(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon (2 page)

Every sound becomes louder as my breath softens in hesitation. I expect him to run from the woods any moment, leash and collar in hand. I expect him to make me beg and make me tell him I love him and he’s the man for me. I expect to die, crying and begging for it—not his love but death itself.

My eyes long to close, my body whispers
Let’s give up
as my heart aches from the memories that are filtering back in. Memories I will never be rid of or solve. I won’t ever know what it all meant to him, what I am to him. What I am representing or curing. What void I am filling.

A sound catches my cold ears. I glance up into the darkening sky as snowflakes begin to fall. A tear drips from my eye as I realize it’s the first snow of the season.

The sound gets louder as a vehicle makes its way up the hill.

For a moment, I ignore the sound of the tires skidding around the gravel corners, and stare up into the sky. The flakes swirl, taking my care and depth perception away. I tilt my head even more, letting the fat flakes fall in my mouth and land on my lashes.

I don’t close my eyes. I don’t try to block out the sound again as it gets closer. I stare up into the snow and force a memory, one of a time when I was happy. It was a moment, fleeting and precious. Her face makes me happy. She brings me joy as she becomes all I see in the swirling snow.

I close my eyes, waiting for the separation of Ashley’s mind from mine, or rather mine from hers. The forced abandonment of her leaves me feeling hollow and detached from the real world I live in. I feel even more so from the dream world inside of Ashley’s mind, as the forest becomes a room in a lovely house with floral and pastels and a French flair for decorating.

In the distance I can see Ashley still standing, waiting to tell me the rest of the story, shivering and cold. She looks confused and lost in the forest, as I become me, escaping the horrors that lie within her tale.

I blink three times as the wallpaper and pastels eat up the forest and all that exists around me is the country home in France. I lean forward in the armchair, taking a deep breath before lifting the lid of a jewelry box with four-leaf clovers on it, and peek inside, whispering, “Tell me about the swans, the way the swans circle the stars and shoot across the sky.” They are the words that send me all the way home. The key to escaping the dream world.

I sit back, letting the ceiling melt away and revealing the sky. Clouds move rapidly, fast-forwarding the time as I get lost in the stars and the blackness of the sky. Everything twirls in a circle, like a girl in a tutu spinning and dancing. My eyes lose focus, as a sickening wave of heat washes over me.

I am not her; she is not me. I am Jane. I am free of Ashley.

A slow and yet noisy breath leaves my parted lips as the coolness of the mountain vanishes and the warmth of the room I am in surrounds me. Still I shake and shiver because my body is in shock from detaching from the mind of the girl lying next to me. The girl who is sleeping as I roam about in her brain.

When I open my eyes, my mouth is still shivering from the cold of the mountaintop. I glance at Angie’s expectant face. “What in the bloody hell was the point of that? Ya just got in there, Jane.”

After a few moments my body starts to feel like it’s mine again, and I can use my mouth. “I need to know what the map looks like, Angie. Don’t be a pain in the ass,” I snap, and continue to take deep breaths. “I went in blind. We have nothing on this girl. All I knew going in was that she was missing and found on a riverbank. Now I know our guy might be a professor and he owns a Jeep and a family cabin.”

My heart rate lowers enough that I’m not just sweating for no reason, and I sigh. “She escaped, ran for her life. Hid behind a cabin until she thought it was safe. Then she ran through the woods to the lower cabins and found an old truck. She stole it and drove as far as she could before she crashed. His face is a blur in her mind. She never let me see it. He somehow brought her back to the cabin. I didn’t see much, but I know what I have to do.” I cough a little, certain I’ve crashed in the truck with her. “Don’t tell Dash I needed to go in twice, promise?”

She rolls her eyes. “Lucky number nine then, eh?”

I lift my thumb and close my eyes again.

2. The lengths I would go and the distance he would walk

 A
ngie takes a deep breath over me and counts backward, sending me back in.

5

4

3

2

1

She becomes me and I become her in swirling motion, similar to water falling into a drain. It goes in a circle until you’re so dizzy you can’t tell up from down.

“Who’s a pretty girl? Where do you live?” I pet the ginger tabby, glancing around the small room. The odd little room is still hard for me to wrap my head around. I keep waiting for my bedroom back home to appear before my eyes.

The kitty rubs her face and whiskers on me, purring and mesmerizing me. Her eyes move to the mirror behind me. I glance over my shoulder, following her gaze. When our eyes meet in the mirror, my deep-brown stare narrows. She hisses and scratches my hand, turning and running from the dorm.

In the mirror the trickle of crimson blood seems brighter somehow than any single thing I can see. Everything fades as the blood catches my eyes, making my heart beat a little harder, a little faster. I could swear for a second I saw blue eyes, and one was dark and one was light.

“Ash?”

I lift my gaze in the mirror, smiling, half at myself and half at the girl looking perplexed. Her name is Michelle, and she’s my new roommate. She’s the angst-ridden, annoying type of girl I always avoid. They love drama and complaining and making everything a fucking mission. She is exactly the sort of girl who has a Facebook page to save the world, whereas the rest of us want to see puppies and recipes and selfies.

“Hey.”

She scowls. “What’s with the cut? You need a bandage?” She sounds moodier than normal.

“No.” Slowly and purposely I lift the hand to my lips, closing my mouth around the wound. The cat that has run away reminds me that mine is still missing. My mom called yesterday to let me know Binx ran off when I left home. “You haven’t seen my cat, have you?” I nod at the photo of the black-and-white fluff ball in the frame on my desk.

She cocks a thin eyebrow, maybe too thin for her round face. “Dude, I already told you he couldn’t come here. You can’t have cats in the dorm. People have allergies and shit.”

Did she not just see the orange cat?

