My Soul to Steal (9 page)

Emma and Nash both nodded, and I took off toward first period algebra, while they headed in the opposite direction. Emma got to skip class that morning to meet with the guidance counselor, who wanted to make sure she was still okay, following Doug’s death. Thanks to a call from her mom.

But I’d only gone a few feet when Sabine fell into step beside me in a snug polo, ratty jeans, and scuffed-up Converses. On
the surface, she was even less Nash’s type than I was—at least, Nash as he was known at Eastlake; I didn’t know what he’d been like in Fort Worth—but he didn’t seem to care. It probably didn’t hurt that she was hot no matter what she wore. Sabine’s look was overtly gearhead/gamer/troublemaker, but because she owned it, it worked for her.

Despite being new in the middle of her senior year and having no friends to speak of, Sabine had confidence and self-assurance I could only dream about. And that was just one more entry on my ever-growing list of reasons to dislike the
mara
.

“What do you want?” I walked faster, after a quick glance to make sure she wasn’t armed. Her dark eyes creeped me out, even more so than before, now that I knew what she really was.

“You’ve got balls,” she said, instead of answering my question, then launched into a high-pitched impersonation of me. “‘Sabine, get the hell out of my room! Stay away from Nash, or I’ll make you homesick for prison!’” she taunted, while I ground my teeth and stomped even faster through the hall. “That’s some funny shit! Especially while you’re still sitting in sweat-soaked sheets, heart racing from one hell of a nightmare. Though for the record, I was never in prison. The state detention center, halfway houses, and foster homes, sure. But never prison. What do you think I am, a hardened criminal?”

“Go away.”

Sabine laughed. “I don’t think you’re truly getting into the spirit of this rivalry.”

“This is not a rivalry. It’s your own sad little delusion,” I snapped, turning the corner so sharply my foot almost slipped out from under me.

When I paused to regain my balance, Sabine spun around to
stand in front of me, one hand on the wall, effectively blocking my path. She smiled, but her eyes were even darker than usual, the fear they reflected as black as a starless night.

My hand clenched around the strap of my backpack, the other clutching my math book while Sabine leaned in so close her nose almost brushed my cheek. I held my breath, not sure what she was doing. Not sure what
I
should do.

“I’m not into girls, Kaylee,” she whispered, her breath warm on my cheek. “But if I were, I think you’d be my type.”

My breath froze in my throat, and she laughed, stepping back where I could see her whole face. “I’m starting to see why Nash wanted you. You got a backbone buried in there somewhere.” She stepped back again and eyed me from head to toe, like a boxer assessing his opponent. “But if you don’t loosen up, you’re never gonna uncover enough of it in time.”

“He doesn’t love you,” I said through gritted teeth, determined to maintain eye contact, even though that was about as comfortable as holding a jagged chunk of ice in the palm of my hand.

“I know.” Sabine shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “But he
wants
me, and that’s the first step, and there’s nothing you can do about that. Know why?”

I didn’t respond, so she answered her own question. “Because you’re scared. You’re one big ball of fear, wrapped inside a skinny, uptight little body you’re not willing to share. But I won’t hold back. I’ll give him everything, Kaylee.” Her gaze burned into mine. “Everything you’re afraid to let him have.”

My fingers twitched around my book. “Sounds like you already have,” I spat, and she grinned, like making me talk was some kind of victory.

“I’m not talking about sex, though that offer’s definitely
on the table.” Her eyes flashed with anticipation, and I hated her just a little more. “I’m talking about my heart, Kaylee. As cheesy as it sounds, I’m willing to give him my heart—everything I am and everything I have—and you’re not. You’re too scared to trust him, and you can’t really love someone you don’t trust. So if you care about him at all, you’ll let him go, before you screw him up for good.”

I forced myself to breathe slowly and evenly, to keep her from seeing how her words affected me. How scared I was—deep down—that she was right.

“You can’t scare me away from him.” I could see my algebra classroom over her shoulder, the door open, the new sub standing next to it, eyeing the stragglers in the hallway.

