Gregory laughed, flicked off the dryer and dropped it, letting it dangle from its electric cord.
"I'm losing patience," he said.
Ivy stared at him wide-eyed.
"I'm getting tired of chasing you," he said.
She bit her lip. "I don't know why you keep trying."
He tilted back his head, studying her as if he were making some kind of decision. He moved close to her.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Liar," he whispered in her ear. "Every guy out there would be chasing you if they thought they had a chance."
Ivy's mind raced. How much had Gregory drunk? What kind of game was he playing?
His arms encircled her. Ivy fought the panic that was growing inside her.
She could not get away from him, so she put her arms around him lightly, trying to draw him out of the secluded bathroom. She had left the bedroom door open, and if she made it to where they could be seen and heard-He moved easily with her into the bedroom. Then she saw that the door to the hall had been closed. He started pushing her toward the bed.
He can't kill me, not here, she thought as she was pushed back. It'd be too easy to trace him. She stepped back again. His fingerprints are on the hair dryer and the door, she reminded herself, stepping back and back. And someone could walk in at any moment, she told herself. He moved with her, so close she couldn't see his face.
Ivy tumbled onto the bed and stared up at him. Gregory's eyes were like hot gray coals. Color crept high in his cheeks. He's too smart to pull a gun, she thought. He'll jam a capsule down my throat.
Then Gregory was on top of her. Ivy struggled against him. Gregory laughed at her efforts as she squirmed beneath him, then he groaned softly. "I love you," he said.
Ivy held still, and he lifted his head, staring down at her, his eyes burning with a strange light. "I want you.
I've wanted you for a long time."
Was this some kind of terrible joke?
"You know things about me," Gregory said softly, "but you're in love with me, aren't you, Ivy? You would never do anything to hurt me."
Was his ego that big? Was he that crazy? No, she thought, he's warning me.
He laid his hand on her neck. He stroked her throat with his thumb, then pressed it against her pulse. A smile spread across his face. "What did I tell you? Running hot and fast," he said. Then he removed his hand from her throat and slowly traced the edge of her unbuttoned shirt. Ivy's skin crawled.
"Goose bumps." He seemed pleased. "If a month from now I can't give you goose bumps with my touch, if you don't get hot when we kiss, I'll know you don't feel the same way you do now." He really believed it!
"And that would be too bad," he said, still tracing her shirt with his finger. "I'd have to figure out what to do with you then." He leaned on her heavily and pressed his mouth against hers.
Play along, Ivy thought. Play to stay alive. Angels, where are you? She kissed him back, though everything inside her rose up in protest. She kissed him again. Oh, angels, help me! Gregory's kisses grew more passionate, more insistent.
She pushed against him, catching him by surprise. Shoving him away, she rolled off the bed. She could not hold it back-Ivy threw up on the rug.
When she stopped retching, she turned to look at Gregory, wiping her mouth with one hand, steadying herself against a chair with the other.
She saw an entirely different expression on his face. He knew now. The curtain had been lifted, and there was no more pretending. He had seen exactly what she thought of him. His eyes showed what he now thought about her.
Before either of them could say anything, the bedroom door swung open.
Suzanne stood in the doorway. "I noticed both of you were missing," she began, and gazed past them at the rumpled bed. Then she looked at the mess on the floor. "Oh, God!"
Gregory was ready for her. "Ivy's had too much to drink," he said.
"I haven't. I haven't had a thing!" Ivy said quickly.
"She can't tolerate alcohol," Gregory said, walking toward Suzanne, reaching out toward her.
Ivy moved with him. "Suzanne, please, listen to me."
"I was worried about her and-" "I just talked to you," Ivy reminded Suzanne. "I just talked to you-did I seem drunk?"
But Suzanne looked at her blankly.
"Answer me!" Ivy demanded. The faraway look in Suzanne's eyes scared her.
Her friend's mind had already been poisoned by what she saw.
"Nice blouse," Suzanne remarked. "Couldn't find the buttons?"
Ivy pulled it closed.
"I came up to see if she was all right," Gregory continued, "and she, you know-" He paused as if he were embarrassed. "She came on to me. I guess that doesn't really surprise you."
"It doesn't," Suzanne replied in a cool, distant voice.
"Suzanne," Ivy pleaded, "listen to me. We've been friends all this time and you trusted me-" "This time she came on strong," Gregory said. He frowned. "I guess it was the booze."
This time? Ivy thought. "I swear to you, Suzanne, he's lying!"
"Did you kiss him?" Suzanne asked, her voice shaking. "Did you?" She looked again at the rumpled bed.
"He kissed me!"
"What kind of friend are you?" Suzanne cried. "You and I both know that you've been after Gregory since Tristan died."
"But he's been after me since-" Ivy saw Gregory glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and she broke off her sentence.
She knew she had lost the battle.
Suzanne was trembling so, she could hardly get the words out. "Leave," she said in a low, husky voice.
"Get out of here, Ivy. Don't ever come back."
"I'll clean up-" "Leave! Just leave!" Suzanne shouted.
There was nothing she could do. Ivy left her friend crying and clinging to Gregory.
Ivy didn't think about how she was getting home. She ducked into a bathroom farther down the hall and washed her mouth out with toothpaste.
After buttoning and tucking in the blouse, she raced downstairs, snatched up her purse, and hurried out of the house.
She struggled to hold back the tears. She didn't want Gregory to hear stories later on about how upset she was. Philip's words came back to her once more. "He can smell it if you're afraid."
Now Ivy was terrified-for both herself and her friends. At any point they could stumble upon one of Gregory's secrets. And his ego was big enough, he was crazy enough to assume that he could get away with silencing not just her, but Suzanne, Will, and Beth, too.
Ivy walked briskly along the side of Lantern Road. The houses in Suzanne's neighborhood were far apart, and there were no sidewalks. It was another dark mile to the intersection and two more miles into the town itself. The only light was a soft yellow moon.
"Angels, stay with me," Ivy prayed.
She had walked about a third of a mile when the headlights of a car bore down on her. She stepped quickly off the road and ducked into some bushes. The car drove ten feet more, then screeched to a halt.
Ivy scrambled to get deeper into the brush. The driver suddenly extinguished his bright lights, and she could see the shape of the car in the moonlight: a Honda. Will's car.
He climbed out and looked around. "Ivy?"
She wanted to rush out of the bushes and into his arms, but she held back.
"Ivy, if you're here, tell me. Tell me you're okay."
Her mind raced, trying to think what she could tell him without spilling the whole and dangerous truth.
"Answer me. Are you okay? Lacey said you were in trouble. Tell me if there is some way I can help."
Even in the pale light, the look of worry on his face was visible. She longed to reach out to him and tell him everything. She wanted to run to him and feel his arms wrap around her, keeping her safe for a moment. But for his sake she couldn't-she knew that. Her eyes burned. She blinked several times to clear them, then emerged onto the road.