A Shimmer of Angels

by Lisa M Basso

  I straightened up. His fingers fell from my face and wound around my hands again. This time I moved my fingertips along his hand, my heart pounding with each stroke.

  “How did you do that?”

  A small smile brightened his face. “I told you: people are at ease with me.”

  “They are at ease, or you use that thing with your eyes to put them at ease, like some kind of angel … magic?”

  “You can see when I do that?”

  I nodded, releasing his hands again. He rested them on the knees of my pink uniform.

  “We shouldn’t be having this conversation. I shouldn’t be interfering.”

  Now that Cam’s liquid calm had been injected into my veins, I took advantage of his willingness to answer questions, and tried an easy one first. “So these … Fallen,” I tested the word on my tongue. Didn’t like it. “They’re responsible for the suicides?”

  Cam nodded. “I don’t know how, but we think they’re forcing your classmates’ hands.”

  I left the bench, testing the stability of my legs. They were good enough to pace on. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?” How do I know I’m not completely off the deep end?

  “I can’t answer that for you.” He hesitated. “Does it feel real?”

  I scratched my palms. They burned. I remembered the cuts I’d made. Red coated the inside of my hands and wrists. I checked Cam’s and found dried blood on them too. “My blood—I’m sorry.” With my clean forearm, I tried wiping it away furiously. The friction of our skin burning like fire.

  He stopped me. “It’s nothing to worry about. Maybe if you tried to focus …”

  Like I wasn’t trying already. “You’re sure Tony and Allison’s deaths were … murders?” It made no sense.

  He took his time answering. “Unfortunately.”

  “How many of … them are there?”

  “Here? There could be one, or … twenty. There’s no way for us to know. We really have to—”

  “There was a picture. Allison saw—drew—the dark silhouette of a man with wings. Tony drew the same thing in his notebook, and Luke told me he’s been seeing it in his dreams. Is that why they’re after him?”

  Cam stood. He turned his back on me and ran a hand through his hair. “Rayna, I …you can’t just expect me to—” He huffed and turned back around. “I was sent for Luke specifically, to guard his life. He’s strong, which is why they want him. I have no idea about the drawings.”

  “You were sent? Like a … guardian angel?”

  “Something like that.” He pressed his hands down in the air. “Listen, after I spoke to my superiors about you being able to see me, they ordered me to find out if you could see the Dark Ones. My kind can’t. Their wings are as invisible to us as ours are to them.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You can help save lives.”

  “You’d say just about anything to get me on board, wouldn’t you?”

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the gray that swept over me was softer than silk. His stony expression was gone, leaving only kindness. “No. The last thing I want to do is mislead you.”

  A shiver crept up my arms. “A liar would say that, too.”

  His jaw clenched beneath a half-day’s worth of blond stubble. “I can’t make you trust me. You must make your own choice.”

  “But you can make me feel something.”

  “That’s an artificial calm. It won’t hurt you.”

  He couldn’t really expect me to trust him. Them. Angels. Especially when every appearance of their wings had sent me back to that place, stripped me of my freedom, and basically brought me back to square one with my therapy. Therapy I’d never needed, if they were real. And now he wanted me to seek them out. Purposely. How crazy did he think I was?

  What if Cam wasn’t an angel at all, but some sicko who got off on messing with the clinically ill?

  I knew nothing about him.

  I needed to test him, to know if I could really trust the things I’d been seeing. But if he was messing with me, he’d just lie. I stepped closer. He didn’t move, but watched me warily. Before I was aware of what I was doing, I touched his arm. His breathing stalled. I tentatively removed my hand. Emptiness welled inside me. I tested a theory, pressing my fingertips to his chest. There was nothing. Cam didn’t have a heartbeat.

  Yeah, that certainly helps the fight for sanity.

  Then again, those lips didn’t help, either. Especially now, when they were so close I could touch them with my own. If I’d wanted to. Did I want to? I’d never done anything like that before. What would angel lips taste like? Sunshine? Marshmallows? Or something altogether different? Maybe buttered-popcorn jelly beans.

