12
Somewhere between Wilshire and Franklin, I notice that the faster the wind slaps hair across my face and the more blurred the palm trees bordering the road become, the easier it is to block thoughts of Devon and Bianca from my mind. The speedometer needle vibrates around eighty miles per hour. I’d go faster if my throwback of a car would allow it.
“Mind slowing down?” Paige asks from the backseat. “I think I’m going to vomit.” One glance in the rearview mirror tells me she isn’t exaggerating: her pale skin has turned a sickly shade of green, and she’s clutching the Oh Shit handle like a life preserver. Bishop, on the other hand, is slouching in his seat, tapping out some secret tune no one else can hear on his thighs.
“It’s all right.” He looks out the window. “She’s just pulling a Bella.”
“A what?”
“A Bella. You know—guy does you wrong, so you punish him by practically killing yourself.”
“What?” I bark a laugh. “That is so not what I’m doing.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” He starts up his stupid drumming again. I’m beginning to feel homicidal.
But even though he’s majorly wrong, I lay off the gas a bit. For Paige’s sake.
Soon, I’m navigating the Sunfire along the narrow, two-lane street that winds up around the Hollywood Hills. On the left are the stupid-big homes of the stupid-rich-and-famous, interspersed with a bunch of eroded rock and grass and trees. And on the right is the guardrail that stops motorists from careering to their fiery deaths, all overlooking a beautiful view of Los Angeles.
“Okay, we’re here.” I slide the car into park in front of the gate at the end of Deronda. “Start talking.”
“Hold on, now.” Bishop climbs out of the car.
“This is as close as we can get,” I call out the open window. “Service road. Hello?”
He takes off up the hill and disappears into the dark.
It would be dumb to get out of the car. Worse than dumb: idiotic. But I’ve come this far already, and I can’t imagine the grocery list of bad decisions I’ve made to this point being for nothing. I turn off the car and unfasten my seat belt.
“You’re really going out there?” Paige asks, but she’s unfastening her seat belt too.
“Well, I’m not just going to let him get away, am I?”
“Nooo,” she says, throwing as much sarcasm into one word as humanly possible, “you definitely want to run toward the ax murderer.”
I ignore her and jog after Bishop, brush needles clawing at my ankles as I struggle to find my footing on the loose gravel.
“Bishop!” I hiss into the dark. “It’s against the law to hike to the sign.” Like I’d hike to it right now even if it weren’t illegal. Without the lights of the city, we’re boxed in by an eerie darkness that would make a field mouse feel claustrophobic. Plus, there are mountain lions, and rattlesnakes, and rough brush, and a zillion other reasons to stay in the car. And did I mention it’s illegal?
“Hello!” Paige calls. “Security cameras, motion sensors, razor-wire fence?” She sighs. “This is stupid, Ind. I’m going back to the car.”
“Over here.”
I can’t tell where Bishop’s voice came from. It sounded like it was above me, but that’s obviously impossible. I squint into the dark and scan the silhouettes of trees and bushes that jut out from the rocks.
“Here,” Bishop says.
I startle. Because, yes, his voice definitely came from above me. Holding my breath, I look up, and—holy freaking crap—Bishop is ten feet in the air, his moonlit back floating against the dark night sky. I scream and scrabble backward, bumping into Paige.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Paige’s fingernails dig into my arm. “What the hell is he?”
Even in the dark, I can see the smirk on Bishop’s face. Somehow, it stops me from running. He can’t really be flying. This has to be a trick. I swipe my hand under his army boots—nothing. I squint into the darkness, looking for a tree or a rope or, I don’t know, anything to explain what I’m seeing. Which is Bishop. Very clearly. Flying. And making it look easy, hands jammed into his pockets like it’s no big deal.
“Come on.” Paige yanks on my arm, trying to get me to run with her, but I pull free and root myself in place. I don’t claim to be a medical professional or anything, but it can’t be healthy for my heart to clang this way in my chest, for my head to drain of blood, and for me to breathe so fast and hard that I feel the stretch of every single alveoli in my lungs.
“No patrolman tonight,” Bishop says. “I checked.”
Fear grips its talons around my throat, making my words come out too high. “Oh good,” I say. “Because that’s obviously what I’m worried about right now.”
Bishop’s laughter chimes through the night.
“I don’t like this, Ind!” Paige cries. “What is he? Some sort of freak?” Her voice vibrates like she’s about to have a nervous breakdown. “I’m going back.”
I try to grab her arm, but she slips from my grasp and runs a few steps.
“You have to come with me,” Paige pleads. “Your mom wouldn’t want this.”
If that’s what she believes, then she doesn’t know my mom at all. I’m so close to answers. “You can go back if you want.” My hands shake as I fish in my bag for my keys and toss them to her; she misses, and they jangle to the ground in front of her feet. “Go back to Jessie’s. I’ll find my way home.”
Paige picks up the keys. She glances behind her like she’s about to bolt, then lets out a frustrated groan. “Like I’d leave you with him.”
“Great,” Bishop says brightly. “So are we going up, or what?”
“Up where?” I ask.
“To the sign.” He gestures behind him. “It’s why we came here, right?”
“Right. Stupid me. Care to tell me how the hell you’re flying?”
“Of course, since you asked so nicely. Once we get up there.”
“We?” I say.
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I froze the security system. We’ll get up no problem.”
“We?” I repeat. “Just how are we going to get up there? If you hadn’t noticed, Paige and I can’t fly.”
“I’ll take you, obviously. Even though you have a major attitude problem.”
“No way.” Paige backs up. “Uh-uh. No chance in hell. Not happening.”
“You won’t drop me?” I ask.
“You can’t be serious,” Paige says. “Ind, no. You’re coming with me. We’re going home and we’re calling the cops and telling them there’s a nuthouse inmate on the loose.”
“Paige, I’m doing this. It’s too important.” I fasten my curls back into a ponytail, then nod to Bishop and hold my arms out to the side to show him I’m ready to be picked up.
Bishop touches down lightly. I wave for him to hurry up before common sense (or the fact that I probably reek and shouldn’t let a boy get close to me) makes me go with Paige’s plan instead. He bends and scoops me up, one arm under my knees and another around my waist, like I weigh about twelve pounds instead of ten times that. He’s so close that his breath rushes against my ear, and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. For the first time since we got out here, I’m grateful for the darkness, because he can’t see how furiously I’m blushing. Which is insane. He’s flying! He could be a vampire or a demon or any manner of paranormal creatures, for all I know. And I’m blushing? There’s something fundamentally wrong with me. If it turns out that I’m crazy, I blame Devon and Bianca for pushing me over the edge.