Inner Demons

39. Me In Profile

Out of all my regained memories, one thing seemed to slap me across the face. Jackson could see the future! He had drawn Tori's death before it happened, and he had seen me in a room of flames the night Agnes died. Now, I remembered that he also warned me not to take my necklace off. He had known the demon spirit attached to the necklace would save me.

I reached up and touched the sapphire pendant. What else had he seen since then?

I opened my eyes and looked around his room. Even in the semi-darkness, I could see his desk. It was littered with papers. I turned them over, one by one, hoping to see some of the drawings. All I found though were homework notes and random doodles. There was no sign of the notebook he'd had the night I was in his room all those weeks ago.

I searched through his drawers and in his closet with no luck. Frustrated, I sat down on his bed and laid my head on his pillow. I inhaled deeply. It smelled like him. I moved my hand under the pillow to support my head, and that's when I felt it. The notebook was hidden under his pillow.

I pulled it out, but before I had time to flip through his drawings, I heard the front door to the house open.

Crap.

Ella Mae was beginning to be a real pain in my ass. If she found me here, she certainly wouldn't keep it a secret from Mrs. Ashworth and the rest of the Order. I wasn't sure how easily they could reverse the effects of the elixir, and I didn't want to find out. Now that I had my memories back, I intended to keep them.

The house phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I heard Ella Mae pick up in the other room. Quickly, I put all of the ingredients back into the blue cabinet and climbed back through Jackson's window.

By the time I got back to my bedroom, I was thoroughly exhausted, but I knew I couldn't sleep. I took out Jackson's notebook and studied each drawing carefully.

In the beginning there were lots of things I didn't recognize. Probably things that happened long before I came to Peachville. Then, there were the drawings I knew. Tori's death. Agnes and me in the room of flames. I flipped past them, eager to see what came next.

I gasped as I saw a clear drawing of the horrible scene I'd witnessed Homecoming night. I looked away. I'd seen enough of Morgyn's blood to last a lifetime. The image was burned into my memory. I didn't need to see it again.

Why would Jackson have gone to the dance if he knew what was going to happen? His drawing explained what I had overheard between him and Morgyn. He was trying to convince her to stay home, but when she'd suggested they both stay home, what had he said to her?

But I can't leave her there unprotected.

He'd gone because of me. Tears formed at the corner of my eyes and I let them fall. Morgyn Baker's death was my fault. I tried to tell myself that she didn't have to go to that dance. Jackson tried to talk her out of it, but she'd insisted. She was in love with him.

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and flipped to the next page.A picture of Jackson sitting in a jail cell talking to me. I laughed through my tears. He'd been expecting me all along. I flipped to the next page and my eyes widened. There was a picture of Jackson being dragged from his cell by several figures dressed in dark clothing. I covered my hand with my mouth and choked back a sob. The Others! They were planning to capture him.

Frantically, I flipped to the next page in the book.

The next image was a picture of Jackson chained to a wall. His hands were out by his sides and his chest was bare. A dark figure held a silver dagger to his chest.

I turned the page, but there were no more drawings.

I sniffed, then went through the final series again. Jackson in jail, then taken in the night, then chained and stabbed in the heart. I couldn't let this happen. I needed to get in to see him right away. Making myself invisible again would take a lot of energy, but that was a risk I had to take. I knew it was dangerous, but I had no choice. I had to try to help him escape. I could hide him somewhere. On the third floor of Shadowford maybe?

I tore the last two drawings from the notebook and stood up. As I did, the notebook fell to the floor and several loose pages from the back of the book fell out. I leaned over to pick them up and saw my face.

I laid the loose pages across my bed and stared at them, open-mouthed. There were at least thirty different drawings of me. Portraits. Me in profile. Cheering at the game. Me in class. Each image was drawn with such care. He must have spent hours on them.

I traced my finger across the pages. I was touched by the level of detail he'd put into every feature of my face and every curl of my hair. I'd been wasting all this time with Drake the jerk when a guy like Jackson had been patiently watching me from the sidelines. Were these drawings proof of his feelings for me?

I was determined to ask him face to face. Right after I found a way to get him out of jail.