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Mortal Kiss

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by Alice Moss




  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2010 by Random House Children’s Books

  Cover art copyright © 2010 by Getty Images

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Ember, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published on the website www.stardoll.com in 2010. First published in book form in paperback in Great Britain by Random House Children’s Books, a division of the Random House Group Limited, London.

  Ember and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/teens

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  eISBN: 978-0-375-98879-0

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1: Back to School

  Chapter 2: New Arrivals

  Chapter 3: Bad Dogs

  Chapter 4: Unnatural Causes

  Chapter 5: RSVP

  Chapter 6: Mall Dogs Go to Heaven

  Chapter 7: The Man in the Shadows

  Chapter 8: Home Sweet Home

  Chapter 9: A Dog’s Life

  Chapter 10: A Question of Style

  Chapter 11: Making an Entrance

  Chapter 12: What Are Friends For?

  Chapter 13: Night Terrors

  Chapter 14: An Unexpected Encounter

  Chapter 15: Home Visit

  Chapter 16: Belongings

  Chapter 17: Making Up Is Hard to Do

  Chapter 18: Forest Speedway

  Chapter 19: A Simple Investigation

  Chapter 20: Blowout

  Chapter 21: Mirror, Mirror …

  Chapter 22: Here Comes the Sun

  Chapter 23: Unexpected Chemistry

  Chapter 24: Home Time

  Chapter 25: Jimmy

  Chapter 26: Hopes and Fears

  Chapter 27: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

  Chapter 28: Wanted—The Perfect Outfit

  Chapter 29: Let the Battle Begin!

  Chapter 30: True Colors

  Chapter 31: The Mill

  Chapter 32: Bound

  Chapter 33: Yellow Eyes

  Chapter 34: Family

  Chapter 35: Midnight

  Chapter 36: The Truth

  Chapter 37: Man in the Mirror

  Chapter 38: Secrets

  Chapter 39: Sleepover

  Chapter 40: Healing

  Chapter 41: Teamwork

  Chapter 42: Choosing Sides

  Chapter 43: Betrayal

  Chapter 44: Secrets and Lies

  Chapter 45: Homecoming

  Chapter 46: La Belle Dame

  Chapter 47: Eve

  Chapter 48: The Choice

  Chapter 49: Consequences

  Chapter 50: Preparations

  Chapter 51: The Halloween Ball

  Chapter 52: Trapped

  Chapter 53: No Mercy

  Chapter 54: Crowned

  Chapter 55: Last Stand

  Chapter 56: The Final Bargain

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1: Back to School

  Faye McCarron tucked a windblown strand of brown hair back beneath her wool hat before leaning down to snap another picture. She didn’t know how long the snow would last, and there was no sense in missing an opportunity.

  “Do you really want to be late for the first day of school?” Liz Wilson asked impatiently. “You know how cranky you get when you’re late.”

  Faye glanced at Liz, sticking her tongue out before turning to snap another image of the flowers outside Winter Mill High School.

  “The bell’s about to ring,” Liz warned.

  Faye straightened up with a sigh. She was taller than her best friend by a couple of inches, something Liz was always complaining about, though Faye couldn’t see that it made much difference. “Liz, come on. Look—these roses are covered in snow and it’s only the first week of September!”

  “I know, right?” Liz agreed, shaking her curly brown hair out of her perfectly made-up dark eyes. “It’s weird. I mean, maybe one freak snowfall would be OK, but anyone would think this was Christmas. The whole town looks like a greeting card.”

  “Exactly,” said Faye, taking another picture. “Which is why these photos will make a great story in the Miller—it never snows this early in New England. Totally weird.”

  Liz snorted. “Sure, because it’s not as if the school paper won’t have tons of dorks sending them pictures of their really cool snowmen.”

  Faye looked at her friend, knowing she was teasing. “Are you calling me a dork?”

  There was a brief silence. “So,” asked Liz, smoothly changing the subject, “any news from your dad this morning?”

