The Collector by Victoria Scott
“Until she dies, or he kills her off, and she takes my place in hell?” I interrupt. “Max, I’m so sorry about what happened to you. No one should have to lose the person they care about, which is why I have to fight for her.” I move closer to Max and slap him on the shoulder. “I can run. Faster than you can imagine. I can protect her soul, and I can keep one step ahead of the collectors.” I smile. “Even you.”
Max backs away. “I’ve already lost my girl.”
I know what he means. He’s lost her. He can’t lose me, too. But he’s not going to say that. Saying it makes it real. Part of me wants to scream for Max to stay, for him to help me protect Charlie. But I can’t ask that of him. I can’t ask him to risk eternal pain and suffering for someone he doesn’t know. So instead, I rush across the room, pull him into a hug, and slap his back hard. “I love you, Max. Now get the hell out of here. I can take care of myself.” I give him the best smile I got, the one that says I’m confident and self-assured and can tackle Lucifer with my bare hands.
Max’s eyes water, and he rubs them roughly, like he’s pissed off at his body’s reaction. “Screw you, man.”
I smile and raise my middle finger. “Right back at ya.”
He shakes his head and laughs. Then he opens the door, glances over his shoulder, and nods good-bye.
Chapter Forty-one
Charlie Out
I wake up feeling like I spent the last three days in a massage parlor. My muscles are relaxed, and I feel refreshed, like I could climb Mount Everest or build an ark or cure the world of minivans.
Then I glance at the clock on the nightstand.
Noon.
I’ve had a standing wake-up call set for every day, but I’m guessing I slept through it. Not surprising, since Max didn’t leave until almost 4:00 a.m. Thinking about my best friend, my heart clenches. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. And if I do, if he’ll be chasing me down with a pitchfork.
I climb out of bed and pull on a T-shirt, jeans, and my red sneakers. Then I half-jog to Elizabeth Taylor and speed toward Centennial High.
One goal has my attention this morning, and that’s finding Charlie. I’ve got to get her alone so I can explain everything in a way that doesn’t make her hate me. Maybe I can tell her Big Guy has changed his mind on the contract, and that he’ll be pissed if she asks for any more beauty. Maybe that way I can avoid telling her what I really am.
I pull up outside the school and make my way inside right as Charlie’s lunch hour starts. Perfect. I won’t even have to drag her out of class. Nearing her table, I realize Annabelle is the only one there. I glance around, searching for Charlie or Blue, and see neither.
Annabelle’s stops eating her chips when she sees me. “Hey.”
“Where is everyone?” I ask. “Why are you sitting alone?”
She takes a swig of her drink. “Charlie bailed.”
“Bailed? What do you mean ‘bailed’? Like she skipped school?”
Annabelle bobs her head from side to side. “Kind of. She came for the first half, then just a few minutes ago, she said she wasn’t feeling it and that there were too many people.”
“Too many people? What does that even mean?” My brain isn’t able to process this information. Charlie never ditches. Someone always has to talk her into it, that someone usually being me. “Did she leave with someone?”
“Yeah, she left with Natalie. The girl that asked Charlie about her hair that time. Remember?”
I think back, trying to place the girl’s face. I remember she was hot and reeked of money and popularity, which is why I don’t understand why she’d ask Charlie to skip with her.
Annabelle seems to read my mind, because she says, “Something about Charlie is off today. I mean, even this morning. It’s like she came to school this whole different person, like she’s trying to prove something.”
The way she’s talking makes me nervous. I don’t know what’s gotten into Charlie, but I need to find her. Stat. “Do you know where she went?”
She shakes her head. “No, but Blue went with her.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse that Blue’s with her. I decide on worse. I run a hand through my hair and think. Peachville isn’t big, but it’s big enough to hide in.
“Don’t you see?” Annabelle says, interrupting my thoughts. She tilts her head and stares up at me. “That girl’s lost her head to you.”
