“Snowboarding?” she says, flashing us an impish grin. “There are a bunch of small hills with ski lifts in this general area that do midnight runs on New Year’s Eve. I’m sure there is something going on at one of them where we could either ski or board until sometime around midnight, and then head in to the chalet for a midnight toast,” she says, smiling as she watches Zephyr’s face light up.
“That is my girl!” Zephyr says possessively, scooping Buns up off of her seat and twirling her around so fast they become just an impression for a moment until he sets her back on her feet.
“It’s off the chain, right, sweetie?” Buns asks, turning to me, “What do you think?”
“Sounds amazing,” I reply.
“You are truly a force of nature, Buns.” Reed agrees, leaning forward and kissing Buns on the forehead, which makes her smile deepen. “Let’s decide on the resort we are going to go to so that Zephyr and I can get some satellite shots of it, for strategy. Then, we will plan our assault on the slopes.”
I try to keep my face as neutral as possible and not let them see that there is a war going on inside of me. One side is rejoicing at the prospect of getting out of the house and living again; the other side of me is scared to death of what might happen once I leave the house. My heart must have given me away because Reed pulls me into his arms. Hugging me, he says, “It will be okay. Nothing will touch you.” He presses his cheek to mine and the heat we generate is intoxicating.
“I’m looking forward to boarding. I can’t wait to see how angels can slay a mountain,” I whisper in his ear, letting my cheek brush over his in a caress.
“I was created to slay,” Reed replies with a smile that almost stops my heart.
“I found it!” Buns’s tone is smug as she swivels in her chair to face us. “It’s a five star resort a few hours north of here. It says they’re booked for the holiday, but we know what that means,” Buns laughs, swiveling back.
I glance at Reed’s face, then Zephyr’s; they both do seem to know what she means by that. “I’m sorry, Buns, does that mean we can’t go?” I ask in confusion.
“No, sweetie, of course not. That just means they only have the really killa suites left for the VIPs.”
“Oh—are we VIPs?” I ask, trying not to sound ignorant. This makes Zephyr laugh like I have made a joke. His eyes sparkle at me like he is waiting for me to say something else amusing.
Buns smirks, too, and replies, “You know it. Reed, get her a black card.”
“Already done. She just hasn’t been anywhere to use it,” Reed replies.
“What are you talking about?” I ask in suspicion. I think I might know what it is they are saying, because I’ve seen the black credit card Buns uses to burn through cash like she printed the benjamins herself.
“I have a card for you. I don’t plan on us separating anytime soon, but you can carry it and use it however you would like,” Reed says, and frowns as he watches my mouth drop open. “What did I say?”
“I can’t take your money,” I reply, watching his face get darker.
“Why not?” Reed asks in confusion.
“Because it’s not right,” I reply.
“Why is it wrong?” he asks.
“Because it’s yours,” I reply evasively. Does he really not get that taking his money is completely grody?
“But, when I give it to you, then it is yours,” he says, smiling at me because he thinks what he is saying is logical.
“Buns, you get why I can’t take his money, right?” I ask, looking for help.
“No…it’s just money,” she shrugs, and I’m beginning to believe they are printing it somewhere.
“I have my own money, Reed, but thanks,” I say in embarrassment.
“Evie, you have a few thousand dollars—that is not money, that is…” he trails off when he sees me duck my head to hide my deepening blush of mortification. My house is for sale, but no one seems interested in it, since the previous owner was viciously murdered in it. Most of our things have been removed and put into storage, for which I will need to reimburse Reed when the house is sold. Although, I don’t think he’s going to let me. The funeral arrangements for my uncle had probably cost a lot, too, but no one will tell me who paid for it, or how much it cost. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Reed asks, trying to make eye contact with me.
“No…I just have to start looking into Internet gambling and see if I can beat the odds,” I reply, since there is not a lot I can do right now to earn money. Having a homicidal angel, like Alfred, bent on beating the soul out of me is seriously hurting my chances of getting and maintaining gainful employment.
“Evie, we can consider all of this a loan, if it makes you feel better, and you can pay me back later,” he says, holding up my chin and looking into my eyes.
