Coldhearted (9781311888433) Page 20

  She found her voice. “Tristan,” she growled, and slapped his hand away. “I thought you were going to leave Russell alone.”

  Russell/Tristan’s face darkened. “Now why would I do that?”

  “What will it take for you to leave him alone?”

  Russell/Tristan thought on that question, and then replied, “A kiss.”

  “Here?” she asked, worried.

  Russell/Tristan grinned again. “Well, well, Edie, that’s interesting. You didn’t refuse to kiss me. You were just worried about being seen.”

  She bit her lip, mad at herself, and then asked, “Why should I trust you? If I kiss you, you’ll just demand more. And why do you want to kiss me anyway? You want me dead.”

  Russell/Tristan looked confused. “Dead? I don’t want you dead.”

  “Then why’d you tattoo that morbid design over my heart?”

  His eyebrow shot up. “You really are dense sometimes, Edie.” He stood up. “Now kiss me and not only will I leave Rusty—for good—but I’ll also undo all of this,”—he gestured at the somewhat subdued chaos inside the restaurant—“and make it as if it’d never happened.”

  Edie stood up too, a bit shaky from the head wound. “You can do that?”

  Russell/Tristan grasped her arms and pulled her against his chest. “I can. Now close your eyes.”

  She hesitated but eventually did.

  “Now open them.”

  Again, she hesitated, afraid of what she was going to see, but then she did, and discovered that they were no longer inside the restaurant. They were inside the bedroom that she’d seen before in her dream.

  “You want more than a kiss,” she accused.

  “I want a lot of things,” Russell/Tristan said. “But for now, I’ll settle for your lips on mine.”

  Edie knew that he wouldn’t keep his word, but she licked her lips and prepared herself anyway.

  “Kiss like you mean it, Edie,” he warned in a husky voice.

  She imagined that she was looking up at Mason, at his sweet face and dimples, and went for it, kissing Tristan like a wild woman. Her tongue danced with his, but it was a dance of deception, for she was playing a part, and thought that she was doing it rather well.

  Russell/Tristan was pressing her to him, and she could feel every outline of Russell’s manly body. What was strange was when they’d first started, he’d been cold—cold as she knew that Tristan always was—but now…well, now he was hot—hotter than the sun.

  She pulled away and gasped. They were no longer inside a bedroom. They were inside the restaurant. Everyone else was seated, but no one was staring. Well, they weren’t staring at Edie. They were frozen, paralyzed. Their eyes were glued to a spot in space, unaware of time. She whirled and found Mason, sitting at their booth. His hand was extended across the table, waiting to meet hers.

  “Edie?” a man’s deep voice called out.

  She turned back and found Russell, looking dazed, again. He licked his lips. “We were kissing. Why were we kissing?” He looked around the restaurant. “And why is everyone…I don’t know…stuck in time or something?”

  Edie reached up and felt the back of her head. The knot was gone. Either Tristan could manipulate time or her mind. She voted for the latter. He was making her think everyone was paralyzed. Then again, Russell was witnessing it too. Of course Tristan could possess him completely.

  She felt something in her other hand and looked down. It was Russell’s wallet. She didn’t know how it’d made its way to her when Russell had tossed it on the floor, earlier.

  “Here, you left this,” she said to Russell.

  When their hands made contact, she felt a shock like static electricity, and then the room buzzed to life, almost deafening her from the sudden rush. Her ears popped next and with the ability to acutely hear once again, the noise was almost too much.

  “Edie?” The voice was male, but less deep.

  She turned to see Mason, looking confused, as he withdrew his hand from atop the table.

  “Mr. B came back to find his wallet,” she said, which was true. She turned back toward Russell and forced a smile. “See you in school tomorrow.”

  Russell tucked the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. “Uh, Edie, can we talk outside?”

  “No, she can’t,” Mason said, trying to protect her reputation.

  Edie held up her hand. “It’s okay. Two minutes.”

