Milayna's Angel

by Michelle K. Pickett

  “I’m going to have a vision.”

  His step faltered. “Oh, um, what should I do?”

  “Let’s go to the window and look outside. Maybe with my back turned, no one will notice.” Fat chance. I was already doubled over in pain. Xavier helped me to the window. I gripped the sill with both hands, holding myself up. My knuckles turned white from holding the sill so tightly, and my fingernails bent under the pressure.

  Mr. Ferguson. The bathroom.

  Gross.

  He undoes his tie. Sweating. His face is red.

  “I think something is wrong with Mr. Ferguson,” I said.

  “What?” I jumped at the sound of Chay’s voice. I should have expected him to show up. He could sense when one of the team was in danger or pain. With me, he could sense when I had a vision.

  Bathroom. He’s alone. His hand grips his chest. Sweating.

  “I think he may be having a heart attack.”

  Mr. Ferguson. Lying on a blue and gold tiled floor.

  “Where is he, Milayna?” Chay asked.

  “A bathroom.” My eyes were squeezed shut. I was trying to concentrate on the vision. Only one image played through my mind—Mr. Ferguson lying unconscious on the bathroom floor.

  “We have to search every bathroom until we find him,” Xavier said quickly.

  “He’s the principal. He has his own bathroom, moron,” Chay snapped.

  Chay ran down the hall toward the school office, Xavier close behind him. They were only gone four or five minutes, but it felt like hours. I knew the second someone found Mr. Ferguson. The painful clenching in my stomach eased and my head cleared.

  “What’d you do?” I asked when Chay and Xavier got back.

  “I asked to see the principal,” Chay said. “When the secretary said he was unavailable, I asked a little more… forcefully.”

  “He demanded,” Xavier said with a chuckle.

  Chay rolled his eyes. “After threatening to call my parents because I was being denied my right to speak with Mr. Ferguson, she finally went to get him. When he didn’t answer his door, she got the janitor, who found him lying on the floor. They’ve called an ambulance. Is the vision gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Chay looked from Xavier to me and scowled. “I have to get to class.” He turned and walked away.

  I stared after him, completely amazed at the transformation from charming, loving boyfriend to the distant, cold person he’d turned into. He knew how much the visions upset me. He always comforted me after one. Not only did he not comfort me, but he also hadn’t kissed me all day. The no-kissing part was completely unacceptable.

  “Chay, wait up.” I jogged down the hall.

  “I’m going to be late. The first bell’s already rung.”

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re late,” I yelled.

  He stopped and looked at me, letting his bag fall from his shoulder. “What?” he asked quietly.

  “What’s wrong with you today? Did I do something? Are you mad at me? Because if you are, just say so.”

  He looked at me so long that I didn’t think he was going to answer. Dropping the strap of his bag, he took two large strides toward me. Threading his hands through my hair, he bent his face to mine. He kissed me hard and deep until we were both breathless.

  “I’m sorry, Milayna. I’ve been a jerk today. I’m just… I don’t feel like myself.”

  “It’s okay—”

  “No.” He looked at the floor. “It’s not. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Chay.” He looked at me. “Kiss me again,” I whispered.

  He lowered his lips to mine, caressing them. I sighed when his tongue touched mine. He kissed me until he stole my breath. My head swam with the scent of him—my tongue craved his taste. Time stood still, and there was nothing but him, me, and the feel of our mouths moving in time with each other.

  And then it was gone.

  The bell’s shrill ring echoed through the locker-lined hallway. I looked at Chay. He grinned. “Maybe I should be in a bad mood more often if that’s the type of kiss I’m gonna get.”

  “No, no, you stay in a good mood. I’ll kiss you like that all the time.”

  He laughed, and I smiled at the sound. My Chay was back. The moody, distant guy was gone—hopefully for good.

  ***

  That afternoon, Chay was waiting for me when I left gym. “Can I drive you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Wanna milkshake? My treat.” He grinned.

  “You mean your uncle’s treat.” I laughed. “Besides, I can’t. I have to get home for my doctor’s appointment.”

  “Okay. I’ll settle for taking you home.”

  We walked to his car—he carried my books—holding hands. He opened the door for me, and I climbed into the car, breathing in his scent. I knew I was right where I was supposed to be. But just when I started to get comfortable… it began.

  He reached over and threaded our fingers together. That was when the first image flashed before my eyes.

  Chay. Muriel. Laughing.

  I let go of his hand and rubbed mine against my jeans to dry the sweat before Chay noticed. He laid his hand on my knee, and the second image flitted through my consciousness.

  Chay. Muriel—a look of unease.

  I angled my body toward him, curling my feet under me on the seat. He raised his hand to the back of my neck, running his fingers through my hair.

  Knife protruding from my stomach. Bloody hands. Chay’s hands.

  I choked at the image. He looked at me, the car swerving into the other lane. The drivers of the other cars honked and a few fingers flew. Chay grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, jerking the car back into the lane.

  “Whoa! My life just flashed before my eyes,” he said, his voice shaking.

  Yeah, you have no idea.

