For Ever (18 page)

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” a
voice calls into the darkness.

I dive behind a bush and try to curl up as
small as possible, clamping a hand over my mouth to quiet my
breathing.

“Hey! We just want to talk,” another voice
calls.

More laughter. The voices are getting closer.
I pull out my phone, afraid to dial or make the slightest sound.
Hearing their footsteps squishing several yards to my right, I hold
my breath.

“Mike, man. Let’s take off. This is crazy.
We’re in a cemetery.”

“
Shut up
! She’s out here
somewhere.”

“The chick maced you! Let it go.”

I listen closely as they argue. It sounds
like they’re moving in the other direction. I try to make myself
smaller, waiting for the chance to use my cell phone. As my
breathing begins to even out, I swivel, looking for an escape
route.

“
Gotcha
!”

I scream as a hand grabs me roughly under the
armpit and hauls me around the bush.

“Guys, I’ve got—”

Using my free arm, I swing back and up as
hard as I can with my elbow. My attacker yelps, and the hand that’s
gripping my arm loosens. I tug hard and lurch forward. My heart is
racing, and I know I can’t outrun them—not for very long, anyway. I
aim in the direction of the lights over the crest. There must be a
steep drop off ahead, but I decide to take my chances. Falling to
my death is probably better than the alternative.

The outline of a statue comes into view, and
I aim toward it, pressing harder. A second later, I slam into a
wall at full speed, the force of impact sending me reeling
backward. With the wind knocked out of me, I can’t even scream when
an arm wraps around my waist. Pressed face first into someone’s
chest, I feel a wave of heat cascade around me. Suddenly
everything, including the air, is sucked away as an explosion
erupts around me.

Blinking, I try to move, but I can’t feel my
hands or my feet. There’s dampness soaking through my shirt and
jeans. For a few horrible seconds, I’m sure that my spinal column
has been severed. Was I shot? Slowly my eyes focus, and I see Ever
Casey kneeling over me. His hands are on my shoulders, and he’s
shaking me gently. The look on his face is …
terrified
? I
struggle to make sense of things, but I can’t.

He lifts me into a standing position and
continues to hold me upright like I’m some kind of specimen he’s
examining for damage. Dazed, I let my eyes wander. It’s dark, but
in the distance, I see the outline of a mausoleum. With a jolt, I
remember where I was—and who was here with me.

I tug against Ever’s grip, and it loosens,
but only slightly. I swing my head around and see several forms
lying motionless in the grass a few yards from us. My eyes snap
back to Ever’s free hand, and I search for a weapon—for anything
capable of explaining the lifeless bodies next to us. There isn’t
any, but I know he did
something
. That much is clear. Again,
I try to wrench free of his grasp, but he doesn’t budge this time.
Instead, he starts propelling me across the grass with frightening
ease, even as I pull against him.

“What did you do?” I rasp.

“We can’t stay here,” he says evenly,
ignoring my question.

“Are they
dead
?” My voice rises in
agitation.

“I hope so,” he says through clenched
teeth.

I pull against him, harder this time. It’s
like I’m pulling against stone. As he continues hauling me along, I
get a sick feeling that he would just swing me over his shoulder if
I put up any more of a struggle. I see a black sedan parked several
yards away. When we reach it, Ever opens the passenger-side door
and lowers me into the seat. The door shuts behind me. Out of
habit, I try to reach for the seatbelt. Looking down, I stare
blankly at my fingers when they don’t cooperate. A hand reaches
across me and clicks the belt into place, causing my heart to
sputter. By the time I look up, the car is moving, and warm air is
blasting out of the vents. But I can’t stop shaking. My vision
blurs with tears.

My head rolls to the side as my mind replays
images that I never want to see again. I flinch when a hand gently
grips my chin and turns my head. I stare vacantly at Ever. His brow
is knitted like he’s not happy with what he sees. When he releases
me, I return to staring into nothing. A few minutes later, the car
stops, and I see a gas station through the window.