“When am I going to be able to pay you back, sugar daddy?” I ask him in a worried tone.
I watch the way his sensual lips curve cunningly as he tries not to smile. He notices I am not smiling, so he says, “Let me take care of you. It’s all I want to do.”
I sigh. “I’ve no choice right now but to rely on you for help, but I’m not taking the credit card,” I say firmly.
“Evie,” Reed’s tone is cajoling.
“Reed,” I say, as I dig in.
“What’s a sugar daddy?” Reed asks me, and then laughs when he sees my blush deepen. “That bad, huh?” he asks.
“Yeah, that bad.” I reply. “When are we leaving, Buns?” I ask to try to change the subject away from my waifish existence.
“I’m going to call them and make the arrangements. How long do you two need to plot and scheme?” Buns asks Zephyr and Reed.
“A couple of hours. We’ll be ready by tonight.” Zephyr replies and Reed nods.
“Sick! We can go tonight and be on the slopes after breakfast tomorrow,” she says happily, and then she jets out of the room in an eighth of a second to get her phone and make the arrangements.
“I’ll go pack.” I say, feeling the mixture of excitement and dread again. I speed to my room in seconds so that they will all think I am just excited.
Alone in my room, I go to my closet to get my suitcase. As I pull it down from the top shelf, a box that had been partially hidden falls down with it. Kneeling on the ground to retrieve the box, I freeze. It is a wooden box with dragonflies encrusted on its lid. Someone must have gotten it from my dorm room when they had brought over my things. My hand shakes as I reach for it.
My touch is light as my fingertips brush over the wood, feeling the intricately carved images covering the surface. Freddie gave me this for my birthday, I think as I lift my fingertips from the box as if I have been scalded by it. He had been telling me what he is with his gift, only I hadn’t realized it at the time. He is a fallen Reaper angel with iridescent wings that resemble a dragonfly, not unlike the ones depicted here. I shudder as I recall touching his paper-like wings that had buzzed and vibrated in agitation.
I’m so stupid. How could I have let this happen? Guilt and shame hit me. I open the lid to the box and see the small, silver makeup compact inside; on the lid is etched an ornate dragonfly with inlayed opals that comprise the torso of the dragonfly. The stones gleam evilly in the dim light of the closet.
I didn’t see what he was, and as a result, many people had suffered and died including my uncle, I think as my hands curl into fists. This gift is a physical representation of my stupidity. It is a reminder that I have to look at things differently from now on. I can’t afford to be stupid and naïve anymore or the ones I love will suffer for it. This is my bitter reality. I pick the compact up, hugging it to my body in despair. I can’t fail again because the price is too high.
Feeling the small latch on the compact beneath my fingertips, I flip the compact back over and look at it. Depressing the button, it opens with a soft click, dispelling a small gasp of air that was trapped inside. I raise the lid, revealing the mirror. For an instant, all I can see are my eyes looking back at me.
I look haunted: deadened by the thing I hold in my hand. But then a movement in the mirror distracts me from the image of myself. It startles me, so I look behind me to see what could possibly have moved. There is nothing there. I peer in the mirror once again, noticing that the image of me is murkier, less crisp.
Something moves in the mirror that is not a reflection; a truly distorted and shadowy shape shifts within the glass. The longer I watch it, the closer it seems to be coming and the more it takes on a definite form…as if a shadow is running toward me down a long corridor within the mirror that is in no way a reflection of any room I have seen in this house. But, it isn’t just a shadow, it’s a swarm of flies all working together to form the shape of a man.
Coming to my senses in the next instant, I try to snap the lid of the compact shut, but it is levered open and refuses to close. Tossing the compact away from me, it crashes to the floor. Hissing emits from the mirror, casting a stench in the air that I had prayed I would never smell again. Black clouds of flies come pouring out into the air, billowing from the mirror to sway and undulate grotesquely until their dark mass implodes into a single image of a man—a shadow man. He is like the one I had seen in Coldwater with Freddie. It only takes the shadow man a fraction of a second to grin at me evilly before he lunges forward to kill me.
