Chapter Two
Ash
I tugged my jacket just a bit tighter and pulled the sleeves down over my fingers. The faint scent of the buttery leather was comforting—which was something I needed. There was a very real chance I might vomit.
It was nearing November, and the bitter cold had come early this year. It kind of sucked since I was staying someplace sans electric. If tonight went badly, though, electricity would be the least of my problems.
I crushed the piles of dead leaves beneath my feet to stave off some of the silence. I’d come to the Doon to meet a guy—and not for recreational purposes—but he was late and I was starting to think he wouldn’t show.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. I stomped my foot until all the leaves beneath me were reduced to crumbles. Next, I started picking at the loose thread at the hem of my shirt. It was stupid. This was one of my last good ones. Since getting booted from my home, and cut off financially from my surrogate family, I was running on fumes. A new wardrobe wasn’t in the cards.
Thankfully—or, depending on how you looked at things, unthankfully—just when I was about to give up, the faint crunching of footsteps sliced through the silence.
“Ash?” someone whispered from the darkness. A few moments later, a familiar boy with brown hair and linebacker shoulders stepped into the moonlight. He stopped in the middle of the clearing and spun in a slow circle beside a large rock.
My heart hammered at light speed, and as I stepped out from behind the side of the tree, I had to remind myself to breathe. An insane moment of panic tempted me to step back into the shadows and run away as fast as my feet could carry me. But that wouldn’t do me any good. I had to face this thing head on. I had one shot and this was it. “I’m here.”
He made a move to come closer, but hesitated. It made sense. I was like a raging forest fire these days. Venture too close and you’d be incinerated. “It was a huge gamble calling me out, ya know?”
“I know, Corey.” I swallowed the growing lump of fear that threatened to choke me.
“Why did you even think I’d come?”
“I didn’t, but you’re here, so…” Honestly, I was beyond surprised he’d come. But, I’d had to try something. My best friend was dead and my life was in shambles. If there was a chance to fix it, albeit minute, I had to try. “Thanks for coming. I know you must hate me—”
“I don’t hate you, Ash. I don’t really know how to feel about you. Never did. Things with you have always been…weird.”
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. To keep from crying? Maybe just a little. The Anderson family took me in when I was just ten years old. Cora and Karl had been cold and distant, viewing me as nothing more than a publicity stunt, and their sons? Things got even murkier there. Corey and I had never hit it off. He’d always regarded me as more of an annoyance he had to put up with than an extension of his family. But his brother Noah? We’d clicked from moment one. He’d been my best friend. My rock. The one person who’d always had my back.
And now he was dead, and I felt like the entire world had been yanked out from underneath me. His being gone was bad enough, but the way it happened? The questions surrounding it—those were unbearable.
“Look.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze to the ground. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you and my brother, but whatever it was, no one really believes he’d kill himself over it.”
The fact that anyone would ever think that a guy like Noah Anderson would commit suicide was the most ludicrous thing in the world. And over someone like me? Sure. Maybe in an alternate universe.
I threw up my hands, a huge weight lifting from my shoulders. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone.”
He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine. There was sadness there, but also intense anger. “They think he was killed.”
Good. Finally someone was paying attention. I’d been saying this from day one. The whole thing was suspicious as hell. I’d spoken to him only hours before he was found. We’d arranged to hang out later that night. He’d said he wanted to talk… “There was something going on. He’d been acting weird, said he had something to tell me. Something—”
“They think you killed him, Ash.”
Everything stilled and the world around me grew silent. The wind ceased and the twitching leaves all stilled. The faint sound of traffic died away and left nothing but dead air in its wake. A new kind of pain throbbed inside my chest.
Noah and I had been…complicated. We’d had this weird push-pull thing going from almost the moment I walked through the Andersons’ front door. I was to him the freedom he so desperately wanted from his parents’ world, and he was to me the sense of connection, of belonging that I’d never had. We’d had an almost instant bond, but as we grew older, something else began to simmer beneath the surface. We talked about it once. Acknowledged it and agreed that it wasn’t something either of us ever wanted to explore. It’d be too weird, and neither one of us wanted to risk damaging the relationship that had become such a vital part of our sanity. But one moment changed all that. I was stupid.
