Cold Kiss Page 16

  Before she can answer, something crashes in the living room, and Olivia’s voice carries into the kitchen. “Um, Wren?”

  I stumble out of my chair and into the other room. Danny has kicked over the coffee table, and magazines and books and a dying potted plant have spilled over the green shag carpet. He’s struggling, trying to get up, but my impromptu spell won’t let him.

  If the look he gives me is any indication, he knows it, too, and he’s pissed.

  “Danny, stop.”

  “You’re the one…” He wriggles, kicking his feet out again. His hands are clenched into fists as he tries to push against the magic holding him to the sofa.

  “Just relax,” I’m begging as fresh tears spill down my face. He’s as furious as he was in the park, charging at me like a bull, and if he managed to kick over the coffee table, I’m not sure how long the loose bond will last. “Please, Danny. We can go in a minute, but you have to calm down, please.”

  “Let me go.”

  Three simple words, and yet they stand for everything I haven’t been able to do since he died. Grief and regret flood through me, and it’s like trying to walk away from the wind—I can’t escape it, so I let it slam into me instead.

  “Stop,” I scream, just like the morning in the park, and Danny collapses as if his strings have been cut. He slumps back against the sofa, boneless where he was rigid and straining just a moment ago, eyes still open, staring at the ceiling without seeing it.

  The silence rings, stretching out so long, I flinch when Olivia makes a soft, wordless noise.

  “Oh, kid.” Behind me, Rosalie puts a hand on my shoulder. I can’t let myself lean into the weight of it, because if I do, I’m pretty sure I’ll break into a million tiny, heartbroken pieces.

  Olivia is trembling. “It’s okay,” I say. My chest is still heaving. “He’s just sort of … sleeping. Like before, when Gabriel and I brought him back to your place. But you have to help me get him into the car, okay? Olivia?”

  She nods.

  “You go get the car open,” Rosalie says to her. “I’ll help with this one.”

  Since Olivia isn’t much bigger than I am, I don’t argue, but it’s still ridiculous and completely undignified, the two of us struggling under Danny’s weight as we push and pull and drag him out to the driveway and into the car.

  Dead weight, the voice in my head supplies, accusing, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw fresh tears so it will go away.

  By the time Danny is flopped in the backseat, unseeing and motionless, we’re both panting, but Rosalie stops me before I climb into the front passenger seat. Olivia’s already inside, staring straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel.

  “Full moon is Monday night,” Rosalie says. Her ruddy cheeks are redder now, and sweat is gleaming on her forehead even in the chilly afternoon air. “I wouldn’t wait, kid.”

  As if. Even I’m not balking anymore. “But how…?”

  “Whatever you did, twist it.” She shrugs, and the wind tosses her hair back. “Do it backward. Think about the spell you created and what you want this spell to do. Think about … giving him some peace. Just … choose your words wisely.”

  The fingertips of my clenched right hand push into the scar on my palm, and I nod. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, it’s nothing, really.” When she shrugs this time, it’s a little helpless-looking. “And good luck.”

  There’s no doubt I’m going to need it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I’M SORRY ROSALIE COULDN’T HELP.”

  Olivia’s tone is wistful by the time we’re back at the apartment, which surprises me. She didn’t have to help me. She could have run screaming the other way, and instead she’s sorry. She’s as delicately made as Gabriel, and she looks a lot like a light breeze would knock her over, but there’s steel in her bones.

  Just like her brother.

  “I know there was probably a sweet boy in there once,” she says, shrugging sadly, “but he’s angry, Wren. He’s angry and confused, and he’s dead. And what’s worse, now he seems to know it.”

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to say except “I’m sorry,” and I’m pretty sure that’s getting old for everyone involved.

  “What exactly did Rosalie say?” Gabriel asks.

  “That there’s a full moon Monday night.” Olivia shrugs and glances at the closed door to Gabriel’s bedroom. “Do you think you can be ready by then?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “I wish I could do something more to help,” she tells me before taking a sighing breath and relaxing. “But for now I’m going to treat myself to a very stiff drink. Or four. And say a prayer of thanks that I wasn’t the one who got the woo-woo powers in my family.”

