Unraveled

FIFTEEN

TUCKER REMAINED in the shadows for a long while, covered by his illusion of trees, darkness and night birds. Thankfully, no one at the cabin had noticed him.

So he’d watched…and listened…

He’d been ordered to follow Aden, which was easy for him, as Tucker could somehow sense wherever the boy went, and he had. Followed, that is. Yet Mary Ann was most often with the boy, and that delighted him, even as it frustrated him.

When it was just the two of them, Aden and Mary Ann, Tucker would lose his ability to cast illusions, forced to hide by regular means. He would wonder what the hell he was doing, following them, watching them and listening to their secrets when he should be protecting them. Oh, yes, there was a small part of him that wanted to protect the two people responsible for saving his dreaded life. And he would hate himself for what he was doing, vow not to do it anymore, and walk away. But the farther he walked, the more he would hear Vlad’s voice, whispering to him across the distance, commanding him to spy on Aden, and so, Tucker would return to Aden’s side. If Mary Ann was gone, the desire to please his king would spread again. He would watch, listen and wait. An urge to hurt the boy would bloom, grow.

Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case tonight.

Tonight, Mary Ann was with the other boy, Riley. When those two were together, Tucker could cast his illusions. For whatever reason. So, knowing Aden was inside, Tucker should have gone inside, too. And he could have, no one would have known—even when Aden was with Mary Ann, Tucker could use his illusions if Riley was there—but Tucker had stayed out here. For Mary Ann, determined to protect her from the rage of the other boy.

As he’d watched them, he’d realized he was glad she had a new boyfriend. She deserved happiness. She deserved love. She was the light to Tucker’s darkness, pure where he was tainted. He’d never been right for her. But damn it, why couldn’t they remain friends?

And why couldn’t Penny be more like her?

Penny. Sometimes—when he was around Mary Ann and calm—he was glad they’d made a baby, even though he most often denied responsibility. Penny would be better off without him. Unlike Mary Ann, she didn’t make him feel better about himself, his actions, his future. He would make a terrible father.

Without Mary Ann, he wanted to hurt those around him. Penny, yes, and probably the baby.

The boy. Follow the boy…

As Vlad’s command drifted through his head, his teeth gnashed together. How did the vampire always know what Tucker was doing? How did the vampire wield such unbreakable control?

Disappointed, angry, dreading what was to come, Tucker straightened, unable to do otherwise, and headed south, toward the D and M Ranch where Aden lived. That’s where the vampire princess, Victoria, had taken him when they’d vanished in a blink. As always, Tucker sensed it, felt a pull tugging him in that direction.

So far, there hadn’t been much to report to the king. Aden had gotten sick, Aden had gone to school. Aden had returned to the vampire stronghold—where he’d been treated like royalty.

The last had infuriated Vlad. So much so, Tucker had feared for his own life. For with the former king’s fury, invisible hands had wrapped around Tucker’s neck, choking him. Finally, though, the vampire had released him and sent him on his way for more spy duty.

What was the vampire’s ultimate goal? he wondered. Why was he using Tucker like this? Why wasn’t he claiming his throne now? And did Tucker care?

The more distance he placed between himself and Mary Ann, the more the answer solidified in his mind. No. He didn’t care. He would do what he was told.

THE GOBLIN POISON SAVAGED Aden, turning his blood to lava, his organs to ash and his skin into one giant welt. He burned, he itched, he vomited thick black goo over and over again. Thank God he’d convinced Victoria to leave him. She’d protested, but he’d done the smiling, “I’m fine” thing and managed to convince her all was well.

Been here, done this, he thought weakly, though he’d never experienced a reaction to this degree. Yeah, this was worse than any other corpse poisoning he’d endured. This one even affected the souls. They were moaning in his head, sometimes screaming, always incoherent.

Except for Elijah. Death, the psychic shouted. Blood. So much blood. She dies. We can’t let her die.