  Mason opened his mouth to protest, but Edie was already leading Russell outside.

  When they were secluded, without being overheard, she said to Russell, “You’re wrong. We weren’t kissing. And obviously those people weren’t stuck in time. I think that you’re tired. You need to get some sleep.”

  Russell briefly closed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll admit, I need sleep, and everyone being stuck in time is like out of some sci-fi movie, but Edie I know we kissed.” He licked his lips. “I can taste your lip balm.”

  Edie forced a laugh. “Do you really think we kissed in front of everyone, in front of Mason, my boyfriend? Come on, now,” she said, trying to influence his mind.

  He rubbed at his forehead now. “But it seemed so real.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. So…I’d better get back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Russell didn’t move. He was looking at her, at her lips. “Maybe we did. Maybe we didn’t. But right now, as wrong as it is, I want to kiss you.”

  “That’s not you talking,” she said, nervous, her heart pounding.

  “It is me, Edie,” he said, staring into her eyes. “I’m not your teacher right now. I’m a man who craves the touch and taste of a woman.”

  Stunned by his admission, she said in a meek voice, “I’m seventeen,” reminding him of laws and morals.

  He advanced and cupped her cheek. “I don’t care. And you’re a woman to me.”

  She didn’t retreat from his touch, but said, “I have a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You could go to jail.”

  “I don’t care.” He traced the outline of her lips with his warm thumb. “I don’t care, Edie,” he repeated passionately.

  Coming to her senses, she now retreated out of his reach. “You’re willing to throw your entire life away for me?” She chuckled, nervous. “I’m not that pretty.”

  Russell took one cautious step forward, and then halted, afraid of chasing her away. “I can’t explain it but ever since I first met you, I can’t stop thinking about you. At first, it was care and concern, the need to protect, but now…well, now it’s more than that. It’s desire, a physical desire. I want you, and yes, I’m willing to risk everything to have you.”

  “Russell…you-you shouldn’t trust what you feel.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated, and then let it all (well, most of it) out, saying, “Because you’re being possessed by a ghost. His name is Tristan Lockhart. He’s attached himself to me. That’s why at Lockhart Manor, he let me go, so he could be free too. For some reason, he can possess you, although he won’t tell me why. So…just keep a clear head, okay, and try not to be so…vulnerable.”

  Russell was speechless, and then he found his voice. “I’m possessed?” he said, sounding skeptical.

  “Well, not right now. I think.”

  Russell shook his head. “So you’re saying that what I feel for you is really the result of a ghost? Possessing me? That this ghost is in love with you?”

  Edie furrowed her brow. “In love? No, no! Tristan doesn’t love me. He hates me, I’m sure. He wants me dead, I know it. He’s mean too. When he possesses you, he says nasty things, scary things.”

  “But-but how do I keep from being possessed? If in fact I am—which I still don’t believe—because it’s crazy.”

  “Well…I guess the best thing is to stay away from me. Tristan’s attached to me,” she reminded him. “I think he can go a little distance but not far.” She gave a clueless shrug about that. “Like I said, he’s with me all the time. He
won’t leave.”

  “That doesn’t sound like he wants you dead,” Russell said. “That sounds like he loves you.”

  Edie shook her head in disbelief. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t be making my life a living hell.”

  Russell took another cautious step toward Edie. “Sometimes the ones who love us give us the most heartache.” He took another step forward and she took a step back. “I’m sorry, Edie, but I can’t stay away from you. I’m like David when he set eyes on Bathsheba. I’d rather commit sin than be apart from you, so…this ghost will have to keep on possessing me.”

  “You’d rather be possessed than stay away from me? I’m sorry Russell but that’s just crazy. You’re crazy,” she accused.

  Russell didn’t seem to take offense. He even smiled. “Then I’m crazy.” He reached out, but Edie retreated from his touch, and he surprisingly dropped his hand.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Ballantine,” she said quite firmly.

