Eternity (7 page)

“Just a seltzer, please,” she said. “Are you using one of your fake IDs?” she added under her breath.

“Like I need it,” Crow shrugged. “I’m a regular.” When his drink arrived, two inches of brown liquid with one lonely ice cube, he slammed half of it in one sip and followed that with a swig of beer. So much for asking him for a ride home. He stared at her, daring her to pass judgment.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” she asked, looking around the bar to avoid his gaze. His eyes were so intense—as though he could see directly into her.

And maybe he could. She
trusted
him. She really did, despite what everyone said. She realized she knew virtually nothing about him except that he’d dropped out of high school . . . or been kicked out, depending on who you asked. But when she heard his music there was an understanding there, an honesty that just felt right. Plus he just couldn’t have made up what Drea said out of spite or sketchiness. She couldn’t make herself believe that.

“How about over there,” he said, pointing to a small wooden love seat in a corner dimly lit by a glowing tea light.

Once they sat down and Em had arranged it so her knees weren’t touching his, she forced herself to ask the question that had been burning inside of her all day. “Do you think it’s true? What Drea said?” Was it her, or did every candle in the place flicker at the exact same time, like a gust of wind was passing through?

There was silence as Crow studied his beer can. Em could feel the
ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom
of bass drums through her feet.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Crow said, shaking his head.

That makes two of us,
she thought. The condensation from her glass made her hands cold and wet.

“Something happened today,” she said finally. “In gym class. It was like . . . it was like I had turned into someone else.”

He didn’t say anything. She couldn’t even tell if he was really listening to her, the way he was looking off into the distance. He took another deep draw from his drink.

“I . . . hurt someone,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She bent her head, embarrassed. “I became, like, Superwoman for a few minutes. I threw a ball and it—it hit someone . . . ” Then, at the exact same time, they finished the sentence:  “Right in the face.”

She whipped toward him. “How did you know?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Listen, angel, you’re not the only one stuck in this shit show. I have a feeling I’m tangled up in it too.”  The words “upinit” smashed together like a traffic jam.

“You mean, because Drea told you about the Furies?” She still wasn’t sure how much Crow knew.

Fortified by another sip of beer, Crow leaned forward and spoke to the floor. “Worse than that,” he said. “See, I knew you were going to do that, what you did today in gym. I saw the whole thing—I saw you running like a track star on speed. I saw you break that girl’s cheekbone. I’d already seen it all.”

It was like a valve had opened within Crow; the words were spilling out of him.

“Where?” she asked. “What do you mean, you saw it?”

“What do I mean . . . ? Just what I said. I’ve been having these . . . visions, I guess you’d call them,” he said. His knee was jangling up and down to its own rhythm. “I’ve been seeing things—like movies in my mind. Not memories, exactly. But things that have happened. Or will happen. Or . . . I don’t know.” When he looked at her again, his eyes were reddish. Tired.

She nodded, but couldn’t speak. Was this Crow’s drunken idea of a practical joke? Or was he just drunker than she’d even realized?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said defiantly, “but I’m not just wasted. I mean, not
that
wasted. I saw you, Em . . . in my mind. There was so much blackness around you. Spilling out
from inside of you. I knew you were going to hurt someone. And I don’t think it’s over. I think you’re going to keep hurting people. The damage isn’t done.” The last words came out in a slurred rush. He drained what was left in the beer can.

No. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
His words tapped into her worst fears. “I didn’t mean to hurt Casey,” she said weakly. “I’m not . . . like them.” Not yet, at least.

He barely heard her. “But here’s the really bad thing,” Crow continued. “That darkness that I saw in you, in my vision? It follows me around. I’ll have another vision. Guarantee it,” he said, holding up his empty glass. “Refill?”

She glanced at the key chain dangling from his belt loop. “I’m worried about you driving home.”

“Don’t you worry about me, babe,” he said, leaning in close. “I can take care of myself. It’s you we should be worried about.” And with that he made his way back to the bar.

