Cursed (17 page)

“You’re grounded, because you should’ve come to me. I could’ve stepped in before this—whatever this is—involved any of the outsiders. This is the second time you’ve let me down, Ember. I had to use my gift to manipulate someone. The last thing I need is the school administration prying around my home because they so obviously believe that one of my children has something to do with this.”

“Go figure,” I snapped.

“And trust that I will have a talk with every single one of them this evening.”

“But I didn’t tell any of them!”

Cromwell glanced in my direction. “I don’t know why you think you can lie to me.”

I didn’t, either.

Chapter 20

I
kept waiting for Cromwell to change his mind, to storm into my bedroom and inform me that he’d contacted the Facility and they were coming for me. But as the hours passed and the light of the moon crept across the room, I realized I was safe for the time being.

My nerves settled down enough that I could get some semblance of sleep. I don’t know what woke me near sunrise. Maybe it’d been a nightmare. I’d dreamt of shadowy figures following me, which probably explained why my heart threw itself against my ribs.

I sat up and tossed the covers off my legs. Climbing out of bed, I took a step, and then noticed a shadow against the door. And when it moved forward, I opened my mouth to scream.

“Ember, it’s me.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasped, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hayden said quietly.

I could barely see him. Once I felt sure I wouldn’t pass out, I stood up again. “How long have you been in here?”
Watching me sleep
? Even though I didn’t say that, it hung in the air between us. Instead of creeping me out, which it should have, knowing that he was in here made me feel weird… in a good way—a confusing way.

“Not that long. I was debating if I wanted to wake you up.”

“Oh. Is… is everything okay?”

“I think that’s a question only you can answer.”

“I guess Cromwell talked to you last night.”

“You guessed correctly.”

I sighed and reached for the bedside lamp, but Hayden suddenly stood in front of me. I don’t know how he moved so fast. Up close, I could see his expression, but couldn’t gain anything from it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the other stuff?” he demanded, his voice low.

I should’ve known he’d be mad, but I hadn’t been concerned with that last night. I started to turn, but he caught my arm. “We haven’t exactly been getting along.”

Hayden lowered his head, meeting my wide-eyed stare and holding it. “That’s not a good enough reason, Ember.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to bother you with it. Anyway, it was just hamburger meat and I did overreact.”

“What about the dolls and the noose? What about the fact that you told a teacher and not me, Ember?”

Well, apparently Cromwell had told him everything. “Mr. Theo—”

“The English teacher?”

“Yeah, but he knew about the rabbit. And I didn’t mean to tell him about the rest, but he knew something was going on and—”

Hayden cut me off, eyes flaring. “You told him over me?”

His words meant something. It wasn’t me telling a teacher over him. Or even a stranger over him. You told
him
over me. I recognized the look in his eyes, because I
felt
it whenever he left lunch with Phoebe. Not anger. Not even disappointment. “You’re—are you actually jealous?”

“What?”

“You are! You’re jealous because I told Mr. Theo over you.” I yanked my arm back, but he pulled me right up against him. My legs were flush with his, our chests met. I could feel him take his next deep breath, and I forgot what I was saying.

The look of jealousy slipped away, replaced by something equally frustrating. His hands slid up to my shoulders, sending tiny shivers down my body. He backed me up until my legs hit my desk. “Can I?”

“Sure.” I had no idea what I was agreeing to.

Hayden lifted me and sat me on the desk. His hands lingered on my hips, his touch burning through the thin cloth. A smoky scent, like a candle blown out, wafted through my room, but there was no source.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my breath hitching.

“I don’t know.”

“Hayden?” I whispered.

“Yes?” He shifted closer, his warm breath brushing the skin of my neck like the night in the cabin. This was
our
form of kissing—our soft, feathery-light kisses that never made contact.

My hand rose reflexively, wanting to touch him. I stopped myself a mere inch from his cheek. Helplessly, my fingers curled around thin air.

“It’s okay.” His hands were on the move again, sliding upward. When they circled my waist, all rational thought went out the window. His breath trailed across my throat, around my chin and stopping over my cheek. His fingers curved along my back as his soft breath hovered over my lips. “Do you know what you do to me?”

I think I shook my head, but I wasn’t sure. All I could concentrate on was how exquisite, how right, how wonderful being this close to him felt.

His breath still lingered over my lips, and one of his hands drifted upwards, stopping at the collar of my shirt.

And then he touched me.

My eyes fell shut and a tiny sigh escaped me. Hayden moved the tips of his fingers across my neck, over my chin. They jerked more than once, but he continued until his entire hand pressed against my cheek.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded hoarsely.

