Demons Page 17
The twins walked us to the door, two steps behind us, demanding if we were going to kiss in the car, at the party, or as soon as the door was closed.
We made no comment.
I hesitated at the door, patting my pocket to be sure I had my phone. I considered running up for my purse, but then I decided that there probably wouldn't be a need for it.
Patrick had the door open by now, and he held it for me as I stepped out onto the porch. He gave the twins a last smile, then firmly closed the door on their grinning faces.
I sighed and shook my head. “I'm sorry about them.”
He reached for my hand, which I surrendered at once. He gave me an unconcerned grin. “Kate—relax. I happen to think they're adorable.”
I chuckled ruefully. “Can I get that in writing?”
He shook his head at me, a reluctant smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He tugged me toward the stairs and walked leisurely toward the street, where his car was parked and waiting for us. “So, where does Jaxon live?”
“It's about fifteen minutes from here, on the east side of town. We don't have to stay long, I promise.”
“Can I ask why you're so nervous?”
I shrugged a single shoulder and watched the driveway pass beneath my feet. “I'm worried it could get pretty awkward. Especially for you.”
There was an acute silence, then he tried to speak glibly. “Oh. I thought you were worried about that side of town. It's not as dangerous as my side, but it's more populated. But don't worry—I'm your Guardian, remember?”
His sorry attempt at a joke made me roll my eyes. “You're hopeless.”
He opened my door for me, and in minutes we were pulling out of the subdivision. Once we'd successfully merged onto the larger street, I shifted in my seat so my back leaned almost completely on the door.
“Patrick, what's going on? Why haven't you recovered since Toni took that bullet out?”
His eyes flickered toward me, but his head remained forward, focused on the traffic. “The honest answer?” he finally asked, reaching out to twist the volume down.
“I'd prefer that over a lie.”
His lips pressed tightly together. He deftly switched lanes and flicked off the blinker; in the same second, he glanced my way. “I don't know,” he admitted quietly, and I knew his honesty cost him. He didn't want to tell me this. He concentrated on the road. “Was it a combination of age, exhaustion, and then getting shot? I don't know. But any damage the bullet caused… I can feel that it healed just fine.”
“What about a doctor?”
He flashed me a quick smile, trying to lighten the air. “Right. Because I'm perfectly normal and able to see a doctor.”
“No, I mean—you have to have someone to consult with. You Guardians seem to have everything else covered.”
“Kate, Guardians don't get sick. That's just a fact.” He shrugged. “I'm planning to discuss it with Terence when he comes. Toni wanted me to keep our indiscretion private, since we were told to stay away from that Guardian. But I think it would be prudent to see if Terence has any idea of why I have this persistent headache. It's not normal.”
I bit my lower lip, unsure of what to say. In the end, I was just relieved that he planned on talking to someone. I told him so, and he smiled and stretched out his hand, seeking for my fingers.
“You worry too much, Kate. I'm the immortal one, remember?”
I shook my head at him. “Does that mean your headache's eternal too?”
He grimaced. “I certainly hope not.”
I had been to Jaxon's house a few times, when Aaron and I were together. Most of those parties had been football related, and as we pulled up and I saw all the familiar pickup trucks, I knew that this one was no different. Not that I should have been surprised. Jaxon usually didn't host anything but sports celebrations. The team had had a home game the night before, so I assumed this party was directly related to that.
As if we could be any more out of place. All of Aaron's friends and old teammates would be here, and we'd stick out like sore thumbs. I wondered if Patrick had ever even attended a football game. Was Aaron trying to embarrass us?
I felt bad just thinking it. Aaron wouldn't have deliberately put us in this situation. He may not have even realized it was a football team get-together. Jaxon was having a party… Aaron just hadn't thought about how weird it would be for me and Patrick—and Lee and Rodney too. But I'd been stupid not to realize this was exactly what we were in for. It was the football season, after all.