As she waited for him to return, her eyes were drawn to the church balcony. To the high stained-glass window that depicted a scraggly tree being split in two by a bolt of lightning. She stared at the oddly shaped cuts of glass, pieced together to form a whole image. An image of destruction. The window swam, a kaleidoscope of colors. Then there was a flash of white-blond hair.

She did a double take. There was someone up there.

Ali.

Ali was here. Spying.

She
was
being watched. Her stomach seized up and she considered running. Leaving this place, leaving Crow.

But when she narrowed her eyes and kept them trained to the spot where she’d seen movement, there was nothing. Nothing but dark corners and fleeting shadows.

“So here’s what I know,” Crow said, breaking her concentration. He’d come back with another glass of whiskey in his hand. “You and Drea were playing ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer,’ except not vampires but Furies. The goddesses of revenge. Evil.” His voice was rising; his tone was suddenly performative. It was as if he were trying to make a scene.

“Shhhhh,” she hissed. “They’ll hear you.”

“Who will?” He was mocking her, but she thought she saw a spark of fear in his eyes.

“Crow, how much do you know? What else have you seen in your . . . visions?”

“I know too much,” he said, sitting down heavily. “I knew about—I knew about Drea.”

Em felt the familiar wave of panic and hopelessness rush through her. “You knew that she was trying to get rid of them?”

“More than that,” he said dully. “I knew what was going to happen to her.”

“You knew about . . . the fire?” She shook her head. “But that’s impossible.”

“It’s not
impossible
,” he said. His jarring tone made several
nearby patrons turn their heads. “It’s not impossible just because you don’t understand it.”

“This is serious, Crow.” She tried to pull him back into their conversation, but his focus had shifted. He was looking at her through narrowed eyes, as if he were examining a specimen under a microscope.

“Sure, sure. Let’s be serious.” He scooted his chair toward her and leaned forward.

“Crow . . . don’t.”

“Don’t what, princess? I gotta ask a question, and I gotta get close to ask it.” He grabbed the underside of her chair and pulled it toward him, so close their faces were just inches apart. “If it’s impossible, why the hell do you think I showed up that night when I did?”

Em opened her mouth to speak, then realized she didn’t know how to answer that. Why
was
he there? The timing seemed suspicious. . . .

And then, all of a sudden, he was leaning in to kiss her. A piece of her wanted this—badly—but she couldn’t have everything. Em pulled away and felt the armrest jam awkwardly against her back.

“No,” she said shakily, placing her palm against his chest. “We—this isn’t right, Crow. You know that. We’re—we’re friends.”

He swayed backward a little. But not that far. His lips were still so close. . . . She could feel the heat from his body. “What’s
the matter, angel?” he said. “I’m not good enough for you?”

“You know that’s not it,” she said quickly, softly—almost like she was pleading with him. “It’s just . . . ” She couldn’t finish.
JD,
she wanted to say. But she felt like an idiot speaking his name out loud, when he had barely even spoken to her in a month.

“You’re drunk, Crow. And I don’t want to mess up our friendship. . . . ” The bench dug into her shoulder blade.

“I don’t believe that’s all you want from me,” he said. His eyes were still on her. Burning. Sending a leap of warmth through her stomach, a spinning, dizzying heat through her head.

What
did
she want from him? Reassurance? Protection? Help? She didn’t know anymore.

He reached up and traced her face lightly with two fingers. Everywhere he touched was like fire. “Tell me,” he said in that low voice, like a song. “Tell me what you really want.”

What did she want? She wanted information. She wanted his secrets. To see his visions. To learn from them. To know the
truth
.

She wanted everything to be different.

Em tilted her face to his, trying to read his eyes, trying to understand what was happening—what his role in it was. And that one small gesture was all Crow needed. He reached out and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her slowly toward him. Their lips were so close that she could taste him—that smoke, that sweetness.

The booze.

“No,” she said, suddenly realizing how wrong it was. “Really.”

“Everything okay over here?” Suddenly a bouncer, big and thick-necked, was behind them, pulling Crow back by the collar of his plaid shirt. “I don’t think you’re wanted here, buddy.”

