by Syrie James
He found Brian in the den, playing air hockey with Kayla. “Hey,” Alec said, his spirits rising a fraction as he walked over.
Brian returned a “Hey, man,” his attention fully focused on the game.
“Have you seen Claire?”
“Nope, busy dominating the ice. Ha! Take that!” Brian cried as he sent a puck flying into Kayla’s goal.
“Don’t gloat,” Kayla retorted. “It won’t happen again.” Smiling at Alec, she withdrew the puck and placed it on the table. “He actually thinks he has a chance. He forgets I’m half-Canadian. Hockey runs in my veins.”
“That’s why he usually sticks to Ping-Pong,” Alec commented with a grin.
Brian didn’t notice the joke at all, but Kayla laughed, then directed her attention back to the table. In a blink, she scored a lightning-fast bank shot on Brian.
“Damn it!” Brian waved Alec away melodramatically. “Begone, Alec, you’re bad luck.”
Alec turned away, muttering a brief, “Sorry.” Brian might have been kidding, but it didn’t do anything to help Alec’s mood. Or to make him feel a part of the festivities. Dumping his paper plate in the trash, he moved on to the family room, which was crowded with kids talking and laughing. He spotted two guys spiking their drinks behind Erica’s parents’ built-in bar. Alec continued on, seeking a quiet place where he could fester in silence. Maybe he could find a book to read.
At the far end of the hall, a doorway opened onto what looked like a home gym, where two people were staring at each other intently.
Claire and Neil.
As Alec watched, Claire grabbed Neil by the hand and pulled him outside, shutting the sliding glass doors behind them.
Alec stopped dead in his tracks, his fist tightening on a nearby doorjamb. What were Claire and Neil doing here, away from everyone else?
Through the glass doors, he could see them standing on the covered patio, silhouetted against the darkness by the landscape lighting. Looking far more intimate than he’d expect, based on their current status.
But what did he really know? It had been over a week since he and Claire had spoken. Had she taken refuge from their fight in the arms of her longtime crush? Neil looked damn smart, after all, in a gray blazer with a folded handkerchief peeking above his breast pocket, and one of those fancy ascots he seemed to love.
Alec heard a snap and realized that he’d splintered the doorjamb in his grip.
“What the hell, Brennan?” Neil yanked his hand from Claire’s and stepped back. “Why’d you drag me out here?”
Rain beat down hard on the patio roof overhead and bounced off the flagstones beyond. “I didn’t want anyone else interrupting us, or eavesdropping,” Claire explained, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold night air.
“Well, excuse the shit out of me. I’m minding my own business, when suddenly I hear two voices blabbing about ‘paranormal, life-and-death-angel stuff’ right outside the bathroom door? And then—”
“Right, well—”
“Then you and Fisher are going on and on about—what was it? Mind-control powers? Brainwashing? MacKenzie being a superhero? The ‘Fallen’?” Neil shook his head.
Claire took a deep breath. “Okay. Neil. If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”
“What? Or you’ll have to kill me?”
She sighed. “Do you promise?”
He threw up his hands, scowling. “Sure. Fine. Hit me.”
Where to start? Claire knew he’d suspected something about her and Alec back at the Homecoming Dance fiasco, but for any of it to make sense, she had to go back to the beginning. Well, almost the beginning. “Do you remember, last fall, when I offered to tutor you in Spanish?”
Neil’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”
“Well …” Claire felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what she was about to tell him. Knowing about this stuff had already damaged her friendship with Erica. But her relationship with Neil was already broken. This might be the only way to win back his trust. If she could get him to believe her. “That happened because I got a vision of a possible future where you were going to fail that test. Because I’m only half-human. And that’s one of my powers.”
Neil’s scowl was replaced by an insulting smirk. “Half-human? Okay. Sure. So what’s your other half?”
“Angel.”
Now he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I knew some kids were raiding the liquor cabinet, but I didn’t think you were one of them.”
