THE TRAGIC + DIVINE

by MELODY FELIX-PRIETO

  “There’s a risk with anything you do that’s illegal. I’ve been lucky so far.”

  “If this stuff really gets you so high, why aren’t people going around killing angels for it?”

  Julian scoffed. “Probably ‘cause no one knows how to kill an angel.”

  Angel’s Ash. Who was the mastermind behind the wonder drug? Who would go to great lengths to kill an angel just to sell its ashes?

  We spent the rest of the night watching rom-com’s and eating popcorn. I told Julian about the garage door, Dylan cheating on Dawn—a subject he advised me to stay quiet about on account Dawn probably wouldn’t believe me, I told him about Milo and Stone Mountain.

  After Julian fell asleep, I tossed and turned on the bed thinking about my sister. I found myself wondering who Priscilla’s angel boyfriend could be. Was it Eli? Maybe. Dylan, definitely not. Priscilla wasn’t into arrogant fucktards. Lee, Trent? Milo? The thought depressed me. Julian’s cell phone suddenly went off blaring a Rihanna song.

  “S.O.S. please someone help me…”

  Who could be calling this late?, I thought. I looked down at Julian who was sleeping on the floor next to me, he had on a satin sleeping mask embroidered with a pair of lashes.

  “Julian,” I whispered as I tapped him on the shoulder but got a snoring reply. He took melatonin before going to bed, he was completely knocked out.

  The phone kept blaring and I had a feeling it was his drug dealer. I sank back into bed covering my ears to muffle the ringtone.

  “S.O.S. please someone help me…”

  For some reason, the strange familiar rhythmic sound from earlier came to mind…beep, beep, beep—beeep, beeep, beeep—beep, beep, beep.

  Where had I heard it before?

  I sat up straight when it hit me. I grabbed Julian’s cell phone from the bedside table, punched in Julian’s password, which was the last four of his social, and Googled S.O.S. The first result that popped up was a brief summary of its meaning:

  S.O.S. is the international distress signal for help transmitted in Morse code characterized by a sequence of three short clicks to represent the letter S, and three long clicks to represent the letter O.

  My face went pale. Priscilla was asking for my help, and I was too stupid to recognize it. Was she in danger? I tried to convince myself Priscilla was fine, I mean, she went this long without showing up in a body bag. What sort of danger could she possibly be in? My thoughts danced to the rhythm of the S.O.S. message. I knew I was lying to myself. Something didn’t feel right. Something in her rushed tone told me otherwise.

  I got out of bed careful not to step on Julian who was dead asleep on the floor surrounded by pillows. I tip-toed out the front door, grabbed the walkie out of my car, then sat in an old wicker chair on the porch.

  I stared at the walkie for a few minutes, sitting alone with only the chirping of crickets to occupy my thoughts. What would I say to Milo if he answered my call? Would he be awake this late at night? It was way past midnight. Turning the power dial on, the loud crackle of static made me jump. What do I even say into the walkie? I didn’t know walkie lingo. Pushing the talk button, I said a lame ‘hello,’ and waited.

  Nothing happened.

  I pushed the button again, “I know you’re there.”

  After a few minutes of silence, I tried one last time, “Hello? Can anybody hear me?”

  This is so stupid. Irritated and losing my patience, I tossed the walkie across the front yard. As the walkie hit the grass, I heard Milo’s voice.

  “Can’t stay away from this ‘pig’, uh?” I heard him smile.

  I cringed. Milo just had to rub it in, didn’t he?

  Turning around, I stomped over to the front lawn and picked up the walkie. Last night I told Milo to stay away from me. I hated that I was going back on my word. But I had to shove my pride aside. I had to talk to him, I needed to go back into his world to search for my sister because I knew deep in my gut she was there.

  “Can’t sleep,” I responded. “You’re the only person I know who’s up so late.”

  I felt like such a liar.

  “Excuses, excuses. Just admit it, you wanted to talk to me,” Milo said with skepticism.

