A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(22)

Above me the rhythmic ticking of my ceiling fan begins to lull me to sleep. And when I close my eyes, the world slips away altogether.

* * *

I’m on the roof of a high-rise building again as rain falls all around me. My body glows in the dim light, but this time I know immediately that I’m in her vision. Onika sits on the ledge of the building, her feet dangling over. The rain doesn’t touch her, but I can’t see her face, can’t see what’s behind her curtain of blond hair. By the set of her shoulders I think that she’s determined to jump. Will she?

The door opens and the man stalks out, his skin flawless, nothing like the cracked horror I’d seen last time. “Onika,” he calls out, sounding like a disappointed father. “Enough with this temper tantrum.”

She turns to glare at him fiercely. “You lied, Rodney. I can’t keep him. I can’t keep any of them.”

“You’ll find others.”

“I don’t want anyone else. You told me that if I loved him, if I loved him enough, that I could continue living. But he sees me, Rodney. He sees what you’ve made me become, the things I have to do now. I’m not escaping being Forgotten—not really. I’m only compelled in a different way.”

“Onika,” he responds as if he’s tired of talking to her. “If you want your lover then whisper to him. Make him do what you want.”

“No.” She sounds horrified by the thought. “I want to keep him as he is,” she says desperately. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“It was your decision, my beauty. All I did was provide the temptation.”

“You tricked me!”

“And if I did? What will you do now—jump off this building again? How many times must you do that before you realize that you’re bound to the earth? There is no way out, not for us. The light doesn’t want you, Onika. We made a choice.”

“You lied!” she roars. “You said nothing would change.”

“But it has. And you need to accept it.” He pauses, disgust crossing his face. “Or just jump. I don’t care.”

Onika lets out a sad laugh, hinged with misery. Devastation. And then she leans forward and falls off the roof once again.

But as I watch, the only sound is my scream—forcing me awake.

It’s morning and my head is foggy from a restless night’s sleep, the image of the woman falling from the building still in my mind. When I walk into the kitchen I find my sister at the table, typing on her laptop. I swipe her hair when I pass behind, saying hello to my father as he flips through the newspaper across from her.

“Have you ever had a recurring nightmare?” I ask them, taking a spot between their chairs. My sister looks up quickly, seemingly taken aback by the question.

“Sure,” my father says, folding the page in front of him. “I think I used to have one about drowning when I was a kid. And your sister used to have them after your mother died. Remember, Lucinda?”

“No, Doug,” she responds, and goes back to typing. Her curt response makes me wonder if her pain level is causing her increasingly moody behavior. And then I wonder if she’s told my father about it yet.

“Don’t get so upset,” my father says, sounding surprised. “I was just pointing it out.” He turns to me. “She used to wake me up with stories of a man with a broken face trying to push her off of a tower. You don’t forget things like that when they’re coming from your nine-year-old.”

“Dad.” My sister turns to him, closing her laptop. “I don’t think my creepy childhood dreams are appropriate breakfast conversation. I’d almost rather hear about Elise’s G-rated love life.”

I pretend to be offended. “Actually,” I say, “I had a date last night.”

“What?” Lucy practically shouts. “Did you know about this?” she asks my father accusingly.

He nods, sipping from his coffee, looking proud that he knew something about a boy that she didn’t.

“And would you like to know who I went out with last night?” I ask, taking a piece of toast off the plate in the center of the table.

“If you say Abe Weston I’m going to scream.”

“It was Abe Weston.”

My father covers his ears, but Lucy waves him off. “I’m just kidding,” she says. “It’s too early for screaming. So . . .” She turns to me. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, he said he was taking me to dinner, but actually we drove out to a campsite where his friends were hanging out.”

“Drinking?” my father interrupts.

“No,” I lie. But I wasn’t drinking, so it should still count. “Anyway, it was fun. We had burgers, some marshmallows. He brought me home and even walked me to the door.” I give my father a sidelong glance to emphasize the politeness of the gesture.

“And he kissed you,” Lucy finishes for me.

“No, I chickened out. It was close, though.”

“Wow,” Lucy says. “That sounds romantic. Disappointing for Abe, I’m sure. But romantic for you. I’m going to bump your rating up to PG.” She stands and winks at me. “I have to take a shower,” she says. “Do you need a ride to work later?”

“Can I borrow the car instead?” I ask. “I have an errand to run first.” My heart rate spikes as I think about Madame Marceline, and whether I’ll be able to find her. And what I’ll say when I do.