  Faye shook her head. “No.”

  “And he hasn’t emailed? Or called?”

  “No.”

  Liz was quiet for another moment before she said brightly, “Oh well, he’s probably just busy or something. Where’s the latest dig?”

  Faye took her last picture and straightened up, fitting the lens cap to her digital SLR. It had been a Christmas present from her dad the previous year, the most expensive thing he’d ever given her. The plan was that when she was older, Faye would join him on one of his archaeology trips as an intern photographer. She couldn’t wait; it was something she’d wanted to do for ages. To visit all the incredible places her dad had told her about, with him there too, would just be awesome. Until then, though, Faye wished he could find a way to stay in touch more often when he was away. Sometimes weeks went by without a word, and Faye always worried, though she tried to hide it.

  “He’s in Tanzania.”

  Liz frowned. “In Australia?”

  “No.… Liz, that’s Tasmania.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tanzania’s in Africa.”

  “There you go! The mail probably isn’t too good there, right? Or phones. Or the Internet …”

  Despite herself, Faye grinned, pulling her friend into a brief hug. “Thanks, Lizzie.”

  “For what?”

  “Trying to make me feel better.”

  Liz hugged her back. “That’s what friends are for.”

  The sudden loud noise of a car behind them made them both jump. They turned to see a sleek black Cadillac slide to a halt a yard or so away, tires carving deep tracks in the snow.

  “Omigod!” squeaked Liz in excitement. “I bet that’s him!”

  “Who?”

  “The Morrow kid! Lucas!”

  The two girls watched as the passenger door opened and a boy of about sixteen stepped out. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with very pale blond hair that flopped across his brow above piercing blue eyes. He slung a backpack over his shoulder, reaching up to push his hair back as he glanced up at the school.

  “Omigod,” Liz stage-whispered. “He’s gorgeous. Take a picture!”

  “What?”

  “For the paper—you can do a story. About … about his arrival, and the whole Morrow mystery.”

  “The Morrow mystery? What are you talking about?”

  “The whole town’s going on about it. Come on, Faye, you must have heard about the Morrows arriving?”

  Faye had. Everyone was excited about the fact that Mercy Morrow, the fabulously wealthy heiress, had bought the old mansion in the woods.

  “I know the whole town seems to be fascinated by
them,” said Faye. “But I don’t see what’s so mysterious.”

  Liz sighed dramatically, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Faye. Why on earth would Mercy Morrow, one of the richest women in America, take a house here in quiet old Winter Mill?” she asked, repeating what many people in the town were saying. “She could go anywhere—Los Angeles, Monaco, Rome … but she came here.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And nobody knows why.”

  “Maybe she wanted to be in a place where no one would talk about her,” Faye suggested wryly.

  “Come on, Faye. Just take a picture.”

  “OK, OK.” Faye unhooked her lens cap and raised the camera, but before she could snap a shot, the driver’s door opened. A tall, pale man appeared, barking at them in an unpleasant, gravelly voice. His narrow face looked as if someone had taken a skull and covered it with skin-colored paint, it was so gaunt. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, dark and cruel. Just looking at him creeped Faye out.

  “No pictures,” he said roughly.

  “It’s just for the school paper,” said Faye.

  “I said, no pictures.”

  “It’s OK, Ballard,” Lucas Morrow said, pushing the car door shut. “I got it. Go back to Mom.”

  The man stared at Faye coldly before slowly getting into the car again. A moment later, the Cadillac pulled away.

  “Wow. My first locals,” said the boy with a slight smile as he reached them.

  “Hi,” said Faye, thrown slightly off-balance by her run-in with the man called Ballard. “So you’re Lucas Morrow? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Faye, and this is Liz.…”

  Lucas looked them both up and down. “So, you’re like … what? The top girl reporters of the small-town National Enquirer?”

  Faye narrowed her eyes. “The National Enquirer?”

  Lucas smirked. “Yeah. It’s a trash mag.”