Any resolve I had shattered. I touched his face, cupped his cheek. His skin felt just like I’d imagined. No. Better than I’d ever thought. His skin was hot, smooth, and inviting. Maybe even as hot as I felt and I was tingling all over.

Hayden let out a ragged sound. Seconds went by, and just our breathing could be heard. His thumb traced a broken circle over my cheek. He couldn’t keep his hand still. Whatever poison in my skin affected him, but I couldn’t pull my hand away.

I inhaled once, twice. The scent of smoke and spice filled me.

He moved his other hand to the nape of my neck, his fingers spasming as they made contact with my skin. A startled sound escaped me. My brain couldn’t process one logical thought other than how wonderful he felt—how beautiful, how alive.

“Ember…?” His voice felt like a whisper against my lips.

He was going to kiss me. I knew it. My entire body tensed in anticipation, my pulse hummed deliciously. But on the fringes, things start to blur. Even as I felt like I would burst through my skin any second, my head started to swim. Then he pulled away so fast I nearly fell off the desk.

Panting heavily, Hayden stepped back and stared. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Did I hurt you?” I asked, surprised by how husky my own voice sounded.

He looked at me like I’d grown a hand out of my head and it’d wiggled fingers at him. “I was hurting you, Ember. I could feel it.”

“No,” I said slowly. “I was just a little dizzy. You didn’t drain anything, right?”

“I wanted to.” He looked away. “Don’t you get it? I did. I could feel it happening and I would’ve held on. I would’ve done it.”

I wished he’d pull me back into his arms. I liked it there. And I didn’t see what the big deal was. “It’s okay. Nothing happened.” I sounded a little disappointed.

“I could have seriously hurt you.” He ran a hand over his head, clasping the back of his neck.

“Do you realize how weird this is? I’m the one who could’ve
seriously
hurt you. You can make me dizzy and maybe, worst-case scenario, put me in a coma for a few days. I can
kill
you. So who has the bigger right to freak out here? I’d say me.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me. I haven’t told you this, but my gift would kick in before you did any serious damage. I don’t think I’d even be able to stop it from doing so.”

Well, that was good to know. But it didn’t bother me. It actually made me glad that he was protected in that way. I chewed on my lower lip and watched him. Regret strained his face. That kind of stung. This probably explained why I asked the next question. “Are you still mad that I told Mr. Theo and not you?”

Hayden took a step back, eyes narrowing. “I think it’s ridiculous that you’d confide in a complete stranger. I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you, but Mr. Theo isn’t a stranger.” I hopped down from the desk and brushed past him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you didn’t want to hear about it anymore. That you were done dealing with it.”

“What?” He spun around. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to bother you.” I folded my arms. “I just thought it would make us argue more.”

Hayden shook his head. “I don’t understand you sometimes. If you could just let go of how you feel about my family for two seconds—”

“Not going to happen.”

He groaned. “Do you know—do you even care how disappointed he was in me? What that meant to me?”

My head jerked up. “What? You didn’t tell him you knew about the stuff in the locker, did you? I told him I didn’t tell anyone, Hayden. Oh, God.”

“He didn’t appreciate the fact that I’d been hiding what was happening.”

“Then why did you tell him?”

“I needed to tell him the truth, Ember!” he said, equally frustrated. “It’s bad enough that I’ve been lying to him about helping you.”

“I never made you help me! You pushed it on me!”

He stared at me for what seemed like forever. “My father was on the phone with every contact he has ever made in the last ten years after he reamed my ass out last night. He sent Kurt to find out who’s behind the stuff in your locker.”

That meant nothing. I’d do the same thing if I was guilty and wanted people to believe I wasn’t, but the look on his face stopped me from letting those words get past my lips.

“And I know none of that means anything to you.”

I flushed. There was no point in denying it. I folded my arms and glared at him.

“But I wish it did. Then you could see that my family isn’t against you.” He stepped forward, catching the edge of my sleeve. Only the tips of his fingers brushed my skin, but it felt like a thousand touches in one. “They’ve been watching over you for so long. My father wants to help you. He’ll do everything and anything to keep you and your sister safe.”

I unfolded my arms, and Hayden let go. He didn’t step back. My hands found the sleeve of his shirt. Mimicking his early movements, the tips of my fingers brushed the skin of his wrist. I closed my eyes, but I could tell the shadows in the room were breaking apart as the sun started to rise over the mountain.

“Please. Ember, you have to trust him. Trust
me
.”

The moment I opened my eyes, Hayden knew. Neither of us spoke. There was just too much that pointed at Cromwell for me to ever trust the man, and Hayden would always remain loyal to him.