  There was a tiny part of me that did want to talk to him, the other was determined to find Priscilla at all costs, but I wasn’t about to feed his ego.

  “So how was your night? Up partying all night, I bet?” I sat up crossing my legs.

  “Is that what you think I do?”

  “Yes. Tell me, how is your liver doing?” I asked my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “My liver is just fine. Thanks for asking. Our organs don’t deteriorate the way humans do.”

  “Must be nice,” I snorted. “You don’t have to worry about dying.”

  “Immortality is not as appealing as you may think.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I said walking back to the porch. “What is so bad about living forever?”

  There was a long pause before the walkie came back to life. “Death.”

  I frowned. “But you just said—”

  “Human death.”

  Milo was talking about the death of his human friends, human lovers perhaps? Girlfriends? I dropped my shoulders saddened by the thought.

  “You can feel emotions like us.” I stated.

  “And lust. Just in case you were curious.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” I shook my head. “This entire time I thought the angels were emotionless creatures who preyed on young women.”

  “We don’t prey on women. They look for us.”

  He had a valid point. “But you chase after them.”

  “Only the ones who are worth the chase.” I pressed my lips together my cheeks burning so hot, I thought I’d catch a fever. It was irritating how Milo always had a quick comeback for everything I said but even more annoying was the way my body reacted to his words.

  “Why do you do that?” I spat.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?” he said sounding innocent. Milo knew what he was doing, he knew he was getting a rise out of me, and he loved it.

  “Everything you say…you’re telling me things every girl wants to hear. I know they’re not true.”

  “I would never lie to you,” Milo said sounding like he meant it.

  “Can I ask you something…personal?”

  “How personal?” I could hear the smile return to his voice again.

  “Not that personal.”

  “It all…depends,” he said challengingly. “What do I get in return for answering?”

  “The peace of mind you’ve silenced the rumors?” I asked unsure.

  “No. That’s not what I want.”

  “What do you want?” I asked warily.

  “You know what I want.” There was heat in his voice as he spoke which only ignited the fire rising inside me I tried to extinguish earlier. Milo was playing a game of cat and mouse with me, but what he didn’t know; the mouse was far more intelligent than the cat. Tom and Jerry taught me that.

  “What if what you want is not an option?”

  “Then let’s discuss terms.” The conversation was heating way too fast, I had to change the subject.

  “So,” I began clearing my throat. “Uh, what were you doing before I called?”

  “Thinking about you.”

  “Oh?” My cheeks turned beet red. I should’ve changed the subject again, but I couldn’t help but play his stupid game. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

  “You. Me. Together. Shall I say more?”

  Alone. Together. The thought of being alone with Milo was equally frightening and intriguing. But I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to contain my hormones around him.

  “You owe me a bet,” he continued. “I’m ready to collect.”

  I laughed nervously. Thankfully, Milo couldn’t hear me.

  “Don’t be surprised if I show up unexpectedly on your balcony one day,” he said.

  I covered my fac
e repressing a smile. “Should I remind you, stalking is illegal?”

  “Stalking you is worth breaking the law.”

  Smooth freaking operator.

  “How about I pick you up Friday? Say around seven?”

  “Uh,” I began hesitantly.

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  “It’s not that. I just”—a fidgeted with my fingernails trying to let it out. “I don’t trust myself when I’m around you,” I whispered to the air without pushing the talk button.

  The plan, focus on the plan. I must find Priscilla. I cleared my throat again. “Friday is no good for me. I’m volunteering at the Dixon Fall Festival as a favor to a friend.”

  “Saturday then,” he countered.

  I paused for a second before answering. “Where would we go?”

  “Someplace where I can have you all to myself,” he replied with a provocative voice.

  The butterflies returned. And the nerves. I wished there was an easier way I could search for my sister, one that didn’t include Milo. I was heading down a dangerous road, and if I didn’t watch my step, I was afraid I would fall right into Milo’s trap.