Aaron and I had gone to parties like this all the time, though I never really enjoyed them. A bunch of egotistical jocks all thinking they were on top of the world after a big win. It wasn't uncommon for someone to smuggle in a pack of beers, but that had always been mine and Aaron's cue to leave, since neither of us were comfortable around alcohol. (Honestly, I just didn't understand the appeal. Where was the fun in losing control, suffering memory loss, and enduring massive hangovers?) Bottom line, it was the sort of party a parent wouldn't approve of, and it was the last place I wanted to go with Patrick. A bad situation had just gotten a lot worse.
We parked on the narrow street, near Jaxon's neighbor's mailbox. The music was loud enough inside the house that we could hear it from the car, and Patrick winced at the pounding bass as he shut off the engine.
“Ow,” he muttered.
Concerned, I squeezed his hand. “We don't have to stay,” I said, trying not to sound too eager to leave—after all, it had been my great idea to drag him here.
He laughed once. “So quick to abandon Lee?”
“I have a feeling none of us will be staying long,” I tried to assure him.
“Let's at least go inside and tell her that. Don't worry about me.”
Easier said than done. But I gave in with a sigh and obediently waited for him to come around and get my door. I held his hand as we walked on the cracked sidewalk, toward the small old house. I asked Aaron once why the parties were always held at Jaxon's, since Jaxon lived in one of the poorest sections of town. His simple answer had been that Jaxon's parents were out of town a lot. The longer one was that he lived on the border of our school district, and playing pranks was an easy way to liven up a party.
The neighborhood was dark, and even with Patrick I felt a little anxious. If Lee hadn't been around, I probably wouldn't have even gone inside at all. But Patrick was right—I couldn't abandon Lee. And then there was Aaron. I promised Jaxon I would make an effort, and I wanted to try and help Aaron any way I could. I said I would show up, and I knew I wouldn't forgive myself if I turned around now. And so Patrick led me up the driveway and to the small porch, where a football player I recognized but couldn't name was making out with a red-headed cheerleader.
The front door was open, so we stepped almost cautiously inside, the thin hallway flashing drastically from the effects of a strobe light in the adjoining living room. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the house was full of people laughing, dancing, and kissing. Just stepping inside made me feel uneasy. The atmosphere was dark and dangerous. Thrilling, maybe, unless you knew enough to be afraid of the thrill.
Patrick stopped walking, unsure of where to go. He cast me a silent look that spoke volumes. He was obviously uncomfortable and out of his depth here. I couldn't blame him—so was I. Without Aaron, this felt a lot different. But I tried to look reassuring as I took the lead, guiding him down the narrow hall and toward the kitchen. We had to step around a couple sitting on the floor making out, but once we got to where the light wasn't blinking spastically, it was easier to see. The kitchen was dimly lit—everything but the main light was on. The light over the stove, a tall lamp in the other corner… it was enough to see that the room was filled with more people kissing or swaying to the music while they sipped some punch. Patrick and I backed up against the far wall, and I made a note to myself: don't drink anything.
I was about to pull out my phone and find Lee via text when a small group of people burst
in through the back door. They were laughing boisterously, their arms wrapped all around each other as they stumbled into the kitchen, leaving the door wide open to the backyard.
I was shocked to realize I knew the person in the middle.
“Aaron?” I gaped, the music drowning me out. Patrick's eyes were narrowed—against the pain or in an effort to see better, I wasn't sure.
Aaron lifted his head, and in the scarce light I could see how flushed he looked, like he'd just run a mile. Or gotten drunk for the first time. He had a girl on each side, their bodies tangled together. Jaxon was on one end, laughing hugely. The guy on the other end was the quarterback, an arrogant blond named Micah Grimshaw. He hit on every girl in the school, but while most girls reveled in his attention, or were at least mildly flattered, he just plain gave me the creeps. Luckily, I hadn't ever had to share a lunch hour with him, and since I was in mostly AP classes at this point, we really didn't run into each other much at school. And ever since Aaron had quit football, there hadn't been a reason for me to even think about Micah, because I never saw him anymore.
I hadn't realized how lucky I'd been until right this moment.
“That was great!” Jaxon hooted over the music. “This is going to be awesome.”