CHAPTER 2
Road Trip
Only the blink of an eye exists to assess the danger of the shadow man. As he stands in front of me, his lurid form moves and shifts as the dark, disjointed spirit crests and swirls around him. The shadowy entity is almost like a lover embracing the demonic man. Feeling paralyzed by its presence, I fail to evade his attack. He catches me by my throat, picking me up off my feet. His steely grip probably would’ve crushed me just weeks ago, but I have evolved since then; I am harder to kill now. The demon realizes this; irritation flickers across his face as he brings his other hand up to apply more pressure. Black spots dance in my vision and my eyes dart around the room, looking for a means of gaining my release.
Buzzing registers in my consciousness, and at first I think it must be a result of having the life choked out of me. But as my eyes dart away from the evil grinning creature suffocating me, I see that my bedroom window is covered on the outside in dragonflies. The dragonflies form a dark silhouette of a man, which then morphs into an image I know quite well. It’s Alfred and he is hovering just outside my room. His iridescent, bluish-green wings are beating rapidly to sustain his elevation. As he observes the scene inside my room, his mouth turns up with a grin of satisfaction.
My feet dance drunkenly beneath me while I bring my own hands to my throat. I tear at the shadow man’s hands, trying to utter the name that I am screaming over and over in my mind. Reed. Panic makes my legs swing out further, trying to kick the monster in front of me. Baring his teeth in a feral growl, the shadow man cringes when I kick him as hard as I can. That is all it will take and I know it. The shadow man just sealed its fate with that one tiny sound.
In an instant my door crashes in, and before it has time to ricochet off the wall, I am released from the strangle hold that had me dangling in midair. Dropping to the ground, the body of the shadow man, along with his shadow is propelled backward away from me. I take the first gasping breath of air, feeling it burn a path to my lungs because the shadow man’s putrid odor permeates the room. Reed’s charcoal-colored wings spread wide as he hurls the demon out into the hallway, where Zephyr catches it. The grotesque popping and tearing sounds of the shadow man being torn to shreds by Zephyr become softer as it is carried further and further away from my door. In the next instant, Reed has me in his arms.
“Al-Fred,” I wheeze, trying to tell him that Alfred is outside my window. I turn to look at it and point, but Alfred is no longer there at the window. The coward ran away again when he saw the Powers enter the room to save me.
“Evie, are you hurt?” Reed asks in an anxious tone while scanning me for possible injuries. I shake my head no, coughing as I try to inhale too much air and have it forced back out.
“No,” I croak feebly as Reed holds my chin gently in his hand. Tipping it up, he assesses my neck, touching the bruises that I’m sure are going to be ugly for a couple of hours until I heal.
“I don’t know how it got in, Evie. Zephyr and I didn’t know it was here. It shouldn’t have been able to get past us,” Reed tries to explain to me through clenching teeth. He presses my face into his bare chest. I hear the powerful drumming of his heart as it pounds against his chest and his wings twitch in agitation.
“Alfred’s here, too,” I say with a raspy voice, pointing again to the window.
In seconds I am swept up and deposited in the adjoining bathroom with the door firmly closed to my room. Alone, I face the vanity mirror. The shadow man has, indeed, left his mark on me—big black inky bruises that aren’t turning purple, yet. I walk to the mirror and am startled by my eyes. They are red with the blood of broken capillaries where they should be white. A monster from a horror flick looks less freakish than I do at the moment, especially since my crimson wings had sprung out of my back at some point during my struggle. They’re hanging limply at my sides, protesting the abuse I had just sustained.
The bathroom door swings open and I jump in fear. Buns is at my side in seconds, hugging me to her. “Sweetie, what happened?” she asks. Pulling back from me, her eyes zero in on my neck. She bites her lip as her brows draw together in a scowl. “How?” she asks with menace.
“Shadow man tried to strangle me,” I reply.
“What’s a shadow man? I didn’t hear it. I didn’t see it. How did it get in?” she asks me in an angry tone as she gently pets my hair.
“Possessed soul, it came in through my compact,” I reply, turning back toward the sink to fill the glass on the counter with water. I take a small sip of it, attempting to soothe my throat that now burns with a raw heat. “Where did Reed and Zee go?” I ask her sluggishly. I’m having a hard time orienting myself to the reality of the situation.
