I start toward the cafeteria, and Dana is at my side in an instant. She reaches for my hand, but I shake her off.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding wounded.
My irritation is getting the best of me. I know what I should do—what Krissa would want me to do. I should shrug off my mood and pretend like everything is okay. But I can’t do it today. Keeping up appearances is taking its toll. “You know, I can’t help but notice how comfortable you seem using those psychic abilities.”
She draws back her shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking,” she grumbles. “I should thank my lucky stars and kiss Krissa’s ass since she’s the reason I’m psychic again.”
I sigh, already regretting having brought it up. “That’s not what I’m thinking.”
Her shoulders droop and her mouth settles into a pout. “Well, it’s my best guess since you’re wearing that.” She points at the hemp bracelet on my left wrist. “It’s just like the one she wears.”
It’s just like Krissa’s because she helped me make it, but I’m not going to tell Dana that. “I don’t know why you’re surprised it’s similar. I doubt there are many spells that block a mind from being read. I knew this would work, so it’s the spell I chose.”
Dana crosses her arms over her chest, somehow managing to accentuate her bust in the process. There was a time when such a move would have distracted me, but not now. “I don’t see why you need it.”
There are so many reasons I don’t want Dana reading my thoughts, but the thing that pushed it over the edge was Krissa’s insistence on the secrecy surrounding our relationship.
Dana doesn’t seem to expect me to respond. “You never needed something like that when you were dating her.”
I stop walking. We’re barely two yards from the commons, but I can’t take another step. I’m so sick of this—so sick of Dana comparing every aspect of our relationship to the one I had with Krissa. I’m tired of her thinking the world revolves around her. “First of all,” I begin as Dana turns to face me, “I didn’t even know she was psychic. I didn’t find that out until a few months ago. And second—not everything is about you. You didn’t bitch about not being able to read my thoughts before Krissa sacrificed herself to the Influence. Just because you can get into my head now doesn’t mean I want you there.”
Her eyes are wide. I know I’ve hurt her, and deeply. But I don’t give her a chance to reply. I storm into the commons, feeling only mildly guilty for what I’ve said. Maybe it makes me an awful person, but I can’t take it anymore. Living this double life is getting too hard. Something needs to change.
Chapter Sixteen
Krissa
I find myself in the strange moments between sleep and wakefulness. Memories of a dream play just beyond my awareness. I think it was a good dream. I’m happy, relaxed.
But why am I asleep? The last thing I remember, it was just after school.
A thread of panic weaves itself into my consciousness. Why can’t I recall anything after school ended?
It takes more effort than it should to open my eyes, and when I do, I close them again, convinced I must still be dreaming.
I’m lying on a bed, but I’m not in my room. I’m not even in my house. Still, this place is familiar. I’ve been here before. Most of the space is dominated by the queen-size mattress I’m lying on. The bifold closet doors are cracked open, and some wadded-up T-shirts are escaping through the gap at the bottom. A bedside table to my right is streaked with dust in a way that suggests whatever was on it was hastily swept away to give the appearance of cleanliness.
I sit up. This is Fox’s bedroom. Why on earth am I here? Why don’t I remember arriving? And even if I do have a perfectly valid reason for being at Fox’s house, it doesn’t explain why I’m in his room. I quickly take stock of myself. All my clothes are on, which is a relief—or at least as much of one as anything can be, given the rest of the situation.
Before I can figure anything else out, the door swings open to reveal Fox, shirtless and smiling, carrying a plate topped with slices of cold pepperoni pizza and a glass of water.
My first instinct is to ask what I’m doing here, but I fight it. Fox isn’t surprised by my presence, and I need to figure out why. How long have I been here? Why did I come?
And why, oh why isn’t Fox wearing a shirt?
He settles on the mattress and situates the plate between us. “Okay, now can we continue?”
I stare at him, completely at a loss for what to say. Continue what? Whatever activity led to his current state of undress? Did he spill something on it in the kitchen? Or was he like that before he left this room? The icy weight of dread settles in my stomach. Did I take it off him?
I rub the pads of my thumbs over my fingertips as my eyes trace the lines of his chest and abdomen. Am I imagining things, or do these hands already know what his skin feels like?
Fox releases a soft chuckle. “You’re not getting out of this conversation that easily. Do I need to put my shirt back on so you can concentrate?” He takes a sip from the glass before handing it to me. I glance at the table. Does he want me to set the glass down? His eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I thought you said you were thirsty.”
I hastily take a few gulps of water. If he got this glass for me, why did he take a sip? That’s not something friends do—it’s too intimate.
A thought begins forming in the back of my mind, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. I think I know what’s happening, but—no. I can’t accept it.
“Look,” he says, his voice soft, “I get that coming clean will have consequences, but I think it’s best for everyone involved.” A corner of his mouth twitches. “If I’m honest, I can’t believe we’ve kept it secret for this long. I thought for sure Griffin figured it out, but if he hasn’t said anything to you, I doubt he has.”
My mind is spinning. What could Griffin have to do with this?
