Читать книгу Dark Kiss - Michelle Rowen - Страница 10

McCarthy High was a mile east of the movie theater and I lived a few blocks north of the school. While there were still plenty of shops and businesses in this area, it didn’t have the same cold, gray cement look of downtown. Here there were tall oak trees that were turning gorgeous fall colors and well-manicured lawns, still green, lining the side streets.

I’d lived in Trinity, New York, all my life. After my parents’ separation, my mother and I had stayed in the same house I grew up in. She hadn’t worked when they were married, but since the split, she’d gotten her real-estate license and started a job that quickly took over her life. She loved it, or at least she spent so many hours at it that she should love it. I practically felt like an orphan.

A distant rumble of thunder reminded me that a rainstorm had been forecast for tonight. I wanted to get home before it arrived, so I picked up my pace for a couple of blocks.

Then something slowed me to a stop.

A boy sat with his back pressed against the front of an office supply shop, the closed sign in the window just above his head. His long legs lay straight across the sidewalk in front of me. His hands covered his face. I eyed a couple of people as they passed by, but they didn’t even glance in his direction.

Typical. Everyone minded their own business in this neighborhood. Especially when it came to someone who looked like he might be a street kid. This boy wore ripped jeans, scuffed black boots and a plain blue T-shirt. No coat. I drew my own black trench tighter around me to help block out the chill.

Just after my parents separated and my father moved away, I’d reacted by running away from home after a huge fight with my mother. I’d been sick of her ignoring me and I’d wanted to make a statement, make her appreciate having her only child around a bit more than she seemed to. Even though I’d known that the world didn’t revolve around me, I’d figured that her world should. At least, a little.

I’d lived in the heart of downtown for three days, a couple of miles from here. Early on my second day, some street kids had found me sitting on the sidewalk, crying my eyes out as I felt lost and sorry for myself. They’d taken me under their protection and brought me to a local mission, where I’d eaten a hot meal. That night, they’d let me sleep in the basement of an abandoned house they’d found on the west side of the city. Then they’d told me I should go home, since putting up with a mother like mine was way better than anything they had to deal with. Also, after my frantic mother had contacted the police and filed a missing persons report on me, it was only a matter of time before I would have been found. Still, I was on the streets long enough for bad things to have happened if I’d been on my own the whole time.

I’d never seen them again, but I’d never forgotten what they’d done for me. If I could help somebody like that to pay it forward, then I would give it my best shot.

“Hey,” I said to the boy on the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”

When I didn’t get a response, I leaned over and tapped the kid lightly on his shoulder. I hated to think he might be hurt. “Can you hear me?”

A streetlamp nearby picked that moment to flicker on, and he finally pulled his hands away from his face. He blinked long lashes a few shades darker than his mahogany-colored hair. The most incredible eyes met mine—a cobalt-blue so intense it felt as if he could see right through me to the other side. My breath caught. He was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen in my life—and he seemed familiar to me, but I had no idea why.

He was older than I’d first thought. My age, maybe a year older.

His brows drew together. “Who are you?”

“I’m Samantha. Samantha Day. Do you need help? Are you hurt?”

He gazed into my eyes as if hypnotized by what he saw there. I gazed back, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know what to do. My—my head. It’s not working right ever since I fell. My thoughts are all jumbled together.” He grimaced as if he were in pain.

Concern swept through me. “You fell? Did you hit your head?”

“My head?”

I fished in my black leather bag for my phone. “If you want me to call somebody for you, I can totally do that.”

“I can’t find them.” There was pain in his voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was emotional or physical. Either way, my chest tightened at the sound of it. “I’ve been searching night and day. It’s my fault. All my fault. I’m going to fail and all will be lost. Everything and everyone. Forever and ever.”

He said he’d fallen, but I wasn’t so sure about that. If I was placing a bet, I’d say this was either a mental thing or a drug thing.

I studied him. Maybe I’d seen his picture in the newspaper or on TV as his parents searched for him out on the streets, and that was why he seemed so familiar.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Bishop.”

“Okay. Is that your first name or your last name?”

“It’s—just Bishop.”

“You have only one name?” Unless he was a rock star or a chess piece, it was another sign that he was having trouble thinking straight.

“Right—only Bishop. Nothing else now.” The expression on his handsome face was one of deep confusion. “When I volunteered for this, they told me I would be a great leader. They said there might be difficulties, but they thought I could handle whatever happened. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I thought I’d go back to normal when I arrived. But this—this is not normal.” He looked angry about “this,” whatever it meant. He frowned and rubbed his temples. “Who are you?”

I felt an irresistible urge to help this boy, if I could. “I told you already. I’m Samantha. So you’re looking for somebody? Is it somebody from your family—your mom or dad? Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up?”

