Soul Crossed (21 page)

“No one has to die,” I say firmly. He swallows and allows me to sit him on the edge of the bed, and I squat to look up at him. I want to be as reassuring as possible.

“She said sleeping with ‘strangers’ was the last straw. She said she was going to send me away to where the crazy people go. That she couldn’t stand it anymore. She couldn’t stand me. Well, I couldn’t stand her, either.” He looks down at his mother’s silent form with pure hatred.

“You’re almost an adult, Cam. You don’t have to be with her much longer. You can move out on your own, go away to school. You’re a very smart guy.”

“I do have a calling,” he says, brushing my hair from my cheek. “I see it all very clearly now. You’re my Angel, Grace. You’ve been sent from above, my only hope of salvation.” I tremble at the accuracy of his statement. Does he really see it? Or is this the raving of a madman?

“Let me save you, then,” I say. “You can still choose to do the right thing and save her. Call the police.”

“Grace,” he whispers. He bends down, and I stay very still as he leans his forehead against mine. Is he burning up? Or is it that I’m so cold? “You’re freezing.”

“I didn’t have a coat,” I say, standing.

“Put this on,” he says, opening his closet. He rummages through the hamper stuffed inside and thrusts a large T-shirt at me. My eyes dart to the guns and archery set also on the closet floor, and when I look back he’s grinning at me. “Go on, Grace. You wore his shirt without hesitation. Surely you’ll wear mine if only to stop from freezing to death.”

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing hard and taking it from his hands. “I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

“I’ll turn around,” he offers, spinning in place. I quickly tug off the gown, thinking about how I’ve now ruined two of them, and pull on the shirt. I rummage through his drawer until I find a pair of boxers, which I pull on as well, and when I look up he’s facing me again, which startles me. The perfect timing makes me wonder if he’s been watching me, but I shove that thought aside.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome. Now, why are you here?” He’s recovered his calm, and we both act like his mother isn’t bleeding to death on his floor.

“I’m looking for Josh.” My honesty causes him to flinch.

“And why the Hell would he be here?” he asks.

“I just thought…I mean, you hang out together sometimes and…and…” I should have found a way to call him before rushing over here. But it doesn’t matter. Not really. I’m glad I’m here. I can stop Cam from doing this. I can reach him, finally. I know it.

“Did he run out on you?” he asks, misunderstanding. “Josh is selfish that way. I would never do that, you know.”

“Cam—”

“Was it the play that made you fall for him?” he asks, picking up my discarded costume off the floor. “What did he do that made you change your mind?”

“He’s my soul mate,” I say. I know it sounds childish, but in our case it’s true. Our souls are connected. When I say this, he crushes what’s left of the delicate fabric in his hands and cries out in pain.

“Cam!” I yell, unsure what’s happening. But as he draws his palm back, blood flowing from the center, I see the metal point protruding from the gown and gasp. He glares at me, sucking at the wound, then pulls the knife carefully out of the pocket.

“Planning something?” he asks. His voice sends chills racing down my spine, and I back up slowly toward the door.

“No! It isn’t like that. I was frightened. I wanted to protect myself.” I search for the right words to explain. But his eyes are blazing as he meets each step I take backward with one toward me.

“I know exactly what it’s like, Grace. It’s just like she said. Everyone I’ve ever touched is poisoned by me. That’s why you’re willing to hurt or kill me. Maybe I’ll have to cut that poison out of your heart.” He grabs for my wrist, raises the knife with its bloody tip, and I scream.

Her screams drove me mad, but their absence is killing me. Every time I try to rush the house, the flames leap out and lick my skin, sending unbearable pain shooting through my body. I fall back each time, unable to stand it, dousing my arms in the snow. The fire is playing with me. I can almost hear it laugh with each attempt. Or maybe I’m going mad. I’m not sure it matters either way.

My mind races for a way to get through. The only thing that can fight this is something of a divine nature. Visions of Shelby’s tiny silver cross flitter through my mind along with priests sprinkling holy water. Unfortunately, anything that can kill this blaze will take me right along with it.

