Deadly Darlings (October Darlings Book 2) Page 8

  “If the demon from before was constantly after you, like if it never stopped after what happened to Marlowe. If it continued the entire time instead of coming back for my mom and me, and it put your friends in danger... would you have kept them?”

  Delia raises an eyebrow at me, her lips pursing, and I get the impression she’s trying to scrutinize me down to my bones, with how intently she’s staring at me. “What you’re asking me is whether or not Ellis and Sabrina are safe to stick around you, is that right?”

  “Uhm, yeah. Them or anyone else.” I crush the edge of the cuernito between my thumb and forefinger, choosing to watch the sugar scatter rather than meet Delia's gaze.

  “Darling, you put yourself through a time of it last year with the same dilemma, didn’t you? Safe or not, those two adore you. At some point, you’ve got to let people choose for themselves.” She smiles at me bracingly, but her eyes are tired and unconvincing.

  “Would you say the same thing if I was the ordinary one and dating Ellis might get me hurt?”

  Delia presses her lips into an even tighter line but refuses to respond.

  That’s what I thought.

  LEAVING DELIA’S BAKESHOP with a box full of food stowed in my back seat, and a few extra twenties she’d insisted on tucking into my hand for spending money, I take the quiet road out of town. Nix House rests at the center of a cul de sac just off the highway, its jet-black roof towering higher than its modern neighbors. A wide expanse of land separates one house from the next, each dwelling residing on its own plot of an acre or more.

  A little over a year ago, I moved back into my childhood home and absolutely hated it. Now the sleek paneled windows and the clowder of cats lounging in the grass below the porch are a welcoming sight.

  The wide porch swing is still empty, leaving a pang in my heart every time I see it, but it’s more of a skip than a sting nowadays. Losing one parent at such a young age was hard but losing the second one less than a year ago... well I’m doing okay working through it. That’s all I can do.

  Marlowe is at the front window before I’m fully parked, and several of Delia’s feral little beasts slink around the tires the moment the engine cuts off. The shutters open at my approach, translucent, lavender arms throwing them forward as my grandmother and great-aunts join my second cousin in welcoming me home. If there’s one great thing about being a clairvoyant, it’s this.

  As I step across the threshold, waves of nostalgia pull me fully into the house. Instead of facing my problems or seeking answers from family members I can’t bear to trouble any further, I let them regale me with stories of their own.

  The youngest of our unusual household is Beau; a once shadowed and half corrupted spirit previous clairvoyants had mistaken for being a danger to us all. But now, he’s just a sweet little boy. Too transparent and old-fashioned to ever belong in the world outside this house, but a perfect roommate here.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of playing hide and seek? You don’t play fair, kid! I can’t float or walk through walls!” I shout after him as he drifts down the downstairs hallway. Here, the ever-present chill that accompanies all supernatural activity is at its strongest, and I have to remind myself to walk slowly. None of my relatives would hurt me, but the older a spirit is, the more temperamental they get.

  Beau is, ironically, not only the youngest of the Nix ghosts, but also the one who has walked the earth the longest. And if he thought I was scared of him or tiring of his game... well I don’t want to deal with bursting light bulbs or portraits shaking off the walls. The demon that had torn at his soul left a deep wound that leaves him prone to outbursts far beyond that of a typical ghost. It’s almost as if he’s half poltergeist at this point.

  “You never play with me anymore,” he accuses me. His dark irises flash, and I’m struck again by the wonder of what color they were when he was alive. Everything about him now is shrouded in hues of violet, but before his eyes must have been some rich shade of brown. “I think you have forgotten how to play.”

  “No way!” I struggle to reassure him. These little glimpses of his temper are what helped me hone the little skills I have. You can’t have a chaotic spirit haunting the place and expect to keep your possessions intact.

  Shutting my eyes, I focus on the energy that runs through my veins. I like to imagine it as a brilliant pink, very nearly violet. Like a magenta gone mad. It’s electric and burning in a way that’s neither fire nor ice, but completely volatile, nonetheless.

