Chapter 22
Idon’t expect to fall asleep quickly; I figure I’ll spend hours drowning in fruitless self-pity. Not to mention the general discomfort of sleeping in a car. A cold car. But when my eyelashes flutter open to show me a snow-blanketed forest lit by an unearthly glow, I know I must be dreaming. A glance down at the gorgeous gown that swirls around my legs in glistening silver folds confirms it. I walk aimlessly through the sparse forest, snowflakes dotting my skin with a burst of chill against my otherwise warm body. The wide train of the dress skims the powdered snow behind me, leaving a shallow trail that curls through the trees as I circle and weave, not hurried, but looking for something. His profile is the first thing I see. As always, his hair is pulled back at the nape of his neck, though a few tendrils lie in wispy streaks on his tanned cheeks. A cloak covers his shoulders, veiling his body in a blackness that almost blends in with the tree he’s leaning against. He turns his head and leaf-green eyes meet mine. My chest convulses and I suck in a gasp of air at the sight of him. His eyes look through me, into me, seeing my soul. After a moment of contemplation—as if discovering something inside me that surprised him—his face relaxes into a smile. He holds out one gloved hand, and as his fingers come together, a bloodred rose appears between them. “I knew you would come to me. ” Quinn’s words break an unseen barrier and I’m running, my bare feet silent in the soft snowfall. The rose drops to the ground when his arms stretch out, a mirror to my own as we reach. Reach. Reach. My body slams into his warm chest and his hands are on my cheeks, pulling me near, grasping at the back of my neck. I don’t have time to raise my eyelids before his mouth finds mine, his lips soft. It’s as though a dam has broken inside us and every longing, every moment of wishing, is released. Fingertips graze down my sides, then curl behind my back, pulling me in harder, closer. I grasp his shirt, thin white linen beneath his cloak, and pull him down. Or maybe I’m lifting myself up. Whatever it takes to be nearer. As near as two souls can be without blending into one. His lips leave my mouth, and before I can make a sound of protest they find my neck, the hollow of my pulse. My fingers run through his hair and I tug the hair tie away so the strands tumble around my hand, silk against my skin, as good as I knew it would feel. With a reluctant growl Quinn pulls back. His hands cup my face and his eyes bore into mine. “I have things to show you,” he says, and my whole body stills at the seriousness laced through his words. “Then show me,” I whisper with greater effort than I think it should take. My words are a puff of mist in the air that hangs unnaturally between us for a few seconds before an errant wind blows it away. Quinn draws me back against him and his mouth settles near my cheek. “I have things to show you,” he whispers again, his lips brushing the tips of my ear, making a shiver course down my spine. Then he pulls back and there’s a strange shadow in his eyes. His arms fall from my waist and he takes a few steps backward. Then he turns. And walks away. “Quinn?” The words are a whisper. It’s my dream; he can’t walk away. “Quinn?” Louder now, my voice echoes off the trees, making the icicles rattle. “Quinn!” The trees shake at my piercing cry; the icicles clatter to the ground. I lift my skirts and try to run after him, but the forest is darkening around me and soon I can’t see anything. I fling my arms out in front of me and grope through the darkness, my palms scraping painfully against blade-sharp bark each time I find a tree. Soon I can feel blood running down my arms, warm and thick. Over and over I call his name, knowing somehow that if I can just find him, I can escape this darkness. The cold that was unable to touch me just minutes ago sears into my bones, and soon I stagger and fall. Then the snow collapses beneath me and the cold multiplies drastically. I flail about, and as I lift my face heavenward, I realize I’m back in the drowning dream. The icy water cuts to my bones as blackness closes over my head. Quinn . . . Quinn . . . My thoughts get quieter as pain envelops me and I let go. I clap my hand over a scream as I try to make out my dark, unfamiliar surroundings. Reese’s BMW. I’m safe. I’m alive. Settling back against the seat, I lie in the darkness as waves of emotion wash over me, swirling into eddies that shake my body from within. Fear, longing, and desperation in an overwhelming blend. Not simply desperation for Quinn, but for answers, explanations. I know nothing, and it traps me as surely as an iron chain. Outside the car, something flutters in the darkness. The windows are fogged from the heat of our bodies, and I lift my sleeve to clear a circle in the misty glass. Something moves. They found me! My entire body tenses up and I’m about to elbow Benson awake when I see a flash of golden hair. “Quinn. ” The real Quinn. His name escapes my mouth in a barely audible whisper as he draws nearer. He’s close to the window now, his eyes boring into mine. He crooks his finger at me and then turns and walks out of sight. I click the door locks, and the sound seems deafening in the quiet interior. Thankfully, Benson doesn’t stir. I try to slip out without waking him, but as soon as the door opens, the dome light floods the car with light. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a scratchy voice, pushing up on his elbows. “Gotta pee,” I lie. “Go back to sleep. ” Benson’s eyes are already closing as I slip out, the cold air hitting me like a slap after the warmth of our bodies in the car. It’s snowing hard, and the world around me has that intense hush that only heavy, powdery snowfall brings. I clasp my arms around myself and peer into the darkness, through the huge lacy flakes, but I don’t see Quinn. I hope I’m not making a mistake. Quinn wouldn’t lure me out into danger, though; I know it! Nonetheless, I peer into the darkness around me and my chest is tight as I see nothing but stillness. I glance back at the car. Benson will worry if I’m gone long. Determined to get my answers as quickly as possible, I take off in the direction I think Quinn went. The snow is already an inch or two deep and I look down at my tracks. I can follow them back if I’m fast. My head is low, studying the camouflaged ground, when I hear it. “Miss. Miss?” Miss? My head whips around, and for a moment I see nothing. Then a flicker of movement in the trees makes my heart race. A face emerges and, if anything, my pulse speeds even faster. He’s beautiful in the moonlight, a dark, snow-spotted coat wrapping him from his neck to his ankles, his face soft and almost expressionless. “I knew you would come to me. ” The wind carries the soft words to my ears, and for a moment I think I’m back in my dream. He lifts his hands as though to reach for me—exactly like he did in the dream—and I have to stop myself from running to him, from burrowing into his arms with the same abandon I felt in that illusionary forest. When I hesitate, he lets his hands fall and the moment is gone. Why didn’t I go to him? I’m not sure I know the answer. Quinn turns his head before I can see if there’s disappointment in his eyes. “I . . . I dreamed about you. ” My words are a low murmur, but they sound loud in the stillness around us. “But you already know that, don’t you?” His jaw tightens. Answer enough. “You made a rose in my dream,” I say, and my chest is tight in anticipation. “You’re like me. You . . . you make things. ” Again he doesn’t answer, but I’m sure I’m right. “Quinn, please, what am I? What are we?” The word Earthbound flashes through my head again, but it brings more questions than answers. “I have things to show you,” he says simply. “This way. ” He turns and heads directly into the woods without looking back to see if I’m following. The same words. That weird cadence. I have things to show you. Not I have something to show you. I hesitate before I step into the spidery shadows of the branchless trees. It’s like every horror movie I’ve ever seen. The kind where the stupid girl ends up dead. But isn’t this what I wanted? Didn’t I drive all the way up here to find him? I search my feelings, straining for something—a sign, an omen, I don’t know—but even though my head is spinning and my fingertips tingle, it’s with anticipation, not fear. With one more glance at the dark car where Benson still sleeps, I pull out my phone and turn it on. Four new messages: three from Jay and one from an unknown number. I close the notifica
tion and activate the flashlight feature before plunging into the blackness of the forest, following Quinn. Remembering the darkness in the dream, I rub my arms and shiver. Quinn is like a will-o’-the-wisp, always ten feet ahead no matter how fast or slow I walk. I’ve given up trying to catch him; it only makes him go faster. Better to focus on not running into bushes or low-hanging branches—I already have one stinging scrape on my cheek. The fear I pushed away when I started following Quinn is back. Even if Quinn won’t hurt me, I’m completely exposed. Not to mention that I’ve left Benson totally unprotected. If anyone found the car—Sunglasses Guy, Elizabeth, hell, who knows how many people are looking for me—they could easily off Benson and then put a bullet in my head from behind. Worst of all, in this forest, my body might never be found. The thought sends a new chill up my spine and I clench my fists and force myself to pick up the pace. It’s too late to turn back—I’m just going to have to deal with the consequences.