“Who?” The word was like acid in his throat.

He dies, too. So much death.

“Who dies?” he demanded more insistently.

Elijah continued as if he hadn’t heard Aden’s questions. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he simply didn’t know. No. NO! They all die. All of them. War. Stop the war. We have to stop the war.

What war? If that was a prediction…

Through it all, Thomas’s ghost remained glued to Aden’s side, pacing, yelling, blaming. He wanted to leave, he said. His family would be looking for him, and would find out what had happened. And when that happened, Aden would finally know true suffering. Blah, blah, blah.

“A-Aden. You okay, man?”

It was still hard to distinguish real from the sea of noise, but he was still getting better at it, and he knew that someone was now in the room with him. His heavy lashes parted, and through a misty haze he saw Shannon standing at the side of his bed.

“Can I g-get you anything?” Shannon reached out and felt Aden’s forehead.

The moment of contact, Aden’s entire body jolted with a surge of electricity, and he lost his hold on his own reality. His conscious mind shot from him into his friend, and he was suddenly seeing the world through Shannon’s eyes. Shocking, weird. Lying on the bed one second, standing the next. Pain still coursed through him, and he groaned.

His stomach rebelled at the new upright position, forcing him to hunch over and vomit. Again. Thankfully, someone had left a small metal trashcan here. Dan, maybe. Aden thought he remembered the guy checking on him a few times.

“Out,” he managed to croak to Caleb. He wanted out of Shannon’s body.

The only reply was another moan.

Usually the soul had control. Caleb decided who to possess and when. Sometimes even Aden had control. Caleb might not want to possess someone but if Aden focused hard enough, he could do it. This time, neither of them had control, but they’d still done it.

He tried to step from the body, as he’d done with all the others, but something kept him leashed, tethered there, unable to move. Still. Over and over he tried. Finally, weak, exhausted, hurting worse, he gave up and fell back on the bed. He couldn’t hear Shannon’s thoughts, so he probably had control of Shannon’s mind, too. Which meant his friend would not remember this.

He hoped.

God, what was he going to do?

However long he sprawled there, writhing, he didn’t know. Time was immeasurable, endless. Until the true fun began.

Aden lost his hold on Shannon’s reality, too, and when he next opened his eyes, he found himself in the body of a little boy. Shannon, he realized, as he studied the dark color of his arm. A younger version of Shannon. He hadn’t lost Shannon’s reality, after all.

Even if he hadn’t noticed the physical differences, he would have known. He sensed the truth, deep inside. He’d just time-traveled—into Shannon’s past.

That shouldn’t be possible, not without Eve and certainly not with someone else’s life. Always before Aden had traveled back into his own life. Now he was seeing and feeling what Shannon was seeing and feeling. The physical pain, at least, was gone, and the souls were quiet rather than frenzied.

He sat on a swing, rocking back and forth, tiny sandaled feet pushing at the gravel. His little hands gripped the metal links at his sides. The sun glowed brightly, his only friend.

“Hey, Sh-Sh-Shannon,” a kid taunted from a few feet away. Several other kids were clustered around him, laughing. They were outside a school, Aden instinctively knew, and at recess.

There was a slide, a merry-go-round and a jungle gym, but none of the boys seemed to care about those things. They were focused completely on Shannon.

“My mom says you’re so weird because your mom is white and your dad is black,” the tallest boy said, chucking a rock in his direction.

The stone slammed into Shannon’s stomach, stinging. He kept his gaze to the ground. Ignore them, and they’ll go away, his mom always said. But he knew they wouldn’t. They never did. Unless Ms. Snodgrass noticed and yelled, but she was busy picking the grass out of Karen Fisher’s hair, so he’d have better luck wishing on a star.

Another rock hit Shannon, in the leg this time. He felt the sting, but again, he gave no reaction.

“You have a girl’s name, Stutter, you know that?”

More laughter had him cringing inside. Not that he’d ever let them know it.