He pushed himself up from the sidewalk. He was easily a foot taller than me, although I was pretty short at five-two and currently wearing flats. His unexpected physical presence overwhelmed me for a moment and I took a shaky step back from him. The T-shirt he wore fit tight across his chest like it was a couple of sizes too small, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. I felt uneasy now that he was towering over me rather than sprawled on the sidewalk, and yet I didn’t turn away from him. Those eyes—they seemed to hold me in place. And he smelled so incredible—spicy and sweet—I couldn’t even describe it properly. His very presence seemed to sink into my senses.

“Samantha,” he repeated.

A strangely pleasant shiver slid down my spine. He cocked his head as he continued to study me with those vivid blue eyes. There was a coldness to his appearance, to the hard lines of his face, but I couldn’t look away.

I shifted back again as he drew closer to me. “What are you looking at?”

He held my gaze. “You’re … beautiful.”

“Uh … th-thanks?” My face flushed at his words and I cleared my throat. “Maybe I should just leave you alone. You look, um, sturdy enough now.” To say the least. I felt an urge to move even closer to him, but there wasn’t any reason for me to feel that way. Confusing emotions battled inside me. He might be in distress, but I wasn’t going to put myself in harm’s way. “But you really should call your parents and tell them you’re okay. They’re probably worried about you. There’s a mission on Peterson Avenue. They can help you if you go there.”

The chill in the air had gotten worse now that it was dark out. I began to move past him, feeling it time to exit stage left. Besides, my strange hunger seemed to be getting worse by the minute. I needed to eat something soon. Even if it didn’t really help, at least it would take the edge off whatever was wrong with me.

“Samantha, wait.”

I froze and slowly turned back to the boy who’d just called me beautiful. Not something I heard every day, that was for sure. Maybe that was why it knocked me off balance so much, especially given my recent difficulties with the last guy who’d showed a fleeting interest in me.

I didn’t move as he approached me again. He smelled warm and clean—I guess he hadn’t been on the streets that long. He smelled good … really good.

Bishop’s expression clouded and he rubbed his temples again. “It’s like a million images are hitting me all at once. Even more now that you’re here with me. All I know is … it’s running out. I have only four more days to find the others before they’re lost to me. But … there’s no one. Nowhere. Maybe I’m alone. Maybe they’re not here. But they’re supposed to be, and I’m supposed to be able to find them.”

My heart pounded hard and fast. It had done something similar with Stephen the other night, speeding up at the idea of spending time with him. But this was different—it felt different. And it wasn’t just because Bishop was a very cute, if disturbed, boy whose path had crossed mine. There was something about him—something I couldn’t place. So familiar. So compelling. Bishop was strange and babbling, but I felt drawn to him like nothing I’d experienced before. I tried to tell myself he was just a troubled kid I’d found on the sidewalk, not someone I should ever be attracted to.

I need to walk away. Right now.

But I didn’t.

“Are you high?” It was a guess, probably a good one. I needed a reason for his odd behavior, to label it so this would make some kind of sense to me.

He looked up at the dark sky. “High, yes. I need to be high above the city. That might help me find them.”

I looked up. There were no stars tonight. The heavy clouds were threatening rain. A bright beam of light shone up above the tall buildings, back in the direction of the movie theater.

“Above the city?” I asked, following his gaze.

He shook his head. “I can’t fly here. None of us can. And it hurts so much—I can’t explain it properly because I can’t think properly. I’m damaged.” He raked a hand through his dark, messy hair. “Why is it like this for me? I hate feeling this way, but I can’t snap out of it and get control. There has to be another way.”

He leaned back against the store window, slouching as if it was difficult for him to remain standing. Concern gnawed at my gut.

I didn’t want to feel responsible for this guy, but I did anyway. I liked to think I wasn’t like the other coldhearted people around here—I refused to let myself be like that. I couldn’t sidestep someone just because they were in trouble and saying crazy stuff.

I let out a shaky breath. “It’s going to be okay, Bishop. I’ll help you.”

He looked at me with surprise. “You will?”

“Of course.” I reached for his hand.

The moment I touched him, a strong crackle of electricity coursed up my arm.

I gasped.

And then a vision slammed into me like I’d just been flattened by a truck.

A city in darkness, melting and draining away like water in a bathtub—falling into a dark hole in the center of everything. People, thousands and thousands of them, trying to run away but getting pulled into the vortex. There was no escape.

Bishop was there trying to help. To save everyone, including me. I reached for his hand as he yelled my name, but he was swept away from me before I could touch him.

Then it was all over.

Where there had once been a city, there was nothing but darkness.

