If I Die ss-5 Read online

  He ran one hand down my arm and my pulse spiked when his fingers splayed across my stomach. “We stand…”

  My desk chair creaked, and I looked up to find Tod sitting in it backward, facing away from us—the most courteous entrance he’d ever given us as a couple. And while most of me was frustrated by the disruption, some tiny part of me was also a little relieved—and confused by the discrepancy in my own emotions.

  “Hope I’m interrupting something.” The reaper swiveled to face us and Nash sat up, cheeks already flaming.

  “Get. Out,” Nash growled.

  Tod rolled his eyes. “I made Kaylee a promise. As usual, I’m just the messenger.”

  “What’s up, Tod?” I laid one hand on Nash’s arm before he could say anything else.

  “Mom’s in the kitchen with your dad, trying to talk him out of doing something stupid. It sounds like she could use your help.”

  5

  “There’s always an exception, Harmony,” my father said, and the raw pain in his voice stole my breath with an almost physical force. I was scared, and pissed off, and riding an unforeseen wave of sexual resolve in the face of certain death. But my father was in serious pain over a loss he refused to accept as inevitable.

  The fact that I was that loss was almost too much for me to wrap my mind around.

  I inched down the hall silently, aching to see my father’s face, but if they knew I was there, they’d stop talking, and I’d lose this glimpse into his true emotional state.

  “Aiden.” Harmony’s whisper was so soft I almost didn’t recognize it. “I am so, so sorry. I wish I could say I know how you feel, but I didn’t have any warning with Tod.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” my dad answered, his voice hard now, like he could hold off the unavoidable with nothing but sheer will. “There’s a way out of this, and I’m going to find it.”

  I peeked through the living room and into the kitchen just as Harmony scooted her chair closer to my father’s. They sat at the table with their backs to me, and I could only see them from the shoulders up, over the half wall separating the two rooms.

  “Aiden, there’s nothing you can do.” She slid one arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder, and I held my breath to make sure I could hear the rest. “Do you really want to miss your daughter’s last few days of life to chase answers that just aren’t there?”

  “I don’t want to miss anything. And I don’t want her to miss anything, either—that’s the whole point. I’ve been such a fool, Harmony. I wasted thirteen years of her life letting my brother raise her because it hurt to look at her. Every time I saw her, I saw her mother. I only got Kaylee back six months ago, and now she’s being taken away. Six months isn’t long enough!”

  “No one’s taking her away,” Harmony insisted gently. “Her time’s up. It happens to everyone.”

  “What would you do?” my dad demanded, pulling away from her. “If you knew Nash was about to die, would you ever quit looking for a way to stop it? Would you give up on him?”

  “I…”

  “It doesn’t matter what she would do.” I stepped around the wall, and Tod appeared at my side. Nash’s footsteps squeaked on the hall tile behind me, even though I’d asked them both to stay in my room.

  Harmony and my dad stood facing us, but they were both too good at hiding their feelings for me to read anything more than general angst. They were better at that than I would ever be, considering how little time I had left to perfect the art.

  “Dad, don’t do this,” I begged, frozen where I stood. “You can’t change this, and if you try, you’ll only be putting yourself at risk. Do you really want me to spend my last six days worrying that we’re both going to die on Thursday?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about anything.” He ran one hand through hair that showed no sign of graying, less than a month before his one hundred thirty-fourth birthday. “I want you to finish high school, and break curfew, and keep giving me excuses to toss the Hudson boys out of the house, not necessarily in that order. I want you to have a normal life. A long one.”

  I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears as he crossed the room toward me. “Well, that’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to be able to enjoy what life I have left if I’m worried about you getting yourself killed trying to do the impossible.”

  “Kaylee…” He reached for me, but I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Promise me, Dad. Promise you’ll leave this alone.”

  “You know I can’t—”

  “Promise,” I insisted, and his stoic expression crumpled beneath a burden of pain and responsibility I couldn’t imagine.