Aden wanted to jump up, to pound those kids into the dirt, even young as they were. And he could have. He was still in control of the body. But to change the past was to change the future, and not always for the better. Actually, never for the better. So he sat there, awash in Shannon’s embarrassment and abject sense of loneliness, hoping that’s what Shannon had done.

But then the scene shifted, the playground fading and red brick walls closing in around him. Graffiti covered those walls, and in the distance, he heard a police siren wailing.

Smoke wafted in his face, and he coughed. He waved a hand in front of his nose, only then noticing the cigarette resting in his other hand.

“So?” someone said. “What do you think?”

Aden focused. A boy stood just in front of him. Probably fourteen or fifteen, and he was smoking, too. Like Shannon, he was black, though his skin was darker, and his eyes were brown.

He was cute, Shannon thought, though not exactly his type; still, they’d been secretly dating for three weeks. What made Tyler so appealing was the fact that he was the first boy Shannon knew who admitted, freely, that he liked other boys.

Most people were accepting of him. Some were not, like Tyler’s dad, and he often sported bruises. But still Tyler didn’t try to hide the fact that he was gay, or that he had a feminine side, was even proud of it, from his lip-glossed mouth to his too-tight pink T-shirt to his red-painted toenails.

Shannon still hadn’t told anyone about his own preferences. His dad was clueless, thank God, but his mom…she must have suspected. Flighty as she was, she kept introducing him to girls and then questioning him mercilessly. What did he think of them? Why wouldn’t he ask them out?

“Earth to Shannon,” Tyler said with a laugh. “Are you listening to me?”

“Uh, sorry. What’d you say?”

Tyler’s amusement faded in a blink. “Lookit. Like I’ve told you a million times already, I said I’m tired of sneaking around. I’m not gonna let you pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about this time, either. So either you like me or you don’t. Okay? So which is it?”

“I—” Aden quickly shut his mouth. He didn’t know how Shannon had replied, only felt the panic surging through the body.

“Say something!”

“I—I—” And then it didn’t matter. The scene shifted again, and this time he was standing in the center of an outdoor basketball court. Sweaty boys were all around him, slapping him on the back, telling him what a good job he’d done.

On the ground in front of them was an unconscious boy. Tyler. He recognized Tyler’s face, even though it was swollen, bloody and battered. Shannon’s hands were throbbing. Aden studied them. The skin on his knuckles was ripped to shreds. By teeth. By Tyler’s teeth.

He had beaten Tyler? Why?

Guilt and shame bombarded him. Remorse. Sorrow. Self-loathing.

The scene shifted yet again, the emotions falling away like leaves on a tree. Now he was inside a home, sitting on a couch. Pictures abounded. Of him. Of an older black man and a white woman. His parents, he thought.

His cheeks itched, so he reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at them. They were warm and wet. With tears? Someone was in front of him, pacing, screaming. Because Shannon had beaten Tyler?

No, he realized, as Shannon’s thoughts and feelings sank into his awareness. Because Shannon had finally told his parents the truth. He was gay. He hated what he’d done to Tyler. He wished he could go back, stop himself from treating his boyfriend that way, as if he were trash. As if he were something shameful.

On and on his father screamed. This was wrong. This was a sin. His mother even joined him, crying hysterically about how embarrassed she was. Why couldn’t he be normal?

He and Shannon were so much more alike than Aden had ever realized. He’d been called a freak his entire life, rejected by his parents, tossed throughout the system, unwanted by anyone. Trash. Shameful.

“Shannon?” The male voice called out from a long dark tunnel, and then someone was shaking him. “You’re sick, too?”

Tugged back to the present, Aden blinked open his eyes—too bright, burning, tears forming—and found himself inside his bedroom, still on the bed, once again writhing in pain, the souls loud in his head. Dan was staring down at him, frowning with concern.

