Shattered Dreams: A Midnight Dragonfly Novel (5 page)

“My God.” Her voice was barely more than a horrified breath. “He hurt you. That boy—”

“No,” I said, not needing her to finish to realize where she was going. Teenage boy, teenage girl … late at night.
“No.”

But she was already reaching for her phone. “I’m calling the police—”

“No!” This time it was a shout. “That’s not what happened,” I practically screamed, and finally, finally she looked up from digging in her purse. “He didn’t …
No,
” I said for the fourth time. Words jammed in my throat. “He didn’t touch me.”

Frozen there, she looked at me. “Then what?”

“I—we—” Dangerously close to cracking, I backed away. “Just a game,” I murmured with another step toward the hall. “Just a stupid mistake!”

I shouldn’t have run. Even as I turned, I knew that. But I couldn’t stand there one second longer, not with the way she was looking at me.

“Trin—” she called, but I slammed the bathroom door before she could finish. The hall was short, but my heart pounded as if I’d been running forever. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the hard, solid wood, willing my breath to slow—and hating the hot salty moisture stinging my eyes. No way would I let it fall. No way would I cry. They weren’t worth it. None of them.

Not even Chase.

My throat burned.
Chase.

Through the darkness of my mind, I could see his smile, the warmth in his heavy-lidded blue eyes and the curve of his mouth, how incredibly hot he looked when he didn’t shave for a few days. Even in chemistry goggles, he had a way of looking drop-dead—

Drop. Dead. They were good words. Because that’s all he would ever be to me again. Dead.

Sucking in a deep breath, I opened my eyes, and saw the blood. Through the glow of the wall-mounted cherub sconces, the antique oval mirror revealed everything: the blood on my forehead and the bruise already forming; the dark hair I’d meticulously flatironed earlier that evening, stringy now, matted with sweat and mud and I didn’t even want to know what else. The makeup I’d carefully applied, gone, revealing scratches and the cluster of freckles I tried to cover up.

Jerking, I ripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. It took a while for the hot water to come, but when it did I let it rain down on me for a long, long time, plastering my hair against my face and washing away every trace of grime and blood and disappointment. Of shame, and foolishness.

When the scorching water went cold and I stepped from the shower, I found a different girl staring back at me, long dark hair combed slick and clean, face flushed from the heat, eyes dark, bright, and confident. This time they were
her
eyes, my mother’s eyes, and somehow that made me feel stronger.

“Trinity?” Aunt Sara’s voice startled me. For a few minutes there, I’d forgotten.

“Chase is here.”

FIVE

My heart pretty much leapt. I hated the reaction, I did. It was foolish and totally emo, but one hundred percent involuntary—and five hundred thousand percent devastating.

Hurrying across the slate floor, I yanked open the door and almost plowed into my aunt. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

She stepped back when it became clear I wasn’t stopping, somehow not spilling a drop from the big mug in her hands. “He’s downstairs, Trin … he’s been here about five minutes.”

The flash of relief almost knocked me over.
Downstairs,
of course. No one could get upstairs without card access. “Tell him to go away.”

“I told him you were asleep,” she said, trailing behind me. “But he said it’s important.”

I didn’t know why I moved into the main room of the condo. And I totally didn’t know why I went to the window, where through the slats of the wood blinds I could barely make out a shadow on the porch below. He stood so very still, crazy still for a guy like Chase, who was always in motion.

The salty sting in my eyes surprised me. So did the stab of longing.
Chase was here.
All I had to do was buzz him up and—

And what?

I was not his girlfriend. I wasn’t even his friend, for that matter. I was just the new kid in school. His lab partner.

The night’s entertainment.

“Trinity?”

I spun toward my aunt, saw the lingering sheen of concern and confusion. I knew what she thought, still, even though I’d denied it. The grandfather clock was about to chime two in the morning, and now Chase was downstairs, wanting to talk to me.

I was lucky she hadn’t already called the cops.

“Please,”
I said, and if my voice thinned a little on the word, we both pretended it didn’t. “Just make him go away.”