  “Fine. I promise,” he said at last, and I let him fold me into a hug.

  And as he squeezed me, his heart beating against my ear, I knew only two things for sure: I was going to die, and my father was lying.

  I stood on the front porch and knocked again—there was no doorbell—then stared down the rough gravel road at a series of run-down houses and old cars, their age and ruthless depreciation exposed by harsh March sunlight. My own neighborhood was dated—the houses were small with one-car garages and tiny yards. But compared to living in this part of town, I had nothing to complain about.

  Finally, the door opened and Sabine raised one dark brow at me, her hand still on the knob. “You look like shit.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” And I really meant it. I’d barely gotten any rest the night before—frankly, wasting what little time I had left sleeping felt almost criminal—and I was paying the price with pale skin, dark circles and a generally exhausted appearance. Sabine, on the other hand, only required four hours of sleep a night, yet she constantly walked the fine line between unconventionally hot and darkly captivating. A fact which fascinated and irritated me to no end.

  “Any chance you’re here to admit defeat and hand over your boyfriend, like the good little bean sidhe we both know you are?”

  My temper flared, but I held it in check, because of what I had to say next. “Actually, I need a favor.”

  Sabine turned around and stalked into the darkened house, and I decided the open door was as much of an invitation as I was going to get.

  “Is your foster mom home?” I followed her into a living room barely furnished with threadbare furniture smelling vaguely of old sweat.

  “Rarely. She stays with her boyfriend most nights. Always comes back to collect the reimbursement check, though.”

  “So you’re all alone?”

  Sabine propped her hands on hips half-exposed by the low waist of her jeans and the short hem of a thin black tank top. “I’m a nightmare, Kaylee. Anyone who breaks in here would leave screaming. Or not at all.” She sat on the arm of an old brown-and-yellow striped couch. “Besides, I didn’t come here for parental supervision—I came for an address in the Eastlake school zone.” The mara had scared and manipulated her way into this foster home just to be near Nash. And evidently to drive me insane. “Now, if you would just step down and relinquish the prize….”

  “Nash isn’t—” but before I could finish insisting that my boyfriend wasn’t a prize to be won, a fierce, low rumbling rolled over the room, raising hair all over my body. I turned to find Sabine’s dog—Styx’s littermate—growling at me from the kitchen doorway, his tiny body tensed and ready to attack. Nothing that small and fluffy should have been able to make such a threatening sound, but thanks to their Nether-hound father, the entire litter sported teeth that could easily shred flesh and jaws that could snap most human long bones.

  “What’s his name again?” I asked, careful not to make any threatening moves until Sabine had called the little monster off.

  “Cujo.”

  Of course it was Cujo. “Any clue why Cujo looks like he wants to chew my face off?”

  “Probably because he wants to chew your face off.”

  “Funny. Could you call him off?”

  Her satisfied grin grated
my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “Only because I’m curious. Why the hell should I do you a favor, when you consistently deny me the one thing I want?” She snapped her fingers and Cujo followed her into a tiny galley-style kitchen, where she pulled a package of raw hamburger from the fridge and dropped it on the floor with out even pulling back the plastic. Cujo dug in like he’d never seen meat before, though he looked pretty well fed to me.

  I stood at one end of the kitchen, trying to decide if I should sit at the table or wait to be invited. Which probably wasn’t gonna happen. “Because…” I hesitated, trying to make up my mind while she dug a can of generic soda from the snot-green fridge. Then I sucked in a deep breath and spit it out. “Because I’m going to be dead in five days, and whether I like it or not, you’re the one Nash is going to turn to when he’s half out of his mind with grief. Which means I’m practically doing you a favor.” If my death would benefit anyone, it would be Sabine. “That means you owe me. And considering the timetable I’m on, I’m gonna need payment up front.”

  Sabine popped the tab on her can and stared at me. “You’re dying? For real?”

