I DON’T HAVE to look at Alexander to know that his face is contorted in a frozen state of shock and horror. I couldn’t see him through my haze of dread even if I tried. All I can focus on is the sound of Jared’s voice, waiting, listening, for any inflection. Any indication that his next word will be his last.
“Hey, Casey. What’s up?” I can hear the reluctance in his voice. Maybe on some level, he knows that my warning was warranted. Still, he opened the door.
He opened the door.
In the past 48 hours, opening damn doors has knocked me on my ass every-fucking-time.
I opened the door at Dorian’s suite and Alexander, my very undead father, is standing there.
Then I opened it to let room service in, only to find Niko and a poison-laden cart, wheeled by some punk-kid hopped up on Dark magic.
Opened the door to Morgan’s room. Found that she’d nearly killed herself.
And the one time I didn’t open the door at my parent’s house…I wished I did. That knock was meant for me. That dagger to the gut should have been mine.
Donna’s blood is still fresh on my hands. I can still smell her. Can still feel her warmth slipping away as I held her limp body. I still see the look in her eyes as she looked up at me, begging me to help her—to save her. To be the very thing I was set on this earth to be.
Now I’m about to lose another precious part of me. And I’m afraid that after this, I won’t have any more left to lose.
“Please. Please close the door, Jared.” I know he can’t hear me; he’s pulled the phone away from his ear. My voice is so weak, as if my body has given up. Or maybe it’s learned to protect itself from the inevitable. It’s learned, adapted. It knows that any more pain—even just an ounce—would be my undoing. There would be no chance of recovery.
A feminine voice—saccharine sweet and nauseatingly shrill—purrs his name, seduction dripping from every consonant. “Jared. How are you?”
“Fine.” It sounds almost like a question, as if he’s trying to figure out why the hell this chick is at his door at nearly 1:00 am. “Everything ok, Casey?”
Even in suspicion, he’s caring to a fault. The girl laughs like his kindness is a joke. Like it amuses her that he’s so oblivious. I know that sound—it’s the call of a predator. And Jared is the sweetest kind of prey.
“Everything is definitely ok, Jared.” She says his name again, letting it slide over her venomous tongue. It sounds unnatural, too deliberate. “But I was hoping we could talk.”
Talk? Who the fuck talks this late at night? What the hell does she need to say?
“No!” I scream into the receiver. “Close the door, Jared!” I’m completely aware of the jealousy roiling in my chest, but most of it is fear. And rage. Blinding, red-tinged rage.
“Don’t you want to hang up the phone?” she asks, a hint of annoyance in that unnatural screech of a voice. I hear her shuffle forward, and her heart rate spikes with excitement. Back up, bitch, I silently scream.
“Um…just, uh, a sec,” Jared stammers before placing the phone to his ear. “Gabs, can I call you back?”
“No, you can’t,” I’m yelling before he can even complete the question. “Do not hang up. Close the door, Jared. There’s something I need to tell you. Please.”
“Tell me? Can it wait?” The girl co-signs his suggestion, and I swear I feel my pressure rise into the danger zone.
“Tell that bitch to mind her business and shut the door. It can’t wait, Jared. It may be too late. And…and…something happened tonight. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but you have to know…about Donna.”
“Donna?”
Casey bristles impatiently, insisting Jared give her his undivided attention. She’s not backing down, fully prepared to fight dirty. “Jared, don’t you want to hear what I have to say? Or better yet, what I want to do? Come on, sexy, you know you want to.”
“Don’t listen to her, Jared! Seriously, I need to talk to you!”
Jared sighs uncomfortably, and I imagine him rubbing the back of his neck as nerves creep up his spine. “Ok, Gabs. Just give me a sec.” Even though he covers the mouthpiece with his thumb, I can still hear with crystal clarity. I can even picture the irritated scowl this Casey chick would undoubtedly wear. “Hey, Case, can I stop by later? Like in the morning?”
“No, you can’t. It has to be now,” she sneers, obviously offended that he brushed her off. Casey doesn’t sound like she takes rejection well. Boo hoo, bitch.
“What does?” For God’s sake, Jared! Close the damn door! Stop being so nice!
“What I’ve been dying to do for months.” Her voice drops an octave, and I can hear her moving, stepping over the threshold of the doorframe. Her voice is closer, her breathing ragged with lust. “Kiss me, Jared.”
“What?” He sounds genuinely surprised, as if the request is totally out of left field. As if it’s out of character for Casey to ask such a thing.
“Kiss me.”
“Casey, I think you—”
A loud, screeching clatter impales my eardrum and their voices grow to screams, yet they sound farther away. There’s a struggle, scratching flesh, ripping clothing. Either they’re rolling around in violent passion or Jared’s being attacked. Human Gabs would have been crushed at the first scenario. Immortal, I-Will-Cut-A-Bitch Gabs knows it’s the latter of the two.
“Just one kiss, Jared,” Casey growls, her voice sounding less shrill and more menacing. “Just give me one kiss.”
The fuck? She’s lip-raping him?
“What the hell is wrong with you, Case? When did you get so freakishly strong? Get off me! This isn’t you!”
Freakishly strong.
Uncharacteristic behavior.
Fucking hell.
I never wanted to be wrong more than in this moment. I longed for paranoia. I prayed I was just being irrationally jealous and possessive of a green-eyed boy that could never be mine. It would have been easier to imagine him hooking up with his sorority girl neighbor. Anything would have been better than this.
The tone of Casey’s voice dips lower, and an inhumane sound rumbles her throat, preluding a haunting, ancient voice that long precedes her young years. “You will place your lips upon mine, boy. And you shall taste the sweetest death.”
I’m screaming, begging for Jared to hear me from where ever the phone has been knocked away, so loudly that I almost don’t catch an ear-splitting bang, followed by the sickly sounds of bones crumbling to dust.
Then it’s quiet. So quiet that I only hear the pounding of a racing heart. Only one single, human heart.
Soft footsteps grow nearer before there’s movement at the phone once again. Someone’s picked it up. I hold my breath, praying that it’s him. That the solitary heartbeat belongs to Jared, and that he’s safe and sound once again. My sweet, handsome friend who has always been too damn good for the likes of me.
When I hear the voice on the other end, I swallow the breath I’m holding, feeling like I could never breathe again.
“I’m sorry, little girl.”
There’s a click, and the connection dies, along with my last shred of hope.