Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,63

core in less than ten minutes of her second untimely demise. Speaking of which, I need to get her out of the morgue.”

“What the hell for?” The whites of his eyes expand as if I suggested we eat her for dinner.

“There’s no one to claim the body, genius.”

“And stealing a corpse is going to help the situation, how?”

A faint buzzing emits to our left—probably birds—a hornet’s nest. Who the hell knows.

Flynn nods. “Every time I hear a noise out here, it spooks me, too.”

The fog swirls around our feet. It fills itself between the tree trunks and branches, washing out the landscape in an oily haze.

A girl’s voice pitches through the dull hum every now and again, then a distinctly male voice drones on with a sense of urgency. It’s not Laken. I’d know her a mile away.

“I know who that is,” Flynn whispers as we make our way as stealth as possible in their direction.

“Which one?”

“The female.”

Of course, it’s the female. Flynn’s got sonar for every chick in the western hemisphere.

A rustle of leaves—the sound of footsteps heading in this direction magnifies with the steady crush of pine needles over the forest floor.

“Remember what I told you.” The male says it stern, yet with the false air of tenderness. “This is a simple assignment. If you keep up the good work, you might just get what you’re after.”

“And if I don’t?” Her voice quivers. She sounds frightened, haunted.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says it low, just this side of a growl. “You know what happens if you don’t.”

The footsteps increase in sound and volume right behind the overgrown hedge in front of us.

Shit.

A dark shadow emerges, as Flynn and I exchange glances.

“What have we got here?” Mr. Edinger pulls his lips in a smug line. He’s cloaked in a long wool coat that hangs like a dress, and his feet stand at ease. “Are you two looking for something? These woods are off limits to students as I was just explaining to Ms. Tobias.”

Hattie appears from behind him, looking embarrassed, not at all like her morbidly-dry self. Her posture straightens as if leaping into character. She clears her throat.

“Flynn, why don’t you escort Ms. Tobias back to her dormitory,” he says, squeezing himself into a pair of black leather gloves. “You’re lucky I happened to see you entering these woods, young lady. It’s a maze out here. One could easily get themselves killed.” He glances up at me when he says that last part.

Flynn and Hattie make a beeline out of here as if the forest were about to combust—not that it hasn’t happened before.

I turn to follow them out.

“Mr. Flanders.” Edinger takes a step forward with that perennial sarcastic smile hedging on his lips. “What was it that you and Mr. Masterson were looking for?”

Daylight defuses behind him and gives the illusion the evergreens are about to spear him with their daggers. Edinger stands against the woods like a shadow as tall and wide as a door.

“Who said we were looking for anything? Just taking a late afternoon hike. Must have gone off the trail. Didn’t even notice the trees sprouting up around us.” I say it slow and measured as I gauge him.

“Temperatures will be dipping into the thirties. Make sure you dress warm.” He expands his lips even further until it looks as if he’s strained out a smile.

I doubt he kept me behind to talk about the weather.

I turn to head back.

“Keep out of the woods, Mr. Flanders,” he calls after me. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

There it is, the not so veiled threat I felt coming on like a cold. I glance back. He hasn’t moved an inch. His body looks as if he’s dissolving into the haze. Edinger steps backward until the fog envelops him completely, nothing but his wicked grin visible for me to see—and then that too vanishes like smoke.

I speed over to where he was standing with my heart trying to jam its way out of my throat.

He’s gone.

“So why is it that big of a deal that Edinger popped out of existence?” Laken bites down on her lip, and it springs back, luscious and full, ripe as a cherry.

The scent of fried tortilla chips fills the air and suddenly a smell I thought I had grown immune to has the power to intoxicate me. Maria’s Mexican Restaurant looks different with Laken standing in it—more regal, less of the roach trap it really is.

I glance over her