Cursed (22 page)

Like a spy or something.

I’d patiently sit through three of my morning classes before skipping out. Waiting any longer would be risky. I ended up getting to school way too early. The corridors were unusually silent, and my footsteps echoed down the hall. As I made my way toward my locker, I couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out. I half-expected the lights overhead to flicker out and a gruesome one-handed, one-toothed janitor to jump out at me.

I didn’t feel so badass then.

I shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the image and focused on my locker. Even though I knew there wouldn’t be anything in it, the locker still filled me with unease. Phoebe had officially traumatized me when it came to lockers.

Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and unlocked it. A couple of heartbeats went by, then maybe a minute, and I pried one eye open. It was, of course, empty.

By the end of English, I started to feel queasy and my temples felt like they were about to explode from the pressure in my head. My nerves were getting to me and I knew I was going to chicken out if I waited as long as I’d planned. When the bell rang at the end of second period, I gathered my stuff up in a rush and hurried from the classroom.

I stopped at the front doors. Fat raindrops splattered against the pavement. My hair was about five seconds from turning into a giant frizzball. Chewing on my lip, I glanced over my shoulder and about fell over.

Mr. Theo stood by the entrance of the admin offices, chatting with another teacher. If he turned his head, I was so busted. Then he did look up, right at me. I started to back away from the door, but he raised a brow and smiled, then turned away.

I couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t stand here any longer. I pushed open the doors just as the skies ripped open and sleety rain poured. It felt cold enough to snow.

Navigating the rain-slick streets with bald tires proved harder than I remembered, but around forty minutes later, I parked the Jeep in front of the Cromwell mansion.

Soaked to the bone, I went in through the garage and made sure all the cars were gone. Then I shrugged off my wet sweater and hung it on the back of a chair in the kitchen. Even my thin shirt underneath was damp, but I didn’t have time to waste changing.

From there, I half-ran, half-slipped over the hardwood floors. Statues and paintings seemed to watch me as I entered the right wing. I came to a halt outside Cromwell’s study and sucked in air. There was a chance the door would be locked—if so, a waste of a good hair day.

A little nagging voice whispered in my head that what I was about to do was wrong. I’d be prying around in other people’s personal business, but my reasons for doing so were far more important than a silly little thing like privacy. Right?

I reached into my pocket and ran my fingers over the coin. This was supposed to be for good luck. Well, I needed some luck now. I pushed on the door. It creaked open and a blast of frigid air hit me.

Clamping down on the voice that screamed moral outrage, I headed for the glossy oak desk. Geez, my conscience acted like I planned on doing something terrible. Where was that voice when I cheated on tests and at computer games?

Not the same thing, I guessed.

I yanked open one drawer. No keys. I moved to the second, third, and finally, the middle drawer. The key ring gleamed up at me. I grabbed them and whirled around.

The keys felt strangely heavy in my hand. After several false starts, I found the right one and yanked open the drawer in the credenza. I hesitated a moment; the little voice was back again, whispering I might not like what I found.

I ignored it and grabbed Kurt’s file first, having no idea what to expect.

The first pages consisted of basic information: birthdate, hometown address, and a brief outline of his gifts. From what I read, he had extensive abilities in the mind-wiping field, able to remove certain memories while leaving others intact. Adam had been a perfect example of that. He’d remembered everything—except me. But Hayden had said whoever had done the sweep on Mom hadn’t done it right. Looking at the file on Kurt, I doubted he’d mess up so badly. I assumed whoever was behind the car crash would’ve also wanted Mom to believe Olivia had died, too.

Pushing the hair out of my face, I flipped to the second page. Bingo.

It wasn’t a criminal record—not a formal one, at least, but Kurt had quite the history in his younger days: B and E, robbery, and assault. All before the age of twenty-one, which I didn’t think was such a big deal—people change. But the psych eval on the third page caught my eye.

Kurt was described as exhibiting malignant narcissistic personality traits paired with antisocial and paranoid tendencies from onset “G.” I assumed that “G” stood for “Gifted.” I didn’t need a degree in psychology to know some of the words didn’t bring the warm and fuzzies, but nothing pointed to him being a full-out psycho-killer.

Disappointed, I shoved his file back in and picked up Parker’s. As I read through his stuff, I began to wonder why Cromwell even had files on them. Why did he keep this information? Cromwell was a mayor, not a psychologist, and stuff like this belonged in a clinical setting.

Parker’s personal information didn’t come as a surprise. Cromwell commented on his inability to block out other’s thoughts, which led to antisocial traits. Phoebe’s had the same stuff about controlling the empath in her, and there was a recent note about her reaction toward me and a treatment guide outlining blocking techniques that Cromwell wanted to work on.

Gabriel’s file didn’t mention much of anything.