I look at her for a long time, like she just grew a third eye—one that sees right through my crap. My chest constricts, and inside, buried deep beneath skin and bone and muscle, I pray what she says is true. That Charlie has fallen for me. It’s a selfish wish, because it’ll be easier to keep her safe with a level head. But I can’t help the jig my heart performs at hearing Annabelle’s words. If they are, in fact, true.
“Thanks, Annabelle. Seriously.” I start to move away, ready to jump in my car and drive all over Peachville if that’s what it takes to find Charlie. But Annabelle surprises me by reaching over and grabbing my wrist.
“She’s going to a party tonight. At Natalie’s house. Near Preston and Parker, I think.” She lets go of me. “I don’t know what you’ve done to her, Dante, but you better make it right. Understand?” With that, she gets up and walks away, and I can’t help thinking she had that speech and dramatic exit planned in case I showed today.
Still, she’s right. I need to make this right. I’m just not sure how. An orange-and-black-clad table catches my eye. I glance over to see people crowded around, buying tickets to the Halloween dance tomorrow night. Inwardly, I sigh. But I know it’s not going to get better dragging my feet.
I make my way over and wait my turn to shell out sixty bucks for a pair of tickets to the last thing I’d ever like to do. Then I shoot the student council chick beaming at me a mocking grin and stuff the tickets into my pocket. Maybe this will help win Charlie over—a gesture of the things I’m willing to do to make her happy. With any luck, she’ll agree we can’t actually go, that we’ve got to get as far away from Peachville as quickly as possible.
Two days. That’s all I have left after today before Boss Man calls my assignment a bust. Will he send the other collectors in? That is, the ones not already stalking me?
I hop inside Elizabeth Taylor and spend the next three hours searching for Charlie. I swing by her house, I walk around inside the mall…I even go by the town square and glance though all the restaurant windows. For the first time in my life, I curse myself for not having a cell phone, and I curse Grams for not getting Charlie one. If I wasn’t about to go on the run, I’d get one of those smartphones that people hunch over all day like shitting dogs.
When I’ve looked everywhere I can think of, I decide to circle back by her house. If she’s not there, I’ll have to wait it out until the party. Pulling up beside the curb, I kill the engine and walk to the door. I knock several times, then ring the doorbell an ungodly number of times. If there’s anyone in there, they’ve got the temperament of a coma patient.
I back up a few steps and glance up at her window. It’s obvious no one’s home, but I decide to check if her window’s open. Maybe I can leave her a note to call the hotel. I scale up the lattice and nearly scream a victory cry when the glass of her window slides up beneath my palm. Though I’m thrilled it’s open, it also makes me nervous. I don’t like thinking of Charlie being so exposed.
Inside her room, I search for anything that might clue me on where she is, but I can’t tell if anything’s different. It’s strange being in here without her. A sense of longing twists through me when I look at her bed. I remember holding hands, jumping on the mattress like a couple of idiots. Thinking back, I should have known it then, known she was working her way under my skin. It’s no wonder she was born to change the world, seeing how easily she changed me.
I feel desperate to see her. Even though I saw her briefly last night, it wasn’t enough. There are things I need to tell her, but that’s not the only rea
Charlie, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. It’s regarding the thing we signed. Call me at Wink Hotel. I’ll be waiting.
I stare at the note and try to decide how to sign my name. Dante? Love, Dante? Obsessed with you, Dante? I feel like a freakin’ twelve-year-old, like I’m seconds away from zits and wet dreams.
Shaking my head, I decide on: —D
Folding up the note, I lay it on her pillow. Then I decide that’s too creepy and move it to the dresser. Then back to the pillow. I let out a frustrated groan, because I’m getting on my own nerves.
It’s time to leave, I realize. Because being caught in her room really would make me a creeper. I’m moving toward the window when something catches my eye. There are two tin cans near the wall next to her bed. Narrowing my eyes, I walk toward them, then bend down.
