So much for a ride on the welcome wagon.
2. DEAD MAN WALKING
The full moon was hanging low and bright in the distance when we pulled into the back of All Saints. Already I was confused as to why we were parking by the dumpsters instead of using the front parking lot like civilized people. And by civilized people, I meant literally everyone else.
“Well, this doesn’t look sketchy at all,” I mused as I crossed my arms and stared forward into nothingness. “Mind telling me what the hell we’re doing here?”
“A little patience please, angel.” He turned off the ignition and stared toward the back exit of All Saints as though he were expecting some creature to come barreling through the doors.
“I happen to be fresh out of patience for the day,” I said, scowling at him. “Or did you forget that I just spent the last six hours in a car with my sister to get here?”
“Of course not,” he answered, still not meeting my eyes. Still fixated on the damn back door. “Just give it a few minutes please.”
“A few minutes for what?” I looked at him, then the door and then back again. “I swear to god, Dominic, you have like five seconds to tell me what we’re doing here or I’m getting out of this car and I’m walking home!”
He looked at me like I was a thorn in his ass. Heck, at this point, the feeling was mutual.
“You’ve refused to have this conversation for so long that I no longer know how to have it,” he said somberly and then starred forward again. “So, I’m going to show you instead.”
“Show me? Show me what?” I asked as I quickly scanned the empty area again, though truth be told, I was mildly intrigued now. This was obviously a big deal to him, and Dominic rarely ever made a fuss about anything.
“That,” he answered evenly as he rose his chin in the direction of the back-exit door of All Saints.
I followed his gaze and immediately froze as all the blood drained from my face.
All. The. Blood.
Everything inside of me came to a screeching halt as my gaze landed on Trace Macarthur.
Trace—as in my recently deceased boyfriend—idly carrying four black garbage bags to the dumpster. I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again, knowing that if I just adjusted my line of vision, the hallucination would go away…because this was obviously a hallucination.
Only it didn’t go away.
“What the fuck is this?” I snapped, dizzy and breathless from a torrent of emotions I couldn’t even begin to rein in. Everything inside of me was spinning out of control.
“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last two weeks,” answered Dominic, his tone entirely too calm for the horror show unfolding before my eyes.
Panic slammed into me as my mind made the only association that made sense. “Lucifer,” I hissed, my pulse banging inside my ears as the air left my lungs in a swoosh. My chest heaved up and down, unable to catch a single breath as I began hyperventilating in Dominic’s car.
“It’s not Lucifer,” he said and then placed his hand on me knee to calm me. I immediately clutched onto it, my fingernails digging into his flesh. “Take a deep breath,” he commanded, and I did.
It’s not Lucifer, I told myself over and over again as I watched the breathtakingly beautiful boy toss the garbage bags into the dumpster. But if it wasn’t Lucifer, then who the hell was it?
“I don’t…understand. Is that…I mean…is he…?” I couldn’t even put a sentence together. None of this made a lick of sense. If he wasn’t a hallucination and it wasn’t Lucifer, then this was obviously some kind of trick—an imposture or demon that had the ability to shapeshift into human form, though I had no idea if that was even a possibility.
Needing to get a better look, I bailed on my failing words and threw the passenger door open. With my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my mouth, I stepped out of the car onto shaky legs.
Bracing myself against the car door, my eyes remained fixed on Trace, refusing to even blink out of fear that he might disappear if I did. I took a step away from the door and accidently kicked an empty soda can laying on the ground.
Trace’s eyes snapped in my direction at the noise. His eyes immediately found me in the shadows and then stayed there as I stared back at him from across the way. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, my heart slammed into my chest as I watched his gaze drift down the length of my body and then come back up the other way.
There appeared to be interest in his eyes, like I’d caught his attention, but I saw no sign of recognition in them. My heart cliff-dived into my stomach as I realized he had no idea who I was.
Of course, he didn’t!
Because he wasn’t Trace.
Trace was dead.
“You lost or something?” he asked after a short pause of silence. His baritone voice sent a wave of shivers over every inch of my skin followed by a full force punch to the stomach.
“Excuse me?” I blinked my disbelief at him, certain I’d heard him wrong. Frankly, my ears were ringing so loudly, I could barely hear myself speak let alone him.
He furrowed his brows and then took a small step in my general direction. “I said, are you lost or something?” His tone was a little softer now, as though he were speaking to some frightened child who had lost their way home.
My lips parted to respond, but nothing came out. What the heck was I supposed to say to that? To him? To any of this? He was acting as though he had no idea who I was, like I was a complete stranger to him…which I obviously was since he was so very obviously a demon imposter and not Trace!
Trace is dead.
Trace is dead.
Trace is dead!
I latched onto that truth as it replayed in my head like a mantra, and then I steeled myself.
“No, I’m not lost. But you definitely look like you might be,” I shot back, the accusatory tone firmly latched onto my words. I don’t know who he thought he was parading around in Trace’s body, but he was going to be very sorry very soon.