Sabine laughed and long dark hair fell over her shoulder. “Yeah, I can. But I don’t think I’ll have to. I think your conscience is gonna do most of the work for me, because you do care about Nash, and when you’re brave enough to be honest with yourself, I think you’ll understand that you’re not what he needs.”

I ground my teeth together, then unclenched my jaw. I didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to be drawn into her little mind game—but I had to know. “What is it you think he needs?”

Another shrug. “Someone who wants him as he is. Flaws and all. And that’s never gonna be you. You’re not ready to take him back, but you can’t let him go. You’re afraid to be with him, and you’re afraid to be without him. You’re paralyzed with fear, and it’s eating you up on the inside and killing whatever you had with Nash.”

“You got all that from my dream?”

“I got that from your
eyes
. Well, that, and a little peek into your darkest fears. But it’s not like you keep those hidden.”

“You don’t even know me….”

Sabine laughed again, and I was starting to truly hate the sound. “I know you better than you know yourself. I can see the things you keep buried. The secrets you hide even from your conscious mind. And even if I couldn’t, I know your type.”

I glared at her, eyes narrowed until I could see nothing else. “I am not a type.” Why was I still talking to her? I should have just walked away, but I couldn’t help myself. Nash saw something in her. Something he liked. Something he’d once loved—and I wanted to know what that was.

“Oh, you’re definitely a type. Self-righteous, like you’ve never done anything wrong and that gives you the right to point out everyone else’s mistakes. You do what it takes to fit in, but not enough to get noticed, because you’re afraid of scrutiny and because you think you’re above the high school social scene. And frankly, you and I have that last bit in common.”

I glanced around, hoping no one was close enough to hear her, and was relieved to find the hall nearly empty. “You’re
obviously
a virgin,” Sabine continued, as I stood there, mortified, but unwilling to walk away because some part of me needed to hear this. Needed to hear what she thought of me. What she’d probably been saying about me to Nash. “And you think that makes you pure, but what it really makes you is uptight and scared. You won’t admit it, but you think about sex. A lot. But you’re not gonna do it, because then you wouldn’t be special. You think your virginity is some kind of satin-wrapped, halo-topped gift that, someday, some perfect prince will be honored to receive. But you don’t get it, and no one’s had the heart to explain it to you yet. Fortunately for you, I’m
full
of heart today. So here’s the truth: sex isn’t a gift you give Mr. Right in exchange for ‘forever’ and a white
dress. You’re selling yourself short and making us all look bad with that kind of naiveté. Sex isn’t something you do for
him
. It’s something you do for yourself.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again, stunned and humiliated. My face was on fire.

How on earth had Sabine’s effort to scare me away from Nash become a lecture on sex, and why not to have it? But what was even more disturbing than the surprising turn her lecture had taken was the sincerity obvious on her face.

“Why are you telling me this? I mean, if this little explanation of yours is such valuable information, why waste it on someone you obviously hate?”

Sabine frowned. “I don’t hate you. In fact, I kind of like you. I’m just not gonna let you stand between me and Nash.”

I felt my brows furrow. “And you seriously think you can just…take him back?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, betraying no hint of doubt. “I got this far, didn’t I?” When I frowned, confused, she elaborated. “I didn’t just
happen
to wind up in your school, Kaylee. Weren’t you even a little suspicious of the coincidence?”

Maybe, for just a second… But the truth was that so much weird stuff had happened to me in the past few months that the appearance of an ex-girlfriend had hardly even seemed notable—at first.

“I came here for Nash. It took me a while to find him, and even longer to get myself placed in a foster home in the right district. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I blinked, surprised beyond words. Then impressed, in spite of myself. “You—”

But before I could finish that thought, the front doors of the school burst open behind me, and I whirled around to see two EMTs wheel a stretcher into the hall.

The tardy bell rang, but I barely noticed.

The office door opened and the attendance secretary motioned frantically to the EMTs. “He’s in here,” she said, her voice so breathy with shock that I could hardly hear her. “We found him a few minutes ago, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do for him. I think he’s been gone for quite a while now.”

