The Haunted (8 page)

I held it to my cheek. The glass was cold and gentle.
Like a dying lover’s kiss.

I threw it to the floor. It was making me crazy. These were irrational thoughts and feelings. What was I doing? It was haunting me.

Huddling back under my covers, I squeezed my eyes closed.
Sleep. Go to sleep.
Everything would be better in the morning. I just needed sleep. My head nestled deeper into the pillow, and I slipped down into a dream.

Wind blew my hair into my face, and I laughed out loud as I tried to shove the black curls away. The radio blasted out a rhythm of earth-shaking bass beats and soaring guitar riffs as we raced down the highway. Eyes closed, I leaned my head back and felt the vibrations moving through my entire body. My toes curled in my boots and tingled with pleasure.

Throwing my arms wide, I caught the breeze and rode the wind. There was no barrier between the sky and me. We were one.

A shriek of pure joy escaped my lips, and I felt as light as air. If I wanted to, any second now I could float away, out of the car. The music was the only thing holding me down. The only thing anchoring my soul.

A hand reached out and caught mine. Our fingertips snagged, intertwined. I turned my head and held that hand close to my cheek. When my eyes opened, there was no surprise as I registered brown eyes. Curly brown hair.

No surprise… but no heat, either.

Ben grinned at me, and the wild music faltered, sputtered out. Only for a second, but it happened.

“Let’s take a break, babe,” he called.

I nodded. The music played on. A different song now, but one with the same driving urgency behind it. The car slowed and came to a stop. I looked down, surprised to see that we weren’t in Ben’s green Jeep, but in a red sports car instead.

The scenery around us shimmered and changed from an endless orange desert to a fifties-style silver boxcar diner. We were inside now, and I took in the kitschy decor.

Plastic-covered menus, their sides greasy and flecked with dried bits of food, sat on round red vinyl tables. The floor was covered in black-and-white-checkered linoleum with curled and peeling edges. A jukebox was on, and the song “I Only Have Eyes for You” echoed through the small room.

Ben grabbed my hand again and flipped it over, palm side up. He began to trace it, following the lines that crisscrossed there. A sense of déjà vu came over me, and my stomach tied in knots and dropped to the floor.

I jerked my hand away.
I should tell him not to… not to… something.
I had to tell him something.

But then he smiled at me, and all my misgivings vanished. “Want to dance?”

Of course. This was happy. This was fun.

… right?

He pulled me close, and suddenly the music was louder, completely enveloping us. I glanced around and noticed that the diner was empty. No waitresses, no staff, not even any other customers.

He steered us to a corner. Hidden from view of the register, the counter, even the kitchen, it was our own private stage. The music pushed in, crowding around us and filling my ears. My head ached at the sound of it. Over and over again, the same song played.

Ben spun me once, and I landed against the wall. Dizzy and out of breath. He came closer. “You’re so beautiful, Abbey. Have I ever told you that? I don’t know.…”

Those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I closed my eyes. Was
this
the feeling I’d been waiting for? His feet nudged mine as he slid one leg closer. I pressed my back to the wall and arched my spine. I don’t know why I did it, but it felt good… right.

He accepted my wordless invitation and came up flush against me. I blushed when I looked down and realized I was straddling his leg.

I started to move away, pull back.…

“Don’t,” he whispered, catching both of my hands, pinning them to the wall on either side of me. “Stay.…”

I was helpless in his grip. I didn’t feel trapped, yet he was holding me in place. Bending down, he started kissing my neck, and my knees went limp.

“Abbey, Abbey… ,” he said.

The music flared and then died down to a low buzz. It was like it was playing directly on a soundtrack inside my brain. Again and again the loop repeated: “I only have eyes… for you… for you… for you…”

His murmurs bled together, and I closed my eyes again, feeling the beat of my heart thumping in tune with his words. “Abbey… Abbey… Abbey…

“Astrid.”

My eyes flew open, and I held desperately still.
What did he say? What did he just call me?

Ben must have felt my body go rigid, because he raised his head too.

“What did you…”—I licked lips gone instantly dry—“say?”

“Abbey,” he replied, clearly puzzled. “I called you Abbey.”

I held his gaze and searched his eyes, looking for something… anything.

He smiled at me again and leaned in until his lips were just a fraction of an inch away from mine. “Do you prefer Goddess? Light of my life? All that I desire? I’ll gladly name you any of those things.”

That shiver came back again. This was what I wanted. This was real, and I wanted it.…
Him.

I slid my hands out from underneath his and wrapped them around his neck.

“I like Goddess,” I whispered back.

He grinned, a very sexy grin. “Goddess it is.” And then his eyes changed to green.

I slammed back against the wall, wrenching myself away from him. Horror clawed its way up from the pit of my stomach and lodged in my throat.

Brown eyes gazed at me in concern.

“Abbey, what’s—”

“Why did you do that?!” I screeched.

“Do what?” he asked.

Change your eyes to green!
my mind screamed.
You changed your eyes!
But I couldn’t force the words past the lump in my throat.

I took in every square inch of his face. It was
his
face. Not Caspian’s. It was just me and Ben. Here. Together. Didn’t I want this? This was
normal.
I was being normal.

I took a step closer and threw my arms around him again. “Forget it,” I whispered in his ear. “Bad memory. Now, where were we?”

He turned his head and our lips met. I pushed away the feeling that I was doing something wrong. Reaching up, I threaded my fingers through his hair. But instead of curly, his hair was long and smooth.

It flashed in and out before me. Changing from dark brown to that shocking, shocking pale blond. I moaned from the confusion and frustration of it all, and Ben moaned too. Then deepened the kiss.

