Vendetta (16 page)

My heart inches to my thro
at, and though I'm saturated and shivering, I feel a presence behind me. I'm not alone. I close my eyes. And above the rain pounding the boardwalk, the waves lumbering in, I hear the warm breaths.

In a second I'm whirling to face her, knife poised.

A stron
g hand clasps my wrist, forbidding me to move closer.

My temper flares, suffering a rush of adrenaline. I blow an angry exhale.

"Seth! Oh My God! I almost
killed
you!" I scream above the storm.

"Good," he replies, releasing my arm.

"What are you doing?"
I hiss.

"She's not here." He surveys the boardwalk, shaking off the rain accumulating in his hair, running down his face.

"What do you mean she's not here?"

"They haven't seen her. No one has. She's not here tonight."

He means the Guardians. A spark of ou
trage ignites inside, burning.

"Then they aren't watching! I know what I saw!"

"I know you know what you saw," he counters. "But something's changed. She's either not here anymore, or she never was."

"What are you saying?" I ask, swiping my wet forehead w
ith the back of my hand.

"I don't know," he confesses. "Maybe she knows something. . . . Or she planned it. I don't know."

"She's testing me."

A fresh wave of anger washes over me.

Of course she's testing me. Teasing me. Why else would she send demons tha
t I can fight? Easy kills.

I move quickly down the gray planks, passing through the rain, crossing the flooded parking lot.

"Give me your keys," Seth demands. "I'll drive." I reach into my back pocket and toss them over the car. "Take off whatever you can
."

Inside, I slip off my wet sneakers and pull the
hoodie
over my head. My tank top is soaked beneath it. It falls to the floorboard, sloshing in a heap. Seth removes his shirt and tosses it in the backseat. He cranks the engine and immediately reaches for
the heat. The air blows cold at first. I move the vents away from my body, goose bumps intensifying at the sudden chill, teeth chattering. Seth pushes the gas pedal, revving the engine, persuading the motor to warm up faster. "It'll just take a second."

I
'm worried it'll take more than a second, though. The air conditioner is awful about going in and out. Sometimes working. Sometimes not. I've never even tried the heater.

I squeeze the water out of my hair.

"It wasn't raining in my vision," I tell him.

H
e glances over his shoulder, backing out of the space. "Somehow I don't think it would've mattered."

Seth eases past the curb, preparing to pull out into the street when I see it. "Wait!"

"What?"

"Headlights. There's someone coming. Park."

Seth kills the
lights, throws the gear in reverse, whips the car around, and pulls into an empty space. I turn in my seat, watching the road, waiting. Without the aid of wipers, it's impossible to see what's happening, or to know if we've been spotted, but my fears are c
onfirmed when the beam of headlights slows, and a car pulls into the driveway.

"Shit."

As if this night could get any worse.

I crawl across the console, facing Seth, straddling his lap.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"You're
gonna
have to trust me on this one."

I grasp blindly at the side of the seat, fingers grappling for the lever. A slam of a car door, and the seat falls backward.

"Kiss me."

I tilt his chin toward me as he wraps his arms around my waist. His lips are hard, wet w
ith rainwater, and driving into me. Fiercely passionate. I feel my eyebrows pull together, unaccustomed to this Seth. This careless, hungry, desperate Seth. But I close my eyes and let myself feel him just the same.

*
             
*
             
*

The rain has slackened to a qui
et drizzle by the time we pull back into Carter's driveway. The police officer let us off with a warning. Next time we won't be so lucky. Or so he said. I gather our wet clothes and my shoes and step back into the night air, barefoot.

Seth fumbles with th
e key to the pool house, the doorknob. I stand beside him, gritting my teeth, lips trembling, unable to keep my body from shaking with cold. The moment it opens he pushes me through. "Go."

The air is cooler inside, if that's even possible. Seth rushes to
the thermostat, and, in a matter of seconds, the air reeks of dusty smoke. The heater. Spring and summer disuse burning away.

The bathtub is filling with water by the time I arrive. Seth meets me at the door, lifting my damp tank top over my head, tossing
it to the floor. Chills dance across my skin. He feels my cheek with the back of his hand. I grab it, pressing it deeper into my face, stealing the warmth. 

He runs his thumb across my lips, eyeing me uneasily. "You're ice."

The mirror is already fogged
with heat when Seth shuts the door behind him. There's a massive struggle to peel off my soggy jeans, and my feet tingle when I step into the warm water, scalding. I close my eyes, sinking deeper, still trembling, waiting for the cold to melt away. 

N
INETEEN

I open my eyes and stare at the sky beyond the trees. The sun has already dipped below the horizon and the pool and patio are shaded with dusk. A breeze rustles the leaves overhead. I straighten one leg, lifting it out of the warm water.

"How
does it feel?" Carter asks, rolling the legs of his jeans up to his knees. He sits down on the edge, lowers them into the water, then lies down beside me.

"Perfect," I reply.

He turns his head, glancing my way, studying me carefully. It seems a habit of
his now, checking for new injuries each time he sees me. 

I'm fine
, I want to tell him. No scrapes, cuts, bruises to speak of today.

"Any news?" he asks. And I know he's talking about the
Diabols
. Viola.