  Could he be influencing me? Distracting me? Christ, he doesn’t even have a heartbeat!

  I almost pulled away, but I had to know. I rose to the toes of my horrid nurse shoes and skimmed my hands toward his shoulders. He tensed.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was a rough whisper.

  I shook my head, reaching farther over his shoulder. Soft feathers and numbness brushed my fingers.

  Cam stumbled back, shuddering.

  He’d given me answers. Now it was up to me to believe them.

  When he spoke, his voice was thick, affected. “Can you tell me … where you saw The Fallen?”

  “Roxy’s Diner, where I work.”

  The night shaded his face as he looked down at me. “Can you tell me anything about him?”

  I nodded, fighting back flashes of soul-sucking and sparkling black wings. “Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. His name’s Kade.”

  “Kasade.” His voice adopted a rough edge.

  “Kass-aid? What, do you know him or something?”

  His fists balled by his side, the action creating an odd pressure inside my head. “Yeah, I know him.”

  “Did he kill Allison and Tony?”

  The disdain in his face bloomed, intensifying the pounding behind my eyes. “Maybe.”

  I swallowed and pressed a hand against my right eye. “Well you obviously know who he is and what he looks like. Why don’t you just take him out or whatever? Why do you need me?”

  “There could be more than just him. And if there are, you could be instrumental in helping us save lives. More than just Luke’s.”

  I shuffled two steps back, fighting to get a handle on the pain.

  Cam looked up at me and blinked. He was different again, softer. In a moment, my headache faded.

  “Did you just … give me a headache?”

  “I’m sorry. I … guess I have to watch my feelings around you. You’re more sensitive to them than others. Which is how I think you ended up here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was … thinking about you just before you showed up.”

  “Nuh-uh. No way. I was running from that monster.” I checked over my right shoulder, then the left, unable to believe I’d let my guard down enough to forget that he might have followed me here.

  “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. Eventually, you will.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “Wait, why were you thinking about me?”

  A small smile broke across his face, but was gone in a blink. “It’s late. Can I walk you home? His fingers pressed against the middle of my back and gently led me forward.

  Great. I was caught in the middle of an angel war and both sides scared the crap out of me. Figures.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Cam wanted my help and unwavering trust while he gave me next to nothing, except a headache. But with Kade out there, I was grateful for the escort. I angled toward home, no longer afraid to show Cam where I lived. If he wanted me dead, he’d already had two chances, and I was still alive.

  “So does this mean you’re real? Really real?”

  Cam’s hand was still on my back. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I couldn’t get any more proof than I already had.

  Chapter Twenty-Four<
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  The moment I came through the front door, I discovered how late it really was.

  Dad sat in the dining-room chair facing the foyer, arms crossed over his chest. “Where have you been? I was there at ten to pick you up. Your boss said you ran out before your shift was over. I drove around for half an hour looking for you.” His fingers drummed over his arm, a sure sign he was barely keeping his voice under control.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, suppressing the utter joy inside me. I’d been forbidden from seeing the men with wings—angels—had lost so much of my life denying them, but now … now I knew they were real. Or I was intensely more schizophrenic than before. But Cam … his questions, his answers, our entire conversation, I couldn’t have made that up.

  Tears pricked my eyes and my nose stung. I … wasn’t crazy. Not for seeing them. Three years locked away. Pills. Therapy. None of it had been necessary.

  I would never take another med again.

  My mouth slid opened, and I took my first full breath in years. Hope for true sanity bloomed in my chest.

  I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it on my way home, and I sure as hell couldn’t relish it now. They’d all still see it as crazy because they couldn’t know the truth. I also wasn’t prepared to pull an excuse out of the air. But I should have been. “Dad, could we please talk about this in the morning? I had a weird day and—”

  He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward in his chair. “Have you been crying?” His voice softened. He left his seat and hugged me. I tried to stand still and let him. “Do you need to talk to someone?” The way he said someone told me he meant a professional.

