by Amber Lynn
“And you wonder why none of the other students have warmed up to you,” Michael says.
He’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. The thick glasses he always wears to school are back, which is a little disappointing. I don’t mind the sloppy hairstyle he’s got going on, but the glasses obscure his eyes. Let’s pretend that I’m not currently thinking those are his best features.
“Well, yours aren’t too shabby either, but they currently spell nothing but trouble.”
Darn. Pretending I’m not thinking something doesn’t make it somehow muted in my mind. I wasn’t holding my breath that it would, but I thought it was worth a try.
Michael laughs, maybe a little deeper than usual. I guess I haven’t heard him laugh much. I am guessing he’s finding my train of thought amusing, which accounts for probably sixty-five percent of those trains.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t come to school too?” Ophelia asks.
I wasn’t aware that was an option, but I’m definitely in the no-way-in-hell column there. It couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes last night and she’d worked the phrase “stay where I can see you” in twice. I don’t want to know what would happen if she sat in the back of my classes all day.
“I think I’ve proven that when it comes to protection, I can handle things. You showing up would only make it more obvious.”
Definite agreement from me on the latter part of Michael’s statement. I think the verdict is still out on the first. He’s proven what I always assumed about his strength versus Mr. Hamilton and even my mom, but I don’t know what this angel squad he brought up yesterday is made of. If they have a bunch of operatives in town, I might as well start planning my funeral.
“Speaking of them. Just so we’re clear,” Michael says as he takes my hand. “During our dance, I asked you out, and surprise, you said yes. That’s why we’re going to be glued at the hip anytime we’re not in separate classes.”
We’re going to have to see about that. I glare down at our attached hands. His touch yet again sparked me, and I have to wonder if he feels the same thing on his side. Or with other people. Maybe his angel power is just so supercharged that he can’t help zap people when he touches them.
We’ve never had skin-on-skin contact for more than a couple seconds, so I’m not expecting the warmth that radiates up my arm and through my body. It’s not just a slight heat. I can feel power flowing from him into me.
I don’t pay close attention to him at school, but how in the world do other people he touches not react to it? I want to start skipping and zapping energy out just to feel a release of it.
“First, it’s just you, which we’ll discuss on the drive. Second, can we please get out of here?”
I guess Michael is tired of the scowls and little pulses of power Ophelia keeps sending his way. Or maybe he just wants to end the hand-holding by getting in the car quickly. Either way, I’m game to see what trouble I can get in today.
Chapter Thirty
“This is your car?” I ask.
There are a few cars parked on the street, so I wasn’t sure which one we were going to. I don’t see a reason for someone else to be parked directly in front of my house, but I didn’t think the black sports car with doors I know open up instead of out was his. It matches the slicked-back hair and black suit he was in last night, but not the glasses and pocket protector look he’s got going on for school.
I’m also pretty sure I would have noticed this baby sitting in the parking lot at school.
“The good news is that no one else sees it for what it is. I bought it when I turned fifteen hundred and was living in Monaco. It’s not exactly Newberry style, so I mask it to look like any other car.”
“So, like before today, I couldn’t see this?”
I’m a little confused. Did he just bring it out today? And that’s why I’ve never seen it.
Also, did he really just say he was over fifteen hundred? The car is a few years old, and if I’m right about my Italian sports cars, there are very few of them on the road. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the only one in America – North or South.
“I’m letting you see it, not that I’d be able to stop you once your new powers finish booting up.”
He hits a button on a remote and the door closest to me pops open. Pop isn’t the right word. It gracefully ascends to the heavens. Yeah, I’m feeling a little giddy about being able to ride in the car. I can already smell the Italian leather.
I crawl into the car. The crawling is necessary because the car practically touches the ground. The feel of the cushy leather under my fingers is totally worth it.
“Watch your knees and try not to make out with the seat.”
I narrow my eyes but move my knees to clear the door. Just because I like the touch of fine leather doesn’t mean it turns me on.
“Keep in mind it’s not just thoughts, but emotions and the whole gamut of you that I pick up.”
He elects to slide in instead of crawl and starts the car. I’ve turned in my seat, so I can adequately glare at him. I’m aware that there is a whole lot of glaring, scowling and general stink eyes in my world, but I’m sure they’re all necessary.
“And you’re going to spend the ten-minute ride to school explaining that.”
I could make it a question, but at this point, it’s a demand. He’s decided we’re fake boyfriend and girlfriend, something I very much plan to circle back to and contest, so I think it’s time he starts answering questions.
As he pulls away from the curb, a small groan escapes him. I don’t think he knows what he signed up for with this plan of his. Even scarier than that thought, I don’t know what in the world I’m doing going along with things. I should be running in the other direction from an angel who claims he wants to help me.
“The problem with that is no one else can even begin to protect you from what’s out there.”
“And the problem with that is that I’m still not sure this scary threat is out there.”
