Gena Showalter - Intertwined 02 (18 page)

“Let's not do this, Mary Ann.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “We broke up shortly before I arrived here in Crossroads. We were never supposed to date, anyway. Vlad had promised her to someone else.”

Stomach churning
…“So I'm the rebound girl?”

He snapped his teeth at her, pure wolf. “Mary Ann. You were dating Tucker when I got here. I should be asking you if I'm the rebound guy.”

Good point. Okay, she could let the rebound fear go. She walked over to him and eased beside him on the step. “Why did you guys break up?”

His green eyes pinned her in place. “You really want to know?”

Oh, God.
No
. “Yes.”

“I didn't like the thought of her in danger, and she was always rushing right into it.”

Just like Mary Ann had done by going into town on her own. Only, Mary Ann was human, her skin vulnerable. Just crossing the street could put her in danger. Actually, she'd never felt closer to death than just then, her hopes and dreams burning to ash around her.

“Do you still have feelings for Lauren?” she asked softly.

“No.”

Too quick a response? God, she hated this. Hated her doubt. Hated Lauren, even though the vampire had been nothing but nice to her. And by nice, she meant that Lauren hadn't stabbed her.

Do you still have feelings for me?
She wanted to ask, but didn't. Couldn't. The answer might be the final nail in her coffin. He'd say yes, but she would hear the “but” in his tone. She knew she would.

“Well, the danger thing is just something you'll have to get over, Riley,” she said, as if they were still together and not just a big, fat maybe. “You can't be the one to save the day all the time. You can't do everything on your own. You have to accept help. Sometimes that's the only way to get the job done.”

“I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it,” he grumbled.

At least he hadn't denied her outright. That was progress, right?

“Right now, I want you to promise me that you won't tell anyone, and I mean
anyone,
not Aden, not Victoria, about the draining thing,” he commanded. “Not until I find a way to fix you or reverse what's happening.”

Could he, though? He'd already admitted Drainers died when others attempted to fix them. No, not true. He'd admitted that Drainers died during
experiments.

“Okay?” he insisted.

Admission time. She stood, unable to sit still a moment longer, and shifted from one foot to the other, twisting the hem of her sweater. “I won't tell.” She kept her back to him. “But…there's someone who already knows.”

There was a rustle of clothes, then hard hands settled
on her shoulders and spun her around. Riley had jackknifed to his feet, and boy, did he look ready to murder someone. “Who?”

Just tell him. Rip the Band-Aid
. “The witch. Marie. The one I saw in town. The one who…appeared at the school this morning and told me she could feel me feeding off her.”

Pupils—wide, thin. Wide, thin. Like a pulse. “Why didn't you tell me? Damn it, Mary Ann. I could have hunted her down.”

And done what to her? “At the time, I didn't know what she meant.”

“She could have killed you!” As quickly as he'd exploded, he relaxed. His head tilted to the side pensively. “Why didn't she kill you?”

“I don't know. She didn't stick around and explain her thought process.”

Several heartbeats of time passed in silence. Then, “Someone's developing a smart mouth.” Dryly said, without any heat.

“I thought you liked my mouth,” she replied, kicking a stone with the toe of her tennis shoe.
Please, still like my mouth.

He chuckled, and the sound warmed her. “I do.”

Thank God. Her knees almost buckled—and might have, if he hadn't wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her up, holding her close.

“You know what I want?” he asked softly.

Her gaze lifted, meeting his. She shivered. “Tell me.”

“To go on a date with you. A real date. Just you and me. No war, no being chased, no looking for answers. Just the two of us getting to know each other.”

Yes, please
. “I would like that,” she said on a trembling breath.

“Soon as the witches are taken care of, that's what we'll do.” There at the end, he'd sounded depressed, as if he didn't think it was possible. As if one of them would be dead by then.

Perhaps he didn't realize that
he
was killing her just then. Pulling her in one direction, then another, letting her hope before crushing her into nothing. “Nope. After the witches, we'll have to start searching for Aden's parents.” A reminder for Riley, for her. Aden was still their friend, and they still had a mission.

“No.” Riley shook his head. “Aden won't have time to search for his parents yet. He'll have vampire meetings to attend, laws to pass, punishments to issue.
Then
he can focus on his parents.”

“At this rate, he'll have to drop out of school,” she said. Her, too.

“Nah. Things'll calm down soon.”

“And maybe then we can go on a second date.” Fingers crossed. To be honest, nothing had really been worked
out between them. Had it? They might be dating, they might not. She might be a Drainer, she might not. Fingers crossed on that one, too.

