I turn to take in the landscape, and a fresh mound of dirt snags my attention.
“Crap,” I whisper. Who knows what grave robbing scheme they’ve hooked themselves into? Maybe I don’t have to worry about Flanders taking her to bed. If the misdemeanors keep piling up, the only place he’s going to land her is prison.
I circle around the mess and glance down at the massive hole to find a dirt-riddled casket staring back at me.
I glance up at the stone inscription, and my heart bottoms out.
Wesley Adam Parker
What the hell kind of Halloween prank is this? Would Coop stoop this far to get into her pants? What the hell kind of demented idiot is he?
I glance around for clues, for reality, but there’s nothing for miles with the exception of motel light blinking on and off in the distance. Cider Plains Inn. Free Internet. HBO.
Cider Plains?
An image of a ranch house, with a large barn in the back, bounces in and out of my mind.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and that hole in the ground pulsates like it’s itching to swallow me in one easy bite.
“What the hell,” I say, slipping into the open mouth of the earth. “Let do this,” I hiss, pulling back the casket.
A pang of terror hits me like a train. A familiar face stares back at me, and I stumble as far as the dirt will allow.
“Shit!” I slam it shut as if the corpse inside were fighting its way out. My heart races—both my body and mind go numb. “There’s no way she was right.” I slip the coffin back open and force myself to stare at the monster that bears my resemblance.
A thousand excuses stream through my mind on why in the hell I’ve got a lookalike buried in a town called Cider Plains. Each excuse disintegrates to nothing. Every road to reason congests with the ugly truth forming around me.
I reach down to touch him, and my hand draws back like it met up with a snake.
His fingers have been gnawed off. I lean in a little closer. Snapped off? I touch his flesh, insert my finger in the hollow fold of his hand.
Shit.
“It’s a fake.” I huff a quiet laugh. My heart pulsates through my ears. My brain rattles around like a Ping-Pong from the fear and elation picking up steam. “A fucking fake.” I pull back his jacket, tear open his shirt and pound my fist through his hollow mannequin body. Wesley Parker was nothing but a cheap imitation. He never existed and never will. I knew it. And, now, maybe Laken, knows it too.
A white square catches my attention, peering out from the inside pocket. It’s a picture. I pluck it out and hold it up under the pristine moon glaring down from above.
A breath gets caught in my lungs. It feels as if all of gravity is pressing down over my shoulders.
It’s Laken and me in the parking lot just behind the snack shack. Fletcher is in the background, photo bombing the picture with his hands spread wide, the fake look of surprise plastered across his face. I’m in my football uniform, and she’s kissing me with her leg hiked up in the back like she did tonight with Coop.
I give a dull laugh. Then, in a moment, the world changes—the air, the fertile soil, the light scent of a storm on its way—it all feels far too familiar.
I don’t play football. Ephemeral doesn’t have a snack shack.
The word Hedgehogs is emblazed on the side of the helmet that dangles from my hand.
“What the hell?” I mouth the words, rubbing my thumb over the tiny print as if it might somehow magically change the image. I look up at the blank night sky and think of Laken. Where are you?
I close my eyes—try to focus my energy on where they might have gone next, and I can feel the scenery transform around me.
My feet land on solid ground, a door with the number 15 emblazoned on the front appears before me.
A large red sign blinks spastic to my left. Cider Plains Motel.
I glance out at the area. The old mill with its archaic silos in the distance, the bridle trail to the left of the street—I recognize this place. My head explodes in a photographic seizure as an entire series of still-lifes flash before my eyes. It all comes back to me in snatches. Laken and me in the park holding hands, a poor man’s bouquet of dehydrated maple leaves cleverly hidden behind my back. Fletch and me in an entire montage to childhood—t-ball, running, fishing in a lake that would one day change our destinies.
My body begins to tremble as I take it all in. A fissure opened in my mind and now a flood, an entirely different existence is filling in the cracks. All of those thoughts that wadded just beneath the surface, those strange dreams that haunted me, those feelings of not quite belonging, all of them explained in an instance.
I launch my body against the door and begin kicking my way inside.
“Laken!” My voice echoes through the still of the night like thunder.
A car alarm goes off in the distance, taking up the slack for the rest of the world. All of creation should scream for the injustice that’s happening here. There isn’t enough rage in the world to convey how I feel.
I push into the door with my arm and think of Coop defiling her with his body until my Countenance strength kicks in. The door flies open as if it didn’t want the beating to continue.
The lights are on, but the room sits empty.
“Laken?” I bolt to the bathroom and throw back the shower curtain.
They’re gone.
I stagger back into the room and note the bedding looks rumpled, but nothing that indicates anything serious.
Maybe there’s still time to tell her she’s right—that I’m going to fight like hell to make sure we stay together.
I close my eyes and think of her, of where she might be and feel myself slipping away.
I’m coming, Laken.
The scenery fills in as a stone grey night appears around me. Towering evergreens line either side of the road. They drone on in rows like demonic shadows dipped in a fog as thick as the lies I’ve been forced to swallow. A lit sign wafts in and out of existence from across the street, Welcome to Paragon Island.
Paragon. That’s where Skyla is from.
I step onto the silent highway and feel the gravitational pull as my body hungers for the girl I love—the girl I’ve always loved.
“I’m here, Laken,” I whisper. “I can make this all better. I know I can.”
We’ll navigate this angelic minefield together.
Wesley Parker is back, and Coop better get the hell out of my way because there’s not a damn thing he can do to stop me.
Thank you for reading Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2). If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or your point of purchase. Look for Entropy, the final book in the Countenance Trilogy coming late 2013.
Acknowledgements
To my often insane and yet perfectly awesome family. Thank you for putting up with my marathon writing and editing sessions. And especially for understanding that the answer to “what should we have for dinner” is always sushi.
Big, thank you to Sarah Joy Freese for your ninja editing skills. I’m so impressed at the velocity in which you answered all the millions of emails I’ve sent. I’m sure at times it felt as though you were playing Whack A Mole with your inbox. Thankfully all the drama and trauma is over—until the next book.
Giant thank you to Diane S. and Christina Kendler for the amazing extra pair of eyes! I so, so, SO appreciate all of your hard work! You do far too much, for far too little, and I’m forever indebted.
Thanks a million to my wonderful readers, you bless me every day. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your kindness and support. It’s a thrill to share my mental musings with you. I hope you enjoyed the triple point of view in this book as much as I did writing it. I love you like family.
To Him whom every knee shall bow—to your name be the glory, and power, and honor, forever. Your word is manna for my hungry soul. I owe you everything.
About the Author
&nb
sp; Addison Moore is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who writes contemporary and paranormal romance. Previously she worked as a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children and two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading.
Feel free to visit her blog at: http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Addison-Moore/140192649382294
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AddisonMoore
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Prologue
1 - The Slaughter of Plenty
2 - The Heat is On
3 - Hearts like Broken Glass
4 - In the Belly of the Fire
5 - A Pearl in the Night
6 - Dearly Departed
7 - Sweet Little Lies
8 - Love is a Battlefield
9 - All Hallows Evil
10 - Tenebrous Terror
11 - Monsters and Demons
12 - Digging for the Truth
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Addison Moore, Evanescent
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