Our eyes connected for the briefest moment. Then he left without saying a word. I turned to the balcony. The sun had crested the mountain, casting an orange, fiery glow over the woods, and in that second, everything burned.

* * *

“I spoke to Principal Hawkes,” Mr. Theo said, eyeing two students in the hallway who had their tongues shoved down each other’s throats. For a teacher, he didn’t seem to mind the PDA like every other adult did. “She said everything is being taken care, and you shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Feeling a strange pain in my chest, I pulled my gaze from the couple. The ache transferred to my temples. “Yeah.”

He looked at me sharply. “You don’t sound too convinced of that.”

I squeezed the coin between my fingers, wondering how things had gone from Hayden almost kissing me this morning to not even speaking to me. We’d argued before, but they’d been different. “I’m just tired.”

Mr. Theo turned and faced me. “You left school early yesterday. Was it because you wanted to, or were you made to?”

His question caught me off-guard, and between the pain in my head and lack of sleep, my brain wasn’t up for the challenge of lying or talking in general. I just wanted to finish this day and go to sleep.

“Ember?”

I blinked. “No. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Well, at least you have Thanksgiving break to rest up and feel better.”

Yeah. A whole week of being stuck in the house with people who hated me sounded like a restful experience. “I hope you have a nice break.” I could hear the emptiness in my own voice. No emotion. I was that tired. Or maybe it was something else. I pushed away, swinging the bag onto my shoulder.

“Ember?” he called out. I’d gotten about a yard away before twisting back around. “Take care of yourself.”

Chapter 21

I
stared down at my cup of hot chocolate, watching the darker chocolate swirl. She might be an evil child-stealer, but Aunt Liz could make some kick-ass hot chocolate. Setting the mug aside, I picked up the pad of paper and turned to a blank page. My mind wandered as I started etching lines across the paper.

Liz had taken Olivia to the library after lunch and they had yet to return. I’d been invited to go, but I’d turned them down. Stupid. I needed a new copy of
Catcher in the Rye
. And since Olivia was the only living thing in this house who wanted to be around me, I should’ve gone.

So I sat outside on the porch, huddled down in a corner so the chilly breeze couldn’t reach me, waiting for Olivia to come back. Or, at least, I kept telling myself it was because of Olivia. I was totally not waiting for Hayden to come home, hoping to catch him. I’d seen him leave with Phoebe and Gabe a little after noon. I hadn’t been invited.

The pencil slid over the page, a line here, a stronger line there.

The breeze picked up, scattering the dull brown and yellow leaves across the porch. They came to a rest around my sneakers. My mind wandered away from Hayden, right back to another string of thoughts that started a low burn in my stomach.

There wasn’t a part of me that doubted that someone in this house had something to do with the “gifts” in my locker. Pressure built in my chest when I thought about the possibility I could be living with the person responsible for the accident.

I stopped drawing, pushing back a wayward curl as I stared down at my sketch. The marks were unmistakable.
He
stared back at me, a lopsided grin on lips that were fuller on the bottom. I let out a disgusted groan and slammed the sketchpad shut just as the front door swung open.

Parker.

He stopped at the top of the steps and turned, his gaze settling on me. Sunlight sliced across his face, but it didn’t warm his expression.

I tucked the pencil inside the sketchpad and started to stand, but what was I trying to run from? Parker knew everything.

He let out a sigh as he glanced down at the keys in his hand. “I’m sorry about that night in the cabin.”

Struck dumb, I simply stared. Parker never talked to me. Ever.

Clenching the keys in his hand, he inched away from the steps and stopped a good six feet from me. “Sometimes when I read people, I get sucked in. I can’t stop.” He stared off into the woods while he spoke. “And you were especially hard to read. There’s a lot going on in your head.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Should I apologize? But that didn’t seem right, so I said nothing.

Parker appeared okay with that. “It’s hard to block people like you out. People whose brains are always working at something, their emotions always on broadcast.” He paused, finally looking at me. “Phoebe told me you saw.”

“Oh,” I said, knowing he meant the cuts Phoebe had made along her thighs.

“It’s hard for her to block you out, to block out Hayden. It gets to her.”

Somehow, I knew Parker was apologizing for Phoebe’s behavior, explaining why she hurt herself. “I understand it’s hard for her, but she shouldn’t be hurting herself. Someone should do something. Get her help.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Phoebe’s fine.”

“People who are fine don’t cut themselves.”

“Most people don’t believe they’re soulless,” Parker raised his brows. “Nor do they believe they actually want to hurt people. Do you think you’re fine?”