Claire felt tears threatening the edge of her vision. “Neil, I’m being real here.”
Neil backed away from her. “What does that even mean? When I asked you to be straight with me at Homecoming, you blew me off. And now your solution is to feed me this bullshit?”
Tears ran down Claire’s cheeks now, warm against her skin. “Please. I’ve been holding on to this for so long because I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
Neil’s body language softened. But he said nothing.
“I need you to just listen to me right now, Neil. No interruptions until I’m finished. It’ll probably be the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard, but I swear it’s true.”
Alec stood by the bar in the den. Another set of sliding glass doors overlooked the rear patio, giving him a silent view of Neil and Claire’s pseudo-repeat performance of the Lancelot/Guinevere scene. Claire was crying now. What was going on out there? What was she telling Neil?
Alec’s heart lurched with frustration and pain. Usually, he was highly skilled at reading people, yet he had no idea how to interpret the look on Neil’s face. All Alec knew was that his possibly ex-girlfriend was pouring out her heart to someone else, instead of him.
Alec tore his glance away. On the other side of the bar, two boys were adding vanilla-flavored vodka to their plastic cups of punch. Alec felt a weird twinge in his gut. Every time he’d observed people drinking alcohol over the decades, he’d looked down on them as if they were “lesser” somehow, for needing chemical alteration to relieve stress or have fun. He’d always believed that if he were ever lucky enough to pass for human, he wouldn’t need that kind of thing.
Right now, though, a stress-relieving beverage sounded tempting. A voice in the back of his head warned him that it was a bad idea. He’d already experienced the effects of a stimulant when he drank the Turbo. Did he really want to alter his body chemistry again, this time with a depressant?
Yes, he did.
If I try it, Alec thought, I’ll finally know what it’s all about. Over the past six months, he’d indulged in a host of foods that had formerly been forbidden due to his strict training regimen. And the only side effect had been bliss. So why not this? It’s not like Claire will care, anyway, his mind growled further, while that other, quieter voice countered, Don’t. There are good reasons you’ve avoided this one.
“Screw it,” muttered Alec to himself, swiping the vodka bottle. He looked around for a cup, but didn’t see any. All he could find were a collection of shot glasses from the Fishers’ world travels. Alec chose one from his native Edinburgh, and, with a bitter smile at the irony, poured himself a shot and gulped it down.
He couldn’t taste anything at first. Just an intense burning sensation as he swallowed. He struggled not to gag, mostly from surprise, wishing he’d brought a Coke or bottle of water to sip from afterward. A “chaser,” he’d heard it called. Yeah, there was a taste after all—a pungent, synthetic vanilla flavor trying its best to cover the mild, rubbing-alcohol odor behind it.
After a moment, all the unpleasantness passed, and he felt a warm sensation in the center of his chest. Alec took another shot. Although he was a newbie at this, and his Grigori healing abilities were surely combating the effects of the alcohol, something was definitely happening. There was a slight numbing sensation in his fingertips and his brain, and a weird distortion to
his vision where everything seemed to be occurring a little slower. The new feelings were a welcome distraction. Numbness was just what he needed right now.
But the pain returned the second he glanced out the window at Neil and Claire. They were huddled together now, seated on side-by-side patio chairs. It looked like Claire was doing all the talking, wiping away tears as she spoke.
All at once, Alec understood what was happening. Claire was telling Neil everything.
Everything they had agreed to keep secret. Everything that could compromise Alec’s existence here.
Once Neil knew what they both were—even if he didn’t tell anyone—where would it lead? Neil could finally forgive Claire for lying to him back at Homecoming. Claire could finally have a partner who was a hundred percent human. Neil didn’t come with any baggage. He was a far safer match for Claire. In the wake of Valentine’s Day, would she choose Neil over him? Had she already done so?
