Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3) (28 page)

Fallon mouths
I’m sorry
as they head out the door.

I wrap an arm around my sister’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. But she had it backward. It’s Jax who’s going to die.” She speeds out the door before I can stop her.

The air outside is stilted, unusually warm with the flush of ozone scenting the vicinity as storm clouds ready to unleash.

Winter formal rages on as I step onto the courtyard of Dickenson Hall and head toward the shadowed woods. A few bodies linger near the building, a set of two couples with their arms locked around one another, and, for a moment, I’m envious. I want that. Tragically, I want it with both Wes and Coop.

Jen’s words come back to me. I’d better pray that either Coop or Wes does something unforgiveable. A rattle of a laugh dies in my chest. I can’t imagine either Coop or Wes hurting me in any way. Wes is slowly slitting the throat of our relationship with the Counts, but Coop is stealth.

An owl cries through the damp night as I make my way to an overgrown oak.

“Coop?” I whisper in hope he’s in the vicinity. I should never have taken my time with Jen. He probably thinks I’ve ditched him. Maybe he ditched
me
and went home?

The crush of leaves disrupts the silence from just a few feet away.

“Cooper?” I make my way over as the footsteps quicken in my direction. The music from the hall dissipates from behind as if it were coming from another world entirely, a dream. A gurgle comes from up ahead, then the distinct sound of choking. “Coop, is that you?”

“Laken!” My name echoes from the brick walkway, loud and bold, and unmistakably from Cooper.

I dash out of the woods and flag him down as he nearly passes me by.

“Laken.” He practically tackles me, out of breath, his arms locked tight around my waist. “You’re okay.” He presses a kiss over my forehead and engulfs me in a hard embrace.

“Coop, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

He pulls back, taking me in under the depressed light, and his lips curve at the tips.

“First, I want to tell you how breathtaking you are. You are stunning, Laken. You know that?”

Something in my chest loosens, and a peace that surpasses all understanding takes over. His eyes lend me a smile all their own. His lips look lush and soft, and it takes an enormous amount of willpower not to hike up on my tiptoes and kiss them. But a very grounded part of me knows what needs to happen next.

“Thank you.” I cinch my hands around his hips. “And I’m sorry for everything that’s happened tonight.” My lips press together to keep from trembling.

“No.” His eyes close a moment. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m afraid I hurt you.”

“Not true.” He touches his forehead to mine. “I swear it, I want you to be happy, and if Wes makes you happy then I want that for you, too.”

Our eyes lock, neither of one of us breathes.

A guttural growl emits from deep within the woods. We look over into the infinite expanse of evergreens covered in a sheet of darkness, the monsters that live within them waiting to devour us.

“We need to go.” He grips me by the elbow and starts pulling me onto the brick pathway.

“
Wait
.” I pull him back a moment. “
You
make me happy, Coop.” Every molecule in my body sings when I say it. The sky lights up a moment as if to testify to the fact.

A smile edges on his lips. Coop leans in and touches his finger to my nose, then down to my lips.

“I’m glad.” He offers another quick embrace and buries a kiss over the back of my head. “Let’s go.” He pulls me along with his arm wrapped low on my hips as we speed toward the student parking lot.

“What’s going on?”

“Wes is killing the Spectators tonight.” He unlocks his truck.

Shit. “What are we going to do?”

Coop pulls his backpack from off the driver’s side before riffling through it. He pulls out a short, stalky gun I remember from the time I inadvertently shot Jones—a bastardized Ruger. He pulls another out of his backpack because, apparently, they’re multiplying.

“So what’s the plan?” I pant while loading the Ruger.

“You kill Wes, and I’ll stop the Spectators.” He snaps the bastardized magazine into place, and I catch him by the wrist.

“I’m not killing Wes.”

“Then I will.”

Cooper

Dickenson Hall vibrates to some auto-tuned disaster as Laken and I dive deeper into the woods. The quiet of the forest displaces the sound of bad music, and soon the only thing left to hear is the crush of pine needles beneath our feet.

Her fingers tighten over mine as I lead us deeper into the back of the woods about a half mile down to the tangle of bushes where I know for a fact Flynn is holding court with his cadaverous harem.

Laken squeezes my hand. “We can’t kill Wes.” The words thread between us lower than a whisper, almost half-hearted.

“I know.”

“What exactly is Wes planning, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Edinger said it was going down tonight. We need to find Flynn.” I pluck a small whistle from my pocket and give three shrill cries into the woods. “Let’s give him a minute to get his pants up.”

“Some things never change.” Laken shivers while trying to warm herself with her hands.

“Here.” I start to take off my jacket.

“No.” She helps pull it back over my shoulders and smooths her fingers across my chest. “I’ll be fine. Besides, if we need to run…”

Crap. Here I am putting her directly in harm’s way.

