Losing Logan

Twenty-two

I gather Carlos and my stuff and head home for a long, hot shower. I fill them both in on the full details during the ride back to my house. They are both too worried to leave my side, even when I tell them I’m fine and just really need a shower and a nap.

The hot water pounds on my back, relaxing away the tension as I stand in the shower, rinsing the sweet smelling soap off my skin. When I step out, wrapping my towel around me I freeze. In the mirror fog someone has written my name over and over. And I know it wasn’t Logan. I shiver, even though the room is hot and my skin is nearly burnt pink, wiping away the message with my hand.

I comb my fingers through my wet hair, tugging out any tangles. I stare at myself for a minute. No way am I going to let some stupid wanna be Reaper get the best of me. I refuse to be afraid. I refuse to let the people I love be afraid for me.

After drying off I step into a fresh set of clothes, this time black leggings and a long dress shirt with green lace and a thick belt. Taking my time I blow dry my hair, apply a layer of lotion to my face, and just a little bit of lip gloss. By the time I’m done I look like I’m ready for a night out instead of looking like I’ve just been attacked by a freaking ghost. I toss the hairbrush in the sink and walk back to my room where my boys are waiting for me. Logan is stretched out across my bed and Carlos is sitting in the chair flipping through channels on TV.

“You look better,” Logan says calmly.

“I feel better,” I admit. Nothing like having your brain nearly squeezed like a grape to put things in perspective.

Carlos spins around in the chair, holding out a stack of papers for me.

“Here’s everything I found on Death Spirits, Reapers, and haunting. I didn’t see anything that looked quite like what you described, but who knows? Something might jump out at you.”

I take the papers, forcing a smile.

“Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, his face twisted with concern.

“Fine.”

“So totally not fine then.”

I shrug. “Pretty much. But I’ll survive.”

“For now,” Logan cuts in. He has his hands tucked behind his head and he’s glaring at me.

“I told you, Logan, it wasn’t attacking me, not on purpose anyway.”

He sits up, “Exactly. Imagine what it could have done if it was trying to hurt you.”

“Well, what exactly would you like me to do about it, Logan? I can’t carry an iron pipe around with me all the time. Short of figuring out what it is and how to ship it back to wherever it came from, how should I be spending my time?”

My voice is sharp, crueler than I mean for it to be and he flinches.

“Well, how about you start by not wandering off alone to deserted basements? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Excuse me, but I was trying to figure this mess out. I mean, for shit’s sake, I’m here, doing all the work, trying to help you fix your screwed up afterlife, and all you do is mess with my head and drive me insane. You wanna talk to me about being stupid, you couldn’t even die right.”

Carlos stands up, holding up his hands. “Okay, I’m only getting half this convo, but Zoe, your bitch meter is hitting a twelve. I need you at a six, okay? And Logan, whatever buttons you’re pushing, you’d better back off before she goes nuclear.”

Logan glares at him.

“She started it.”

I snort. “He can’t hear you, polterdouche.”

“Zoe,” Carlos almost growls my name. “Knock it off. We are all on the same team here, okay.”

“Yeah, listen to your friend.”

I lunge for Logan, who skitters off the bed like he’s actually afraid I might try to pummel him. Carlos grabs my arm.

“Look, I have to get going. I’m supposed to be helping my mom set up for dad’s surprise birthday party tonight. Can you two get along or should I hose you down before I go?”

I huff and pull my arm away.

“We will be just fine.”

Kissing my forehead Carlos whispers.

“Zoe, play nice. And call me if you need anything.”

I nod, folding my arms across my chest.

As soon as he’s gone Logan starts in again.

“You know, you’re like a lollypop triple dipped in crazy.”

“Somewhere, the magical kingdom of Douche-Bagistan has lost its king. Because here you are.”

He chuckles. “Okay, that was a good one.”

I flop down in my chair, kicking my legs over the arm. “Thanks.”

“What now?” he asks after a minute of silence.

I hold up the papers. “I have homework. And you should probably go back to retracing your steps from the night you died. We are literally out of leads now. Your memory might be our only shot at getting you back where you belong.”

Logan sits near my feet, resting against the end of my bed. “Zoe, what happens if I go, and that thing is still here?”

I look up at him, not sure what to say.

He runs his fingers through his hair, looking away. “I’m just saying that maybe we shouldn’t be so focused on my moving on. Not right now. Not when you’re in danger.”

A long, jagged spike of fear stabs into my chest. I clutch the bottle cap necklace still dangling from my neck.

“The thing is, whatever The Reaper wants, whatever it’s here for, it’s on me. Maybe it’s fate. If so…I’m not going to fight it Logan. If it’s my time, then it’s my time. Maybe it should have been me all along. Maybe that’s what it’s trying to tell me.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t really believe that?”

I shrug. “Maybe I do. Maybe I’m just tired of trying to keep moving, keep living every day like I’m not already half dead inside.”

“Zoe—“

I hold up my hand.

“Let me just say this. If it’s my time or not, whatever happens, I want to help you first. I want to know that you are in a better place, that you aren’t trapped here. Because if something did happen to me, you’d be all alone, and I couldn’t bear that.”

“And I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

I bite my bottom lip, looking away. “I know.”

“No, you don’t. I look at you, and you say you’re half dead inside, but all I see is this fire all around you, this burning passion—this life. It’s like you’re a sun in the sky, when everything else is darkness. I feel you. And when we touch, it’s like a little bit of that life is rubbing off on me. So you can say you’re tired and you can say you’re going to accept your fate, but believe me when I tell you that you’re too strong for that. You have too much fight in you to just let go. So, don’t let go, okay? Promise me you’ll keep fighting.”

I smile weakly. “I promise.”

We spend the next few hours going over the printouts while Logan keeps watch from my window. I catch myself staring at him from time to time, thinking about his words and the promise I’m not sure I can keep.

My phone vibrates on my dresser and I get up to check it.

“Who is it?” Logan asks.

I frown. “It’s Kyle. He wants me to meet him. He says…Logan, he says he needs to see me right now. That he found out something about the person who killed you.”

I look up, my eyes locking on to Logan’s. It could be the break we’ve been waiting for, but something feels off. Deep in my gut, something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on what it is.

“He wants to meet me at The Tower.”

Logan strides up beside me, reading the text over my shoulder.

“Why The Tower?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No clue. Unless…Logan. What if he found something? Or what if Becker said something? Whatever it is, we need to know.”

“Try calling. Maybe he will just talk to you over the phone.”

It’s a good idea so I dial him up. It goes straight to voice mail.

“No dice, Frodo. I’m gonna have to go meet him.”

“I’m coming too.”

I nod. Of course he is. Let’s just hope things don’t get quite as intense as the last time Kyle and I were alone together.

“And Zoe,” he pauses pointing to my bed, “Take the poker.”

I grab the iron poker and my messenger bag and head for the car.