Not wanting to deal with him any longer I pulled a new phone from my pocket and concentrated on trying to work it; I had to have one in order to fit in.
“How’s that coming along? It took me forever to get the hang of mine. The touch screen doesn’t pick up our, you know, angels’, fingers very well.” He walked over to where I sat, and the confused look in his eyes was gone.
What was wrong with this guy? “That’s great info, but I didn’t ask for it.” His open, honest, trusting face had never looked more punchable.
I went back to poking at the phone, but he was right: half the time the screen didn’t respond to my poking at all.
“You know I’m not going to give you a chance to hurt the girl, right?”
Finally. I thought he was never going to bring her up. “I don’t think you’ll be able to stop me, sir. We’ll see.” I propped my feet casually on my desk.
“Please don’t hurt Abigail, not just to hurt me, or to prove something to Daligo. Come at me directly, if you like, but leave the human out of it. She’s nothing to you.”
“She’s nothing to me, all right.”
After that, I tuned him out.
Nothing to me? Even less. Abigail struck me as brainless and irritating. Literally struck me. She’d barreled straight into me, after all. I couldn’t figure out how she’d known my name before I’d even introduced myself, but none of that mattered, since she’d be dead soon.
“… I know the Elders thought I’d be a challenge for you, but you don’t have to be here just because of what they think.”
Was he kidding me? He thought he was a challenge? “Don’t flatter yourself, Highness. I’m here because I want to be.”
I didn’t stick around to hear the rest of his boring little speech. I transported myself to the courtyard in front of the school and, invisible, watched Tristan’s human and her friends. Letting myself be invisible at long last was a bit of relief. Trying to manifest a physical form all the time, one that could be sensed by human beings (and smart phones) took a tremendous effort. I relaxed into it.
Abigail was still in the parking lot, waving to Sarah from the back of a chauffer-driven Mercedes S600. The car, and its passenger, drew a few envious looks even from the pampered student body here. The adoration she received was ridiculous. Before the Mercedes had left the lot Tristan appeared beside me, and we flew invisibly behind it as it pulled away.
To my surprise, my day was going kind of great. Annoying Abigail throughout the day had kept the boredom at bay.
Traffic was light, and after a half-hour or so the Mercedes was nearing the tip of Belvedere Island, pulling through the automatic gate in the security fence surrounding a mansion and its outbuildings. The driveway was shaded from the California sun by mature trees. Locust trees? Sour gum? Tristan would probably know, the little snot. A clay tennis court and a lap pool nestled alongside the guesthouse on our right.
The chauffeur came to a stop and Abigail stepped out. “Thanks for the ride.” She waved, and headed toward one of the two stone stairways that led to the portico.
Tristan and I followed her as she made her way into the house. The four-story foyer rang with the sound of her steps on the marble floors, and made me wonder what it must be like to be human and to have weight and presence all the time. It was a beautiful space, with its columns and its stained-glass skylight, but it was also somehow cold, all stone and iron and bright glass.
One of the bodyguards poked his head through the door. “Call us if you need anything, Abby,” he said, and Abigail nodded. She headed up the steps to the first mezzanine and turned into the formal dining room.
She set her bag down in front of the green marble fireplace and slipped off her shoes. This room had exposed beams and hardwood floors almost as shiny as the marble ones below. On the table and mantelpiece were absurd spiky floral arrangements. Oh, great. Artistic types must live here.
Abigail scooped up her shoes and her school things and continued on into the kitchen, where she was greeted by a woman with dark hair and a sunny face. “Hi, Morgan,” she said, heading toward a chair next to the kitchen island.
“How was school, honey?” Morgan wiped her hands on her red-and-white checked apron.
“It wasn’t bad.” She made her way to a chair.
Abigail looked in the direction of the kitchen window, with its view of the bay. She seemed lost in thought, because she didn’t even notice when Morgan placed a sizeable bowl of ice cream in front on her.
“I made your favorite—strawberry-vanilla swirl,” she said, bringing Abigail’s attention to the ice cream.
