Instruments of the Angels (Hallows & Nephilim: Waters Dark and Deep #1)

by Monica Leonelle

  Rykken’s umber eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before he finally looked away as well.

  “You want to head to practice?” Pilot asked Rykken.

  Rykken gave a curt nod, turning away from them and heading back toward the school.

  Pilot put his hand on her shoulder. “Come find me at lunch,” he said. His eyes met hers for a second before he turned away as well, following after Rykken.

  They disappeared into the school, and Brie took a deep breath. She reviewed everything that was riding on her first day at DeRosa. Every time she had stepped outside their town home in New York, the paparazzi had found a reason to write a story about her. Once they moved to Honolulu a few weeks ago, the stories finally stopped, but only because she never left James’s house.

  Pilot thought some time out of the spotlight would end the media nightmare, and she hadn’t wanted to be on the island anyway, so she didn’t care if she had to stay inside for a few days to give her brother peace of mind. She knew the media’s endless fascination with her upset Pilot, only because he was worried about her.

  But she couldn’t hide forever. And now that she was back in the public eye, she needed to make a good impression; partly for Pilot’s sake, but also for her own. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the students of DeRosa if she had to spend the next three years of her life with them.

  She reached the doors and entered the building. She walked down the hallway as quickly as she could, ignoring the whispers emanating from the crowd of teenagers that cleared a path for her. She followed the numbers on the lockers that lined the walls until she reached the one that belonged to her. Everywhere she passed, the blaring conversation fell to a low but urgent hiss, coupled with bursts of soft laughter.

  It was only 8:53am, which meant she had seven minutes to kill before classes started. Her plan was to spend several minutes fiddling with her school supplies at her locker, leaving only enough time to get to class a few seconds before the bell rang.

  “Look at this,” a loud girl said, holding up her phone to a group of students. “Zoey Fromme has before and after shots on her gossip website already.”

  “Seriously?!” another girl exclaimed. “That explains why she looks so different in person.”

  She glanced at the girls out of the corner of her eye, trying not to get caught looking at them. The main girl, the ringleader, had short, curly hair and wore plenty of expensive jewelry—Hermes and Alexis Bittar among the brands. The second girl had bottle-blonde roots and the olive complexion of a mainlander. There were other girls standing near them, but two identical twins with skin the color of cocoa and eyes the color of lavender stood out, one with a curious expression on her face and the other with squinted, disapproving eyes.

  One of the twins, the kind-looking one, touched the second girl’s shoulder. “Give her a chance,” she whispered. “The story is probably a lie.”

  “Doubtful,” the first girl said. “Her dead mom’s inheritance probably paid for them.”

  Several of the other girls laughed and she felt her face heating up with embarrassment. They were talking about her when she was standing barely ten feet away, loud enough so that everyone in the hallway could hear them. She bit her lip, determined not to show emotion. Every magazine in the country had published lies about her family for months and months. She couldn’t let a group of teenage girls derail her now.

  She tilted her chin upward and straightened her posture. She had no idea what the girls were referring to specifically, only that they were talking about her. A part of her wanted to pull out her cell phone and check the news right then, but she couldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  She stared straight ahead into her locker, pretending to sort through several notebooks. A photograph of her mother slipped out from between her brand new school supplies. She picked it up, recognizing it from just a few months earlier. She was in the picture and they were both smiling. It was probably one of the last pictures they had taken together.

  She slipped the picture along the back edge of her locker, wedging it between two ridges of metal.

  When she turned around, the ringleader with the short, curly hair was standing right in front of her.

  “Brie van Rossum,” the girl said. “I’m Sheila Wright. I just wanted to make sure that you’re feeling okay after your big operation.”

  Sheila smiled at her, and one of the other girls in her group covered her mouth, biting away her laugh.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Brie replied. Her mind raced through all the possible things Sheila could be referring to. This was no doubt a reference to whatever story was posted to Zoey Fromme—but what was the story? What had the online gossip site printed about her now?