I was selfish…
We’d been up late watching cheesy B-rated horror flicks—our Saturday night tradition. Sprawled out across his bed, popcorn all over the place. Noah’s hand resting on my hip…slowly moving up and down. My fingers playing with strands of his hair. I turned to look at him, to point out the stereotypical stupidity of the movie’s heroine. Our eyes met and my pulse went wild. I could still feel it sometimes. An erratic thumping that threatened to break me apart. My mouth went dry and every nerve ending turned into a live wire.
It wasn’t like I’d never thought about it. A girl would have to be blind not to. But each and every time it crossed my mind, I spent days mentally flogging myself until the fantasy was gone and reality had replaced it. But in that instant I wanted—no, needed—to know what he tasted like. He knew what I was thinking. Begged me not to do it. Ash, don’t… I’ll never forget the small noise of surrender that he made just a second before I pressed my lips to his. It wasn’t anything worthy of a porn marathon. A lightweight make-out session that was interrupted when Cora, his mother, walked in.
The next morning was awkward, and we’d both agreed that it would never happen again. On the one hand, it made me a little sad. The kiss was great, but I lied. I told him it was weird and clunky and left me feeling all kinds of wrong. Even though I’d never seen him as a brother, he was my best friend. The one person in my life I couldn’t bear to lose. I refused to put that in jeopardy for something purely physical. Because that’s what it was. When the dust all cleared, I knew that there were no feelings there aside from friendship. It was all I wanted from him—and I refused to destroy it.
“I killed him?” I repeated. I tamped down the memories and the horrible ache that came with them and focused on the absurdity of his words. “And why—how—exactly could anyone come to that conclusion?”
A week after the kiss, Noah had started acting cagey. He was jumpy and on edge, and I’ll admit it, a part of me worried that he was going to ask his parents to make me leave. I was concerned that maybe he didn’t agree with the hands-off rule, and that my presence in the house was making him uncomfortable now that we’d crossed a line we could never come back from. But when I confronted him, I knew that wasn’t the case.
“I have to talk to you,” he’d said. “I found out something—something you need to know… Just give me a few days to get my facts straight.”
Yeah. Three days later Noah was dead. Suicide.
He’d taken a handful of pills that had stopped his heart and left a note. It went into painful detail about his real feelings for me and how I’d rejected him. How he couldn’t live with it anymore. Cora threw me out—despite my protests that his feelings—and the letter—were pure fabrication. Even if I had rejected him, Noah was too damn stubborn to give up on life over some stupid crush. But she’d seen the kiss. That single moment of weakness was all the fuel she’d needed to grant validity to that absurd letter.
“Mom told the police about your relationship. How he tried to end things and you lost it.”
My mouth fell open. “What? That’s not what happened and you know it! We didn’t have a relationship. Not the way you’re insinuating. He was my best friend.” I fought back the tears threatening to spill and focused on the anger over his accusation. I couldn’t let him see me fall apart. “What happened between us was a onetime thing—and it wasn’t even a thing! It was a single freaking kiss.”
But Corey didn’t hear me. Didn’t hear me, or didn’t care. “She said he came to his senses. That he finally saw that you were using him.”
I stared. Forget about the insanity of the facts she was basing this all on, but what on earth could I have used Noah Anderson for? “Using him how?”
“You’re Bottom Tier, Ash. He was Top Tier. Someone like you will do anything to pull yourself out of the gutter. Your time was almost up and you were desperate.”
The Tier system had been started by President Capone in 1934. The Top Tier, the cream of society, was given all the advantages. The best schools, the best education. They were allowed access to the best restaurants and clothing stores. The Mid-Tier were just below them. They were given access to moderate schooling, adequate food and clothing. They were prohibited from entering Top Tier establishments, but they fared well enough with their own.