Abigail ate three spoonfuls without looking at it. Morgan noticed her distraction and tried to draw her out. “The library called,” she said, untying her apron strings. “They can’t wait to have you read for the children on Wednesday.” Suddenly, Abby’s face lit up.
“I can’t wait, either.” She ate another spoonful of ice cream. “I ordered some new books to donate. With luck, they should be here tomorrow.”
What a waste of space she was.
Abigail’s phone beeped, and she grabbed it, glancing at the screen. As she read through the new text message, her face clouded. I looked over her shoulder to read the message myself.
411!!!! It’s on. 2nite. Concert at 8:00 XD.
C ya soon. Kiss, UR BFF Sarah *w*
“Hmm, thanks for the ice cream, Morgan,” Abigail said, putting her dish in the sink. “I really should go up and get started on my homework.” She was already hurrying out of the kitchen.
Tristan and I followed her up another floor and into her bedroom.
Room wasn’t quite the right word. Abigail had more of a suite, with a small sitting area in front of yet another fireplace (I would later learn the house had four. Four.) One open door led to her walk-in closet, and another to her bathroom. A pair of french doors led to a balcony that overlooked the garden and also afforded a view of the water. She opened these French doors to let in the breeze, and headed into the bathroom for a shower.
Tristan walked out of the bedroom and onto the balcony. I decided to pass the time pretending I didn’t notice Tristan’s presence at all.
Angels are supposed to give humans privacy when they’re having private moments. This means that whenever they’re undressed, we tend to give them their space. Tristan respected this show of propriety. Since I had only come to Earth to kill this human, respecting her modesty wasn’t my problem. I looked through her books and the papers on her desk as she finished bathing and wandered (in nothing but a towel) across to her closet. Tristan occasionally gave me a dirty look through the balcony windows.
“Where is it?” came a shout from the closet. Wait, was she talking to us? Did she know we were here? Tristan and I were through the closet door like a shot. False alarm: she was merely talking to herself as she carelessly threw her clothes around, trying to decide what to wear. She was already dressed in a black tank top and a simple pair of skinny jeans when we entered. “There you are!” she said, pulling a band T-shirt out of the mess. As she put the shirt on she dialed Sarah, who told her they were coming to get her soon, and that operation “Sneak Abigail Out” was in action.
After Abigail ended the call she took her watch from the edge of the bathroom sink and put it under her pillow. She then started arranging the pillows on her bed to make it look as though she were sleeping in it. She smoothed the blankets one last time and went out on her balcony.
After making sure none of the security personnel were in sight, she sat on the stone railing, dangling her legs over, waiting for a signal from her friends. I saw this as an opportunity.
I smiled, and without looking at Tristan, I walked up behind Abigail. I concentrated on having weight, on having a physical presence, and I shoved her, hard, from the balcony railing.
She screamed as she fell.
HELL ON WHEELS
It took Tristan barely a second to realize what I had done. He zoomed past me as Abigail’s scream rang o
ut.
Strength filled me. I knew Tristan wouldn’t be able to catch her without having to draw attention to himself, and, by extension, to all the host of angels. He wouldn’t dare, so nothing could go wrong.
One moment, Abigail was seconds from hitting the ground, but the next thing I knew, she had landed perfectly on her feet.
What the hell?
Abigail took a second to catch her breath, and then she scanned the balcony, took her phone out of her pocket, and pressed it to her ear.
She walked around the corner of the house as she barked into the phone. “Logan, I want a full sweep of Cells mansion.” She kept glancing over her shoulder as if looking for someone. “What? No, I don’t see Felix. Where are you? Well then, please make the time. This is important.” Abigail slid her phone back into her pocket, grumbling.
I didn’t understand why she wasn’t dead. Daligo hadn’t told me Abigail was going to be hard to kill. Had I been tricked into this?
