by Katie Klein
“Maybe you were right,” I tell him, tumbling onto my bed. “Maybe I was dreaming.”
He lies down beside me, and intertwines his fingers with mine. The anxiety begins to disappear, radiating in waves as it releases from my body, lifting, leaving it peacefully satisfied. I let go of a sigh as Seth brushes his thumb over mine, gently caressing it.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers.
He moves in, closer, lips pausing inches from mine. Wraps his arm around me, pulling me into him. I let out a quick gasp of air.
“I dream about you,” he murmurs, eyes grasping mine.
“You don’t sleep,” I choke, feeling a delirious passion coursing through my veins.
“I dream about your smile. About touching you. I dream about being with you. Like this.”
His warm hand slips beneath my tank top. He runs his fingers along my skin, tracing circles on my back. Tingles race up my spine. I feel him everywhere.
His lips brush against mine, and I drink him in, quenching a desire I didn’t realize I had.
He runs his fingers through my hair and I find myself tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head. I want to feel him, to feel his skin next to mine.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Holy Sh—,” I jerk away from Seth, startled by the sound of the voice.
“Joshua,” Seth growls, pulling himself away from me. “How many times have I told you . . . ? What are you even doing here?”
Joshua, Guardian Joshua, is standing in my bedroom, hand shoved deep inside a box of Cracker Jacks. “Just stopping by to check on things.” He crams a fistful of the caramel popcorn into his mouth. A few pieces miss and fall to the floor, scattering.
“Things are fine. Clearly,” Seth says through clenched teeth.
Joshua snickers. “Genesis, how are things going?” He asks, chewing.
I force a smile, pulling my comforter tighter around my body, feeling exposed. “Fine.”
“I hope my man Seth here is behaving himself.”
“Seth is the perfect gentleman,” I affirm, struggling to calm my hyperactive heartbeat.
Joshua’s shaggy blonde hair curls above his eyebrows. He’s such a departure from Seth: lighter, skinnier, younger.
Seth rolls his eyes, reaching for his shirt, muscles rippling as he moves. “Tell us why you’re here and get lost.”
“I’m on my way out. Just finished up at the beach. Some surfer went under. They called in reinforcements.” He shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“Some surfer?” I repeat.
“Yeah. A girl. There was a group out today. No one’s sure what happened. It took like, twenty minutes before we found her.”
“That sucks,” I mumble, glancing at Seth, whose expression is serious.
“Tell me about it. The waves aren’t even bad today. You should’ve seen me, though. The way I dove right into the water. I was like a freakin’ fish. I mean, no one could see me, but I was awesome.”
Seth ignores him. “There was no current? No rip tide? Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Joshua confirms. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“What are they saying?”
“Some think it was an accident. That the girl couldn’t swim good or something. Ask me what I think.”
“What do you think?” he asks, hesitating.
“Foul play. For sure.”
“Wait a minute,” I break in. “Foul play?” My eyes travel back and forth between Seth and Joshua. “You mean like, someone did it on purpose?”
“Or something,” Joshua emphasizes.
“All right, man. Thanks for the information. Now get out.”
Joshua scoffs. “Can’t a man hang with his friends?”
I smile. “Joshua, you’re welcome here any time,” I say.
His face lights up.
“No you’re not,” Seth argues.
“Yes. You are. And I’m sorry about last time. You don’t look like you’re twelve.”
Joshua fades around the edges. “Thanks, Gen. I knew I liked you.” In the next moment, he’s gone.
I turn back to Seth. We lie there, facing each other for the longest time. He watches me, eyes intense.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask.
“Nothing.”
“Something’s bothering you. Is it us? Is this wrong?”
“Yes. It’s wrong, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Oh. Is it about what Joshua said?”
Seth presses his lips together tightly.
“It is,” I confirm. “I don’t get it. Why can’t we just write this off as some kind of accident? Why does it have you so concerned?”
“Because sometimes accidents . . . aren’t really accidents.” He inhales and exhales slowly before continuing. “Remember when I said that there was a battle going on? Good versus evil?”
I nod.
“Everyone has a Guardian that protects them. But for every good thing that’s being done, there are those out there who are undoing it.”
“So you think that an evil . . . . something was responsible for today?”
“We call them Diabols, or the Evil Ones, but yeah, it’s a possibility. And always in the back of our minds. We outnumber them. There are three of us for every one of them. But they’re strong. And evil spreads. Like wildfire. Once they start they’re almost impossible to stop.”
“But good always prevails, right?”
Seth runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, and shakes his head. “I’d like to say yes, but . . . that’s not always the case. They don’t quit. They’re like a cancer. They’re relentless. And as long as they’re around, they’re causing trouble.”
“These Diabols, or whatever . . .”
“I guess they’re what you would consider a demon,” he interrupts.
“Okay. These demons. How do you get rid of them?”
