Eternal w-3 Page 6

  I wanted to die. Please, let me die. End this. End it now.

  The thoughts were not my own, I realized. And yet . . . and yet the feeling of despair didn’t lessen, didn’t release me from its iron grip.

  A tear slipped down my cheek and onto my lip, tasting salty and bitter. Enough. Please, enough.

  “Violet! C’mon, pull out of it!” someone was shouting into my ear.

  I whimpered, wanting to get away, to never see this awful place again.

  “Violet? C’mon, kiddo. Come back. Damn it, come back!” There it was again, that voice. Angry and scared. I recognized it. Matthew. My Megvéd. My protector.

  “Matthew!” I cried out, my voice hoarse.

  I felt cool fingers against my wrist, pressing against my pulse point. “I’m right here, Violet. You’ve got to pull yourself out of it, okay?”

  I swallowed hard, forcing my heavy eyelids to open. Matthew’s face swam into focus. My friends gathered around him in a protective circle. Cece was crying. So was Sophie, her face pressed into Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler’s other arm was wrapped protectively around Kate, who was chewing on her lower lip.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  “Hey, back,” Matthew said, brushing the damp hair from my cheeks. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “Yeah, what the hell just happened?” Tyler asked.

  “A vision, you moron!” Kate snapped, extricating herself and kneeling down beside me. “You need some water?”

  “No. I mean, yes. Water. But it wasn’t a vision. It was . . .” I shook my head. “God, I don’t know. First it was just pain—heat, like my legs were on fire. And then . . . then I was somewhere else. A dungeon, maybe. But I wasn’t me. Not like in my visions.”

  “Has anything like this ever happened before?” Matthew asked, his face paling.

  “Yeah . . . once before,” I said. “At Patsy’s, before school started. The heat and then later that thing with my shoulders, remember? You made Sophie check it out.” And then, just like that, the most likely explanation dawned on me, stealing away my breath entirely. Oh my God! “I think . . . I’m feeling . . . whatever they’re doing to Aidan,” I choked out.

  “No. I can’t imagine—I mean, I’ve never heard of anything like that before,” Matthew said. “Here, can you sit up?”

  I did, and took the paper cup of water that Kate handed me.

  I knocked it back in one long gulp. “Wow, this was some birthday celebration, huh?”

  “Definitely memorable,” Joshua agreed. “You look better. You know, more color.” He made a sweeping motion with one hand, indicating my face, I suppose.

  With a wince, I ran a hand down my right leg, testing it. I was surprised to find that it felt completely normal. “I swear it felt so real. I really am losing my mind.”

  Matthew shook his head. “There’s got to be a logical explanation. I just don’t know what it is yet, that’s all. Unfortunately, none of this stuff is an exact science. It’s all legend and lore, entirely imprecise and unpredictable.”

  “Spoken like a true science teacher,” Joshua said.

  “Speaking of which, why didn’t you study anthropology or ancient history or something like that?” Cece asked. “Considering . . . I mean . . .” She trailed off, looking embarrassed.

  Matthew reached for my hand and helped me to my feet. “Considering I knew I was a Megvéd, you mean? Part of vampire lore? Yeah, that’s a good question. I guess because I like science—the thrill of discovery. But hey, science might very well help us out in the end. At least, Aidan thought it could. I’m still working on his project. His serum,” he clarified.

  “What do you mean?” Tyler asked.

  “Just that I’m still playing around with the formula. We’d gotten really close; I was sure of it. Aidan was sure of it too. This is the most exciting work I’ve ever done—far beyond my malaria research, and that was considered groundbreaking. Think about what it would mean, the cure. And not just for Aidan.”

  Still feeling dizzy and slightly disoriented, I slid into the chair opposite Matthew’s desk. I tried to wrap my head around what Matthew was saying—tried to imagine what a cure might mean for us as Sâbbat and Megvéd. “But who are you going to test it on?”

  “Aidan left me plenty of tissue and DNA samples to work with. It’s not exactly the same—not a hundred percent accurate—but I should have a good enough idea if I’m getting closer or not.”

