A Want So Wicked (16 page)

I see Charlotte.

Shocked, I step back, nearly falling into the bathtub. I steady myself against the tile wall with my hand, my heart pounding in my chest. The mirror regains its focus—but it doesn't erase the knowledge flowing in—the unstoppable force growing inside me.

I'm Elise Landon now, but I wasn't always. I was Charlotte Cassidy. And as a Forgotten I saved people. I helped them.

Tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I'm struck with an acute sense of loss. The heaviness breaks through my chest, and I collapse onto the floor as the emotions crush me.

I remember Mercy, my adoptive mother, and how she found me all alone as a little girl. She raised me as her own, loved me as her own. But then—like everyone else—she forgot me. “Oh, Ma,” I whisper, wishing for just another minute with her. Wishing I could have told her how much I loved her.

The other pieces flow back: my time with Sarah, with Alex. The way they stared at me as if they'd never known me. I remember Monroe picking me up after all of my skin had worn away, and how he helped me hide it.

And of course there was Harlin. There is always Harlin.

I remember standing on the railing of the Rose City Bridge, looking behind me to the choppy water, terrified of what would happen if I jumped. But more afraid of what would happen if I stayed. And so when it was time to let go, I did just that. I gave myself to the light. I gave up everything.

My body shakes with sobs and I cover my face with my hands, bringing my knees toward my chest as I curl up on the bathroom floor. I'm ragged and broken, and barely able to breathe.

Because, worst of all, I remember every second of what it was like to lose my life.

CHAPTER 26

I
'm not sure how long I lay there, but when I hear footsteps in the hallway I know I have to leave. It's like I have two histories—that of Charlotte and that of Elise. But I am Elise. Even though the universe allowed for my existence, bending and creating this body and my past, it doesn't make my life any less real. It's all me.

I don't know what happened when I jumped off the Rose City Bridge nine months ago, but I know I left—left for what feels like forever. Now I'm compelled forward to find Onika. But first I need Monroe. I have an idea.

When I ease open the bathroom door, the hallway is deserted, the moving boxes still where my father left them a month ago. There's a pang of sadness when I think that I wasn't really always with him, although it feels that way to all of us.

The house is quiet, but little pinpricks break over my skin. A tingling of fear. I swallow hard and slip into my bedroom to grab a coat just in case. I'm not sure when I'll get back here. I'm not sure of what's going to happen now.

I rush back out into the hallway and stagger to a stop. Lucy stands, blocking my way, wearing a long black dress. Her skin is like porcelain with a dusting of blush high on her cheeks. I'd call her beautiful, but I know what she is now.

“You're running out in the middle of the night? That is so unlike you,” she says with a small smile.

“I'm meeting Harlin,” I reply, trying to sound natural so she'll let me leave.

There's the click of the front door opening and I'm suddenly terrified of what will happen when Lucy sees my father. But she just chuckles, looking back over her shoulder. And then I see why.

Abe's shiny black shoes tap on the tile as he approaches, handsome as ever. A wry grin settles on his lips as he walks up behind my sister, placing his hands possessively on her shoulders.

My expression falters, although I try to stay calm. Every inch of me is petrified of him.

“You're not happy to see me,” Abe teases, moving past my sister as he approaches me. “No hug?”

I take a step back and he halts, his eyes narrowing. “Leave,” he murmurs to Lucy. My sister nods. With the Need gone, her personality has shifted into something much darker. Knowing my past, I can understand that she's angry about having to give everything up. But it would have been better than becoming the damned.

“You lovebirds have fun,” she calls. “I'll lock the door on my way out.”

When I hear the dead bolt, my body begins to tremble. I hold Abe's gaze, refusing to become his possession.

“Who are you?” he asks then, irritation in his voice.

“Elise Landon.”

“Let me rephrase,” he says. “What are you?”

“Just a girl—”

Abe growls and reaches out to grab me by the upper arms, his nails digging in and making me wince. As he touches me, though, a slow realization slides over his face. “That's why you're so bright,” he says. “But how? Souls can't return.”

As a Shadow, Abe can infect others with just a whisper, a touch. But I won't let him trick me into trusting him this time.

“Well, I guess I'm special or something,” I say. And before he can respond, I bring my knee up hard, nailing him in the thigh. He yells out and I push him enough to move sideways, slipping inside my bedroom before slamming the door. My fingers are shaking so badly it takes three tries to turn the lock.

Silence.