Tristan was now on the grass behind Abigail. He reached out to touch her hair, planning to magically calm her and heal whatever injuries she’d suffered in the fall, but she didn’t need him. He drew his hand back. Looks like Golden Boy was surprised by this human as well.
Abigail looked around her once more before she silently made the long walk toward the front gate. She slipped through the bars of the gate unnoticed by the night watchman, who was noisily cheering a football game on the television in the gatehouse.
An old Toyota was waiting less than half a block from the gate, where Blanding Lane teed into Belvedere, and pulled up to her the moment she stepped into view. Her friends were inside, all wearing the same matching T-shirts.
Abigail climbed into the car.
“How did you get out without your bodyguards?” Sarah asked.
Jake was already driving away slowly, leaving nothing but the soft echo of the car’s engine.
“I snuck out after telling everyone I was attacking a mountain of homework and tip-toed through the front gate,” she lied.
Tristan flew alongside Jake’s car, and I flew behind it.
The city of Marin felt alive. The streetlights were lit, as were store windows, and the buildings were darkened silhouettes with a scattering of glowing office windows. The lights all seemed decorative in the fading glow of evening rather than practical, arranged for beauty rather than commerce. People walking their dogs on the Mill Valley-Sausolito Path took their time, strolling and enjoying the salt air. The feeling inside the car was one of excitement and anticipation. “This concert is going to be epic,” Danny assured everyone.
Jake pulled onto Lombard, headed for Van Ness. The ride was a short one, so everyone expected to be safely inside the concert hall before anyone even noticed Abby was gone.
Sarah squealed, something about hoping she would get an autograph after the show. I expected that she would be disappointed.
“It’s a shame Tristan couldn’t get a ticket,” Jake said, glancing up from the road for a moment. “We’ll have to bring him back a shirt and some pictures.”
Sarah turned to Abigail “Speaking of beautiful boys who aren’t with us at the moment, I’ve been meaning to ask you—why were you so weird with Gideon?”
“I wasn’t,” Abigail insisted. “I’ve had a rough day, that’s all.”
A rough day? That was her excuse? I should show her a rough day. Maybe I should—Hold on: why did this even bother me? I needed to calm down, get myself back on track.
I needed to kill something.
Abigail and her friends chattered happily, their joy and excitement making me weaker and Tristan stronger.
Soon the car came to a stop at the traffic light at Webster.
Tristan wasn’t just feeding on his friends’ joy, he was sharing in it. Fool. It distracted him. I scanned the area around the intersection and saw a white Range Rover heading in the opposite direction, stopped in front of Spanish-inspired stucco building to our right. The driver inside looked bored.
Arise, all evil, I whispered to myself as I eyed the Range Rover. I pulled the vehicle with my mind, moving it out into traffic.
The driver grabbed hold of the steering wheel and tried to pump the brakes, shouting as he crossed three lanes and then the divider, smashing into vehicles, heading toward Jake’s Toyota. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Abigail and her friends realize the danger they were in. I heard their screams. I smiled to see the panic in their faces. The power of their fear flowed into me.
Tristan waved his hand, and the Range Rover stopped just before it could ram the next car out of its way. The driver pulled the keys from the ignition and hopped out of the driver’s seat to approach the cars he’d hit. An angry knot of people gathered near the intersection, exchanging shouts and insurance information.
I turned to the Range Rover again. I cranked the engine, and the driver gawped at the keys in his hand. He waved the drivers and onlookers out of the way as his car jerked forward, tossing him to the ground with its bumper. Danny jerked on the passenger-door handle as the Range Rover again headed toward them. Beside him Jake began to hyperventilate, clutching his throat rather than the wheel as he struggled to breathe. I held the doors firmly closed, trapping them in the car. Sarah banged on the window inches from my face without seeing me. Priceless.
Abigail, however, was staring at the oncoming car, dazed. Tristan whipped around when he heard Sarah’s screams. He saw the car plowing toward them, and then, once again, the car skidded to a halt.