“I understand you don’t want Dana and Owen to get hurt, but what you don’t see is we’re already hurting them. The longer we keep this going without telling them, the more it will hurt when they do find out. Dana and I are almost constantly fighting. She wants more from me than I can give her because I don’t love her. I love—”
I stand up. I can’t hear him say it.
Am I cheating on Owen? How long has this been going on? And how could Fox ever have agreed to this? Does he miss his relationship with the girl I used to be so much he’s willing to think I’m the kind of person who would be unfaithful to her boyfriend?
Fox stands, too, his eyebrows drawn together. “Is something wrong?”
I could almost laugh at the question. Is something wrong? No, not something—everything. I can’t stay here any longer. I have to get away. My agitation grows by the second, and if I don’t leave soon, I’m afraid the Influence will make an appearance. If it does, will I simply fall back into Fox’s arms—or will it be the darker, more dangerous flavor of the power that takes over? What if I do something to hurt Fox? I don’t want to think about it. I can’t.
I need to get home. I know I have to tell Fox what’s happening to me, but I have no idea how to explain. How long will it take to try? How long until he believes me? What if, in the middle of it, the Influence takes over again? I can’t have that. I can’t risk staying here.
“I got a text from my parents while you were in the kitchen. They need me home now.” It’s a lame lie, but it’s the best I can come up with.
“Did something happen?”
I start for the door. “I don’t know. They just want me home.” I hesitate before stepping into the hallway. What if someone else is here? But I dismiss the idea. Who else would be here? Griffin has his own apartment, and their dad is usually on the road for work.
By the time I make it into the hall, Fox is at my heels. “Aren’t you going to take your bike?”
I stop in the middle of the living room. Of course I didn’t drive her. If I’m here in secret, I wouldn’t want my car sitt
ing in the driveway. I cut through the dining room to get to the side door in the kitchen. Sure enough, my bicycle is parked beside the house.
I feel Fox’s eyes on me as I mount the bike. “We have to face this sooner or later. Think about it, but know I can’t keep lying forever.”
Unsure of how to respond, I place my feet on the pedals and start down the driveway.
The tears don’t start falling until I’m around the block. What’s happening to me? Am I leading a secret life—one even I don’t know about? How long has this been going on?
And how will I ever explain this to Owen? I have to, I know that. Fox is at least right on that point. Whatever has been going on between the two of us needs to come to light, but not so Fox and I can be together. Owen needs to know the truth, but the thought of telling him makes my blood run cold. How could he ever forgive me? I don’t even know for sure what’s been going on with Fox, but it’s safe to assume it hasn’t been innocent. Owen has been so caring, so understanding—so patient. He hasn’t pushed me about anything, even though I’m certain there are things he’s wanted to push me on. He’s rubbed my back, held my hand, given me a shoulder to lean against. How will he react when he finds out I may have been giving so much more to Fox?
The tears are coming so fast now that I have to stop the bike so I don’t crash. How many things will the Influence steal from me before I’m finally rid of it?
Chapter Seventeen
Brody
I hate that I’ve had to resort to lurking.
I was confident Krissa would have reconsidered and accepted my offer by now. But she hasn’t, and it’s making me nervous. I can’t come back to Jade empty-handed.
That’s why, even though I feel like a stalker, I’m sitting in my parked car down the street from Fox Holloway’s house. I followed Krissa here over an hour ago. I toyed with the idea of shielding my presence from onlookers and getting closer to the house to see if I could determine what’s going on, but prudence keeps me in my seat. If Krissa senses my presence, there’s no telling what the Influence will make her do. I saw how angry she was when she caught a glimpse of me on Main the other day, and I wasn’t even trying to follow her then.
I bang my hand against the steering wheel. She has all that rage and darkness inside her. How is she content to stay here in her tiny life in Clearwater? From my research, the one constant I have seen in those possessed by the Influence is they love power and control. They’re violent to the extreme. The Amaranthine would feed both those desires. She has to know that.
Perhaps she’s more interested in feeding desires of another kind. This isn’t the first time I’ve followed her to Fox’s house. Publicly, she appears to be with Owen, but something different is going on in private.
There’s movement in the Holloways’ driveway, then Krissa comes speeding down on her bike. For a moment I’m worried she might notice me, but as she draws near, it’s clear she’s too upset to notice much of anything. I wait till she passes, then start the engine and follow her as she rounds the corner.
I’m careful to stay behind her. Upset must be an understatement: Even from my angle, I can tell she’s wiping away tears.
She travels only about a block before coming to a stop. Her shoulders shake and she covers her face with her hands. Slowly, I pull the car up so I’m even with her. What could have happened to make her behave like this? Did she unwittingly do something to hurt Fox? If that’s the case, maybe she’s closer to accepting my offer than I thought.
I consider getting out of the car and approaching her, but now is probably not the most opportune time. Maybe I can wait until tomorrow—perhaps even later tonight. I only brought the one picture of Owen, so if I want to cast another summoning spell, I’ll need to figure out a different element to put inside the circle.
I’m so preoccupied with making my plans that I don’t notice someone approach my car. When knuckles wrap on the window beside me, it’s all I can do to keep from jumping. It’s Krissa. Her cheeks are tear-stained and her face is red, but her eyes aren’t filled with sadness—they’re filled with rage. I don’t like that look, but I open my door and step out onto the street anyway.