  “I’ll help,” Tyler offered. “Just tell me when.”

  Matthew nodded in his direction. “Thanks, Tyler. I appreciate it.”

  Sophie stepped up behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll help, too.”

  “That’s makes two of my best advanced sci students,” Matthew said. “We’ll make a great research team.”

  I was glad that they were going to try—glad that Aidan’s work would continue, even in his absence. Somehow it felt like a tribute of sorts. And maybe if I found him—when I found him—he’d be that much closer to a cure.

  “Here. Have a cupcake,” Matthew said, handing me a purple-frosted one. “You look like you need it.”

  “Thanks.” I took it, suddenly craving the sugar. I ripped off the paper and took a bite, savoring the gooey sweetness. Okay, so it wasn’t a Magnolia Bakery cupcake—my favorite—but it was pretty darn close.

  Tyler sidled up beside me. “You’ve got icing on your nose. Here, I’ll lick it off.” He bent toward me, a cartoonish leer on his face.

  I swatted him away. “Ugh, you’re disgusting,” I said, but I was laughing now. I could always count on Tyler to lighten the mood, to try and make me smile.

  “Hey, I just offered to help cure the boyfriend, remember?”

  I wiped the icing from nose. “Yeah, I remember. Thank you.”

  Everyone was trying to help, each in their own way. Hope surged through me, despite my efforts to quell it. Was it possible, or had we lost him forever? Had I lost him forever?

  I let out a sigh, forcing back the memory of the horrible sensations I’d experienced—the excruciating pain, the overwhelming despair. Somehow, I’d been inside Aidan’s head. I was sure of it. Whatever they were doing to him was bad enough that he wanted to die, hoped to die. And if that was true, well . . .

  Just what would Aidan be like if I did find him?

  8 ~ Exes and Ohhs

  How many weeks had passed since we’d returned to school? Five? Six? I’d lost count. I glanced up at the calendar pinned to the wall above my desk, surprised to see that it was February already. Mid-February, I corrected myself. Almost Valentine’s Day.

  Memories of last year’s Valentine’s Day came flooding back, and I shuddered. That stupid miniature—the one with Aidan’s ex, who happened to look just like me. Isabel. Aidan and I had fought about it, and then I’d skipped the dance that night. Months had passed before I’d been able to forgive him, time that I could never get back.

  “You okay?” Cece asked me, looking up from her laptop with a frown on her face.

  “Yeah, it’s just . . . I’m not looking forward to the weekend, that’s all.” I hated to be such a downer, especially with Cece all excited about going to the dance with Joshua.

  Cece set aside her laptop and hurried over to wrap her arms around me. “Aww, I’m sorry. I know it’s going to be hard for you.”

  I inhaled her familiar scent—coconut shampoo—and felt a little better. “When was the last time you tried?” I asked, unable to stanch my curiosity. “To project to either of them, I mean. Aidan or Mrs. Girard.”

  “Yesterday morning.” Cece released me and perched on the end of my bed facing me. “No luck, but I think I’ve combed just about every square inch of Paris by now. There are a lot of projectors roaming that place, by the way. It’s kind of crazy.”

  I shook my head. “That is so weird. Cool, but weird.”

  “Tell me about it. I wish there was a way to go private. You know, flip some internal switch and go incognito. That way, I
could search the headmistress’s office without having to worry.”

  I stiffened in my seat, fear making my heart race as I glanced out the window. Last week’s storm had dumped nearly a foot of fresh snow on the ground. We were still in the danger zone, as far as my vision went. “You promised me you wouldn’t, Cee. The vision. Remember?”

  “I know.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “But c’mon, you really think they’d expel me?”

  “Yes! How could you possibly explain what you were doing there? It’s not like you could tell Dr. Ackerman the truth. She’d have to expel you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She sighed resignedly. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you request a weekend pass, just to get away? I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you here, but you were just talking about that new temporary exhibit at the museum—you know, that one about vampires and werewolves and zombies. You should go.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said, glancing up at the calendar again. “I think it opened last week. They’ve got a bunch of artifacts and old texts on display—you never know what I might come across.”