Glaring angrily at Tristan, I conjured a ball of fire and threw it in his direction. His eyes weren’t on me, and it was too late when he finally saw the flames. The fireball knocked him nearly twelve feet backward, smashing him across cars and into the concrete curb. Yes.
People began to panic anew when they heard the noise that Tristan’s body made as it hit the ground. They, of course, couldn’t see him; they saw only the crater, and the char the fireball had caused.
The street looked like a battlefield. People were crawling out of their totaled vehicles, many of which were piled in a heap like discarded children’s toys. Some drivers managed to get out, and others weren’t even moving.
“Jake, wake up!” Sarah’s fear-cracked voice grabbed my attention.
I turned to look at Jake’s car and saw Jake had collapsed. I suppose he was in shock. Danny and Sarah still yanked uselessly at their door handles. Abigail looked steady and collected as she continued to gaze at the stalled Range Rover.
Where was her sense of fear? Seriously, what was with her? A little scream, an appetizer, was that too much to ask for?
I made the Range Rover move forward once again. The driver tried reaching through the driver’s side window to grab the steering wheel, but it didn’t respond. “What in the name…?” his words were cut off as he fell away from the door. The Range Rover picked up speed and rushed toward Jake’s car, knocking the parked vehicles out of its way.
“Get up, Jake!” Danny was shouting. “Jake!”
I admired my handiwork. To make things more interesting, I inched Jake’s car forward.
“What the—?” Abigail seemed to be the only one who noticed that Jake’s car was moving. I knew nothing could go wrong now. Tristan was still on the ground, and I was about to hit the jackpot.
Three.
Two.
What the hell?
CHASING DAWN
Impossible.” I whispered, looking at Jake’s car.
I wasn’t sure what had happened. All I knew was that just as the Range Rover was about to crash into Jake’s car, it swerved and lurched forward. It skidded to a stop out of harm’s way.
I appeared beside Jake’s car, furious. In the driver’s seat, Jake was still unconscious, but Abigail sat in his lap, holding the steering wheel.
She let go of the wheel and crawled into the backseat to check on Sarah.
Shock couldn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. Did Abigail steer them away? She couldn’t have. I was surpris
ed—and surprise wasn’t something I experienced often. I couldn’t think straight. No normal human could do what Abigail had just done. What was she?
Again, I started to think I’d been tricked into this assignment.
The street was filled with cries and chaos. It didn’t take long for police cruisers and ambulances to arrive. Paramedics rushed to help the injured.
This time when Abigail tried the car handle, the door opened. She stepped out of the car, and looking at the surrounding hell, burst into tears. Sarah and Danny climbed shakily out of the car, tears streaming down their cheeks.
My eyes searched the crowd until they found Tristan’s. The moment our eyes connected, tears started falling down his cheeks. What a sap. Then the night sky rumbled, and a roll of thunder pierced every heart and brought heightened fear into the souls of everyone around. Everyone except me. I just thought the forces of the universe were kissing up to Tristan. Show off!
Suddenly he was right in front of me. “Are you happy now?” he asked, clearly pained by the destruction I had caused. “Does this,” he pointed at the chaos around us, “make you happy?”
“Ecstatic. Do I win a prize?”
“You’re just… ” He paused, clenching his fists. “Just… ” His blue eyes abruptly turned gold.
“I’m what?” I asked, stepping closer to him when I realized he wasn’t going to continue his little speech. “What, are you too good to tell me how awful I am?”
“You don’t deserve even that satisfaction!” He transported himself to Abigail and her friends, who were gathered around Jake.
My breath burned in my lungs as anger built up inside me. I clenched my fists, letting the burning rage inside take control. My right hand ignited and I hurled the ball of fire straight toward Abigail.
Half a second before the fire blasted Abigail, Tristan’s hands snatched it from the air. Before I could inhale another breath, he was back in front of me.
“Enough, Gideon!”
“I’m just getting started,” I snarled, staring him straight in the eye. “I came here for the girl, and she’s still alive.”
Dominion (Re-edition) Page 10