“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said and then pushed up on her toes to kiss him full on the mouth. At least that’s what it looked like from the angle I was standing in.
A raging volcano erupted in my stomach, spewing out toxic ash clouds that pummeled through every cell in my body as I stood there and watched her devour him right in front of my eyes. She had balls; I’d give her that much.
“Are you planning on letting him breath?” I snapped and then grabbed her elbow to pull her off him.
Trace’s surprised gaze landed on me and then stayed there.
“Oopsie. I didn’t see you there, Jemma,” said Nikki as she wiped the lipstick from under her bottom lip. “You’re so easy to miss sometimes,” she added and then fired off the world’s fakest school-girl giggle.
The sound of it made my vision go red.
“Don’t push me, Nikki. Not today,” I warned, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.
Trace bounced his gaze from me to Nikki and then back again. “So, I guess you two know each other, too?”
“Unfortunately.” I opened my schoolbag and resumed the search for my missing lock.
“And I take it you don’t like each other?” asked Trace, his eyes trained on me again. I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He looked so damn confused and he didn’t even know the half of it.
“Don’t be silly, babe,” said Nikki as she cupped the side of his face and stole his attention back. “We hung out with her last year. We had a falling out over a misunderstanding, but we’re all friends again.”
I snorted. “That’s a likely story.”
“You never mentioned her,” said Trace, looking painfully desperate for answers.
I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be him right now. So many missing pieces…so much missing time. He was walking around in the dark with no recollection of where he’d come from or where he was going because of it. And all he had was Nikki, the puppeteer master, deciding which parts to feed him and which parts to leave out.
She waved her hand dismissively. “I wasn’t even sure she was coming back to Weston, so I didn’t think it mattered. I mean, we had way more important things to deal with, don’t you think?” Before anyone could answer, she quickly changed the subject, “So, who do you have for first period, Jem?”
Jem? This freakin’ heifer had some nerve.
“Trace has Humanities with Mr. Watson and I got Math with Mrs. Polanski,” she went on causally as though I wasn’t standing there glaring at her with laser beams in my eyes.
“Is that your schedule? Here let me check for you,” she said and grabbed the sheet of paper from my locker shelf. A flicker of something sinister passed through her eyes but she quickly buried it. “Humanities it is. Oh, well, maybe we’ll have second period together.”
“We should be so lucky,” I answered flatly.
“Right?” She giggled again, this time it was high-pitched and noticeably forced. “Anyway, we’ll catch up with you later, Jem. Sit with us at lunch, kay?” she sang and then spun on her heel, dragging Trace along with her like he was her own personal build-a-boyfriend.
I stood there and watched them walk away, shooting daggers into the back of her head and wishing with every fiber of my being that she could feel it.
It was painfully obvious that the girl was batshit crazy and we were all just living in her asylum. Little did she know, her days as head looney-toon were about to come to an end.
By the time I found my lock, composed myself and made it to Humanities, the second bell had already rung. Mr. Watson was standing at the front of the class introducing himself and the curriculum when I barged into the room with my binder in one hand and my phone in the other.
“Welcome, welcome. Come one, come all. And who might you be?”
“Jemma Blackburn,” I mumbled and then quickly apologized for being late.
“Nothing to worry about so long as you don’t make a habit of it. Find yourself a seat,” he instructed, motioning around the almost packed classroom.
I quickly scanned the room for an empty desk and found two near the back of the room, but on opposite sides.
My eyes immediately moved to Trace who was sitting behind one of the empty desks. His gaze was fixed on me as I stood there awkwardly, silently debating which desk to take.
Without taking his eyes off me, he unfurled his leg and gently kicked the chair out in front of him. My stomach tightened into a super knot as I realized he’d saved a seat for me.
“Any seat at all,” prompted Mr. Watson when I just stood there, staring at Trace.
“Right.” Deciding it would be rude not to take the seat, I sucked in a steadying breath and then shuffled down the aisle towards the back of the room before taking my seat at the desk in front of Trace.
Mr. Watson immediately went on with his well-practiced first-day-of-school speech while my mind zeroed in on the ever-present humming sensation buzzing all over my body. I couldn’t help but wonder if Trace felt it too and if he did, what he thought about it. He must have made the connection by now. It was impossible to miss it. That is, unless that part of him was blocked too. As I contemplated the inner workings of Trace’s current state of mind, a folded piece of paper flew over my shoulder and landed on the desk in front of me.
I picked up the note in my hand, but I didn’t open it right away. I honestly couldn’t. I was too busy trying to smoother the heartbreaking feeling of Deja-vu I was experiencing.
Heck, who was I kidding? Everything about being back in this town—in this school—was like reading a painful eulogy of what used to be. I hadn’t even been able to walk through the downstairs corridor, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if I happened upon Taylor’s old locker.
My heart immediately constricted as the harrowing memory of my best friend clawed its way to the forefront of my mind, thickening my throat and making it hard to swallow.