I slipped my hand into the inside pocket of my leather jacket and grabbed a hold of my hunting knife. Whoever this demon was, he’d picked the wrong day and the wrong body to occupy.
With my fingers firmly latched around my weapon, I moved in a little closer, waiting for that familiar, stomach churning feeling that would warn me when I was in the presence of a demon or vampire.
Only that feeling never came…
What the— Either he wasn’t a demon, or I was losing my mojo.
“Well, I own this place,” he said as he took another small step toward me, and then another, “so no.” His eyes were all over me, categorizing every one of my features as though he were seeing me for the first time. “I’m Trace.”
My heart sank at his introduction. If he wasn’t a demon, then he had to be an Alt—Trace from a different Timeline.
But then why didn’t he know me? And what the hell was he doing here, carrying out garbage like it was just another ordinary Sunday.
“And you are…?” he asked, tilting his head to the side when I didn’t respond to his introduction.
“Really confused.” Releasing the knife handle, I took a few more steps toward him, studying his reaction as I lessened the space between us. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
He narrowed his eyes as though trying to locate me in his memory bank. After a moment, he slowly shook his head as though coming up empty and asked, “Should I?”
“I’m not sure.” I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
He paused again as if to assess me; to get a better read on me. “You’re kind of…strange,” he finally said, his eyes narrowing and glittering as the curiosity continued to grow in them.
Strange didn’t begin to cover what I was. I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on. Had I entered some alternate reality where Trace was still alive and well or was this a different Trace altogether—an Alt from another Timeline? Or worst…some kind of zombie-slash-demon-imp
oster using dark magic to mask his aura?
Again: no idea if that was even a thing.
The only thing I knew for sure was that he had no idea who I was, and at this point, I didn’t have the faintest clue who he was either. But I was willing to bet my life that that if anyone knew what the hell was going on here, it was undoubtably the one and only Nikki Freaking Parker.
Without saying another word to Trace, or whoever the hell he was, I spun on my heel and made a beeline for All Saints. Because I already knew as sure as the sun would set in the east that wherever Trace was, Nikki was never far behind.
3. NO GOOD DEED
All Saints was packed to the absolute brim with partygoers and bar patrons alike. So much so that I had to elbow my way through the crowd just to make it through the front door. I couldn’t say that I was surprised being that it was the last day of summer break, and one of the only decent places to go on a Sunday night. Still, I could help but feel irritated, as though all the bodies were running interference on my quest to find Hollow Hills most notorious witch.
“Would you mind telling me what we’re doing here, angel?” asked Dominic as he shoved his way through the packed bar right alongside me, but I barely heard his question.
He should know me better than that by now.
“Where the hell is she?” I hissed, agitated as I scanned the room.
“Where is who?” He snagged my elbow and spun me around to face him.
I let out an exasperated breath. “Who do you think, Dominic? Nikki!” My eyes skirted over his shoulder, and just as I’d expected, I spotted her at the back of the room, sitting at a table with Morgan, Carly, and Caleb and a round of drinks spread around their table.
“Perhaps you ought to take some time to let this all sink in, angel.” He looked concerned for my welfare. Or possibly my mental health. I couldn’t really tell anymore, nor did it matter.
“Trust me, it’s already sunk in,” I said and shoved Dominic out of my way. Okay, so it hadn’t exactly sunk in being that I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from confronting my number one suspect. I didn’t need time. I needed answers!
Nikki’s gaze lifted as I stormed towards her table. Her red lips were pulled into a grin, but it quickly dropped off as soon as she met my eyes. Frankly, there was a good chance there were actual flames shooting out of my head, so I couldn’t really blame her for being alarmed.
Never one to let her weakness show, Nikki quickly squared her shoulders. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she sang over the music, sneering at me as though zombie-Trace wasn’t roaming around the dumpster out back.
“What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do?!” I growled, splaying my palms against the table and leaning down over her like a looming hurricane that was about to dismantle her life.
“Whatever do you mean?” she answered, feigning innocence as she batted her eyelashes at me.
It was the wrong damn time to play with me.
I balled my hand into a fist and cranked my arm back, ready to smear that red lipstick all over her face. Unfortunately, Dominic stepped in me behind me and held my fist back before I could fire it off.
“Oh my god, relax, you psycho!” screeched Nikki as she scooted back into Morgan. “I was kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes, Nikki? No, seriously. DO I?” I yelled, leaning closer so she could see the fifty shades of crazy in my eyes. “What the hell did you do? And don’t even try to pretend you weren’t involved because this has your name written all over it,” I said, swinging my arm through the air as if she was solely responsible for all the evils of the world.
She raised her finger in the air and made a circular gesture. As if on cue, the music suddenly died around us. Everyone else in the bar continued dancing, their mouths still moving from conversations, but we no longer heard a sound of it. It was as though she’d placed us in some kind of soundproof bubble.
“There. That’s better.” She looked mighty pleased with herself. She fluttered her false eyelashes at me once again and then said, “Now, you were saying? Oh, yes. What did I do? Hmm. Let’s see...” She patted her finger against her chin. “Oh, that’s right. I saved his life.”
