A Demon's Kiss (Young Adult Romance)

by Melanie Marks

  I slid down in my seat. “Yikes!”

  For not wanting to talk about Summer, I’d sure talked about her a whole, whole lot. I decided to change the subject. “What kind of music do you like?”

  Logan glanced at me a moment, then popped in a C.D. It was Metallica. I smiled, “No way!”

  “They rock!” he said.

  “Yeah, they rock,” I agreed, still staring at him in amazement. Logan was a Metallica fan?

  This could be love.

  ***

  We ate at a fancy French restaurant that I couldn’t pronounce the name of to save my life. And it was expensive! And fancy. It had valet parking and everything.

  Once we were inside, I looked around the dimly lit room with fascination, and butterflies.

  “Are you sure you want to eat here?” I asked, knowing how much this was going to run him—well, not really. I had no clue, but I knew it would be tons. And sure, I figured it would be kind of exciting and fun (knowing Summer would drool when she heard) and I knew Logan was rich. But I liked him already, he didn’t have to impress me. Plus, I was worried my table manners weren’t up to snuff. At home we ate off of paper plates as often as not, and what about the silverware? I knew there would be two forks—the smaller one for the salad. But what else did I need to know?

  The question had me stressing. Plus, all the tables were lit by candlelight. What if I spazzed out and accidently started the place on fire?

  Logan had a teasing gleam in his eyes. He grinned, “I thought we should stay away from sea-food.”

  Ha! I couldn’t help grinning back. “Why? You have something against emergency rooms?”

  He shook his head slightly, looking serious. “I just thought you might like going to the dance.”

  I blinked, feeling butterflies again. He couldn’t possibly know how much I wanted to go. I’d never been to a school dance, never, ever. And I know it sounds lame, but I’d secretly always wanted to. Of course, I’d always fantasized that it would be with Gage. But still, going to the dance—it was huge. To me.

  I chewed on my lip, glad that the hostess chose that moment to tunnel in on us. “Your table is ready,” she said, expecting us to follow her, so we did, and I didn’t have to say anything.

  The meal was yum, and Logan was fun, as we talked, I discovered he liked the same things as me. The same things: my favorite bands, my favorite video games, the guitar. By the end of the meal, I was drooling.

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asked as he ordered us a chocolate soufflé to share for dessert.

  “Because I love you!” I was tempted to blurt, but I held it inside. Because, because I wasn’t really sure that’s how I felt. I mean, I’m sure I would have felt that way if Gage hadn’t whispered in my ear all tender and sweet, “Don’t back off.” But he did whisper it, and really, I loved Gage. I did. There was no denying that, so it seemed wrong to tell Logan, “I love you,” when really I loved Gage. But it was confusing, because I had strong feelings for Logan, like a crush or something.

  But I wouldn’t have told him I loved him anyway. I heard girls aren’t supposed to do that, get all gushy; it scares guys off. And even if I hadn’t heard that, I wouldn’t have done it anyway, probably, I don’t think, I’m not really the gushy type.

  After we finished eating, I realized I’d forgotten my wrap in the restaurant. It was beautiful and Izzie’s. So...Logan went back in to get it, and I stayed in the car, looking for his cell phone. I wanted to call Izzie and tell her where I ate, and what I ate. She had said she wanted details, right?

  I opened Logan’s glove box. But I didn’t find his cell phone. I forgot all about it, instantly. ‘Cause instead I found pictures, tons and tons of pictures. My blood ran cold as I gazed at them in horror. The pictures—they were all …

  Of me.

  I stared at them, confused. What?

  Why?

  They were all candid shots. Different ones. Of me playing the guitar, laughing with Izzie, crossing the street. There was so many. It was crazy.

  Rifling through them, I only found one that wasn’t of me. It was old, and worn thin. It was of a young boy smiling. He was around seven or eight with jet-black hair, and startling green eyes. It was obviously Logan. He had his arm around a girl about the same age. Maybe younger. She grinned happily into the camera.

  “Smile pretty for momma!”