"No. I
saw her—in my head, I mean—but then she didn't show up."

He turns back to the sky. "Can't say that I'm sorry."

"You and Seth are exactly the same," I mutter.

"Wow. I didn't realize caring about you—worrying about you—was such an awful thing. So . . . the
two of you are pretty serious, I guess," he goes on after a few, quiet moments.

"He would go to Hell and back for me."

Quite literally.

"Why are you out here, then?"

I shrug, shoulders lifting off the concrete. "Just needed some time. I don't know. It's
been crazy. Ever since. . . . Everyone's stressed. It's kind of driving me insane."

"We should do something about that," he says.

"Like what?"

He sits up. "I don't know a thing a cookout with friends won't cure."

A sigh.

"Seriously," he says, nudging my l
eg with his foot beneath the water. "We'll fire up the grill. Make a few phone calls. It'll be fun."

"Fun?" A bitter laugh. "God. I don't even know what fun is, anymore."

"Exactly. Which is why this is the best idea I've had all summer." He pulls his feet
out of the water and stands. They drip between us, pooling on the concrete.

"What about your parents?" I ask.

He hovers over me. "They're out. We'll have the whole backyard to ourselves."

It would be nice. To spend some time outside. Away from . . . everyt
hing.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Go get Seth. Joshua. Whoever. I'll call Selena."

I climb out of the pool.

Seth meets me at the door. "We have dinner plans," I announce. "Carter is grilling out." I push on the French doors and slip inside. Mara is sitting at the tab
le, sharpening knives.

"Joshua!" I call.

"He's inviting Joshua?" Seth asks, disbelieving.

"He's inviting everyone," I say. I glance at Mara. "Carter is putting together an impromptu cookout. You should come," I tell her.

"Oh. Thank you, but . . . no," she
replies, setting a knife aside. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"It wouldn't be an intrusion. You practically live here, anyway. It's just . . . friends. Hanging out."

That I've
called Mara a friend seems to surprise her. Her dark eyebrows pull together as she carefully considers the invitation. "All right. Thank you."

I slip on my flip flops, spirits lifting as I step back into the warm, summer night.

Carter is already at the gr
ill, cleaning it. A patio grill is too easy for the Flemings. Instead, they have a makeshift kitchen built into stone. A grill and stove top covered in stainless steel. A tiny refrigerator and wine cooler, a sink, cabinets.

"Selena is on her way," he says.
"Vivian is in Monaco."

"Lucky girl." I look around the patio, at the long table and umbrella, the fire pit. "What can I do?"

"I pulled out some sodas. They're on the counter." He nods toward the house.

I squeeze through the sliding glass door and step int
o the Fleming's breakfast nook, just off the kitchen. The house is quiet. Still. Perfect. Spotless. Shiny copper pots and pans hang from the rack above the island, and a stack of cookbooks is placed just so on the counter. It looks like something out of a
catalog. Livable, but never lived in, if that makes any sense at all.

I grab the two liters from the counter. When I return, Seth is at the grill, watching Carter.

"Did you find Joshua?" I ask.

"Yeah. He's coming," Seth replies.

"Was he excited?"

His smi
le widens. "You have no idea. We're apologizing in advance," he tells Carter.

"Hey, you should call James, too," I say.

Seth opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then shakes his head. "It's not a good idea to . . ."

I force my eyes not to roll. "Oh, come
o
n!
He already knows about you guys, anyway."

"Who is James?" Carter asks.

"Your Guardian. James!" I shout into the night.

"The problem isn't Carter," Seth says.

"So we'll make sure everyone knows not to talk about demons over our cheeseburgers and baked be
ans," I reply, shrugging casually. "Selena doesn't have to know. We'll pretend they're with you."

I feel Carter looking at me. "I have a Guardian?"

"Everyone has a Guardian," I tell him. "Unless you're a reprobate."

"Wow. I just thought. . . ." He trails o
ff.

"You're assigned a Guardian the moment you're born. James has been with you since the day you moved to South Marshall."

Seth heaves a sigh. In the next moment, he's gone.

"That's creepy." Carter studies the empty space where Seth was standing.

"You g
et used to it."

The gate to the patio slams shut, and Selena heads toward us in a pair of too-tiny shorts and a tank top, sunglasses perched on top of her head. The hours spent in the sun have turned her skin a warm brown.

"I brought dessert," she announce
s, setting a box on the counter. "As a guest of this little shindig I felt it was only right to bring something. All I'm saying is that you're lucky the bakery was still open."

I lift the lid. Nestled inside is a cake covered in chocolate icing. I run my f
inger along the outer edge, sampling the tiniest bit. It's a rich, dark chocolate, and it tastes like Heaven.

"What is
that
?" Selena asks.

I quickly replace the lid, caught. But she's not referring to me. She's watching the
guys—Seth, Joshua, James—crossing the patio.

"You know Seth. The other one is James. The shorter guy is Joshua. They're friends of Seth's," I say, smiling.

"Okay, and speaking of, I am de-
friending
you as of this moment, because I recall asking if your guy
knew anyone I might be interested in, and you said no."

I stifle a laugh. "These are not guys you would be interested in."

Can't
be interested in is more like it.