As I blinked, my eyelids brushed across the contacts I wore, and I was reminded that I had my costume firmly in place and his impassive expression might simply be evidence of his failure to recognize me. Although I could have sworn hours had passed since I’d seen Clay, less than a minute has passed. I planted what I hoped came across as a look of casual disinterest on my face and smiled at him like he was just any other customer. There was no reason to let him know he was responsible for my shaking hands and ragged breath.
“How can I help you today?” I asked when my voice was steady enough.
He stepped closer to me and splayed his hands on the counter. “Did you get the flowers I left for you?”
I tried to take another step away from him, but l was stopped by the wall behind me. It doesn’t mean he recognizes you. It’s been two years since high school, and right now you don’t look like you. Maybe he just likes the new look.
If my hair were out, I would have had no doubts over whether he recognized me. I could still remember his words to me on my first day, “I like what you’ve done with your hair, by the way. Not many girls have the courage to dye it so many colors at once.” At the time, it had unnerved me that Clay had paid close enough attention to me to notice that my hair wasn’t strawberry blonde like most people had assumed when I was younger. It made me wonder how long it would be before he noticed my eyes were actually purple and not the blue they could pass for with a casual glance.
“Will you please answer me?” he asked in a graveled whisper.
I raised my gaze from the long fingers of his hands pressed against the counter in front of me and met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, still clinging to the vestiges of hope that he didn’t really know who I was.
“Sir?” he sneered. “Evie, please?” The way his lips wrapped around my name and the quiet, pleading tone of his voice made me take a step closer to him as if he’d used an invisible cord to draw me toward him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He looked over his shoulder at the security camera trained onto the register. “Not here. Can you meet me later?”
I shook my head, I couldn’t risk it. I needed to get home, and then Dad and I needed to leave. Home isn’t safe—he knows where you live.
And yet, you’re still here. I frowned at the thought. Not that I was going to ask him to explain his reasons for not attacking sooner, but I couldn’t help wonder why was I still alive.
“Please?” One of his hands shot forward and grabbed my wrist. He didn’t even flinch at the warmth of my skin, but then he had to have expected it. After all, for whatever reason, he was the catalyst for it. “I just want to talk to you.”
“No.”
“Please?” he pleaded. His tone was desperate and it disarmed me.
“I—I can’t.”
Using his hold on my wrist, he pulled me closer to the counter until I was leaning forward and we were almost cheek-to-cheek. “I understand why,” he murmured against the shell of my ear. His warm breath washed over my skin, making my body quake. It was almost as strong as the tremors I experienced over thoughts of what he might do now that he’d found me again. “But I’m not going anywhere until you do.”
A cold shiver raced along my spine at his meaning, and I nodded robotically. The meeting was confirmation of what I’d dreaded ever since I’d seen the flowers on my stoop.
He’d found me.
Is that camera the only reason I’m still alive?
“You will have to listen to me eventually,” he murmured, and then, almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, he was at the door. He cast one last furtive look over his shoulder before sweeping out of the store. I leaned heavily against the counter, finally breathing freely again. At least until his final words settled over me. He’d said something similar once before, and, with the dreams I’d had of him still fresh in my memory, I could easily recall it.
CLAY HAD always been able to make my heart stop for tiny moments of time; only now it was for completely different reasons. For the rest of my shift, every noise caused my heart to leap and stutter in staccato bursts. Whenever the door opened, I had to double-check that it wasn’t him coming back to finish the task that he’d failed to do twice already.
One thing was clear to me. If Clay didn’t kill me before I reached home, there was no valid excuse to stay in Charlotte for a moment longer. I would have closed the shop to leave earlier, but I wasn’t ready for a confrontation with Clay. It was an unrealistic thought, but part of me hoped he would disappear if he had to wait long enough.
I scoffed at my own naivety. He’s waited two years, what’s another couple of hours?
At least four times over the course of the afternoon, I’d gone to door to survey the area in front of the shop. Even though I couldn’t see him, his gaze burned into me. Every minute that passed in that tortured state deepened my resolve to leave the instant I arrived home.
CHAPTER THREE
BY THE time the Mr. Lewis, the shop’s owner, came in for the evening shift, my nerves were completely frayed. I asked whether there was anything that he needed me to do, just so I would have an excuse not to leave by myself, but he’d just patted my hand and told me to go get some rest because I looked tired. After leaving the shop and heading toward home, I paid special attention to everyone around me. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief that Clay hadn’t found me alone and unarmed during my walk, he stepped out from a concealed doorway and fell into step beside me.
Even as I tried to ignore him and walk faster, I glanced around furtively in the hope that there would be someone else around—some witness that would still his hand and keep me alive long enough to get back to Dad and escape.
“I need to talk to you,” Clay said.
I crossed my arms together to force myself to not reach for him and quickened my steps. “We have nothing to say to each other,” I hissed. “Besides, I think you made yourself clear the last time we spoke. If you’re here because of some sick sense of duty, just do it and stop tormenting me already.”