  “Exactly. And hey, Sophie was just complaining about all the Valentine’s Day hoopla and saying how she was dreading it too. You should see if she wants to go with you.”

  “You’re a genius,” I said, reaching for my cell. All it took was a quick text conversation, and the plan was set. Sophie’s parents were going out of town for the weekend, so she’d stay with me at Patsy’s. We’d check out the museum exhibit, eat a lot of takeout, and escape the pink hearts and cupid cutouts that would take over campus for a few days. All we needed was Dr. Ackerman’s permission.

  I rose, plugging my phone back into its charger. “Okay, Sophie’s meeting me in the lounge and then we’re walking over to Ackerman’s office together. Want me to get you something from the vending machines?”

  “Yes! Skittles, please. Two bags and I’ll be your friend for life.”

  “Wow, if I’d known you were that easy, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me. “Ha-ha. Now go,” she said, making a shooing gesture in my direction. “You’ll feel much better when this is all settled.”

  “Okay, wish us luck.” We were going to need it, since the administration frowned on last-minute weekend pass requests. Somehow we’d have to couch this as an educational opportunity, highlighting our plan to visit the museum.

  “You got it, girlfriend,” Cece said with a grin.

  I beat Sophie to the lounge. I’d already bought three bags of Skittles—two for Cece, one for me—when she arrived, out of breath and sporting a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead.

  “What’d you do, run? Where were you?”

  “Over at the chem lab,” she huffed and puffed. “With Tyler and Dr. Byrne.”

  “So, you really are doing it? Working on Aidan’s serum?”

  She nodded. “We really are. It’s pretty cool too.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “Right back at you,” she said with a smile, then pointed to the colorful bags I was clutching in one hand. “What’s with all the Skittles?”

  “Cece has a sweet tooth. So, how is it working out with Tyler? I can yell at him if he’s being obnoxious.”

  Oddly enough, Sophie’s cheeks reddened. She bent down, fiddling with her shoelaces. “No, it’s . . . he’s fine.”

  “Um, okay.” I refused to allow myself to read anything into her reaction.

  “Just let me check my mail, and then let’s go,” Sophie said, smoothly changing the subject. “I think Ackerman’s office hours end in fifteen minutes and we don’t want to miss her.”

  I nodded, following Sophie over to the mail cubbies. I almost never checked mine, since I rarely got anything. Except . . . there was a small padded envelope sitting there in my box. Maybe something from Lupe? She’d sent me the delicate silver crucifix necklace last year, which I still wore tucked under my shirt every day—a link to home and to the people I loved there.

  I reached for the envelope, turning it over in my hands. It was addressed to me in an unfamiliar hand, with no return address.

  “What’s that?” Sophie asked, peering over my shoulder.

  “I have no idea. I’m almost afraid to open it.” My hands were shaking, I realized. Something about this felt . . . off.

  The postmark was dated January sixth. Had it really been that long since I’d checked my mailbox?

  Ignoring the feeling of unease, I ripped open the seal and reached inside, pulling out the packet’s contents with a frown. It was a small, cream-colored square card with a key taped to it. Beneath the key, there were four numbers—a security code, maybe?—and a single word scrawled in script. Trevors.

  Aidan’s butler, Trevors, had sent me a key. A key to what?

  “Okay, that’s weird.” Sophie examined it, then lifted her gaze to meet mine. “It looks like a house key, right?”

  “Maybe,” I said, my heart accelerating as I considered the possibilities. A key . . . to a house. Aidan’s house? If so, what did that mean? Was it some sort of sign from Trevors, a hint that maybe Aidan was somehow back in Manhattan? My stomach did a little flip-flop, my mind racing dangerously fast as I processed the thought. Was it possible, or just wishful thinking?