Every ounce of gentleness Crow had had just moments before was gone in an instant. “Get your hands off me.” He stood up, shrugging off the bouncer’s arm roughly.

Em put her hand on his arm. “Let’s just go, Crow.” Em needed to get him out of there in one piece.

“You hear that?” He ignored her, getting in the bouncer’s face. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine. So I suggest you stop acting like I’m some kind of criminal.” He punctuated the word with a nice, hard shove.

The bouncer was thrown off for less than a second, which was all the reason he needed. “You’re out of here!” he yelled, clipping Crow’s shoulder and herding him forcefully toward the door.

“What are you doing, man?” Crow argued. “It’s early. I’m not even that drunk.”

“You can’t kick him out,” Em said, chasing after them. “He’s in no shape to drive.”

“You’re right, he isn’t,” came the bouncer’s surly reply, “but he sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“Asshole,” Crow muttered. The doors burst open and Em was relieved by the crisp air.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“He started it,” Crow said pointing in the direction of the Armory. He got out a final round of expletives, then repeated: “I’m not even that drunk.”

“You
are
that drunk.”

They stood in silence. Crow looked up at the sky. He interlaced his fingers behind his head so his arms splayed out like wings. It was cool enough that Em could just barely make out his breath in the air. “Fine, I am drunk.”

“Good. We’re in agreement. Now give me your keys,” she said, holding out her hand.

“You know how to drive stick?” he asked aggressively. “I don’t want you bottoming out on the Ridge.”

She didn’t. Dammit. Why hadn’t she taken JD up on those lessons this summer? “Crow . . . I . . . ”

“You don’t,” he said smugly. He grabbed the keys out of her hand.

She still wasn’t going to let him drive, manual transmission or no. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to call someone to pick you up.” Em went for the keys, which he held up high and just out of her reach. “I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like this,” she said jumping for them.

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me and then tell me how to act.”

Em stopped jumping. The words stung. They were standing so close she thought he might try to kiss her again. But instead he turned and started stalking across the parking lot in the other direction. “Crow!” she called after him. “Stop! You can’t drive!”

“I feel like they’re poisoning me.” Crow wheeled around and his voice broke into the quiet. He threw the keys at her feet and winced, like he had a sudden headache. “The visions . . . I want them to stop. It’s like blackness inside me.”

A car came around the bend and waited for them to get out of the way. Illuminated by the bright white glow of the headlights, Crow looked almost otherworldly. “I want to help you, Em,” he said, “but I think I’m going to get hurt if I do.”  Then he ran off into the night, leaving Em with his keys on the ground in front of her.

“Yup, you’re totally becoming one,” Melissa said, standing in the doorway to JD’s room and pulling her strawberry-blond hair back with a headband.

“Huh?” he asked. He’d been in another world, thinking about Em, and specifically of that book on her nightstand and wondering if he should ask her about it. He didn’t even know how long Melissa had been standing there.

“See? Case in point,” Melissa said, putting her arms out straight in front of her and staggering theatrically around his room. “I said, you’re totally becoming a zombie. You need a life.”

“A
liiiiiiife
,” he said, sounding the word out for effect. “How does one procure such a thing? Teach me, oh social one. Does it involve faking injuries to make friends?”

“I was not faking it,” Melissa said. “I really twisted my ankle and you know it. It was pure serendipity that Ali and I met. Speaking of which, I need a ride to Pete’s. Ali invited me for pizza.”

“Didn’t she leave, like, two hours ago?” JD said. “You’re a little too young for an exclusive relationship.”

She chucked a pillow at his head. “I texted to
thank
her again. And she invited me.”

He swiveled back toward his computer. “Tempting, but no. First of all, I have homework to do. Second, I’m not—
not
—a chauffeur.” Even saying the word—Gabby and Em’s old nickname for him—made anger spark inside of him. He pushed it aside. “And last, there’s pasta on the stove. Why are you going for pizza?”

“Let’s start with the last one first,” she said. “I’m going for pizza because I’d love to get out of the house. Even zombies need to socialize, you know.” She plucked a hat off his bed and chucked it at him.