Olivia’s included a bio with all the normal stuff: our parents’ names and whatnot, but just one word about her gift: “Miraculous.” I stared at it for a while, and then I shoved it back inside and moved to grab mine.

But I saw another file labeled “T.G.” and nothing else. Curious, I grabbed that one and cracked it open. The first page had been blacked out the same way I imagined they did with classified papers. I flipped to the second page, then the next.
Everything
had been blacked out. Frowning, I put it back it the drawer and pulled my file out.

I prepared myself for the worst, figuring I’d see things like “bad-mannered” and “ill-tempered” as character traits. So I was surprised when I found nothing on the first page. Not a damn thing—no bio, no birthdate, just the date Hayden and Kurt had shown up at my house, the day they’d relocated me. Weirded out by that, I turned over the page, already cringing at what I would see. And God, did I want to go find Cromwell, rip off my glove, and choke-slam him.

I didn’t even have a freaking name. The sporadic notes referred to me as “Project E.”

Project E has an unstable gift. The ability to disable and even kill with a touch proves to be reminiscent of Project J. Project E is also a candidate for the Assimilation Program. At current time, there has been no evidence that her gift can be controlled. Caution must be exercised
.

My fingers curled around the paper until I heard the pages crumple. Assimilation? For me? He could assimilate my foot up his ass. And when did he start believing I had a gift? If I remembered correctly, the last thing he’d called it was
unnatural and wrong
.

I slammed my file back down, and because I couldn’t help myself, and because I was mad and confused, I picked up Hayden’s file. I sat down and cracked it open. Immediately, my eyes scanned down the page. Just like Kurt and the rest, there was a full bio and I knew the good stuff would be on the second and third pages.

Don’t do it
.

But I wanted to do it and I needed something to distract me from my desire to burn down Cromwell’s office. There was a lot about Hayden’s gift that I hadn’t known. Being an enerpath, he could manipulate almost any form of energy: use air to crush a house, create fire out of the electricity in the air, and even move the ground like a mini-earthquake. It was all pretty amazing… and frightening. I flipped the next page over and flinched.

Once, twice, three times—that was how many times I read it before my brain accepted the words written there. “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

Hayden hadn’t been removed from his parents’ home because they’d been afraid of him, but I could understand the lie. The truth would hurt too much—provoke too many questions, too many memories.

He’d just been a kid—God, only five. Way too young.

And he’d killed his entire family.

Chapter 26

A
n old newspaper clipping, dulled to faint yellow, had been shoved between page two and three, detailing the horrifying events without a trace of the heavy emotion involved.

The house had burned. It’d started in an upstairs bedroom, spreading downstairs and engulfing the entire home. There had been only one survivor—Hayden.

I wiped under my eyes with the back of my hand and started to close the file. But toward the end of the page, I stopped. The times Hayden struggled for control flashed before me. The day Kurt had pushed me, and when I’d found the car in my locker and the trashcan had exploded. The times we’d argued and I smelled the distinct odor of smoke—like the smell of ozone burning—not fire. Had that been one of the reasons he’d backed off from me? Maybe it hadn’t just been my suspicions. Maybe he feared losing control again because of me, like both Parker and Kurt had warned me.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and closed the file. Sorrow burned through me. I couldn’t even begin to understand what he’d gone through—was still going through. My heart felt like it would rip open. The guilt I carried with me over Dustin’s death was nothing compared to what he must feel.

After reading about Hayden, I didn’t care what Cromwell thought about me or the Assimilation program. If anything, it gave me more reason to figure out a way to control whatever it was I had. I’d always thought I had it bad—that what’d happened to me was the worst thing ever. Now I knew that wasn’t the case.

God, I felt like a douche.

Leaning forward, I put Hayden’s file back and started to close the drawer when I saw another file labeled only with initials: “J. G.” I pulled it out and flipped it open. There was a picture of a girl about my age, but the photo looked old and grainy.

Whoever she was, she’d been a pretty girl with long brown hair and glasses resting on the tip of her nose, but the photo also captured an intense, frightened look in her eyes. Now even more curious, I shuffled through the file, stopping on a paper with notes written in Cromwell’s hand. Most of it, like the chick’s full name and any info that would reveal her identity, had been blacked out like in the other file. There was still enough left for me to read, and what I learned shocked and confused the hell out of me.

Cromwell had really, really lied to me.

This girl had been a part of the Assimilation program, which had turned out to be a complete failure. She’d been unable to control her gift and had committed suicide at the Facility.

She’d only been sixteen, and she’d been able to kill with a touch.

I closed her file, hands shaking. I really didn’t know how to process that. Someone else had been gifted like me? She’d killed herself because she couldn’t control it? I started to put her file back, but a cluster of papers slipped out and fell into my lap.

