Ephemeral (The Countenance) (43 page)

It doesn’t take long for word of mouth, a.k.a. Kresley, to get back to Wes.

During our nutrition break, Wesley holds me under a spreading Maple with its leaves shagging out all over the navy lawn. A thicket of grey clouds pull across the sky, threatening and heavy, in one bland sheet.

“Heard you scored detention.” There’s a touch of hurt in his eyes, and I don’t like where this might be going.

“Cooper.” I shake my head. “I guess he wanted to tell me about some breakthrough therapy his dad has in store for me. Probably involves a key, a kite, and a lightning storm.” I try to steady my thoughts in on the lie, not giving anything away subliminally. It’s like holding a wall of granite up with one arm tied behind my back. An impossible task that’s physically depleting in every way.

“Great,” he whispers, lacking any true enthusiasm behind it.
Looks like good old Coop can’t get enough of my girlfriend.
His dimples implode at the thought. “Hopefully the new treatment will be just what you need.” He scans over me as if searching for the answers he’s really looking for. “We still have to celebrate your indoctrination.”

“Sure. Carter wants me to join her at Kettles Saturday night—if it doesn’t pour.” I glance up at the sky. “She invited us to go out with her and Jackson.”

“For sure.” He dips into a nod. “I’ll bring extra blankets so we don’t freeze.” His dark hair swoops over his eyes, and my stomach bottoms out. Everything about Wes melts me to the point of incapacity.

“I’ll keep you warm.” I push a kiss to his lips. The thought of snuggling up on the beach with Wes is a stroke of brilliance. I should bake Carter a cake for suggesting the idea.

“I like the sound of that.” He returns the favor with heartfelt vigor. There’s a slight patina of sorrow in Wesley’s kisses like he knows something is off and who’s responsible for it.

I back up and pull my hands around his shoulder, safe away from his skin, turning off the live stream from my private thoughts. This new version of Wes seems impervious to his old life in every way but the sweetness remains, the artist, the lover I long to make my own. He’s in there. Some things are impossible to change.  

“And who knows?” I press my lips together. “I might just have my memory fully restored by then and we both know what that means.” Maybe if I offer up the most intimate part of me—that will lead him back to who he really is. He could find himself while discovering every part of me.

“I’m getting the idea it’s not coming back so quickly.” A small rumble of laughter trembles from his chest. “Are you sure you want to give yourself to me like that?” There’s an uncertainty in his eyes as if there were some mistake, and I would wake up to the fact Wes Paxton wasn’t the boy I wanted to be with.

“Are you kidding?” I study him intently. Wes and his serious eyes, his gorgeous blessed-by-God features that practically demand girls worship at his feet. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever loved. The only one I’ve ever wanted. If I could trace out each day with you by my side, I’d live a very happy life.”

“Well, then,” he says, picking up my hands and interlocking our fingers with the most serious intent, “I plan on making you very, very happy.”

Wes bears into me those bright green sirens and doesn’t say a word.

Every day I’m going to fight to get you back, Laken. There’s not another day of your life I plan on missing
.
And, I’ll trash a thousand Cooper Flanders who try to get in my way.

43

Stacks

“The classics are all upstairs.” Wes concludes his tour of the grand library after I spent a rather uneventful detention session with Coop.

The Roman colonnades that run across the interior mimic the ones at the Anderson estate. Beveled crystal chandeliers dot the ceiling in rows. High up on the walls, each stained glass window tells its own peculiar story. The relief work at the top of the rotunda spans an entire angelic history. I could lose myself for hours just lying beneath the muted colors, trying to decipher the story behind the imagery, decode the secrets whispered through the gilded fresco.

“The Ephemeral library is by far one of the most majestic places I’ve ever been,” I confess, still enamored by the regal beauty that encapsulates us.

“I’ll have to rectify that.” He gives a shy smile that suggests something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“What?”

“Our families went to Spain two summers ago.” There’s a marked sadness in his tone. “I sketched you by the river, and you said it was the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.”

It’s becoming painfully clear I’ll never be able to fake any memory of my well-doctored past.

“I’d like to see that sketch sometime.”

“Done.” He picks up my hands. “Swing by Henderson, and I’ll show you my work.”
I’ll have to hide a third of my stuff, or she’ll think I’m a stalker
.

My mouth falls open at the revelation. The thought of being the epicenter of Wesley’s obsession radiates through me sharp as light refracting through a prism. Our love sprays the walls with its indelible rainbow.

He squints into me and a smile slides up his cheek, as if acknowledging my odd thought. “Game’s Friday.” He’s quick to change the subject. “I get to see you in action. You excited?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, lackluster. “I still haven’t memorized any of the routines. I’ll be the awkward one that looks like she’s having a seizure.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great.” His demeanor darkens. “So, how was detention?” He ticks his head to the side.
Bet Coop took full advantage of it and played out those twenty minutes in heaven for all they were worth.

“It was fine—finished most of my homework. I should have detention every day to keep me focused.” I give a private smile at his jab at Cooper.

A student appears at the front desk returning a stack of books, thick hardbacks with Mylar dustcovers. I lean over his shoulder as Wes processes them, trying to memorize his actions. It looks basic—scan the inside jacket and place the books on the go-back cart.  