  When she disappears into the kitchen, Gabriel comes to sit beside me on the sofa. “You want to tell me exactly what happened?”

  “Not really.” I shrug when he glares at me. “I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of thinking, and crying, and worrying, and breathing, if you want the truth. But I meant what I said. On Monday this is all going to be over.”

  “Are you sure?” He sits forward, elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed, and I wish he wasn’t so stupidly beautiful that even in concern he’s gorgeous to look at.

  It doesn’t mean his worrying doesn’t get annoying, though. “Gabriel.”

  “I’m serious,” he protests, gray eyes wide and honest. “What if the spell doesn’t work? What if you can’t come up with a spell at all? What if he—”

  “Gabriel.” Danny never made me as furious as Gabriel sometimes can. “Give me some credit, okay? I mean, I know it was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but I did figure out how to bring him back in the first place. Just stop, okay? I will take care of this.”

  “I know that. But this is different.”

  “How?”

  “This time you have to get Danny to the graveyard, and he isn’t exactly Mr. Cooperative when he’s awake, if you haven’t noticed. What do you think he’s going to do when you start chanting some spell? Just sit back and wait to die? Again?”

  Damn it. I haven’t thought that far ahead, but then I haven’t really thought much further than the next ten minutes for days. I glance up as Olivia leaves the kitchen and goes into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  “Look, I’ll figure it out,” I snap, pushing up off the sofa. “It’s not your problem anyway.”

  “Wren, I just want to—”

  “Help. I know, I’ve heard.” He flinches, and it’s meaner than I meant to be, but I don’t want to make him any more a part of this than he already is. There are some things you don’t want anyone to see. And I’m beginning to feel like my whole life is one of them.

  “Why do you care so much?” I ask, even though I can’t face him and I’m talking to my feet, the scuffed toes of my Docs against the dull wood floor. “I mean, honestly. Why do you even like me?”

  “Wren.” It’s my turn to flinch when he steps up beside me and lays his hand on the small of my back. I want it so much, to count on it there, to lean back into it, to let him take some of my weight. But I can’t, not now, not with Danny in one room and Olivia in the other.

  Not when I don’t even understand what it is he sees in me. The only things I see anymore when I look in the mirror make me want to run away.

  “Do you want, like, an itemized list or the Reader’s Digest version?” he says, leaning close enough that I can feel his breath tickle my cheek.

  I open my mouth to answer him just as the phone in the kitchen rings, a shrill surprise. He drops his hand as if we’ve been doing a lot more than just standing close together, and when it keeps ringing, he bolts toward the kitchen to pick it up.

  I wrap my arms around myself and wait, even though I don’t know what for. Whatever Gabriel feels for me, I can’t let it matter to me. I have to go home eventually, for one thing, and face my mother. I have to apologize to Jess and Darcia, if they’ll let me. And I hav
e to create a spell that will send Danny back to death.

  It doesn’t matter that the only thing I want right now is to put my arms around Gabriel, to feel his arms around me and his mouth on mine, to let him take some of my fear and grief and swallow it for me.

  Real love is supposed to be more than solace, more than a way to forget. I had real love once, I think, and what did I do with it? I made Danny do those things for me when he was the one who needed peace the most.

  When Gabriel touches my arm, I’m so lost in my thoughts, I jump. He holds out the phone, a cheap portable handset, and frowns. “It’s for you.”

  My mother, I think, my heart sinking into my stomach with a nauseating thud, but I take it anyway. It’s not like I can hide forever.

  “Hello?”

  “Wren, don’t hang up.”

  As if. It’s Aunt Mari, and I’m so stunned with relief, I stumble forward a step. “How did you…? I mean, how could you know…?”

  “You’re not the only one with magic in this family.” I can hear the smile in her voice, but she’s tired, too, I can tell. “I have a proposal for you.”