I was frozen in place when his eyes changed again.
Green eyes, blond hair.
A strand of black appeared, and my stomach dipped. My blood pressure soared. I was hot and achy and feverish.
Caspian.
He was what I wanted.

I lost control. Only for a second, but I wanted to feel him. To taste him.

I crushed my mouth to his and teased the edge of his lips with my tongue. Instantly, he granted me entry, and the back of my brain exploded from the pleasure. There was no mistaking it.
This
was the reprieve I sought so desperately.

My eyes fluttered open and shut while Caspian weaved in and out of existence.

Brown eyes, brown hair.

Ben…

Green eyes. Blond hair.

Caspian…

Green… brown…

I caught myself. Was this wrong? To use Ben this way?
Yes.
I knew the answer to that question was a thousand times yes.

Tearing myself away, this time for good, I stepped out of his arms
and away from the wall. “I can’t… I’m sorry.” And then I was running.

Out of the diner, out to the car. I jumped in the passenger seat and put my head between my knees.

I was going crazy… again.

Ben came bursting out of the diner and called my name. I raised my head and lifted a hand—whether to call him over or warn him to stay away, I didn’t know. But suddenly the car roared to life.

Caspian was sitting in the driver’s seat.

I did a double take to make sure it wasn’t really Ben doing that weird flashing again, but Ben was still by the diner. We peeled out of the gravel driveway, spitting stones as we went, and I noticed that my hand was still up. Now it was catching the wind again.…

“What’s happening?” I choked out. My throat was dry and scratchy. “Why is this happening to me?”

Caspian didn’t answer; instead he turned on the radio. A violin wept in sadness. “Don’t you know, my love?” a female voice crooned, soft and full of emotion. “Would you die, my love? I am waiting, waiting for you. These ashes turned bone. Waiting, waiting for you. Waiting… waiting for you.”

As the violin echoed the singer’s dying last words, Caspian turned his gaze to mine and looked straight into my eyes. “I’m waiting, waiting for you.”

˜   ˜   ˜

I sat up straight, chest heaving, breath sawing in and out of me. Shoving heavy fistfuls of damp hair away from my face, I tried to slow everything down. My pulse was raging and it felt like I had a fever. And then I had a crazy thought.

I swung my legs out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and switched on the light. Of course my hair wasn’t windblown. My lips weren’t bruised and looking like they’d just been kissed.

But my eyes were wide, and my cheeks were pale. I pinched some color into them and leaned over the sink, replaying that crazy dream.

Was I having another breakdown? Or was my subconscious trying to tell me something?

I stood there a minute longer and then went back to the bedroom. But one glance at my rumpled sheets and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep again anytime soon. My foot bumped the necklace on the floor, but I gave it a sharp kick under the bed. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist.

I turned on my desk light and moved over to my new perfume cabinet. Reaching into the desk drawer, I pulled out a pen, a pair of scissors, and some unused paper that looked like old parchment. Then I opened my supply briefcase. Starting with the bottom row first, I made a label for each tiny bottle
so that it would have its own drawer in the cabinet.

As I copied the names, the haunting melody of a violin echoed in my ears, and I started thinking about the sample notes of a perfume to match it.

Lavender. Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Wild violets. Something with just a hint of longing and heartbreak. Old roses left on a lover’s grave. A wilted carnation pressed between the pages of a prom program. Forgotten baby’s breath hastily discarded along with the bouquet’s green wax paper…

Jotting down possible formulations on a piece of the parchment paper, I came up with the perfect name for this new fragrance. I’d call it Ashes Turned Bone.

Later that morning I filled my cereal bowl and drank down a large glass of juice along with a cup of tea. I hadn’t been back to bed since the dream, but I felt oddly exhilarated in spite of my exhaustion. My fingers were itching to get back to my perfumes upstairs.

Mom entered the kitchen and made a pit stop at the coffeemaker before sitting down next to me. “Hungry?”

I smiled at her. “Working on a new perfume.”

She smiled back, a genuinely happy smile, and I could see the relief in her eyes that I was working with my perfumes again. “What’s the inspiration?”

Ashes, bones, haunting music, lost love.
Probably not the answer she was looking for. “Violins.” I bit into a piece of toast and crunched loudly.

“Ooh, I get it. Strings, old wood, and furniture polish?”

“Right.”
Hmmm…
Actually, now that I thought about it, that wasn’t a bad combo. I should make that one too.

“Oh, hey, guess what,” I said, suddenly remembering my recent conversation with Mr. Knickerbocker. “You know how I had to drop my books back off at school?”

Mom nodded.

“I talked to Mr. Knickerbocker while I was there about what I could do to help improve my chem grade.”

Now she looked intrigued.

“My friend Ben, the one who was my science-fair partner and is supersmart, offered to tutor me. Then I’m going to take a test at the end of summer, and that will help average out my numbers.” I left out the whole by-the-way-my-entire-year’s-grade-is-riding-on-the-test thing.

“So it’s going to be just you and Ben?” Mom asked. “Where is this tutoring going to be taking place?”

I hadn’t thought about that. “Um, I guess here? That would probably be the easiest.”

Her face turned disapproving. “And how often?”

“A couple of times a week?” I thought she’d be happy about this, but she was looking decidedly
un
happy. Time to do some damage control. “It was really sweet of Ben to say that he’ll tutor me. He already has a job at the Horseman’s Haunt, plus he’s going to be helping out his dad with some farm stuff.”

She looked impressed. “He
was
a very polite young man when your father and I met him.” Then she nodded. “And you’re almost seventeen. It’s hardly like you’d need a babysitter.”

I smiled to myself. I was
good
.

C
HNOPS AND
S
HOPS