To My End Read online

  Luckily, they love me beyond reprisal.

  “Ah, I don’t believe that for a second.” Sonny nods at the concession stand, where my parents wave to bid us hello. “Your mother is a doctor and your dad is the sheriff...surely that runs in your blood?”

  I frown at my parents, a little confused as to why they’re okay with me going off with a town outsider; they’re usually so serious about the whole don’t talk to strangers thing. I then frown up at Sonny, asking, “How do you know what my parents do for a living?”

  He leans in and whispers near my cheek, tickling the spot with his warm breath, “I was talking to them.”

  Oh. That’s right. They also told him I’d help get firewood.

  I laugh awkwardly, wishing I had somewhat of a clearer head. I want to beguile him, not repulse him with my drunkardness—if that’s even a word.

  “Do they usually assist at community events?”

  “Who?” I ask. “My parents?”

  Sonny nods, glancing over at them a second time.

  “Oh. Yes, they do. They can’t seem to help themselves.” I wave about with one hand to emphasize on how infuriatingly goody-two-shoes they are. “The Christmas festivals are the worst. Since it never snows here, they personally hire big machines to turn the town white. And then there’s the tree...we must all come together to decorate it...oh, and the games...can’t forget the games...Secret Santa and all that.”

  I stop to assess his expression, recoiling inside when I think he looks disinterested. He’s glancing around at everything but me, and no wonder. I’m rambling. Drunk rambling, and that’s the worst.

  “Do you like games, Sonny?” I ask, desperate to grasp his full attention.

  “Hmmm, not really. I’m more of an amateur Geologists.”

  A Geo, what?

  With his free hand, he digs into his jeans back pocket and pulls something out. I’m officially intrigued, squinting my eyes to see what he’s got: a little white stone with sharp, jagged edges.

  “Where did you get that?” I ask as we pause by the curb at the roadside, unlinking arms to face him. “It looks like a piece of rock from the White Mountains.”

  And by White Mountains, I mean the haunted beasts that border the west side of our town. Chalky edges sitting in the distance, always among a cool mist.

  Sonny confirms that his little stone did indeed come from the White Mountains, high on the peak where no man has ever been before.

  “Where no man has ever been?” My eyebrows wrinkle. “How did you get it, then?”

  “That’s a secret.” Sonny smirks, challenging me. “But what I can tell you is, it’s supposed to have magical properties.”

  “Magic, huh? Is that why you sought it out?”

  “You could say that.”

  He motions with the little stone, so I hold out my hand to let him drop it in my palm. The second it touches my skin, something happens. Something I’m not nearly ready for.

  It starts with sensations.

  Heat swamps me, as a muscular figure pins me down and spreads my legs, grinding against my sex in an effort to turn me on.

  And boy oh boy does it turn me on.

  We’re naked with nothing but sweat between us, hearts pounding against each other’s. He’s hard like a rock, slickly rubbing the right spot. Through my soft folds, applying just enough pressure on my clit. It makes me sopping wet, dripping in arousal. The little pulse down there beats, getting crazy when I grind back.

  I can’t believe I’m grinding back, and with someone I don’t know. Who is this guy?

  It doesn’t matter. Shame or no shame, I can’t seem to stop, lost in a sick, hungry game of passion. My hands tangle in some kind of fur blanket, as my feet tie around his, holding on for dear life so I can meet his controlled motions.

  I’m stunned when the sensations turn into images of a deep, gloomy room, like an oval mountain cove or something. The ceiling is dripping in spicy, dried herbs, with streaks of silver light coming from one corner. I have no idea where it is.

  I flinch at the sound of lusty, reverberating moans. And gasp when I stare ahead from the room to find Sonny’s green gaze mere inches from mine, pulsing with tension.

  He’s on top of me, flushed in the cheeks.

  He is the one pinning me down beneath a fluffy fur blanket, settled comfortably between my legs. His breath tickles my lips as he leans in and devours me in a deep, intense kiss, all tongue and more, gluttonous moans.

