranch, still in bed. And Victoria was right. Aden was never late to school. Not because he feared being sent away, but because he never missed an opportunity to spend time with his princess. He worshipped the girl.

“I'll hunt him down.” Riley glanced at Mary Ann before she could tell him she would be coming with him. “You'll stay here with Victoria.”

“No, I—”

“I can move faster without you.”

Embarrassing but true. “All right. Fine. Just be careful.”

“Riley,” Victoria began. “I—”

“You'll stay, too,” he reiterated.

With the many creatures that now prowled the streets of their small town, he wouldn't leave Mary Ann without a guard. His protectiveness was as fine a quality as the six-pack on his stomach.

Victoria nodded stiffly. “You're my soldier, you know. You're supposed to obey my orders.”

“I know, but it's my king out there. Sorry to tell you
this, babe, but he now comes first.” With a final glance at Mary Ann, Riley spun on his heel and strode away, soon disappearing into the trees.

A
DEN AWOKE WITH A JOLT
, a shout of pain caught in his throat, wild gaze cataloging his surroundings. Bedroom. Desk. Dresser. Plain white walls. Planked floor.

His
bedroom in the bunkhouse at the ranch, then.

Alive. He was alive, not burned to a crisp. Thank God. But…

Was he intact? He patted himself down while looking himself over. Skin? Check. Smooth and warm, tanned rather than deep-fried. Two arms? Check. Two legs? Check. Most important—was he now a girl? No. Thank God, thank God, thank God. He expelled a sigh of relief, sagged against the mattress and took stock of everything else.

Sweat soaked him. His hair was plastered to his head, and his boxers looked like they'd…like he'd… His cheeks flushed with heat. If Shannon, his roommate, saw him like this, he'd be teased about having a wet dream. Albeit
good-naturedly. That's just what friends did. Still. No, thanks. He—

Saw the bottom of Shannon's bunk, and his eyes widened. There were deep grooves in the wooden slats, as if he'd clawed and kicked at his friend's bed. Repeatedly. He glanced at his fingernails, and sure enough. They were ragged and bloody, with wood shards embedded underneath them.

Great. What else had he done while crashing on vampire blood?

Worry about that later.

“Elijah?” he asked. Time for roll call.

Present,
the psychic said, knowing the drill.

One down. “Julian?” The corpse whisperer, as they called him. A single step into a cemetery, and hello, walking dead.

Here.

Sweet. Two down, one to go. “Caleb?” The body possesser.

Yo.

Rock on. The gang was all here.

Once, Aden had wanted them gone. He loved them, but come on. A little privacy would be nice. But then he'd lost Eve. Her name might have been Anne in her real life, but she'd always be Eve to Aden.

He missed her, his motherly time-traveler. Missed her
terribly. Now he wasn't sure he could deal with losing the others. They were a part of him. His best friends. His constant companions. He
needed
them.

As always, that line of thought made him feel guilty. They deserved their freedom.
Wanted
their freedom. Maybe. Since Eve had left, they hadn't asked him to figure out who they'd been before taking prime real estate in his head, as if they were afraid he would succeed and they, too, would have to leave and experience the unknown.

Where Eve had gone, none of them knew. They only knew that she'd disappeared and hadn't returned.

So what's going on?
Julian asked.

What he means,
Caleb said,
is that our dreams were hot. And not the good kind of hot. We burned, dude. Burned.

And most of us normally don't share your dreams,
Julian added.

Well, Elijah did, but that was because Elijah was psychic and his visions were Aden's. Tonight, last night,
whenever,
hadn't been a vision, though. It had been real, a mind-merge, but now, pieces of his memory were missing. He remembered seeing Victoria, feeling those flames, then meeting her…sisters? Yes, her sisters. But nothing else stood out. The rest of what happened was blurred at the edges, as if his mind couldn't process what it had seen. If that were true, though, why did he
remember being burned alive? Why did they all remember
that?
Shouldn't that be what they forgot? Something too painful to recall?

So?
Julian prompted.
An explanation would be nice.

“Vampire blood,” he reminded them. He couldn't just think his replies because they couldn't hear his inner voice amid the chaos. “We saw through two other sets of eyes.”

Oh, yeah. And speaking of vamps,
Caleb said.
Where's ours?