He chuckled, but it was no more assured than his final words.

The door behind him squeaked, and Riley released her, turning. Victoria and Aden exited the cabin. Both wore grim expressions. Aden looked sick, even. His skin had a greenish tint, and there were bruises under his eyes. And he was limping, dragging one leg behind as if it hurt to bend his knee. Maybe it did. His jeans were ripped and stained with dried blood.

“Are you okay?” Mary Ann asked him.

“Yeah, fine.”

“I asked him the same thing, and he gave me the same answer,” Victoria said.

Aden smiled, and for a moment, he looked all better. “Because it's true. I'm fine. Just tired.”

“You'll be home soon, I swear, my king. So did the witch tell you anything?” Riley asked. He didn't release her, but moved to her side.

“No. So we're going to leave her tied up for the rest of the night,” Victoria replied. “Perhaps boredom will make her more interested in talking to us tomorrow.”

They were running out of time, though, the week the witches had given Aden to attend their stupid meeting nearing its end. “So what now?”

“Now we spread the word that we've got a witch,” Riley said, grim. “If they want her back, they'll call their meeting to order.”

“They'll curse us,” Victoria said.

“They already have. Therefore, you'll do what I suggested and spread the word.”

One by one, Victoria, Aden and Mary Ann nodded.

“As for what's left of tonight, we go home, rest.” Riley's gaze met Mary Ann's, just as grim as his voice. “Soon the real battle will begin.”

T
UCKER REMAINED
in the shadows for a long while, covered by his illusion of trees, darkness and night birds. Thankfully, no one at the cabin had noticed him.

So he'd watched…and listened…

He'd been ordered to follow Aden, which was easy for him, as Tucker could somehow sense wherever the boy went, and he had. Followed, that is. Yet Mary Ann was most often with the boy, and that delighted him, even as it frustrated him.

When it was just the two of them, Aden and Mary Ann, Tucker would lose his ability to cast illusions, forced to hide by regular means. He would wonder what the hell he was doing, following them, watching them and listening to their secrets when he should be protecting them. Oh, yes, there was a small part of him that wanted to protect the two people responsible for saving his dreaded life. And he would hate himself for what he was doing, vow not to do it anymore, and walk away.
But the farther he walked, the more he would hear Vlad's voice, whispering to him across the distance, commanding him to spy on Aden, and so, Tucker would return to Aden's side. If Mary Ann was gone, the desire to please his king would spread again. He would watch, listen and wait. An urge to hurt the boy would bloom, grow.

Thankfully, that hadn't been the case tonight.

Tonight, Mary Ann was with the other boy, Riley. When those two were together, Tucker
could
cast his illusions. For whatever reason. So, knowing Aden was inside, Tucker should have gone inside, too. And he could have, no one would have known—even when Aden was with Mary Ann, Tucker could use his illusions if Riley was there—but Tucker had stayed out here. For Mary Ann, determined to protect her from the rage of the other boy.

As he'd watched them, he'd realized he was glad she had a new boyfriend. She deserved happiness. She deserved love. She was the light to Tucker's darkness, pure where he was tainted. He'd never been right for her. But damn it, why couldn't they remain friends?

And why couldn't Penny be more like her?

Penny. Sometimes—when he was around Mary Ann and calm—he was glad they'd made a baby, even though he most often denied responsibility. Penny would be better off without him. Unlike Mary Ann, she didn't make
him feel better about himself, his actions, his future. He would make a terrible father.

Without Mary Ann, he wanted to hurt those around him. Penny, yes, and probably the baby.

The boy. Follow the boy
…

As Vlad's command drifted through his head, his teeth gnashed together. How did the vampire always know what Tucker was doing? How did the vampire wield such unbreakable control?

Disappointed, angry, dreading what was to come, Tucker straightened, unable to do otherwise, and headed south, toward the D and M Ranch where Aden lived. That's where the vampire princess, Victoria, had taken him when they'd vanished in a blink. As always, Tucker sensed it, felt a pull tugging him in that direction.

So far, there hadn't been much to report to the king. Aden had gotten sick, Aden had gone to school. Aden had returned to the vampire stronghold—where he'd been treated like royalty.

The last had infuriated Vlad. So much so, Tucker had feared for his own life. For with the former king's fury, invisible hands had wrapped around Tucker's neck, choking him. Finally, though, the vampire had released him and sent him on his way for more spy duty.

What was the vampire's ultimate goal? he wondered. Why was he using Tucker like this? Why wasn't he claiming his throne now? And did Tucker care?

