Beautiful Darkness by Kami García, Margaret Stohl Page B

couldn't anymore?
    “It was the night of your birthday, and I heard you calling me. But when I got to the top of the crypt, Sarafine was there and she had a knife.”
    Lena looked like she was going to be sick. I probably should have stopped there, but I couldn't. I had to keep pushing, and I didn't even know why. “What happened that night, L? You never really told me. Maybe that's why I'm dreaming about it now.”
    Ethan, I can't. Don't make me.
    I couldn't believe it. There she was back in my mind, Kelting again. I tried to crack open the door, an inch further, and get back into hers.
    We can talk about this. You have to talk to me.
    Whatever Lena was feeling, she shook it off. I felt the doorbetween our minds slam shut. “You know what happened. You fell, trying to climb onto the crypt, and you were knocked out.”
    “But what happened to Sarafine?”
    She tugged on the strap of her bag. “I don't know. There was fire everywhere, remember?”
    “And she just disappeared?” “I don't know. I couldn't see anything, and by the time the fire died down, she was gone.” Lena sounded defensive, as if I was accusing her of something. “Why are you making such a big deal about this? You had a dream, and I didn't. So what? It's not like the others. It doesn't mean anything.” She started to walk away.
    I stepped in front of her and lifted my shirt again. “Then how do you explain this?”
    The jagged outline of the scar was still pink and newly healed. Lena's eyes were wide, catching the sunlight of the first day of summer. In the sun, her hazel eyes seemed to glint with gold. She didn't say a word.
    “And the song — it's changing. I know you hear it, too. Time is high? Are we going to talk about that?” She started backing away from me, which I guess was her answer. But I didn't care and it didn't matter, because I couldn't stop myself. “Something's happening, isn't it?”
    She shook her head.
    “What is it? Lena —”
    Before I could say anything else, Link caught up to us, snapping me with his towel. “Looks like nobody's goin’ to the lake today, except maybe you two.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Look at the tires, oh Whipped One. They're all slashed, every car in the lot, even the Beater.”
    “Every car?” Fatty, Jackson's truant officer, would be all over this. I calculated the number of cars in the lot. Enough to get the whole mess kicked up to Summerville, maybe even the sheriff's office. This was out of Fatty's league.
    “Every car except Lena's.” Link pointed at the Fastback in the parking lot. I still had trouble getting my head around the idea that it was Lena's car. The lot was in total chaos. Savannah was on her cell phone. Emily was screaming at Eden Westerly. The basketball team was going nowhere.
    Link bumped his shoulder against Lena's. “I don't really blame you for the rest a them, but did you have to get the Beater? I'm a little short on cash for new tires.”
    I looked at her. She was transfixed.
    Lena, did you?
    “It wasn't me.” Something was wrong. The old Lena would have bitten our heads off for even asking.
    “You think it was Ridley or —” I looked over at Link. I didn't want to say Sarafine's name.
    Lena shook her head. “It wasn't Ridley.” She didn't sound like herself, or sure of herself. “She's not the only one who hates Mortals, believe it or not.”
    I looked at her, but it was Link who said the one thing we were both thinking. “How do you know?”
    “I just do.”
    Over the chaos of the parking lot, a motorcycle gunned its engine. A guy in a black T-shirt swerved through the parked cars, blowing exhaust into the faces of angry cheerleaders, and disappeared out onto the road. He was wearing a helmet, so you couldn't see his face. Just his Harley.
    But my stomach balled itself up, because the motorcyclelooked familiar. Where had I seen it before? Nobody at Jackson had a motorcycle. The closest thing was Hank Porter's ATV, which hadn't worked since he