Alec poured himself another shot and drank it down. Just then, Erica’s father breezed into the room. Alec quickly slipped away from the bar, stealthily depositing the glass on a bookshelf at the far end of the room so as to not draw attention to himself.
His mind kept replaying the image of Claire and Neil in rehearsal, in their “passionate embrace.” If he didn’t get involved right now, he knew what would happen. Neil would take Claire’s hand in understanding. Claire would look into Neil’s eyes. And there’d be a repeat performance of their stage kiss, except this time it would be the real thing.
The thought of standing by and doing nothing while Neil stole his girlfriend was like an ice pick to the heart.
Claire dried her eyes and nose with the back of her hand and dared a glance at Neil, desperate to know what he was thinking.
He wasn’t looking at her, just staring out into the rain.
She’d told him everything. About the first time she got a vision, the pain they used to cause her, the unexpected revelation that Alec had powers, too, the truth behind the scaffolding incident, her mysteriously missing Grigori father, her newly discovered grandmother, and all the drama behind her Halfblood relationship with Alec, the AWOL avenging angel. Even though she’d kept it as brief as possible, Claire felt like she’d been talking for hours before finally getting to the Fallen and the deadly fights on Homecoming. So much more had happened since then, but other than mentioning her abduction, she figured that was enough for now. She’d better stop and let everything sink in.
Neil had done as she’d asked, listening while saying nothing. Now, he still seemed to be sticking to her request, and the suspense was killing her.
Still not looking at her, he withdrew the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his blazer and thrust it in her direction. Claire choked back a laugh/sob. It was such a nice gesture, that despite whatever dark thoughts might be swirling in his head, he would notice—and care—how much she needed it. She unfolded the handkerchief and gratefully used it to blow her nose.
“So …” Neil began finally, staring at his shoes, “you’re half angel, have two psychic powers, and supposedly no right to exist.”
“Yes,” she answered quietly, grateful that his tone wasn’t mocking.
“Alec is an angel assassin,” Neil went on. “He’s over a hundred years old, but pretending to be a junior in high school. Your grandmother’s on the board of directors of some angel society who are involved in a secret war with the part-angel-mafia-spies, who also recently kidnapped you. And last year, you were almost killed by a werewolf—”
“Were-cougar,” she corrected, then instantly regretted it, because his eyes darted up to hers with detached disbelief and a hint of disgust.
“Claire, you just recapped the plots of every bad movie I’ve ever seen, all rolled into one.”
Claire’s shoulders drooped, fresh tears stinging her eyes. “I knew it was a long shot that you’d believe any of this. But I had to try.”
Neil shook his head. “I’m sorry, but how do you expect—”
At that moment, a sliding glass door roared open. Alec staggered out and, without a word, grabbed Neil by the lapels of his blazer and hauled him to his feet.
“Alec!” Claire leapt up, appalled.
Alec’s green eyes were cold as he yanked Neil’s face close to his. “Leave.”
Neil put up his hands. “Calm down, MacKenzie.”
“Let him go!” Claire cried. “We were just talking.”
“I noticed,” Alec spat out, his voice slightly slurred. “And I could tell where it was all leading.”
“It was leading to me leaving anyway,” Neil countered. Without warning, he brought one knee up hard into Alec’s crotch. Alec grunted, dropping to one knee.
As if he thought things were settled, Neil turned to walk away. But Alec instantly rallied and lunged, landing a fist in Neil’s kidneys. The blow sent Neil staggering forward.
Claire gasped. She knew how strong Alec was. A punch like that might have easily broken Neil’s back, or worse. Thankfully, as Neil turned back to face them in fury, he seemed only winded.
Before Neil could retaliate, Claire darted between them. “Stop it, Alec!”
Alec’s eyes burned with frustration, as if he were considering whether or not to shove her aside but decided against it. Instead, he telekinetically threw Neil into the air. Neil slammed against the nearby wall, where he remained, hovering a couple of feet above the ground, in Alec’s mental grip.