“That’s the problem. Unless they’re in their human form, we can’t. The best we can do is try to prevent them from doing evil in the first place, lessen the blow, or help pick up the pieces.”
I’d never considered attributing the evil in the world to an almost unstoppable force. I just assumed there were ugly people in the world. Ugly people who did unforgivable things. The idea that they were possibly being pushed toward evil. . . .
“Wait. The accident? And that car that almost hit me? Could that have been . . . ,” I trail off, unable to finish, because the thought that evil people—these things—were out for blood—my blood, even. . . . I swallow hard, a wave of nausea passing over me.
“It’s possible,” Seth answers. “Which is why we have to be on guard at all times.” A long minute passes. “There’s something else, too,” he goes on, breaking the silence. He presses his fingers into his temples. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.” He heaves a deep sigh, straight from his chest.
“What?” I urge him to go on.
“They’re talking about you.”
My pulse quickens. “What? Who’s talking about me?”
“The Guardians.”
“Why?”
“It seems . . . they think you might be useful. To us.”
“I’m not following,” I say, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Your visions. Your . . . predictions. There’s talk that maybe you can work with us. To help us eliminate some of the Diabols’ work before it gets out of hand.”
“Really?”
“I’ve tried to tell them that you don’t even know when you’re going to get them. Or what they’re going to be about.”
I snap to attention. “Wait. You what?”
“I told them that it’s not predictable.”
“But what if it is?” I ask him. “What if I can work on it? What if I can help?”
He bolts upright. A panicked expression crossing his face, fear flashing in his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Don’t even say—don’t even think that!”
“What?”
A cold, nearly murderous anger consumes him. “Do you realize what would happen to you?” he asks, voice rising. “How much danger you would be in? Do you actually think I’m going to let them put you in the middle of all this?”
I sit up. “If I remember correctly, that’s not your responsibility.”
He wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands, his habit of choice, a physical sign of his internal unease. “I should’ve never said anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” he mumbles, laughing bitterly.
“I don’t understand. If they think I could be useful. . . . I mean, there must be some kind of reason I’m seeing this stuff, right? What if it’s for a greater purpose?”
“Genesis, this battle has been going on since the beginning of time. Nothing you can do could possibly help.”
I scoff, eyes narrowing. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
“This is real, Genesis. It’s dangerous. And once word gets out . . . you’re going to be the target, if you’re not already.”
I suck in a lungful of air and hold it. “You don’t know that.” But my voice comes out smaller, quieter than I’d like, dispelling my air of tenacity.
“I do know that,” he mutters. “I have a hard enough time protecting you as it is. I don’t need legions of angry demons making my work any harder.”
“I thought I wasn’t just a job.”
“You’re not just a job,” he says. “Which is why it’s important that you forget I said any of this. Promise me, Genesis. Promise that you won’t give it another thought.” His eyes are pleading, and for a moment I find myself drowning in them. I fight to look away. “I can’t lose you.”
“It’s not like I can control the predictions, anyway,” I mumble, half under my breath.
Seth hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me closer to him, planting a soft kiss on my temple, my eyelid, my cheekbone. “Without you, there’s no reason for me to exist.”
I watch his mouth as he speaks, focusing on the way his lips move—feeling them everywhere, heart fluttering in anticipation as I slowly lean in to kiss him.
TWENTY
My mom and Mike stumble through the door long after Seth and I moved to the living room to watch television. They seem happy: voices loud and laughter light. Mom is still in her work clothes, but they must’ve gone to dinner, or to a bar, maybe. Even in the doorway, Mike reeks of alcohol. She settles down when she realizes I’m not alone.
“Genesis?”
I fly off the worn, saggy couch, smoothing my shorts and my tank top, trying to appear less rumpled—like I haven’t been lying around all afternoon. “Yeah. Mom. This is Seth. Seth, this is my mom.” He stands beside me, and suddenly I’m aware of how broad he is, how tall.
She hesitates, but only for a moment. “Nice to meet you,” she says.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. Genesis has told me a lot about you.”
“Hmm.” She smiles. I can almost hear the wheels in her head spinning, wondering: then why do I know nothing about you? “So . . . how do you two know each other?” she asks.
“Oh, we just sort of ran into . . . ,” I begin.
“School,” Seth declares at the exact same time.
I swallow hard. Mom looks back and forth between us, her eyes probing, lips pressed in a tight line.
I clear my throat. “What he means is,” I say, glancing at Seth, “that we met at school previously . . . but then we sort of ran into each other.”
“I went there,” Seth adds. “To school. Like Genesis.” He coughs into his fist.
“The same school,” I clarify.
“Really?” She eyes us suspiciously.
“We were just hanging out,” I explain.
“Sounds like fun.” Mom fully enters the room. “This is Mike,” she says, introducing him to Seth. Mike has barely made it inside. He still stands at the entryway, leaning against the door. Pathetic drunk.
Mom heads into the kitchen, reaching for her ears, removing the large silver hoops dangling from them.
