Reign or Shine

by Michelle Rowen

  I talked to her for ten minutes about the dance—and her date and what she was planning to wear—until I felt better. After I hung up the phone, I figured I’d get started on my studying.

  I was so mad that I’d allowed myself to believe Michael’s stupid joke. That jerk was probably laughing right now at how gullible I was.

  Other dimensions. Sure.

  I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it myself without Melinda’s help, as I shakily walked through the dark and silent house and up the staircase to my bedroom. Lining the walls were framed covers of my mom’s romance novels. Being married and divorced multiple times hadn’t done much to change the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and she loved to talk about—and write about—being in love. My father had never been part of those conversations, though.

  My eyes narrowed at the thought of my father. If I did have the chance to someday meet the man who had left her alone, I’d have several choice things to say to him, none of which was, “Nice to meet you, Daddy.”

  Demon king.

  I was sure he was a demon, all right. But of the purely human variety.

  By this time, the envelope Michael had given me was all wrinkled up, and I threw it on my bed along with my backpack. My stomach was churning and I still had my headache.

  I wondered what the point of the practical joke had been—other than just messing with me. I was supposed to read this note and then go with him. Where was he going to take me? Or would he have come clean about everything before that?

  Not to mention, how did he even know that I’d never met my father before? That was inside information I didn’t share with just anyone.

  Strange.

  On the other hand, what if the letter was from my father after all? I was sure he was out there somewhere in the world. When not imagining that he was dead, I would imagine that he was in jail. That’s probably where he was. And now if he was writing to me . . . maybe it was to borrow some money. Maybe he had some mob bosses after him, wanting to break his kneecaps unless he came through with cold, hard cash.

  Yeah, that made total sense.

  I was sure he was a bad guy. What kind of person would abandon his unborn child? And leave a beautiful woman like my mom?

  I frowned. What was I even thinking? The envelope wasn’t from him at all. I was totally obsessing.

  Just a practical joke. Right?

  If that was the case, then why were my arms crossed so tightly that I couldn’t even feel my hands? All over a stupid envelope?

  I grabbed it off my bed and sliced it open with a fingernail. Something heavy and loose slipped out and fell to the floor. I leaned over to pick it up and realized that it was a bracelet. A thin gold chain with one charm—a clear crystal in the shape of a teardrop. It was very pretty, actually.

  With the bracelet dangling off my index finger, I pulled a folded piece of paper from the envelope. I held it in my hand for a good three minutes before unfolding it and focusing enough to read the short, precisely handwritten message:

  Dearest Nikki,

  As Michael has explained to you, it is imperative that I see you immediately. There is much to explain about who you are and what it means. Now that you’ve turned sixteen, time is of the essence. You may have trouble believing all of this, or you may have already experienced the side effects of being a Darkling—one who is half demon and half human. Please try to open your mind to this, because it is the truth. Wear the bracelet I’ve given you. It will help focus your power and may, with practice, make it manageable. Let Michael lead you to see me, I trust him implicitly. I look forward to finally meeting you after all this time.

  Your father

  I set the letter aside. My hands were shaking.

  My father was a demon king. So that meant I was a half-demon princess—a Darkling? He ruled the . . . what had Michael called it? The Shadowlands?

  The letter had talked about side effects. Well, other than a persistent headache, I hadn’t experienced anything strange since I turned sixteen. So what was it? A magical headache? A demonic migraine?

  I glanced at my reflection in my vanity mirror. Long, straight honey blonde hair. A scattering of annoying freckles on my nose that only went away if I took the time to use both foundation and pressed powder. Hazel-colored eyes with golden flecks. Pale lashes that required two coats of mascara to give the look of actual eyelashes.

  Well, hello there, demon princess.

  What a joke.

  I tore the letter into itty-bitty pieces and then threw them in the toilet bowl. I flushed them away before going downstairs to take two Tylenol with a glass of milk. Stress headache. That had to be it.

  Even though I’d rationalized the entire experience, I still felt shaken and tired and more than a little mad. It had been such a great day and this Michael freak had to go and ruin it for me. I couldn’t even concentrate on studying, so I decided to forget about it. There would be some time in the morning to read about the doomed star-crossed lovers and try to fake my way through the test.

  I was exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

  At least one good thing had come out of this lousy experience, though.

  I had a really nice, shiny new bracelet.

  Even though my first inclination had been to flush it down the toilet along with the pieces of the letter, I’d stopped myself. It was way too pretty to throw away.

  Besides, Robert-the-jerk would probably kill me if I clogged up his plumbing. He was funny like that.

  * * *

  The next morning, I left the house early enough to walk to school the long way. I wasn’t taking any chances by cutting through the park again. I’d decided to wear the bracelet, and the teardrop crystal sparkled in the sunshine. I tried to forget who’d given it to me and just enjoy it for what it was.

  Besides, I figured it was probably fake and would turn my wrist green by lunch. Then I’d throw it away. It was a plan.

  I turned the corner at the end of my block and my stomach sank.