  Bliss is quiet when I walk in, only two kids from school at a table in the front window, and Mari at another along the wall, two tall mugs of coffee already set out. Trevor’s behind the counter as always, and he looks up when the bell jingles.

  “You’re not working tonight.”

  “You’re lucky I come in on my day off. This place is really hopping.” It feels good to snap at him the way I always do, especially when he just rolls his eyes, the way he always does.

  “Nothing’s on the house,” he calls as I walk over to Mari’s table and pull out a chair. He’s lying, of course, but the tough-guy act is one of his favorite things.

  “I see Trevor hasn’t lost his charm,” Mari says drily, loud enough for him to hear.

  “You either,” he retorts, and a moment later he’s tapping on his keyboard as if a little banter was just what he needed to get his creative juices flowing.

  I hang my bag over the back of my chair and look at Mari properly for the first time in months. I haven’t seen her since a few weeks after Danny’s funeral, and at the time I was spending every free minute furtively studying spell books. She was the last person I wanted to see then.

  She looks good, though strain shows in the dark blue smears under her eyes and the tangled knot of curls on top of her head. There are only two explanations for her knowing that I took off, and my bet is actually on Mom calling her rather than Robin. It’s hardly the most important thing right now, but it’s a small sign of hope.

  “You okay?” She reaches across the table to put her hand on mine, and all I can do is nod. My throat is suddenly choked with tears again.

  “More or less, huh?” she says. Her smile is fond. “Your mom’s on the ‘less’ end of the spectrum at the moment, and so is Robin. She said she texted you and you didn’t answer.”

  Oh God. Robin must be completely freaked out. “I haven’t even looked at my phone since yesterday.”

  “I figured. And you might be mad, but I told them you agreed to meet me here. Just so they’d know you were okay.”

  “I was going to go home, really,” I say, but it’s a hoarse whisper. Sometime later, I’m going to look into having my tear ducts removed. I haven’t cried this often ever, and I hate how weak and helpless it makes me feel. Having power explode out of me is bad enough, I don’t need to be leaking tears every minute.

  “I’d like to take you home when we’re done here,” Mari says. It sounds like a suggestion, but I know it isn’t.

  “What did Mom tell you?” I pick up my mug and blow across the top, just so I won’t have to look at Mari’s face.

  “I’m more interested in what you want to tell me, to be honest.”

  That’s a great big nothing, but there’s no way I’m going to get away with that. I gulp at my coffee, which is still a little too hot, and splutter a little. “It’s nothing,” I finally manage. “I mean, okay, it’s not nothing, but I’m handling it. And like I told Mom, I’m not on drugs, and I’m not pregnant, and I’m not wanted by the police, so…”

  “Good to know.” There’s that dry tone again, paired this time with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, Wren, this is me. What’s going on?”

  I hate that I can’t tell her anything. But I can’t bear the look I know I’ll see on her face if I admit what I’ve done. As far as Mom’s turned from her own power, Mari equally celebrates hers. But she’s never used it lightly, and there’s no way she would understand that I used mine to bring someone back from the dead, even Danny.

  “I went a little crazy,” I venture, glancing toward the counter in case Trevor is listening in, which he loves to do when he’s frustrated and can’t come up with the right sentence. “After Danny, I mean. And … I met a new guy. So that’s been a little … strange.”

  It’s nowhere near the whole truth, but it’s part of it. Admitting that Gabriel figures into the last couple of days is even harder than I expected. It still feels like a betrayal.

  Naturally, Trevor caught that juicy tidbit, and he looks as pleased as Mari looks wistful.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She reaches for my hand again and squeezes my fingers gently. “That has to be hard. But no matter how much you loved Danny, life doesn’t stop at seventeen. And you deserve another chance at finding someone. More than one, I bet.”

  I knew that admitting I liked another boy would seem to explain everything, and part of me hates to use Gabriel that way. But I can’t tell Mari the whole truth. It’s selfish, I know, but if I’m going to fix it, I don’t want them ever to know how bad I messed up.