  The words floated through my brain. I looked closer at the picture, studied it. Slowly, a chill ran through me.

  The little girl—was me.

  CHAPTER 16

  I scrambled out of Logan’s Mustang. What was going on? I had no idea, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I could feel it, knew it down to my bones.

  Logan had all those pictures of me, all those pictures, like he was stalking me, hunting me. And it didn’t start the night he came into Posh, the night he bought that dress, he had pictures from before that night. It was like he had been following me around a long, long time, watching, taking pictures—picture after picture after picture—pictures of me with Gage, pictures of me with Izzie, picture, picture, picture, picture. I had to get away.

  Hide, hide, hide!

  The trouble was, as I was scrambling out of Logan’s Mustang, Logan came back. He had Izzie’s wrap in one hand and a red rose in the other. When he saw me making my escape, he furrowed his brow, then darted after me. Agghhhh! My heart exploded in my chest.

  I took off in a full run, but Logan caught me around the waist before I left the parking lot. Stupid shoes!

  “Let me go!” I clawed at him, trying to break free of his strong grip, but it was no use. He just tightened his hold, hurting me. I kicked at him, screaming, “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

  He just shook his head, looking grim. And bewildered. “Why are you afraid of me now? What happened?” He held onto my shoulders, making me look into his eyes. “Michaela, why are you running away?”

  It made me sick to say it. I didn’t want to say it, but he seemed to have some power over me, “The pictures—”

  “Pictures?” He narrowed his eyes, looking confused. Then he set his jaw, seeming to get it. I’d seen his whacked-out photo collection of me.

  I was still trying to get away from him, clawing and tugging and scratching. But he held on to me as though he didn’t even notice my resistance. His jaw was still set as he stared at me with hard, dark eyes.

  I clawed at him, angry and frightened, “Why do you have all those pictures?”

  Logan didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged me toward his car. But no way was I getting back in that thing. Not with him. Not ever. No way.

  “I mean it, Logan,” I warned. “Let me go!”

  He grabbed both my shoulders again, making me look up at him. “Or what?!”

  I looked into his eyes—they were challenging, and full of pain. I didn’t want to hurt him. I really didn’t. But I would, if I had to. He was trapping me, scaring me. I would do whatever I had to do to get away, even if it meant using my powers.

  Logan shook his head in resignation, letting me go. “Take my car then,” he said softly. Then he added, “You have until tomorrow.”

  I froze.

  Until tomorrow for what?

  I didn’t ask though. With my pulse racing, I shot away, making a B-line toward his car. The keys were still in the ignition. In fact, the car was still idling. I dashed for it in a panic, unable to grasp anything that had just happened. He was letting me go? Free? I didn’t have to fight him?

  “Tomorrow at sunrise,” he called after me.

  His words made no sense. Shaking, I got into his car. The tires screeched as I sped away. And there Logan stood, at the end of the parking lot, watching me go. Why’d he do that? Why’d he let me leave? Take his car? I glanced over at the pile of pictures that were now scattered all over his Mustang’s floor. What was going on?

  CHAPTER 17

  When I pulled into our driveway, I didn’t know what to do. I stared over at Gage’s house.
It was dark, empty. He’d said that he was going to the game with his family, as a distraction, since now he wasn’t going to the dance.

  The dance. How weird. If I hadn’t stumbled on those nut-job pictures, I’d be at the dance right now. With a maniac. Shivers ran through my body anew, making me shake all over.

  “Chill,” I told myself.

  But it didn’t stop the shaking. I’d never stop shaking.

  You have until tomorrow. What did that mean? Why did Logan say it?

  My house was dark and empty too, just like Gage’s. I didn’t want to go in. But I had nowhere else to go. Izzie had said something about a wild art exhibit she was crashing with her art friends. She’d be there by now, definitely. I didn’t know where it was. If I did, I’d go there. I’d go anywhere. I was scared. I didn’t want to be alone.