I stumble through the snow toward the window of Cam’s room, desperate to get a look inside, and afraid of what I’ll find. But the fire wants me to see, and it pulls back, leaving me a small circle through which the room is visible.

I see Mrs. Frasier’s body on the floor, see the elegant velvet box still open on the desk, see Grace lying on the bed. Silver duct tape covers her mouth and binds her wrists and ankles. Watching her struggle against it sets my eyes ablaze. My fists clench with fury as I realize she’s dressed in his T-shirt and boxers. I don’t want to know how this came to be, but I do know that as soon as I’m able, I will rip Cam limb from limb until he’s a mass of pulp lying on the floor.

I punch toward the window, but it’s like the fire sees it coming. It pools around my fist and throws me back into the cold, white ground, writhing in agony. Tears of frustration drip from my eyes, sizzling against the snow. He’s made sure there is nothing I can do. I’m as helpless as when I was standing frozen in this spot. He didn’t need me for anything. He only wanted me to suffer. Knew I couldn’t keep from watching, from trying to stop it.

I push myself to my feet again and move toward the window, unable to give up. I don’t bother trying to halt my crying. Grace deserves these tears. She’s still there, struggling against her bonds, and I wonder where Cam is.

I don’t have to wonder for long as he pushes himself up from the other side of the bed, dusting off his hands as if he’s been doing some hard work. I know what he’s done. What he’s planning. I try to contain the beast within me that claws against my ribcage, fighting to let loose.

Visions of Tommy swim through my pounding head. How he howled in pain when the lid was closed. How I buried him hours later in the woods, his blood soaking through the sheet I’d wrapped him tenderly inside.

“NO!” I scream, throwing my hands against the glass. Pain sears my palms, and I am yet again thrown backward into the snow. I clamber back up to the window, but it’s as if I don’t exist. Cam is smiling down at Grace. She’s stopped struggling now. The only part of her that refuses to be still is her chest as it rises and falls with each heavy breath.

I run to the back door, slipping on the porch steps and hitting hard against the railing. A mini avalanche slides off onto the ground, and I fumble my way forward toward the door.

The flames lick hungrily outward, baiting me. I rip my tuxedo jacket off of my back and huddle beneath it, sheltering my head and arms.

Then I charge.

The same scorching pain slices through me, and my body tries to shut down, fall to the ground and writhe in pain like it always does, but I refuse to let it.
The pain doesn’t matter
, I tell myself. Grace is what matters. The intensity of the blaze passes through the flimsy material of the jacket, searing my skin, but I push through with all that I have. My momentum carries me forward, and I end up in a heap on the kitchen floor, struggling to rid myself of my smoldering jacket and rolling against the linoleum in search of relief for my burning back. I hear a scream and fear for Grace, only to realize that it’s coming from me.

The pain is blinding, and I tear at my arms, trying to throw the flames from my body so I can continue searching for Grace. I have to get to her. It’s the drive to find her that gets me through the incomprehensible pain. It recedes slowly, along with the blue fire, and my vision returns.

That’s when I notice Cam standing over me, laughing and clutching a knife.

Fighting Cam is a bit like struggling against the pull of the tide. He may be wiry, but he is strong. I imagine the adrenaline pumping through him makes him doubly so. I wish I had my Angelic powers. I wish for many things as he throws me on my stomach and presses his knee into my back. I hear the drawer open next to my head and then slam shut. I’m babbling. Searching for the magic words that will make this all go away.

“Cam, you don’t have to do this. It’s me, Grace. I would never hurt you.”

“You hurt me worse than anyone else. You toyed with my heart, and yes, Grace, I do have to do this. I very much do.” Apparently I’ve chosen my words poorly. He pulls my hands behind my back, and I hear the ripping sound of tape before I feel the sticky stuff against my skin.

I pry a hand away and reach toward the nightstand, but he yanks it back and wraps my wrists so tight my fingertips go numb. I start to cry as he does the same to my ankles and turns me over to face him.

“Please,” I say. I don’t know what else I can do. “Please don’t do this.” He strokes my forehead, brushing the hair from my eyes as I shake uncontrollably.