Sherwin-Williams. One can of primer, one can of red paint. My hands ball into fists. I should be happy she’s doing this. She told me herself she wanted to repaint her room. I wonder if Blue knows she’s repainting her room. I wonder if he’s asking if she wants a ride to the party tonight. I wonder if he knows what being strangled feels like.
Sliding her window open, I steal one last look around her room. Then I crawl out and climb down. There’s nothing else I can do now. I’ve got to get back to Wink Hotel and wait for a call that may never come—while Charlie’s out there…changing.
Chapter Forty-two
Party Charlie
Charlie doesn’t call. This tiny fact crushes me like a bug.
Earlier today, I had a clear goal: keep Charlie safe. But now I’m just trying to hold onto my freaking sanity.
I feel like a maniac, pacing the floors of my hotel, replaying everything she’s ever said to me. Her words, they’re like pieces of a puzzle, and I’m sticking them together to see what they create. What does the picture say? Does she feel the same way I do? Am I sure?
At 10:00 p.m., I decide I can’t wait another minute. I change into a button-down shirt and pull on a belt. All in all, my wardrobe takes thirty seconds to update. About as much time as I ever spend getting ready, but tonight it feels like an eternity.
Grabbing my car keys, I go outside and slide inside Elizabeth Taylor. Even this small act brings on a pang of nerves. After all, she’s the one who named my ride. I’ve known Charlie for nine days, yet she’s touched so much of my life that I can’t escape the thought of her.
I blast the radio and drive to where I know I’ve seen Preston Road. Then I head down it until I see Parker. Turning right, I see short, squat houses kept in pristine condition. It’s a neighborhood built to emulate the rich.
After a few minutes, the houses become farther apart, and I decide I’m headed in the right direction. I may not have the exact address for my GPS, but I shouldn’t have a problem finding Natalie’s pad. Party locales are almost always in the middle of nowhere so the po-pos don’t bust them. I lean over my steering wheel and catch a glimpse of cars parked alongside the road. As I get closer, I realize just how many there are, and I know I’ve found the place.
Parking Elizabeth Taylor, I kill the engine and click off my seat belt. I’m about to head inside when I stop. It’s been forever since I’ve come to a party alone. Not like I care—it just feels strange. This must be what dorks feel like. I decide I’ll pour a little out for the nerds of the world next chance I get.
I walk up the long driveway and open the door. I’m three steps inside when a girl dressed as a slutified sailor runs toward me. I recognize her immediately as Natalie, the chick who talked Charlie into skipping this afternoon.
“No. Stop,” she says, stabbing a manicured nail in my direction.
I wonder what I’ll do if she tries to kick me out. Maybe I’ll join an alien conspiracy group, decide anything’s possible.
“Take off your shoes. Do you see this?” She points toward the cream-colored carpet. “My parents will kill me if anyone jacks it up.”
“Then prepare thyself because you’re having a party, sweetheart. That carpet’s hours are numbered.”
“Off,” she repeats. “Now.”
“I’m not taking them off,” I tell her. And I mean it. If I have to wrestle her to the ground, my babies aren’t coming off. “Where’s Charlie?” I quickly add.
“She’s in the barn.”
“You have a barn? Seriously?”
“Take your shoes off.”
I try to move past her, but she steps in front of me.
“I will mace you,” she says. “In the face…I will mace you.”
As I strategize how to come at Natalie—like a linebacker, or a raving lunatic, or perhaps both—I spot Annabelle near the back of the house. I think I must be imagining things, but no, it’s her. Charlie must have made a quick climb up the social ladder to get herself and her friend an invite to this party.
“Annabelle,” I call out. She doesn’t hear me, or if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
Sensing I might make a break for it, Natalie pushes a palm to my chest. “Down, boy.”
“Woman, you’re getting on my last nerve.” I consider going around the house to avoid taking off my beloved reds, but I need to talk to Annabelle. Shaking my head, I kick off my Chucks and throw them in a heap with the others near the door. “Happy?”