  But finally, I got out of Logan’s car. I went in the house and turned on all the lights. And the television. Then I went upstairs and crawled into bed. I threw the covers over my head, and willed myself to go to sleep. I didn’t want to think. Not about anything. But I had too much haunting my brain, too many questions screaming. Scary questions. Why did Logan have all those pictures of me? He was like, obsessed, deranged. A chill ran through me. Too, too creepy.

  And what about that picture of me when I was a little girl? What about that? I couldn’t remember anything about my past. Nothing before I came to live with Beth. Nothing. But Logan—he was obviously part of my past. He knew me...before. A shiver ran through my body so violent I had to get up.

  Keeping my comforter wrapped around me, I changed into a pair of sweats and a big sweatshirt, and warm woolen socks. Then I jumped back into bed. But it was no use. I couldn’t get warm. I lay in my bed, shivering.

  What had he said about tomorrow? I had until sunrise? Then what?

  ***

  I must have fallen asleep, I guess, but only for a second. It couldn’t have been much longer. But it sort of felt like a life-time ago. I had the most horrible, horrific dream. The Cloaked People—they were coming, hunting, calling my name. But they weren’t just looking for me. They were looking for a boy too. A boy named Logan.

  It was too spooky. No way was I going back to sleep, not in this lifetime. I hopped out of bed and grabbed my diary. I used to write in it all the time. Writing my fears out—it always helped calm me down. But I hadn’t written in it lately, not in a long time. Only I needed to write in it now. Had to. I had so many questions, so many fears. I needed to write them all out.

  But as I flipped through the pages, searching for the blank portion of my diary, I inadvertently skimmed stuff I’d already written. Stuff that made my hair stand on end. What the …?!

  Horrified, I flipped back, reading more intently.

  My blood ran cold.

  It was the stuff I’d written at the beginning of the school year, stuff I’d somehow forgotten. Completely. It was as though it had been erased from my mind, totally blocked out, somehow.

  But...I remembered it now. All of it. It was like suddenly I was living the nightmare all over again.

  PART 2

  THE BEGINNING

  CHAPTER 18

  September 25

  As soon as I got to school this morning I knew it was a big mistake. I’ve been out with mono. Believe it or not, I came back despite Beth’s orders for me to stay home. The thing is, it had been weeks since I left my house. I wanted to be around people again. But now that I was here, being swept along the crowded halls I knew I wasn’t up for it. Healthy people are loud. And the sun is really bright.

  My head was throbbing.

  I decided to just hang at the school’s library. There I wouldn’t have to be alone, but it would be quiet. Maybe I could sleep at a table. I decided to drop my books off first. But when I got to my locker there was a guy at it, fiddling with the combination. Seeing him, I took a deep breath. I’ve had my locker broken into a lot lately. I didn’t feel up to a fight, physical or otherwise. Still, what could I do? There he was, about to break in right in front of me.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I asked with a lot more force than I actually felt. The truth was, my world was dimming. I was going down, I was pretty sure.

  The guy looked up at me, and I got a glimpse of his startling green eyes. For some reason, seeing them stopped my heart, cold, dead. Seriously. Then it took off, thundering like a horse on steroids.

  What the...?

  Staggering, I took a step away from the guy.

  He seemed to notice. He grinned, seeming amused.

  “Hi,” he said. “You Michaela Tolley?”

  I nodded, not able to speak, just squinting up into his disturbingly familiar face.

  “Yeah, I’m Michaela,” I finally managed to choke out, getting lost in his eyes, panicked and confused. “Who are you?”

  Something about the guy terrified me, totally, wasn’t sure what though. He was good looking, gorgeous even—big with jet-black hair—he could be a model. But something about his eyes, his grin; they spooked me. They made me sense I’d seen him before. My head was reeling though. I couldn’t make myself focus on where or when. Still, I was positive this wasn’t our first encounter.

  “I’m Logan Michaels,” he said, and even his name sounded familiar. “I’m your new locker partner.”

  I blinked.

  “Locker partner?”

  The phrase wasn’t exactly foreign to me. I’d been assigned to share lockers with a girl back in the seventh grade. But I was a junior now. Juniors don’t have to share lockers. Still, that’s not what had me so distracted. It was the guy. There was something evil about him. Something I should know, but couldn’t make myself remember.

