by Jaime Reed
Her handbag thumped on the counter while she scanned around for the prey that had vanished from sight. Disappointed, she narrowed her icy gray eyes at me. “Hi. You’re in my Spanish class. Sam, right?”
“Sí,” I said, deadpan. I couldn’t believe this chick. We’d shared at least two classes since sixth grade and she still didn’t know my name?
“Is that, like, short for Samantha?”
“No.” I pointed to my name tag.
“Oh. My bad. Anyway, you know that hot guy that works here, Caleb something?” She looked around the store.
Tapping my finger to my lips, I contemplated. “Six-foot-two, brown hair, purple-blue eyes, always smells like cake? Yeah, that would be my boyfriend.” I stressed the last word.
“Oh!” She looked surprised for a moment, appalled even, then swept a cursory glance up my frame. “Well, maybe you can help. I was wondering if you could talk him into deejaying my party on Halloween. He did such a great job at Robbie Ford’s birthday party; I’d love to have him, um, spin for me.” She twirled a lock of hair around her manicured finger.
I should be used to women drooling all over my man, but that would require more patience than I could afford. “I’ll be sure to run it by him, but it would be more businesslike coming from you. You can find him in the music section. That way.” I pointed to the other end of the store using my middle finger, a gesture too blatant to overlook.
Applying loud suction, Courtney slid her tongue over her teeth, perhaps to see if her fangs elongated. “Thanks. Doesn’t seem to be your kind of thing, but I’ll see if I can add you to the guest list too.” With a neck-spraining flip of the hair, she flounced away.
Resting my weight against the counter, I exhaled slowly, absorbing the sting of her verbal attack. This was an interesting turn of events. Courtney’s Halloween bashes were the talk of school, but unlike Robbie Ford’s parties, hers were for the A-list only. Mia would be so jealous if I got an invite before she did. The only downside was subjecting Caleb to that harpy’s whims.
This was a good opportunity for him. Soon he would leave his position here to “scratch” with full force, but his budding deejay career already left us juggling schedules to see each other. Music was the mistress in our union, the only love I didn’t mind sharing with him.
“Is she gone?” A timid voice came from the kitchen.
When I confirmed that she was, Alicia crept out, a wash of relief ran across her face. I shook my head, knowing this doe-eyed sophomore needed more life experience and pessimism to survive high school. The mother hen in me wanted to keep her innocence intact, so my watchful eyes were never far from her.
Seeing her trepidation, I said, “If it gets too bad, you have my number, okay?”
“Thanks.” She gave me a weak smile and went back to the register.
Though I only worked a few five-hour shifts during the weekdays, time seemed to run at a snail’s pace. Alicia tried her best to entertain me with the latest gossip, but it didn’t seem the same with Nadine gone. Nothing was the same with her gone.
I found myself comparing Alicia to Nadine, noting how she took forever to wrap the food when we closed, where it would only take Nadine ten minutes. Alicia chatted and laughed with the customers, whereas they had been considered lucky if they got service, let alone a smile, from Nadine. Alicia was an old friend and I would flip out if something happened to her, but the injustice prevailed.
That fact prevented me from finding closure, and I kept picking that scab until it bled. Time might patch it up, but the open wounds remained untreated and at risk of infection. Even if I’d known all that would happen, would it have made a difference? If Nadine hadn’t died in my arms, Lilith wouldn’t have needed to abandon ship and move into my crib. Maybe Lilith was her farewell gift, a secret she entrusted me to keep.
After shutdown, I clocked out at customer service, then ambled to the break room in an almost dreamlike state. Our monthly book club meeting was tonight, which was reason enough to wallow in sorrow, but seeing where Nadine had once sat deepened my depression another notch.
A part of me expected to see Nadine pass through the door, her blond hair bobbing behind her head in a haphazard bun. The staff’s seating arrangement was an unspoken rule, so I wasn’t the only one who paused at the empty folding chair by the soda machine. Even Linda, the store manager, shifted her eyes to the chair, as if an unholy curse awaited anyone who sat there.