“They flew out the door a second ago like they’re chasing the hounds of Sheol. Are they?” she asks me. She runs a washcloth under the faucet, and then presses it to my throat.
“Alfred… at the window. He was probably waiting for my soul to leave my body so that he could reap it,” I explain with brevity, feeling the cool cloth ease the ache in my neck.
“Alfred!” Buns hisses while her golden butterfly wings fly out of her back to float effortlessly behind her. She looks like a fairy queen, pacing the bathroom in agitation. “Alfred wouldn’t have let it kill you. He probably wanted it to mostly kill you, so that he could then convince you to give him your soul. I don’t think he can take it without you giving him permission,” she says. “I hope they crush him. He’s so getting on my last nerve. You said the possessed one came in through your compact? What did you mean by that?”
“The compact, it’s in my room. I dropped the mirror on the floor when I saw that thing running toward me in the glass. I couldn’t get the lid shut again because it just wouldn’t close,” I say in exasperation. “And then, it was in my room and it grabbed me by the throat so I couldn’t scream.” The numbness of my shock is wearing off. My hands shake and I cross my arms in front of me to stop the trembling. Buns disappears for a second, leaving the bathroom door open, and then returns with the compact in her hand with the lid firmly shut.
“Oh, he’s so done when I get my hands on him. I don’t enjoy killing; Brownie and I consider it beneath us. I go out of my way to avoid it, but it’d be an honor to make him cease to be,” she says as she resumes her pacing.
“I don’t want you to do that. Just stay away from him. He’s really twisted and evil. I don’t want him getting his hands on you,” I say, imagining Alfred tearing the golden wings off of Buns’s back.
Buns rolls her eyes. “Please…Alfred,” Buns scoffs at me. “Evie, he’s a cretin. I can seriously kick his butt. That’s why he keeps getting others to be the heavy, because he’s weak and
very lame,” she finishes with the kind of confidence that makes me want to believe her, even as the memory of Alfred plunging his knife into Russell flashes in my mind and I shudder in revulsion.
“I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt, Buns,” I say, feeling something twist inside me at the thought.
“Sweetie, Alfred can try if he wants, but that’d be opening a whole new level of pain for him,” Buns replies with confidence. “Now, did Alfred give you anything else—like jewelry, perfume, or anything edible?” she asks.
I frown, thinking. “There is just the wooden box that the compact came in. It’s in my closet,” I say. She is gone again before I have time to blink. When she steps back into the bathroom, she has the box with her. “What is it?” I ask, because I know now what it’s not—it is not a gift; it is a Trojan horse.
“It’s a lot of things, but mainly it’s a portal.” I must look confused because she continues to explain, “It’s like a doorway. When you opened the lid, it opened a conduit, like a tunnel, to whoever has the mate to this gateway. Alfred must’ve given the other compact to the possessed one who watched it, waiting for it to open. When it reached the threshold here, it popped out, and well, you were there for that part,” she says, touching my neck. “Some demons use them for escaping Powers. They leave one open in a safe haven, and then carry the other around. If they come across danger, they pop in the channel and go to their safe place. When they get there, they destroy the portal before anything can follow them.”
“How does someone enter a mirror, especially one this small?” I ask in confusion.
“Transfiguration,” she replies casually.
“Uh huh,” I say dully. “You shapeshift?” I ask for clarity.
“Yeah,” she smiles at me.
“You can do that?” I accuse her, and watch her nod her head. “Show me,” I demand, putting my hands on my hips because everyone is holding out on me.
She shrugs and says, “Okay.”
She heads over to the counter and sets the compact and box on it. Turning back to me, she gives me a bright smile as her body begins to shimmer in the light. Within seconds, she explodes before my eyes into a swarm of beautiful golden butterflies, leaving her clothing in a pile on the floor where she had been standing. The butterflies circle and flutter around the bathroom, in no particular pattern, as butterflies will. Then, they all meet up again to form the silhouette that resembles my friend, and like an implosion, Buns is back in her normal form in front of me.
Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 2