Fucking dammit.
This was exactly what I’d been afraid might happen if I came back here. I’d spent months on the road, months moving forward—from the towns we stayed in, to the quiet heartbreak that had followed me everywhere like a shadow. I worked hard to separate myself from everything that had happened here so that I could do my job out there, and it was working perfectly fine.
I’d moved on.
I had found a way out of the fire.
And I’d grown stronger because of it.
And now look at me. I was right back where I’d started. Right back in the inferno that burned down my entire life and everyone in it.
I sucked in a tremulous breath and forcibly shoved the memories back down, burying them in the deep abyss of my heart, praying that if I just buried them deep enough, they might one day surprise me and actually stay buried. What else could I do? I certainly couldn’t allow myself to be dragged back into that place—into that suffocating unlivable space of pain and guilt and self-doubt. That place was my living hell and I refused to go back there.
Another gentle kick hit the back leg of my chair, jolting me back to the here and now. Trace was still waiting on me to read his note. Releasing the burning lungful of air I’d been holding, I unfolded the paper and read it:
I figured out where I know you from.
And believe me when I say this isn’t a line, but…
I’ve dreamt about you before.
Why am I dreaming about you, Jemma Blackburn?
My entire body went numb. Trace was dreaming about me. But why? And how that was even possible when he had no memory of ever knowing me? I couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that he was dreaming about me meant he was somehow starting to remember me subconsciously.
Was I still in there somewhere, buried deep within his mind, even despite the fact that I’d been seemingly erased from his memory?
I folded the piece of paper and shoved it into my front pocket.
My pulse quickened as a million different possibilities bombarded my head. I didn’t have a
ny answers for him. Well, none that I felt confident could be shared without consequence. Heck, at this point, I didn’t even have any answers for myself. I was completely in the dark about all things Trace and it was starting to drive me mad.
I needed to know exactly what had happened to him, why and how his memories had disappeared, and if they’d ever come back again. I may not have had any of the answer we both desperately needed right now, but I sure as hell intended on getting them. I just needed to keep a good distance from him until I did.
How hard could that be?
7. RISKY BUSINESS
I spent the rest of the afternoon doing my very best to avoid Trace and those questioning eyes of his. Unfortunately, he seemed to be everywhere that I went. And it really didn’t help that our class schedule was almost identical this year. By the time lunch finally rolled around, I grabbed an apple from my locker and made my way to the cafeteria, utterly exhausted from the effort.
Trace, of course, was already there, sitting with Nikki, Carly and Morgan at their usual table—the same one we’d all sat at last year. His eyes found mine immediately, as though he had been waiting for me to show up. Well, that or he’d sensed me walking into the crowded cafeteria, and at this point, I wasn’t sure which one was more dangerous.
To my surprise, Nikki immediately put her arm in the air upon spotting me and waved me over. I narrowed my eyes at her and turned in the opposite direction, choosing to sit by myself at a table closer to the entrance doors.
Honestly, the nicer she pretended to be to me, the more I wanted to smash her phony face into a table. The rage struggle was real, so I decided it was best to stay away from her until I was sure I didn’t need her.
After that, all bets would be off.
Less than a minute later, Caleb walked into the cafeteria with Ben flanking his right side. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Ben since that faithful night at All Saints and while I’d forgiven him for his role in what happened to Taylor, I hadn’t had any particular interest in talking to him.
Then again, I didn’t have much interest in talking to anyone these days so that wasn’t much of a shocker. The way I saw it, my senior year was just a pit stop on the way to my real life. A life that had no room for boyfriends and friends and parties, especially those of the human variety. Just look at what happened the last time I tried to be normal and have a normal life with a normal friend.
She ended up six feet under.
The chair screeched across from me as Caleb pulled out a seat and sat down. Ben, albeit hesitant, pulled out the one next to him and also sat down.
“How’s it going, Blackburn?” asked Caleb as he tousled his cooper hair.
“It’s going.” My eyes skirted to Ben. He looked unsure of himself, afraid even, like he was worried I might pounce across the table and attack him.
Believe me, I’d envisioned myself tearing him to shreds more times than I could count over the summer, and if this were three months ago, I may have done just that. But time had a strange way of healing old wounds and giving a little perspective.
“Hey,” I said, deciding instead to cut him some slack and break the ice first.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, relief filtering into his soft brown eyes. “Hey, Jem.”
I took a bite of my apple and assessed him. He looked like he’d been through the wringer. His hair was neatly shaven, and his school uniform was crisp enough, but his melancholy eyes seemed older. Tired. “How’ve you been?”
He shrugged as if to play it down and then shook his head. “Been better, I guess.”
I nodded, knowing the feeling.
“How was your summer break?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table as he fiddled with the piercing at the crown of his ear; something he often did when he was nervous. “Heard you went on the road with your sister.”
“I did,” I answered without elaborating. I didn’t feel the need to go into any specifics. I left because I had to—because of what happened that night at All Saints, and I had zero desire to discuss any of it.