  “What would we do?” I asked playing coy.

  “Things…”

  I suppressed a smile.

  “With one condition. Promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Oof, you’re killing me,” he blew out. “That’s going to be impossible.”

  “No deal then.”

  “Fine. I promise I will keep my hands to myself. However, I don’t think you will,” Milo warned.

  I laughed softly. Too easy. “Good night.”

  “Dream about me,” he whispered.

  I laughed again. “Highly doubtful.”

  And just like that, I was lured into Milo’s game. But I wasn’t going to let him catch me. I went back to bed thrilled and basking in my success. I’d secured an invitation back into Milo’s world and more than ever was determined to find my sister. As I placed my head on the pillow, I rubbed the heart-shaped pendant hanging around my neck. Right before I fell asleep, I finally took off the necklace Eddie gave me.

  CHAPTER

  17

  I had been parked in front of my house for several minutes. My head rested on the steering wheel, sweat building up on my forehead. I was dreading a confrontation. I wasn’t ready to face my mother just yet. I wanted to enjoy my last fleeting moments of freedom before she grounded me for not coming home last night or this morning. Instead, I’d gone straight to school with a massive knot tied to my stomach that refused to go away. I stared at my mother’s red Expedition sitting in the driveway, her version of the ‘mom’ van—she always said she’d die before getting an actual van. Paul’s truck wasn’t there, maybe it was in the garage, or perhaps he was gone never to come back? I hoped for the latter.

  Gathering the courage to face my mother, I stepped out of my car and made the long-dreaded walk to the front door dragging each foot slowly. This was it, goodbye world, goodbye freedom. When I walked through the door, my mother was running around the house dressed in her scrubs for work with a tote bag in hand. Relief washed over her face when she saw me.

  “Good your home.” She didn’t yell at me or curse. “They just called me from the hospital, they’re short staffed tonight, so I have to go in early. Make sure Isaac eats.”

  “Okay,” was all I managed to say as I watched her snatch her keys and grab her sweater from the coat rack then rush out the front door. What? No lecture? No screaming matches? Doors slamming?

  Behind me, I heard Isaac’s little voice. “She’s not mad at you.”

  I turned around to face him. He was dressed in jeans, his favorite shark t-shirt, blue sweater and held his backpack ready to go. They were probably headed to Isaac’s grandmother’s house across town and out in the boondocks who sometimes watched Isaac while I was working.

  “What happened after I left?”

  “They got in a fight,” he said sounding sad. “Dad didn’t come home last night.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be home later,” I let out a sigh. “I’m probably going to get it, uh?” I asked slumping against the wall.

  I knew my mother too well. She was the type who bottled all her anger inside carrying the weight for days until she was provoked. Flashbacks from Priscilla’s encounter with my mother suddenly flooded my mind. She came home way past curfew one night and found our mother patiently waiting for her in the living room. I was ten at the time, but I still vividly remember their argument. I’d tip-toed to the kitchen where I had a good view of the action. Priscilla told my mother she was in love and that there was nothing my mother could do to stop her from seeing her angel boyfriend. Then Priscilla dropped a bomb. She was pregnant. And she was keeping it. I’d never seen so much rage in my mother’s eyes. She was so angry, she smacked Priscilla across the face. The next day, Priscilla was gone.

  Isaac shrugged. A temporary relief eased the knot inside my stomach, but I wasn’t off the hook just yet.

  “Do you know if mother has a camera?”

  Isaac shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  I had a date with Milo Saturday, and I hoped he’d take me back to Stone Mountain so I could take pictures of the bathroom and the clearing where Savannah was getting initiated into their cult. I needed a camera. Where could I find one? My mother’s room.

  I didn’t want to go in there. Her bedroom was off-limits to Isaac and me. And to be honest, I was perfectly fine with that rule.

