Heartless (The Heartless Series) (11 page)

I
, I mean, not we.
I
should focus on what
I
know.

There is no we.

Just me.

Me.

Actually, I need to go somewhere with people and think. Think. Just think. That's all I want.

That's not
all
I want. I want none of this to be happening to me.

About ten minutes later, I end up at Mavis' Diner. It isn't anywhere fancy. Thank God it's open at two in the morning. I'm sure I look like death warmed over when I walk in and sit in the second to last booth. I don't want to sit in the last booth. It seems cramped and confined. This one doesn't. At least I can breathe here. Breathing is good. I like to breathe.

I'm sure Danika and Meg liked to breathe, too.

I hit my head on the table. Will this ever stop?

"Hey, you okay?" I expect it to be the waiter or waitress as one would, but when I raise my eyes to the speaker, it isn't. At least, I don't think it is. Unless teacher assistants moonlight as waiters. I guess they could.

Stop!

"Hey." I rub my eyes and try to regain some sort of sanity because it isn't the girl T.A., who is very cute in her own right. It's the boy T.A. who is drop dead handsome and looking at me with a sort of sad and confused puppy dog look. Oh God, what's his name?

"I saw you coming in. You look a bit—" He stopped talking. I guess because what I look like isn't something you call a lady. Because if I'm nothing else, I'm a lady. "Well, you look tired."

"I've slept all day." It's true. I've slept most of the day. Had nightmares of Hart. Fought with Sam. Had weird Tina messaging visions. Yeah. A peachy, typical day. "I guess I just needed extra sleep today."

He sits across from me, and I didn't even invite him to. Just plop. There he is. In all his blue-eyed glory. "Nightmares?"

Whoa… just whoa. "Who said anything about nightmares? I didn't mention nightmares. Why would I sleep so much if I'd been having nightmares?" Could I say the word nightmares more?

He clears his throat and his cheeks tinge pink as he looks down at his hands, which are leaning on the table. I think I've embarrassed him. Him, a very much upperclassman. Wow, I've really got to learn how to use my powers for good on Sam.

My powers? I don't have powers.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed. I thought if you needed a nap in the middle of the day, either you were a very big preschooler or a person with nightmares who doesn't sleep well at night."

I wait a beat and squint my eyes at him. "Are you calling me fat?"

"What? No. I didn't mean that."

I laugh. I mean, it isn't a huge guffawing laugh, but it is a laugh nonetheless. I should ask him about my hand and Hart and whatever happened in Professor Mitchell's classroom yesterday. But I don't… not yet. I'm not ready for the crazy to come out. "I'm kidding. I know what you meant. And yeah, you're right I guess."

When he looks up at me, his eyes are soft and kind. They are warm and inviting. Again, I feel that warmth I felt earlier in the day. Like I can trust him. I stay so cold all the time and this is… well, this is nice. He smiles at me. Just a bit. Just enough to sort of make my toes curl. It's nice to be smiled at. To be looked at like that. Like I'm a pretty girl worthy of being smiled at. Not like how Sam looks at me now. With all that damn baggage he sees. All the disappointment and pent up… something.

Thinking about Sam makes the warmth cool a bit. I want it back. I need it back. The dude in front of me tilts his head a little to the left and smiles ever so subtly, and there it is again. Warmth. I could get used to this.

LUCIEN!

His name is Lucien. I remember now. Lucien…

Lucien, the guy Hart gave me the message about. Or the guy Hart told me to give a message to anyway. He stabbed my hand and then… My eyes automatically go to my hand. Not a scar. Not a scratch. Nothing. But it had been. I saw the blood myself when I'd been in the office with Lucien.

Danika had the same cut on her hand.

I guess I need to ask him about it. Seems the thing to do. Except he might totally think I'm off my rocker and tell me there never was a cut. Never was any blood. Wouldn't be the first time I saw a wound or blood that wasn't there.

Why did everything feel so off?

A very pretty blond haired waitress with the tiniest waist I've ever seen comes over to our table. She smiles really big, exposing her perfectly, white teeth and takes her pen from behind her diamond-studded ear. "What can I get ya?"

"Just coffee. Please." I answer and wait for Lucien to order.