Then there was the Bottom Tier. People like me were given the leftovers. All the hand-me-downs. All the shit that trickled downward? Yep. That’s what we deserved. I’d been luckier than most. Each year one Top Tier family takes in a Bottom Tier orphan. They feed them, clothe them, and house them until they turn eighteen. After that they’re unceremoniously dumped back into the Bottom Tier trash drawer, but for a few short years, they get to live the good life. Usually it’s an infant. Some poor kid lost in the system. But for some reason, the Andersons chose me when I was ten.
“You know damn well that isn’t true!” While he had a point—latching onto a Top Tier citizen had, in the past, lifted a Bottom Tier through the ranks—the thought had never occurred to me. “I made a mistake, okay? We kissed once. It wasn’t like that with us.” I couldn’t help it. My voice shook.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what I think.” There was a tremble in his shoulders and a quake in his tone. “You guys played your twisted little game. If you were content to let him use and destroy you, then far be it from me to intervene.”
“Use me? Are you insane? It was one—”
“And for the record, I don’t think you killed him, Ash. I think he killed himself. I think my brother was a highly disturbed individual with more problems that he could ever get help for.”
That much was true, too. Noah Anderson had his demons—mainly when it came to family. He’d been known to dabble in recreational drugs and drank more than he should at times. He could be moody and dark and withdrawn, and he tended to take whatever toxic girl threw herself at him each week. But I’d always been there to drag him from the mire. He knew he could count on me just as I knew I could count on him.
At my side, my fingers twitched. I kept it together, though. Knocking the crap out of him probably wouldn’t get me what I wanted. Corey wasn’t a bad guy really, but he was blind as all hell. He didn’t deal well with conflict. “You know better than that. Something was going on…and I think it had to do with Infinity.”
He shifted from foot to foot. He stuffed his hands into his pocket, then a second later, pulled them out and began tapping his thigh. Code for I’m uncomfortable and am looking for a chance to bail. He glanced over his shoulder, then back to me. “I know what they do is a little controversial. Look, I have to—”
“Controversial?” Either Corey was knocking back the good drugs—which was actually the popular rumor these days from what I’d heard—or he was delusional. “Governments around the world pay them to skip criminals. They dump the worst of our society on the heads of unsuspecting others! If you ask me, I’d call it inter-dimensional terrorism. You know damn well how Noah felt about it. I think he found something and someone had him killed.”
His eyes bulged. “Someone? As in, who? My parents? The people who took you in and fed and clothed you? Is that what you’re saying?”
Was it? Cora and Karl had never liked me, and they treated their own children with a fair amount of detachment—but would they kill one? Just to preserve company secrets? There was a time I would have said no. Now? I wasn’t so sure.
“I’ve got no idea what they’re working on now, and honestly? I don’t care. I don’t care about your theories. I don’t care about Infinity. My brother is dead and I just want to move forward.” He sighed. Even if he believed me, he’d never say it. The guy had a notorious reputation for being spineless when it came to his parents. They said jump and he asked exactly how high. “You didn’t call me out here to rag on my parents. What did you need?”
I’d come here to get his help looking into Noah’s death, but it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe I could get something, though. “Ask your father to call this whole thing off.”
“Whole thing?”
Like he didn’t know exactly what I meant.
“This crusade to destroy my life.” Losing what little fear I had left, I stalked forward and poked him hard in the chest, then thrust my upturned wrist at him. “Get him to repeal this.”
They’d kicked me out, and that was fine. Despite living within the walls of their privilege, I’d learned how to fend for myself because I knew it wouldn’t last forever. But kicking me out hadn’t been enough. They’d demanded that I be listed. Listed individuals were outcasts. Branded by a black circle tattoo, we were shunned by society. Ghosts. It happened for many reasons and could only be repealed by a court of law—which would never happen. The Andersons owned the law. They were close personal friends of President Gotti and were therefore untouchable. They did what they wanted with whomever they wanted.
