Entangled, Page 5

  I thrum my fingers against the sides of my legs as I trot backward up the stairway with my gaze on the trees. Just relax. It’s broad daylight. Nothing’s going to happen.

  As if to taunt my optimism, the wind kicks up and tosses dry leaves and dirt in the air. I shield my eyes with my hand and strain to see through the debris and into the woods. I feel myself being pulled, drawn by an unseen force, magnetized to the trees … or something that lies beyond them …

  My feet begin to move. I take each step robotically. The wind dances more vibrantly. I swear I hear a plea for help …

  Help us …

  Help …

  My phone rings from inside my pocket, jerking me out of the strange trance, only to realize the wind isn’t blowing, and the leaves on the dirt and grass appear untouched.

  What on earth? Did I just imagine it happening?

  The uneasiness in my gut magnifies as I dig out my phone. Figuring it’s Jax telling me he’s going to be late, I answer without checking the screen.

  “What’s up with the tardiness, wolf dude?” I answer, gripping the side railing with my attention on the trees.

  Everything seems so quiet now.

  “Alana?” my mom’s voice fills the line.

  “Oh, sorry.” I sink down onto a step, prop my elbow on my knee, and rest my chin in my hand. Hearing her voice brings an instant comfort to me, and the tension in my body mildly reduces. “I thought you were Jax.”

  “Oh … Do you talk to him a lot?” Her tone is mixed with concern and curiosity. I can already see where her thoughts are heading.

  “Kind of, but only because he’s training me. And that’s the only reason.”

  “Okay.” She doesn’t sound too convinced. “But if you ever want to talk to me about anything, even a guy you like or maybe you’re dating, you can talk to me.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t like anyone at the moment, and I am definitely not dating anyone.” Especially since no one at this school can stand the sight of me.

  Ever since my grandpa died and was accused of horrible things, no one wants to associate with me. I’ve gotten into multiple fights and gotten detention for fighting, even though I never started the fights and was only trying to defend myself.

  “Is everything okay, sweetie?” my mom asks. “You sound upset.”

  “I’m fine.” I’m not about to tell her the truth about what’s going on. She’s been through too much over the last week. “I’m just tired.”

  “You should get some more rest, then. I’m actually surprised you answered the phone. You usually don’t get up this early.”

  “Jax and I got called in to a case, or else I would be in bed.”

  “A case? Wow. I didn’t know they let first years do that.”

  “They usually don’t, but Jax wanted to take me with him this time. I guess he thought it’d be a good learning experience.” Another lie, but the last thing I want to do is bring her into this mess. The more in the dark she is, the better.

  “Well, good. I hope you’re having fun or at least aren’t as upset as you were when you first got your mark.” Worry creeps into her tone. “I just hope you aren’t overworking yourself.”

  “I’m not. I promise.” I rise to my feet as I spot Jax’s blue and black striped 1967 Pontiac GTO turning into the driveway. “Hey, Mom, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay, sweetie. I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay,” she says. “And to let you know that, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

  I pause mid-step. “Is everything okay with you? You sound—I don’t know—worried.”

  “I’m fine,” she insists. “There’s just a lot going on with this whole water fey ordeal. I swear to God, faeries can be such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Dammit, I wish I could tell her about last night! “Maybe after you and Dad save the world this time, you should take a vacation.”

  “Yeah, that sounds nice,” she agrees. “Maybe one on the beach out on some remote island.”

  “You two definitely deserve it.” I trot down the rest of the steps as Jax parks at the curb in front of the stairway. “Okay, I’ve really got to go this time. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I love you. And Dad says he loves you, too.”

  “Tell him I love him, too.” I reach for the car door handle. “Love you, Mom. Bye.”

  When she says good-bye back, I cast one final glance at the seemingly peaceful forest before climbing into the car. The smell of coffee, cologne, and vanilla air fresher instantly graces my nostrils.

  “I didn’t peg you for being a late kind of guy,” I joke as I fasten my seatbelt and settle back in the leather seat.

  He has changed into another black T-shirt and matching combat boots, and his hair is styled messily. He seems irritated, too—well, more irritated than normal.

  “I had a couple of errands to run that took longer than I expected.” He shifts into drive, pulls out onto the highway that weaves through the woodsy mountains, and then nods at two thermoses in the open middle console. “I brought you coffee.”

  I pick up one of the thermoses. “Wow, that was sweet of you. What’s the occasion?”

  He shrugs with his eyes fixed on the road. “It’s just coffee.”

  Okay, so Mr. Grumpy Pants has definitely returned.

  I prepare myself for a blast of staleness as I bring the cup to my mouth, figuring he probably got the coffee from the cafeteria. But the delicious, warm liquid that nearly melts my taste buds definitely isn’t crappy cafeteria coffee.

  “Oh, my God, where did you get this?” I take another sip, and a soft moan escapes my lips. “It tastes amazing.”

  He shrugs, glancing at me, his gaze briefly flicking to my lips. “I made it.”

  I gape at him. “You made this?”

  “Yeah,” he says with another shrug. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a cup of coffee.”