  “I know what it is.”

  Faye watched, annoyed, as Lucas turned on his most charming smile. It showed his perfectly even, white teeth. “It’s … funny. Sometimes.”

  Faye refused to be charmed, still upset by his trash-mag gibe. “Sure it is.”

  There was a brief, awkward pause. “Sorry,” Lucas muttered. “That was supposed to be a joke. Guess I’m more nervous than I thought. It’s my first day.…”

  Faye shook her head. “It’s fine.”

  Lucas glanced at her, a mischievous look in his eye. “No? Are you sure? Because you don’t look fine. You look angry. Your eyes are flashing.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Liz piped up before Faye could answer. “They always do it. All her family have crazy green eyes.”

  Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “Crazy green eyes?”

  “Oh no,” said Liz, realizing what she’d said, “I didn’t mean … not crazy, crazy—they’re just, you know, really green.”

  Lucas laughed. “Well, that’s good. Crazy Faye isn’t much of a nickname.”

  Faye found her voice. “I don’t have a nickname. And please ignore my best friend—she’s … challenged.”

  Liz gasped in outrage. “Hey!”

  Lucas laughed again. “If you two are representative of the whole school, I think my stay here might be more interesting than I thought.”

  Faye smiled sweetly. “Does that mean you’ll let me take a picture for the school paper?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Maybe. How about we strike a deal? You let me give you a nickname, and I’ll let you take a picture.”

  Faye shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  Lucas sighed regretfully. “Too late. I’ve already thought of the perfect nickname. Flash. I think it suits you.”

  “Flash?” Faye repeated, horrified.

  “Sure. For your green eyes, and your addiction to snapping pictures. Perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Actually, that’s pretty good,” said Liz with a nod.

  Lucas smiled at her. “Thank you. It’s a talent of mine. One of many.”

  Faye dug an elbow into Liz’s ribs. “You will not call me Flash! No one’s going to call me Flash!”

  “Aw, come on, Flash, don’t be a killjoy,” teased Lucas.

  “I’m not—” Faye began, but Lucas had already started to walk away.

  Faye and Liz watched as he headed for Winter Mill High’s main doors.

  “Hey!” Faye shouted suddenly. “I didn’t take your picture!”

  The boy looked over his shoulder with a grin but didn’t stop. Faye raised her camera, snapping two quick images before he disappeared through the doors.

  “Oh … my … God!” Liz breathed. “Isn’t he just the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever seen?”

  Faye shook her head, unsure whether to be angry or amused. Flash. He’d called her Flash! What a terrible nickname. “Come on,” she said to Liz, running for the doors as the bell rang. “We’re late!”

  “Hey, wait up!” Liz called after her. “So, are you going to write about the Morrow mystery, or not?”

  Chapter 2: New Arrivals

  By the time school let out, Faye had had just about enough of Liz’s constant talk about the “utterly awesome” Lucas Morrow. Liz had spent the whole day nattering about nothing else, and it was beginning to drive Faye nuts. It didn’t help that Liz was now calling her Flash at every opportunity. It wasn’t often Faye didn’t want to be with Liz, but right now she wished she were going home alone.

  Every day after school, the two girls headed back to Faye’s house to study. Liz spent so much time there that Aunt Pam sometimes suggested she just move right in. Faye’s mom had died when she was little, and ever since then Faye and her dad had lived with Aunt Pam, her dad’s sister. Aunt Pam owned the only bookshop in Winter Mill and knew everything there was to know about the town and its history. In fact, Aunt Pam knew a lot about all kinds of history and cultures. She’d spent most of her twenties and thirties traveling all over the world, and had even lived in Eastern Europe and India for a few years before coming back to Winter Mill to start her own business. Faye loved her like a mother.

  “Aunt Pam! We’re home,” Faye called loudly as she and Liz pushed open the store’s wooden door. The cluttered shop was quiet, but Pamela McCarron appeared from the back room as Faye and Liz stamped their snowy feet on the mat. Her wavy red hair was bound in a printed African scarf, and despite the snow outside, she wore her usual T-shirt and long skirt.

