Everafter (Kissed by an Angel) (7 page)

“You drink too much,” he said. “You’re out of control.”

Kelsey pulled away from him. “But I didn’t, not tonight.”

“Come on,” Ivy said to her roommate. “I’m taking you home.”

Bryan placed a restraining hand on Ivy’s forearm. “I’ll take her.”

“I’m headed there anyway,” Ivy replied, and removed
his hand. She wasn’t about to let him drive off with another girl whom he feared was beyond his control.

Bryan wedged himself between Ivy and her roommate. “Well, Kelsey, if that’s what you want,” he goaded her. “Kate’s here—you remember her, Max’s neighbor. And hot little Sophie. I won’t be bored.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Kelsey answered dully.

Bryan shot Ivy a suspicious look, as if she was to blame for his inability to stoke Kelsey’s jealousy.

“I don’t know where my purse is,” Kelsey said to Ivy, looking and sounding helpless.

“No problem,” Bryan answered quickly. “Ivy and I will look for it.”

Before Ivy could step away, Bryan grabbed her. She could feel the pressure of each finger on her arm as he forced her to walk with him to the hall, then dragged her into the room across it, a home office. He backed her into a filing cabinet.

“We had a deal.”

“A deal I’ve kept,” Ivy said.

“Then what’s gotten into her?”

Ivy shrugged. “Sometimes people just get sick.”

“No, there’s more to it.” Bryan peered into Ivy’s face, his own face so close she could smell the beer he’d consumed.

“Don’t blow it now, Bryan. You were pretty smooth with Chase.”

“Interfering moron!”

“Don’t crack the first time your girlfriend goes moody on you,” she said. “I thought you were cooler than that.”

Bryan pulled back but kept his eyes locked on hers. “If you’re lying, I’ll find out.”

“I know you will—that’s why I don’t. Now let me get Kelsey home before she throws up.”

Ivy ducked past him and, to her relief, saw Beth and Will hurrying down the hall toward her. At the same time a text came back from Dhanya:
CHASE IS ACTING OBNOXIOUS. WAIT FOR ME. GOT K’S PURSE W/ MINE.

The five of them rode home silently. When Dhanya and Beth took Kelsey up to bed, Will lingered on the doorstep to ask Ivy if she was okay, then headed to his room.

Ivy’s mind was too full of things to be sorted for her to join the others inside. And she was anxious for her roommates to go to bed so she could slip away to Tristan’s. She sat on the swing for a few minutes, rocking back and forth, then pushed off from the bench and walked the path through the inn’s large garden. Tonight, in the moonlight, the yard was a shimmering silk screen in black and white.

The cottage door opened and Beth emerged.

“How’s Kelsey?”

“Not great, but not getting any worse.”

Beth joined her in the center of the garden. “Ivy,” she
said, “when Gregory was taking over my mind, I had headaches like that.”

Ivy nodded. “And Chase had the same kind two nights ago at the ice rink.”

“You think it’s Gregory trying out different hosts?”

“I don’t know.” With one finger, Ivy riffled the delicate blossoms of a tall cleome. “I’m surprised that Gregory would try to possess either of them, when there are easier targets available.”

“Like Dhanya or Max,” Beth said. “I’ve been wondering about that too. I can’t get a good read of Max—there’s something about the way he looks at me. . . .” Beth shrugged. “But I think, for Gregory’s purposes, Dhanya may be too easy a host. She’s susceptible to anyone who tells her what to do, which makes it hard if you want to be the only person calling the shots. And Gregory does.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

They continued along the path through the garden. “Chase may not seem like an ideal candidate, and he would fight Gregory at first,” Beth conceded. “But Chase is needy and ambitious. Needy people are always vulnerable to others. And ambitious people can be seduced, because they want something they don’t have.”

“Gregory would know how to play that combination,” Ivy agreed quietly.

Reaching the inn, they circled around the edge of the
garden. Beth stopped at the trellis of moonflowers, reaching with her hand to cup a fragrant blossom. Ivy knew the vine was Beth’s favorite, for the poetic reason that its large white flowers began to bloom at dusk, when the rest of the garden was fading.

Beth leaned close to Ivy and lowered her voice. “Tristan’s nearby, isn’t he.” It was spoken as a statement rather than a question. “And you have some reason for not telling Will and me where.”

Ivy debated once more what was best for them. “Knowledge is dangerous, Beth.”

