Desires of the Dead
Page 40

And then it came again, just the hint of that diffused, glowing spark. Gone as quickly as it had come. But farther now than it had been before.
Maybe it’s coming from outside, Violet thought, looking through the windows.
She shoved her way through the crowd, out the double doors near the office, and into the light of day. She didn’t see him, the person who carried the imprint of the dead cat.
She kept walking, searching. Ahead of her, in the parking lot, she could see cars coming and going. Around her, students and some faculty members meandered along the sidewalks that wound around the campus.
Her heart beat a reckless rhythm. She was afraid to discover the truth. And afraid not to.
She slowed, moving carefully, trying to notice everything. But the harder she searched, the more she realized she was too late. Whoever she’d sensed was gone.
She reached the end of the buildings, where the parking lot started, and took a heavy step forward, off the curb, searching around her. There was no one there. No flashing light. She was alone.
It didn’t make any sense.
She sighed, disappointment sinking in. She didn’t know what to think.
But she was tired, she reminded herself. She’d barely slept, and not just last night but for a long, long time. Too long. Maybe her mind had slipped past normal fatigue and into something far more dangerous, far closer to the kind of exhaustion where her thoughts could no longer be trusted.
She shook her head, not wanting to entertain the disturbing notion.
She wasn’t crazy. She had seen something. It had definitely been there, and even if it hadn’t been an imprint, it had been real.
She waited for a few minutes and then gave up, going back to the cafeteria.
Tonight, she decided with determination. Tonight I need to sleep.
Greed
It was the strangest thing, seeing Violet get up from her lunch table and walk right toward her. It was as if Violet had known she was being watched.
But that was impossible.
She’d only meant to spy for a moment, to numb herself just a little. And when she saw Violet heading right toward her, wearing that strange look of recognition on her face, she’d backed away before Violet could discover her . . . hiding there, stealing a glimpse into the life she could never have.
Perfect Violet. With the perfect life.
She slipped out of the building before Violet could reach her, disappearing around the corner. She paused for a moment, frozen—trapped—as she waited for her father to get into his truck. She hated that he’d insisted on coming inside to sign her in, resentful that he’d made her late in the first place as she stayed awake half the night, waiting for him to pass out.
As he pulled away, she circled the building, searching for another way inside, and wondered what would happen if she let Violet catch her.
She toyed with the notion of opening up to Violet, and the idea was oddly appealing.
What if she could tell someone the truth? What if she could share her burdens?
And what would she say? That her mother had run off? That her father was a drunk?
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to tell anyone. There was no one she could trust . . . no one who cared about her pathetic existence.
Especially not Violet Ambrose.
She reached an open doorway and took a relieved breath. She entered the stream of students pouring into the halls before their next class. She moved among them, reassured that she was once again undetectable.
Just the way she liked it.
Anonymous. Faceless in the crowd.
Just another girl.
Chapter 17
When Violet and Jay walked together to the parking lot after school, Violet couldn’t help inspecting everyone around her. Studying them. Searching them.
One of them carried an imprint.
She kept telling herself to just forget it, but she couldn’t.
“Hey, it’s for you,” Jay announced, interrupting her thoughts as he reached for the pink paper that was tucked beneath his windshield wiper. He sniffed it before handing it to her. “Smells good.”
Violet laughed at him for smelling the note, then turned it over in her hands.
Her name had been written with purple felt-tip marker in distinctly girly lettering. She sniffed it apprehensively; it smelled like grape. A lacy heart sticker held it closed.
“That’s weird.” She picked at the corner of the sticker, flashing Jay a sly look. “Maybe I have a secret admirer.”
Jay threw his bag in the backseat and climbed inside to start his car.
Violet unfolded the letter and read it. Her heart stopped.
The words inside were written in the same feminine handwriting as her name on the outside. She read them again, thinking that she’d made some sort of mistake the first time.
She hadn’t.
She refolded the paper, this time in a hurry, trying to ignore the unnerving sensation that someone was watching her. She shoved it into her backpack and then threw hers in back with Jay’s.
“So? Who was the love note from?” he asked absently as she got in the passenger seat.
Violet shook her head, trying to find the words, but they weren’t there. She felt like she was stuck in her dream again, the nightmare in which she was trapped, entombed, in the suffocating darkness. Unable to save herself.
“Violet?”
She blinked. “What?” She still hadn’t answered his question. “Chelsea,” she floundered. “It’s just a note from Chelsea.”
He looked worried. “You okay?” He touched her cheek, his brow wrinkled.