Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,10
pageant queen, and she’s a freaking Anderson. What the hell kind of problems could Laken really have?
I twist a smile. It’s more than a little delicious hearing her thoughts—anybody’s thoughts—if I touch their skin or vice versa.
“Nothing’s the matter.” I pluck the cherry off its citrus platter. “Everything is just freaking perfect. I’ve got Wes, and all is right with the world.” If I say it enough maybe I’ll believe it. Although, Wes doesn’t believe a single thing I tell him about our stolen lives and Cooper believes every word that sails from my mouth as if it were gospel.
A tray slams down next to me, and we look up to see a gaggle of curls adorning a baby-faced Hattie Tobias.
“Anyone sitting here?” Her voice sounds shallow, too high and clear to be real, like the monotone recording of a doll.
“It’s all yours,” I say, snatching up my backpack.
“Tell Cooper I said hello.” Her dark eyes spark to life as she withholds a smile. She’s taunting me, threating me on some level, and I don’t like it.
“You can tell him yourself,” I say before turning to Carter. “I have to meet up with someone. I’ll catch you in first. Do yourself a favor, and don’t ask Fletch, give him the chance to crawl to you on his knees.” In any reality Fletch is lucky that a girl of Carter’s, blessed by God, caliber would be interested in him.
“Laken?” Hattie calls after me as I make my way to the door.
I look back expecting her to say something, but she doesn’t. Her face begins to morph. Her skin melts down to her neck. Then a display of skeletal matter appears with muscle and tendons, a row of brown teeth, chipped and rotting. Her face morphs back in reverse until Hattie offers a flesh-eating grin, her pearly whites each neatly restored to their false glory.
I don’t bother to hang out and applaud her supernatural efforts—I just bolt the hell out of Austen House.
Wesley usually walks me to class in the morning, but late last night he texted that he had an “Ensign” meeting and would see me at nutrition. That’s the part of Wes I remember from Cider Plains; the kind, caring boyfriend who would lay his coat over a puddle just so I wouldn’t step in it.
That strange sight from breakfast still lingers in my mind as I walk into the English building. I’ve been looking over my shoulder with every third step, in search of a demonic Tobias. I can’t help but feel like she’s watching me, ready to attack from behind like a rattlesnake. I’ve never felt so vulnerable as I have here at Ephemeral. Even Wes has become an enigma. I trust him about as much as a threadbare rope.
The white glossy halls are empty, save for a few people digging into their lockers. Edinger’s door is open so I peer inside before entering. I’ve already determined that “Mr. Edinger” is far from human. Dr. Flanders referred to him as a Fem—some kind of magical morphing demon that can take the shape of a sack of shit if it wanted, and in Mr. Edinger’s case, it very much wanted.
Coop looks up from his book. His entire face beams as I make my way to the desk behind him. We’re both juniors, and we have a couple subjects together. And even though there are a few seniors in my classes, I don’t share a single hour with Wes.
“Morning handsome,” I whisper. Even if it did come out with a hint of sarcasm, it’s undeniably true. Cooper is a testament to the male species with his chiseled features—his eyes the color of a storm on the horizon.
“Morning to you, beautiful.” Those stone grey lenses watch me with a lustful intensity that sends a sizzle over my flesh.
“So, what are you reading?” I ask, slipping my bag under the desk and plucking out a notebook.
“‘I Sing the Body Electric.’”
“Whitman,” I say without skipping a beat. “If you’re looking for something sensual I prefer, Goethe.”
“‘The Dance of the Dead.’” Cooper’s eyes widen as if I had placed him in a trance.
“You’re familiar.” I’d be lying if I said it didn’t fill me with an erotic fever at the thought of Coop being so intimately familiar with poetry.
“My poet speaks of blood.” He grafts his gaze over me like he’s peeling back my skin. Its painful, like he sees me but too much.
I know where’s he’s going with his blood lust. Coop has