“You saved his life?’ I repeated, swirling the words around my mouth, testing their validity. They tasted like shit. “We both know that’s not possible, Nikki. I saw him die. I watched it happen with my own eyes. Whoever that is,” I said, thumbing over my shoulder, “it’s not Trace!”
“First of all, you didn’t watch it happen. You made it happen. And I knew you would too. You heard me call it, didn’t you, Morgan?” she asked, turning to Morgan for confirmation.
Morgan shrugged one of her shoulders and dropped her eyes. By the looks of it, she had no interest in inserting herself in the middle of this showdown. Smart girl.
“So, I did what any gifted Caster would do. I worked a spell to protect Trace’s soul the minute I left your boyfriend’s house,” she continued, raising her chin to Dominic when she knew damn well that he wasn’t my boyfriend.
“Protected it how?” I asked, ignoring her bait as I tried to digest the full scope of craziness she was telling me. None of this made sense, and I needed it to make sense. I needed more information. Clear, concise, specific information.
“Let’s just say I tethered it to something earthly.” She flashed a wicked grin at the end of her purposefully vague response. “The second his soul left his body, my spell pulled it back and stored it someplace safe until I could restore the rest of his body,” she finished, looking incredibly proud of herself.
Then it was real…Trace was actually alive.
It was really him.
My mind was reeling as though my thoughts had been swept up into a windstorm. “How is this possible?” I asked breathlessly. And more importantly, how had I not been made aware that this was even a possibility?
“It’s easy if you know what you’re doing. And let’s be real, Jemma. I’m the cat’s fucking meow when it comes to magic in this town.” She interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them, waiting for more questions.
My chin snapped up as my eyes narrowed in on her. “And his memories?” I asked icily. “Why doesn’t he know who I am?” Every word was drenched in accusation and everyone at the table knew why.
“That was a consequence of the reanimation.” She shrugged it off as though it didn’t matter, because to her it didn’t. “If you ask me, it’s a blessing. He doesn’t need to remember you or what you did to him. He doesn’t need to remember any of it. I intend on restoring him to his former glory and if you care one iota about him, you’ll stay the hell away and let him have the life he had before you showed up here and ruined everything.”
Her words slammed into me like a kick to the gut. Everyone’s eyes fell heavy on me and suddenly, there wasn’t enough air left in our little bubble. They were all thinking the same thing. That I was the sole person responsible for everything bad that had ever happened to Trace. I could see it on their faces; feel it in the tension-soaked air around us. And I couldn’t even blame them for it, because on most days, I felt the same way they did.
But that was a tale for another day.
I squared my shoulders and forced my mind back to the subject at hand. I’d deal with my guilt later, the way I always dealt with it; alone and in the shadows. “Does he remember you?” I asked, my question locked and loaded with inuendo.
“Of course, he does. He remembers all of us.”
Another kick to the stomach. “So, basically, I’m the only one he’s forgotten?”
“Well, you and the whole Lucifer debacle.” Her smile widened into a cruel Cheshire grin. “It’s kind of kismet if you think about it.”
“Nikki.” Caleb reproached her, but it did nothing to tame the smile that had stretched across her face like a snake.
My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides as I tried to rein in the storm growing inside me. “So, basical
ly, you’re just lying to him about who he is and purposely keeping him in the dark? And now you’re expecting me to do the same thing, too, is that right?” I asked, my tone laced with condemnation. With absolute disbelief.
She was out of her mind if she thought I was going to play along with this little charade of hers for even a minute.
“I’m protecting him, Jemma. Something you should have been doing from day one.” She looked at me with disgust, as though I were the one raising people from the dead. “But it’s not too late. You can still do right by him now.”
“By handing him over to you, right?” The way I said it, I may as well have laughed in her face.
“If that’s what’s best for him,” she answered innocently as though this whole thing wasn’t completely self-serving.
I shook my head at her—at the sheer patheticness of it all. I couldn’t believe the lengths she would go to get her claws in Trace again. She was completely deranged. I mean, she had to be to do something like this.
“You can’t just erase me. I was a part of his life too. He deserves to know the truth, Nikki.” Even though there was a part of me that agreed with her—that knew I’d brought nothing by pain and suffering to his life—I refused to be complicit in this sham of a life she concocted for him. He deserved to know what happened all those months ago—and to decide for himself what he wanted to do with that truth. Even if that meant he’d want nothing to do with me.
“Telling him serves no purpose. The truth would only hurt him more.”
“He’s a big boy, Nikki, and you’re not his mother. He can handle it.”
“Why should he have to?” she quickly shot back. “Don’t you think he’s suffered enough? He already lost Linley, and now his father is dead too—also because of you—and you want to traumatize him even more?”
More gut kicks.
Of course, I didn’t want to traumatize him. I just…I wanted him to know the truth. To have all the pieces. To not live in the dark the way I had to for all those years. Was that really so wrong? Unless…my feelings were somehow misplaced; tainted by my own experiences and not necessarily what was best for Trace?
Incarnate: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Saga Book 5) Page 2