  Feeling compelled, I kiss him back, starving for a taste. I beg him to feed on me, too, telling him that I know he wants to. I’ve no idea why. I have no idea about any of this.

  I don’t get a chance to figure it out, either.

  Just as quickly as it came, the whole vision vanishes into nothingness. Poof. I realize Sonny has taken the little stone out of my hand and shoved it back in his jeans pocket, leaving me feeling...empty. Cold and empty.

  But still, I’m mesmerized.

  “What was that?” I whisper, gazing up at him in a transfixed state.

  “What did you see?” Sonny questions like he knows, staring down at me with the most hypnotic gleam in his eyes.

  I want to tell him we were making love—or, I think it was us—but how? I don’t know him enough to divulge such details.

  Not that it seems to matter.

  The longer he stares, the more the urge grows to spill my guts. Until words finally tumble out of my mouth, ardent and breathy. “It was the oddest thing,” I confess, giving lewd details about how we were skin to skin. “I could feel it. Feel us.”

  I can’t believe how honest I’m being, and without shame. He must think the same. His eyebrows are sky high, making him look like he’s struggling to process what I’m saying.

  “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting me to say that?” I cringe with embarrassment, hoping he’ll forgive my uncouthness.

  “Erm...no, I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” He frowns, blinking away for a second. “I mean, I knew the stone has magical properties, but I didn’t think you’d see something like that.”

  What else did he expect me to see?

  “Where were we?” he asks, blinking back at me. “Were you frightened? Was there blood?”

  Blood?

  “No, there wasn’t any blood,” I say with revulsion. “Why would there be?”

  “I...because...” He touches his head a few times, as though it’s going to help his thought process. “You said we were making love, yeah? You saw us and felt us, skin to skin?”

  “Yes,” I repeat myself. “We were together...moaning...and we were...” Ugh. I can’t get my words out. The only way to explain what happened is to show him.

  So, I try.

  Losing my damn mind, I gain height on tippy-toes and plant a soft kiss on his lips, flooding with butterflies as I do. His mouth is delicious. Plump and inviting. I close my eyes to enjoy the whole experience, humming with delight. That’s when Sonny’s hands clasp my waist and shove me up against something. I groan on impact, stunned by his reaction. He’s like an animal, ravishing me with long, wet licks and chesty groans. It makes me feel weak at the knees, so I grip his shoulders with shaky fingers and hold on for the ride, kissing him back in a desperate state of passion.

  Though, not for long.

  My kid-sister ruins the mood. She bounces past on a Rock N Hopper, wondering where I’m going. “Dad wants to know, right now! Right now, Vi!”

  “Jeez, calm down, Cindy.” I tear my mouth from Sonny’s in a fluster and step aside, motioning at the parking lot across the road. “I’m going to get firewood.”

  “Liar! I’m telling Mom!” Cindy pokes out her tongue and disappears in the crowd by the cotton candy stand, proving she is doing anything but tell our mom.

  Not that I give a crap either way.

  I’m beetroot red, mortified that I just kissed Sonny without permission—and got caught.

  He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He chuckles, amused despite me. “Sh
e’s charming.”

  “That’s my little sister,” I say with a timid shrug, still burning with embarrassment. “She’s such a brat.”

  “Brats are cute.” He winks, tilting his head as he watches me. “I understand you have brothers, too?”

  He does?

  For a second, I’m lost in his spellbinding eyes, gazing for so long it burns. Then I wonder: “How do you know I have brothers?”

  “Your parents.”

  “Oh. Right.” I shake my fuzzy head. Again, I remember that he’s spoken to them.

  “Your dad said they’re absolute soccer heads?”

  “Yeah, they are.” I point at them over by the stage speakers, where they’re dressed in blatant letterman jackets. “Loui—the taller one—is the better player. Davie—the short, stumpy blond—just follows the lead.”