He reached out for my arm, using my own momentum to swing me around to face him before taking a handful of steps in my direction, forcing me backward until he’d cornered me against an alley wall with my hands pinned against the wall above my head. The moment I was trapped, I stuck my chin out defiantly.
If he was going to kill me, he would have to look me in the eye and do it. A familiar wave of heat washed over my skin, culminating in my fingers. If he thought I would be easy to destroy, he was mistaken. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The heat racing over my body wasn’t enough to force him to release me though.
“I’m sorry for what happened that day,” he said. “I . . . I can’t even tell you what’s been going through my mind since then.”
His words disarmed me, they were the last things I expected from him, and I closed my eyes as they took me back to the precise moment my life changed.
With the memory of that afternoon beneath the canopy of magnolias in my mind, a renewed fire burned within me.
“You’re sorry? For what? Let me guess, you’ve been furious for all these years that you let the monster go?” I spat at him. “I know what you are and all about that group you belong to.” At least this time I was armed with the knowledge of exactly how dangerous he was to me. I wouldn’t be taken by surprise when the boy I’d liked turned into the fearsome hunter he truly was.
My admission didn’t seem to surprise Clay in the least.
“I know why they sent you and what you’re here to do,” I added.
“You really don’t,” he said. He leaned his body closer to me, pinning me tighter against the wall. His breath blew across my skin and, just like it had when he’d whispered his warning back in the shop, being so close to him set new fires ablaze within me, ones that had nothing to do with fear.
Those fires caused my stomach to clench and a desperate ache to flood through my body.
“You
made your feelings about me perfectly clear last time.” I set my jaw and tried to ignore my traitorous body. “Why don’t you stop wasting both our time and just do it already!”
His attack came before I’d even finished talking. He was so close I couldn’t have fought him off even if I’d anticipated his move. Instead of a knife or a gun striking me though, his lips formed the attack. They pressed desperately hard against my mouth with a desperation that left me breathless. I tugged at my hands in an attempt to fight free of his hold. Only my fight wasn’t met with any resistance. He released his hold instantly.
My intention had been to push him away. When my palms brushed his shirt though, my fingers curled. I clutched him to me instead, drawing him closer still. His fingers slipped underneath the base of my wig, and he tilted my head to allow his tongue more room to graze along my lower lip. A soft moan left him, humming against my willing lips as his breathing grew ragged and needful.
My head spun, not only from the sudden shift between my expectation and reality, but also because the desperation in his kiss stole my breath away. I was grateful for the wall behind my back. I leaned against it for support as his attack continued. While my body shifted closer to the wall in small increments, his moved to press against me until I was completely surrounded on both sides.
I was captured in his embrace. But I couldn’t find it in me to fight him off. I didn’t want to. Despite all of the layers of clothing between us, the effect our proximity had on his body was clear. I pressed my hips off the wall to meet with his. I slid my hands around to his back and was pulling him closer still when his lips ended their relentless onslaught.
He rested his forehead against mine as he issued a staggering sigh.
“I’ve waited two years for that,” he murmured as his chest heaved against mine while he struggled to steady his breathing. “And it was as every bit as perfect as I’d dreamed it would be.”
Perfect was the right word. Every inch of my body longed to pull him against me and kiss him again, to not allow him a single moment to second-guess his actions. The other part was so shocked by the shift that had occurred since our last meeting that I was left reeling.
I had no idea how long we’d been there for—who could bother to count such meaningless things as the passage of seconds when being attacked so perfectly—but it wasn’t long enough for me.
I needed more.
Once our breathing had returned to normal, he stepped away. I had to rest my weight against the wall to stay upright as my legs were wobbling so violently. Whether from shock or that kiss, I couldn’t say. I lifted my hand and pressed my fingers against my now swollen lips. They were tender, but in the best possible way.
“What?” I asked, trying to gather my senses. “Why?”
“Can we please talk?” he asked again as he put more distance between us.
I nodded absently.
“Meet me here,” he murmured as he pressed a card into my palm. “Anytime that you want, I’ll be waiting.”
For a moment, he seemed to have an internal debate as his eyes fell to my mouth and his tongue slicked across his lower lip just before he sank his top teeth into his pout. It was as if he was stopping himself from doing it again. Disappointment flicked through my body, quelling the fires his kiss had ignited. I was an idiot. He was dangerous to me. I had to remember that above anything else.
“Wait,” I murmured, and his gaze lifted back up to meet mine. There was one vital question I needed the answer to. “How did you find me so easily?”
What did Dad and I do wrong that allowed him to find us?
He snorted. “You think it was easy?”
With a shake of his head, he clenched his hands into fists. Then he stalked away with deliberate steps and without a backward glance, leaving me alone with my questions.
CHAPTER FOUR
I SHOULDN’T be here.
