But I didn’t let him finish. I took a step forward until my face was just inches below his, and said as fiercely as I could, “Well, I’ve figured it out now. And all I can say is that if you think making it so Jesse and I never met will change my feelings about you, you’re dreaming.”

Paul looked hurt. But I knew it was all just a put-on. Because Paul doesn’t have feelings. Not if he really intends to do what I suspect.

But he was doing his best to prove me wrong.

“But, Suze,” he said, his blue eyes wide and innocent. “I’m just doing what you want. After that whole thing with Mrs. Gutierrez, you got me thinking…. I’m really trying totread the path of righteousness. And isn’t saving Jesse’s life the right thing to do? I mean, if you really love him, you must want what’s best for him, don’t you? And wouldn’t his living a long and happy life be what’s best for him?”

I blinked at him, completely thrown by the way he’d twisted everything around.

“That isn’t—I—” I couldn’t seem to get the words out. All I could do was stand there and stammer.

“That’s okay, Suze,” Paul said, reaching up and laying a hand on my arm—to comfort me, I suppose, in my hour of need. “You don’t have to thank me. Now, don’t you think we’d better get back? You don’t want Sister Ernestine to find you skipping class again, now, do you?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I had never in my life met anyone as manipulative as he was… with the exception, maybe, of my stepbrother Brad. Only Brad didn’t have Paul’s smarts and was rarely able to pull off anything more twisted than a house party… and even that had gotten busted by the cops.

“You’re—you’re high,” I finally managed to stammer, “if you think saving Jesse that night—the night he died—will guarantee him a long life. Who’s to say Diego won’t try again the next night? Or the next? What are you going to do, stay in 1850 and become Jesse’s personal bodyguard?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Paul said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “You see, I’d do anything—anything it takes—to make sure Jesse dies peacefully in his sleep at a ripe old age, so that he never, ever has need of a mediator.”

The colors in the courtyard—the red roof tiles along the Mission, the pink hibiscus blossoms, the deep green of the palm fronds—spun dizzyingly around me as his words sunk in. I tasted something awful rising in my throat.

“Why are you doing this?” I stared up at him in horror. “You must know it will never work. Getting rid of Jesse won’t make me care about you. I don’t like you in that way.”

“Don’t you?” Paul asked with a smile that was as cold as his gaze. “Funny, I could have sworn, the last time we kissed, that you did. At least a little. Enough, anyway—”

His voice trailed off suggestively… but just what he was suggesting, I couldn’t imagine.

“Enough for what?” I demanded.

“Enough,” Paul said, “that you’re thinking about transferring my soul out of my body and throwing Jesse’s in here instead.”

Chapter

eight

“Don’t bother denying it,” Paul said as I stared up at him in utter shock. “I know that’s what you’ve been planning ever since I first made the mistake of telling you about it.” The heat from the hand he’d placed on my arm seemed to singe my skin. “My saving Jesse’s life is more a preemptive strike than anything else. Because the truth is, I kind of like my body. I don’t really want to give it up for him.”

My mouth was moving—I know it was, because Paul seemed to be waiting for some kind of reply.

Only I couldn’t make a sound. I was that stunned.

Because it finally made sense, now. That accusation Paul had hurled at me the other day in his kitchen. That his plans for Jesse were a lot more humane than what I’d had planned for Paul. Because he was planning on saving Jesse, whereas I, apparently, am planning on killing Paul.

Except, of course, that I’m not.

But that didn’t seem to matter to him.

“It’s okay,” Paul assured me. “I mean, it’s kind of flattering in a way, really. That you think I’m hot enough to put your boyfriend’s soul into. It proves that, whatever you say, you do like me, a little. Or at least that you like making out with me.”

“That is so”—I found my voice at last. Unfortunately, it came out shrill as a banshee’s. I didn’t care, though. All I cared about was proving to him how very, very wrong he was—“so untrue! How could you even—what could have given you the idea that I—”

“Oh, come on, Suze,” Paul said. “Admit it. With me, it’s the real thing. Don’t tell me that when you’re with Jesse, you aren’t thinking about the fact that, cozy as things might get between the two of you, it’s all an illusion. That isn’t really his heart you hear beating in his chest. His skin isn’t really warm. Because he doesn’t have skin. It’s all in your head…. Not like this,” he added, gently stroking my armwith his thumb.

Until I wrenched my arm away, that is, and fell back a step. He looked taken aback, but held up both hands to indicate he wouldn’t touch me again. “Whoa, okay, Suze. Sorry. But you can’t deny it’s true that, when we kiss, you don’t exactly fight me off. At least, not right away—”

I felt my cheeks flame. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t believe he was bringing this up here, at school, of all places….

…especially considering that Jesse? Yeah, this was his new stomping ground. He was undoubtedly around somewhere nearby.

But I couldn’t deny what Paul was saying. I mean, I could, but I’d be lying.

“Of course I like it when you kiss me,” I said, though I practically had to cough out every word, they stuck in my throat so badly. “You’re a good kisser and you know it.” What else could I say? It was true. “But that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Which was also true.

But it didn’t seem to bother Paul.

“Proving my point,” he said smugly, “that you want my body, but with Jesse’s soul in it.”