  I don’t know how this is relevant. Isn’t Sonny more interested in the vision I saw of us? Or the fact that I kissed him?

  He doesn’t interpret my thoughts. Just muses with a prolonged hum, blinking at my brothers—who toss daggers.

  Ugh. How embarrassing.

  “Also charming.” The new heartthrob of my existence is again amused, complimenting my family even though my brothers clearly have a problem with him. I like that.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask, knotting my fingers together over my middle in a shy way. “Older? Younger?”

  Sonny links arms with me a second time and finally walks us across the road, shaking his head to say no. “It’s just me.”

  “Just you?” I say, twisting inside with sympathy. “How long has it been just you?”

  “For a long, long time now. But it’s okay, Vi. I like it this way.”

  That’s bizarre. Who would like to be alone?

  “Are you old enough to—oh, no,” I speak over myself, gesturing out to tell him the parking lot is this way.

  Sonny questions my sense of direction, motioning at a darkened alley before a flickering streetlamp. “I thought the parking lot was through there?”

  I frown and blink up at a clear green sign that screams, parking lot! Then I frown back at him. “Eh, no. It really is over there.”

  Can’t he see the entrance?

  Sonny laughs and ruffles his inky hair, acting all blasé. While it seems forced, I take no notice. Once we’re back on track, heading for the actual parking lot, I carry on from where I left off, asking if he’s old enough to look after himself.

  “I am.” He smiles an edgy smile, peering back over his shoulder at the alley. “I’m twenty-four. Six years older than you, right?”

  “You know how old I am?”

  “Sure. Your parents told me.”

  Wow. I’m flattered he cared to ask—and interested about how he got so much information on my family in such a short amount of time. Mom and Dad aren’t exactly the revealing types, especially to a man they met half an hour ago. So, what compelled them to say as much as they did? Why would they disclose my age?

  It’s bugging me to know, but I’m certain I won’t get any answers until I go home and talk to my parents. All I can do is put it out of my mind, for now anyway. And so I do. As I enter the parking lot with Sonny, strolling toward a mountain pile of chopped wood, I get back to asking things of importance. Like, where are his parents? Dead? Did they abandon him? Most of all, is he staying in town—and has he got a girlfriend?

  I hope he says no to the girlfriend and yes to staying in town. I want to see him again after tonight. There’s something about him. Something alluring.

  “What’cha thinking about, hmm?”

  The questions slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, all jumbled and out of order.

  “Sorry. One thing at a time.” I laugh awkwardly, trying to slow myself down. “Start with your parents and where they are. And then tell me if you’re staying in town.”

  He unlinks arms and grabs a cart from the side of the parking lot, mundanely loading it with chopped firewood. I take the opportunity to rest on a nearby wall and watch him move with agile fluentness, waiting for his reply.

  But a reply doesn’t come.

  Nothing does.

  There’s only silence, and it’s so damn uncomfortable.

  Did I say something I shouldn’t have?

  “I’m not snooping,” I tell him, hoping to break the weird tension I’ve created. “I just wondered about you, is all.” Especially after the sexy images I saw of us. “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town, Vi,” he says simply, turning the cart around to fill up the other end. “And as for my parents, they’re dead.”

  What?

  I cup my mouth, absolutely horrified with my own prying. I was not expecting him to say that. The idiot in me anticipated a whole system-story where, as a child, he was pulled from house to house in the foster care system. I didn’t envisage a lonely orphan tale.

  “Sonny, I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s no need for apologies.” He lifts a hand to stop me, glancing over at the town square. “It was meant to be.”

  Meant to be? What does he mean by that?

  For the first time since I guzzled down the tequila, I’m sober, desperate to question him further but I don’t know how. Should I hug him first? Tell him everything is going to be okay before I go in for the kill? That’s what Mom would expect me to do.

  “Vi”—he gives me a slight chastising look—“don’t think about it.”