  He hesitated, and then nodded, surrendering, for now. “Be on time, Miss St. John. I don’t tolerate tardiness.” He walked a short distance away before he came to a halt, keeping his back to her. Over his shoulder, he said, “Oh, by the way, you’re a great kisser.”

  He got into his car and left, disappearing into the night.

  Edie stood outside in the freezing cold, her teeth chattering, and her mind a pile of snow, until she heard a door creak open nearby.

  It was Mason. “Your two minutes are up.”

  “I was only out here for two minutes?” she asked in disbelief.

  “No, it was eleven minutes and fifty-nine seconds.” He smiled. “But who’s counting?” His smile faded. “What happened?”

  “I told him that he’s being possessed by a ghost.” It wasn’t the entire truth of what they’d discussed, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

  Mason observed her near frozen state and wrapped her in a warm hug. “How’d he take it?”

  She snuggled against his chest, burying her cold nose into the folds of his sweater. “He didn’t freak out, but I don’t think he really believed me, either.” She looked up into Mason’s eyes. “I think that even when he’s not being possessed, there are traces of Tristan, still inside, lingering.”

  Mason’s eyes widened as he held her protectively. “Did Mr. B say something, do something to you?”

  She shook her head and lied again. “No, he didn’t.” She shrugged beneath Mason’s loving hold. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

  It was more than a feeling. Russell wanted Edie when he knew it was completely wrong. That wasn’t a sane person. That was an insane person—a person who wasn’t thinking clearly—a person who was possessed. Tristan may not be inside Russell 24/7, but he’d left a trail of breadcrumbs of his warped personality behind, so when he wanted to claim Russell, it was only a matter of finding the pieces and following them back. Those breadcrumbs, those pieces were Tristan. And Russell, oblivious before, and still oblivious now, was so stupefied, he didn’t know to sweep them away.

  Tristan was smart. When he couldn’t invade Russell, he kept trinkets of his soul inside his puppet, and pulled the strings from afar. It may not be the head rush from possessing him, but it was enough to get his jollies.

  Yes, that had to be it. That had to be the explanation for Russell’s behavior, sans possession. Because why else was he risking his reputation, his job, and his freedom, for her? It was undoubtedly all a scheme on Tristan’s part to cause Russell’s downfall. Why would he possess Russell and no one else?

  To her relief, Mason hadn’t been possessed.

  “I’m glad you’re really you,” she said, hugging him close.

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

  “Where else would I be?” she said, giving him a half smile.

  He cupped her cheek and kissed her lips, strong and commanding.

  “Was that for Tristan? To know I’m yours?” she asked, after she’d recovered her breath.

  Mason waited to recover his own, before saying, “That was for me. And you.” He wobbled his head. “And that creepy, voyeuristic bastard,” he admitted, caressing her cheek.

  She smiled. “Then kiss me again.”

  Chapter 19

  Despite Edie’s popularity, she was alone.

  Except for Tristan, of course, but she didn’t count him because he didn’t have a pulse.

  She was alone in her bedroom, thinking back over everything that’d happened at the restaurant, especially the kiss.

  She and Russell had kissed—for real—in a surreal world. It hadn’t been in her mind and Tristan hadn’t transported her to that dark bedroom. The best way that she could describe it was that she and Russell had been between worlds. On one side was the living world; a world where people couldn’t see or even acknowledge the existence of ghosts. On the other side was the spirit world; a world where the deceased could see and acknowledge the living, only to be disappointed when those who were alive didn’t return the favor.

  Edie found it immensely scary that Tristan was so powerful. She’d come to the conclusion that his strength was amplified when he induced fear in the living. The more someone was afraid, the stronger he got. From this assumption, Edie realized that Tristan had made those people (and Mason) think they’d been eating and wearing bugs.