“You’re burning up.” His sigh wafted over Aden’s face, and even that hurt. “That means whatever Aden has is contagious.” Dan looked around. “Where’s Aden? Do you need a doctor?”

Several seconds passed while Aden groggily waded through the facts. He was still inside Shannon’s body, and Dan wanted to know where “Aden” was. “No,” he managed to croak. “Aden’s…fine. At school. I’ll be fine, too.” Then he closed his eyes again and rolled to his side. “Please, go.”

“All right, I will, but get some rest. I’ll check on you in a bit and bring you some of Meg’s chicken noodle soup.” Meg. His sweet, beautiful wife. Footsteps sounded, a door creaked open, closed.

So many deaths, Elijah moaned.

Dear God, not that again. The psychic said something else, but another voice soon blended with his, claiming Aden’s attention. A female’s voice.

“Shannon?” she said. “Where’s Aden?”

Victoria, he thought. Once again he forced his eyes to open. The lights had been turned off and the curtains closed, so the room was cast into welcome darkness. He flopped to his back. Like Dan, Victoria stood at the side of the bed, staring down at him.

Thomas was beside her, watching, listening.

When she reached out, Aden scrambled backward. “No touching.”

Hurt clouded her expression as her arm fell to his side. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m Aden. It’s Aden. Trapped.” If she touched him, would he possess her body, as well, taking Shannon with him? He hadn’t with Dan, and he wanted her hands on him—always—but he wasn’t willing to risk it.

First, she appeared confused, then frightened. “I knew it! I never should have left you. I knew you were sick, I just, I wanted you to rest and I was afraid you wouldn’t if I stayed, and oh, God, now I’m babbling. I’m so sorry. I’ll get Mary Ann. Yes? I’ll have to leave you again, but only for a moment.”

Mary Ann. Perfect. She muted abilities. “Yes.” Maybe, just maybe, her presence would force him out of Shannon’s body. If not…

God. He’d be stuck. Forever.

MARY ANN SNUGGLED against the warm, soft—strangely large—heating pad in her bed. She’d never slept this deeply or this peacefully before. Maybe because this was the first real sleep she’d had in what seemed forever, so her body had needed to do something drastic. Or maybe because this just might be her very last sleep.

No. Wait. That kind of thinking didn’t make any sense. She would have been scared, up all night tossing and turning, and wondering if she really was a Drainer, if Riley was done with her, if the witches were now coming after her.

Now the tossing and the turning began. What was she going to do? How was she going to— Wait again. No matter where she moved, the heating pad remained pressed into her side. How odd. Even odder, she didn’t own a heating blanket. Did she? Her eyelashes fluttered open.

There was a big, black wolf in her bed.

Mary Ann yelped in surprise, heartbeat speeding out of control.

Shh. It’s me. It’s okay.

The words reverberated inside her head, deep and husky and familiar. “Riley?” His name was more a shout than she’d intended. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peered over at him. The lights were off, and the sun hadn’t yet risen all the way, so details were hazy.

The wolf was stretched out beside her, dark fur gleaming and green eyes bright.

“Riley,” she said, a statement of fact this time.

The one and only.

“What are you doing here?” More importantly, did she look like a mess? She scanned herself. She wore a blue tank, and her covers bunched at her waist, shielding her lower body—boy shorts and bare legs—from his view. She ran her hand through her hair. A few tangles, but nothing too terrible.

You might be a Drainer, and that witch, Marie, suspects it. No way you’re sleeping alone again.

He cared, then. He still cared. And he’d said “might be a Drainer,” which was an improvement from their last conversation when he’d baldly stated, “You’re going to kill me.” Her lips curled up at the corners. “So you’ve been here all night?” Protecting her.

Yep. Came back right after I escorted Aden and Victoria home.

“I’m glad. And thank you.”

My pleasure.

Their gazes met, and for a heated moment, he was watching her as he had in the very beginning, before the witches and the feeding, as if she were important, as if she mattered more than anything else in the world. A girl could get used to that.

