Tristan kept smiling, even as he pulled her closer against his solid chest, and wrapped his arms around her. “Care to dance?”
From somewhere, Mason spat out the foulest curse. Edie couldn’t see him, her vision overshadowed by Tristan, but she felt his confrontational presence, fists undoubtedly clenched. And behind her, she felt her friends’ presences, their fears at finally seeing the ghost, who’d been tormenting her life. The rest of the students were unaware of the new kid at the party. They were still trying to flee skeletons, zombies, and spiders. Adding to their miseries, a werewolf howled in the distance, and the mummy rose from its coffin.
Tristan didn’t turn, didn’t even acknowledge Mason’s presence. He kept staring at Edie with those dark, blue eyes, so cold. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long, Edie.” He leaned forward and brushed his cold lips against her ear, saying, “You should have obeyed me. His death is on your hands, my sweet.”
Tristan released her, but she had no control over her body. She was paralyzed all over, except for her mouth, which she used to her full advantage.
“No, please, don’t!” she pleaded. “I’m sorry. Punish me, not him. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise. Just don’t hurt him!”
Tristan ignored her and turned to confront Mason, who wasn’t afraid, but should’ve been.
Tristan looked over his shoulder at Edie, and said, “Lessons have to be learned the hard way, my love. And your promise doesn’t mean a damn thing to me! Yes, you will be punished and you will do whatever I want!”
At this threat, Mason growled, clenched a fist even tighter, then reared it back, and with all the force that he could muster, slammed it against the side of Tristan’s face. Struck, Tristan’s head whipped to the side. He was still for the longest time, until he finally lifted up his hand, and massaged his jaw, before letting his hand drop to his side, as if he had no intention of retaliating.
Edie knew better. It was just a matter of time before he dealt death like some macabre dealer at a haunted casino. So, she wasn’t surprised (but she was terrified) when Tristan lunged and grabbed Mason by the back of his coat. He hauled him toward the center of the gym, where Mason struggled to get away, but ultimately failed, being subdued by a sinisterly superior power.
The decorations that’d been terrorizing everyone suddenly lost all their vitality and collapsed on the floor, no longer a threat.
It was another’s time to be the center of attention now.
“Witness,” Tristan said, projecting his voice so everyone could hear, “the death of your beloved classmate.”
He forced Mason on his knees, keeping a firm, iron grip on his shoulder. Edie felt that same grip holding her in place, but she was the only one immobile. Everyone else advanced to stand in a circle, gathering around the executioner and his victim. Her friends were at the front lines, making hushed plans for a rescue. The rest made no such plans, but they weren’t enjoying this barbaric spectacle. They were silent, watching with wide eyes, afraid to make a move. Or in the case of Edie’s action-ready friends, being hindered by Tristan’s unseen control, as they failed to move beyond the invisible line Tristan had drawn.
Yes, it was all very, very real, and all very, very terrifying.
And it was more so because she’d lost the ability to move.
But now, by his will, he released her, and cleared a path through the crowd, so she could advance easily, front and center. Her legs were shaky, but she managed to steadily come forward, before halting a few feet away. She was afraid to look at Mason, but she did, and saw the fear in his eyes. He wasn’t afraid of Tristan or even death. He was fearful of the knowledge that he’d never see her again.
She wanted to tell him that he was wrong but that would’ve been a lie.
Tristan kept his grip on Mason, while staring at Edie with those dark, blue eyes, full of hate and joy at the same time.
“Come forward, Edie,” he summoned.
She did and rushed toward Mason, falling on her knees in front of him. “Mason?” She cupped his face in her hands. He was so cold. Tristan was killing him. “Mason?” she repeated, tears running down her face like a never-ending waterfall of sorrow and regret.
“I…love…you,” he finally managed to say, despite his teeth chattering.
Tristan’s grip was sending wave after wave of cold poison throughout Mason’s veins, freezing him to death. His body was stiffening. His skin was losing all color. And his eyes kept searching for hers, but he was blind, unable to find her.