  “Not till Thursday.” At first, the thought had made me sick to my stomach every single time it crossed my conscious mind. But after contemplating my own untimely demise roughly four thousand times, the original terror and denial had given way to a hollow, distant acceptance. Thinking about my own death now had about the same effect on me as thinking about the eventual incineration of planet Earth, as it’s consumed by its own sun.

  “You’re lying.” Sabine laughed like her life was a joke and I was the punch line. Then she drained half her can and brushed past me into the living room.

  I followed her and perched on the edge of the ugliest, most ancient brown recliner I’d ever seen. “Why would I lie?”

  She shrugged and set her can on the milk crate serving as an end table. “Habit? You’re not exactly a pillar of truth.”

  I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t without proving her point. But to my credit, my lies were really more half truths, and they were always intended to help someone. Whereas Sabine’s compulsive truths were usually intended to hurt someone else or to entertain her.

  “I’m not lying.” Another deep breath, and I nearly gagged on the acrid stench of stale cigarette smoke. Which I then spat out, along with an offer I really didn’t want to make. “Read me.”

  Sabine sat up straight, her black eyes suddenly bright with interest. “Seriously?”

  No. I shuddered, then swallowed my own bitter fear. “If that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

  She shrugged. “The offer itself was enough to make me believe you. But you can’t take it back now.” She crossed the small room in an instant, and my jaw clenched involuntarily when she dropped onto her knees in front of me. “You know I have to touch you, right? The stronger the contact, the better the reading.”

  “Great.” I held out my hand and she wound her fingers around mine, like I’d once seen her do with Nash when neither of them knew I was watching. Their contact had looked intimate. Comfortable. I wondered if ours would look the same from the outside.

  I started to close my eyes, but Sabine shook her head and leaned closer for a better look. Her hand was warm and dry, her grip firm. And as I watched, her pupils bled into the near-black of her irises, and the whole room seemed to dim around us.

  A cold wave of fear swam over me, consuming me. It was uncomfortable, like being the center of attention in a room full of hellions.

  Then that fear came into focus, and suddenly my own death was the only thing I could think about. Would it hurt? Would there be blood? Would anyone else have to see me die? Would I see them cry?

  Would I die alone?

  The lack of answers scared me almost worse than the questions themselves. But it was over in a second, and when Sabine let go of my hand, I realized she could have held on much longer.

  “Holy shit, you’re gonna die.” She looked stunned. “You’re really going to die, and you’re terrified of death.”

  “Is there a more rational reaction?”

  The mara frowned, and her eyes darkened again. “Also, you’re planning to sleep with Nash before you go, and you’re scared you won’t be any good.”

  Damn it. I could feel my cheeks burn. “Let’s just keep that bit between us, okay?”

  Her dark brows rose. “Is that the favor?”

  I scowled. “No.”

  “No promises, then. And just FYI, you won’t be any good. Not the first time, anyway.” I started to stand, my cheeks flaming now. Why couldn’t she help me, just this once, without throwing my own fears into my face? But Sabine put one hand on my arm and pulled me back onto the chair before I could stomp off. “You won’t be any good, but he won’t care, Kaylee. Because he’s a guy, so any sex is good sex. And because he loves you,” she added, lips curled like the words were bitter on her tongue.

  I blinked away unshed, angry tears, but couldn’t bring myself to thank her for softening the blow. Why was she antagonizing a dying woman anyway?

  “You know I can’t let this happen, right? You can’t sleep with him, Kaylee. You have to break up with him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, if I haven’t handed him over to you yet, why the hell would I do it now?”

  She blinked at me, like the answer should have been obvious. “Because he loves you, and you’re dying. If you don’t dump him now—make a clean break—you’re always going to be the tragic lost love. How the hell am I supposed to compete with a ghost?”