We’re getting away from the question at hand, and I’m not sure if that’s his fault or mine. He keeps responding to my thoughts. By know we both now those don’t make a lick of sense.
“I explained last night the specific threat I’m worried about, but it’s not just a group of angels. There’s no easy way to say it. Life as a truthseer sucks.”
“Not to mention it’s short.”
I want to do some independent research on all topics concerning truthseers. The only problem with that is I doubt there’s anything out there I can get my hands on.
“My goal is to buck that trend. Truthseers are one of the most important beings ever created, yet no one appreciates what they could do for the world.”
“That’s all nice and good, but until someone tries to kill me, I’m not sure I feel like changing things up to have a bodyguard.”
“And I’m not sure I gave you that option. You’re not denying you’re a truthseer anymore. Does that mean you’ve at least come to terms with that much?”
Have I? That’s a good question. I’m afraid to look in the mirror, so I suppose I’ve accepted something. I don’t know that the truthseer concept is the only explanation. I’m almost positive I’ve at least thought that before, so he should already know that. That is, if he listens to my thoughts all the time like the psycho stalker I’ve decided he is.
“Fine. You want some proof. What’s the basic thing a truthseer can do?”
Is that a trick question? It’s got to be.
“No, it’s not a trick. I’m glad you’re this untrustworthy with people, but you really need to lower your walls for me. And I’ll give you a reason why. The obvious answer to the question is that they can tell when someone is lying. I’ll say three different things, and you tell me which one of them is a lie.”
I feel like I should be suspicious of the game. He’s talking about me lowering walls, which is completely insane given what everyone is telling me.
“Not you
r protection walls. Just your pessimistic ones. Concentrate on my words. Watch them come out of my lips and feel whether they’re the truth. Okay?”
Should I be worried he’s spent more time looking at me than at the road. We’re almost to school, so the whole idea of me getting answers during the drive seems to be going up in smoke.
That being said, or thought, I nod my head. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything different when someone lies to me, even when I know a person is lying.
“Good. First statement. I will protect you with my life.”
As instructed, I watch the words come out of his mouth and try to feel them. The actions are exactly as stupid as they sound. Watching his thin lips move as he speaks has no effect on me as far as I can tell.
“Number two. It took every ounce of my power to not lean down and kiss you last night while we danced.”
That admission makes me smile. I’m going with it being an involuntary action. It doesn’t help that his tongue sneaks out of his mouth and licks his lips after the words are out.
Still, I feel nothing that would indicate it is a lie. If it’s not, it has to be a big stretch of the truth. Michael has shown at least some of his power, and there is no way he had to use all of it to keep from kissing me.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” His eyebrows raise in a flirty motion before he lets out a deep sigh. “Final statement. I’m happy that you and Ian have been spending so much time together.”
My hand instantly goes up to my throat. Something itches to the point it hurts. I cough to clear my throat, but it only irritates it.
“And we have a winner. You’re going to have to learn to hide that reaction, though. Right now, you still have to concentrate for it to work, but that’s not going to be the case much longer.”
He’s pulling into the parking lot, which apparently takes more of his attention than driving down the road. It feels like this is the first time he hasn’t had his eyes glued to me. I’m happy with the reprieve, since I’m busy trying to figure out what just happened.
“While you work on that, we could have had the talk about our private conversations anytime, since they are very much private, but I wanted to be alone for it,” he says.
After he puts the car in park, and turns it off, he rotates so he’s facing me. I almost tell him to let the car run a little longer, because I’m not done listening to it purr, but we’re finally getting to the conversation we were supposed to be having. If nothing else, it will help me not think about the two items he said that are supposedly true.
“I said last night that I’m your guardian angel. Obviously, that’s a new concept for you, much like everything else going on in your life right now. But, I’ll tell you how that came to be and what it means.”
“Are you going to be able to do that in the two minutes we have before first class?”
I hate to bring it up, but it is a fact of life. I wouldn’t want people to think I’m corrupting the golden boy of the school.
“I’m sure you’ll live if you’re a little late to Etiquette. And you have to admit you’ve been trying to figure out a way to get out of the class.”
There’s no need for me to admit anything. He knows it’s my least favorite class.
“Just spill what you’ve got to say. Maybe it will help me decide whether I’m going to go along with the ruse you have planned.”
Rather than immediately speak, he reaches over and brushes his finger against the skin on top of my hand. I pull back from the electricity. I don’t need whatever that is right now. He doesn’t pursue, and I don’t get the sense he wants to. I’m not sure if he’s reminding me or himself that the touch isn’t normal.
“A little over a century ago, I committed myself to a group that has been protecting your family for centuries. Since then, I’ve been trying to find you, but your mother has been surprisingly good at hiding you, and your trips to the Council. I knew about your temper issues and actually spent a few decades serving coffee in that little shop next to the Council building in Spokane, hoping to catch you.”
“The Last Bean?”