She frowned. But it was tender somehow, and the compassion in her eyes touched me. For so long, there’d been only Gran, and while I’d loved her with all my heart, she’d always been pretty closed. And a whole lot older than me.

Aunt Sara was, well, she was young and beautiful and … cool.

I really wanted her to like me.

“Okay,” she said, and as she crossed to the intercom, I knew that when she came back, I had some serious explaining to do.

“Chase,” she said in that thick drawl of hers, as if she caressed each word as it came out. I’d heard Southern accents on TV, even alleged New Orleans accents. But they’d seemed hokey. I’d thought if people in the South really talked like that—

They didn’t. At least, not Aunt Sara. Her voice was … The only words I could come up with were warm and rich.

“You need to get on out of here,” she said.

“But—” He looked up and I froze, although I knew it was too late. He saw me standing there, silhouetted through the slats of the blinds. “… just … she’s okay?”

I winced, wrapping my arms around my body and hugging tightly. All I had to do was ask my aunt for five minutes—

“She’s with me,” Aunt Sara said.

But she did not say that I was okay.

“Then…” Unsure, I realized. Chase Bonaventure, star quarterback of the Our Lady of Enduring Grace football team and Mr. Everything, sounded unsure. “Tell her I was here.”

From my perch five stories up, I watched him kick something.

“… and that I’m sorry.”

Words were just that. Words. A whisper of breath. They had no form or substance. They weren’t supposed to touch.

But I would have sworn something soft and aching settled around me.

“Good-bye, Chase,” Aunt Sara said with complete and total authority, leaving no doubt the conversation was over. But he didn’t move, just stayed on the top step, tall, contained, while I did the only thing I could. I counted, making it all the way to ninety-seven before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

I made myself swallow, hating that tearing feeling deep inside, as if I’d just lost my best friend.

“I’m ready when you are.”

I turned to find Aunt Sara near the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the main room. The whole place was an odd combination of industrial and Old World chic, exposed brick walls with heavy furniture in dark woods, wrought iron and delicate china, crosses and fleur-de-lis hanging adjacent to huge, almost angry, modern art. Art my aunt had created. Somehow it all worked.

Part of me wanted to pretend I had no idea what she was talking about. But already I knew her well enough to know that wasn’t an option.

“I made you some cocoa,” she said, tracking me as I made my way barefoot across the wood floor.

With stainless-steel appliances and dark granite, the kitchen should have felt cold. But Aunt Sara had transformed the space into something cozy and welcoming. Maybe it was the rich fabrics, or maybe the stylish canisters and eclectic collection of French chefs in all shapes and sizes, the scattering of gardenia votives.

Or maybe, in that moment, it was the two mugs of hot chocolate topped with Cool Whip and sprinkles of cinnamon.

“Thank you,” I said, slipping onto the stool next to hers. On the counter, I noticed her laptop open to a spreadsheet. A real estate agent, she was always doing something on the computer.

Her hair was long and wavy like mine, but softer, the color of pecans. A few layers framed her face, a sweep of long bangs slipped against her right eye. Pushing them back, she gave me one of those
I’m-still-waiting
smiles, then reached for her mug and drew it to her mouth.

I did the same. Whipped cream came first, followed by an explosion of cocoa. And for that one little moment, my world felt totally and completely right.

“Trinity.”

So much for the moment.

“I get that we don’t know each other that well,” she said as I looked up. “But I made my mother a promise, and as long as I’m responsible for you…” She set down her mug. “I’m on your side, you know.”

I tensed.

“You said it was just a game,” she said quietly. “But Chase did not sound like he was playing.” She hesitated for a long, awkward moment. “I want to know why.”

Everything played back in my mind, every single moment, every single lie. “Because I know who he is now,” I whispered. “And he knows the game is over.”

“What game,
cher
? What game is over?”

“The one where I believe everything he says.”

“Trinity.” Her eyes darkened.
“What happened?”

I stared at the remains of whipped cream melting into the chocolate. Funny how quickly it could all just … go away.

“We were hanging out in the Quarter,” I murmured. “On Bourbon.” Dancing to the music spilling from the clubs. Laughing. Daring each other to have our palms read by the psychics in Jackson Square.