  Not Dr. G. I shook my head, but he only squeezed me tighter. His leniency should have been an incredible gift, but Dad usually only softened this way because he was afraid of pushing too hard, worried I’d break. He must have thought I was losing it again. Running out of the diner before my shift ended probably made me look pretty crazy.

  The fragile way he stroked my hair made me realize just how close I was to being sent back. Tears blurred my eyes for the twentieth time tonight, and the wetness streaked down my face.

  “Don’t cry, Ray, please. We can talk about this tomorrow, after I get you a cell phone.”

  “Cell phone? I don’t want one.” Of all the things to obsess over, I chose the damn cell phone. Guess it was easier to fight than mental hospital stuff.

  “I know you don’t, but you are getting one, and you will answer when I call. I need to know where you are. At all times.” The dad-voice intensified.

  Exactly why I didn’t want one. “Sorry, Dad. Not happening.”

  He stepped back, breaking the hug. “You don’t have a choice, young lady.” He returned to his seat, tapping his foot on the floor. “Unless you quit your job, then maybe we can put off the cell phone.”

  After what I saw there today, quitting didn’t sound like such a bad idea. The thought of having to return to Roxy’s Diner and see that … that soul stealer, to face him with the terror dripping from my palms, made me feel ill.

  Dad frowned, emphasizing lines around his mouth I’d never noticed before. His long face showed how tired he was, how ready to give up. Would things be different if Mom was still here? Of course they would. I pushed the thought away.

  “I’ll take the cell phone. And keep my job.”

  I trudged up the stairs to my room, washed my face, and climbed into bed. Anxiety pounded through me every time I closed my eyes. There would be no sleep this night.

  ***

  Saturday came and went without a trace of Kade, though I checked around every corner and held my breath whenever the bell over the diner door chimed—especially after nightfall.

  Sunday broke my lucky streak. Daphne rested her corns in the back, and Shelly called in sick—something about her partying too hard and never making it home. Between two or three in the afternoon, the sky darkened with the promise of rain. It was then the soul stealer strolled through the diner door.

  Of all the diners in all the world … he has to stroll into mine. Mom’s favorite movie had been Casablanca.

  I glanced over my last few customers and stepped back, only stopping when I bumped into the back counter. The new cell phone Dad had forced into my pocket this morning dug into my hip. I took a deep, steadying breath, squared my shoulders, and grabbed the coffee pot.

  “Coffee today?”

  I remembered the way he’d sucked the soul out of the blonde in the back alley. “‘Cause we’re not sating any other needs here tonight.” Maybe it was stupid, but somehow, I wanted him to know what I’d seen. And that I wasn’t scared of him. Because I wasn’t. I was terrified.

  His smile was all pleasantness. It was the only part of his face I allowed my gaze to drift over. “Coffee’s fine.”

  I poured the lunch-batch tar into a mug. My hands shook as I set it in front of him, and a little sloshed over the rim. He ignored the spill, wrapping his large hands around the mug and tapping the rim with an impatient finger.

  “So, wild night Friday.”

  I fired him the dirtiest look I could manage. It was a mistake, as it put those rich, dark orbs in my direct line of view. One corner of his desperately in-need-of-a-shave lip twisted up. The charcoal cable-knit sweater he wore over a black t-shirt was thick enough to battle the light mist outside, but he made a show of turning up the collar. His darkly stained wings flared, swallowing the whole length of the counter.

  The chill that crept beneath my pink dress had nothing to do with the temperature inside the diner. Again, I hardened my expression and dropped my gaze.

  “How do you do it?” The smoky bass in his voice rode my spine like a rollercoaster.

  I returned the coffee pot to its holder—before I dropped it again—and leaned back against the counter. I rested my elbows back on either side of me, hoping for an air of casualness I didn’t feel. “Do what?”

  His smile stretched in an almost genuine way. “See me.” He tipped his chin up, gesturing to his wings. He folded them back behind his back.