“I guess I should head out,” Seth announces.
“No need to rush off,” Mom calls.
“No, it’s okay. I have some things to do.”
“I’ll walk you outside,” I say.
We move for the door, passing Mike on our way. “It was nice meeting you,” he calls.
I follow him out the front door and into the night. The air is warm and moist and it dampens my skin. A gentle wind blows in off the ocean. I step onto the cool, wet grass. The blades poke at my bare feet.
“That was awkward. I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms across my chest, trying to rid them of the goose bumps that prick the surface.
He smiles. “We probably should’ve gotten our story straight ahead of time.”
“I know, right?” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t think this far in advance, even. I mean, us hanging out. In real life, and all.”
“In real life?” His eyebrow raises, perplexed.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, not really.”
I inhale. “I mean, you being here. The physical you. Not the you that hides in the shadows and stalks me.” I pause for a moment, trying to determine what, exactly, I’m trying to say. “Okay, I wasn’t implying that your life isn’t ‘real.’ It’s just that your real is obviously different from my real, and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re hanging out, it’s just that it’s a little on the strange side.” I shrug. “So far you’ve been like . . . a great secret.”
A teasing smile plays at his lips. “A secret, huh? Well, if you think you’ve spent enough time saying goodbye you can go back inside and I’ll just plan to meet you in your room. Unless, you know, you’re done with me.”
“I’m never done with you.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, a peculiar expression crossing his face. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he murmurs.
His touch sends flutters through my stomach, and I fight against the urge to lean in and kiss him.
“Well, Genesis, it was fun. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Good night.”
“Night,” I reply. I head back down the walkway, stealing a quick glance as Seth strides gracefully away, watching until he disappears from sight.
TWENTY-ONE
I wake up just before my alarm clock is set to ring. Sunlight seeps through the cheap beige blinds that cover the window. I roll over and find myself gazing at the white rose, which appears just as perfect as it had the day before. I smile when I see it, and kick off the sheets with a renewed sense of . . . being.
I dress, run a brush through my hair, add some eyeliner and mascara, and waltz happily into the living room. Mom appears to have slept on the couch again. An afghan is crumpled on the cushion, pillow propped against the edge. She’s in the kitchen now, warming a mug of water in the microwave for a cup of instant coffee.
“I’m heading out,” I call, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“Genesis?”
I stop in the middle of the room, hesitating before I answer. “Yeah?”
“Come here for a second.”
I force my breathing to even as I enter the kitchen.
This can’t be good.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. I didn’t get a chance to see you before you went to bed. When I checked, you were already asleep.” She drops her instant coffee packet into the mug. The water steams just above the rim.
“I was kind of tired,” I say. I try to tuck my hair behind my ears, just to do something with my hands, until I realize it’s already tucked. “And you were kind of busy.”
“Mmm,” she says. Something inside me knows this isn’t exactly why she summoned, so I wait for her to continue.
“About this guy you’re seeing . . .”
Are Seth and I seeing each other? Is that even possible? I mean, inter-realmal dat
ing? “Seth,” I remind her. I glance around the room, realizing that it’s quite possible—probable, even—that he’s hovering nearby, and can hear everything Mom is about to say. I hope this isn’t going to be one of those conversations.
“How did you meet again?”
“Um, school. Sort of. He went to my school, but he’s already graduated. He has some friends there, so he hangs around a lot.”
“And you just ran into each other?”
“Yeah.”
“How does Carter feel about this?”
I don’t think Carter knows about this.
“Um, he’s fine with it, I guess.”
“Really? I know you’ve had your differences since the accident, but I thought the two of you were still kind of a thing.”
I force my eyes not to roll. “No. Actually, though, I really need to get to school.”
She checks her wristwatch. “You’re early. I just want to chat for a minute.” She turns to me, coffee mug cupped in her hand, eyes probing. “I feel like we haven’t had a chance to talk lately.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Mike. I get it. But communication is a two-way street, right?”
“I’ve been busy, too,” I admit.
She sighs, and sets her mug on the counter. I stifle a groan.
Here it comes.
“I just think it may be too soon for you to get serious with a new boy.”
“Seth and I aren’t serious,” I tell her. “It’s just . . . complicated.” I swallow the sarcastic laugh poised at the back of my throat. That’s the understatement of the year. The boy doesn’t even exist on my plane of reality. He’s a supernatural playboy. My guardian angel. Saying things are complicated is me being generous.
“He seems a little old for you,” she says.
“Mom, he’s only a year or two older.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s in high school.”
“Because he’s not. I mean, he graduated.” The lies spew faster and faster.
“He seems a lot older than you. You know you have to be careful with these older guys, Genesis. They want different things.”
I let my eyes roll dramatically. “Mom, trust me. Seth is like, the safest boyfriend imaginable. If you even knew . . .” who he is, I want to add. I clear my throat, stopping myself. “If you knew him, you’d understand.”