  “It is, too, a big deal. I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in weeks. The cafeteria’s tastes so bad it made me want to throw up.” I raise the thermos to my mouth and bask in another sip. “This, though … This is heaven.” I move my nose over the steam and inhale. Oh. My. God. It even smells good. “You should bring me a cup of this every day.”

  “Every day?” He cocks a brow. “That sounds like a lot of work for someone I can barely tolerate.”

  “Hey!” I mock being offended, pressing my hand to my heart. “How can you say that? I thought we were best friends.” When he gives me an unimpressed look, I sigh. “Fine. Don’t bring me a cup of coffee every morning. Ruin my dream of living in coffee heaven.” I sip my coffee, relaxing back in the seat.

  Silence stretches between us as he cruises down the road, fiddling with the radio and heater, growing more fidgety with each mile marker we pass. While he’s not a skip-through-the-rainbows-and-smile sort of guy, a dark cloud of gloom seems to hover over his head.

  “Are you all right?” I finally ask. “You seem kind of—I don’t know—pissed off about something.”

  “I’m fine.” He reaches for the other thermos. “I’m just thinking about this case we’re going to.”

  “Okay.” Vague much? “What about the case is bugging you? Because you seem bugged about something.”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know anything about it. Usually, my supervisor gives me a brief rundown over the phone so I know what I’m getting into, but this time, she said she couldn’t, that I’d have to wait until I got there. That’s never happened before.”

  “Maybe she was too busy or something.”

  “No, it wasn’t that. She sounded … nervous.” He wraps his fingers around the shifter. “Maybe it was a bad idea to bring you.”

  My grip constricts around the mug. “Why? I’ve already been to, like, three murder scenes, including one where a zombie was dragged behind a car, and some of his rotting flesh had melted into the pavement.” I shiver at the mental image. “How mu
ch worse could this one be?”

  “The very fact that you asked that shows how bad of an idea this is.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I just didn’t want you being alone all day.”

  I set the coffee between my legs. “I’m going to be alone eventually. You can’t watch me 24/7.”

  A challenge dances in his eyes. “Wanna bet?”

  “Jax, you can’t go everywhere with me.” I grimace. “I need privacy sometimes so I can do private things.”

  His eyes glisten with intrigue. “What kind of private things?”

  “Nothing you get to know about,” I retort with a sassy grin. “And you want to know why? Because you’re not going to be with me all the time.”

  “I know I’m not, but someone is.” He’s being so relentless.

  I open my mouth to protest, but he talks over me.

  “Alana, this isn’t a joke. What happened last night … This is really fucking bad. These people don’t mess around. Whatever they did last night has a purpose, and until I can figure out what they’re up to, I’m not letting you go anywhere unprotected.”

  “I know it’s not a joke, but I know how to defend myself.” I pick up the coffee to take another drink. “I’m not helpless.”

  “I know you’re not helpless,” he says, seeming genuine, “but I also don’t feel comfortable letting you be by yourself when the people who cause at least seventy percent of the murders are after you.”

  I go all bug-eyed. “Seventy percent?”

  He nods. “And that’s just the ones we manage to solve. I don’t even want to think about how many cold cases are connected to them.”

  I gulp down a long drink of coffee, letting reality sink in. I spent most of my life living in a world filled with danger and have put myself in dangerous positions on multiple occasions. This, though … This is undeniably the worst situation I’ve ever been in. But I’m not about to be a coward and hide out in my room.

  “I think I need to get some weapons,” I announce, putting the thermos back between my legs.

  His brows knit. “Why?”

  “So I can protect myself.” I trace my finger around the lid of the thermos. “It’ll have to be an inconspicuous weapon—no swords or bows or anything like that. Maybe a knife or a Taser. Or maybe I can get my parents to get me a knife laced with siren blood. That’s supposed to be really lethal to almost every creature out there.”

  “You can’t have a weapon on school grounds. If you get caught, you’ll probably be expelled.”

  “If the Electi catch me unarmed, I’ll probably die.”

  He reaches over and puts a finger against my lips. “Try to refrain from saying their name as much as possible. You don’t want anyone to overhear you.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, my lips moving against his finger. “I’m just trying to come up with a plan.”

  “I know.” He withdraws his finger from my mouth as he mulls something over. “Let me get you a weapon. I’ll make sure to pick something out that you can carry with you at all times but will be easy to keep hidden.”

  “You’re going to pick me out a weapon?”

  “Yes. And when I give the weapon to you, you’re going to apologize for questioning my weapon competency.”

  “Sounds good to me, but just so you know, I’m pretty hard to impress when it comes to weapons.”

  Instead of responding, he gives me an overconfident smile then redirects his attention to the road. “So, here’s the rules for when we get to the crime scene. Under no circumstances are you to leave my side unless I tell you to. Don’t touch anything unless I give you permission. And try not to get too snarky with my supervisor. She won’t be as tolerant as I am.”

  A thousand comebacks tickle at the tip of my tongue, but all of them die the instant Jax presses on the brake to slow down for a string of cars parked around a dry field.

  “Is this the crime scene?” I ask, straightening in the seat.