“Y
EAH
,
IT’S SOME GUY
named John Wells,” Tod said, sinking onto the bleachers next to me in the gym. No one else could see or hear him, and I was far enough from the other scattered groups of students that no one would be able to hear me, either. And with my earbuds in my ears, hopefully anyone who noticed me would think I was singing along with my iPod or learning to speak German, or something.

“Thanks.” I leaned back, and the next bleacher poked into my spine. Tod had just confirmed one aspect of the rumors spreading like brushfire throughout the school.

“Who is he?”

“The vice principal.” Found dead in his closed, locked office that morning, according to the rumors. Chelsea Simms had been running copies in the office before first period—the school newspaper’s copier was out of toner—when Principal Goody unlocked her V.P.’s door to borrow a file, grumbling about Wells being late for possibly the first time ever. Until she found him, slumped over his desk like he’d fallen asleep,
still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Only they couldn’t wake him up, and he was already cold.

But that’s all Chelsea knew, because they’d kicked her out of the office while the secretary dialed 9-1-1.

“You think you can get a look at the list?” I asked, meaning the death list, which told reapers exactly when and to whom reapings were scheduled to occur in any given zone.

“Don’t have to.” Tod grinned. “I know the guy who works this sector and I already asked. Nothing’s scheduled for Eastlake High this week.”

Nothing? He’d just blown Nash’s coincidence theory out of the water. We’d had three deaths in two days, and not one of them was scheduled….

Sometimes I really hate being right.

“Wait, how do you just happen to know the guy who reaps at the high school?” I asked, trying not to be incredibly creeped out that such a position even existed. “I don’t
happen
to know him. I made it my
business
to know him, after what happened with Marg back in September.”

Marg was the rogue reaper who’d killed four innocent girls and stolen their souls, which was part of my not-so-gentle introduction to the Netherworld and to the supernatural elements of my own world.

“I don’t suppose you have any details about Wells?” I asked, as Tod leaned back next to me, staring across the gym at a bunch of freshmen grumbling their way through calisthenics. Thank goodness I’d already had my required year of P.E.

Tod shrugged. “They took him straight to the morgue, but I got a look at him before they put him on ice.”

“Ew.” Suddenly I had an image of Mr. Wells, wedged into a giant drink cooler alongside assorted cans of beer and soda, waiting to be consumed at some stupid party.

There hadn’t been any parties since Doug Fuller died and Scott Carter got run down by the crazy train. Most of the student body was still in social shock, struggling to deal with conflicting impulses to truly mourn two of our own, and to replace them. Because without someone at the top of the high school social ladder, the rest of the rungs might collapse, and life as we knew it would fall into chaos.

But waiting for the cream to float to the top of the social milk bucket—a rather organic process—took patience, and while a couple of front-runners had emerged—and some splinter faction might yet turn to Nash, once they’d figured out how to approach the last standing member of the former social power trifecta—no clear victor had been declared.

“It’s really more like a big refrigerator with a bunch of meat drawers,” Tod said, oblivious to the turn my thoughts had taken.

“Thanks. That’s a much better visual.”

Tod laughed, and I had to remind myself that death didn’t affect him the way it affected…anyone else. Anyone living, anyway. He killed people for a living—as ironic as that sounded—and had outgrown the most common reactions to death: fear, sadness, and respect.

“So…notice anything weird about…the body?”

Tod shook his head, blond curls bouncing. “I got a pretty good look at him while they were filling out paperwork, and I didn’t see anything noteworthy. No obvious injuries, no blood or bruises. And his eyes were already closed. He looked like he was sleeping.”

Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.

I pulled one leg onto the bleacher with me, bent at the knee, and twisted to face Tod, hoping no one was watching me, because now I’d look like I was talking to myself. “I have to
ask you something and I don’t want you to freak out. Or say anything to Nash.”

Tod’s pale brows shot up, showcasing his curiosity while his blue eyes flashed in eagerness. “I’m not exactly known for either of those impulses.”

Which was exactly what I was counting on. “What happens when a
mara
takes too much? Like, really gluts herself on someone’s dream. Worst-case scenario.” I’d already asked Nash, but his answer was biased by an intense need to protect Sabine, and was thus potentially unreliable.