My jaw hit the floor.

“Isn’t that how you deal with your gift? You believe you can’t help it, that your touch is beyond your control. So you’ve convinced yourself that you are soulless, evil. In a way, it takes the responsibility off you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Phoebe cuts to distract herself from other people’s emotions. I stay away from people so I’m not tempted to get in their heads.” Almost like he needed to prove his words, he took a step back. “Gabe is the lucky one; he doesn’t have to deal like we do.”

“What about Hayden?” I asked before I could stop myself.

A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Hayden’s learned to be comfortable with his gifts. Out of all of us, he knew how to deal. He did deal.”

“You say that like he doesn’t deal anymore. I don’t believe that. He’s so… strong.”

Parker shook his head. “Hayden shows you what he wants you to see. You don’t know Hayden. He’s never in control, not when he’s around you.”

* * *

You don’t know Hayden
.

With my sketchpad and lukewarm mug of hot chocolate in hand, I went back inside after Parker left. I shivered in spite of the toasty warmth of the house. Why was I even thinking about Hayden? We weren’t even friends anymore. And besides, according to Phoebe, he had a thing for lost and broken people.

That didn’t flatter me.

I didn’t need him to help me get control of my touch. I didn’t need him to believe that his father had anything to do with the accident. But what about all the other stuff—the things we shared that had nothing to do with my touch or the accident? His friendship, the way he could get me to talk about almost anything? Or the way he looked at me, the way I felt around him?

Coming to a stop in the foyer, I wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t needed any of that stuff for two years. Surely, I didn’t need it now. What I needed to do was forget about Hayden, because right now, he wasn’t important. Finding out who’d been behind the car crash was.

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why someone would want Olivia badly enough to kill. And come on, kill me, too? When I’d been just a kid? Or maybe they’d planned to wipe my mind—erase all of our memories of Olivia—but when she brought me back with a new “gift,” they changed their plans. Maybe they wanted to see what I could do, see how I progressed on my own.

I just couldn’t figure out the “why” behind it all.

Tucking my sketchpad under my arm, I rubbed my temples. Ugh. Lack of sleep mixed in with learning someone might’ve wanted me dead could cause one hell of a headache.

I headed into the kitchen to dump my hot chocolate and found Cromwell at the table, several newspapers spread in front of him. I couldn’t make a hasty retreat before his gaze flicked up from the papers.

“Hello, Ember.”

“Hey.” I ambled over to the sink and dumped the mug, feeling his heavy stare on my back the whole time. It took everything in me to not fling accusations at him. When I turned around, Cromwell leaned back in the chair. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded. “You can ask me anything.”

“Is it possible my parents knew about Olivia’s gift? Before she did anything?”

Cromwell glanced down at one of the papers. “It’s possible, especially if Olivia wasn’t the first one in the family to have a gift.”

“You’re saying someone else could’ve had the gift? In my family?”

“The ability to have gifts hasn’t been proven to be hereditary, but there’ve been several instances in which more than one member of a family has shown a gift. Just like Phoebe and Parker.”

“No way,” I murmured. “Mom and Dad were super-boring and ordinary.”

“Not your parents, but perhaps your grandparents, an aunt, or a cousin?”

My entire family was boring. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I admit I had looked into your family tree a bit when we first brought you here. Mostly for my own curiosity.”

I came closer to where he sat. “Did you find anything?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with him.

Cromwell smiled evenly. My insides went cold. “I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Beyond a doubt, I knew he’d lied. He’d found something—something he didn’t want to share. Cold crept over my skin, leaving little goose bumps behind.

He stood. “Can you follow me, please?”

I was more willing to walk off a cliff, but I didn’t have much of a choice. “Sure.”

Cromwell gave me a look like he knew what I thought, and I’d swear his lips curved into a real smile for just a second or two.

I ended up following Cromwell to his home office clear on the other side of the house. Located in the right wing, a part of the mansion I rarely ventured to, the study seemed sterile and lifeless.

Cromwell went behind his desk while I hovered in the middle of the room, unwilling to get any closer. I couldn’t help it. When I looked at him, I saw my dad smiling at me before he hit the gas and crossed the intersection. A shudder of revulsion crawled over me.

“Cold?” Cromwell asked as he pulled out a ring of keys. “It’s drafty in this part of the house.”

I didn’t answer.

He turned toward the credenza and plucked a key from the ring. “Your sister is convinced this part of the house is haunted. I’m almost positive that Gabe is behind it. He’s quite the prankster.”