  Only one way to find out, and that meant obtaining the necessary weekend pass.

  “We’ve got to get to Dr. Ackerman’s office,” I said, glancing down at my watch. “Now!”

  * * *

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Sophie asked, her hazel eyes troubled. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a soda in one hand. Our weekend pass had been successfully acquired, and we’d taken the afternoon train into Manhattan and stopped for takeout burgers and fries before heading over to Patsy’s. Now that we were done eating, I was eager to get over to Aidan’s and test the key.

  “I really think I need to do this alone. Whatever I find”—I swallowed hard, imagining the possibilities—“or don’t find, I can handle it.”

  “You’ve got your stake?”

  I pointed to my black messenger bag. “Got it.”

  “Maybe you should call Dr. Byrne.” Sophie was wringing her hands now.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Clearly Trevors wants me to go over there, and I trust him. Patsy’s staying over at Paul’s, so you’ve got the place to yourself. I won’t be gone long. I promise. I’m just going to go check things out.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. “Just . . . text me when you get there. And when you’re on your way back.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  It was a quick, easy walk from Patsy’s to Aidan’s town house, but I took a cab anyway, tipping the driver generously. My heart was banging around in my chest as I stepped out of the cab and made my way up the stairs to the black-lacquered door.

  The snow had mostly melted in the city by now—still, it was obvious that someone had recently shoveled Aidan’s walkway. It was clean and dry, without a trace of the dirty, melting slush that remained on the edges of the sidewalk. That was a good sign, I decided. It hinted at recent occupation.

  I tried the brass lion’s-head knocker first with no response and then paused to search my instincts. Was he here? He had to be, I decided. Why else would Trevors have sent me the key? And yet . . . I didn’t sense his presence. I didn’t sense Trevors’s, either.

  Please let him be here. Please, please, please.

  I repeated the words in my head like a prayer, over and over again as I took the key from my bag and attempted to fit it into the lock. My hands were shaking so badly that it took several tries, but eventually it slid into place.

  Holding my breath, I turned the key and pushed open the door. I was greeted by the high-pitched beeping of a security alarm. I reached blindly for the switch and flipped on the foyer light and stepped inside, quickly punching in the code on the alarm’s keypad, silencing
it. Before I forgot, I retrieved my cell phone from my bag and texted Sophie—I’m here!—then stuffed my cell into my back pocket. My sneakers squeaked noisily against the marble-tiled floor as I took off my coat and hung it on the umbrella stand by the door with my bag, then turned to survey my surroundings.

  The house was eerily silent, the air slightly musty and stale. Drapes were drawn shut, furniture covered by canvas cloths. It was immediately obvious that no one was home. Disappointment washing over me, I moved farther inside, past the staircase into the living room, then the dining room, flipping on lights as I went. I continued my trek through the kitchen, the TV room, down the hallway that led back to the foyer and the curving marble stairs illuminated by an enormous crystal chandelier.

  One hand trailing along the mahogany banister, I made my way up the stairs, my footfalls echoing loudly in the heavy silence. There were only two bedrooms on the second floor—the enormous master suite and the “rose room,” aptly named for its decor. I entered the rose room first, allowing the memories to rush back. I’d stayed here once, slept in the big antique bed hung with pale pink drapes. It seemed like forever ago—a different lifetime. That night, I’d thought that learning Aidan was a vampire was the craziest, most outlandish truth I’d ever encounter. How wrong I’d been.

  I scanned the room—it looked pristine, untouched. Bed, dresser, washstand, all exactly as I’d remembered it, all accented with rosebuds and cream-colored lace. The door on the far side of the room led to the attached bath; the door on my right opened directly into Aidan’s bedroom. I walked toward it hesitantly, heart pounding and palms dampening.

  The rational part of my mind warned me that, just like the rest of the house, the room was empty, that Aidan wasn’t here. If he were, I would have felt his presence by now, heard his voice in my head. And yet . . . I couldn’t help but hope, couldn’t help but imagine him there on the other side of door, waiting for me.