  “I think you do know,” Sheila said. “My mom had it done a few years ago. She still has the scars, and they look completely disgusting.”

  The 3-minute warning bell rang. Brie shut her locker, ensuring that the lock clicked into place.

  “I better get to class,” she said, ducking her head and side-stepping Sheila.

  She walked away, her back facing Sheila. She resisted the urge to look back with each step… one… two… three…

  “Nice to meet you,” Sheila called out in a singsong voice. “We’re all really excited to have you at the academy.” A few students throughout the hallway chuckled, which put Brie over the edge.

  They weren’t just gossiping about her behind her back; they were actively trying to embarrass her and make her feel uncomfortable. Outrage flooded her body; when there were so many terrible things in the world already, when she had already lost her mother, the one person she loved above all… she couldn’t take it anymore. Emotions coursed through her—anger, resentment, ferocity, disappointment, hurt, embarrassment, pain—

  Something behind her burst and someone—possibly Sheila—squealed in surprise. Brie’s stomach knotted up as she spun around slowly, hearing more exclamations, swearing, shouting and movement. All through the hallway, the fire sprinklers had activated, spraying water from the ceilings onto the students below.

  Most of the students looked like wet dogs, soaked completely through. Several teachers poked their heads out from their classrooms to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing the disaster, they ushered students into classrooms, adding their shouting voices to the chaos.

  The lavender-eyed twins stared at her, mouths slightly open. She couldn’t tell them apart anymore; they shared the same shocked expression.

  A small part of her felt responsible, though she didn’t know why. It didn’t make any sense; she hadn’t set off the fire sprinklers.

  Or had she?

  Chapter 3 - Pilot

  Pilot re-entered the boys’ locker room just as his phone buzzed with another text message. He dug for the phone in his pocket, figuring he couldn’t ignore it much longer.

  Before he could reach it, Justin rushed past him, slapping him on the back. “Your sister’s on fire today! Front page of Zoey Fromme.”

  At Justin’s words, his stomach turned into a roller coaster ride; metal scraping against metal, sudden drops, twists and loops when he least expected them. He groaned. “Not again.” Zoey Fromme was the biggest gossip website on the planet. Anything it had to say about his family couldn’t be good.

  Justin handed him his phone. “Read it and weep.” He glanced over the headline and image on the screen, his stomach riling in disgust. He recognized the clothes Brie was wearing.

  “This picture is from today. How did they get these up so fast?”

  Justin smirked. “So, is it true?”

  He handed the phone back to Justin, shooting him the deadliest look he could muster. “My sister did not get a boob job.”

  “You gotta admit, bro, they do look a lot bigger in those afters.”

  “I don’t have to admit anything,” he replied, his nostrils flaring. Honolulu was supposed to be his sanctuary from the media circus that had engulfed his family since his
mother’s death. The last several weeks had been a blissful reprieve from the drama, the texts, and the phone calls, but he should have known that it wouldn’t last.

  Especially now that his dreams had started again.

  “She definitely had something happen to her,” Justin said. “Brie van Rossum, on her way to becoming a woman. I could help her out,” he added suggestively.

  Pilot stood up on pure adrenaline, no plan in place for how he would shut Justin up, only knowing he needed to.

  “What are you going on about now?” Rykken asked as he walked in, thankfully interrupting them. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked on Pilot. He turned to Justin. “What did I just walk into?”

  “We were just talking about Pilot’s sexy little sister.”

  “Stop,” Pilot warned.

  Rykken’s shoulders visibly tensed as Justin strode toward him. “Come on,” Justin said. “Tell Pilot I’m right. Her rack definitely looks bigger in those afters.”

  Pilot watched his best friend glance at the phone, sigh, and shake his head. “Haven’t noticed anything,” he said evenly. He looked up and met Pilot’s eyes, before looking away again.

  “Tell me the truth,” Pilot said. He didn’t know why he was pressing his best friend, why he was pushing them into uncomfortable territory.