  “Not you again,” I said, feeling my heart speed up as crazy-stalker-practical-joke guy stood blocking my way. “I’m not in the mood this morning.”

  Michael’s hands were still shoved deeply into the pockets of his blue hoodie. In fact, he wore the exact same clothes that he had yesterday.

  “Did you read it?” he asked.

  I willed myself to remain calm. “Read what?”

  “The letter.”

  “You can let it go now,” I said through clenched teeth as I started walking again. “The joke’s over.”

  “What joke?”

  I glared at him. “The joke that makes you feel like you need to stalk me. It’s not funny.”

  “I’m not stalking you.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  He kept pace with me, since I wasn’t slowing down. “Your father needs to see you immediately, Princess.”

  “Don’t call me Princess! Would you just let it go?” I was sure that my face was now flushed, which did nothing to help the freckle situation. “Leave me alone or I’m going to tell Chris.”

  “Who’s Chris?” he asked.

  “Like you don’t know. Chris Sanders? Pretty sure he outweighs you by about thirty pounds. You wouldn’t stand a chance if I told him you were bothering me.”

  Michael’s green eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  Great. The guy was stubborn as well as crazy.

  With a haircut and trendier clothes, though, he’d fit in just fine at Erin Heights—and he was definitely cute enough to be one of Chris’s friends. It was annoying how good-looking I found him, despite what a jerk he was being, but I pushed that aside.

  “I did read the letter,” I said.

  “And? Are you ready to go? I can find a dimensional gateway, but it might take me a few minutes. Then we can see King Desmond.”

  Hold on. I stopped walking and began to feel sick to my stomach.

  “What did you just call him?”

  “King
Desmond,” he repeated.

  My father’s name was Desmond. I knew that. That was the one piece of information my mom had definitely shared with me—and which I’d never shared with anyone else.

  “How do you know his name?” I asked.

  “Because . . .” He looked confused. “Because he sent me here personally. I already explained this to you.”

  I turned my attention to the sidewalk in front of me and started moving again. “I have to go to school.”

  “School is meaningless right now.”

  “Explain that to my mother.”

  “Princess, please.” He grabbed my arm and I tensed. He immediately let go of me. “Please stop walking for a second.”

  I stopped and turned to look at him. “The name is Nikki. Not Princess.”

  “Nikki.” He said it oddly, as if he wasn’t certain he should be saying it at all.

  I watched the air puff out in front of me with every quick exhale I made. However, when Michael breathed, there were no puffs of frozen air.

  That was odd.

  “I can prove to you that what I’ve told you is true.” His brow lowered with concentration and then he looked down at his chest. “My amulet. It’s not from this world.”

  His sweatshirt hung open and I couldn’t believe he wasn’t cold—the morning was just as frigid as last night. He wore a strange pendant that rested over his T-shirt—a gold chain with a large green stone, like an emerald, but I didn’t think emeralds came that big. It was literally the size and shape of a flat egg. The strange stone appeared to pulse with light under the gray skies. I tilted my head to the side as I studied it.

  It was the exact same color as Michael’s eyes. What was it made of? I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to touch the stone, and I reached toward him.

  “Princess, don’t—” Michael seemed to freeze in place as I moved closer. My fingers brushed against the softness of the worn T-shirt before lightly touching the stone itself.

  ZZAAPPPP!

  The painful shock shot up my arm and I jumped back from him.

  “What the—?” I held my jarred hand against my chest. I felt as if I’d just stuck my finger into a light socket.

  Frowning deeply, Michael took a big step away from me. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why did it do that? Are you plugged into something electric?”

  “Just—” His chest moved in and out with increased but non-frosty breathing, and he quickly zipped up his sweatshirt, pulling the hood over his dark hair. I noticed his throat working, the Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed hard. “Just don’t touch me again.”

  I didn’t particularly like the way he said it. As if I couldn’t keep my hands off him.

  “Your father will be angry.” He stared at me, and something resembling fear replaced his previously guarded gaze.

  “I don’t know who he really is or why he sent you, but I don’t want to see him. Feel free to tell him that.”

  Instead of insisting he escort me to my oh-so-important father/daughter meeting, Michael turned away and stormed off without saying another word.

  My hand still stung from touching his amulet.

  Not a practical joke.

  Not crazy.

  He knew my father’s real name.

  What in the world was going on?

  4

  I walked to school on autopilot, my thoughts in a million different places, and none of them, unfortunately, on my English test. I was definitely going to fail it. Accepting the inevitability of that was probably the best approach.

  Michael was seriously freaking me out. Was it possible my real father had sent him to get me? And what was his amulet made of? Why would he be wearing something dangerous like that?

  I wished that when I looked into his green eyes, I’d just see a crazy guy looking out at me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that all I saw was sincerity.

  “Hey, Nikki!”

  I looked to my left to see Chris, hanging out by the lockers with his jock buddies. The ones who I’d convinced myself were playing the practical joke on me. Of course, now I knew it wasn’t a joke.

  I really wished it was.