The girls laughed, and Aaron nodded his agreement. “I can't believe we just did that…”
Micah snorted and reached past one of the girls to thump Aaron on the back. “See what you've been missing? You sissy swimmer.”
I stood silently next to Patrick, wondering what I could say. Apologize? Tell him I was ready to leave? Call out to Aaron? Knock some sense in to him? All of their auras matched the rest of those I'd seen in this house—tinges of gray from the alcohol, large patches of red competition and passion, and swirls of blue contentment. But it wasn't a natural blue. It looked faded to me—hardly blue at all. It was hard to tell what was blue and what was gray.
Before I could decide what to do, Jaxon spotted me, just a few dark steps away now. “Kate!” he called happily, nudging the tipsy group toward us. I hoped they staggered like that because they were standing so closely together and not because they were already that drunk.
As they moved closer, I was relieved to see that Aaron's eyes were unglazed. Maybe he wasn't drunk after all. Maybe he was just caught up in the party atmosphere. I hoped that was the case.
Micah's eyes, however, were dull. Jaxon's weren't entirely normal either.
In that moment, I was tempted to call the cops, just to keep them from rubbing off on Aaron. He was still one of my great friends, and he would always have a special place in my heart. I didn't want him turning into them.
“Hey there,” Micah said to me, leaning in a little too close. I got a whiff of his repulsive breath and I grimaced reflexively. “Haven't seen you for a while, beautiful.”
Patrick was tense beside me, so I tried to keep my face as easy and calm as possible. “A little wasted, aren't we?”
Micah shrugged a bulky shoulder and his aura suddenly contained a spark of yellow happiness. “The night's young.” He grinned.
Aaron tried to push forward, but the girls weren't releasing him. He was rather embarrassed, and it was hard to see where his blush ended and his flushed aura began. “Kate… I'm, uh, glad you could make it.”
His eyes communicated the words he wouldn't say—he'd had no idea it would be this kind of party. And I think I believed him, mostly. It was hard to say, while I was standing here in Jaxon's kitchen, surrounded by people I barely knew.
“Yeah, we can't stay long,” I said loudly but just barely making myself heard.
“Oh, come on,” Jaxon moaned. “You guys can't leave yet. Have you tried the punch? I could get you some, if you'd like.”
“No, thank you,” Patrick said. Somehow he found the perfect volume to use. He was heard but able to retain the flat, almost menacing edge. He wasn't happy, and I think Micah's open admiring of me wasn't helping.
Micah's eyes jumped to Patrick, his lips twisting into an amused smirk. “No, thank you,” he mimicked. “What an accent. Do you practice that, or what?”
“Micah, lay off—he's cool.” Aaron's defensive words were welcome, but I worried that they'd only serve to egg Micah on.
Surprisingly, the quarterback raised his hands in surrender and then pulled a giggling brunette out into the hall. I didn't know where they were going, and I didn't care—as long as it was away from us.
I relaxed once he was gone, and I thought Patrick might have too. But only a little. I knew without looking or asking that the music and strange lighting was hurting his head, and I wanted to get him out of here as quickly as possible. His hand was growing clammy in mine, and I knew his head was hurting more than he let on.
I turned to Aaron and kept my voice loud enough to be heard. “Aaron, have you seen Lee?”
He shook his head. “No. But we've been… out. I might have missed her.”
Jaxon and the girls laughed at Aaron's word choice. “Out?” Jaxon grunted, his grin exposing essentially all of his white teeth. “Nice, man. Nice…”
Aaron seemed to remember that his arms were wrapped around two girls, and he quickly shrugged them off. They seemed mildly disappointed, making pouty faces before wandering to the front of the house.
One girl remained, her arm slung around Jaxon's thick waist. Her dark skin glowed strangely under the weird lights, and the effect was almost hypnotic. I had to pull my eyes back to Aaron, before I could grow dizzy staring.
“So… this is quite the party.”
Aaron still looked embarrassed, but Jaxon answered quickly. “I know, right? One of my best. The team deserves it though, after losing to stupid cheaters… You weren't at the game, were you?”