People were forbidden to interact with listed in any way, shape, or form. I could set myself on fire and walk into the middle of a crowded church, and because of the Andersons’ power and push, no one would lift a finger to help me. The fact that Corey had even shown tonight was a miracle.
“Maybe he wasn’t using you. Maybe you were using him. Maybe you destroyed him. He killed himself because of you. Something you said, something you did—who the hell knows.” There was venom in his voice, but really, who could blame him? Corey and Noah Anderson were as different as night and day—but they’d been close.
In the days following Noah’s death, rumors swirled about drug and alcohol abuse. There was talk about Corey not being able to hold it together. Looking at him now, I could see the change. The shift was heartbreaking. Always dressed to the nines and breaking hearts, but these days, the guy was lucky to shrug into clean clothes. His hair had grown out and, judging by the scruff on his face, he’d given up shaving.
“Listen to yourself.” I ground my teeth and took a deep breath, trying hard to remind myself that he was hurting as much as I was. “Do you hear what you’re saying? I crushed Noah? Really?” I threw up my hands and started to pace. “Open your eyes! Someone killed your brother. Don’t you want to know who?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter.” He took another step back, almost as though he needed to put some distance between us like I was a time bomb waiting to detonate. There was fear in his eyes, and I had a feeling it wasn’t because of me. “He’s gone. Nothing you do or say—or prove—is going to change things. Not for you. Mom tolerated you because it made Infinity look good. Taking you in humanized the face of the company. Make no mistake, though. She hates you. Always did. I’m sure it was the last straw when she found you sticking your tongue down my brother’s throat. If he hadn’t died, she would have found a way to get rid of you before your eighteenth birthday.”
My face heated and the involuntary sting of tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. I blinked it away and clenched my fists. “You know.” I wasn’t surprised. Not really. I’d known getting his help was a long shot. “You know your parents had something to do with his death. Am I the only one who loved him enough to see them brought to justice?”
He took another step back and exhaled slowly. “Maybe you could leave. Start over someplace else? Try covering the brand or something. I hear Canada doesn’t have a Tier system.”
Every step he took back, I matched with one forward. “Cover the brand?” A guy last year did that. When he was caught, they skipped him the next day. And while it might seem like a better alternative for someone like me, the rumor was, the pre-approved skipping worlds were worse than hell itself.
“You—”
“Corey Anderson?”
We both whirled around, surprised.
“That you?” the newcomer prodded. I had no idea who he was, but the guy standing there was taller than both of us by several inches with jet black hair and an almost wicked gleam in his eyes. The way his gaze traveled over Corey gave me the chills and had me taking a subtle step backward. He squinted and came a little closer. “This is damn near hysterical—and a first. You’re a dude!”
Corey glanced at me, then back to the stranger. “Um, thank you for noticing? You’re not really my type though…”
The guy frowned and stuffed a hand into his pocket. “I gotta be honest, man. That’s gonna take some of the joy out of this.” He shrugged. “But, we all have to sacrifice, am I right?”
He pulled his hand free and flicked his wrist in our general direction. At first I didn’t realize what had happened. I mean, I saw something flash in the rising moonlight and fly toward us, but I thought he’d simply tossed something to Corey.
He hadn’t. He’d tossed something at him.
Corey clutched his throat, almost like he was choking. The guy laughed. No. Laughed was the wrong word. Chortled. He was hacking it up like someone had slipped him a half dozen happy pills and a beer to chase them with. It was almost infectious…
Until I saw the blood.
It was a single trickle at first, slipping past Corey’s fingers to trail down his neck. Mesmerized, I watched as it hit the collar of his shirt, soaking in and staining the light blue material. Then came more. So much more. My heart hammered and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came. I could only stare, helpless, as he dropped to his knees, hands still wrapped around his neck as the blood flowed like a river. His wide eyes bulged as he looked up at me, lips parted just a bit as he fell to the ground with a gurgling sound that I’d never forget.