  Rykken tossed his bag aside and turned to him. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, something’s… changed about her.”

  He glared at Rykken.

  Rykken held his hands up, shrugging. “What? You asked.”

  Justin’s curly black hair fluttered as he shook his head, laughing. There were few things Justin loved more than pitting people against each other, and he seemed to take extra pleasure in causing discord between Pilot and Rykken.

  “Either way,” Justin said, “she’s a lot hotter than I remember her.”

  Pilot pitched a wadded damp towel at Justin, which he deflected lazily.

  Rykken caught the towel and whipped Justin square across the back of the head with it.

  Justin yelped and rubbed the back of head.

  “Why do you have to say it like that?” Rykken asked him. “Have some respect.”

  Justin’s grin grew wider, though he moved far out of range of Rykken’s towel-snapping abilities. “I ask because I care. I don’t want to see anything happen to the hottest sophomore in the entire school.”

  “Give it a rest,” Pilot barked. He was trying not to take Justin’s bait, but the slight boom of his words probably wasn’t convincing anyone. He pulled a soft white polo shirt over his head, deciding not to care if he seemed a little overprotective. He wasn’t going to stand for any locker room talk about Brie.

  “Why should I back off?” Justin leaned against the lockers with a thumb in the front of his pants, like he was posing for an Abercrombie catalog. “She’s my type. She’s got those green eyes…” Justin sauntered over to Pilot. “I need you to put in a good word with Brie for me, bro. We’re friends, right?”

  “Exactly,” he said, masking his annoyance by matching Justin’s playful tone. He patted him on the back. “That’s why you need to stay away from my sister—no unnecessary complications in our friendship.”

  Rykken chuckled as he combed through his long, dark hair. Pilot’s warning didn’t faze Justin though. He merely grinned, clearly enjoying teasing him about this.

  “You know what else we shouldn’t make too complicated?” Justin asked. He pulled some pills out of his pocket, holding them out to Pilot, not bothering to hide the fact.

  Pilot snatched the pills out of Justin’s hand. “Real classy.”

  Rykken watched the bag of pills travel between them, his jaw set.

  “You don’t have to pay me,” Justin said. “Consider it my gift. Or maybe we can make another deal—I keep supplying you and you let your sister decide for herself who she wants to date.”

  Pilot’s entire body tensed. Justin was a dick, no question. He knew Pilot needed those pills, he knew Rykken wouldn’t approve, he knew Pilot’s sister was off limits.

  He stuffed the pills deep into his locker and slammed it shut, facing Justin. “You want to date my sister?” he asked. “My 15-year old sister? Fine. She just lost her mother and she barely eats anything or talks to anyone, so she’s probably not all that fun to date right now, but sure go ahead.”

  “Hey, I can work with that,” Justin said. “I’ll show her how to have fun again.”

  “You’re a dick,” Pilot said. He could easily have thrown a punch, he was so pissed—but he knew that Justin would do or say anything to get a rise out of him. The more he seemed bothered by it, the more Justin would push.

  But Justin wasn’t getting near his sister; he would make sure of it, whatever it took.

  Pilot took a deep breath and forced himself to shrug it off. “Whatever,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. “Good luck with that.”

  “Don’t egg him on,” Rykken warned, walking to his own locker. “And definitely don’t wish him luck. He’s gotten lucky in the past. Didn’t turn out so nicely for the girls, though.”

  Justin shot Rykken a nasty look, the same one he reserved for those moments when their coach praised Rykken. Over the summer, their coach had named Rykken water polo captain instead of Justin, even though he was only in his junior year at DeRosa Academy. Since then, Justin had been the worst version of himself. He seemed determined to one-up Rykken in any way he could.

  “I’m joking.” Rykken backed up slightly, just enough to placate the balled fist forming at Justin’s side. “Don’t take things so personally.”

  “It’s all personal, isn’t it?” Justin said, still glaring at Rykken. “Friendship? That’s why we’re all here, right?”