  Exhaling through my nose, I stretch my palms out in front of me, imagining a bubble wrapping around Beau’s agitated form. He just needs to calm down. Just for a moment.

  His small fists beat against the invisible curves of the sphere I’ve got him safely cocooned in, and as I open my eyes, it’s simple to verify everything I pictured in my mind’s eye. I don’t need to see when I can sense, and my family is easier for me to attune to than any other entity I’ve encountered since coming into my talent last year.

  After a few moments, Beau gathers a long, shuddering breath, holds it for another couple of seconds, and then sighs, relaxing his whole body as he does. I lower my hands and allow the bubble of energy to dissipate, and as it fades, it pulls every edge of negative energy away from the space.

  “I’m sorry,” Beau mumbles. “Was I getting shadowy again?”

  Shadowy is the term Marlowe helped me coin to ease his worries about the demon coming back for one of us. Poor Beau endured watching it overtake generations of October Darlings, including Marlowe herself. It’s taken us the better part of a year to convince him it isn’t coming back. That he doesn’t need to try to protect us or worry about it injuring him again.

  “No, kid. I won’t let you ever go shadowy again.” I shake my head and wish I could wrap my arms around him. “You just got a little upset, but that’s okay. We all do sometimes.”

  And because I can’t hug him, Marlowe steps in. One day, I expect to end up haunting these halls with them myself, at least until it’s time for me to move on. I just hope that doesn’t happen for a long while to come. As much as I love Nix House, I’m not ready for it to become my purgatory.

  Chapter Seven

  ELLIS INSISTED ON DRIVING back to Blackwood, and Sabrina, chock full of gossip and excitement over our friend Eden’s possible move closer to campus, talked the entire way back, leaving me free to stare at the passing trees.

  How ancient and impossible some of them seem. They break up the sky with their arms pushing towards the heavens and bowing back towards the earth and into one another. At one point during the drive, I swear, the sky was invisible beyond an archway of intertwining branches. Like star crossed lovers, just out of reach of one another.

  It’s easier to personify the landscape than it is to face my own fears.

  Ramona’s grave question rings in my ears, threatening to overtake me with ugly truth. How selfish am I? Who do I love more? My friends... or just... me?

  Only luck keeps me from Ellis’ prying questions as we clamber out of the car. Yousef and Aimee happen to be passing by, and with a short amount of cajoling, they manage to sweep Ellis away to practice a new song with them.

  “Alright, if he’s going off to mess around on the guitar,” Sabrina decides, “I vote we dye our hair. I want to do something. Come on Addie, you’ve been pouting all day! Homesickness is no fun and I bet pink hair would be a great remedy,” she sings.

  “Uhm, thanks, but no. Pink isn’t exactly my color.” I pull the pastry box from the backseat and lock up the car, feeling heavier than before as I scan the parking lot for any sign of an invisible serial killer.

  “Fine then,” Sabrina pouts. “What about purple? You’ve done purple streaks before!”

  “Actually,” a male voice interrupts, “I was hoping I could get some time with Addie to talk about something.”

  Swiveling on my heel, I pop my ankle and cringe as Tomas comes into view. Two seconds ago, there was nothing but shadow between those two trucks, a
nd suddenly, poof! Here’s Erebus sibling number one.

  Sabrina widens her eyes. Maybe she’s insulted that Tomas isn’t into her? Maybe she’s worried about what I might say to him? It’s not like I’ve been super happy about his presence since we met. Whatever reason why, her gaping mouth is all the more reason to either get Tomas to go away, or to just follow him myself.

  “Maybe you could talk to me yourself,” I suggest. Switching the box to my hip, I shift my weight and leave my opposite hand swinging at my side. “I mean, I am right here.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Sabrina shakes her head. “I’m not waiting around to witness any more arguing! I got enough of that watching Miranda and Owen fight when we picked Ellis back up.” Clapping me on the shoulder, she grimaces and shrugs. “I’m out, girl. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Chewing on my lip, I debate following her. The courtyard is clear across campus, but we’re not so far from the classroom building from the other day that I’d be surprised by another haunting presence. But if Tomas’ theory is true, Sabrina being near me will be much more dangerous than trekking through the evening alone. Most ghosts are confined by physical limitations, but if this one’s anchoring to me... well I wonder how far it can stretch from the buildings.