“I’ll…always…love…you,” he said to her lips, instead.
They were still warm from the kiss he’d given her—their last kiss. She held Mason’s face gently in her hands, for as long as she could, until he couldn’t feel her anymore, and then she had to let go.
Tristan removed his cold hand from Mason’s shoulder, letting him fall ungracefully on the floor. His legs were still bent at the knees. His mouth was still open from the last words that he’d spoken.
His eyes were open, but they searched no more.
Mason was dead.
Chapter 28
Edie didn’t scream.
Rochelle did, who then covered her mouth in shock. Ravenna stood beside her, open-mouthed, as was Candie and the rest, students and teachers alike. Close, but at a distance, were Quinn, Jules, Diana, Madelyn, and Russell. No one dared to come near Edie or Mason, because of Tristan, who stood over the couple with a watchful, crazed eye.
Edie was holding onto Mason. He felt like an iceberg, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about much of anything right now. In fact, she wanted to die too.
She looked up at Tristan. “Let them go,” she said, indicating all the scared people around them.
He hesitated, and then lazily waved his hand in the air. “Done.”
The doors opened with a bang. No one hesitated and ran for their lives. Everyone fled, except her friends.
“Go,” she told them, choked up, as her sorrow stuck in her throat.
They wouldn’t leave. Their loyalty was endearing, but right now, she needed to be alone. If they found out what she was planning, they’d stop her. Tristan would stop her.
“Go,” she said with more force.
They refused, again, to turn around and leave. Instead Russell and Quinn stepped forward, blocking the girls from Tristan’s wrath.
“I’m not leaving,” Quinn said in a deep voice, full of defiance, as he folded his muscular arms over his chest.
“So this is the bastard who possessed me,” Russell said, appraising Tristan, and then gestured at his wardrobe. “Those are my clothes, you asshole.”
Tristan growled and advanced toward Russell, but suddenly Jules, Diana, and Madelyn stood in his way, forming a triad of determined girl power.
Jules put her hands on her hips. “Get lost, ghost boy.”
Diana and Madelyn flanked Jules, giving Tristan the coldest, hardest stare that Edie had ever seen. Tristan’s mouth stretched into a smile, but he wasn’t amused.
He turned toward Edie and held out his hand. “Take my hand and I’ll let the rest of your friends live.”
Despite that threat, Edie didn’t move. She didn’t want to leave Mason.
“Trust me,” he said, and then curled his fingers inward twice, beckoning her.
She denied him, again, and started tending to Mason. She straightened his stiff legs and placed him on his back. She closed his mouth and eyes, before securing his arms by his sides. There. Now he looked like he was sleeping. A hot tear fell down her face and landed on his cheek. He didn’t react. He wasn’t asleep. He was dead, and he’d never wake again.
Tristan sighed, aggravated. “Now,” he commanded, and snapped his fingers, impatient and angry.
She had no choice and took his hand, stifling the urge to crush his bones, or maybe bite his fingers off. Tristan lifted her off the floor, as if she weighed nothing, and then wrapped his arm around her waist, claiming her as his.
Her friends were shak
ing their heads, telling her this was a really, really bad idea.
Only Russell opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t, Edie,” he pleaded.
She noticed for the first time, a spark of lapis lazuli in his dark, gray eyes.
“I have to,” she objected softly.
I have to die. They couldn’t be told, not now, she remind herself, but she wanted them to know what she’d had to do, so they’d know Tristan was no longer a threat, and Lockhart Manor should never, ever be entered again.
Edie turned toward Jules. She’d miss those thick glasses. “There’s a reason why you could never go near Lockhart Manor,” Edie told her. “It was being protected by a good spirit to keep you and everyone else away. I just thought you should know.”
Edie hoped that Jules realized what she was trying to say. And not say. Edie wanted her to go to Lockhart Manor and somehow communicate with Arianna, so Jules and the rest would know where Edie was. And why she’d had to die, so that they could live.
Edie wasn’t looking for attention, for an acknowledgement of her sacrifice. She just wanted them to be aware of what’d happened and why they’d never see her again.