  “I thought you were here to rip on us,” Pilot said, breaking the tension in the room.

  “That too.” Justin released his glare on Rykken. “But it’s getting a little boring, so I’m gonna split. See you two at lunch. If I’m not chasing after a new student, that is.” He shut his locker and strutted out the door.

  Pilot tapped his fist against his locker, debating whether he wanted bloody knuckles so early in the morning. Rykken looked up at the noise. “Ignore him.”

  He tapped again. He felt broken and pissed as hell. “She didn’t really get surgery, did she? No, I would know if she had.”

  Rykken shrugged. “It could be anything.” He moved his fingers across his own cell phone, scrolling through the images on it. “Photoshop, weight gain, growth spurt—”

  Pilot moved forward knocked Rykken’s phone out of his hands, onto a pile of dirty towels on the floor. “Don’t. I know you’re joking but I can’t.” He sat down on the bench next to Rykken’s locker, leaning his head back. “She’s only fifteen. Fifteen. God, she shouldn’t be getting attacked on a website. She shouldn’t have senior guys drooling after her.”

  Rykken’s brow furled as he made a face.

  “What?” Pilot prompted. “Just say it, whatever you’re going to say. It can’t be worse than what I’ve already heard from Justin.”

  Rykken shook his head. “You’re right, this website thing is crap and totally uncalled for. As for the senior guys wanting to date her… I mean, she’s a sophomore. A grade younger than us. She’s not exactly your kid sister anymore.”

  “She’s fifteen,” he repeated. He thought back to the girls he dated when he was fifteen and felt his face flushing. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Okay,” Rykken said.

  The room fell unnaturally silent.

  Pilot sighed loudly. “Say it.”

  “It’s just that…” Rykken paused. “It might help her to have some friends. Go to parties. Be normal teenager. Justin’s not wrong in that sense.”

  Pilot scowled, pressure building in his chest.

  Rykken held up his hands, palms out in surrender. “Just saying.”

  “Look, she’s all I have left. And there are people who want to hurt her. Girls w
ho want to tear her down. Guys who want to…” he trailed off, unable to finish his thought. “Well, you heard. I’m not ready for that.”

  “Not every guy is going to take advantage of her and no every girl is going to gossip about her.” Rykken got a faraway look in his eyes. “There are good guys out there, you know.”

  Pilot shook his head. “Brie is not… not like me. She hasn’t made the same mistakes as me and I want to keep it that way. She’s in a vulnerable place right now, and I just… I have to protect her. I owe that to our mom.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Rykken said quickly. “I know you feel responsible for her, and I’ll help keep the Justins of the world away from her.”

  “I know, I know,” Pilot said. Rykken had had his back since they were 12 years old. They had been teammates in their water polo leagues every summer since. And Rykken had been his rock since they moved in with their father.

  “Speaking of previous mistakes…” Rykken said. “Are you going to explain the pills, or are we just going to gloss over that?”

  “I could ring Justin’s neck for that one,” Pilot grumbled. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Okay,” Rykken said. “Because what I think is that he’s supplying you with drugs. I’m glad it’s not that though.”

  Pilot frowned. “Look, I’m having the dreams again. I asked Justin to get me something to help make them stop. That’s all.”

  Rykken sat down on the bench across from him, facing him. “What dreams?”

  “The ones about my mom.” Pilot couldn’t meet Rykken’s eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping, okay? Nothing over-the-counter helps. I need the strong stuff.”

  Rykken nodded. “I’m only going to say this once, because I’m not going to be that judgmental friend giving you lectures. And I’m only doing this because you asked me to keep you grounded.”

  “I know what you’re going to say already,” Pilot said. “You don’t think I should take the pills.”

  “No, man. Take the pills, don’t take the pills… what matters is how serious are you about changing? When you moved here, you said you wanted to be a better person. You wanted to be a better brother. So how serious are you? And are these pills really about your dreams, or are they a gateway back to the you you’re trying to escape?”