  Deciphering the look of apprehension on my face, Tomas scoots closer and angles himself to where he can speak freely and not be heard by any passerby. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve got a few eyes on her.”

  Birds, he means. And it’s probably true. The campus is full of trees and I'd bet at least half of them host a few of his so-called friends.

  “Okay. So, what’s up? Are you here to share some more family history, or do you have an idea of what we’re working with?”

  Scowling, he pulls at the collar of his leather jacket and jerks his shoulders upwards. His eyes are like moonlight; cold and magnetic, and his hair is nearly blue in the dark. Orange lamplight barely reaches his back from where we stand in the shadows, and as he fixes the core of his attention on me, my stomach flips.

  Warmth travels to my face and I don't know what to do with my arms or how to stand. His gaze is so intense, my heart is pounding, and every worry and concern I’ve been struggling with all day is glossed over by one simple question. Who is this person in front of me?

  Tomas and Ramona both claim to be on my side, but like me, it’s clear they have their secrets. Add to that the quick fluttering of adrenaline that hits me every time I see Tomas’ face, and I’m not quite sure what the sides are. The only thing I’m sure about is one way or another, there’s something dark on campus that needs to leave.

  “I want to know what my sister told you today.” He frowns and glances behind his shoulder uneasily. The way he watches the trees behind him reminds me that he’s not the only one who could be using the birds for information.

  “Nothing,” I insist. A deep blush covers my cheeks profusely, and it takes everything I’ve got not to duck my head in an attempt to hide it. “Why do you live on campus?”

  Taken off guard by the change in conversation, Tomas jerks back. “What do you mean?”

  Raising an eyebrow, I edge back to unlock my car and shove the pastries into the backseat once again. “Uhm, I mean what I said. Ramona has an apartment and it seemed like it was big enough for more than just her. If y’all have that place, why spend the money to stay on campus?”

  A dark shadow flickers over his face, and his attention flits once again to the tree branches.

  I was right. He's worried about getting eavesdropped on. Just like how Ramona didn't want Tomas to realize she’d forced our introduction.

  What are they playing at?

  “Come on,” I shrug at my car, “get in. I’m tired of just standing around a parking lot. We can grab some coffee, okay?”

  Sure, it’s after nine at night, and there’s no way in hell I need caffeine right now. And maybe going out alone like this might not look so good. But I’m not about to play chicken with him while waiting for a violent ghost that may or may not show up at any minute. And besides, Ellis would understand. If I decide to tell him about any of this.

  My stomach sinks as I turn the key in the ignition. Being a clairvoyant means a great deal of things, but the hardest of them is the fact that I’m always torn in two. One foot with the living, the other with the dead.

  I love Ellis, I really do. But I can’t tell him that. Because the truth is... I know it’s wrong for me to cling to someone that won’t ever fully be part of my reality. He can sympathize, sure. He accepts me, which is more than I thought anyone would do... but honestly, I’m just not sure if that can hold us together in the long run.

  And besides all that, Ellis is the type of guy who I know is going to want marriage and family someday. His dream is to be a music teacher for crying out loud! He’ll want to move back home and settle down with someone who can be there for him in a nice, calm partnership.

  He’s not ready for any of that now, I know... but is it right for me to take his time up when I know that’s his end game? When I don’t even know where my life is going to head next? When I know my life is bound to be anything but calm?

  “Do you ever wonder how we end up with the families we do?” I ask Tomas as I turn left out of the parking lot. From beside me in the passenger seat, he hasn’t said a word about his questions or my previous one, but now I can feel his puzzled stare on my face.

  “Not often,” he murmurs. “Although I can admit I’ve always wondered why it was necessary that I have a twin. A few years difference between us might have been nice,” he complains.