The more distance he placed between himself and Mary Ann, the more the answer solidified in his mind. No. He didn't care. He would do what he was told.

 

T
HE GOBLIN POISON SAVAGED
Aden, turning his blood to lava, his organs to ash and his skin into one giant welt. He burned, he itched, he vomited thick black goo over and over again. Thank God he'd convinced Victoria to leave him. She'd protested, but he'd done the smiling, “I'm fine” thing and managed to convince her all was well.

Been here, done this,
he thought weakly, though he'd never experienced a reaction to this degree. Yeah, this was worse than any other corpse poisoning he'd endured. This one even affected the souls. They were moaning in his head, sometimes screaming, always incoherent.

Except for Elijah.
Death,
the psychic shouted.
Blood. So much blood
.
She dies. We can't let her die.

“Who?” The word was like acid in his throat.

He dies, too. So much death.

“Who dies?” he demanded more insistently.

Elijah continued as if he hadn't heard Aden's questions. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he simply didn't know.
No. NO! They all die. All of them. War. Stop the war. We have to stop the war
.

What war? If that was a prediction…

Through it all, Thomas's ghost remained glued to Aden's side, pacing, yelling, blaming. He wanted to leave, he said. His family would be looking for him, and would find out what had happened. And when that happened, Aden would finally know
true
suffering. Blah, blah, blah.

“A-Aden. You okay, man?”

It was still hard to distinguish real from the sea of noise, but he was still getting better at it, and he knew that someone was now in the room with him. His heavy lashes parted, and through a misty haze he saw Shannon standing at the side of his bed.

“Can I g-get you anything?” Shannon reached out and felt Aden's forehead.

The moment of contact, Aden's entire body jolted with a surge of electricity, and he lost his hold on his own reality. His conscious mind shot from him into his friend, and he was suddenly seeing the world through Shannon's eyes. Shocking, weird. Lying on the bed one second, standing the next. Pain still coursed through him, and he groaned.

His stomach rebelled at the new upright position, forcing him to hunch over and vomit. Again. Thankfully, someone had left a small metal trashcan here. Dan, maybe. Aden thought he remembered the guy checking on him a few times.

“Out,” he managed to croak to Caleb. He wanted out of Shannon's body.

The only reply was another moan.

Usually the soul had control. Caleb decided who to possess and when. Sometimes even Aden had control. Caleb might not want to possess someone but if Aden focused hard enough, he could do it. This time, neither of them had control, but they'd still done it.

He tried to step from the body, as he'd done with all the others, but something kept him leashed, tethered there, unable to move. Still. Over and over he tried. Finally, weak, exhausted, hurting worse, he gave up and fell back on the bed. He couldn't hear Shannon's thoughts, so he probably had control of Shannon's mind, too. Which meant his friend would not remember this.

He hoped.

God, what was he going to do?

However long he sprawled there, writhing, he didn't know. Time was immeasurable, endless. Until the
true
fun began.

Aden lost his hold on Shannon's reality, too, and when he next opened his eyes, he found himself in the body of a little boy. Shannon, he realized, as he studied the dark color of his arm. A younger version of Shannon. He hadn't lost Shannon's reality, after all.

Even if he hadn't noticed the physical differences, he
would have known. He sensed the truth, deep inside. He'd just time-traveled—into
Shannon's
past.

That shouldn't be possible, not without Eve and certainly not with someone else's life. Always before Aden had traveled back into his own life. Now he was seeing and feeling what Shannon was seeing and feeling. The physical pain, at least, was gone, and the souls were quiet rather than frenzied.

He sat on a swing, rocking back and forth, tiny sandaled feet pushing at the gravel. His little hands gripped the metal links at his sides. The sun glowed brightly, his only friend.

“Hey, Sh-Sh-Shannon,” a kid taunted from a few feet away. Several other kids were clustered around him, laughing. They were outside a school, Aden instinctively knew, and at recess.

There was a slide, a merry-go-round and a jungle gym, but none of the boys seemed to care about those things. They were focused completely on Shannon.

“My mom says you're so weird because your mom is white and your dad is black,” the tallest boy said, chucking a rock in his direction.

The stone slammed into Shannon's stomach, stinging. He kept his gaze to the ground. Ignore them, and they'll go away, his mom always said. But he knew they wouldn't. They never did. Unless Ms. Snodgrass noticed and yelled, but she was busy picking the grass out of
Karen Fisher's hair, so he'd have better luck wishing on a star.

Another rock hit Shannon, in the leg this time. He felt the sting, but again, he gave no reaction.

“You have a girl's name, Stutter, you know that?”