Unlike Onika on the bridge, Abe isn't trying to tempt me away from the light; he can't. Instead he wants to keep me as a prisoner, bending me to his will for as long as he can. I know he won't stop until he has me.

I take a steadying breath, pulling myself together. I glance toward my window, wondering if I should try to escape. I'm not sure I'll even make it across the lawn before he catches me.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I freeze at the sound of an impatient finger on the door. “Elise,” he says. “You know I can just come in, right? That your lock won't work?”

“Please don't,” I say. “Just leave me alone.”

I hear him exhale. “I wish I could. You should have come to me willingly.”

“Please . . .”

The door opens smoothly, like it was never locked in the first place. Abe stands there, still dressed in black, but now his face is different. It's no longer handsome. It's dead and gray, fine cracks in it like the dried desert floor.

He seems almost offended as I recoil. “I tried to charm you first,
querida
. It's your own fault that you have to see me like this. The others never fight.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. I think of Onika and how she never let others see her—only me. But Abe hasn't hidden himself. He's still acting out his old existence.

“I'm not done,” he says simply. “My life was taken from me, as was yours. As was Lucy's. As were all of the Forgotten's. I made the choice to stay, and Elise—” He steps closer. “I plan to do just that. Stay. Take what I want. And what I want . . . is you.”

“I can't help you now,” I say. “I can't guide you or bring you into the light.”

“I know that,” he shoots back. “But you're filled with more light than any Forgotten I've ever met. You can handle the Shadow, you can stay bright, even next to me. You make me feel warm. When the time comes, I won't let you cross. You'll learn to love me back, and then we can spend the rest of time here. It will all be ours.”

I stare at him, amazed that he believes this. Light and Shadows can't mix, but he obviously missed that memo. His eyes are earnest, as if having me by his side will make up for all the horrible things he's done, things he will do. He's a Shadow—by definition he spreads misery.

“No,” I say. “I don't want you anywhere near me.”

That seems to wound him. “I was kind to you,” he snaps. “I made it as easy as possible. I was
careful
.” The cracks in his skin widen as his anger grows. And before I realize what's happening, a vision from Abe's mind slides in.

It's late at night in the desert, the remains of a campfire glowing red, the tents silent around it. I see Abe approach one of them, his shoes quiet on the sandy ground. He pauses, as if waiting for someone. Just then, Marissa stumbles out. She looks as if she's been crying.

“You came back,” she says.

“I always come back. You know that.”

She nods and crosses over to him, putting her arms around his waist and hugging him. Abe brushes his fingers through her hair.

“You love me so much,” he whispers. “You love me so much that it makes you sick.”

At that moment, Marissa turns away, retching and convulsing. Abe smiles. “Remember that time,” he begins, “when you told me that I didn't have a chance with someone like you? When was it? A year, two years ago?” She slowly lifts her head to meet his gaze. “Then you started dreaming about me,” he continues. “You tried to run. But I got you back. Next thing you knew, you were calling me, following me. You were completely crazy for me. You let me do whatever I wanted to you.”

Tears run down Marissa's cheeks. “And what do you want now?” she asks.

Abe shrugs. “You've outgrown your uses, Riss. And now I just want you to jump off that cliff. It's so much easier, don't you think?”

“No,” Marissa murmurs, tears wet on her cheeks. “Please, no.”

“Shh . . .” Abe hooks his finger under her chin as he beckons her up. When she's standing, he kisses her softly, almost sweetly. When he pulls back, her eyes are glazed over, almost dreamlike. “You were a fun toy,” Abe says affectionately. “But you're broken. I need something new, and I won't have you ruin that for me. Now”—he opens his arms wide and steps back—“go on and jump.”

My eyes flutter open and I gasp, horrified by what I've seen. “You killed her,” I say, fresh fear pulling at my chest. “You killed Marissa.”

“I had no choice,” Abe says. “As Marceline would say, she was my Want. I was compelled—had been for a while. If anything, she should have been grateful. She'd been meaning to kill herself for months.”

“You're a monster.”

“Not completely. But I will take you by force, if I have to.”

Abe reaches out and grabs my wrist, wrenching me painfully closer. He stares down into my eyes, the lines in his chin smoothing until he's handsome once again. “I can make you believe anything I want,” he whispers. “But I know you hate being manipulated. So this once . . . I won't. Just so long as you don't fight.”

And then he leans forward to kiss me.