Tod just stared at me for a minute, then slowly shook his head. “I know what you’re getting at, but she didn’t do this.”

“That’s not what I asked. Worst-case scenario. Could she kill someone?”

The reaper looked like he didn’t want to answer, so I just waited, silently demanding a response. “Yeah, but…”

“And would it look like he’d died in his sleep?”

“Kaylee, I’m telling you, Sabine didn’t do this. She and I may not have been best friends, but she’s not a murderer.”

“She’s a thief and a vandal. And an assaulter. Or whatever.” Based on her skills with a lunch tray. “It’s just a hop, skip, and a jump from there to criminal overindulgence.”

“That’s not a hop, skip,
or
a jump,” Tod insisted. “It’s more like a vault over the Grand Canyon.”

“Tod, three teachers died in two days. All at their desks, all possibly asleep. The week Sabine moved to town. You seriously think that’s a coincidence?”

He shook his head slowly. “There are no coincidences.” We’d learned that, if nothing else, during the first half of my insane junior year. “But that doesn’t mean she had anything to do with it.”

I swallowed a grunt of frustration. Was I the only one who recognized the
mara
as a potential psychopath? Case in point: her obsession with Nash! “Sabine comes here and teachers start dying. It doesn’t take a genius to see the pattern.”

“What pattern?” Emma dropped onto the bench below mine, staring just to the left of the reaper’s head. I hadn’t even noticed her climbing the steps. “I assume Tod’s around here somewhere. Or else you’ve progressed to actually arguing with yourself.”

“Hey, Em,” Tod said, and Emma jumped a little, obviously startled to find him so close when he let her see him. “She thinks Sabine’s—”

“Trying to get Nash back,” I interrupted, and Tod glanced at me in surprise, then nodded when he understood. Emma didn’t know Sabine wasn’t human, and I wanted to keep it that way. At least until we knew whether or not she was a murderer.

“Well, yeah. That’s been well-established.” Em glanced from Tod to me. “Why? What did I miss?”

She was getting harder and harder to hide things from.

Tod crossed his arms over his snug white T-shirt, silently giving me the floor. Fortunately, I was prepared. “She ambushed me in the hall this morning and gave me a lecture on sex.”

Tod’s brows rose halfway to his hairline. “I hope you took notes….”

I elbowed his surprisingly solid ribs. “She told me that if I really cared about Nash, I’d let him go. Like he’s just gonna fall into her arms if I give him up for good.”

Tod and Emma both watched me, like they were waiting for me to clue in to the punch line of some horribly inappropriate joke.

“You think he would?” My heart throbbed with each beat, as if it were suddenly too big for my chest.

“He might fall into her, but he’s more likely to land on her lap than in her arms,” Tod said, pulling no punches, as usual.

“They have a history, and they’re still really close, Kay,” Emma said, watching for my reaction before continuing. “You’re probably the only thing keeping them apart, and if you tell him he’s never gonna get you back, and he should try to get over you, why
wouldn’t
he turn to her?”

I had no answer that wouldn’t be a lie, and the truth hurt too much to say out loud. “Doesn’t matter, I guess,” I said finally, studying the wood grain of the tread beneath my hand. “I’m not giving him up.”

“Hey, shouldn’t you guys be in class?” Tod asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

“I have a free period.” And the only thing stopping me from going off campus for a long lunch was the fact that all of my friends had actual third period classes. Speaking of which…

“Are you supposed to be in art?” I asked Em.

She shrugged and held up the giant novelty paintbrush Mr. Bergman used as a bathroom pass. “I
might
be having a really bad menstrual cycle. Bergman’s too squeamish to question it.”

“That’ll get you out of a whole class?” Tod frowned. “No fair using physiology against the entire male gender.”

Em grinned. “Says the only person in the building who could put on a one-man version of
The Haunting
. Right, Casper?”

Tod scowled. “I’m a reaper, not a ghost.”

“Whatever. Anyway, girl problems are good for fifteen minutes, max. Five, with a female teacher,” she said, standing
with the giant paintbrush. “So I gotta get back. See you at lunch?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go get Chick-fil-A. I’d kill for some waffle fries,” Tod said, as Em took the first two steps.