I felt the gentle grip of a hand around my wrist, and that one touch caused my body to relax. Instantly, the doom-and-gloom atmosphere melted away, and in its place laid an intimate cocoon. I knew by heart that hand, and the senses that came with it: the warm sweetness of baked goods and a ton of nerve. Never mind butterflies: a colony of bats flapped inside my stomach, a rush of elation tightened my sternum.
Caleb smiled down at me as he guided me to the seats. He used his free hand to push back his hair only to have it tumble down and cover his face again. I watched the light brown strands fall in a slight curl by his jaw. A blazing amethyst hue filtered through the curtain of locks, a color that projected his mood and his spirit’s needs.
“It’s just a chair, Sam. It’s not haunted,” Caleb said and sat next to me.
“Not the chair, just us,” I mumbled as my mind drifted again to my belated friend.
Nadine’s life energy—the energy that came with Lilith—eventually dissolved, but the memories were kept on file for safekeeping—every birthday party, every bedtime story, every wild adventure, save one. It was strange how every facet of her life opened at the ready to me, all but that tiny blank spot of her history, a scene spliced during post-production.
To say Nadine had been a jaded woman would be a blatant understatement, but even she had loved deeply at some point, and the memory of it was hard to penetrate. This feeling I detected was far more dangerous than the ones she had for her family, a love that those with good sense shouldn’t have for a faceless man. So it shocked me that someone with a fairly decent, albeit morbid, head on her shoulders would entertain such mush. And not tell me about it! We used to tell each other everything.
The mystery distracted me through the meeting to the point where Caleb shook me to attention when it was over. I had completely lost track of time, not to mention I hadn’t gotten to share my book. While the crew filed out of the door, Alicia tossed me a parting glance, grinning in triumph.
Caleb extended his hand, then helped me to my feet. His smile produced broad dimples, two parentheses buried deep in his cheeks.
“What did I miss?” I asked.
“Alicia got her wish. Specter: Part III got voted book of the month. She went through a ten-minute dissertation of the intricacies of having a ‘totally hot’ ghost boyfriend.” Caleb mimicked Alicia’s squeaky voice perfectly. “You know there’s a movie coming out about it?”
“I heard.” I collected my bag, then followed him out.
After wishing everyone good night, I stepped into the cool night with Caleb practically stuck to my back. His arm wrapped around my waist and squeezed, lifting me off the ground. I squealed, which caused the crew to roll their eyes at us from the parking lot as he carried me to his Jeep.
A honking horn came from a blue SUV driving by. “Get a room!” Alicia yelled from the passenger-side window as her dad drove her away.
“That’s not such a bad idea,” Caleb whispered in my ear before kissing the back of my neck.
I wiggled against his hold. “That’s it. You are unfit to be in my company, sir.”
“Aw, come on! Don’t be that way.”
“Unhand me, contemptible cur! ’Else purge such lechery from thine purpose, you knave!”
Snorting a laugh, he set me down. “All right, Lady Macbeth, have it your way.”
I pressed against his car door and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “Nothing. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Oh, yeah? Does it ha
ve to do with your eye?” He grazed the fading bruise with his thumb.
On contact, the day’s events resurfaced as did the slight throb from my injury. “Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but I think I saw something today.” I told him about Malik, the Picture Day light show, and the ominous feeling that had come with it. Caleb stayed quiet until I finished, wearing an incredulous look on his face.
“Sam, Cambions don’t turn transparent in harsh light, and as far as I know there are no others like us in town. We’re kinda spread out for a reason. And you said you’ve known this guy for years and no warning bells have ever gone off, no strange-color eyes, no girls being rushed to the hospital, so I think you’re good on that front. But if it happens again, let me know, okay?” When I nodded, he asked, “Did you feed at all today? That might’ve been the cause of you seeing weird stuff.”