  “Hey, yourself.” I forced a smile to my face, trying to push away all other thoughts, and approached him. I prayed that no poppy seeds from my hastily eaten breakfast bagel were stuck in my teeth.

  One of his buddies grinned. “Why don’t we leave you two alone?”

  The rest of the guys laughed and walked away down the hall.

  I didn’t know what to make of their reaction to me. Maybe I had one big poppy seed in my teeth. Maybe they were laughing about Chris asking me to the dance. Or maybe it was something completely different. Even on a good day, when somebody laughed around me and I wasn’t in on the joke, I assumed that they were laughing at me. Sure, call me paranoid, but when you’re the new kid it was true more than not.

  Chris smiled at me. “You look great this morning.”

  I guess I looked more relaxed than I felt, but it was so good to see him—a wonderful, normal guy who made me happy just by his presence and didn’t give me any problems. “You look pretty great yourself.”

  He leaned closer to me and kissed me. It was a morning greeting I could very easily get used to. After a moment he pulled away and his gaze moved to the right.

  “Nikki, we seem to have an audience again,” he said.

  I turned around in Chris’s arms and tensed when I saw that Michael stood about fifteen feet down the hall on the opposite side. He watched us, his face void of expression.

  “Do you want something?” Chris asked.

  Michael eyed him unpleasantly. “Nothing from you.”

  I tried to grab Chris’s arm as he pulled away from me. “Chris—”

  But it was too late. Chris was already moving to stand in front of Michael. They were both the same height, around six feet tall. But where Michael was all sinewy, all lean lines under those loose-fitting clothes, Chris was solid muscle under designer threads. Michael’s hair was shoulder length, dark and shaggy, but Chris’s was blond, recently cut, and gleaming from whatever hair products guys use to get that controlled-but-tousled look.

  “Do you have a problem with me for some reason?”

  Michael’s attention was now fixed on me. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “You’re not sure?” Chris repeated. “What exactly do you think you’re looking at?”

  Michael was looking at me so intensely that I could feel it.

  “I’m looking at Nikki Donovan,” he said. “I need to protect her.”

  I found that I couldn’t stop looking at Michael. It was as if he’d captured me in his green-eyed gaze and wouldn’t let go. I wanted to tell Chris what Michael had said—all the crazy things about my father that didn’t seem to make any sense. But I didn’t say anything. I knew I should be looking at Chris, but the only person I could see was Michael—and that haunted, protective look in his eyes.

  “I suggest,” Chris’s voice cut through, “that you look somewhere else and leave her alone.”

  “And I suggest,” Michael said calmly, “that you mind your own business.”

  I bit my bottom lip. That was definitely not a good response.

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. “You need to leave now.”

  Michael’s attention finally moved from me to Chris. “I’ll leave when Nikki does.”

  “She’s not going anywhere with you if that’s what you’re thinking.” Chris’s expression was becoming less friendly with each passing moment.

  Michael glared at him. “I thought I told you to mind your own business.”

  Chris grabbed a handful of Michael’s T-shirt and pushed him up against the lockers.

  “You need to leave now,” Chris growled. “I won’t tell you again.”

  With one hand, Chris shoved him a few feet down the hallway. Michael’s cool, slightly sullen exterior had slipped a bit. Under the line of his dark hair, I could see a glitter in hi
s eyes as he looked back at Chris. Was it anger? I wouldn’t be surprised. Nobody liked being pushed around first thing in the morning in front of a growing crowd of students.

  But the look in Michael’s eyes as he glared at Chris made a shiver run down my spine. It was more than anger. It was the look of a predator. Then he glanced at me for a moment—at my deep frown—and his expression softened.

  ::Are you coming with me or not, Princess?::

  I looked around. Where had that come from? It definitely wasn’t my thought.

  ::Princess? Can you hear me?::

  My eyes widened. Could I read his thoughts? Were those Michael’s thoughts?

  I shook my head slowly. No, that’s impossible.

  “I’m staying right here,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Fine. I’m not going to force you,” Michael said out loud, and it didn’t sound remotely friendly. When he turned and walked away I had the insane urge to run after him, but I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed frozen where I was.

  Chris watched Michael move down the hall. “Yeah, just like I thought.”

  Michael’s shoulders went rigid, but he kept walking until the door at the end of the hall clanged shut. The crowd dissipated until only Chris and I remained. The bell for first period rang.

  He turned to me. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded shakily.

  “What a loser,” he said, then he started to look concerned. “You don’t already know him, do you?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Thought for a minute he was an ex-boyfriend of yours. All obsessed. It happens.”

  “Definitely not.” I tried to ignore the sick churning feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “It’ll be fine. He won’t bother you again.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” He grinned after a moment. “Thought I was going to have to fight him for a moment there—defend your honor, or something.”

  I forced an unsteady smile to my face. “My knight in shining armor.”

  “I kind of like the sound of that.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  When he took off for class, I pressed back against the locker door and slowly slid to the floor. I gathered my knees close to my chest and tried to breathe, before scrambling through my backpack for my bottle of water. I took two Tylenol to combat my headache.