“But we can help you,” she insisted, “if you would only let us.”

Ivy shook her head. “Not yet. I know you’ll be there for me the moment I ask.” Ivy hoped she would never have to ask; her friends had been through enough.

“Will and I were talking about you tonight,” Beth said. “We want you to wear my amethyst. It helped me; maybe it will help you.” She reached back with one hand and slid the delicate chain until she caught the fastener, then unlatched it. “Turn around.”

Ivy did and felt the small weight of the pendant against her chest. Her eyes pricked with unexpected tears. Will and Ivy’s gift to Beth, a sign of their love, had become Will and Beth’s gift to Ivy.

Beth turned Ivy gently by the shoulders. “There. Looks
good.” Beth smiled into Ivy’s eyes. For a moment Ivy felt the peace that comes only in the presence of a friend who can read your heart.

“I’m headed to bed,” Beth said. “Tell Tristan that Will and I send our love.”

IVY DIDN’T CALL TRISTAN UNTIL SHE REACHED THE
intersection of Cockle Shell Road and Nauset Heights. “Hey,” she said, “did I wake you up?”

“No. I was just about to start Lacey’s movie.”

Ivy smiled. “Keep the volume down, or you might not hear me whistling for Billy Bigelow.”

“You’re coming?”

The joy in his voice went straight to her heart.

“Yes, by foot. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

A kayak trip, a half mile across Nauset Harbor rather
than the two miles by land, would have been much faster, but having used that mode twice before, Ivy didn’t want to attract attention with another middle-of-the-night paddle. Carrying a backpack stuffed with supplies, she walked briskly, following a roundabout route through tree-lined streets to the other side of the harbor.

As she turned from Beach Road onto Brick Hill, she paused to shift the weight of her backpack. That’s when she heard it: the soft sound of crushed leaves, a hasty step backward into the brush alongside the road.

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. Bryan? Or was it Chase possessed by Gregory, tracking Ivy and hoping to find her “new” love?

Fighting the urge to turn around, she walked on steadily as if she’d heard nothing, but her mind raced to figure out who was following her and why.

A car’s headlights brightened the roadway, and Ivy stepped quickly into a cluster of shrubs. She waited until she could no longer hear the engine, before emerging from the bushes. Amid the chirp of crickets, she heard stones crunching underfoot as her pursuer stepped onto the edge of the asphalt.

When Ivy had left the cottage, she had taken the route through the woods between Aunt Cindy’s place and the main road. So whoever was stalking her had already had his chance to grab her. And he had another perfect opportunity
now, she realized, on the dark stretch of road as she passed Ice House Pond. But he wasn’t taking it. He wasn’t going to hurt her, she reasoned, because he first wanted to see where she was going.

She approached a familiar triangle. The road bending to the right led to Tristan; Ivy took the fork to the left.

Checking the position of the egg-shaped moon, she tried to remember the layout of the roads. On a map Nauset Harbor looked more like a river than a harbor, bending back on itself as it meandered inland, becoming Town Cove, with homes along the shore and a series of public landings. She headed in that direction.

She longed to face down her pursuer. The tension of continuing on calmly wore on her nerves and turned her fear into anger. She kept reminding herself that Tristan’s safety was what mattered. Rather than confront, she had to deceive the person looking for him.

She was near the cove now, and she started searching for just the right house, one with window shades closed and no car or lights, a place where a fugitive might be hiding. She began to think it was impossible, then she saw it—
perfect
—with its grass too long and a piece of advertising stuck in the frame of the door. Ivy circled the house and deposited her pack of supplies on the back step. After three sharp raps on the door, she hurried on, hoping to gain enough separation to turn around and observe her stalker.

She was about a hundred yards down the road when an alarm went off. Ivy turned back and saw the blinking floodlights. The house where she’d left the backpack had been wired! Her pursuer had probably forced a window. The lights in neighboring houses came on. Ivy laughed to herself and took off for home.

She ran all the way, figuring that her stalker had rushed off to his own safe harbor. She knew Tristan would be worried. As soon as she reached the inn’s parking lot, she rested against her car and pulled out her phone.

A branch snapped underfoot. She spun around.

“Hello, Ivy,” Chase said, emerging from the trees. He was out of breath. She guessed that he had taken the route through the woods, while she had kept to the main roads.

“Chase.” She studied him, looking for some sign that Gregory was possessing him. “What are you doing here?”