“Let me take you back. You can take my keys and drive to my house—hangout with Marky and my dad.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you.”

The woods light up with a putrid stench, as a trio of shadows stagger over.

“Flynn?”

He lets out three quick grunts—a signal system we managed to work out the last time we met. They step into our midst, and the dim light settles over their disheveled hair, their features look as if they’ve met up with a cheese grater. Flynn comes in close and holds out his arm.

“Dude, you look and smell like shit,” I say, clasping my hand over his.

Likewise. But tell Laken she looks fucking hot, and as soon as I get my body back in shape, she can look forward to a little mattress rodeo coming her way
. A bug crawls from the side of his lips.

“Flynn says, hi.” I nod over to Laken, and she touches her hand to mine in an effort to tune into the perverted conversation. “Look”—I lean into Flynn and his mouthful of maggots—“it’s zero hour, dude. The Counts are coming. I’m taking you and your friends to the Transfer. Ezrina might have enough juice to bring a couple of you back, but we have to leave now.”

Flynn grunts something out to the bedraggled ladies by his side. I’m pretty sure the one to his left is Hattie, at least I’m hoping it is. Those Tobias sisters owe us a two-way trip into the Celestra Tunnels for all we’ve done for them.

The one to his right howls as if she’s having her teeth pulled, that is, if she has any left.

Flynn snatches onto her arm and roars something in her face, and she roars right back.

“Crap,” Laken whispers. “Tell him to put his balls away. This isn’t the time to pick a fight.”

“I don’t think he’s picking a fight.” I watch as she tries to make a run for it, and he pulls her in. A horrible scream rips from her throat as she sucker punches Flynn with her free hand and takes off like a bullet back from where they came.

“What was that about?”

Flynn holds out his arm, and both Laken and I latch on.

She’s pissed, dude. She knows this shit is about to get real, and she wanted to let the others in on it. Not a single Spectator wants to die. Out here there are no factions, all that Celestra verses Countenance bullshit no longer flies. It’s just one big brotherhood. It’s beautiful man. The world needs us. The factions need us. You can’t let them kill us, Coop. Hell,
we
won’t let them kill us.

“What does that mean?” My jaw tightens because I think I know.

A wild howl sets the night on fire before Flynn can answer.

It’s already happening.

The ground trembles, a growling echo drums through the woods as the clatter gets closer and closer like a terrible earthquake.

“What’s happening?” Laken shouts it over to Flynn.

This is the war the Spectators have been waiting for.

“Where are they headed?” I pant as the thunder of a thousand pissed off Spectators draw ever so close.

Ephemeral.

Laken and I race to Dickenson Hall. I gave strict orders for Flynn to stay the hell away from danger and head to the boulders with Hattie if he ever intended to join the land of the living again.

“What are we going to tell them?” Laken’s fingers dig into my arm as we head toward the bustling building. “I don’t think the truth is going to work.”

“A good number of people know what a Spectator is. Maybe the sheer panic to get the hell out of here will inspire the rest of them to take cover.”

Grayson and Kresley are in the courtyard with their legs kicked out, their hands on their hips like a couple of hookers.

“You guys have to leave,” Laken blurts out. “The Spectators are coming!”

Kresley knocks her head back and laughs. “You wish. If this is your idea of some sick prank, I suggest you think again. I’m pretty tight with Ms. Paxton, and from what I hear, you’re just one more stupid stunt away from a permanent expulsion.”

“Oh,
please
”—Grayson holds back a grin—“by all means create a hysteria.” She winks over at me. “With Laken gone, we can focus on far more important things, like each other.”

“Let’s go.” I pull Laken into the facility, and the riot of noise clutters up my ears. I give her fingers a squeeze.
We can’t get separated
.

Laken shakes her head.

“Coop, I can’t hear you anymore.”

Shit.

“I’m not leaving your side, Laken!” The music cuts out just as I shout the words, and the entire room turns to look at us. Then I go for it. “I love you, Laken.” I say it quieter, for her ears only, but selfishly a part of me wanted to do it right here in front of the entire student population.

The music kicks up again, obnoxiously loud as if the room were being detonated by way of exceptionally bad music.

Laken leans in and whispers directly into my ear, “I love you, too, Coop.” She dots a kiss just shy of my temple.

Her gaze freezes over mine as our lips edge into a shy, simultaneous smile.

The floor shakes beneath us, and an iced chill travels down my spine. We bolt over to the where the DJ sits, smoking his electric cigarette, and I shout over at him to cut the noise.

He holds up his hands. “Dude, you better back the hell off. If you have a song request, just write it on that paper.” He points to the table, and I turn the whole thing over without hesitating, but the music keeps firing from the speakers like a machine gun blast.