  “I don’t care how you compete!” But didn’t I, at least a little? As weird as it was to think about the two of them together, I wanted Nash to be happy after I died. I wanted him to be able to move on. But I couldn’t hurt him to make that happen.

  “Fine. Then think about him. He won’t see it now, but you’d be doing him a favor. Helping him move on.”

  “It’s not going to happen, Sabine.”

  “Is this about sex? No one should die a virgin—I agree with you there. But you don’t need Nash for that. I could make a phone call. Of course, you’d have to break up with Nash for this to work…”

  My head spun, and I didn’t know what to yell at her for first. So I decided to ignore the whole thing and focus on the favor I needed.

  “Sabine. As much fun as these little forays into my personal life always are—” fun, like public incontinence “—I really need a favor.”

  “Beyond me facilitating the timely loss of your virginity? ’Cause I think that’s a pretty generous offer.”

  “Yeah. You’re a walking charity. But I need you to find out what Mr. Beck is. And obviously I don’t have a lot of time.”

  Sabine watched me while she took a long drink from her can, pointedly not offering me one. “Why?”

  “Because I went to see Danica Sussman in the hospital, and she admitted that the baby wasn’t Max’s. And the nurse said the miscarriage nearly killed her, which is evidently pretty rare.”

  “Well, aren’t you the little sleuth?” Sabine raised both brows, reluctantly impressed. “I’d start calling you Veronica Mars, if you weren’t quite so mousy.” She grinned when I ground my teeth together, determined to bite my tongue until she agreed to help me.

  “So I was thinking maybe you were right. Maybe Mr. Beck is the father. I mean, if he’s not human, the baby wouldn’t have been fully human either, right? And that could explain why her miscarriage was so…awful. Right?”

  “I guess.” Sabine set her can on another milk crate and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I hope you’re not basing this on what I said at lunch. That was just a theory. I have lots of time to think those up while people are cowering away from me in the halls and avoiding my eyes in class.” Because unless she was careful to keep it in check, creepy vibes emanated from Sabine like BO from an unwashed jock. “Wanna hear this theory I have about Tod? I think you’re gonna like it….”

  “No.” I shook my head sharply and
held her eye contact, determined to get through my request with the bare minimum of Sabine’s nosy, spiteful tangents. “I don’t want to hear any more of your theories. I just want you to follow up on this one, as a favor to a dying classmate. Please.”

  Sabine watched me in open curiosity. “Why do you care? I mean, you’re going to be dead in a few days. Do you really want to spend your last few days tracking down whoever Danica Sussman cheated on her boyfriend with? Don’t you think it’s possible you’re grasping at a problem that doesn’t really exist to distract yourself from a reality you’re not ready to face?” Sabine stopped and grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “Damn, that was perceptive of me. And I didn’t even get that from reading your fear!”

  I sighed. “I fully admit that’s what I’m doing. Don’t you think you’d want a distraction if you found out you were going to die before the end of the week?”

  “Hell yeah. But I’d find it in Nash’s bed, not in Danica’s possibly skeleton-bearing closet.”

  Sabine’s eyes widened. “You already tried, didn’t you?” When I didn’t answer, her smile grew. “Nash turned you down? Wow. That’s unexpected. And really satisfying…”

  “He didn’t turn me down. We were interrupted,” I insisted, but as usual, she refused to rise above her own moment of triumph in the rivalry she’d decided we were in.

  “And he didn’t want to pick up where you left off? Try not to read too much into that. It isn’t necessarily because you don’t know what you’re doing…”

  My temper flared, and my jaw ached from being clenched. “Okay, look.” I leaned forward in the chair, capturing her gaze in spite of the discomfort of looking directly into the mara’s eyes. “I get that you want Nash. And as much as it kills me to admit this, you’re going to get a shot at him in a few days. I can make that easier for you. Or I can make it very, very hard.”

  Sabine’s eyes narrowed and darkened, and suddenly the room felt colder. “Are you threatening me?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.”