Grin widening, she fell back onto the mattress and wished she’d woken up sooner. “Now that we’re both alert, we should probably talk about last night. We said some things that—”

Suddenly her bedroom door burst open, and her dad flew inside, scowling. “What is going on, Mary Ann?”

“Dad!” Panicked, caught red-handed, she jolted upright, jerking her comforter with her. “What are you doing?”

“You shouted that boy’s name. I thought—” His gaze landed on Riley and he stilled, terror darkening his eyes. He was still in his pajamas, a flannel shirt and pants, so he must have rushed straight from bed. “Mary Ann, listen to me, baby. Get up slowly. No sudden movements, okay? I want you to inch your way behind me. Okay? Do it now, honey.”

Oh, God. This was so not happening. “Dad. The, uh, dog is harmless, I swear.” Biggest. Lie. Ever.

To prove his “harmlessness,” Riley licked her palm. Goose bumps broke out over her skin, and then heat flooded her cheeks. She didn’t want her dad to think a dog turned her on.

“How do you know that mangy thing is harmless?” Her dad had always hated animals, feared them. “Now, why aren’t you moving away from him and toward me? I don’t want to scare you, but he could use your face as a chew toy, sweetheart.” Riley stiffened.

“I just do. Know, that is,” she said. “He won’t hurt me. He’s…my pet.” Please don’t be mad, Riley, she thought, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “He has been for the past few weeks.”

Her dad’s blue eyes widened, panic and fear giving way to bafflement. “No. No, that isn’t possible. I would have known.”

“Yes, way. See?” She wrapped an arm around Riley’s large frame and buried her face in his soft neck, cuddling him close.

“No,” her dad insisted, shaking his head. “You would have told me. I would have known.”

Oh, Dad. There’s a lot you don’t know. She straightened, heart still hammering against her ribs. “I know about your rampant animal phobia, so I kept him hidden. But, see? He’s trained. He doesn’t cause any trouble. I swear.”

He was shaking his head again before the last word left her mouth. “That thing could have you for breakfast, Mary Ann. I want it out. Now.”

“Daddy, please. Please let me keep him,” she said, and commanded tears to bead in her eyes. Laying it on too strong? Maybe. But she needed him to say yes. That way, Riley could come and go freely. There’d be no more sneaking around. Really, she should have thought of this before. “He makes me happy. Since…you know. What happened between us.” Reminding him of their fight was low, but she was desperate.

Finally, her dad softened. “He might not have all his shots.”

He hadn’t said yes, but she knew. Victory would be hers. She wanted to laugh, to clap and dance. “I’ll take him to the vet myself.”

A pause. A sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You called him Riley.”

Uh-oh. “Yes.”

“So you named your pet after your boyfriend?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

Was he reading all kinds of psychological reasons into the situation? “It just seemed…appropriate. They’re both protective of me.” There. A truth.

A bit more softening. “Does Riley know?”

“Yeah, and he approves. He was flattered.”

“That just proves he’s weird and you shouldn’t hang around him.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” she asked pointedly.

He was silent for a long while. “I can’t believe this. A mangy mutt in the house, all this time. Fine. Keep him. But if he soils the rug, he’s out.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. “I understand.”

He turned, throwing over his shoulder, “And if he growls at you, even once, he’s out. He looks wild.”

I am, Riley snapped inside her head.

Do not laugh, she told herself.

Her dad paused at her door. “Where does it stay while you’re at school?”

It. Nice. “Outside.”

“You could be inviting fleas into our home, Mary Ann.”

No. Laughing. “He’s clean, Dad. I swear. But if I spot a single little bug, I’ll bathe him.”

That could prove interesting, Riley said.

“And thank you,” she added. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” The door shut, leaving her alone with Riley.

Finally allowing her amusement to bubble from her, Mary Ann fell back onto the bed and cuddled her mangy mutt.