Spotting a black t-shirt at the top of the pile, I snatched it up immediately.

Aislin sighed. “Gemma, would it kill you to wear colors that aren’t so depressing.”

“It might.”

She sighed again. “Fine. But could you at least wear a skirt or something?”

I shook my head. “I hate skirts.”

“You know, when you were little, you used to run around in dresses all the time.”

I stared at her, confused. “I don’t remember this?”

Her bright green eyes went wide. She’d said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She quickly shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She started to search through the pile of clothes again.

“It’s something.” I stood up, hugging the black t-shirt to my chest “Whatever it is, you need to tell me. It’s not fair that—”

She cut me off, shoving a pair of denim shorts at me. “Gemma. Please just drop it.”

“How do you expect me to—”

“Please,” she said in a quiet, but firm, voice.

I grinded my teeth and snatched the pair of shorts out of her hand. “Fine.” I turned for the door, but stopped just short of it. “Where should I change?”

“There’s a bathroom down the hallway. Third door on the right.”

Dazed, and a little out of it, I ended up passing the bathroom and had to retrace my steps. But eventually I found it. Aislin’s strange behavior, after she’d said that I used to run around in dresses, had me puzzled. I couldn’t figure out why she’d freaked out. Why was it so bad for her to mention I liked wearing dresses when I was a child? For now, though, all I could do was wonder.

So that I didn’t tear my stitches open, I had to be careful as I slipped out of my blood-stained shirt and pulled on the black tee. But when I went to tug the shorts on, I realized the “shorts” Aislin had given me weren’t shorts at all, but a denim skirt. By accident, I think not. I might have loved to wear dresses when I was little, but that didn’t mean I did now. I stuck my tongue out at the skirt before reluctantly putting it on.

When I’d finished getting dressed, I splashed some cold water on my face in a pathetic attempt to bring myself out of this dream I was sure I was stuck in. Vampires, witches, and secret groups who saved the world weren’t supposed to exist. They couldn’t exist. There was no way. It was all too unreal—too science fiction. They key word here being “fiction.”

But after I’d patted my face dry and opened my eyes, the same navy blue walls of Laylen’s bathroom still surrounded me. I glanced into the mirror hanging above the sink and sighed at the sight of my freakishly violet eyes staring back at me. I wondered if it was the star’s energy that had created the color. How was I supposed to know how much of my reflection was me? And how much of it was the stars?

A knock at the door startled me.

“Gemma, are you ready to go?” Aislin asked.

I blinked one last time at my reflection before turning away from it.

Chapter 17

Laylen drove a 1960’s Black Pontiac GTO with white racing stripes streaming down the middle of the hood. Apparently, he and Alex had this thing for classic cars. Something I picked up on during a very brief guy bonding moment between the two of them, when Alex had first seen the “beautiful” car.

I was starting to figure out that guys were kind of weird.

But anyway…

Their bonding moment quickly came and passed, and a few minutes later, we were driving down the dirt road with nothing more than the roar of the tires to fill the silence.

Laylen’s house was located in the middle of nowhere, so it took awhile just to get to the freeway.  I was sitting in the back seat, watching the stars streak across the sky in shades of violet and silver. Alex had insisted that no one else could sit beside me but him, muttering something about it being safer that way in case the Death Walkers tried to ambush us or something. But being in the back seat of a two-door vehicle during an ambush—I could see no advantage to the seating arrangement whatsoever.

To make things even more complicated, being confined in the car was causing the electricity to crackle like a wildfire. My skin was getting hot and sweaty, and I felt like I was burning up with a fever. Fortunately, I discovered that, even in the desert, the air cooled during the night and chilled the windows.

I had my cheek resting against the glass, on the verge of falling asleep, when Alex asked, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep,” I mumbled crankily.

“You look like you’re burning up,” he remarked.

I heard him shift in the seat, and the next thing I knew he’d pressed the palm of his hand to my forehead. It sent a shot of heat through my already burning up body, causing me to jump. Great. It was so freaking hot—the last thing I needed was for him to touch me.

I turned my head to look at him. He’d narrowed the distance between us so drastically that, even through the darkness, I could see his eyes assessing me over.

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising my face away from the window.

“Checking if you have a fever.”

“I don’t have a fever,” I argued, sliding my forehead out from under his hand.

But his hand followed me. He dragged it gently along my temple, letting it come to rest on my cheek. “You’re skin feels really warm.”