  He wasn’t a time traveler. He hadn’t transported them all back to the time before the bug invasion. But he had altered reality. He’d used suggestion. He’d gotten everyone back in place, puppets on a stage, and positioned them how he’d wanted them: deaf, dumb, and blind. Only Edie and Russell had been able to move. Then again, they were puppets in Tristan’s show, as well.

  “Miss me?”

  Edie was under the covers, her head beneath the pillow.

  “No,” she told Tristan.

  “Come on now, Edie, don’t be shy. Look at me.”

  Considering she didn’t have much of a choice, she freed herself from the bedding and turned toward the sound of his voice. But he wasn’t just a voice anymore. He’d manifested in a full-length swivel mirror that was next to her dresser; curiously, she couldn’t see her own reflection. He was wearing Russell’s clothes: the dark blue jeans and the “Keep Calm and Carry On” red T-shirt. No leather coat. Well, he didn’t need it, did he? He never got cold. I should be grateful he’s even wearing clothes.

  Edie sat up, against the pillows. “Nice shirt.”

  Tristan grinned and tugged on it. “Thanks. I just got it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I know.” He spread out his hands. “I know you so well, Edie. And I know you’re still thinking about your teacher, or more precisely, his lips.”

  “Am not,” she refuted.

  “Are too,” he argued back.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “If I were it was only to reflect on the huge mistake I’d made. What’s so special about Russell? Why do you possess him, and not Mason, or some other guy? What kind of game are you playing?”

  Tristan smiled. “A game only I can win, Edie.” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of games: would you like to see a magic trick?”

  “If I say ‘no,’ will you go away?”

  “No.”

  Edie sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Tristan tsked. “You have such a poor attitude, Edie. I’m going to have to do something about that.”

  She watched and waited but nothing happened. Tristan didn’t move a ghostly inch, but then, the air changed in the room, plummeting to subzero. She could see her breath escape and hugged a blanket around her body. Tristan winked, then smiled, and finally, he moved out of the mirror.

  He stepped over the frame, and then planted one foot on the floor. The rest of his body came until he was standing in ghostly form inside her room. She could see through him. It was weird but mostly frightening. And this was just the reaction that he’d wanted.

  Slowly, he made his way to the side of her bed
, and sat on the edge, a few feet away from her. “See?” he said, smiling. “I can be a good boy.”

  Edie retreated all the way against the headboard and barricaded herself with all the pillows.

  Tristan chuckled. “Defensive, are we?”

  “I have every right to be,” she said in a cold tone.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” His lips lifted into a half smile as he made an X motion over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Very funny,” she said, not laughing.

  He grinned. “I’m a funny guy.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re hilarious.”

  Tristan patted the space next to him. “Come now, I won’t bite.”

  Edie shook her head so much in refusal that she was surprised when it didn’t fly off.

  Tristan’s smile faded. “Your uncle’s right down the hall.” He cocked his ghostly head to one side. “Do you know what your uncle fears the most? Hmm? I’ll tell you: writer’s block. The very idea cripples him.” Tristan gestured down. “He’d be a puddle on the floor, unable to function, if oh, I don’t know,”—he snapped his fingers, which actually made a noise, despite his incorporeal form—“Landon St. John were to suddenly forget all those ghouls, goblins, and ghosts that swirl inside his dark mind. Going blank like that, well…it’s tantamount to full-blown amnesia. He’d probably end up killing himself,” Tristan said without emotion.

  “All right,” Edie fumed, and pushed her pillow fort apart.

  She slid down the bed toward Tristan at a snail’s pace. When she’d finally stopped scooting, they were about a foot away from each other.

  Tristan appraised her red flannel pajamas. “A bit conservative, aren’t they?”

  “I’m not going to sleep in a negligee,” she said bitingly. “Not for you to gawk at me all night. And it’s cold all the time. I need to be covered from head-to-toe to prevent dying of hypothermia.”

  “You really can’t take the cold, can you?”

  “I can’t take you,” she shot back.

  “Ooh, touchy.” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of touching...” He raised his hand in a halt motion, palm facing her.