"All right, darlin'. Give me a sec." She jots it down and disappears behind the counter. Weird. She didn't even ask Lucien.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again. The stupid puppy dog eyes draw me in.

"I'm fine." It should be my motto. I should tattoo it on my forehead so people would see it, so I won't have to say it all the time. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

"Do you want to talk?"

"I'm so not fine," I blurt out, then clamp my traitorous lips shut..

Why would I feel like I could talk to him? Because he makes me feel warm? Geez, that's creepy. And not healthy. And… who cares anymore? Gotta talk to someone, right? Yes! Yes, I want to talk, but I have no earthly idea where to start. It's my turn to stare at my fingers. "Have we met before?"

His brow slowly lifts. "Yeah. In Seth's class."

"Seth?" Such an informal way to talk about the professor.

He seems to notice his error right away. He straightens up, and his eyes get this wild look to them. "Professor Mitchell, I mean. I've spoken to you in his class."

"Yeah… about that…"

Lucien doesn't wait for me to continue. He leans closer. Since I'm just that kind of girl, I do the same. "I have a question for you first. Today in class… with… Gabriel. Have you ever seen him before? Maybe out of the corner of your eye or in your dreams perhaps?"

I scoff at him because he's being ridiculous and incredibly right. Well, sorta. "I've seen Gabriel… around. I mean, I think. I've never talked to him. Never dreamed of him. Not my type." Nervous laughter erupts from my throat, and I pray with everything I have for Lucien to not ask what my type is. Right now, my type is him.

His cheeks tinge pink again. "Good to know."

Good to know? What does that mean? Butterflies start to swarm in my belly, and I try to shush them. This is Lucien. He doesn't know I'm crazy yet. Just wait.

"Look." He places his hand on mine. The warmth feels so good. I relax and all my worries seem to just go away. I really like this guy, except for the creepy stalker vibes. Not my thing. Still, he makes me feel good. "I know this is difficult, but know that I believe you. If you tell me anything about that, or about Hart, I can help you."

I stare and fight every part of my brain that screams not to tell him a damn thing. "How do you know his name is Hart?"

"Here you go, sweetie." The waitress sits down a cup and pours my coffee. I smile at her, and she walks away. Again, totally ignoring Lucien.

I take a swig of my liquid awesomeness and set it back down. I'm fairly sure Lucien hasn't moved a muscle. He's staring at me. Trying to figure me out, I guess. I think it's time to change the subject. "You know, it's pretty rude for that waitress not to take your order. She acts like…"

One look from Lucien, one little tilt of the head and flare of the nose, and I'm done with the night. I'm. Done.

"She can't see you, can she?" Makes total and complete sense in the way that it doesn't.

He looks away, and I know. Ugh. I don't want to know.

"You're in my head. Like Hart. I'm seeing…" I push the coffee back and fight the urge to run away. Where would I go? You can't outrun what's inside you. "I'm insane, right? Of course, I'd be the person who asks the imaginary people camping in her brain if she's insane. If you answer me, does it make me any less crazy?" I grab my bag and start to stand. I can't take any more of this. Maybe I'll just find myself a nice tall bridge to jump from. That'll shut everybody up. Hart, Lucien, and those dead girls. That would make them leave me alone, right? It isn't like I haven't thought about it before.

Lucien grabs my hand and holds on tightly. "You aren't crazy. Not in the least, Gracen. What's happening to you… well, you have to trust me that I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was too late, but I'll fix it. I promise I'll fix it."

The pretty waitress is looking at me now from behind the counter. To her it's just me standing there with my arm all sprawled out in midair, nothing holding me down. Has she thought I was talking to myself this entire time? I'm sure she has. I'm sure…

I hate my life.

"Other people see you at school," I mumble, trying my best to be a ventriloquist and not have my lips move. Maybe that way Nosey Nelly the Waitress will find something else to gawk at. "Professor Mitchell…"

Lucien nods, his hand still clasping my arm. "I can be seen when I want to be seen. I'm not like Hart. I don't have to possess a body. Kind of a perk of not being him."

Possess… a body… Hart has been possessing a body?

"Me? Hart has been possessing me?" My legs feel like Jell-O, and I fall into the booth. I can't say I ever thought he'd possess me. Ever. Demon, yes. Possession? I guess I never wanted to think about it.