  “There’s no need to shout,” Aunt Pam said calmly. “You’ve lived here long enough to know I can’t be more than a few feet away, now, haven’t you?”

  Faye crossed the floor to give her aunt a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry. Anything from Dad?”

  Aunt Pam squeezed her arm with a shake of her head. “Not yet, but try not to worry.”

  Faye nodded, but her stomach twisted. Her dad had been out of contact longer than usual.

  “I know it’s hard, but you know what he’s like. He’ll pop up in a day or two,” Aunt Pam told her warmly. “Now, there are some ginger cookies up in the kitchen for you. Let me know what books you girls need for your homework and I’ll get them for you.”

  Liz threw her arms around Aunt Pam. “What about something on how to make the boy of your dreams fall in love with you?”

  “What’s this, now?”

  “Ignore her,” sighed Faye. “She just hasn’t stopped going on about the new boy since she saw him this morning.”

  “Oh?” asked Aunt Pam. “What new boy?”

  “Lucas Morrow. He’s amazing. Just amazing, Aunt Pam,” Liz gushed. “He’s gorgeous and clever and funny—”

  “And annoying,” Faye added.

  She saw Liz roll her eyes. “Faye doesn’t like him.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like him. I don’t know him. And what’s more, I don’t think I want to know him.”

  “Faye,” Aunt Pam chided, “don’t be like that. He’s new in town. You should be a bit more welcoming.”

  “He calls me Flash!” Faye squeaked. “It’s so embarrassing. Liz is alr
eady doing it. If the two of them don’t stop, it’s going to catch on and the whole school will be calling me Flash too! I wish I’d never met him!”

  Faye saw Aunt Pam trying to keep a straight face. “Flash? You know, that’s actually—”

  “Oh, don’t you start,” groused Faye.

  “If that’s the worst he can come up with, I think you should probably give him the benefit of the doubt,” laughed her aunt.

  “Did I mention that he’s totally gorgeous, Aunt Pam?” Liz added. “He has this amazing hair that just—”

  “Argh!” Faye put her hands over her ears. “Please, no more about the wonderful new boy. Can we please just have thirty minutes without a single mention of him? Please?”

  “Oh, all right,” sighed Liz. “Come on, I want one of those cookies—” She stopped short as the sudden sound of loud engines shattered the peace of the quiet street outside.

  “What on earth is that?” Faye asked, going to the front door. She opened it as Liz and her aunt joined her, all of them staring out into the snowy street.

  Six huge black bikes were roaring, rolling slowly down the road, churning up the snow as they went. They were in formation, a large V-shape that took up so much room that no cars could pass. The riders were all dressed in thick black leather and wore dark glasses that hid their eyes. The leader of the pack had a gray beard and long, straggly gray hair that blew out behind him as he cruised past.

  All along the street, the people of Winter Mill were coming out of their homes, startled by the thunder of the motorbikes.

  “Wow,” Faye said, raising her voice so Aunt Pam and Liz could hear her. “What a racket!”

  “Who are they?” Liz asked, shouting too. “I don’t recognize any of them.”

  Aunt Pam watched the bikes carefully. “They’ve been in the area for a couple of days,” she said. “But this is the first time they’ve all come down into town together. I think they’re introducing themselves. Somehow I don’t think they’re going to be very welcome here.”

  The riders drew up in front of the bookstore. Faye was fascinated. She’d never seen real bikers before. She scrambled for her camera, eager to take a picture; the bikers would make a great article for the Miller. Looking through the viewfinder, Faye realized that one of the bikers was staring right at her. He was younger than the rest of the gang, and she thought he probably wasn’t much older than she was. His dark hair was cropped close beneath his helmet, and she couldn’t see his eyes well because of his shades. But something about him made Faye pause, looking over her camera, as he passed.

 

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