I inched closer as he opened up a drawer and thumbed through several files. Craning my neck, my eyes brushed over the name on the first file: “Kurt Lagos.” It was pretty damn thick. So was the file behind his. At first, I didn’t register who it was because I only knew him as Hayden Cromwell. Not Hayden Gray. And then, files marked with the twins’ names, then Gabe’s, and finally, his nimble fingers skimmed over Olivia’s and mine.

Before he could catch me watching, I whirled around and pretended to study a painting on the wall. With its rolling green hills and pastel colors, it reminded me of something I would’ve drawn before the accident, but I didn’t give it any more thought. My brain focused on why Cromwell had files on all of us, and what could be in those files.

A sudden desire overcame me. I wanted to run over there and knock him over so I could get a look at the file. I had a right to know what was in my file, as well as the others. Okay, maybe not the others, but at least Olivia’s and Kurt’s.

And Hayden’s.

“Ember?”

“Yeah?” I turned around.

“I think you might like this.” He held a black album. Resting on top of it was a silver frame.

Coming up next to him, my chest tightened as I saw what was in the frame. It was a picture of my family before the accident, happy and smiling. Dad had his arm around my shoulders and Mom held a squirming three-year-old Olivia in her lap. I reached for them wordlessly, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the album. My eyes remained glued to the picture in the frame. It’d sat beside my bed, and I’d believed that these pictures—these memories—were forever lost.

“Liz went through the boxes we had in storage and gathered up the pictures,” Cromwell explained. “She put them in this photo album for you and Olivia.”

My hands shook as I brought the album and frame to my chest, holding them close. Slowly, I lifted my eyes and met his. Cromwell smiled tightly and looked away. “Thank you,” I whispered, voice hoarse.

Cromwell nodded.

There was nothing else to say. I turned and carried my precious bundle upstairs. I set the picture on the table beside the bed, my fingers lingering on the polished silver for a few seconds. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I opened up the album and started thumbing through the innocent, joyful years captured in the images.

Some of the pictures made me smile, like the ones of baby Olivia with her face beet-red, lips pulled open in a silent wail. And the ones of Dad and me making funny faces at the camera. Or my mom trying to cook, which always had been a humorous endeavor. But the photos also opened up a raw ache deep within my chest. I came to another picture at the back of the album and a burning rose in my throat. It was just the three of us: my parents and me, sitting in a pile of golden leaves, smiling blissfully.

We’d been a real family once. Sometimes I forgot that.

I slid the picture out of the clear plastic film, running my thumb over my dad’s ruggedly handsome face. The burning in the back of my throat took over and tears spilled down my cheeks. Holding the picture close, I curled onto my side and tried to remember why we’d been so happy in those pictures.

* * *

A few hours later, I dragged myself to the sink and splashed cold water over my face. Tears still lingered in my eyes, but I drew in a deep, steadying breath as I pulled my hoodie on and tugged my hair back into a messy ponytail.

Downstairs, I searched for Olivia. After viewing those pictures, I kind of wanted to spend some time with her. The low hum of the TV drew me to the largest of the recreation rooms in the mansion. My steps were slow and light as I treaded to the archway of the room.

No one saw me from where I stood, and I was relieved. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what my face looked like. Gabe sprawled across one of the recliners. Just the top of his curly head was visible. Parker sat across the room, reading a book, as usual. Curled on one side of the couch was my little sister, sound asleep.

And even though I felt sure that my heart couldn’t sink any lower, it plummeted all the way to my sneakers.

On the other side of the couch were Hayden and Phoebe. Nestled between Hayden’s legs, Phoebe lay still, eyes closed. One side of her face was pressed against his chest, and one of Hayden’s arms was thrown over the back of the couch. The other was wrapped around her slim shoulders, his hand resting against her cheek.

Hayden murmured something against the top of Phoebe’s head, and she smiled slightly.

An icy rush of air went down my throat, stealing my breath and freezing my insides. All of them looked so perfect together. Then, as quickly as the chilly feeling came, a red-hot surge shot through my veins.

Phoebe flinched and opened her eyes. They were glossy, stained with tears.

A frown pulled at Hayden’s lips as he moved his other hand to her forehead. “What is it?” Concern deepened his voice.

I sucked in a sharp gasp, realizing Phoebe was sensing the wild crescendo of emotions inside me. Mortified, I backed up and spun around. I headed for the front door. My stomach twisted into knots as I opened the door.

Cool air eased my burning face as I rushed down the steps and across the driveway. Tears filled my throat, threatening to choke me, but I refused to let them fall. I shoved my hand into the pocket of my jeans, squeezing the coin until it bit into my flesh through the gloves.