I was torn between trying to help him—even though I knew he was far beyond that now—and running like hell. We’d never been close, but I’d watched Corey Anderson grow up. From a pudgy faced boy to a strikingly handsome young man with an unreal talent for art. “Oh my… What did you do?”
The guy shrugged like it was no big thing. Like he hadn’t just slit the throat of one of the town’s most prominent sons. “Only what I promised.” He focused on me as I took a step back. I couldn’t help it. My gaze flickered to Corey, bleeding into the dirt, and I shuddered. “And look at you. Getting all cozy with the wrong brother.”
Another step. A part of me wondered if this weirdo wasn’t a stranger but rather Corey’s dealer. Maybe he hadn’t paid up. “Whatever your beef with Corey was, I’ve got nothing to do with it.” I wasn’t confident that I could outrun him. “I was never here. You were never here.” Breathe. Focus on getting away.
My gaze drifted down to Corey’s still form one last time. He hadn’t hated me like his parents, but he’d never viewed me as an equal, either. To him, I was always and only ever the Bottom Tier girl his parents had forced him to share his home with. It wasn’t his fault. It was how he’d been raised.
There was just enough light to see the growing puddle of darkness beneath him, spreading out and soaking into the dirt. Dead. Corey was dead. This guy had killed him. Right in front of me. No one—not a Bottom Tier or Top Tier, as bad as most were—deserved to die like that.
“You know, normally I’d be okay with letting you walk away. It’s the general and Cade who burned me, and where I’m from, you’re not important. But Noah recently moved up on my shit list. He’s not far behind, and something tells me he’ll come looking for you… He always does.” He snickered again. “Yeah. I think this can work.”
I didn’t ask what this was. Something told me he didn’t want to bake me a cake. And what this had to do with Noah, I couldn’t even imagine. He had his fair share of enemies—being one of the richest, most sought after guys in town did have some drawbacks. And he did have a tendency to mess around with other guys’ girlfriends, but none of that had anything to do with me. As for the general? I had no idea who that was and no intention of asking.
Breathe…
I let my hand fall slack at my side, then slowly reached into my pocket. The cool metal of my keys brushed the tips of my fingers, and with a few careful twitches of my pointer, I found what I was looking for.
“I can make it quick. You won’t feel a thing.”
“Wish I could say the same thing about you.” I whipped my hand from my pocket and pressed the aerosol nozzle on the small bottle of pepper spray Noah had insisted I carry. I might not be an Anderson, but I’d lived with them. There was a small portion of the population who didn’t worship the ground they walked on. The same group of people who protested the way our government worked and its policies of law enforcement, the ones who vehemently opposed the Tier system. It didn’t matter that I was one of them, or that I agreed with everything they stood for. Nope. I lived with the Andersons so I was just as bad, eating their food and wearing their clothes. Sitting pretty under their arched ceilings and marble trim walls.
The guy cursed and doubled over, clawing at his eyes. As soon as he was down, I brought my knee up as hard as I could and smashed it into his forehead.
As he cursed some more and flailed, I took off. I didn’t need to look behind me to know he was already in pursuit, though. The crackling leaves and furious grunts were warning enough. “Hey,” I roared. My voice echoed off the trees, a booming sound against the silence of the night. “Anyone! Help!” It was stupid. No one was out in the woods at night. No one except stupid, desperate girls who should have known better.
I came to the boulders at the head of the Doon and made a sharp right, almost toppling over as I went. My heart hammered and despite the chill in the air, I was sweating like a pig. I threw myself down the path that led to the lake. Sometimes some of the older listed camped out. The chances of aid were slim—even among my fellow outcasts—but I’d take my chances.
My pulse was erratic and the blood rushed in my head. I banked hard and pushed forward, pumping my legs as fast as I could. Breath coming in short, uneven gasps, I grabbed the trunk of a thin tree and propelled myself around. I stumbled and went down, my right knee knocking into something solid. Stars exploded behind my eyes and involuntary tears stung the corners.
Body-numbing fear bubbled up in my gut and turned my vision watery. But, despite the near paralyzing terror, I picked myself up and ran.