  16

  It’s Over

  I was lying in bed. My eyes were heavy, and I was just drifting to sleep when my phone chimed. I snatched it from my bedside table and pushed the button to read the text.

  Chay: So? What did the doctor say?

  Me: Gave me the all clear. Everything has healed, stitches are out, and I’m good to go.

  Chay: Good to hear.

  Me: How are you feeling?

  Chay: Better.

  Me: Gotta go. See you tomorrow?

  Chay: Yeah. Good night, Milayna. I love you. Don’t forget that.

  Me: Good night. I love you, too.

  I started to add for him not to forget it and try to kill me, but I decided that would ruin the moment.

  ***

  I’m at school, leaning against a blue locker with chipping paint. I’m alone except for Muriel and Chay, who are talking at the end of the hall. They’re standing in front of the lighted trophy case. To the right is the gym. To the left, behind Muriel, is a brick wall.

  Chay says something to Muriel. She shakes her head. He becomes more insistent. She puts her hands up, as if to push him away.

  Chay grabs her hands and jerks them down. He’s yelling. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can tell by his body language that he’s mad. Muriel has tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The demi-demons walk out of the shadows. They stand around Chay.

  I brace myself to run, to help Chay and Muriel fight them, but something stops me. They aren’t fighting. They’ve surrounded Chay, clapping him on the back, laughing and talking. About what, I can’t hear.

  Muriel cries. Her shoulders rock with the force of her sobs. A demi-demon’s hand snakes out and slaps her across the face before yelling something at her. I begin to run toward her. She looks at me, her mouth forming a perfect circle when she screams, “No.”

  I skid to a stop, my sneakers squeaking loudly against the gleaming, tiled floor. My feet slip out from under me, and I place my hand on the floor to steady myself. I stand and see the demi-demons advancing toward me. Chay in the lead.

  He’s saying something to me. The snee
r on his face, the look of complete loathing, scares me… and I turn to run.

  Jerking awake, I held back a scream. I rolled up and sat on the side of the bed. Blowing a lock of sweaty hair out of my face, I looked around the darkened room before slipping off the bed.

  In my bathroom, I turned on the tap and grabbed the glass sitting next to the sink. Filling it, I guzzled the cool water, and then filled it again and downed a second cup, trying to wash away the remnants of my nightmare.

  Walking back into my bedroom, I looked at the clock next to the bed. The large, green, glowing numbers read four o’clock. I had to be up in two hours.

  Who am I kidding? I’ll never be able to go back to sleep.

  I stalked over and switched off my alarm before slipping quietly into the hallway and making my way downstairs. Flipping on the light in the kitchen, I grabbed a pint of ice cream out of the freezer. I sat on the couch that overlooked the street, scooping a large spoonful of cookies ‘n’ cream into my mouth.

  He was standing there. I knew he would be.

  I ate my ice cream and watched him. Every once in a while, I’d see a fat hobgoblin dart past the window, their red skin like a beacon against the white, snow-covered ground. He didn’t move, however. He stood like a statue in the shadows. He’d been there every night for the past week.

  Jake.

  I reached across the couch, picked up the telephone, and dialed the police.

  ***

  Tuesday was a much better day for Chay and me. We fell into our old routine. He walked me to my classes—always carrying my books—we ate lunch together, and we kissed as often as we could. Yeah, that was the best part.

  It was after gym. I’d gone out the back exit to grab a water from the vending machine before meeting Chay out front. I bought a bottle and downed half of it before turning and buying two more, one for Chay and another for me.

  “That’s an awful lot of water,” someone said behind me.

  “Well, I’m awfully thirsty,” I answered.

  “I guess so.”

  I turned and whatever I was about to say died on my lips. Rod. I hadn’t seen him since the night of the fight.

  “Excuse me.” I tried to push past him.

  He grabbed my arm. The water I held fell, the plastic bottles bouncing against the tile floor before rolling away. “Where are you going?”

  “Let. Go. Of. Me,” I said, over-enunciating each word. I tried to sound fierce, but my insides were jiggling like a bowl of Jell-O.

  “You know you’re playing with fire, right? He isn’t as tolerant as Azazel. I’m surprised he hasn’t done anything yet,” Rod said, reaching out and twirling a curl of my hair around his finger. I slapped his hand away.

  “Who?”

  “Abaddon, of course.”

  I hadn’t expected him to tell me, but at least now we knew for sure who was behind the threats.

  I stared at Rod. He had beady eyes that were set just a little too far apart from his long, pointed nose. His hair was a dirty blond and was too long in back, reminding me of a mullet.

  “Nothing to say? He knows you know about him. What you don’t know is who he has working for him.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “Now what fun would it be if I told you? But, I will give you a hint. It’s someone you trust. Someone you’ll never see coming,” Spittle spewed from his mouth when he talked. A slow, disgusting smile curved his too-thin lips.

  “I don’t believe you.” I tried to jerk my arm free. He dug his fingers harder into my flesh.

  “You’re gonna die, you know? It’s a shame, really.”

  He bent his head forward and gave me a quick peck of a kiss. His lips were mushy and soggy, and his breath smelled like the chili the cafeteria served for lunch the day before.