“I did afterward during lunch, but I hate feeding off of guys I know. I have to see them every day, and it’s awkward enough as it is. When I take in their energy, their memories come with it and they’re hard to get over. Most of them I block out, but others are too juicy to ignore. Don’t get me wrong, it has its privileges, but it gets real crowded up here, you know.” I tapped my temple, then rubbed my face. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to vent. My brain is all over the place. And I didn’t get to share my book.”
He leaned into me, getting good and comfortable, not in the slightest rush to leave. “Share it with me. What’s it called?”
I put a finger to my lips. “Shh. ”
He looked around the parking lot. “What?”
“No, that’s the title, Shh,” I explained. “It’s about angels and the battle between Heaven and Hell. According to Hebrew myth, an angel enters the womb of every pregnant woman and places a finger over the lips of the unborn child. They silence the baby from revealing the secrets of Heaven, including God’s true name. The proof of that secret is that small dent in your top lip.” My finger danced over the outline of his mouth, making him shiver. I could tell he felt the attraction, a pull rooting from the chest, joining our two magnets together.
Dropping my hand, I continued, “Anyway, this autistic boy doesn’t have that dimple. He’s a mute, but he’s been leaking secrets all through his writing and artwork. A group of angels come to Earth to kill the kid, because once heard out loud, humanity will remember the secrets told to them and all of Hell will break loose, literally. It’s a race against time because the kid starts mumbling in class out of nowhere.”
“Sounds good! Let me borrow that when you’re done.” His lids grew heavy as he inched closer.
I tried to push off his Jeep, but his nearness made it impossible. He was stalling, squeezing a few more minutes alone with me, but our time was running out.
“Did you want to come over to my place for a bit? I made a new playlist that you haven’t heard—” He stopped midsentence when I flashed my bracelet in his face.
The gold chain shimmered under the parking lot lights, creating a sufficient force field against his libido.
Caleb’s shoulders slumped under the weight of defeat. “I thought that was only activated for emergencies.”
“So did I, but Mom’s got it synched to her laptop to track where I am. Cambion or not, my curfew still applies until I’m eighteen and out the house. It’s just a safety measure. Can’t be too careful these days.” I offered him a gentle smile.
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled back and allowed me to pass.
Parked in the next row was a metallic gray Nissan Juke, my new ride—new being a relative term. It was new to me, and love allowed me to overlook the high mileage and stench of fried bologna that an entire bottle of Febreze couldn’t remove. It was mine and I had earned it, and that was enough for me.
I didn’t make it two feet before his hand caught my wrist and pulled me back into his arms.
“Caleb,” I whined, though I felt just as needy. “I have to go.”
“Well, am I at least allowed to kiss you? I’ve waited all day to do so. Indulge me.” He lowered his head for a kiss that never came.
The sound only had a second to register in my ears: soft at first, then louder as it drew closer—ending in an explosion not even a foot from where we stood. Natural instinct took effect and I ducked from the whoosh of air and sailing fragments of glass.
I hit the ground hard—scraping my knee on the pavement—and covered my face and eyes from the blast. Tiny shards rained on my head, over my shoulder, and tinkled against the concrete. Caleb’s body fell over mine; his weight crushed me as he withstood the brunt of the attack. It’s funny how situations can change. One minute, I held my boyfriend, the next I was on the ground, curled into a ball.
Once silence enclosed the parking lot again, Caleb stood up and assessed the damage. “Stay here,” he ordered.
Of course, I didn’t listen and I joined his side before he could open his door.
Not one, not two, but every window in Caleb’s Jeep was missing. What remained sat in the driver’s seat and formed a glittery ring around the vehicle. The weatherproof hardtop didn’t fare too well from the impact, seeing that it now laid upside down in the next row.
“What did that?” I asked. “I thought it was a bomb.”
Caleb circled the Jeep and peeked underneath its carriage. “Nothing else seems to be damaged, just the windows.”
I searched around the parking lot. All of the employees were gone, and only our cars remained. “Maybe some kid shot at the windows,” I suggested.