“That’s because I am warm,” I said, my voice sharp. “And you touching me just makes it worse.” I tilted my face and his hand fell to his lap. “You’re too hot.” As soon as I said it, I immediately wanted to slap myself on the forehead. You’re too hot. What it wrong with you Gemma? “I-I didn’t mean it like that,” I stammered. And I really didn’t. I swear.

It didn’t matter, though. It was too late. The damage had already been done. The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a beautiful, yet smug, smile. “I’m too hot, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Through the darkness, I fixed him with my angriest glare. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?” His eyebrow teased upward.

I shook my head, frustrated. The last thing I needed was for him to think I had some kind of crush on him. Because I didn’t. I swear. Well, fine. Whatever. But he didn’t need to know that. “What I meant to say was your skin feels too hot.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

I heaved an angry breath. “You are such a—” I snapped my jaw shut as the city suddenly blistered over the horizon.

The sight was breathtaking. Flashy neon lights of every shape and color dazzled so vibrantly against the blackness of the night that I wondered if staring at it for a long length of time would make me go blind. Giant billboards lit up the sides of the road, and uniquely shaped buildings stretched godly toward the sky. As we emerged closer to the city, the sidewalks became packed with mobs of people, the air buzzing with excitement. Now I understood why its nickname had been deemed The City that Never Sleeps. Everything was so alive and awake.

Awestruck by the sight, I pinched my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and winced from the sting I undeniably felt.

Alex must have seen me do it, because he leaned over and whispered, “You’re not dreaming. It’s real.”

I rubbed the pinched spot on my arm. “I was just making sure.”

He smiled. Clearly, I was entertaining him.

We drove by a massive glass pyramid, a giant pirate ship, and a small replica of the Eiffel tower, finally hitting the heart of the city. Laylen made an unexpected veer to the right, and the atmosphere abruptly shifted. The lights faded away, and the crowds of people thinned out. The buildings shrank from the sky, looking worn out and less exciting. I caught Aislin reaching over and locking her door. The place was definitely sketchy.

I chewed nervously on my bottom lip and scooted away from the window to distance myself as much as I could from the outside.

“You do realize it’s almost one o’clock,” Aislin informed Laylen. Back at the house, while I’d been in the bathroom changing my clothes, she’d changed as well, now wearing a frilly skirt and a lacy trimmed camisole. On her shoulder blade was a tattoo of a crescent moon outlined by a black star. “Is this place even going to be open so late?”

Laylen flipped the signal light on. “Yeah, it’ll be open. It’s only open at night.”

What kind of place was only open at night? Probably one as creepy as the street we were on.

Laylen made another turn, this time to the left, and any sign of life died instantaneously. Not a single person was in sight. The buildings looked dead, broken, and old, most of the windows boarded up.  And as Laylen slowed the GTO to a crawl, all I could think was, yes, of course this is the street we’re stopping on. We couldn’t have just stopped back in the land of the living, where the lights shined bright, and it didn’t feel like as soon as I stepped out of the car someone was going to jump out and stab me with a knife.

Or jump out and freeze me to death.

I choked on the last thought.

Laylen parked the car in front of a gloomy building with dingy windows and the words Angels Fortress of Tattoos and Piercing painted sloppily across the window. No lights were on inside it or in any of the nearby buildings. The only proof of human existence was when a person wearing a black hooded jacket, cargo pants, and army boots, darted out in front of the car, scurried down the street, and disappeared down a dark alleyway. I’m not going to lie; it scared me so badly I seriously about peed my pants.

Alex leaned in toward me. “Are you okay?”

“Umm…” Did he just ask if I was okay? He even sounded like he was being sincere, which was weird. “Yeah, I think so.”

Laylen turned off the engine, and the radio and the lights shut off. Everything got very quiet and very dark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex asked me again, his voice low and deep. “Because you look scared.”

“I’m not,” I lied, clicking my seatbelt loose.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he whispered in my ear. The heat of his breath made me shiver in a good way. I hated that it made me shiver in a good way. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Huh? What was with the sudden nice guy act? Maybe the electricity was becoming too much for him too and was messing with his head or something.

“Okay,” I said, sounding confused. And trust me, I was confused.

Aislin scanned the ominous buildings surrounding us. “So which one is it?”

Laylen didn’t reply, his eyes glued to the front window as he fiddle with his lip ring.

Aislin turned and looked at him. “Laylen, which one is it?”

When he finally spoke, his words dragged out.  “It’s none of them.”

Alex slid forward in the seat and rested his arms on the console. “What do you mean, it’s none of them?”

“I mean it’s none of them.” Laylen dropped his fingers from his lip ring. “I needed to make an extra stop.”