Against my better judgment, when I’d arrived home the previous evening, I hadn’t told Dad what had happened—or more specifically who had reappeared in my life. It wasn’t the smart choice, but it was the only choice I could make. I’d wanted to run, but the ghost of Clay’s lips on mine all night made it impossible. If I did, I’d always wonder what had come over him to react that way.
This is a mistake though. Clay is dangerous.
I also needed to know how he’d found me so easily—Dad and I had put a great effort into disappearing two years earlier and every time we’d moved since. This meeting was purely for self-preservation. At least that was what I told myself as I lied to Dad, asking if I could drive his old Ford F150 to work so I could grab a few supplies on the way home.
I’d gotten ready for work as normal, only forgoing my contacts, even though I had no intention of going. Instead, I’d gone straight to a payphone and called in sick before heading toward the address that Clay had pushed into my hand after our kiss. At each set of traffic lights, I reminded myself again of the fact that I was only going for reconnaissance.
It’s not a date. Remember that he wants to kill you—your kind.
I pulled the car up to the address on the card, and my heart stopped. A seemingly abandoned warehouse, dilapidated and collapsing in places, stood surrounded by broken fences and a fallen barbed-wire fence. I swallowed down the fear that rose and threatened to make me lose control. When I’d decided earlier that I would meet Clay, despite the risks, I hadn’t expected his chosen meeting place to be something straight out of a horror movie.
I recalled all of the neighboring places that I’d driven past to get there. They had all appeared relatively well-kept and were buzzing with activity. The mess in front of me looked like it had sat empty for at least five years. It didn’t escape my notice that it would be the perfect place to hide a body—not that there would be a body to hide if he killed me.
With great difficulty, I swallowed down my doubt. I’d made the decision to be there, and, for better or worse, I would follow it through. My fingers tingled with heat as I pushed open the large roller door, wincing as it squeaked and shuddered its way into motion. It wasn’t exactly the subtle entrance I’d been hoping for, and now there was no turning back. As if there ever really had been.
I’d barely slid the door shut, locking myself into a darkened corridor, when I saw a familiar figure through the dim light. For a moment, I stood motionless wondering if this would be the moment my curiosity finally did me in.
“Thank you for coming,” Clay said softly.
“I almost didn’t,” I admitted, and he nodded to show he understood. “Why are we here?”
The question must have confused him because he tipped his head to one side like a puppy.
“Couldn’t we have met somewhere a little more public?” Somewhere that has less of a serial-killer vibe to it?
“This is where I’m staying at the moment.”
“You live here?”
He smiled in response to my question. “Follow me.”
Taking a deep breath to cool my skin and steady my nerves, I followed him deeper into the abandoned warehouse. As he led me through the twisting hallways, I paid close attention to the layout. It was another ritual Dad had instilled in me: always have an escape plan. Especially in a situation like this, when cornered by a dangerous individual.
I really shouldn’t be here. What if we aren’t alone?
I glanced around quickly to ensure that no one else was following us. Certain—or at least as certain as I could be—that we were alone I trailed the path he laid. Despite the fear bubbling along within me, the simple beauty of the derelict building took me aback. The roof had been dismantled in places, allowing a patchwork of daylight to enter and bounce around the space. What should have appeared just as dilapidated and neglected as the outside, instead appeared airy because the holes in the ceiling allowed a natural light to pass through to softly infuse the area with the morning sun.
The inner workings were less claustrophobic than the entrance corridor. The once-white walls were now ado
rned with bright, overlapping, multicolored graffiti. Each tag was a claim for space by some faceless vandal, but somehow they blended together to grant the barren innards a warmth. It was almost as if each graffiti artist had imprinted the walls with a part of themselves, leaving behind a lingering presence. Overall, the colors combined to make it almost welcoming.
If only I was there under better circumstances.
Clay turned to me as we approached a heavy wooden door in the middle of the maze. He opened it, revealing a smaller hidden space. Despite its rundown state, the room was almost magical. The roof had almost completely collapsed onto the floor, which allowed the sun to pour in and bounce off the once-white walls. In one corner, a sleeping bag stretched out over a vacant patch of floor resting beside a pile of camping gear.
“Welcome to my house,” he said with a wry grin.
“Why am I here, Clay?” I had been asking myself the same question again and again, but voicing it to him helped to restore my confidence. I may have come at his request, but it was on my terms.
“I told you. I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted.”
“With who your family is, could you have had any other reaction?” I asked.
There was no point in trying to deny any of the accusation he’d hurled at me that day or convince him he was wrong in order to cover my own ass. We were both aware that I wasn’t human. I suspected he knew exactly what I was as well as I now did.
I was lost in the memory of that afternoon when I noticed Clay staring at me.
His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line. It was as though I was a great puzzle just waiting to be solved.
My gaze met his and with the memories of that day of my discovery fresh in my mind, a swirl of questions raced through me. There was one that burned through me brighter than any other. “Do you know who killed my mother?”
Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire Book 1) Page 2