I shook my head. “No. Sorry I missed it.”
“Something was up with those refs,” Jaxon muttered angrily. “They kept calling us on everything, and we got more penalties than probably any team in the entire state's ever got. And ours were in one night.”
I tried to look sympathetic, and I think I was doing a pretty good job. Patrick suddenly dropped my hand, and I looked to him in surprise. His face was sallow, and there was a sudden sheen of sweat on his forehead. But he wasn't looking at me—he was looking at Jaxon. “Where's your bathroom?” he asked quickly, voice tight.
Jaxon blinked, then pointed. “Uh, down that hall, second door on the left. So you did get some of the pun—?” But Patrick was already moving, dodging a slow-dancing couple and disappearing down the dark hall, which was lit sporadically by the strobe light.
I realized my mouth was slack, and a new wave of fear washed over me. Patrick looked… sick. Like, puke-your-guts-out sick. Something was terribly wrong. This went beyond simple tiredness or an annoying headache that wouldn't leave.
I didn't realize I was moving to follow him until Aaron reached out for my wrist, snagging it midstride. I looked to him and saw that his aura was changing—I could see his guilt for inviting me, his uneasiness for being caught in the midst of all this, and his worry that maybe I was thinking badly of him now…
“Um, Kate?” He offered a thin smile. “Trust me, a guy doesn't want his girlfriend walking in on something like this. I'll check on him for you.”
“Aaron, you don't have to—”
“Kate, I don't mind. He wouldn't have forced himself out here if it weren't for me pressing you, so I owe you both. Please… allow me.”
Reluctantly, I dropped my hand in acquiescence, and Aaron traced Patrick's footsteps, moving more leisurely into the hall than my Guardian had just seconds before.
I appreciated Aaron's concern. But at the same time, I wished he would have just let me go. Now what was I supposed to do?
I was alone with Jaxon and his girl standing opposite me. There was an awkward second, and then I decided to call Toni. There wasn't much he could do, since we had their car here, but maybe he could tell me something Patrick hadn't. It was a thin hope, but it would be something to do.
I kn
ew I wouldn't have a prayer of hearing him in here, where we were drowning in heavy rock, and so I told Jaxon I was going outside to make a call. He promised to tell Aaron and Patrick where I'd gone, though not in that many words, and then I made my way to the open back door.
It was still warm outside, but the air was almost a shock of cold after being in the heavily crowded house. The dark sky was oddly comforting. Even though the sound of the loud bass thudded through the walls and flowed from the open door, the backyard was a lot quieter. Not peaceful, exactly, but I could breathe out there.
I wasn't the only one enjoying the outdoors. The yard was small and overgrown with weeds. There was a single large tree in the center of the ground, and it was the least populated area. Quiet laughter drifted from behind a run-down shed, and several couples were making out at different intervals around the chain-link fence.
I stepped off the single step that served as a back porch, headed for the tree. While I walked, I reached for my phone—but it went off before I could slip my fingers into my pocket. I pulled it out quickly while it vibrated sharply, and in a cursory glance of the top display I saw that it was an incoming call from Lee. Not exactly the person I wanted to talk to right now, but I did want to make sure she wasn't trapped somewhere in this “party.”
“Lee, where are you?” I answered quickly, still wandering toward the tree. I spoke quietly, but I don't think the kissing couples would have been disturbed, even if I was screaming.
“Whoa, nice to hear from you too,” Lee said. “Is it enough to say that I'm in a car, or do I have to give you the mile marker too, Mom?”
“Sorry—I just… I think Patrick's sick, and this party isn't exactly like I imagined it would be.”
“You sound stressed.”
“I am stressed, a little.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear the party's a bummer, because we probably aren't going to make it. Rodney's tire went flat, and it took longer changing it than I thought it would. Two people don't always make a job easier, remember that.” Someone made a comment I couldn't quite pick up on her side, and Lee laughed. I waited for her to remember my existence, and eventually she did. “So now we're heading back to his house, and I think we'll just stay there and watch a movie.”