The conversation floats around in my foggy head. “Right, but I think he tried to follow me when I left. He isn’t at home. My mom called and said he ran away the day I left.”

She winces. “Cats are assholes; he probably hasn’t even noticed you’re gone. He probably left because he was finally free of the hugs and kisses. They’re selfish. They can’t even help themselves. You need to get a dog. Did you know that a dog would starve for days next to your dead body if it were trapped in the house with you when you die? Cats will start eating you before you’re even fully dead.”

Sadness creeps in, and I start wondering if she’s right. Did he run away, or did he escape? I shake my head, pushing the idea away. “Binx loves me. He’s had plenty of opportunities to kill me and he hasn’t.”

She nods, widening her eyes like she’s already tired of me, even though it’s only been a week as roomies. She mutters something under her breath, something about bullshit. A strange anger fills me up.

I get up, still sucking my wound, and grab my cell. When I lift it to text, I catch a glimpse of my face—my eyes. They’re cold, so very cold. I never noticed it before this moment, but they actually look broken. Dark eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, and worry. So much worry you’d have thought I smeared it on in the morning like black eyeliner on a metal rocker.

The image on the screen of the phone makes me stop to reflect on the idea of what I am truly about to do.

But his little face with his whiskers and unconditional love fills my mind. He loved me, absolutely loves me. He wouldn’t eat my dying body. I know that, and I hate her for saying it.

The question is, do I hate her enough to do the thing I am thinking of doing?

A meow fills the air behind me. I glance back to see the ginger tabby. She rubs against the door frame, sliding upon the wood and purring. She’s a temptress; she isn’t like Binxy. She meows again and turns, running out the door.

I lower the phone and follow her down the long corridor with the blinking lights, old fluorescents that could cause a seizure for an epileptic. She runs down the stairs, rubbing against the door.

I scowl. “You’ll die out there. Wild animals or cars or other terrible things.”

She purrs, rubbing the door persistently. So I follow, assuming she must know what she’s doing. When I open the door she bolts, pausing when she’s halfway across the grass in the commons. Something else moves out there with her.

I walk into the dimly lit field, a little scared of the commons at night. But when I see what she’s rubbing against now, I break into a run.

His little black-and-white face is a miracle. He followed me, like I knew he would. I drop to my knees when I get close enough, squishing into the damp grass. I put a hand out for him to smell. He tiptoes along, not even making a sound as he walks. His whiskers have fog on them, mist from the thick ocean air that’s making the lights glow.

He creeps closer—close enough for me to pick up when his cold nose touches my fingertip. I nestle my face into his thick, damp fur and take a lungful of the smell that is entirely him. He smells like the woods and the dirt and love.

He immediately purrs, a reward I have rarely received. When I look down, the orange cat is gone. She’s run off into the woods, or just vanished like a messenger or a guardian angel might.

I wrap him in my arms, noting he’s thinner. The week’s journey to get to this place has been a hungry one. I don’t know how he found me, but gripping him makes everything better.

As I climb the stairs to my dorm, one of the girls I met the day before—Angie, an exchange student from the UK, Scotland specifically—smiles wide. “By the gods, that’s a cute cat. Look at that fur!” She reaches for him without asking my permission. Or Binx’s, rather. But he doesn’t care. He leans in, letting her love him up. His purring stops, because that’s just the sort of cat he is, but his eyes close because he knows he’s safe.

“What’s the wee highness’s name?” Her thick accent makes me smile.

“Binx.”

“Like Thackery Binx?”

I nod, completely baffled at her knowing
Hocus Pocus
well enough to know the cat from the movie. “Yes. Exactly.”

“One of the very best American movies ya Yanks have ever been able to pull off. Yer theater is lacking, largely, but that movie is a classic.” Her grin widens; she seems like an old soul. Too old for college, but I can tell that is just the look in her eyes. She knows too much of the world to be a wide-eyed college girl. Somehow she is older and wiser than the rest of us and yet fits in with me; maybe it’s just me, though. “The way yer people go about hiring an actress for her tits and ass is offensive to the real artists of the world. Ya will note that we in Europe hire an actor for skills. Yeah, they all have raggedy teeth and crazy hair, but at least they can get around a stage.”

I snort, and it shocks me. I don’t remember the last time I snorted.

Her gray-blue eyes and dark-red hair are an amazing combination. I haven’t ever noticed a redhead with blue eyes like hers, except Mrs. Ridge at the post office, but her red hair is the bottle variety.

“Ya taking him back to your room then? He’ll live here with ya?”

I nod carefully, watching her gaze. She could be a professor, her eyes are so old compared to the other kids in the hall I’ve passed by.

“Interesting. Well, if ya need someone to watch him let me know.” She winks and turns, leaving with a wave. I clutch to my cat and scurry to my room. I lay him on my bed and stroke his back. He accepts a minute of love before turning and starting his exploration of our new space.

I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. The image flickers, maybe from the light or maybe my vision. The reflection is there until I blink, seeing the face of a girl with dark hair and different-colored eyes. It flashes for only a second. She’s screaming and scared and then gone.

I open my eyes, suddenly shaking and cold.

The door opens to the hallway and Michelle walks in, instantly stopping when she sees the cat. “Seriously? Another one?”

I am still cold from seeing the weird image that doesn’t feel like a memory, but I can’t explain where else it might have come from.

“I said you can’t have him in here. It’s my room too, Ash. This is shit.”

I open my mouth, but Angie is instantly behind her. “If ya want, we can change roommates. Mine hates the bagpipes, and she can’t stand the way I sing The Stones. If you can live with that, then we can share and they can share.”

She’s like a guardian angel popping up, like the other cat bringing me to Binx. It’s all so perfect; I have to wonder if I’m dreaming. I nod. “I don’t care about singing.”