Victoria, he meant.
She's mine,
Aden wanted to snap, but didn't. Caleb the Pervert couldn't help himself. He lived for girls and “nookie” he might never get. “She's supposed to meet us here and walk to school with us.” What time was it?

Before he could check the clock on his desk, his bedroom door swung open, and Seth and Ryder strode inside.

“—Shannon won't mind,” Seth was saying. Seth Tsang. An Asian last name, though you couldn't tell his race from looking at him. He'd streaked his black hair with red, and had blue eyes and pale skin.

Ryder Jones, who was behind him, arched a brow. He, too, had dark hair, but his eyes were brown. “You sure? You know how possessive that dude is with his stuff.”

Aden grabbed the sheets and jerked them over his sweat-soaked lower body. “Hey, guys. Knock much?”

They ignored him.

“So what're you looking for?” he grumbled.

Again they ignored him. In fact, they didn't even glance in his direction.

“Just check the desk,” Seth told Ryder, and the boy shuffled forward to obey.

Aden frowned. Once, these two had hated him. Once, but no longer. They'd reached a truce after their Treat-Everyone-Like-Crap idol, Ozzie, had been kicked off the ranch—and, as of this weekend, sucked dry by vampires. Not that they knew that part. They were as clueless about the “other” world as he had once been.

So why the silent treatment now?

“Where is it?” Seth muttered, crouching in the closet and rummaging through the clothes on the floor, wrist turning and revealing the snake tattooed there.

“Where's what?” Aden repeated, sitting up.

Yet again, they ignored him.

Shirts and jeans were tossed over Seth's shoulder, followed by shoes. At the desk, papers crunched under Ryder's hands. Several minutes passed. Aden kept up a steady chatter—“this joke isn't funny, try something original, will you just talk to me already?”—to no avail. He finally stood, sheet falling away, forgotten, and stalked to the desk.

With every intention of beating some sense into Ryder, he reached out. Except his hand wisped through the boy's body.

No way. No damn way.

Aden's heart pounded against his ribs as he tried again, shaking this time. Again, his flesh wisped through Ryder's and he could only stand there, wide-eyed and reeling. How was that possible? How
the hell
was that possible? He'd burned to death, yes, but in someone else's body. He'd thought… He'd assumed… Was
he
dead, too? Truly, no-coming-back dead?

No. No way. But… Blood freezing in his veins, he stalked to Seth.

“Found it,” Seth said, standing. He held a book triumphantly in the air. A book about vampires. Any other time, Aden would have floundered over Shannon's chosen reading material. “Shannon's weird, dude. He's always reading this crap. Saves us a trip to the library, but, frickin'
please
. I've never written a report about wackos with fangs before and I don't want to start now.”

“Mr. Thomas is the weird one, my man. We're supposed to write about how evil the bloodsuckers are, like they're real or something. I can't take that crank seriously, you know. I'll probably fail, but ask me if I care.”

His shaking intensifying, Aden tried to wrap his fingers around Seth's wrist. Nothing. No solid contact. Bile
burned a path up his throat. His arm thudded heavily to his side, and he stumbled backward, black winking over his eyes, dizziness rushing through his head.

The answer to his question? Dead. He was really dead. That was the only answer that made sense.

The boys raced from the room, mumbling about stupid new tutors and dumb homework assignments. Aden just stood there. Doomed to live the rest of eternity as a ghost?

God, was this how the souls felt? Trapped, out of control, lost?

“Guys,” he whispered, not knowing how to begin. If he was a ghost, he couldn't help them figure out who they'd been in their other life. And if he couldn't help them figure out who they'd been, they could never be free of him. If that's what they still wanted. “I think—I—This is—”

“Hello, Aden.”

The male voice came from behind him, and he spun. There, in the doorway, was the D and M's brand-new tutor. Not for him or Shannon since they attended Crossroads High, but for all the others. Mr. Thomas had shown up the day of the Vampire Ball, and Dan had hired him on sight. Which was completely unlike Aden's guardian. No background check, no intensive interview, just, “You're perfect!”

Even weirder, the boys acted like they'd known him
forever, already comfortable complaining about him. Aden hadn't met the man officially, but Victoria had secretly pointed him out. Mr. Thomas, as it turned out, was not a let's-all-learn-and-grow kind of tutor. He was a fairy and Victoria's enemy, here to find out who was helping her.