 

I'm wearing a winter jacket but still shaking uncontrollably as I get into Lucy's car. It's nearly three in the morning and my father never came home. I'm hoping he fell asleep on the couch in his office. I don't want him anywhere near our house right now. My fingers almost can't turn on the ignition, but when they do, I back out of my driveway—lucky my sister left her car behind at all.

Abe took just one kiss from me, one that seemed to rob me of all the warmth I had left. Shadows and light can't be close. So when he touches me, touches me as himself and not as the vision he projects—it hurts. It rips me open, cutting through my soul. If he wanted, he could whisper to take away the pain, but he didn't this time. This time he let me writhe as his darkness fed on me.

And then he left me crying on the bedroom floor.

I'm incredibly weak when I pull into the lot of the Sunset Motel. Harlin's motorcycle is parked in front of his room—room 126. With considerable effort, I turn off the car, nearly dropping the keys as I climb out. I stumble to his door and put my hand against it, fingers spread to rest for a second.

I knock softly.

When the door opens, Harlin is there in just his boxers, his hair messy from sleep. He looks stunned to see me.

“Elise, what's wrong?” He brings me in quickly, locking the door behind us. His room isn't nearly as neat as it was the first time I came to his motel. Pages from his sketch pad are scattered on the bed, crumples of paper on the floor.

Although my teeth chatter, warmth is slowly returning, the light never truly abandoning me. Even now it pulses under my skin with energy.

Harlin watches, filled with concern, and I remember everything about us. How he cried for me on the bridge, how he kissed me just yesterday. Harlin found me. Harlin will always find me.

There's too much between us, secrets and lies, but beyond that is unconditional love and the belief that we're meant only for each other. No matter how short that time is.

I step forward and wrap my arms around Harlin, resting my head against his chest. He staggers a step at first, but then he hugs me back tightly, like he'll never let me go again.

“I remember,” I whisper into his skin. “I remember everything.”

Harlin lays his cheek on the top of my head, but doesn't respond. Instead he holds me close, strong and protective. I close my eyes, sad about what I have to say next.

“I saw Lucy,” I tell him.

There's a long silence. “And?” he asks.

“She's a Shadow.” I choke on the words. Despite what Lucy has become, she's still my sister. Only now she's left to rot, having been convinced to turn her back on hope. “Abe turned her,” I say. “And then he came for me. He kissed me.”

Harlin's entire body tenses, his muscles rigid. “I'm going to kick his ass for touching you,” he growls. “And for wrecking my bike.”

“I'm glad I came first in that sentence.”

“Baby, you always come first. And I don't care what Abe is—I'm going to kill him.”

“You could never kill anything,” I say.

“Oh, I'll make an exception just this once.”

Harlin's homicidal urges slowly start to fade, and he gets me a cup of water and has me sip from it, noting that the color is returning to my skin. We sit on the bed, quiet until there's a sharp knock at the adjoining door. The clock reads four a.m.

“I can't even begin to handle Monroe Swift right now,” Harlin says, rubbing his face. “But I'm guessing you're here to talk to him too.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Harlin stands, shooting me a helpless glance before opening the door.

Monroe is there, buttoning his blue collared shirt. “Thank you,” he says, not looking up. “Now, I know it's early, but I thought I should—” He lifts his head and stops when he sees me sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Monroe Swift has taken care of me—Charlotte—since I was seven years old. A family friend, a father figure, a Seer—he's known me longer and better than anyone. Monroe is not just family, not just friend. He remembers me. And other than Harlin, he's the only person who knows Charlotte ever existed.

“She remembers,” Harlin says before going to lean against the dresser. “She remembers everything, which I'm sure includes how obnoxious you can be.”

“Ah, well, that's good,” Monroe says. “That way we can skip the formalities.” He eases down next to me on the bed and exhales heavily. Harlin and I exchange worried looks.

“How are you, sweetheart?” Monroe asks me once he's settled. I reach out impulsively and hug him, feeling how frail he's become. The idea of Monroe dying terrifies me, as if I'll somehow be alone without him. We stay like that for a long minute before he straightens, looking embarrassed that I'd fuss over him.

“It's fascinating, really,” he says, running his gaze over me. “That you're a different person and yet still so lovely.”

I close my eyes against the tears welling up. “I need your help, Monroe,” I tell him. “I have two Shadows after me, one who wants to kill me, another who wants to keep me. And I want to get rid of them both.” Monroe looks as if he's about to argue, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “I know you hate Onika, but you didn't always. I saw that. I had an idea earlier—that maybe if you could remember what it was like to love her, you can see how to stop her.”