  I tried to shrug, but ended up with a jerky, half-movement. “Magic.”

  He sipped his coffee. “Sarcasm. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  I had enough fear in me to run screaming from him—or pass out behind the counter—but the SS Crazy had taught me more than just a love of gardening. It had taught me how to mask what I was feeling. Most of the time. Guess being on the inside was finally starting to pay off. Then again, I’d never had a true, life-or-death motivation before. “How do you do it?”

  He glanced up. His brows lifted, creasing his forehead. “Do what?”

  “Take innocent lives.” I didn’t know that the blonde was dead, but it seemed a safe bet after what Cam had told me in the park Friday night.

  The laugh that rolled from his throat wasn’t the malicious one I expected. “What are you talking about? I love humans, as much as my maker does. I wouldn’t kill them. You all … fascinate me.” He didn’t even have the good sense to lower his voice.

  I shuddered. “Can’t say I believe you after what I saw.”

  He smiled again, this time baring perfect teeth. “Can’t say I blame you.” His voice was darker. “Now, can I get some more coffee?”

  Only if I can spit in it first. My gaze dodged his, looking toward the kitchen. I hoped Daphne would return soon.

  I grabbed the pot. “I think you’re a murderer.” My voice came out low, keeping his secret from the eleven other patrons in the diner. I placed my hand on the counter to steady myself as I poured.

  His hand snapped around my wrist. I jerked back, spilling a perfectly yucky cup of coffee.

  Kade abandoned his seat. Both his hands encircled my arms, steadying me, looking for all the world like he was comforting the poor, clumsy waitress.

  I gathered a handful of pink skirt in my free hand to keep from shouting and drawing more unwanted attention. I shot invisible lasers at him and imagined slamming the coffee pot in his face just t
o keep it together. To take my mind off his hands around me, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t let anyone see the crazy. No way I’d ever go back, and I damn sure wasn’t about to let Kade be the one to put me there.

  “You’re right,” he whispered, his mouth too close to my ear. I shot a frantic look around the diner, but except for a few curious glances, no one seemed ready to intervene. “But I don’t kill humans. That girl is just fine.” His dark gaze bore through me, drifted across my skin. I scratched the scabs in my right palm and they burst free. Pain throbbed in my nerve endings. Warm liquid filled my palm and absorbed into my skirt. He released me.

  I stumbled back, slipping on the spilled coffee. Kade watched as my back slammed into the back counter and I went down. The coffee pot shattered against the tile floor, littering me with tiny fragments of glass and a hot rush of coffee. I called out, but let the shout die down to a gasp when the closest table of customers popped up from their seats.

  Kade dipped down and pulled me up by my hands before I could scurry away across the glass. “You okay?” A slight grin rode the curve of his lip.

  Once on my feet, I inched back from him, careful not to slip.

  All eyes were on me. It felt like the cafeteria at school all over again. I squeezed my eyes shut. Regroup.

  I opened my eyes again and forced a chuckle. With Kade securely in the corner of my eye, I took a bow, first to the right, then the left. A few of the customers applauded, and the two who had stood up returned to their seats, looking embarrassed for me. With my teeth gritted and a half-smile still on my lips, I hissed at Kade, “Get back.”

  To my surprise, he did, returning to his seat at the counter. I retreated into the back for the mop and nearly lost it. I’d pressed myself against the wall beside the kitchen’s swinging doors for a few seconds too long when I noticed Jose, my favorite cook, watching me. Braving another fake smile, I pulled the mop bucket out, accidentally doubling the normal amount of solution, and turned on the hot water. Suds formed a dome over the top of the bucket too quickly, so I switched off the water.

  Daphne’s office door remained closed. At least one person had missed my spectacular fail. But what on earth was I going to do with Kade? Jose flipped the two burgers on the flat top and added cheese to one. He shook out the excess oil from the fry basket. I wrapped two paper towels around my right hand to stay the bleeding, then wheeled the mop and bucket out to the diner floor.