“You’d kill for a lot less than that,” she shot over her shoulder.

“You got cash?” I asked, already warming to the idea of lunch off campus. Without Sabine.

Tod scowled. “No, but I can pay you back.” He never had any money, because the reaper gig didn’t pay in human currency.

“I’ll buy you both lunch, if you bring me something.” Emma was on her way up the steps again, already digging into her pocket. But coming back would mean dealing with Sabine at lunch.

Emma handed me a twenty, and I took it hesitantly. Disappoint my best friend with no explanation, or suffer through Sabine’s infuriating presence…?

Finally I pocketed the twenty and stood. “What do you want?”

“Nuggets and fries. And a Coke. Thanks, Kay!” With that, she bounded down the steps and out the gym door as Tod and I made our way down the bleachers.

“You know, you could probably make a killing—no pun intended—working at Pizza Hut during your downtime.” He worked twelve hours a day at the hospital and had the other twelve free, and he spent most of that time bored, since he didn’t need to either eat or sleep. “I mean, you could just blink out of the parking lot and show up wherever the pizza’s supposed to go, just like that.” I snapped my fingers, then
lowered my voice when I realized we were nearing a group of students. “You’d be the fastest delivery guy in history.”

Tod huffed. “Like I want to spend my afterlife delivering pizza.”

I shrugged. “At least that gig would pay in cash. And probably in pizza.”

The reaper looked intrigued for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “Then who’d be around to pop in and drive you nuts when you start getting too serious? I perform an important role in your life, you know.”

“Yeah, well, Sabine’s starting to give you a run for your money,” I whispered, as we headed out of the gym and into the hall.

We passed the closed art and music room doors on the way to the parking lot, but as we approached the library, a sudden shrieking shredded the midday quiet. Tod and I ran into the library to find Chris Metzer, president of the robotics club, standing between a table and the chair he’d obviously been sitting in moments earlier, face scarlet, eyes wide as everyone else in the room stared at him.

“Chris?” The librarian rounded her desk in a series of short, even steps, constricted by her long pencil skirt. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Fine. Sorry.” Chris scooped his books up from the table and I noticed the repeating-line imprint of a spiral-bound notebook on his left cheek. “It was just a stupid dream.” Then he hurried past us and into the hall, cheeks still flaming.

I elbowed Tod, and he frowned. “I know, I know.”

“Sabine,” I whispered, as he followed me into the empty hall. “But when she Sleepwalks, her physical body looks like it’s sleeping, right? Where could she go to sleep uninterrupted here at school?” Not the library. Not anymore, anyway…

Tod shrugged. “Storage closet? Locker room?”

I shook my head. During lunch or after school, sure. But those were both actively used during class periods. “Her car,” I said, in a sudden stroke of inspiration.

I raced down the main hall and past several open classroom doors, crossing my fingers against any teachers vigilant enough to notice me. Tod followed, his silent footsteps signaling that no one else could see or hear him.

I shoved open the side exit door just in time to see Sabine get out of her car in the third row. When she noticed me, she smiled and waved, then started around the side of the building toward the quad and the cafeteria. We had to jog to catch up with her, and when we finally did, we were almost to the quad.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” I demanded, winded, but pleased to realize Tod hadn’t deserted me for his waffle fries. Of course, I still had Emma’s money.

Sabine shrugged without slowing. “Walking. The most common form of locomotion among American high school students.” She glanced at my feet. “Looks like you’ve mastered the skill.”

“I’m talking about Chris Metzer. You can’t just Sleepwalk into people’s dreams in the middle of the school day.”

“I can if they fall asleep at school. Did you know Metzer’s afraid of clowns? Like,
seriously
afraid of them. When he was four, he went to his cousin’s birthday party and the clown cornered him behind the pool house and—”

“Sabine,” Tod said, blessedly interrupting a sentence I desperately didn’t want her to complete. The
mara
blinked in surprise. But she recovered quickly. “Tod! Nash said you were back with us. So…how’s the afterlife?”