  “I can’t help it,” I admit with a shrug, sounding sad. “I feel sorry for you.”

  “Don’t. Honestly, your sympathy isn’t necessary—and it’s very misplaced.”

  Why would he think that?

  Ugh. So many questions. So little time.

  “If you really have to know”—he pacifies my curiosity with a sigh—“my mother and father killed themselves, but it was a long time ago. I’ve gotten over it.”

  I don’t know how it’s even possible, but the need to hug him grows stronger, making my heart squeeze. How can someone survive such tragedies?

  Sonny doesn’t say much more about himself now. Just asks about how long I’ve lived here etcetera. I get the feeling he doesn’t want to mull over anything personal, and it’s apparent as he changes the topic of conversation altogether. He wonders if I know about the witches we’re celebrating, and while this is the last thing I want to discuss, I also don’t want to upset him.

  “I know a little about them,” I say with a desolate smile, searching the pretty green depth of his eyes. “They were burned for practicing, right?”

  “Wrong.” He comes over and sits beside me on the wall, tugging down the zipper on his leather jacket. “They were burned for trying to kidnap an albino girl.”

  “An albino girl?” I grip my pure white ponytail and hold it on my shoulder, twisting my face with intrigue. “That’s weird.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I’m an albino.”

  He stares at me for long seconds, eyes full of severity, and says, “I know.”

  I’m not sure how to respond, looking away with a strained, awkward smile. Is he implying something? Or trying to scare me?

  I assume it’s the latter, given we’re celebrating a spooky event. And that’s okay. I know boys like to scare girls—but he’s going to have to do better than that.

  “Why did they attempt to kidnap an albino girl?” I ask, keeping up the momentum of conversation. Anything is better than listening to how his parents killed themselves and left him all alone.

  “They tried to kidnap the girl for a spell,” he says, hooking one hand in his inside jacket pocket. I expect him to pull out another stone or something, to inundate me in more erotic images, but he doesn’t. He just sits like that, telling me, “It’s a long story, but to keep it short, a coven of albino witches believed they were put on this earth to do God’s work. In order to achieve that, they needed a foreseer to predict and help them change the future, but that was a nearly impossib
le reality.”

  “Why?” I say.

  “Witches can’t become foreseers.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the balance of nature ensured no one could be both witch and foreseer. One gift is enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I guess.” I chew the inside of my cheek, deep in thought. “What has all this got to do with a regular albino girl, Sonny?”

  Again, he stares down at me, creating another moment of silence. He holds it long enough to build anticipation, ensuring I’m hanging onto his every word. Then finally, he whispers, “Human albinos are the only creatures who can be made into foreseers. They are the main ingredient to the spell.”

  “Are?” I pick up on his use of present tense. “Don’t you mean, were? Human albinos were the main ingredients for the spell?”

  “No, my sweet girl,” croaks from beside us, causing Sonny and I to jump to our feet. “He had it right the first time. Human albinos are the main ingredient to the foreseer spell.”

  Chapter 3

  Sonny and I stand before a group of women lined across the parking lot.

  They are old and haggard with wiry white hair and menacing expressions on their faces, wearing long white dresses with their toes peeking out the bottom.

  For a second, I’m startled at the sight of them; they look homeless and wholly insane. Then common-sense grips me, kick-starting my brain to say, “Nice costumes, but I think you’re taking the event a little too seriously.”

  That’s obviously what this is; they’re getting in character to celebrate Trials Night. A bit extreme, given it’s something a teenager would usually do, but to each their own.

  “These aren’t costumes, my sweet girl,” the main woman croaks, fluffing her dress to the point of knocking off dust. “This is fitting attire for the ritual.”

  “Ritual, huh?” I cock an eyebrow, amused and surprised by how serious she sounds. “That’s very ominous. Next, you’ll be telling me I’m part of it.”

  Her expression darkens with a sinister grin, as she says, “Maybe you are?”