Burned (House of Night #7)(15)

"You . . ." I whispered, trying to pull myself from Heath's arms, which were holding me tightly against his body.

"Don't look. Just pull yourself together and go home, Zo."

But I couldn't stop looking. Something inside compelled me. I saw another face framed by eyes I knew - and this time I knew them well enough that the knowledge lent me strength, and I pulled away from Heath, turning him so he could see where I pointed into the gloom. "Holy crap, Heath! Look at that.

It's me!"

And it was. The "me" froze as we stared at each other. She was probably about nine years old, and she blinked up at me in terrified silence.

"Zoey Look at me." Heath wrenched me around, holding my shoulders in a grip that I knew would cause bruises later. "You have to get out of here."

"But that's me as a kid."

"I think all of them are you - pieces of you. Something's happened to your soul, Zoey, and you gotta get out of here so that it can get fixed."

Suddenly I felt dizzy and sagged in his arms. I don't know how I knew, but I did. The words I spoke were as true and as final as his death. "I can't leave, Heath. Not unless all those pieces of me are me again. And I don't know how to make that happen - I just don't know!"

Heath pressed his forehead against mine. "Well, Zo, maybe you should try using that annoying mom voice you used on me when I drank too much and tell them to, I dunno, to stop all this bullpoopie and get back inside you where they belong."

He sounded so much like me that he almost made me smile. Almost.

"But if I'm back together, I'll have to leave here. I can feel it, Heath," I whispered to him.

"If you don't put yourself back together, you won't ever leave here because you're gonna die, Zo. I can feel that."

I looked into his warm, familiar eyes. "Would that be so bad? I mean, this place seems a lot better than the mess that's waiting for me back in the real world."

"No, Zoey." Heath sounded pissed. "It's not okay here. Not for you."

"Well, maybe that's 'cause I'm not dead. Yet." I swallowed and admitted, only to myself, that saying it out loud did sound kinda scary.

"I think there's more to it than that."

Heath wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring over my shoulder, and his eyes had gone all big and round. I turned around. The writhing figures that looked uncomfortably like bizarre, unfinished versions of me were hovering in and out of the black mist, milling and chattering and basically acting weirdly super nervous. Then there was a flash of light that turned into a huge set of dangerous, pointed horns, and with a terrible flapping noise, something descended on that end of the meadow, causing those spirits, those ghosts, those incomplete pieces of me to begin to scream and scream and scream while they scattered and disappeared before it.

"What happens now?" I asked Heath, trying - unsuccessfully - to keep the terror from my voice as we started backing across the meadow.

Heath took my hand and squeezed. "I don't know, but I'll be here with you through all of it. And right now," he whispered in a voice filled with tension, "don't look behind you, just come with me and run !"

For one of the few times in my life, I didn't argue with him. I didn't question him. I did exactly what he said. I held on to Heath and ran.

Chapter Six

Zoey

"Zo, you have to wake up. Please! Wake up and talk to me."

The guy's voice was nice. I knew he was cute before I opened my eyes. Then I did open my eyes and smiled up at him 'cause I had definitely been right. He was, as my BFF Kayla would say, "a hottie covered with awesome sauce." Okay, yum! Even though my head was kinda fuzzy, I felt warm and happy. My smile turned into a grin. "I'm awake. Who are you?"

"Zoey, stop playing around. It's not funny."

The kid frowned down at me, and I realized all of a sudden that I was lying across his lap in his arms. I sat up fast and scooted a little away from him. I mean, yeah, he was super cute and all, but being in some stranger's lap was pretty much outside my comfort zone.

"Uh, I'm not trying to be funny."

His cute face went all still and shocked. "Zo, are you telling me you really don't know who I am?"

"Okay, look. You know I don't know who you are. Even though I know it sounds like you know me." I paused, confused by all the "knows."

"Zoey, do you know who you are?"

I blinked. "That's a silly question. Of course I know who I am. I'm Zoey." It's a good thing the kid was cute because obviously he wasn't the brightest Crayola in the pack.

"Do you know where you are?" His voice was gentle, almost hesitant.

I looked around. We were sitting on some really nice soft grass beside a dock that led out to a lake that looked like glass in the gorgeous morning sunlight.

Sunlight?

That was wrong.

Something was wrong.

I swallowed hard and met the guy's gentle brown eyes. "Tell me your name."

"Heath. I'm Heath. You know me, Zo. You'll always know me."

I did know him.

Flashes of him blinked through my memory like fast-forwarded DVDs: Heath telling me my hacked-off hair looked cute in third grade - Heath saving me from that giant spider that fell on me in front of the entire sixth grade - Heath kissing me for the first time after the football game in eighth grade - Heath drinking too much and pissing me off - me Imprinting with Heath . . . and then Imprinting again, and finally me watching as Heath -