Jules nodded, but Edie wasn’t sure if she understood.
“Enough,” Tristan barked, then grabbed her hand, and tugged her away.
Again, she had no choice, and let him take her away, as she tried to drown out the sounds of her friends, pleading for her to return. At the exit, Edie stopped (and Tristan surprisingly indulged her) to look at Mason one last time, and then told her friends to watch over him, until he was taken away. Quinn assured her not to worry and they’d take care of him. She held back the urge to sob like a baby and finally left.
Tristan didn’t stop until they reached her car, where he let her go, to only allow her to unlock the doors and get inside. He slid into the passenger’s side, and she took her seat behind the wheel, figuring there was no use in jumping out and running away; he’d just catch her. She turned over the engine, letting the car warm up, and then she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked pale and lifeless. And she wasn’t even dead yet.
She felt around her neck and found her necklace; she’d bought another chain and had been wearing it all week. The tip of her finger traced the word Love written in rubies. She knew that it was an inanimate object, but it made her feel a little bit better, as she held it in her hand.
Tristan reached over and slapped her hand away, before taking it firmly in his own. “No more of that.” He brought her fingers to his cold lips and kissed each one, saying he was sorry. “Your caresses are only for me,” he said, explaining his earlier violence.
She let him hold her hand, but she refused to look at him. “Why’d you have to kill him?”
Tristan sighed loudly and threw her hand away, his earlier attempt at reconciliation forgotten. She placed her hand securely in her lap. “I told you, Edie!” He banged his fist against the interior of the door. “I told you to stay away from Mason, but you didn’t! His death is on your hands! What was I supposed to do, huh? Show leniency? No, no, no.” He shook his head and wagged his finger at her. “You know me better than anyone, Edie, and you knew I’d never go back on my word.” He pointed an angry finger at the open road. “Now drive.”
She hesitated, and then put the car in gear. Most of the cars in the lot had gone; tire marks still evident from when they’d flown away into the night, escaping a beautiful monster of immeasurable wrath. She envied them.
“Where to?” she asked with a perceptible sigh.
“Home,” he said vaguely, and then clarified it by continuing, “I need to have a little chat with my big brother.”
She’d been planning on going to Lockhart Manor too, but for a whole other reason. While Tristan and Adrian were having a little ghostly powwow, Edie would find Arianna, and hope that she still had that poisonous flower in her possession. If all went well, Edie was going to die—tonight. Maybe she’d see Mason or her parents. Or maybe she’d see no one at all.
She’d know soon enough just what “being dead” really meant.
She wanted to believe it was God’s purpose, her dying, but she found it hard to rejoice at her fate. She didn’t want to die, yet she had to. Why her? Why couldn’t someone else carry this burden? Was she special? Or was she just the unluckiest girl in the world?
At this moment of reflection, she heard her dad’s voice, saying: Well, you play the hand you’re dealt, and then her mom’s voice followed, saying: But try to be the one holding all the cards.
Sound advice, but sorry, mom, there was only one dealer in this no-win game.
And he was a corporeal ghost with anger management issues.
****
They arrived at Lockhart Manor, her new home.
Tristan led the way, walking along a path of moonlight toward the woods. She followed solemnly behind, until she had to stop, as Tristan came to an abrupt halt.
He cupped his mouth, and yelled, “Oh, brother! Dear, sweet, brother! Come out, come out wherever you are!”
She felt the change in temperature, going from cold to colder, as Adrian appeared, standing under the moonlight.
“It’s been a long time, brother,” Adrian said, as a way of greeting.
He’d changed back to his three-piece black suit. He looked so formal, as if he were attending a funeral. And he was—Edie’s.
Tristan gave his brother a wicked smile and held out his arms. “No hug?” He didn’t wait to be embraced and quickly lowered his arms. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t. You can’t touch me…or Edie for that matter.” He gestured at her. “Depressing, isn’t it, to want to touch another so badly, but can’t?” Demonstrating his superior power, Tristan grabbed her hand and kissed it with cold lips.