Just like with Hayden’s file, I didn’t really believe what I saw at first. But then, like everything else, it sank in slowly. Dizziness and nausea rushed through me. I dropped the file.

Newspapers clippings about Dad and his work at the hospital before the accident, articles I couldn’t bear to read after he’d died. A schedule was attached to the clipping—my sophomore year class schedule. But that wasn’t all; there were directions to my house, to Dad’s hospital, and…
Oh, my God
.

Attached to the newspaper clippings was a menu to Salt of the Sea, the restaurant I’d insisted on the night of the accident. Scribbled on it were several dates—the last of them, the date of the accident, was circled. Realization crept over me like cold fingers tracing down my spine. The papers slipped from my fingers.

Static filled my ears. For several long minutes, I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe as my world fell out from underneath me.

No, no, no
.

The handwriting—all of the stuff written—looked like Hayden’s scribble. He’d been watching way before he’d admitted—he had written the schedule, the directions, the date of the accident. It hadn’t been just Kurt or Cromwell. It’d been the three of them, maybe all of them.

Time seemed to stop, and then I sprang forward and gathered up the papers. My breath came out in short, little gasps. I needed to get out of here—get Mom, find Olivia. The buzzing in my ears made it hard to think, but all I knew—

“What are you doing?”

I shrieked, jumping to my feet and spinning around.

Hayden stood in the entrance of the study. Little streams of rain dripped from his hair, traveling down the side of his face. The ends of his hair curled around his temples and cheeks.

“Ember?”

My heart pounded so fast I swore my shirt fluttered.

“What are you doing in my father’s office?” He took one step into the room, then another. “Why did you leave school?”

I eyed the door behind him and tried to nudge the drawer shut. It wouldn’t budge. “I… I’m not doing anything.”

“Call me crazy, but I don’t believe you.” His gaze dropped over me, then behind me. His eyes narrowed. “You went through my father’s files?”

“N—no,” I stammered.

His eyes flicked up and bore into mine. “You went through our files, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer, because really, what could I say at that point? So I stepped to the side, gauging the distance between the door and Hayden. I doubted I’d get past him.

“I wish you hadn’t done that.” There was controlled anger in his face, but there was also disappointment.

I needed time. I needed to ignore the way my heart was cracking open. The way I wanted to sit down and cry, because none of that would help. “Why does he even have files on all of us? Is that something normal? Is that what people do?”

“Do people skip school to snoop through stuff that isn’t theirs?” The coldness in his voice shocked me. Nothing reminded me of the boy from last night, the one who’d held me and kissed me like he… loved me the way I loved him.

I stepped back.

“Ember, what’s behind your back?”

I shook my head. Hayden stepped forward and I made my move. I don’t even know why I tried. I made a leaping run for the door, but Hayden caught me by the waist and hauled me back. “Let go of me!”

Capturing my wrists, he backed me against the wall and pinned me there, our bodies flush. The papers—the evidence—fluttered to the floor once more. “Not until you hear me out.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!” I struggled not to let the tears fall, but they kept building and building. The sense of betrayal, the hurt, cut so deep I couldn’t breathe. “How could you?”

“Listen to me.” He pressed forward and dropped his head. “I could never hurt you. Don’t you understand that?”

I clamped my lips together and turned my head. He
had
hurt me. He’d ripped me apart.

“Em—”

“How could you?” I whispered. “How could you do that?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It was an accident, Em. I didn’t understand what was happening—”

I pushed off the wall, but he pushed back.

“Listen to me, Ember. I couldn’t hurt you. I can’t.” Hayden settled his eyes on me. They were softer than I’d ever seen. “I love you—I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.” I froze. Only my chest moved as I dragged in heavy gulps of air.

“I’d convinced myself for the longest time that concern drove me to keep checking in on you. Each time I left Allentown, I told myself I wasn’t coming back. But I did. I couldn’t stay away. For two years I kept coming back. I had to make sure you were okay.” Hayden’s eyes drifted shut. “Dealing with your sister and your mom all alone, but you were so strong and so determined to make it. And the day—the day you went to the bank, I wanted so badly to talk to you—to hold you.”

My heart felt like it was breaking and swelling all at once. It left me reeling.

“I know—
I know
how crazy it sounds, but it’s like I came to know you. I knew you sketched when you were upset. I saw how much you loved your sister. How brave you were to keep going to that damn school. And all those times I watched you, I grew to know every one of your fake smiles. I never even heard you laugh. All I’ve ever wanted to do is help you, because maybe then, you’d smile once and really mean it.”

I shook my head, willing him to stop—
just stop
.

“I thought being around you would make it easier, but once I got to know you, really know you? I thought I’d loved you
before
.” He pressed his lips together, but he never looked away. Not once. “I had no clue. Everyone knows. My father wanted me to stay away from you, because he knew how I felt. And Kurt thinks my judgment is skewed—that I’ll lose control again.”