“Elated.”
“I care.”
“This is my house, you know?”
“Whatev.”
I move past her and toward where I last saw Annabelle. It seems she’s disappeared into the crowd. I’d love to pick her mind, get the lowdown on Charlie before I face her. Is she still pissed? Still being weird?
But it appears I’m on my own.
Grabbing a beer from the kitchen counter, I make my way out back and immediately search for her. There are people everywhere, even more than at Taylor’s party a week ago. Some are dressed in costumes, and all are completely plastered.
A chick in a cowgirl getup grabs my hands and starts to sway to the music. She’s dancing like it’s a slow song, though it’s anything but.
“Dance with me,” she slurs. “Like Romeo and Juliet.”
What?
“Gotta go, babe.” I push her onto the closest guy I see. When she lands in his arms, he smiles like I just handed him a bib and a warm teat—which I kinda did. “Where’s the barn?” I ask the guy.
He nods toward the woods, and I spot a dirt path winding through tall, barren trees.
Why does everyone’s backyard here look like a set for a horror movie?
I kill my beer and shove it in the guy’s hand. His tongue is so far down the girl’s mouth, he doesn’t even notice where it came from. He just wraps his hand around it and moans as if the empty can just added to his overall enjoyment.
I make my way toward the path but stop before setting foot on it. Glancing around, I notice a pile of white socks. Guess I’m going barefoot. I pull off my own socks and toss them in with the rest. It’ll be the last time I ever see them, because I’m sure as hell not chancing picking up someone else’s on my way out. The thought alone makes me cringe.
Dirt from the path rubs between my toes as I follow a barefoot couple holding hands farther ahead. It takes a solid five minutes of walking before I see the barn. I have no idea why anyone would build this thing so far from the house, but my guess is someone in Natalie’s family is enjoying less-than-honest recreational activities out here.
The barn is red, which brings a smile to my lips. I do enjoy red barns. I mean, if there’s one thing in this world that’s meant to be red, it’s a barn. And that’s a damn fact.
Inside, I can see people dancing and sitting on squares of hay. Above their drunken heads, multicolored lights are strung across wooden rafters. In the center of the strands, a small disco ball dangles on a cord, spinning and casting dots of white light across smiling cheeks and laughing mouths. This barn was b
My eyes take in everything before landing on her—on Charlie. She’s standing on a bale of hay and is dancing back-to-back with another girl. Draped over her slender body is confidence I’ve never seen before. Confidence I was all prepared to teach her about. I notice it in the way she moves, the way she laughs. My mouth falls open when I see what she’s wearing.
Thin, bare legs stretch out from tiny, barely there white shorts. She raises her arms over her head and does the drunk-girl anthem scream. As she does, her low-cut red silk blouse tugs upward, exposing her midriff. I want to walk right over there and flip her over my shoulder. I want to rip that shirt back down so the guy sitting near her, ogling her, will mind his fucking manners.
But I wait. I want her to see me, and I want to see the look on her face when it happens.
She turns in my direction, and my heart pounds something furious. And then it stops, right there in my chest, just forgets its purpose and refuses to function. Her eyes don’t fall on me, but no matter, mine are on her. Her lips are pulled into a wide smile, and she’s laughing at something Ogle Boy is yelling up at her.
Charlie’s mouth has always been beautiful. Full, plump lips. A small pink tongue. A delicate line running from the bottom of her nose to the top of those adorable lips. But her teeth, they were always wrong—a stop sign on a busy highway. The only thing that kept her from being every dentist’s fantasy.
But as I step closer, I see I’m not imagining things. That her teeth are white and straight and that everyone she smiles at seems drawn to smile right back. Her mouth, it’s become contagious. Addictive.
A secret weapon that just reached its fullest potential.
She’s asked for more beauty. And I wasn’t there to stop her. I shove my way toward her, and she finally spots me. Her face pulls into a smile, the biggest I’ve seen tonight.
Then it’s gone.