Desires of the Dead

She hated the way she’d left things after that moment when she’d simply nodded her head. She’d felt dizzy almost immediately, regret pummeling her. She’d wanted to take it back . . . that slight, almost imperceptible bob of her chin. But it was too late. It was out there. And Sara had seen it.

Too late.

Violet had told Sara she had to go. She’d allowed the woman to walk her outside, but only because she was too afraid to go out there alone again, among the darkened warehouses.

But she’d realized sometime during the ride home that, despite being distressed over her confession, something else had changed too. Something she hadn’t anticipated.

She felt like a burden had been lifted.

She was sure she must be imagining it. Probably some sort of latent insanity finally rearing its ugly head. That sounded about right. She was crazy. It explained everything, really. The echoes, and dead cats, and serial killers. Insanity, all of it.

But she wasn’t about to question it, because whatever it was—her confession to Sara, or the realization that Megan wasn’t the one who’d been stalking her, or making up with Jay—she felt better. And that was a far nicer place to be than where she’d been before, wallowing in self-pity and loathing and fear.

She wasn’t about to second-guess it. Insanity might not be so bad after all.

Plus she’d slept a deep, dreamless sleep that night, and in the morning, when Jay arrived to drive her to school, she felt alive again. And happy.

Unfortunately, Jay wasn’t sharing her optimistic views on madness.

“Good morning,” Violet said cheerfully as Jay stomped into the kitchen without knocking.

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing. “Not really,” he grumbled in response.

Violet laughed as she grabbed her backpack. She wasn’t surprised that he was still pouting; this was pretty much how he’d looked yesterday, after he’d reluctantly agreed to let Violet handle things her way.

“Actually it is,” she insisted, stepping closer and kissing him on the cheek, demanding that he notice her for a moment. She wanted him to pay attention to what she had to say.

Luckily it didn’t take much to get Jay’s attention. He slipped his arm around her waist and held her there, gently pressing his lips to hers. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but she wasn’t complaining. She let her backpack fall to the floor.

She’d missed the feel of his lips. And the warmth of his touch.

She reacted quickly, getting lost, first in one kiss, and then another. She wanted to stay there, giving herself over to him. He kissed her until her lips felt bruised and swollen, and still they yearned for more. Her head swam, and her heart was whole.

Yet she knew there was something she wanted to tell him, something important.

After a moment, she remembered what it was.

She pulled her head back, smiling at his frustration. Playfully she planted one last peck on his lips. “She’s gonna help,” she stated smugly.

Jay looked fuzzy, but then his expression cleared. And the scowl was back. “Are you sure? What did she say?”

“You don’t need to worry about anything. It was a good meeting. I explained everything, and I gave her the note.” Violet tilted her head and smiled. “She said she’d take care of it.”

She watched as his jaw flexed, and she knew this was hard for him, letting her handle things her way. But then he sighed, and even though it sounded more like he was choking, Violet was sure that he was exercising a level of restraint that was practically painful for him. It made her want to giggle. She was sure that must be another symptom of her newly arrived lunacy, but she managed not to laugh. Instead she cocked her head and somehow maintained a straight face.

When he didn’t say anything, didn’t, in fact, move, Violet raised her eyebrow inquisitively. “Are we good?” She almost lost it when she heard her voice and realized that she sounded like a schoolteacher scolding an errant child.

Jay frowned as if he were trying to decide, and Violet took that moment to soften her stance.

She lifted her backpack from the floor and, with her other hand, hooked her arm through his. “Come on. Let’s get to school so we don’t have to stop at the office and explain why we’re late.” She squeezed him reassuringly. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Trust me.”

“Aww! Look, Jules, they’re all kissed and made up. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” Chelsea mocked as she dropped her lunch tray onto the table. But even with her voice dripping sarcasm, she winked at Violet when she thought Jay wasn’t looking.

Chelsea was interrupted when Mike came up behind her and put his hands over her eyes. Thankfully the attempted mustache was gone; his lip was smooth and clean-shaven.

“Guess who?” he asked, and Violet smirked. If Chelsea had caught Jay playing such a childish game with Violet, she would have verbally crucified him for being lame. But with Mike, she totally played along.

“I don’t know, but I hope my boyfriend doesn’t see us together.” This time her honey-sweet voice wasn’t laced with arsenic.

They were kissing before Mike had even taken his seat beside her.

It was almost embarrassing to witness.

But that wasn’t why Violet felt herself squirming.

She wondered what Mike would think if he knew the things she’d said about his sister.

She had to remind herself that he didn’t know. The only person who knew was Jay, and he would never tell.