The horrifying image left me shaking and gasping.

Bishop looked down with shock at my hand in his before I pulled away from him. Thunder rumbled in the skies above us.

“No, wait.” He grabbed my hand again.

“Did you see that?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“See what?” He frowned. “I didn’t see anything. But when you touch me … I can suddenly think clearly for the first time in days.”

I stared at him, finding it hard to catch my breath. The strange vision—had it been my imagination? I was shaking so hard that I could barely form words. “You’re crazy.”

His expression held deep surprise. “Not anymore.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“But it’s still true.” There was way more clarity in his gaze now. “I don’t understand how you’re able to do this, but—do you feel it, too?”

“What?”

“We have a connection. The moment I saw you … I don’t know what it is. Maybe you were sent to help me. Maybe they knew I needed you to find me. That has to be it.”

The sharp edges of the disturbing vision had softened in my mind like they were nothing more than a remembered dream. Now holding Bishop’s hand felt … good. Too good. Touching him had chased his confusion away—although that made absolutely no sense. I suddenly realized it had chased my chill away, too. Warmth slid slowly up my arm and through the rest of me. Yet, despite this newfound heat, his touch still made me shiver.

I looked down at my hand in his but didn’t pull it away this time.

“Maybe I’ll be able to find the others now,” Bishop said.

“What others?” My voice sounded hoarse. “Your family?”

“No. The others. They’re … supposed to help me.”

“You’re still holding my hand.”

He raised his blue eyes to mine, and a smile played on his lips for the first time—a really amazing smile that made my heart skip a beat. “You have no idea how good this feels for me.”

I had to admit, it felt pretty good for me, too. Dangerously good.

“I don’t know what you are or where you came from,” Bishop said, “but thank you.”

I felt dazed. “What I am?”

He nodded. “To make me feel this way you must be very special … and you don’t even realize it, do you?”

I almost laughed at that, but what came out sounded like a nervous hiccup. “Trust me, I’m not special. But you do seem better. Not sure I can take the credit for it, though.”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through since I got here. I’m not used to making mistakes, but now it feels like that’s all I do. I hope it’ll be better now.”

He had been horribly confused. And now, suddenly—because he was touching me?—that confusion was gone. It didn’t make any sense.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked.

His expression grew pained again, and he craned his neck as he looked up into the sky. “I was told there would be columns of light—searchlights—to help lead my way, but I can’t find any. They were to be my guide and I’m lost without them.”

I glanced back in the direction of the movie theater. “Uh … you don’t happen to mean something like that column of light, do you?”

His brows drew together. “I don’t see anything.”

I frowned and thumbed in the light’s direction. “You can’t see that bright beam of light over there?”

“No. But …” He hesitated and gave me a hard, skeptical look. “But you can?”

“I don’t know how anyone could miss it. I thought it was coming from the movie theater.”

“Samantha …” Again, as he said my name, I felt that strange shiver course through me. “If you can really see the light, you need to show me where it leads.”

I remembered the story about Carly and the hive of bees. She’d been stung ten times and the doctor said she was very lucky it hadn’t been worse than that. If it were me, I wouldn’t ever have eaten honey again because of that painful memory. But not Carly. She still loved honey. Then again, Carly’s always been a little bit crazy.

I remembered Stephen walking away Friday night at Crave, leaving me standing there all alone. That had been my first painful bee sting in a long time, and a recent one, too. I was still recovering from it.

“You said you’d help me,” he said. “Did you mean it?”

Bishop wanted me to lead him to the column of bright light that he said he couldn’t see. And I was going to do it because … well, I didn’t really know why, but I was going to do it anyway.

I let out a shaky breath. “Okay, fine. Follow me.”

He let go of my hand as we walked, and the chill I’d felt before began to set in again.

“It’s already fading,” Bishop said, his expression tense.

“What? The light?”

“No, my sanity. So we’d better make this quick.”

“But you feel okay when you touch me?”

He looked disturbed. “Yes.”

“Fine. Then, here.” I held out my hand to him, and when he entwined his fingers with mine again, I was filled by that incredible, blissful heat—and, thankfully, no disturbing vision this time.

He smiled at me. “Much better.”

My face heated up right along with the rest of my body.

I’d been certain the light was coming from the movie theater. Instead, it led us to an alley behind a fast-food restaurant. When we turned the corner, the light disappeared as if someone had flicked off a switch. Weird.

At the end of the short alley, a tall kid with dark blond hair rummaged noisily through an overflowing Dumpster. He looked about the same age as Bishop. I grimaced as he put something in his mouth and started chewing. It looked like a half-eaten hamburger.

Um, gross.

