Page 105 of Stone Cold Touch

“Someone said it was a heart attack,” Stacey said as we made our way to class. “But how does a seventeen-year-old just have a heart attack?”

I shook my head. It was the best I could muster given what happened last night and early this morning. Oddly enough, the withdrawals that occurred after feeding, like when an addict comes down off a high, still hadn’t hit me.

I knew from what Zayne had told me this morning that Dean’s death had been ruled as due to natural causes, but it was far from normal.

Dean was dead, but he was most certainly not at peace.

That cloud of evil, the thick, almost suffocating blanket brimming just beneath the surface that I’d felt at Dean’s house, was present at school today. It was like a shadow hiding in every corner, an invisible stalker waiting to pounce.

“Maybe it was drugs,” a girl next to us said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name. “He could’ve overdosed and they’re saying it was a heart attack.”

Speculation continued until the bell rang, signaling the start of class. I tensed as Roth strolled in at the last second. Hair damp and curling from a recent shower, he looked as tired as I felt. Humming softly, he took his seat in front of us and glanced over his shoulder at me. There was a wealth of secrecy in his questioning stare that I ignored as Mr. Tucker—who I was guessing was going to permanently replace Mrs. Cleo—moved to stand in front of the classroom, hands folded over the transparent slides.

My eyes met Roth’s for a moment and then I focused on Mr. Tucker. I was too tired to be embarrassed over what I’d done yesterday, but I didn’t know what to say to Roth. Apologize for molesting him? Sounded like fun. I could feel his gaze linger on me for a few more moments before he faced the front of the classroom.

“What’s up with you two?” Stacey asked in a low voice that I knew Roth could definitely hear.

“Nothing,” I replied.

Roth leaned back in his seat, letting his arms dangle at his sides.

“I call best-friend bullshit on that.” She knocked her leg against mine. “You disappeared again yesterday. You were with him, weren’t you?”

The lie rose to the tip of my tongue, but I was so incredibly sick of lying. I didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Roth’s chair rose onto its two back legs, balancing precariously in a way that only he could manage without toppling over like an idiot.

Stacey sucked in a breath. “What about Zayne?”

My heart squeezed as if someone had shoved it into a juicer. Good question. I’d screwed up last night and I’d hurt Zayne more than I probably even realized. When he’d driven me to school this morning, he hadn’t spoken. Neither could I because at this point, words were cheap and useless, full of empty promises and expectations.

Roth’s elbows rested on our table, and Bambi stirred restlessly on my stomach. She’d disappeared as soon as I got home last night, most likely to feed. When I’d awoken with only half an hour to get ready for school, she’d been curled up in my dollhouse.

Mr. Tucker cleared his throat. “I know we’ve learned very tragic news today about one of your fellow classmates.”

My gaze drifted to where the boys had sat behind Dean. Lenny still hadn’t returned to school, but Keith was there. Based on the way he was slouched in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, I could tell he wasn’t too torn up by the news.

“I’ve been advised that there are grief counselors on the premises for anyone who would like to speak with them,” Mr. Tucker went on, moving the slides back and forth in his hands, causing them to wave at the classroom.

The next breath I drew in got stuck in my throat as the feeling from the hallway seeped into the classroom, like a dark, thick cloud passing over the sun. I couldn’t help but shiver.

I laid my pen down on my notebook as I glanced around the room. Everything looked normal, but something was off.

Roth tilted his head to the side, and I knew he was feeling it, too.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you feel as though you need to talk to someone,” Mr. Tucker continued. “No one will hold it against you. Death is a hard thing to deal with, no matter how old you are.”

The light above Mr. Tucker flickered and went unnoticed by everyone but Roth and me. He lowered his chair to all four legs. The light above the substitute teacher stopped blinking, but the one in front of it began to—and once that stopped, another started, cutting a clear path down the middle of the aisle, until the overhead light above the desk Keith sat at flickered wildly.

Keith glanced up at it, frowning.

“So ask any of your teachers and we’ll get you set up with one of the counselors...” Mr. Tucker trailed off as his gaze moved to the light in turn. The slides stilled in his hands.

There was a beat of silence and every muscle in my body tensed as an icy breeze washed over my skin. I stiffened at the familiar feeling. Something was about to happen. I knew it—I knew the feeling. The bone-deep chill that had seeped into my being was the same thing I’d felt right before the windows exploded and Maddox fell down the stairs.

I started to stand, and Stacey grabbed for my arm.

The light above Keith suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. The room filled with shrieks and the sounds of chair legs screeching across the floor as people came to their feet in surprise.

“Here we go,” muttered Roth, now sitting straight.

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