“We’ve touched,” Adrian informed, but didn’t sound boastful. “Only briefly and to help me leave the hospital,” he clarified for her reputation.
Tristan squeezed her hand and she winced, hurt. He turned toward her. “So…I wondered how he’d left. Ghosts, where they die, are trapped in that location.” He nodded with his chin at the manor. “Just as I was trapped in that wretched house, all alone,” he continued. “But the unseen can latch onto the living and leave.” He let go of her hand to caress her cheek with his thumb. “That’s what I did when I saw you. I had to be with you. You’re the love of my life, Edie.”
“Funny, you said the same thing to me.” The voice was familiar and feminine.
Tristan froze, wide-eyed, and then regained the use of his corporeal body to turn toward their new visitor. “Arianna,” he said softly.
His hand left Edie’s cheek and he advanced toward Arianna, forgetting entirely about Edie. She felt relieved, but concerned for Arianna. Adrian was too and went to stand by her side, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. At this display of love, Tristan halted, standing a few feet in front of her. He ignored his brother.
“Arianna,” he repeated, but in a sharper tone, full of hate. “You’ve been naughty, blocking Edie, conspiring against me.” He pointed a threatening finger at her. “You will not interfere with my happiness.”
Not frightened, Arianna merely cocked her transparent head to the side. “Happy?” she then questioned. “Are you happy, Tristan?”
“Overjoyed,” he said dryly, and then smiled, somewhat genuine. “Why shouldn’t I be?” He reached out for Edie’s hand. She hesitated, and then joined him, knowing there wasn’t much use for resistance. He pulled her to his side. “I’m with my soul mate. It’s Edie, not you, Arianna. I was a fool to think I was in love with you.”
“You’re right,” Adrian said, stepping protectively in front of Arianna. “You’re a fool. You’re coldhearted, hateful, deceitful, and a murderer, but I still love you, brother, despite your sins. I forgive you.”
But redemption was the furthest thing from Tristan’s mind.
He turned up his nose, and then spat on the ground, at Adrian’s feet. “I don’t need your forgiveness! I never loved y
ou! I never loved our parents!” He lifted his lips into a half smile, devilish. He looked like Lucifer himself; a beautiful mask covering the beast beneath, full of never-ending hate. “I killed them too, you know?” he said with glee.
Adrian gasped, wide-eyed. “No!” he exclaimed in disbelief.
Tristan widened his devilish smile. “I did. I extracted the poison from the Grimlock flower; when boiled, it turns clear and is undetectable. I used an entire plant and laced their food with it. How do you think, oh, dear brother, that they happened to die at almost the exact same time?” He shook his head. “It wasn’t old age. It wasn’t their time. I. Killed. Them.”
Arianna was holding onto Adrian’s hand, comforting him, but Edie didn’t think even she could calm the rage building up in her beloved.
Adrian was shaking his head. He tore his hand from Arianna’s grasp, and with his other, grabbed his head, clamping his eyes shut. “No, no! You cried at their funeral.”
“Crocodile tears, Adrian,” Tristan said. “It was merely an act, as was my declaration of love for you, and for Arianna.” He drew Edie closer against his cold body. “I finally found love, true love with her.” He kissed Edie’s cheek, and then pressed his lips to her ear, saying, “In time, you’ll love me back. I’m the only one for you, Edie. I’m the only one who understands you. You’ll find that out one day, my sweet. We’ll live happily ever after like in the stories, the great tales told generation after generation, ‘til the end of time.”
It was heartbreaking that someone so poetic could be so cruel. She imagined him as a villain, in the stories of old. Tormented, he was doing foul things for attention, because deep down, he feared being alone, and he was terrified that no one would ever love him.
Yet this basic human need wouldn’t save him. He would die because he’d done so much evil that he couldn’t be redeemed. No one would ever love Tristan because there was nothing to love. Edie was sure that God loved him because God loved everyone, even when he was disappointed in them. Like a parent with a wayward child, this love never faded, but was fixed, even when all hope seemed lost.
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