Chapter 15 #2
“I don’t like to drink, which made it hard to be in a fraternity, and I think about my friend Bryce all the time. Sometimes I go to his hospital room and just watch through the window and hope he knows how sorry I am for what happened.”
Her eyes widen.
“There’s a girl I call Jules who told me it’s bad to be a Scorpio, and now I read my horoscope every day.” He sits on the bed, tipping his knees into hers. “She has no idea how hard I’ve fallen for her. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Ezra,” Mallory whispers.
“You want something real?” He grabs her hands and squeezes them, twice, in quick succession. Their code. “How’s this—the way I feel about you? It’s the realest fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”
A cacophony of emotions explodes inside her, fierce and swift. Heartbeat buzzing like a rabbit’s, she presses her mouth to Ezra’s and hopes he can tell how real it is for her, too.
He must, because he kisses her back with the possessiveness of someone who never wants to let go. Like he could stay here with her forever, hiding from the world and all its ugly parts.
It would feel good, Mallory thinks, to disappear with him.
But as their kiss goes on, she has no choice but to notice this isn’t the delirious, untethered passion from last night. It’s not the sizzling start of something rare and wild, coming to life beneath a scarlet glow.
Today, Ezra’s kiss tastes like an ending.
She tries to shake off the worry, kissing him harder, letting her hands wander along his firm chest as his fingers slip beneath her sweatshirt. But she can’t fight it, can’t ward off the mounting dread. It loops and spins like thorn-plucked ivy, clawing at her stomach, sinking into—
Before she can understand what’s happening, a flash of images race behind her lashes like a film strip.
Just like underneath the stage that night.
The group of cloaked figures in bird masks. The raging fire in the center.
And a human heart, wet and dripping against stone.
But this time, she sees something new: an ancient-looking book, cracked open on a different rock, pages marked with strange symbols. One of the men is flipping through it, chanting something that disappears on the midnight breeze.
A terrible, keening wail scrapes at her eardrums in time with the rapid-fire visions, escalating in volume like the frantic whistle of a teakettle—
All of which falls quiet when Mallory rips her mouth away.
In the silence that follows, Ezra’s gaze bores into hers, confused. A nonsensical part of her dares to ask if he just saw that, too.
But she never gets the words out.
Because a drop of blood slips from Ezra’s right nostril, staining his skin.
“Ezra!” She lunges for a tissue on his nightstand. “You’re bleeding.”
Bewilderment briefly flashes on his face, which folds quickly into understanding as he takes the tissue and presses it to his nose.
And then, unexpectedly, his expression slips into something bordering on panic.
“You need to leave,” he says. “Right now.”
She frowns, taken aback. “What?”
“Jules, I’m not fucking around. I want you to go.”
“Ezra,” Mallory replies, shaking her head. “I don’t care about a nosebleed. Let me help you.” She grabs another tissue. “Shit, that’s a lot of blood. Is it always like this, or—”
A burst of light catches her eye, and Mallory turns just in time to see Ezra’s desk lamp spark. The bulb spits and snarls, sending flashes of yellow across the room.
“What the fuck?” she cries as the overhead light begins to flash, too. Electricity sizzles and pops while her gaze ping-pongs, breaths heavy and labored. She glances back at Ezra to find him gripping a fistful of tissues to his nose, knuckles white and eyebrows pinched in pain.
“Ezra.” Her voice trembles as she reaches for him. “I told you. There’s something wrong with your room—”
“Leave,” he manages. “Don’t make me say it again.”
The lights continue to flash. She presses closer, fear clawing at her spine.
“I don’t understand. What’s happening—?”
“Jules.” Her secret name wrenches out of him as the tissue in his hand turns redder and redder, blood trailing down his wrist. “Please—just go. I’ll call you later.”
“Ezra!” She snatches yet another tissue. “I’m not leaving you like this. For god’s sake, just let me take care of you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Get out. Get out. Get out—”
Ezra’s words are swallowed by a sharp hissing noise as every single bulb in the room fizzles to nothing. The whirring electricity is replaced with immediate silence, thick and tenebrous. Outside, rain slams against the building, the sky shuddering to the darkest gray.
And then, that terrible, frostbitten cold creeps along the walls.
It fills the room, the air no different from a wintery midnight. Ice seems to lick the back of Mallory’s neck, pebbling her skin.
“It’s cold again,” she whispers. “Why does it get so cold in here?”
But Ezra has gone quiet.
Mallory raises her head just as he lowers his hand, fist clenched around the tissues, the blood at his nose slowed to a dull trickle.