Dead River - By Cyn Balog Page 0,52
flings her hair over her shoulder and walks away until all I can see is her white dress, glowing in the pale blue light of the moon.
Jack comes toward me, and my heart starts thrumming as he does. He grins like he knows what he’s doing to me. Like he relishes me going crazy for him. He touches my chin. His finger is surprisingly warm, and with that simple touch he sends electric shocks through my body. I know I’m quivering from head to toe. I know it’s visible. My cheeks redden even more.
He sits down on the grass, cross-legged. “You’re afraid of me?”
When my mouth opens, my teeth are chattering. I’m not afraid of him, but I know I should be. And that’s what I’m afraid of. “Trey,” I whisper. “He says you’ll hurt me.”
He leans forward. “I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to.”
I stare at him.
He grins. “I’m joking. I am not out to hurt you.”
“Why were you practically dragging me across the river this morning, then?”
“I was only helping. You’re being lured to the water. You wanted to go across, but you’re afraid. And you needn’t be. Once you’re over there, you’ll see.”
I eye him suspiciously. “You didn’t have to drag me. Anyway, I thought it’s Trey’s job to take me across. Not yours.”
He laughs. “And I’m not allowed to help the kingdom out?”
“You almost killed me,” I mutter.
His face is grave, regretful. “Do not say that. I am not some kind of monster. Trey has good reason to hate me, though, I suppose. He’s thinking of something that happened a long time ago.”
“What happened a long time ago?”
“You’ve heard how he died, yes?” he asks. “Your friends told those horribly inaccurate ghost stories around the campfire a few nights ago. Were you listening?”
“How could I not? And I saw it, as it was happening. I saw him fall into the water. I saw him drown.”
“Ah. Your powers allow you to see those things.” He presses his lips together. “You didn’t see who killed him, though.”
“No, I couldn’t see that. Two boys killed him, I think.”
“Or so the story goes,” he says with a shrug. “But the truth is, Trey was killed by only one person. And you’re looking at him.”
Chapter Eighteen
My mind whirls with all the visions I’ve seen and fragments of the story Justin told. The blade slashing at Trey’s arm. The cold water bubbling over his head. The desperate attempt to break the surface, to breathe. That’s the one. Get him. “No. No,” I say, “There were two. Someone told someone … to get—”
“I don’t know what your visions are, but I assure you, I was there. I was the only one there.”
I pull my knees to my chest and press myself against the tree trunk, as far away from him as I can get without leaving my position. “Trey was killed because he turned in a murderer. He saw a murder. Who else did you—”
He grabs my hand, immediately sending a chill up to my elbow. Only when my hand is in his do I realize how violently it has been shaking. He looks into my eyes and I feel dizzy and breathless from the weight of his stare. “I am not a monster. I do not like to talk about my time among the living. I squandered it. I made mistakes. Mistakes I wish I could undo. But I can’t.”
For some reason, I think of Justin. He’d said kissing Angela was a mistake, too. Back then, I didn’t want to, couldn’t believe that mistakes were possible. But though Jack’s sin is so much more damnable, looking into his eyes, I am surprised at how easily I’d be willing to believe he has changed. “But you’ve changed?” I whisper, hoping that the answer is yes.
He doesn’t have to say a thing. I’m his servant. As this thought flickers in my mind, it brings a moment of clarity. Servant! What am I doing? What is wrong with— But by then he is so near that I can feel the curve of his body pressing against mine, so cold that even though we are separated by clothing, his skin sears my flesh. He holds up my hand and presses his palm flat against mine, and all I can do is marvel at how perfectly and seamlessly they seem to go together. His face is so near to me that his breathing tickles my chin. “Sometimes we get caught in a whirlpool. No matter