"You? No, Gracen. He can't possess you. No demon… well, nothing can. You are… you have no idea what you are."

"That's what Hart said." My voice sounds weak. I can't…

"He's right. He knows more than anybody what you're capable of"

"What am I?" I don't want to know, but I have to know. Two
things
have told me how special I am. I'm not special. Not in the least. I think my brain is finally cracking. This is it. I'm done.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"I have my orders." He leans back and his jaw tightens. Lucien, a good little soldier.

"Orders from who? From God? From—" I glance around the room "—the Devil?"

He flinches ever so slightly, and that's it. The only response I get.

Fine, I'll go with another tactic.

"What are you?" I ask because I can't stop myself.

A guy who I've seen people talk to in history class, or at least I think I have. Who the heck knows? He's sitting right in front of me in a diner, but the waitress can't see him. And he says I'm sane. Yeah… I feel totally and completely sane. I just love how I'm having these visions or hallucinations, or whatever the stupid things are, when I'm awake. Because that's fun.

"I can't tell you. I wish I could. I'm sorry, but know that you aren't crazy. I promise you aren't crazy. If you think you are, then Hart's doing his job well."

"What the hell does that mean?" The very few people in the diner turn very slowly around and look at me. "See," I whisper. "All these fine folks think I'm crazy. I must be crazy."

"You get your mental health diagnosis from the patrons at a rundown diner at two in the morning?"

I can't tell if he's being serious or extremely sarcastic. I choose sarcasm because that's something I can get behind.

"Hey, if the shoe fits…"

"If the shoe fits, great. If you hate it, find something in the same size."

I stare at him. "That makes no sense." Except it did. Darn it.

I take a deep breath, wiggle my fingers in a bit of a wave at everyone else in the diner and slide over toward the window with my coffee in one hand and my dignity in the other. Why me?

"Answer the question. If you won't tell me what I am, tell me about you. What are you? Who are you really?" I sound so tired in my own ears. I just want to rest. Rest without being killed every night would be epic.

"You know my name."

"Yeah, because the imaginary torturing machine in my head told me after he stabbed me. And I woke up in the office. And you saw the blood. And you fixed me. Tell me that was a dream too."

Lucien looks down. He seems to do that when he doesn't know what to say.

"And no one else in this place can see you except me. Right?" I whisper. I think I've been a tad too loud. They'll call the cops for a girl spazzed out on drugs in a minute if I'm not careful. "So that leads me to believe you're inside my head just like Hart. And it means the medicine isn't working anymore. It means I'm either going to be in a rubber room or worse before long." A tear escapes down my cheek, and I swat it away. I don't want to cry. Not here. Not now. Not with him.

"You aren't crazy." He says again. I can tell he's frustrated with me. Good. I feel the same way about him. "But something is happening to you. From what I can gather, it has been for a very long time if Hart already has his hold on you this much. The signs are all there. The full moon. The planets aligning. It's going to happen very soon."

"What?" I don't even care when Old Man McGee turns around to see what's going on. "What's happening?"

Like there's even a reason for me to ask. Lucien doesn't answer anything anyway. "Who does he tell you he is? In your nightmares. Who is he?"

Why should I answer? He sure doesn't answer me. I shouldn't tell him. This is something I've only ever told my mother. That's when she took me to the doctor. If I tell Lucien, it won't end well for me. I can already see it. He'll either walk away or worse… believe me. I've lived this long thinking it was just Hart. That I had this crazy weird nightmare world, but that was it. It was imaginary. And now that it's spilling out, it scares the crap out of me. Is it really spilling out, or am I falling in? What if I'm not even awake right now? What if I'm not in this diner, and I'm not talking to Lucien? What if I'm at home sleeping, and none of this is real?

"You deserve answers." Lucien tells me when I don't answer right away. His eyes are as watery as mine. It always breaks my heart when big strong men cry. Maybe that's why Lucien is crying. He would be if I imagined him. "I wish I could give you more. I wish I could give you
any
. Just know you're important. You are a vital part of this, and I'm going to help you.."

"Help me from what? From myself?"

"From
Hart
." When he says the name, his body flinches. "He's not a figment of your imagination. He's very real. He's a demon. A real demon. And he has his hooks in you. I can help you get him out."