Wes gives a half-smile in my direction. “Too much detention and you can land on academic probation which means no cheer for sure.” His expression sours. “I told Coop to keep his notes to himself.”

“You did?” I’m reveling in his jealousy.

“The football team needs him.” He shrugs as if that were all that was at stake. “He’s one of our best defensive linemen.”

“I’d hate to be responsible for removing one of Ephemeral’s star players from the roster. I’ll stay as far away from Coop as possible.” I dot the sentiment with an impish grin.

“Hello,” a familiar voice booms from behind the counter.

“Cooper!” I jump a little at the sight of him.

Shit.

There he is in all his defensive linemen glory. He’s wearing a ratty old sweatshirt with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and he gives a seductive smile—proof positive my efforts to evade him won’t get me far.

“Hi, Laken!” A tiny voice squeaks beside him. I hadn’t even noticed Marky standing there, her face nearly eye level with the thick marble counter. A pink barrette sits pronounced in her dark, wavy hair. I miss all those details about Lacey. Her mass pile of accessories, the Barbie shoes that made sure to find their way under my bare feet during midnight raids to the kitchen. The hair, the clothes, the scent—everything—dear God up in Heaven, I miss everything. 

“Hi, you,” I say. “Almost ready for the big mall crawl?” The cavernous room has lost all of its pretentiousness. It has a whole new energy with her small happy face gracing us with its presence. It takes everything in me not to comment on how much like Lacey she is—point it out to Wes to see if he’ll agree.

“What’s up, Coop?” Wes breathes it out with boredom as the two of them stare one another down. You can feel the temperature rising, the testosterone charging the air.

“My dad wanted me to pass on a few exercises for Laken.” Coop sharpens his glare before continuing. It’s clear that I’ve inadvertently stuck a fork in any sort of friendship they might have had. “He’s at a convention—had to take off for the week but he thought I should give them to her.” He gives a quick glance in my direction, careful not to latch on. I wish I could return the favor, pretend that he meant nothing, but I can’t look away. It’s like he has me under a spell, and I’m victim to his carnal rovings.

“I have a list of books I need to read for class.” Marky widens her eyes over at Wes. “Could you help me find them? Cooper said he’d check them out for me.”

“Why, I’d be happy to, young lady.” Wes moves around to the other side of the counter and examines the list. “Nice. You’re going to be one smart cookie once you read all these. Let’s go.”

Marky turns back and winks at me as they walk off toward the back. It’s obvious Wes was just tag teamed by the Flanders’ brother-sister breakup brigade. I can’t help feel a little sorry for him.

“What’s up?” I straighten a pile of books in front of me. I try to focus in on their dull ragged covers, the gilded lettering along the spines vying for my attention, but I revert back to Coop like a spring.

“This.” He produces a frail-looking sepia picture encased in a plastic sheath. It’s a photo of a small group of girls each sporting short, dated hairstyles iconic of the fifties, long smooth waves flip up toward the bottom. He glides his thumb over two girls standing in the back row. “Amelia and Hattie Tobias. Identical twins.”

Something about those dark eyes, their haunting expressions, feels strangely familiar.

“What about them?”

“I did some digging and found out Ephemeral has a consistent record of students disappearing.”

“What?” I hiss. “You think they were Celestra?”

“There’s no real way of knowing.” He entombs the picture between the pages of his lit book. “Most were listed as runaways.” Our eyes lock strong as concrete—an entire hornet’s nest of possibilities flies between us.

“Then there’s a good chance Casper’s still alive—your mom, too.” It comes out sad. “People being held against their will.” I shake my head. “People taking the role of complete strangers. What the hell kind of demonic mind comes up with this stuff?”

“It’s not one person.” He leans in. “It’s an entire group of people who justify their actions through the propagation of their kind.”

“The Counts,” I say it lower than a whisper because now I’m one of them. I’ve grafted myself onto this madness, and in some way I feel responsible for the carnage.  

“We need to find my mom and Casper.” Cooper gets lost in a faraway stare.

I can’t imagine what it would feel like knowing your own mother is being milked for blood, treated like a lab experiment and made to suffer.

“What’s with the creepy picture?” I reach forward meaning to touch his lit book but end up laying my hand over his in an effort to comfort him.

Coop drops his chin into his chest and gives a sad smile. “You mentioned when you saw those girls—
beings
the other night, that there were two of them.”

“They were saying, Hattie and Amelia.” I gasp at the prospect. “Can I see that picture again?”

He pulls it out just enough for me to see their faces.

“The girls I saw were balding, emaciated and scary.” I shake my head. “But those eyes.” Those sad elongated orbs look desperately the same.

“If you lose enough blood, you become anemic.” Coop’s heated breath skims over my cheek with the scent of fresh mint. “With severe anemia, your hair falls out, you can lose it in patches just the way you described. If they weren’t being fed, or they refused to eat, they’d become emaciated.”

“You think I saw Hattie and Amelia’s ghosts?” Tears well up in my eyes at the thought of what the Counts had done to them. How they ended their days so frighteningly monstrous. “Coop…” I breathe his name out in a sigh. I want to lunge across the counter and pull him in. The fact he believes the things I tell him merits him an Olympic worthy medal—he’s already taken gold in the event of my affection.

“I know you saw them.” He sears me with a solemn gaze. “And, the fact they opened a portal into the Transfer leads me to believe they’re trying to help you in some way.”