“Following you.”

“Really?” she replied with false cheerfulness. “Then you’re back to where you started.” Sliding her phone in her pocket, she felt for her keys. The car key had an alarm button.

“Ivy, if you keep running supplies to Luke, sooner or later the police are going to catch up with you.”

“Especially if you tell them,” she said.

“I can help you, Ivy.”

“No thanks.”

She started to move past him, but he reached out and pulled her back by the belt loop. It was one of Gregory’s habits. Ivy’s skin crept.

“It would be safer for you if we worked together,” he said.

His eyes were normal, but his voice . . . That was it, she realized. The darkness was in his voice. Still, she continued to speak to him as if he was simply Chase. “Luke is an accused murderer. I wouldn’t recommend that you help him.”

“I would enjoy it,” he replied. “I’m a great admirer of murderers, especially those who do it with passion. They’re powerful. With their own hands, they squeeze out life, even that of the people they once loved.” Chase slowly flexed his fingers, studying them, then smiled at Ivy. “Admit it, Ivy. You like bad boys.” He moved his face close to hers.

Ivy turned away, revulsion thick in her throat.

His laughter was harsh. “All right,” he said. “We can pretend, if you want to, that I don’t know what’s inside you, and that you haven’t guessed what’s inside me. But never forget: I know you, Ivy, your secret dreams, your secret fears—I know the most hidden part of your soul.”

Ivy crossed her arms in front of her, feeling exposed, her spirit as well as her body. “Just leave Luke out of this,” she said. “This is between you and me, Gregory.”

His fake smile disappeared. For a moment the eyes that
Ivy gazed into were as empty as the sockets in a graveyard skull. She felt as if she was peering into hell.

“Till we meet again,” Gregory said, then turned and left.

“IN CHASE!” TRISTAN REPEATED INTO THE PHONE. “IVY,
are you okay?” He had been pacing for the last half hour, knowing that something was wrong. It wasn’t like Ivy to be late and not call. “Where are you—I’ll meet you.”

“No, really, I’m fine. I’m just outside the cottage. Can you survive on the supplies you have?”

Tristan glanced at the pile of candy wrappers on the table next to the recliner. “Sure. One of the kids left a stash of Snickers and chocolate chip granola bars in the back of his closet.”

“They didn’t leave anything better in the kitchen cupboards?”

“You mean anything better than chocolate and nuts?” Tristan sighed loudly into the phone. “I guess I could look.”

He heard Ivy laugh. Tristan’s heart had finally stopped pounding with fear. Sitting on the couch, he stared at a muted video of Lacey racing through a house of bizarre-looking squirrels.

“Gregory doesn’t seem to have any idea that you’re in Luke’s body,” Ivy said to Tristan. “He was telling me about his admiration for murderers. Maybe he thinks I’ve finally developed good taste in guys.”

Tristan laughed roughly.

“But you know how he works,” Ivy went on. “He goes after anyone who’s close to me. You’re probably number one on his list. Or maybe, since he thinks you’re a killer, he’s looking for an ally. Anyway, it’s just a matter of time till he finds you.”

“I look forward to it,” Tristan replied. “I’m tempted to take a long walk on the beach west of the church. That’s where you said his house was, right?”

“Tristan, no! Don’t even joke about it.”

Tristan crumpled a candy wrapper into a tight little ball. Hour after hour, day after day, waiting, unable to do anything—

“Tristan?”

“I heard you.”

He had spoken too sharply; her sudden silence told him that.

Tristan got up, climbed the short flight of steps to the kitchen, and started opening cupboard doors, scanning their contents with a flashlight. “Lots of healthy stuff here,” he said into the phone. “Tuna fish, pasta, cans of soup. So don’t worry.”

“Good.” She sounded relieved. “Listen, Mom, Andrew, and Philip are coming to the inn tomorrow, just overnight before they head up to Boston. It’s going to make things a little complicated.”

“I understand. I want you to stay safe and hang out with Philip.”

“I love you, Tristan.” Her voice quavered.

“I love you, Ivy. Always.”

After hanging up, Tristan opened a can of tuna, ate a forkful, then put it in the fridge. Carrying his flashlight into the living room, he shone it on a quaintly illustrated map that hung above a chest. Tracing its roads with the narrow beam of his light, he located the old church, the public beach where Mike Steadman had been struck dead, and the private beach west of it, where Gregory now resided.