More laughter had him cringing inside. Not that he'd ever let them know it.

Aden wanted to jump up, to pound those kids into the dirt, even young as they were. And he could have. He was still in control of the body. But to change the past was to change the future, and not always for the better. Actually,
never
for the better. So he sat there, awash in Shannon's embarrassment and abject sense of loneliness, hoping that's what Shannon had done.

But then the scene shifted, the playground fading and red brick walls closing in around him. Graffiti covered those walls, and in the distance, he heard a police siren wailing.

Smoke wafted in his face, and he coughed. He waved a hand in front of his nose, only then noticing the cigarette resting in his other hand.

“So?” someone said. “What do you think?”

Aden focused. A boy stood just in front of him. Probably fourteen or fifteen, and he was smoking, too. Like Shannon, he was black, though his skin was darker, and his eyes were brown.

He was cute, Shannon thought, though not exactly his
type; still, they'd been secretly dating for three weeks. What made Tyler so appealing was the fact that he was the first boy Shannon knew who admitted, freely, that he liked other boys.

Most people were accepting of him. Some were not, like Tyler's dad, and he often sported bruises. But still Tyler didn't try to hide the fact that he was gay, or that he had a feminine side, was even proud of it, from his lip-glossed mouth to his too-tight pink T-shirt to his red-painted toenails.

Shannon still hadn't told anyone about his own preferences. His dad was clueless, thank God, but his mom…she must have suspected. Flighty as she was, she kept introducing him to girls and then questioning him mercilessly. What did he think of them? Why wouldn't he ask them out?

“Earth to Shannon,” Tyler said with a laugh. “Are you listening to me?”

“Uh, sorry. What'd you say?”

Tyler's amusement faded in a blink. “Lookit. Like I've told you a million times already, I said I'm tired of sneaking around. I'm not gonna let you pretend you don't know what I'm talking about this time, either. So either you like me or you don't. Okay? So which is it?”

“I—” Aden quickly shut his mouth. He didn't know how Shannon had replied, only felt the panic surging through the body.

“Say something!”

“I—I—” And then it didn't matter. The scene shifted again, and this time he was standing in the center of an outdoor basketball court. Sweaty boys were all around him, slapping him on the back, telling him what a good job he'd done.

On the ground in front of them was an unconscious boy. Tyler. He recognized Tyler's face, even though it was swollen, bloody and battered. Shannon's hands were throbbing. Aden studied them. The skin on his knuckles was ripped to shreds. By teeth. By
Tyler's
teeth.

He
had beaten Tyler? Why?

Guilt and shame bombarded him. Remorse. Sorrow. Self-loathing.

The scene shifted yet again, the emotions falling away like leaves on a tree. Now he was inside a home, sitting on a couch. Pictures abounded. Of him. Of an older black man and a white woman. His parents, he thought.

His cheeks itched, so he reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at them. They were warm and wet. With tears? Someone was in front of him, pacing, screaming. Because Shannon had beaten Tyler?

No, he realized, as Shannon's thoughts and feelings sank into his awareness. Because Shannon had finally told his parents the truth. He was gay. He hated what he'd done to Tyler. He wished he could go back, stop
himself from treating his boyfriend that way, as if he were trash. As if he were something shameful.

On and on his father screamed. This was wrong. This was a sin. His mother even joined him, crying hysterically about how embarrassed she was. Why couldn't he be normal?

He and Shannon were so much more alike than Aden had ever realized. He'd been called a freak his entire life, rejected by his parents, tossed throughout the system, unwanted by anyone. Trash. Shameful.

“Shannon?” The male voice called out from a long dark tunnel, and then someone was shaking him. “You're sick, too?”

Tugged back to the present, Aden blinked open his eyes—too bright, burning, tears forming—and found himself inside his bedroom, still on the bed, once again writhing in pain, the souls loud in his head. Dan was staring down at him, frowning with concern.

“You're burning up.” His sigh wafted over Aden's face, and even that hurt. “That means whatever Aden has is contagious.” Dan looked around. “Where's Aden? Do you need a doctor?”

Several seconds passed while Aden groggily waded through the facts. He was still inside Shannon's body, and Dan wanted to know where “Aden” was. “No,” he managed to croak. “Aden's…fine. At school. I'll be fine,
too.” Then he closed his eyes again and rolled to his side. “Please, go.”

“All right, I will, but get some rest. I'll check on you in a bit and bring you some of Meg's chicken noodle soup.” Meg. His sweet, beautiful wife. Footsteps sounded, a door creaked open, closed.