Looking to the driver’s side, I find it
empty, but I’m still too unsteady to try to get out of the car.
Ever returns moments later holding a plastic bottle containing an
unnaturally colored liquid. He opens it and then holds it out to
me.

“Please,” he says, his eyes burning into
mine.

I raise the bottle to my lips with both
hands. The plutonium-green liquid tastes too good, like I haven’t
had anything to drink in days. I wonder idly why the flavor is
called lemon-lime when it doesn’t taste like either one. I drain
the bottle in a few seconds, and when I look up, the car is already
moving again. Bit by bit my head begins to clear.

“My friends!” I yelp too loudly within the
confines of the car.

He hands me my phone. I don’t even bother
asking how he got it from my pocket.

“Call and tell them you have a ride
home.”

Not seeing any other choice—going back to the
party isn’t an option—I scroll to Ashley’s number. But instead of
trying to come up with a story, I type out a short text message
saying I couldn’t find them and got a ride with someone else.

The car stops again and I look up, thinking
we’ve reached my house. My door swings open seconds later, causing
my chest to seize with an echo of adrenaline. Standing in front of
me, Ever holds out his hand, and I don’t know whether to run
screaming from him or thank him for saving my life—again.

“Please,” he says quietly. “I can’t take you
home. Not yet. You’re in shock.”

I’m about to argue. Then I realize that my
arms and legs are still weak and my ears are ringing. I take his
hand and a burst of heat rushes through me. I bite my lip and try
not to seem so affected by the contact. As we begin walking, I feel
his jacket come down over my shoulders. I look up at him
curiously.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He shrugs. A second later, my foot catches on
an unseen bump, and Ever wordlessly reaches out and steadies me
before I can go sprawling. We zigzag up a steep hill, and when we
reach the top, I see a structure. It’s a ticketing office of some
kind, but clearly this place is not intended for nighttime
visitors.

On the other hand, I’m still not convinced
that any of this is real. It’s more likely that the entire night
has been a strange dream.

“Where are we?” I whisper.

“The Japanese Garden,” Ever says.

We’re in Washington Park, I realize. My mom
and I had been planning to visit; we just hadn’t gotten around to
it yet. Of course, we had been planning to come during the daytime.
I watch as Ever continues walking, like the word trespassing
doesn’t apply to him.

“Are you serious?” I hiss.

I stop, idiotically waiting for alarm bells
to go off.

“You’re not going to be arrested.”

I smirk and follow him.

“With my luck, anything is possible,” I
grumble under my breath.

In the pale glow of the crescent moon, I can
just make out the silhouette of rolling grounds dotted with
well-manicured trees and bushes. As Ever leads me down a gradual
embankment, his hand rests lightly under my elbow until we reach
the edge of a small, irregularly shaped pond. Seeing a bench at its
edge, I walk over and sit down. Ever remains a few feet away,
leaning against the fence around the pond.

Under any other circumstances, this would
feel ridiculously romantic—the jacket around my shoulders, the
proximity to this strange, beautiful person, the moonlight. Then,
it hits me like a baseball bat. My thoughts aren’t private any
more. I look over, and Ever is perfectly still, his eyes sparkling
in the moonlight as he watches me. I stiffen.

“What happened back there?” I demand, shaking
off my silly delusions. “What happened to those guys? Did you … ?”
I swallow. “Did you really kill them?”

“Do you have any idea what would have
happened if I hadn’t found you?”

His tone is caustic, and I swallow.
Unfortunately, based on what I saw in that sociopath’s head, I have
some idea of what would have happened to me. I feel my eyes tearing
up again, and Ever’s eyes soften when he looks back at me.

“They will wake up tomorrow with a headache,”
he says finally. “It’s better than they deserve.”

“And what about me? Huh? What happened to me?
And don’t you dare say, ‘
You hit your head
,’ or I swear I’ll
hurt you.”

“Will you?” he says, a measure of humor
entering his tone.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s rather amusing that you’re
angry with
me
,” he shakes his head, “for what again
exactly?”