  He nods, silencing the engine. “Yep, this is it.”

  “But it’s so close to the academy.” I crane my neck to get a better look as I undo my seatbelt. My view is limited by SUVs, cars, and people dressed in similar attire as Jax.

  “I know.” Fear briefly flickers in his silver eyes, but he quickly composes himself. “It’s actually happened a few times over the last six months or so.”

  I set the coffee back in the console. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the academy, do you?”

  “There’s been some speculation that it might.” He extends his hand toward the door handle. “I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we have a case to investigate.”

  When he gets out of the car and closes the door, I follow his lead, meeting him around the front of the car.

  “So, where do we start first?” I ask, tying my plaid shirt around my waist.

  “We go look at the damage.” He draws on his sunglasses and starts off toward the dry, grassy field.

  I trail at his heels, noting the way people keep glaring at me, probably because I’m a newbie and am technically not supposed to be here.

  “Stay close to me,” Jax utters from under his breath as we reach the outskirts of the field where the pavement meets the grass and dirt. “And remember, don’t touch anything.”

  I’m starting to nod when my grandpa’s voice fills my head.

  Brace yourself, Alana, he whispers. It’s about to start.

  Confusion spins inside me. The feeling only lasts a spilt second before an overwhelming wave of despair crashes through me, so powerful I nearly drop to my knees.

  Fearing I’m about to collapse, I clutch Jax’s arm.

  His eyes drop to my fingers digging into his bicep then rise to my face, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

  Tears sting my eyes. “I think something’s …” I trail off as I catch sight of the field in front of me. The once dry, yellow grass is now stained red with spilled blood, and lifeless, dismembered fey stretch as far as my eyes can see. And the stench. God, the stench … It’s like spoiled meat left out for days to rot in the sunlight.

  Vomit burns the back of my throat, but the nausea is suffocated by the sound of voices blasting through me like exploding glass.

  Help us!

  Help me!

  I can’t breathe!

  Why are you doing this!

  What did we do!

  I don’t want to die!

  I don’t want to die.

  I don’t …

  Want to …

  Die …

  Chapter 7

  My head pulsates maddeningly, as if my brain is fighting to escape my skull, fighting to escape the voices. Faint whispers haunt my thoughts then gradually fade like a light mist.

  Help …

  Please … I … don’t … want … to … die … The last voice slips from my grasp as I return to reality, and the pain in my head subsides.

  “Alana.” Jax’s alarmed face is the first thing that comes into focus. “What the heck just happened?”

  “I, um …” I blink several times, attempting to piece together what happened, but I have absolutely no idea other than maybe a spirit entered me. It seemed different than that, though. More powerful. Like an army of spirits all screamed at me simultaneously. “Jax, I think something’s …”

  Not here, my grandpa whispers. There are too many wandering ears around.

  I scan the people around me and note that many are watching me like a hawk.

  I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell Jax. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He presses his lips together with an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s a lot to handle, especially for someone so inexperienced.”

  “I’m fine,” I assure him. “I can handle it.”

  I’m not sure if I can, and deep down, I want nothing more than to hide out in the car, away from the pain, blood, and evidence of evil. But every fiber in my being is
pulling me toward that field. It’s the exact same feeling I experienced when I was sitting outside the school this morning. Was it merely a coincidence? Or did I somehow sense that, a handful of miles away, a massacre had happened?

  Jax doesn’t seem to buy into my chillaxed act, but he doesn’t push the matter further.

  “All right, come on.” He nods at me to follow as he walks farther into the crime scene.

  I tail him, matching his steps to avoid ruining evidence as we make our way down a flattened, body-free section of the field.

  The foul stench of death still possesses the air. I want to draw my shirt over my nose, but I don’t want to appear uneasy, either.

  “Still doing, okay?” Jax asks, glancing left and right at the piles of bodies beside us.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice quivers as a pounding urge to touch the bodies burns inside me. The feeling makes me sick to my stomach. What is wrong with me? Why is my mind suddenly so possessed with such morbidly twisted thoughts?

  I hug my arms around myself and continue following Jax. One foot in front of the other. You’ll be fine. Just don’t look down.

  That’s all I want to do: look down and assess the damage. Could it be a Guardian thing? Could my powers, or whatever the hell you want to call them, be expanding?

  I fight the compulsion to look down for as long as I can, but when Jax grinds to a halt, I stop with him, and my gaze descends.

  The urge takes over, the need to touch the bodies so overpowering I can scarcely breathe.

  “I need to go talk to my supervisor for a second and get caught up,” he says, skimming the area. “Wait here for a second.”

  I nod dazedly as he wanders off. When he’s far enough away, I bend down and brush my fingers along the arm of a female a few years older than me.

  When fey are alive, they mostly remain in their human form. But after they die, the glamour fades, and their original form shows through. Some of their forms are ghastly and terrifying, as bad as scenes in nightmares. Others, though, are hauntingly beautiful. The fey in front of me is part of the latter with shimmering violet skin, silver hair dipped in diamonds, lips tattooed with curvy, inky patterns.