  The door creaked as I slowly opened it, the smell of rosemary swirled in the air. A straw broom hung by the door along the Victorian casing. The room was dark, the windows covered in heavy burgundy drapery, the walls were bare other than the ugly outdated pastel floral wallpaper. Turning the light on, I spotted her dresser by the fireplace and searched through her drawers for a camera but only found clothing, and random mail.

  “You’re gonna get in trouble,” Isaac said peeking his head inside. Even Isaac knew the rules perfectly well, he wouldn’t dare be caught dead inside my mother’s room without permission.

  “Who’s gonna tell her?” I glared at him. “Keep an eye out. Whistle if someone comes.”

  “No one is here. Mom went to work.”

  “Just keep an eye out!”

  “Fine,” he said hanging out by the door.

  I searched through the closet, under the bed but turned out empty handed. There had to be a camera somewhere, even if it was one of those old digital cameras from the early 2000s. My mother never threw anything away. She was a hoarder on steroids.

  There was one room I didn’t search, her bathroom. An orange glow coming from the window inside the bathroom spilled underneath the door, and I could have sworn I thought I saw a shadow behind the door. I reached for the doorknob, hesitant, unsure if I should search inside. I was afraid to go in there because she was there. The thing my mother worshipped. My belly twisted, my breathing became shallow. Nothing was going to happen. She wasn’t real. I told myself.

  As soon as I opened the door, I was hit with the pungent coppery smell of blood. I scrunched my nose and covered my mouth. Standing right in front of me, sitting on top of a wooden plank over the bathroom sink surrounded by different types of fresh flowers and white candles was the hooded skeletal figure clutching a scythe that resembled the grim reaper. La Santisima Muerte. The Saint of Death. The woman who starred in all my nightmares as a kid. The people who worshipped her believed she could bring healing, protection, and prosperity. I didn’t. Ever since my mother brought the statue back from Mexico, we’ve had nothing but bad luck.

  She was dressed in gold with different colored jewels around the trim of the hood. In the middle of the altar, a small cup was filled to the top with a thick red liquid I was very confident was the blood of a dead animal. To its right, a cup of water, to its left, a plate of bread.

  Three mason jars, similar to the one I’d found inside the refrigerator, were arranged in a circle over a plate of honey
. I picked one up examining the contents and squinted my eyes inside the jar to read the paper in the middle. My hands turned to ice. It was my name. I let go of the jar and watched it shatter all over the floor. White smoke sizzled from the water.

  The sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the hallway. I looked over my shoulder but Isaac wasn’t at the door anymore. Panic rose inside my throat as I quickly grabbed a towel from the rack then cleaned up the mess. I felt a sharp sting on my finger then blood oozed out. Tightening my hand into a fist, I closed the bathroom door behind me and made a quick dash for my bedroom at the back end of the house. When I reached the bottom of the stairway, I stopped to catch my breath. What was the liquid in the jar? But more importantly why was my name inside?

  The Dixon Fall Festival was held annually in downtown to raise money for the local schools. It was the only event happening, so the whole town was in attendance. Calliope music echoed throughout a lively and crowded Dixon. The local country band Dix—with their slogan, ‘We’re the Dix in Dixon!’ on the front of the bass drum—performed under the brightly lit Ferris wheel as small children ran around licking pastel colored cotton candy.

  The sun had just set leaving behind a sky bathed in vibrant hues of rose, purple and blue until darkness fell upon us. A cold chill swept over my booth, I wrapped my beige cable linen cardigan around my body hoping to keep out some of the cold. Tonight, I was in charge of the Kiss Booth; people had to guess the number of chocolate kisses inside the jar. The prize was a whopping forty dollar gift card from Amazon.

  Jane was in charge of the ring toss booth next to mine which was getting a lot more action, by far the most popular booth. I glanced over to her and smiled.

  “Great turnout!” she smiled back giving me the thumbs up.

  “What’s up, hood rat,” Julian said plopping his elbows over the table. “Here’s the camera you asked for. I haven’t used it in a while, but it works.”

  “Thank you,” I said taking the small camera stuffing it in my front pocket.