  Logan shoved his black hair out of his face, eyeing me like I was a shiny new toy he was itching to play with, his gaze flicking quickly to various parts of my body, then back into my eyes, like I was a piece of candy and he was really, really hungry. Like it was taking great effort for him not to pounce.

  But he went on talking as though he was an ordinary guy and we were having an ordinary conversation. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, still holding his hair out of his eyes. “The lady at the office, she said there’s not enough lockers—a shortage or something. She said to share with you.”

  A shortage? I hadn’t heard about a shortage. Of course, I’d been out for weeks. Years, it felt like. Still, no way had things changed that much...had they? This wasn’t real. None of this felt real. Still, I went on talking:

  “She said to share with me? Why me?”

  Logan shrugged, obviously trying to appear casual, but his eyes were still on me. They looked ravenous. He moved in close, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my neck, right by my ear. “You’re just lucky, I guess.”

  My stomach fluttered. Fluttered! What the …?

  I jumped away from him, confused and scared...and slightly turned on. A little bit. It’s just, he was so close, and gazing into my eyes all seductive and I want you like and murmuring in my ear all intense. Plus, for some reason, I was suddenly totally, totally aware he was yummy hot. I mean, I noticed before, kind of, slightly, but I was more keen to being terrified of him, as he was evil and somehow I knew it; his hotness didn’t really register. But his warm breath tickling my neck got it to register, register big time.

  I gulped, trying to get my hormones in check. Wake up, Michaela! The guy is scary. He was, I knew he was. But why? How?

  Where do I know him from? Where do I know him from? Where, Where, Where? The question kept rolling around in my head, bugging me, but it was no use. I couldn’t think. My brain was like oatmeal, all mushy and thick.

  Logan leaned against my locker, gazing at me, drinking in my every move.

  I took another step away from him.

  He wets his lips, eyeing the space between us, then his gaze flicked back up to me, his eyes staring into mine, seeming to try to tell me something, but whatever it was, I wasn’t getting it, I wanted to run. Finally he wet his lips again. “The
lady at the office, she said you were in a coma. Feeling better?”

  Feeling better? I felt chilled. I felt as if a person were to touch me I’d crumble into a thousand pieces. But gazing at him, I got the feeling he already knew.

  Logan wets his lips again. “You look better.”

  My heart stopped. “What?”

  His transparent eyes stared into mine. “I like the sun in your hair. It shines.”

  I stepped further away, ready to run. “Who are you?”

  The bell rang and he gave me a sad smile. The way he did it, so full of longing, hurled me into an attack of violent shivers. Suddenly I knew where I’d seen him before. Suddenly, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Chills ran through my shaking body. He was the guy from my nightmares, the demon in the hooded cloak.

  Only today it was different, totally different. Today I wasn’t in a cave. There were no symbols, no candles, no scary cloaked people. I was at school and it was bright and sunny. The only people were students—hordes and hordes of normal teenagers—pushing and yelling and laughing. This guy, this demon, didn’t belong here. It was daylight and I was awake…. Wasn’t I awake?

  Logan’s smile broadened. “See ya Michaela,” he said, and then he was gone, vanishing into the crowd, and I was left shivering and sick, watching him go.

  For a moment I simply stood still, unable to bring myself to move. Was that really him? Come from my nightmares? Or did I make that part up? I’d been so sick, I still was. Maybe my fever was causing hallucinations. Maybe he was just a new kid with dark hair and gorgeous eyes and I was just really ill. Maybe I was having delusional episodes. It was possible. I’d heard fevers can do crazy things to people’s minds.

  But no. It was him. The guy from my nightmares. It was him and he’d come to get me. What was strange was, deep down I always knew this would happen. I knew they would find me.

  Suddenly two hands grabbed me around the waist and I was hurled in the air. My heart stopped beating, I swear, I almost died from the shock. But it was only my friend Conner and this was nothing new. He was always picking me up and swinging me around. It was like I was his favorite rag doll.