“Shh,” he says almost tenderly. “Everything will be fine, Grace. I see it all very clearly now. I see that meeting you was no accident. I knew right away you were special. I’m meant for something great, and you are the one who’s going to lead me on my path to glory. You should be proud.”

I scream again. It’s the look in his eyes that makes me do it, and I cannot stop. I’ve seen it happen to the Devil and to Josh. But never have I known a human’s eyes to glow red.

He fumbles with the duct tape, pressing a piece down across my mouth, shutting away my sounds, though my body continues to shake, wracked by silent terror.

He leaves my side and I struggle, trying to break free to no avail. Ignoring me, he dives beneath the bed and begins dragging something large and heavy out into the space between the bed and the door.

I force myself to think. I glance around the room, searching for some hint as to how to get myself out of this. I should never have come. I should have known better than to take bait set out by Lucifer himself.

For a split second, I see Josh’s face in the window. Is it my imagination, desperate for some reprieve? My heart beats into my throat as I wait, unblinking, for another glimpse. Maybe I saw his face because he’s the one I’m longing for in these terrifying moments. But then I feel Cam’s hand on my forehead again, and I jerk my head to the other side, where he’s smiling down at me.

“We have all day together, Grace. And I want to start by showing you what you’ve put me through. You want to understand me, right? Now you’re going to feel my pain.” I shake my head from side to side, a silent “no.” But he lifts me up in his arms and pivots to set me down on the ground. No—it isn’t the ground. I’m being placed inside of a box. I panic, thinking it’s a coffin, and I start to struggle again, imagining him burying me alive.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Cam says. He kneels down, squeezing next to me, and I see he’s holding the knife. My eyes widen in terror, but he only slices through the bonds on my ankles. I think for a wild moment that he’s changed his mind, but then he straps me down inside the box. He repeats this gesture with my wrists, and I manage to scratch his face, but he barely notices as he straps my arms down next to me. Then I feel the squeeze around my waist as he cinches the last strap, forcing the air from my body for a moment.

“This won’t kill you. Not yet, I’m saving that for later. But it will make you wish it did.”

I’ve never felt terror like this. I’ve never felt so out of control. Tears stream from the corner of my eyes as my heart thumps against my ribs, trying to escape. But it’s as trapped as I am.

That’s when we hear a noise. A crash from somewhere near the kitchen. Cam’s lips form a thin line as he seems to debate whether he should leave me or not.

“I’ll be right back, Grace.” Cam strokes my cheek and then disappears from view.

My breath comes in short, powerful gasps as I eye the blade Cam clutches in his fist, its tip covered in blood and threads of silver tape. Then I look at him cackling like a maniac. I jump to my feet in one swift movement, seizing the weapon from his hand and tossing it to the side like a toy. Instantly, Cam is thrust against the wall, with my arm to his throat. His face turns blue, and I see real fear in his eyes as my own burn with fury unimaginable until this moment.

He isn’t laughing anymore.

I press against his windpipe, enjoying the struggling sounds he makes as he tries to draw a breath.
Not so fast
, I tell myself. He needs to suffer. I let up until I can see the color creep back into his cheeks.

“G…G…Grace,” he chokes out, and I drop him like a hot poker.
Grace
. I race back to his room and nearly trip over the box.

She’s there, inside. I fall to my knees, thanking whoever listens that the lid isn’t closed. I rip off the duct tape covering her mouth. She coughs as I begin snapping the restraints like they’re made of construction paper.

“Josh,” she says my name, relief written in her eyes.

“It’s OK now,” I say. “You’re going to be OK.”

“Aww, how sweet.” Cam has worked his way into the room and is fingering the velvet box on the desk. I ignore him, lifting Grace in my arms and turning to leave. She buries her head against my chest and cries softly. “I hate to interrupt the tearful reunion, but I must insist you turn around.”

I stop and turn slowly to face him, setting Grace on her own two feet. She wobbles and clings to me. I keep an arm around her, afraid of letting go.

“You’re going to regret asking me to turn around,” I snarl. I let my eyes burn and watch for his reaction. This time, though, he only appears fascinated.

“What are you?” he breathes.

“Your worst nightmare.” I feel Graces arms tighten around me, and it is all that keeps me from launching myself at him.