“Alec, please,” Claire cried, new tears starting to flow. But Alec wasn’t listening, his focus was all on Neil.
Neil, his face alive with terror and confusion, still hovered in the air not far from Alec’s splayed hand. “Holy shit,” he murmured.
Claire had to stop this, somehow. Bracing one leg next to Alec’s, she twisted her body, yanking him to the ground with one of the takedowns he’d taught her. As Alec’s focus broke, Neil dropped to the flagstones, knocking over a potted plant with a loud crash.
Claire hauled herself to her feet, staring down at Alec, who looked glassy-eyed and disoriented in a way she’d never seen before. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed.
“He’s been drinking,” croaked Neil as he struggled to stand, stunned, his blazer and jeans streaked with potting soil. “You can smell it on his breath.”
“Drinking?” Claire stared at Alec in shock and disappointment. First he was high on Valentine’s Day, and now this?
“I. I’m …” Alec began.
But he never got to finish. A cluster of people suddenly appeared at the open patio door. Erica shoved through them and strode outside, flanked by Gabrielle, Ashley, and Courtney. Neil, dazed and dirty, was leaning against the far wall, while Alec fumbled a bit unsteadily to his feet.
“What in the bejeesus is going on out here?” Erica asked.
“I have no idea,” Neil answered. Alec didn’t say a thing.
“Have you morons been fighting?” Erica prodded.
“It was just a misunderstanding,” Claire replied apologetically. “I think Alec got the wrong idea about.… Anyway, it’s over.”
“God, Claire, can’t the world turn for five minutes without being all about your drama?” Erica cried.
“I didn’t do anything,” Claire countered.
“Really?” Erica laughed bitterly. “First, you drag me away from my friends and unload all this bullshit on me. Then your little love triangle starts dueling at my house?”
“Hold on a second—” began Neil, but Erica was on a roll.
“You ruined the play for me, and now, when I’m trying to have just one night that’s for me, you’re ruining that, too.”
Claire swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to take the part from you, Erica.”
“I don’t believe that anymore.” Erica strode forward, and said under her breath, “I used to think you got Guinevere based on your … talent for singin
g. But that thing you told me earlier? Now I know how you stole my part.”
Claire was stunned. Did Erica just accuse her of brainwashing her way into the play? “Wait,” Claire started, knowing she had to be careful what she said, with all these people listening.
Gabrielle inserted herself into the scene. “Don’t.” She pointed toward the door. “We’re here to celebrate Erica, okay? Just go home. All three of you.”
The I can handle this myself look on Erica’s face showed she was a little peeved that Gabrielle was getting involved but letting it slide.
Everyone was silent in collective embarrassment, until Neil—after glancing at Claire and Alec—turned to Gabrielle and Erica, and said, “Whatever. Happy birthday, Fisher.” He pushed through the crowd and left.
Alec followed. Erica stalked into the house, the crowd at her heels.
Claire stood there on the patio, the sound of rainfall echoing around her, feeling more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.
thirty-one
To say Claire was miserable would be the understatement of the year.
Alec couldn’t look her in the eye, not that she wanted him to. Neil was more standoffish than ever, treating both her and Alec like they were freaks. Which they were. Claire could only hope he wouldn’t tell anyone.
Erica, meanwhile, was acting more like Claire didn’t exist than ever. At times, Ms. Donnelly would ask Claire to sit out a scene, so Erica could have a chance to run through it as Guinevere. Erica was excellent in the part, which only increased Claire’s inner turmoil. She had to admit, Erica was partially right. Although brainwashing had nothing to do with it, Claire had gotten the role because of her Halfblood singing abilities. Before she’d awakened, Claire hadn’t been able to sing to save her life.
Claire kept hoping Helena would turn up some exciting discovery about her father, to give her something positive to focus on, but that hadn’t happened. So it was just schoolwork and rehearsal, barely speaking to anyone.