He whipped out his cell phone. As he dialed, his anger mounted with every punch and click. “It wasn’t a gunshot and it couldn’t have broken all the windows at once.” He used his free hand to push me away from the debris. While relaying the situation to the operator, he examined my hands and face for injuries.
If anyone needed medical attention, it was him. Tiny scratches tracked his left cheek and temple. Blood ran in a thin stream down his neck, seeping into the collar of his white polo shirt. He didn’t notice any of it; he seemed too distracted with plotting bloody vengeance.
Caleb was slow to anger, but he reached full hotness when he showed aggression and his eyes glowed bright lavender. Though the color was pretty, the carnage that followed that wondrous view was not. That was how Caleb’s “roommate” made his presence known and it was clear that Capone wasn’t happy with the situation, either.
I pulled away from him, not liking the storm brewing in those eyes. “I’m fine, but you need a doctor. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Ending the call, he regarded me with a furrowed brow, his lips tightened. “No. I need you to go home.”
Was he serious? “I’m not leaving you!”
“The hell you’re not. This is dangerous, and I want you away from it. The police should be here any minute. I’ll wait with the mall cop.” He tipped his chin to the security vehicle cruising its way toward us. “Now I want you to go straight home. No stops, no detours. Understand?”
“But I—”
“The longer you stay here and argue, the more you’ll have to explain to your mom. Now do you really want that? ’Cause we all know how laid-back and trusting she is. She wouldn’t mind her only daughter getting grilled by police at ten-thirty on a school night. Oh no, it wouldn’t freak her out at all.” He hid his smile behind pursed lips, because not even in sarcasm could he describe my mom as lax and keep a straight face.
I would’ve pointed that out, but that wouldn’t make him any less right. Mom didn’t play these days, constantly checking my comings and goings to the point where I couldn’t tell if I was grounded.
I was being pushed in the direction of my car, and I didn’t complain. In all honesty, I really wanted to get out of there. The night had a sharp sting to it, very dry, and my breath seemed to freeze before I could even push it out. The frigidness had little to do with temperature.
“Call me when this is over,” I said.
“No. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry about
me.” He took my keys to open my door, then lifted me in his arms for the kiss he had been denied. I knew he needed a distraction, so I obliged his brilliant attempt at redirection. Hell, I forgot my own name.
It wasn’t the softness of his lips that put me into full swoon mode, nor was it how he stole my breath and gave me his own. It was the way he held me like I would soon disappear, as if at any minute someone would rip me away from him. I understood the feeling. It had taken us months to achieve what so many took for granted, to share a simple kiss. Maybe we were making up for lost time, because every kiss felt like the first and the last we would ever have. We were Cambions, not cannibals, but I was willing to make an exception for Caleb. I wanted to eat this dude alive, starting with that plump bottom lip as my new chew toy.
Just when it was getting good, he ended the kiss and set me down. My body dragged down the length of his with agonizing slowness. I nipped his lip, his stern chin, his bobbing Adam’s apple, every spot I could reach before my feet settled back to earth.
“I’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll feel it if I’m not.” His lips rounded the curve of my cheekbone, planting a petal-soft kiss by my bruised eye.
Knowing exactly what he meant, I nodded at that small assurance. He waited for me to climb in my car and left no room for argument.
I revved the engine, then pulled out of the parking space. Peeling out of the lot, I watched his body grow small from the rearview mirror, and I fought the temptation to turn around. Only when I was two blocks from the shopping center did the pressure dissipate, though my heavy foot on the accelerator wasn’t taking any chances.
I rolled down the car window and breathed in the yeasty musk of Williamsburg. The heavy cloak of dread fell from my shoulders, and I could now ease my foot off the gas. But the discomfort lingered, its ghostly fingers creeping up my neck. There was no camera flash this time, but I heard the whisper in my ear to keep driving. The warning was louder, more insistent than the one before, yet it held a harsh undertone that seemed an awful lot like a threat.