Maybe the way the woman with the long silver hair crossed herself before hurrying away should have warned me.

“I thought we were killing time,” I said, as Aunt Sara once again dragged her cocoa toward her mouth. “We went to this old house—”

She stilled. “What old house?”

“In the Garden District … close to where you picked me up. It was big and beautiful—”

The mug hit the granite. Chocolate sloshed onto her hand.

She made no move to wipe it away, even though I knew how hot the cocoa was.

“The house on Prytania Street,”
she whispered.

“You
know
it?”

She nodded, dark hair sliding in to cover the strange glow in her eyes.

“How? Is it famous or—”

“Everyone knows that place.”

She was so not telling me something. “They said it’s haunted,” I said, fishing. “That people died there.”

She looked away, down to where the spilled chocolate puddled on the granite. And all I could wonder was
why?
Why did she look so pale? Why wouldn’t she look at me? What did she know?

“They should have torn that place down a long time ago,” she murmured.

I sat a little straighter. “Why? What happened?”

Without warning she looked up. Hair hung in her face, but she made no move to push it away. “It’s not what happened,” she said. “It’s what
could
happen.”

Lights glared all around me, but for a second the darkness returned, and with it the image of Jessica strewn out on the dirty mattress.

“What?” I pressed. “What could happen there?”

What had I seen?

Maybe it was the stark contrast between her dark hair and cheeks many hours removed from fresh makeup. Or maybe something altogether different. All I knew was that for a second there, my aunt looked like she’d come face-to-face with something that terrified her.

“Anything,” she said. “Anything could happen there.” Her eyes were narrow, probing, as if somehow she, too, saw.

Somehow she, too, knew.

“I want you to stay away from that place,” she said, standing. “I mean it, Trinity Rose.” The words were sharp, the use of my middle name a first. “Don’t go back there again.”

This time, it was she who walked away, leaving me staring after her.

What in God’s name was that about?

I’m not sure how much longer I sat there, a while, long enough for the cocoa to go cold. The lights still hummed around me. I was in my aunt’s ultra-funky, ultra-secure condo. I was safe. I knew that.

But that was just my body.

The rest of me … I was back at the house on Prytania, where in the darkness, cold bled. And the shaking wouldn’t stop. Not because of what Jessica and Amber had done. Not even because of Chase, and how badly it hurt to know that every time he’d smiled at me, inside he’d been laughing.

And not because of my aunt, and the terror I’d seen in her eyes.

No, I shook because of what I’d seen.

And what I knew was going to happen.

*   *   *

There was no way to avoid him.

The second I walked onto campus Monday morning, I saw him, standing in the shade of an oak just beyond the main walkway.

If I hadn’t known better—
which I totally did
—I would have sworn he was waiting for me.

Once, Our Lady of Enduring Grace Academy had been a place of solitude and reflection. Built as a monastery over a hundred years before, the sprawling campus seemed an unlikely place for a high school. The old, Gothic-like brick buildings looked as if they belonged in the French countryside. Statues dotted the courtyards. Everywhere you turned, there was either an angel or a saint, or some beautiful old fountain.

Every morning during the first week of school the fountains had been like giant bubble baths—apparently, adding detergent to the water was a time-honored tradition.

The campus was huge, but the old stone wall encircling the buildings allowed for one point of entry in the front and one in the back. That meant there was no getting to homeroom without him seeing me.

Of course, he’d be in homeroom, too. True, he sat two rows over, but Chase was my lab partner …

Now he stood in the shade of a massive oak, this one with a big swooping branch a foot off the ground, making a perfect bench. Nearby, the angel atop the main fountain lifted her arms to the clouds drifting across the ridiculously blue sky, as if invoking some higher power.

In that moment, I could relate.

He looked … well, he looked like Chase always looked—hot. I hated that. I really did. I didn’t want to feel that little twist in my stomach that I’d felt the second he walked into homeroom back on the first day of school, when the warm blue gleam of his eyes had found mine, and those dimples had flashed. I didn’t want my throat to tighten, or my palms to sweat.