Instead, my traitorous eyes shifted across the cafeteria to where Trace was sitting with Nikki. His ocean blue eyes were trained on me, watching me like a star-crossed lover.
“Bet you were shocked when you got back, eh?” asked Ben, noticing where my attention had gone.
“You can say that that again.” Frankly, shocked didn’t even begin to describe it. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could describe what it felt like to see Trace again.
“It just doesn’t feel real,” I said, still looking at Trace. “I mean, I see him; I’ve spoken to him, but it’s like my brain can’t accept that it’s actually him.” I tore my gaze away from Trace and met Ben’s eyes. “It is him, isn’t it?” I asked, needing for someone else to confirm it for me—someone who knew him as well as I did.
“It’s him. He’s missing a ton of shit in his noggin’ now, but it’s definitely him.”
I swallowed roughly; my throat having gone completely dry from this conversation. How the hell was I ever going to fully process the fact that Trace was back from the dead—back from the grave I’d put him in?
What would he think about me once he found out the truth? Would he ever even get the chance to learn the truth? And if so, would things ever be okay between us again?
I had so many questions and literally zero answers. I pushed away my troubling thoughts and focused back in on Ben. “So, why aren’t you sitting with him?” I asked, the thought having just occurred to me.
“Same reason you’re not,” he said and then sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Nikki’s got her claws in him good this time. Got him thinking he’s her lapdog and everything. The whole thing gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” I couldn’t hide the bitterness from my voice. “At least he remembers you.” That was a lot more than I could say for myself.
“Don’t take it personal. She probably erased you from his memory on purpose.”
“Whoa.” Caleb whistled. “That’s a big accusation, man.”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed, sticking firmly to it. “And?”
“You have anything to back it up with?” asked Caleb, grimacing at him. “You can’t just put stuff like that out there without proof.”
“Okay, but does he really need proof?” I asked rhetorically. “It’s Nikki, Caleb. She’s couldn’t be more obsessed with Trace if he shat golden eggs.”
“Still,” said Caleb, sneaking a peek in their direction. “Fucking with someone’s head like that is dangerous. One wrong move and he’s toast. Why would she go through all the trouble of bringing him back only to fry his brain?”
“I don’t know, because she’s a psychopath,” I offered. Seemed like a plausible enough reason to me.
Ben nodded in agreement; his arms still crossed over his chest.
“That may or may not be true, but we both know she’s not stupid,” defended Caleb, and I resisted the urge to tell him to go sit at someone else’s table.
The last thing I wanted to hear was anyone defending her. This was not the Nikki Parker Fanclub table and it definitely wasn’t the let’s-give-her-the-benefit-of-the-doubt table. So, he could take his perfectly valid points and shove them where the sun refused to shine.
“I’m just saying, she loves the guy. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him on purpose.”
“Whatever.” Ben rolled his eyes, obviously buying it about as much as I was. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I took another bite of my apple and focused back on Caleb. “Do you know anything about how she did it?” I asked him since he appeared to know so much about her motives and all. Maybe he had some insider information that could give me the edge over her. “She must’ve had help,” I added, doing my best not to sound accusatory.
“Don’t look at me.” His hands quickly shot up in defense. “If she had any help, it wasn’t from me.”
“So, she didn’t talk to you about it beforehand?”
>
“Not a word. I found out at the same time everyone else did. I swear it.”
Well, there went my edge. I sank back in my chair and mulled it over. If Caleb didn’t help her, then who did? It would’ve had to have been someone she trusted. Someone powerful. Someone who was well versed in Dark magic. There was no way Nikki pulled this off on her own. She wasn’t that good.
“What are you planning, Jem?” asked Ben, his eyes thinning with curiosity. “I know that look.”
“What look?” I shrugged innocently.
“The look you get when you’re up to something.” He pushed forward from his chair and leaned over the table. “Whatever it is you’re planning, I want in.”
“I’m still working on it, but I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out,” I said and then snuck another look across the cafeteria.
Trace’s eyes flicked up again to meet mine. Time seemed to melt away as we stared at each other from across the room like two halves of a whole trying to find their way back together.
And then, like a thorny hemorrhoid in my ass, Nikki looked up and caught the exchange. She promptly wrapped her bony arm around his bicep and forced his attention back to her like the conniving cow that she was.
Enjoy it while you can, Nikki Psycho Parker, because Trace’s lapdog days were numbered.
I managed to make it to the end of the day without disfiguring anyone’s face—namely Nikki’s. It had been a long, trying day, and frankly, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of Weston Academy. The minute the final bell rang, I was out of class and elbowing my way through the crowded hallway before reaching my locker in record time. And after only two failed attempts, I’d finally remembered the right combination to my lock and got the stupid thing open.
I wasted no time dropping to my knees to pack up the homework I had no intention of doing.
“You never answered me,” said a gravelly voice beside me.
Incarnate: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Saga Book 5) Page 6