“What, are you stalking me now?” she snaps. “How many times to I have to tell you: I’m not interested in your offer. You might as well leave town. Stop skulking around, watching me, like some sort of pervert.”
I try not to let it show on my face that my actions have left me feeling like exactly the kind of person she’s describing. But I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for days. I’ve run through a scenario like this dozens of times in my mind, and I know exactly what to say. “You’re not interested in the least? Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Why do you insist on pretending you’re a normal person with a normal life? What’s inside you is extraordinary. Instead of fighting it, why not use it?”
Her eyes narrow. “You want me to use it?” Her voice is a low growl. Something in her eyes shifts. The anger from moments ago disappears, replaced by a kind of vacant glassiness that chills me to my core. Her lip curls like an animal’s snarl.
Something’s not right. This isn’t a deeper level of anger; it’s something different, something far darker. I pass my hand from side to side in front of her face, but her gaze doesn’t follow it. It’s like she can’t even see me anymore. I need to get away from her. I’m not the kind of person whose fight-or-flight reflex often leans toward the latter option, but now I know it’s my only chance. I reach behind me for the door handle, but before my fingers gain purchase, her hand darts forward, covering my chest. She curls her fingers, digging her nails through my shirt and into my flesh.
She’s going to rip out my heart. I don’t know why the wild thought flies into my mind, but once it’s there, I can’t deny its veracity. There’s no doubt in my mind the Influence has taken her over and she means to kill me. I need to move, fight back, do something—but I’m frozen. She’s cast some kind of spell over me that keeps me from getting away from her.
My skin stings as her nails break it. For someone so small, she’s incredibly strong. But the strength isn’t coming from her, of course—this is all the Influence.
Pressure continues to build on the spot over my heart. I’ve never given much thought to how I’ll die, but even if I had, this scenario never would have occurred to me. To have my heart ripped out by someone so young, a near novice in the ways of magic, would have been unthinkable. But this is no ordinary girl, and this is no ordinary magic.
I can’t move my head to look down, but I’m positive her fingertips have burrowed their way into my chest. The pain is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. Maybe I’ll be lucky and pass out from the pain before she manages to get to my heart.
Then Krissa pulls her hand away and takes a step back, gasping like she’s coming up for breath after being submerged in water. When her eyes raise to meet mine, the glassy expression is gone, replaced by a terror so complete it almost affects me. “If you value your life, you should go now,” she says, her voice quiet.
I don’t need to be told twice. Finally able to control my body again, I open my car door and slide behind the passenger seat. I don’t bother to put the seatbelt on before I peel off down the street, desperate to get some space between her and me.
She’s more unpredictable than I imagined she would be, but at least I’m starting to understand why: She’s fighting it. I suppose it makes sense, in a way. In all the other accounts I’ve found, people under Influence willingly allowed it to inhabit them. Krissa may have let it in, but only to keep it out of her friends. It was never her intention to use it.
I’m actually relieved she’s fighting it—if she weren’t, I’d be dead right now.
It’s possible I’ve miscalculated. Maybe Krissa isn’t the right fit to become our assassin. But how can I go back and tell that to Jade? If I fail, Lena will no doubt be right there, pushing her list of potential candidates. If that happens, there’s no way I’ll ever become high
priest.
Krissa has to be the assassin. I just need to figure out how to turn her into one.
Chapter Eighteen
Krissa
My heart finally stops racing by the time I make it home. As I wheel my bike back to the garage, my mind is spinning. What’s going on with me? I could have killed Brody. The idea doesn’t horrify me nearly as much as it should, and my stomach twists. The Influence is getting stronger every day. What happens the next time it takes over? Will I be able to stop myself before I do something terrible?
I pull my phone from my back pocket and text Owen as I walk toward the house. I need to see him. I know I need to tell him about everything that happened today—not just with Brody, but with Fox—but I’m not sure I can. I’m still not sure how to explain what’s been happening with Fox. I don’t even have all the details. All I know is Owen is the one who chases the Influence away, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
My phone buzzes as I cross the threshold. I’m caught up with family, but I’ll be done soon.
I sigh with relief. Good. Come over as soon as you can.
I close the back door with a little more force than is strictly necessary, and my mom, who happens to be entering the hall at the same moment, clutches at her chest.
“Krissa! I wasn’t expecting you home for dinner. I thought you and Bria would be studying for your finals for at least another hour?” She tilts her head and scrutinizes me as I walk toward her. “Are you okay? You look a little… upset.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” It’s the lie of the century, but what am I supposed to do? Tell her the truth? There’s no way she would be able to handle it. It’s kind of an unwritten rule that we don’t tell Mom any more than we have to. Lately, I get the sense Jodi is keeping things from my dad, too. I don’t blame her, exactly. My parents are getting a second chance at their marriage after five years apart. Hell, they’re even planning to renew their vows this summer. They’re walking around in a kind of honeymoon daze half the time. I don’t want to be the one to kill that buzz. I need to be reminded there’s still good in the world, and I think Jodi gets that.
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