Had I misread the conversation I’d heard between Kurt and Liz? I’d assumed Kurt had been talking about Cromwell, but he only mentioned his name when I stopped listening. Did it matter?

“But I realized I’d never lose control, because of you—because I love you. That’s what I was trying to tell you last night, Ember. I love you.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, pleaded really. “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true. It’s always been true.” His fingers flexed around my wrists, inching the sleeve down and exposing my skin.

“Hayden—”

“I’ve killed,” he said, his face constricting. “You have to know the truth, Em.”

I let out a sob. It had been him, always him.

“You can hate me forever, but it won’t change how I feel.”

His mouth came down on mine so hard, it stopped whatever I was about to say. This—this was so wrong, but when he released my wrists, I didn’t touch him like I should have. A speck of illogical trust flared alive in me. I grabbed a fistful of his wet sweater and pulled him to me.

Hayden made a low sound in his throat before his lips suddenly found mine again. His hands slipped to my hips, under my shirt. Desperately, the smart part in my brain screamed that this was wrong, but I pushed myself closer instead of away.

Then, when I thought I’d seriously lost my mind, his fingers brushed over the scar above my navel. It was a like a bucket of ice water thrown on me. I pushed—pushed hard.

“No—stop. I can’t do this.”

Hayden was breathing heavily. Although he didn’t look like he wanted to, he let go and stepped back. “Em—”

“Don’t. I can’t do this!” I screamed, surprised by how pathetic I sounded. “You can’t love me. Do you know how twisted this sounds?”

He looked like I had physically wounded him, but it was nothing compared to what I felt.

“You need to let me leave here, Hayden. Please.”

Hayden shook his head. “You have to let me explain—”

“Explain what?” I cried. “You killed my father—you killed me, for chrissake!”

“
What
?” he gasped.

“I saw the papers, Hayden! I saw them. And you’ve basically admitted to it.”

His brows furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never admitted to causing that accident because I didn’t! How could you even think that?”

God, he sounded so honest, so genuine, like the words were tearing him apart. But the evidence—the evidence was right on the floor.

I dropped to my knees and grabbed for the menu, planning to shove it his face. “This is the menu to… to—I don’t understand.” I turned the menu over.

“It’s a menu to the Smoke Hole diner. And no, I don’t know how it got there.”

“No, no, no. This wasn’t a menu to the diner!” I flipped it back and forth. “This is—was a menu to Salt of the Sea.”

“Obviously, it’s not, Ember.”

I looked up, shaking my head. Hayden’s arms were folded across his chest and he looked angry. “No. There were dates written across the menu! The date of the accident was circled. It was in your handwriting! There were newspaper articles about my Dad, my school schedule—” I made a grab for them, only to find out that they, too, weren’t what I’d previously seen.

The article clippings were of Cromwell’s election. The schedule was council meetings. The directions were to Morgantown. “I don’t understand. This isn’t what I saw!”

“I didn’t touch those papers.”

“I know—I know you didn’t.” I dropped them and sat back. Hayden hadn’t been talking about the car crash when he’d said he’d killed people. Oh, God. He’d been talking about the fire and… and I’d yelled at him—demanded how he could’ve done that.

“Ember, what’s going on with you? Dammit, was this why you wanted to drive to school by yourself today? So you could sneak through our stuff?”

I dropped my head into my hands. None of this made sense. I know what I saw and yet, it wasn’t there.

“And still after everything, you don’t trust me. You really think that I would have ever hurt you or your family? That I could have done something like that?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Wait. What am I saying? You read my file. You know why I was in foster care. So yeah, I guess you’d think I’d murdered your father, too.”

“No.” I moved my hands away from my face. “You didn’t murder your parents. It was an accident. You didn’t know how to control your gift. You’re not a killer, Hayden.”

He stared down at me silently.

“I… I think I’m losing my mind. I really am.”

The anger faded from his face, replaced by concern. He crouched and gently grasped my shoulders. “Ember, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know what I saw, but it isn’t there anymore. I’m sorry—I’m sorry about what happened to your family. It’s not your fault.”

“Forget about that. Are you feeling okay?”

I laughed, because honestly, I felt funny. My brain was processing everything wrong. I was far from being okay. Either my mind had played a horrible trick on me or I was crazy.

“Em?” He ran his fingers over my cheek. Just a simple, gentle touch and it pierced my heart. How could he ever forgive me for this? “Em, you don’t look so good.”

“I have a headache.” In fact, I’d had a headache ever since English class. “I want to leave. Can we just leave?”

Hayden stared a moment, then nodded. We stopped long enough to change into dry clothes before climbing into his SUV. He leaned forward, running his arm over the fogged windshield. “Em, did you feel anything strange before you looked at those papers?”