The man didn't look like Aden's idea of a fairy—small, female and winged. Instead, he was tall, lean, his skin golden and even a bit glittery (okay,
that
was fairylike). And never had Aden seen a more perfect face. There wasn't a single flaw. Perfectly spaced blue eyes, a perfectly sloped nose, perfect lips neither too full nor too thin.

And it was embarrassing as hell that Aden had noticed. Anyone found out, and they'd take away his man card or something.

“You can see me?” He gulped. “Hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I…dead?” Saying the word was more difficult than thinking it. And how could the fairy see and hear what Seth and Ryder hadn't been able to?

A chuckle rumbled from the fairy, almost like a thrum of a harp. “Hardly. You're…somewhere else.”

He wished he could take comfort from that. “Somewhere else?” When everything looked the same? “Okay. Where am I? How'd I get here?” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “What's going on?”

Aden,
Elijah said, and there was a warning in his tone.
I have a bad feeling about this.

Dread instantly filled him. Elijah's bad feelings were, well,
bad
.

“So many questions.” The man
tsk
ed. He waved to the chair at the desk. “Sit, please, and I will endeavor to answer you. After you answer me, of course.”

What should have been a simple request struck Aden as a threat. And with Elijah's wariness, he suspected a fight would soon break out. He did a weapons check. He had nothing on him, but there were knives hidden in his boots. Boots he wasn't wearing and might not be able to touch. Boots that were…tucked neatly beside the bed, he saw.

“Sit, Aden.” Two words, both layered with authority.

This time Aden sat. Without going for those blades. He didn't want to play his (potential) ace unless absolutely necessary.

Blood will run before this meeting ends,
Elijah said.

Ours?
Caleb asked with annoyance and a hint of fear.
'Cause I like ours and don't want to give up a single drop
.

“My name is Mr. Thomas,” the man said before Elijah could respond, walking forward and stopping only a few feet away from Aden's chair. He anchored his hands behind his back and braced his legs apart. A war stance.

Aden knew it well. He'd stood that way many times—just before launching himself at the person threatening him.
Concentrate.
The plain, ordinary name didn't fit the man's smooth features in any way, and had to be an alias. If it wasn't, Aden would plant a big, fat wet one right on his lips.

“You want answers,” he said, wondering,
About what?
“Then you'll have to tell me what I want to know. First. How are we here but not here? How am I alive but invisible?”

There were several beats of heavy silence. At first he thought Thomas meant to strike him for using his own tactics against him. With every second that passed, fury grew in those blue eyes. Fury and indignation.

Finally, though, the fairy said, “Your people would call this place another dimension, though it is the true realm of the Fae.” Despite his expression, his words were calmly stated.

Fae had to mean fairy. And another…dimension? Was that even possible? As soon as the question hit him, he wanted to roll his eyes at his own stupidity. After everything he'd seen and done recently,
anything
was possible. “So, just to clarify, I'm not dead?”

“This constant need for reassurance is tiresome, so listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself again. You are very much alive.
But
you are in another dimension, therefore humans cannot see or hear you.”

If Thomas was to be believed, Aden wasn't a ghost. He could return to Victoria, to his friends. “And you brought me here?” A croak.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Another tension-laden pause stretched between them. Clearly, getting answers was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Because,” Thomas finally said on a sigh, “I had met all the students—but you.”

There at the end, the fury had returned to the man's eyes, this time blended with disgust.

Oh, yes. Blood will run,
Elijah said on a trembling breath.

“From a knife?”
Please, please don't say from a knife
.

Don't know,
was the reply.
Can only see the river of red
.

“What do you mean, from a knife?” Thomas demanded.

He must not know of Aden's reputation as the boy who always talked to “himself.” “Sorry. I wasn't speaking to you.”

“Then to whom were you speaking?”

A question he'd been asked a thousand times by a thousand different people.

Maybe
we
should. Run, I mean,
Caleb said, all his bravado gone.
Before we bleed.

I'm with Caleb. It's not like we know how to fight a fairy
.

Caleb suddenly snickered, amusement momentarily obliterating distress.
Fight a fairy
.
Do you hear yourself, Jules?