“That’s the one. Anyway, when an angel commits to protect someone, it’s more than a promise. It creates a bond between the angel and their charge. That’s why I can talk to you without others knowing and hear everything. If I’m going to protect you, I’ve got to know everything.”
I admire his dedication to his cause if he really worked at that horrible coffee shop for that long, but I still can’t get behind me being an open book. A girl needs her privacy.
“And what about the sparks and other stuff. How does it help you protect me?”
He smiles and opens his door. I feel warm air from outside behind me as mine opens too.
“I think you’re the one who said we shouldn’t be late to class. We should probably head inside.”
Evidently, I don’t get a say in that. He’s out of the car and his door is shut before I can open my mouth. Angel boy obviously didn’t do enough research on me if he thinks that’s the end of this conversation.
Chapter Thirty-one
We’ve established that I don’t feel the same burning sensation when everyone other than Michael looks at me. Like the sparking thing, that seems to be something we’re not discussing yet.
Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that it’s impossible not to feel the daggers flying in my direction as we ascend the stairs to school. Ian’s waiting at the top of those stairs, and the look on his face tells me he’s not happy about my ride to school. And I doubt he’s seeing the car I see. If he was able to see the little rearing horse on the hood of the car, I imagine the look would be even deadlier.
At least Michael isn’t doing the hand-holding thing. Our arrival can easily be explained as a friend giving another friend a ride to school.
“Not now, Ian,” Michael says.
He keeps walking, but I stop to see how Ian’s doing. The last I saw him, I think his mind had cleared up, but last night was overall weird.
“At least you can look at me,” he whispers.
With magic, I can easily kick myself, which is what I really want to do right now. I don’t, but I deserve it.
I walked up to school like it was any other day, not bothering to stare at my feet. Looking over to Michael, who’s stopped a few feet away, he smiles. I guess that means he’s doing something to help my eye problems.
“Yeah, we really shouldn’t talk about that here. Maybe at lunch we can get away, so I can explain things,” I say.
That would mean I’d have to understand them myself, which is a long shot. A throat clearing from Michael’s direction warns of another kind of problem with the idea, but I roll my eyes and ignore him.
“Can we go to my spot?” Ian asks. “I’ve got some news of my own.”
The anger from him seems to be gone, and his usual happy-go-lucky tone has returned. I’m not sure if it’s a cover, but it’s best for all of us if he tries to act normal. One of us should, and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be me.
I look over to Michael to see what he thinks of the request. From how our discussions have gone, I really don’t need to look to get confirmation that he hates the idea. Reaching out, I feel that the missing Angelica I noticed last night isn’t in place, so the angel isn’t going to be able to stop me from going on a quick trip. I could probably even teleport around from inside the school now.
“It was removed to let your mom offer more protection last night. Not so you could run off to a faery mound for lunch.”
That’s just silly. He’s gone on and on about how he’s a big bad angel here to protect me. Why would he do a little landscaping to give Ophelia some extra power?
“Because if she didn’t have it, she’d make a scene. Can we get inside, or are we going to stand out here debating all day?”
I’m taking that as a rhetorical question, because there’s no way he’s honest about giving me that option. He didn’t say it as a statement, otherwise I would have been a
ble to test my throat tickle. Hmm. I wonder if it still works when he’s doing the brain communication thing. We might have to do some testing on that.
All this little talk between Michael and I has only taken a few seconds, but it still might look weird to the casual observer that I’m waiting so long to respond to Ian’s question. Acting natural is hard when you’ve got someone whispering in your head and trying to catch you on fire with his eyes.
“We can try. I should probably warn you that there’s a good chance the conversation won’t be private.”
“I’ve figured out that they never are. So, is he a permanent fixture?”
Ian steps out of the way and turns to stand beside me so we can walk into school. Michael is quick to grab my hand on the other side and squeeze. I’m able to not react, surprise. I don’t even try to yank my hand away. The whole power warmth I feel from him makes the initial shock not so bad.
“How permanent is any high school romance?” I ask.
“I thought you guys were going to talk about this later,” Michael says as he clears his throat.
“Really?” I ask, looking out the corner of my eye at him. “I thought the conversation for later was about something else. I’m pretty sure the fact that you’re holding my hand is something I should be open about talking to my best friend.”
I totally get the keep the truthseer talk to nothing at school idea. Technically, if he’s worried about it, he should just throw me in whatever protection bubble he had to have done at the dance. I don’t doubt that he already has. He’s been watching me enough to know there’s a good chance I’m going to screw that up.
What is impossible not to discuss and at least explain on some scale, is the fact that he wants to play boyfriend and girlfriend. I know for a fact Ian isn’t going to be happy about that and making sure he doesn’t blow a gasket from the surprise is my goal.
Michael’s reaction to the best friend comment is almost as bad as Ian seeing us arrive together. These two. I shake my head thinking about how unbalanced both of them are.