  When he pulled his head back, I smacked him hard against the face with my free hand.

  The side of his face reddened from my slap. “Hmm, I think I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer.”

  “Let her go,” Xavier demanded behind me.

  Rod dropped his hand. “Whatever, man. It’s all good.” He bent down and picked up my water bottles from the floor. It was all I could do to keep from kicking him in the face. He handed me the bottles. “Tick-tock, Milayna.”

  I slapped him again… just because I wanted to and because the thought of his kiss made my skin crawl.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

  He laughed. “I’ll see you tonight.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the exit where he came face to face with Chay. “Hey, man.” Rod slapped Chay on the back like they were buddies.

  Chay’s face was set in hard planes as he watched Rod leave.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t jump in,” I said to Chay.

  “You had it under control.” He looked up, saw Xavier, and nodded, just a slight tip of his head in Xavier’s direction.

  A ghost of a smile touched Xavier’s lips before he turned and walked away.

  Chay walked to me. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Nah. Just yapped a little.”

  He studied my face. I was afraid he was going to challenge me. I was relieved when he bent and kissed me gently. It was so much nicer than the grotesque kiss Rod had given me.

  ***

  That night, I stared at them as they stared at the house. Darkness engulfed me. I knew they couldn’t see me, but it felt like their eyes were boring straight into my soul.

  It wasn’t just Jake this time. He brought a friend. I was sure it was Rod, although the streetlight cast his face in eerie shadows so it was hard to tell.

  I watched them for what seemed like hours, but was probably just a few minutes before I heard a light rap on the back door. I knew who it was before I stood to open it.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  “I came to see what they’re doing,” Chay answered, nodding toward the street.

  “So far they’re just staring, like they’ve been every night this week.”

  “They’ve been here every night? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Actually, they haven’t been here. This is the first time the second guy has been here. I think it’s Rod, but I can’t be sure. Jake’s been here every night, though.”

  “You should have told someone, Milayna.” Stalking into the living room, he dropped down on the couch to wait and watch.

  “They’re leaving.” I watched them wander down the street. “They must have seen you come over.”

  “Maybe.” Chay sat on the couch a few minutes longer. When he was relatively certain they weren’t coming back, he stood and walked to the door. “Bye.” He slipped outside and jogged across the yard to the fence separating our houses. Jumping effortlessly over it, he made his way back home.

  Not a kiss, not a hug, not even a decent goodbye. What’s up with him?

  I had another dream that night. In it, Muriel and Chay were talking, just like in all of my visions. They stood in my backyard. The hobgoblins ran between their legs, laughing.

  Muriel was upset about something Chay said. She yelled at him. He smiled. She raised her hand and slapped him. Still, he smiled. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Muriel’s hands moved animatedly as she yelled back, her face red and her neck muscles straining.

  Milayna.

  I jumped up. It was just a whisper, just a faint sound, but unmistakable. They were fighting about me.

  Pushing my hair back, I covered my face with both hands. I let out a breath. Slowly, I lay back in bed and pulled the quilt over me. I was tired, so tired. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind churned with images of Chay and Muriel fighting and the single whispered word I was able to hear.

  ***

  “We need to talk,” Chay said the moment he saw me in chem class. He didn’t say hello, nor did he kiss or even touch me.

  “Okay. What about?”

  “Later. Go for a drive after school?�
�

  Chay. Blood.

  The images rang through my mind so fast I almost missed them. “Sure.”

  Knife. Muriel and Chay fighting. Demons.

  I was having a variation of the same vision every time I was near Chay. It worried me. I bit my lip, wondering what, if anything, they were trying to tell me. I didn’t believe he would hurt me. There was another reason for the images of knives and Chay’s bloody hands. There had to be.

  The school day dragged on and on. It was torture. Chay barely spoke to me. He carried my books to each class like he normally did, but he didn’t talk and he didn’t touch me. He was robotic in his motions, unfeeling, uncaring, and distant.

  Finally the last bell of the day rang. I met Chay outside the gym door, and we walked to my locker to get my things before going to his. He grabbed his coat and keys, slamming his locker door shut.

  “Let’s go.” He turned and walked away.

  I hurried to catch up to him, jogging down the hall to match his long strides. “What’s up, Chay? You’re starting to make me nervous.” He didn’t answer.

  When we got to his car, he opened the door for me and I got in, scooting the mountain of burger wrappers and fast food cups onto the floor.

  He walked around the back of the car. I watched him in the side mirror. His face was hard, determined, and I felt the cold hand of dread squeeze my heart. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I could feel it. I was afraid of what waited at the end of the ride.

  I looked down at my left hand, fingering the simple gold band on my finger, tracing his name etched in the metal next to mine.

  We drove in silence to my house. I tried several times to start a conversation. He’d either answer with one word or ignore me altogether. I gave up and waited for him to decide to talk. As soon as we parked in my driveway, he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

  “What’s wrong?” I reached for his hand. He moved it out of reach. I fisted my hand and felt the cold sting of his rejection flow through my veins straight to my heart and freeze there.