FINDERS KEEPERS

HE STEPPED INTO THE CLUB AND FELT THE MUSIC even before he heard it, the way he always did. The way any good musician would.

Kisha was at his side, calmer now that he’d managed to scrape a little extra cash together for her . . . to medicate her for the night. She hadn’t yet noticed his guitar was missing.

Didn’t matter, though. That dream was dead. He was making new dreams now, forging a new life for himself. Being a rock star no longer mattered.

He was going to be a legend. A god.

Kisha squeezed his arm, whether from the excitement at being out or from the euphoria of her fix, he wasn’t sure, but he was glad to have her back. “This is great!” she squealed enthusiastically. “I love this band!”

He glared up at the stage, to where they were playing, grating out the metal sounds of a song he used to love too. One he’d played for his new family.

“Look,” Kisha gushed as she dragged him closer to the stage. “He sees you.” She pointed indiscreetly to the lead vocalist, who clutched the microphone to his mouth, his eyes falling on Evan in the crowd below. His expression never changed, but Evan could feel the subtle shift in his eyes as he glanced . . . what? Nervously? Uneasily? Toward the guitar player beside him.

The new guy. He turned to Kisha, ignoring everyone on the stage now. He didn’t need them or their insignificant band.

What he needed was a girl. For Colton.

“I’ll be right back,” he shouted, straining to be heard above the riffs from the stage and the screams of the crowd around him. “Stay here.”

Kisha just nodded, her attention already fixated on the band as she swayed, her eyes glittering with delight.

When he first saw the girl he knew two distinct things about her.

First, that she didn’t belong in a place like this. Even as far as all-ages clubs went, this one was rough and dirty and seamy. The people who ran it rarely paid attention to the teens who passed through their doors, so even though the bartender wouldn’t serve minors, it was easy to sneak in booze. And even easier to score if you needed something stronger. It was his kind of place, but definitely not hers.

He could tell the girl had tried to fit in though. That her makeup was heavier than she was probably used to, and that she’d gone for the death metal vibe of the club with her short black skirt and fishnet tights, and a T-shirt with a cat—like Hello Kitty—but with a skull head instead. He’d seen plenty of suburban kids trying to fit in by shopping at Hot Topic, and this girl was no different from the rest.

The second thing he noticed about her was less obvious, but he’d recognized it anyway. It was something about the way she carried herself, despite being from the suburbs. Something about the way he’d seen her glare at the boys she caught watching her, and the way she lifted her shoulder in an I-don’t-give-a-fuck shrug. This girl was bold, even though she was a fish out of water.

He knew right away that this was Colton’s girl.

She wasn’t alone, though. She was with a friend—a pretty girl with curls who was just as out of place as she was, although much less brash about it. The curly-haired girl looked apologetic, and even grimaced as they squeezed through the crowd, trying not to spill their drinks—sodas most likely, since these didn’t look like the kind of girls who brought their own flasks. There was another kid too, a boy who hadn’t bothered trying, and gave off an Abercrombie vibe that didn’t generally sit well among the metalhead crowd. He practically hovered over the curly-haired girl.

The other guy, the dark-haired one who trailed in their wake, was never really close enough to be with them, but not so far away that he could be overlooked either. Unlike the others, this guy could easily blend in with the crowd at this club.

Evan watched the girl as the song came to an end, as the audience blew up, shrieking with applause, and he forced himself not to picture Kisha among them, cheering for the band that had cut out his heart.

When the next song started, he saw the curly-haired girl slip away from the others at their table, and then Abercrombie went after her, disappearing into the mosh pit just as quickly as she had. The other guy left too, but went in the opposite direction, and he wondered if he was ever really with them at all.

Didn’t matter, really. Because they’d just given him a golden opportunity. One he was prepared for, he thought, as he wound his way toward the table, his fingers toying with the tiny plastic bag in his pocket.

He had a chance now. To get to her.

Colton’s girl.

CHAPTER 17

VIOLET STOOD BACK FOR SEVERAL MINUTES, maybe longer. She’d gotten caught up in listening to them, like some lovesick fan. But the song they were playing now wasn’t one she’d heard before, not one of the ones on their YouTube page or their website.

Everyone knows

I can’t see

Innocence

Do you want to suffer?

The lead singer’s voice was hypnotic, guttural and warbling, and she felt like he was calling out to her, and her alone. The pulses continued to flash in her eyes, making it harder and harder to see, which seemed odd in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Still, that voice called to her.

Eyes brim with need

Pull me down

’Neath the dark

Scrub your sins away

Emptiness

One last breath

Baptized in blood

Do you want to suffer?

The meaning was almost as chilling as the vocals themselves, hitting a little too close to home considering why she was here. She turned once, to look for Jay or Rafe or Chelsea, but the bodies around her had swallowed her up, creating just enough space so she could breathe. So her heart could beat.