Chapter 2
I wanted to stay cuddled up on that bench for the rest of my life. But as the fae magic faded, even sitting next to Wickham wasn't warm enough to stop my teeth from chattering. So we headed back.
“I had fun, Lydia. You’re easy to hang out with. Do you mind if we stop by the amphitheater real quick before we walk to my car? I have something I want to give you.”
“You want to give me something?” I didn’t laugh, but it was a pinch too adorable for words.
“It’s just a guitar pick—you know— luck for the new year and all.” The right corner of his mouth raised, and he shrugged.
I melted.
“I’d love that.” The night was almost too perfect, and I prayed he was as interested in me as I was in him. A New Year's Eve kiss was romantic, but part of me worried it might be his standard mode of operation. Maybe he kissed every girl he took on a first date.
We went around to the back of the amphitheater, and Wickham pulled out a key. We stepped into a dark room, and he flipped on the lights.
I jumped back, screaming louder than I had in my entire life.
Alex lay on the floor in a puddle of water with a snapping electrical wire bouncing near his bare feet. His aura had vanished, which was impossible for the living. My knees buckled.
Hyperventilation replaced my screams. “What is happening!”
Wickham’s eyes widened, and he scanned the room. Then he darted to the fuse box and flipped a few switches. The air around us snapped, and when he cut the power, the wire fell like a dead serpent.
Wickham flipped the lights back on, startling me. But he shook his head. “It's okay now. The live cord was connected to the front of the stage, not the lights back here. We’re safe.”
A burning electric stench tinged the air, and a faint stream of smoke rose from Harvey’s body. Burn marks scorched his fingertips and toes and the surrounding ground.
My vision blurred, so I took a calming breath, trying to figure out what to do.
“I’m calling 911.” I don’t know why it took so long to think of that.
“Yes.” Wickham nodded, then paused, placing his hand on my wrist. “Wait, don’t. This isn’t about me, but it is going to look terrible. Just give me one minute to process.”
“What? Why? Wickham, he’s dead. It’s clearly an accident. We’ve got to call.” I pulled my arm away and retrieved my phone from my pocket.
But Wickham's thoughts were elsewhere and his gaze distant. His face grew ghostly as he stared at Alex. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he ran both hands together through his hair. “Certainly an accident, but Lydia, there are some complications. Everyone knows Alex and I haven’t been getting along, and the loan I took from him a while back is pretty substantial. I keep getting blamed for things . . .”
I ran my hand over his forearm. “We’ve been together all evening. I’m your alibi.”
Except for the few minutes you ran to get the hot cocoa. But I wasn't going to mention that.
Wickham heard nothing I said and crouched on the floor with his hands cupping the back of his head. So I knelt beside him and patted his shoulder. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
My words snapped Wickham out of whatever daze he’d been in. He rubbed his eyes and blinked. Then he stood up and helped me to my feet. “…secrets and lies. Lydia, I’m so sorry. Things have been a little chaotic in my life lately. This feels like I’ve been set up.”
“Set up? You mean framed for Alex’s death? His accidental death.” I studied his face, but the electrical stench overpowered my senses. “Let’s go talk outside. Standing next to Alex’s body is stressing me out.”
George Wickham had never come across as unhinged or paranoid before.
He was always the coolest, most gorgeous, talented guy around.
So either he was finally losing it, or his reaction was justified.
He allowed his gaze to fall on Alex’s lifeless body.
“We can sit in my car and talk. I’ll try to explain. ”
Icy air blasted us as we headed outside to his Jeep, which was parked next to the amphitheater. From his car, we'd be able to survey the scene just in case something shady was happening. He opened my door and helped me step inside, then he hopped into the other side and turned on the heat.
I rubbed my fingers in front of the vents and thanked the stars that the Jeep had heated seats. The new-car scent mixed with vanilla soothed my nerves. “Okay, this is so much better. Now tell me what you’re so freaked out about.”
“I should just tell you.” Wickham’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ve had some unexpected legal issues. They’re not connected, but I’m worried they’ll make me appear guilty.”
“Wickham, I want to help you, but you’re going to have to be honest with me because, right now, calling the police is the only logical thing to do.” I clutched my phone and had already dialed 911, but waited for his explanation before hitting send.
Wickham chewed his bottom lip and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m just gonna . . . Lydia, I can’t exactly say it. But I had a recent encounter with a vampire, and now . . .”
He paused as though it was too painful to continue.
I blinked several times and sighed. The cliché alone. “Cool. I mean, like, nowadays, isn’t vampirism just like a medical diagnosis?”
Wickham’s jaw dropped. "No! Well, kind of, and I’ve promised myself not to hurt anyone. But it’s also illegal. It’s a very big deal. Most people who know about it never want to talk to me again. Fae authorities have imprisoned people for being vampires."
My initial reaction was too callous. He was suffering, and more than anything, I wanted to comfort him.
“I get it. Sorry. I’m not trying to invalidate you at all.
It’s just—well, I’m also used to people always thinking I’m guilty of something just by being myself.
I don't mean to be so much more energetic than my sisters, but the label actually has its advantages because many people are afraid to mess with me. Plus, being a vampire itself can’t be illegal, right?
As long as you're getting your hemoglobin from an ethical source, you shouldn't have to worry. It’s a specialized diet, but hey, I can’t have gluten, and I enjoy steak, so . . .”
Wickham continued to stare at me as if I were speaking Greek. He took a slow breath, a slip of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head. “You’re not what I expected, Lydia.”
I shrugged. “I’d say the same to you, but I’m honestly not surprised. You’re crazy good-looking, a rock star, cool, charismatic; you’ve got a dark academia vibe. Plus, you’ve got those piercing brown eyes—probably hypnotized me into falling for you. I’m surprised I didn’t put it together sooner.”
“But aren’t you scared I’ll bite you?” He leaned closer to me and caressed my neck. “You smell ravishing.”
“So do you. Soap, sandalwood, cedar, and a little pine, right? I’m a witch. Are you scared I’ll cast a spell on you?” I leaned even closer, somehow forgetting altogether why we were in the parking lot.
Wickham’s dimpled grin spread across his face, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “No. Wait, did you say falling for me?”
And then we had our second kiss. Whether fueled by adrenaline following the confession, lingering fear, or Wickham's vulnerability, the kiss surpassed the first.
After a while, Wickham cradled my cheek in his hand. “How is it I feel like, with you around, everything is going to be alright?”
“Magic. I am a witch, after all. But we should probably still call the police," I said, remembering our whole reason for waiting there. "It will be fine."
We did. It wasn’t fine.