Bishop had stopped in place and was staring at the kid with an expression on his face I couldn’t put a name to. Confusion, doubt and something else. Something bleak.

“Everything okay?” I asked him.

His shoulders tensed and he looked at me. “It will be.”

“Well, good. I assume you know that kid?”

“Don’t worry about him.” He leaned over and looked deep into my eyes. He took my other hand in his, as well. A breath caught in my chest.

“Okay, I won’t worry,” I said.

“I really don’t understand this.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“You saw the searchlight when I couldn’t.” He frowned, as if trying to make sense of it all. “You were sent to help me when I needed it most—when I’d nearly given up hope. Thank you.”

I couldn’t help but grin at how dramatic he was being. “You’re very welcome.”

His expression turned tense, and he let me go so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance. It helped break me out of my current daze.

“It’s strange. I thought for a second that you—” His dark brows drew together before he shook his head.

“You thought for a second … what?”

“Something bad. But it’s nothing.” He turned to look at the Dumpster-diving kid before returning his gaze to mine. “You need to go now, Samantha.”

I inhaled sharply. “What?”

He took a step back as if forcing himself to put some space between us. “I need to talk to him alone.”

The distance between us helped to clear my head a little. “But—”

“Just go. And forget you ever met me.”

It felt like I’d just been punched in the gut, and it took me a moment to catch my breath. The cold splash of a raindrop hit my face.

He wanted me to forget I’d met him. But I kind of thought that we …

That we what? Had a connection because a good-looking but kind of crazy guy had called me beautiful? Because he’d said I was special?

My second bee sting of the weekend hurt like hell.

“Fine.” My chest ached. “I guess you should grab your friend before he finds a dead rat to nibble on.”

There was a sliver of regret in his blue eyes—or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He’d gotten what he needed from me and now he was giving me the brush-off. “Goodbye, Samantha.”

“Whatever.” I swallowed hard, then turned and walked away, forcing myself not to look back.

But even as I left the alley, my steps slowed.

Was he some milk-carton missing kid? Did he need professional help to deal with his mental issues? And who was the garbage-eating boy in the alley Bishop had needed a beam of light in order to find? I couldn’t just walk away and forget all about this without having any of my questions answered. Even if he didn’t want me around, I had to find out what was going on.

Ignoring the sharp needles of cold rain, I returned to the small alley and peered around the corner. The boys were close enough for me to hear them.

The other kid finally noticed Bishop and abandoned his secondhand meal, dropping the remains of the burger to the dirty, wet ground. “Who are you?”

Bishop didn’t speak right away. He cleared his throat first. “You don’t know me?”

“No, should I?”

“My name’s Bishop,” he said evenly. “I’m here to help you.”

The other boy eyed Bishop warily. “How are you going to help me?”

“Do you remember who you are? Do you remember anything at all?”

The boy ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, now damp from the rain, his expression tight and uncertain. “I woke up three days ago in a park north of here with no idea how I got there.”

“I know how.”

Relief flooded the kid’s expression. “Yeah? And you can help me?”

Another moment of hesitation. “That’s my job. Come closer.”

Bishop’s voice sounded stronger now, no babbling or disjointed thoughts like before. His shoulders were broad and he stood straight and tall, his back to me, the rain soaking through his T-shirt, darkening it.

The boy moved away from the Dumpster to stand in front of Bishop. They were the same height and build.

“Show me your back,” Bishop instructed.

“My back?”

“Please, it’ll only take a moment. I can’t make any more mistakes, even if I’m absolutely sure who you are.”

The blond kid looked bewildered as he turned and pulled up his shirt. It was fully dark now, and the only light came from a single security lamp on a post against the gray brick wall, but I could still see enough. On either side of his spine was a detailed tattoo of wings, so large that it extended down past the waistband of his pants. I squinted a little and noted that the wings were outlined and shaded in black.

It was trendy for some kids to get a wing tattoo—especially the guys on McCarthy’s football team, the Ravens. But they usually got it on their arms.

My rational mind wanted me to believe it was just a big version of the Ravens tattoo. However, these wings weren’t feathery like a bird’s. They were more webbed and … batlike.

Another shiver raced through me and my teeth began to chatter. My hair was now drenched from the icy-cold rain.

“I’ve seen enough,” Bishop said.

The boy lowered his shirt. Just like Bishop, he wasn’t wearing a coat despite the chill in the air and the falling rain.

“So now what?” the boy asked.

“Now you need to be brave.”

The boy’s attention shifted to the gold-bladed knife Bishop pulled from a sheath on his back that I hadn’t noticed before. “What are you going to do with that?”

“What I was sent here to do,” Bishop said. “My mission.” He plunged the knife into the boy’s chest.