“For … making me feel completely insane!
Seriously, can’t you for once just make sense? Yesterday you were
so
mean
. And, believe me, I got it. I’m supposed to ignore
you even when you’re stalking me—why I don’t know. I mean, who am
I? Nobody. And really! I can’t see a damn thing in your head. Then
you just appear out of nowhere right before those guys …”

I stop and take a breath, because I’m
rambling, my voice is shaking—and I sound really nuts.

“I’m sorry for that,” he says, shaking his
head. “I should have known better than to leave you alone. It was
reckless.”

He looks away, but I continue to stare at
him, dumbfounded.

“You know, all I want is a rational
explanation. That’s it.”

He’s on his feet in an instant. Before I can
catch up to his movements in the dark, he’s towering over me.

“What if there isn’t a rational explanation?
If the truth isn’t something you want to hear? Have you
contemplated that?”

I jump up, even though it doesn’t even our
height difference as much as I would like.

“You know I have.”

“And what if I am
evil
?” he asks
menacingly. “What will you do then?”

He moves even closer, and I step back
involuntarily before forcing myself to hold my ground.

“Are you … ?” I stop, choking on the word
evil
. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. Ever’s
laughter wounds my pride.

“You owe me the truth,” I snap.

“I owe
no one
,” he snarls, his eyes
blazing for an instant.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I reach for
it, trying to ignore that my hands are shaking. Even worse, I’m on
the verge of tears. I look down and see that the call is from my
mom.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath before
answering.

“Hey, honey bunny. You home yet? You didn’t
pick up the home phone.”

I look at the time on my phone. A quarter to
midnight: almost pumpkin time. Which means Ever will turn into
what? I breathe in and fight to make my voice sound normal.

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you in the morning,
’kay?”

“Was your boyfriend there?”

I close my eyes and try not to think of the
person standing in front of me.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“All right. Sleep tight, baby.”

“Love you, Mom.”

I click the phone shut and stare down at it.
My anger and my fear—maybe all of my emotions—are spent. I decide
that if Ever doesn’t think I deserve the truth, then I just don’t
care any more. I turn away and start walking, scrolling to Ashley’s
number, hoping she and the others won’t mind picking me up in
Washington Park in the middle of the night—and that they won’t ask
any questions that I can’t answer, which is unlikely. But I don’t
have any other choice.

“Wren?”

When I turn, Ever is standing only inches
away from me. His proximity makes my blood rush, and I hate him for
it. I’m surprised when I look up at him, and his expression isn’t
cold or mocking. It’s conflicted, almost regretful.

“My behavior was—has been—inexcusable. I
apologize.” He shakes his head. “You seem to bring out the—”

“The worst in you?” I finish dryly, exhaling.
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll stop asking questions, but only if you
tell me how you flattened five guys in a second, because that’s not
even humanly … possible.”

As soon as the last word leaves my lips, my
head starts to swim with memories of the day I almost got hit by
the pickup truck. With startling clarity, I remember Ever’s face
above mine seconds before I thought I was going to be mowed down.
Using reality as my benchmark, I had convinced myself the image had
been my imagination. But he
was
there. I didn’t jump out of
the way. And the pickup truck careening away from me? That wasn’t a
dream; it was real.

Impossible, but real.

I breathe in, but the oxygen doesn’t seem to
make it to my brain. The ground is tilting beneath me, and I feel
myself sliding away from everything logical. Ever is still only
inches from me as the air around us begins to crackle with
electricity. Looking into the emerald greenness of his eyes, I
finally ask the question that has been in the back of my head since
I first saw him.

“
What are you
?”

“Wren? Are you up?”

My eyes fly open, the images of the nightmare
all too real—running until it felt like my lungs were going to
burst, the feeling of an arm grabbing me, the bloodshot eyes that
will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Blinking, I stare at the clock on my
nightstand. It’s ten past nine. But what day is it? My mom almost
never wakes up before me, and definitely not on a weekend. Hearing
the door creak open, I roll over to face her. I sit up when she
looks at me strangely.