  They all know that I am the girl who touches the hot stove and drops the eggs. They don’t need to know that I’m also the girl who thought love came with ownership papers, who decided to try to cheat death so her own life wouldn’t feel so empty, no matter what it would do to the boy she loved.

  Mari’s waiting for me to agree, I can tell, so I nod. I’m beginning to feel numb, but the day’s not even close to over. I sip my coffee slowly. The longer it takes to drink, the longer it will be before Mari drives me home, and that’s some comfort, anyway. She’s been understanding, but I doubt Mom is going to be.

  “Trevor, you got any of Geoff’s iced maple cookies left over there?” Mari calls.

  “Could be,” he says, and shrugs. He likes to give her a hard time, because he likes to give everyone a hard time, but I think she also fascinates him. She’s been coming into the café longer than I have—she’s actually the one who introduced me to it. She’s been a preschool teacher for years, but she’s always doing something else on the side—making jewelry one day, singing in a band another, once even appearing in an indie horror movie shot in the city. I think he’s jealous of how fully she lives her life, and I don’t really blame him.

  “Wrap up a dozen, if you can find them, that is.” She winks at me when he groans and gets off his stool. “I think we might need some sugary goodness later.”

  If you ask me, it’s a little like frosting a cake made out of sewage and old socks, but I’m not arguing. When I face Mom, I’m going to be grateful for any help I can get.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ROBIN MUST HEAR THE CAR PULL INTO THE driveway, because she bursts out the front door and is running down the porch steps before I can even get out.

  I stagger backward when she attack-hugs, her sturdy arms wrapped so tightly around me, I can hardly breathe.

  “Don’t ever, ever do that again.” Her voice shakes, but the rest of her is fiercely sturdy, clinging to me like a monkey. “Promise me.”

  “I do.” I kiss the top of her head, and her hair is earthy and unwashed. “I’m so sorry, Binny. So sorry.”

  She squeezes me, hard, and my ribs pinch in protest. “You better be. Where were you?”

  “Not far, really. I’m okay.” I take a shaky breath when she finally lets go, and Mari walks around the car to grab Robin’s hand
.

  “Inside, huh?” She tugs and Robin follows, but not before grabbing my hand so we’re walking up the porch steps like a crooked daisy chain.

  And at the top, standing just inside the screen door, is Mom.

  “We brought cookies,” Mari says brightly, but Mom doesn’t even seem to hear her. She’s staring at me, only at me, and steps aside just far enough to let Mari and Robin into the house before she says a word.

  “Wren.”

  I can hear so much in the single word, love and regret and relief and even anger, and I wonder if it will sound the same if I say, “Mom.” Instead, I push the screen aside and walk in. We’re only inches apart, so close I can smell the clean cotton of her shirt, the faint citrus of her shampoo, but the distance seems like miles. Just as I decide I should keep walking, she grabs me and pulls me against her.

  “I guess we need to talk,” she murmurs into my hair, and I nod.

  “You’re not off the hook here, you know,” she adds as she sets me away from her. “I’m still angry.”

  “I know.” I steady my voice. “So am I.”

  Her mouth twists as if she’s trying not to smile. “Fair enough.”

  The fire is hypnotic, long fingers of flame reaching for the flue, the grate, flicking and snapping with the wind outside. Now that Mari’s taken Robin upstairs and Mom and I are settled on the hearth, it’s hard to know where to begin. I watch the fire instead, holding my palms up to let the heat seep in.

  “So this is awkward,” Mom says mildly, and I can’t help but snort. “I guess I should have read one of those parenting books, you know?” She’s looking at the flames, too, instead of at me, and I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. “Teenage Rebellion and You or something like that.”

  “I’m not rebelling, Mom.”

  “Aren’t you? I made something forbidden and you decided to go ahead and do it anyway. Unless this isn’t about the magic.” She finally turns to face me, and maybe the fire is magic, too. As the flickering shadows move over her face, I can see myself there in the set of her jaw, and Robin in the hair falling across her forehead, and Mari and even Gram in the shape of her eyes.