  “You’re twins?” I glance at him as I pause at a stop sign, barely catching the large, black bird staring at us from the tree beside it.

  Besides their eyes, the two are as different as night and day. Ramona’s skin is at least three shades darker, and her nose is round and upturned, as compared to Tomas’ thin, sharp features and warm complexion. Their mouths, though both lush, are carved in almost constantly different expressions; Ramona favoring quick smirks and laughs, while Tomas’ grins are seductive and rare, overshadowed by the solemnity he carries with him.

  Although, that’s not quite right. He smiles often enough around Sabrina. I suppose it depends on whether or not he’s trying to be charming. With me, I feel like we’re both just in wary survival mode.

  “Yes, we are,” he answers. “Fraternal, obviously, and she’s a good four minutes younger... but a few minutes isn’t nearly enough. She’s constantly on my case and never fills me in on anything important. Which is why I was hoping to run into you tonight.”

  He turns his body my way, and in my peripheral, the movement is more of an accusation than anything else he's said tonight. “There’s no way the shifter thing would have come up organically in conversation, and I know you didn’t get a good enough look at her the night we met, or you would have said something earlier. Meaning there’s no way you should have known we’re related.”

  I set my jaw and focus on the road. I don't have much in way of loyalty to Ramona, but I also don't like the idea of Tomas just assuming I'll give him answers whenever he wants. Every time we've spoken has been followed with a series of demands or questions, and it sets my nerves on edge. My hands tighten on the steering wheel and the approaching lights off the coffee house stings my eyes.

  “Answer my question first,” I insist. “What’s the point in having two homes?”

  A wide window display is set with carefully placed fake skulls and electric candles. Beyond them, the inside dining area is set with marigold bouquets and miniature skeletal figures dancing before the napkin holders.

  Tomas unbuckles and stares at me in aghast. “I asked you first,” he exclaims.

  “Yeah?” I shrug. “So what? I’m more stubborn than you.”

  I actually have no clue if that's true, but a good bluff has got to work, right?

  Tomas narrows his eyes at me, climbs out of the car, by the time I turn the car off, he’s already at the door.
Lounging against the glass, he holds it open with his back, seeming to be the perfect gentleman as he waits for me. Only the twitch in his jaw shows how truly annoyed with me he is.

  Maybe he’s more stubborn after all.

  “You have to be careful with Ramona,” he reiterates after we’ve gotten our coffee. The cup in his hand is full of a bitter, espresso filled drink— extra shots added, and I can’t help but cringe away from it. Does he ever plan on sleeping?

  Sipping at my own reasonably sized latte, I let my gaze wander around the nearly empty space. A man is resting his weight against the bar as he waits for his order, a couple is cuddled in the corner admiring the dia de los muertos ornaments, and a woman in scrubs is speaking quickly with the young girl working the register. The walls are decorated with banners made of old coffee sacks.

  Within a few seconds, I’ve run out of things to look at.

  Unwillingly turning my attention back to Tomas, who is gulping down the scorching liquid like it's nothing at all, reach for Frank for reassurance. Either I’m fine or Frank's just being lazy, but either way, his small, iron body is still.

  “So, you keep saying. For twins, y’all don’t seem particularly close, but that’s not really my problem,” I tell him. “What is my problem is the dead guy apparently after my skin.”

  “If that’s the case,” Tomas counters, “then my living arrangement is none of your business. In other words, butt out.”

  “You butt out,” I retort. I frown and wrinkle my nose, and I’m just on the edge of sticking my tongue out at him as well, when the door to the coffeehouse swings open, bringing in the breeze.

  “Addie?”

  My shoulders lock into place as the puzzled voice hits my ears. Yousef walks into view, Ellis trailing behind him with an atmosphere of hurt confusion dripping off him.

  “What’s going on?” Ellis asks. “I thought you said you weren’t feeling well?”

  My ears are burning, and I can’t even imagine what my face looks like but the blood rushing through my temples is so loud, there’s no way in hell I’m not blushing.