As if reading my thoughts he did just that. He moved even closer and our eyes locked. My breath was coming quicker, my heart was hammering in my chest, but my hands were cool. The daemon fire beneath my skin quieted. His hand moved slowly, like touching a dangerous animal, to my cheek. He ran the backs of his fingers slowly from my temple to my bottom lip. Goosebumps covered my skin making the tattoo on my neck come alive again.
His touch was infectious.
He was a breath away from my lips when he ruined the moment, “Are you sure you don’t care who I am?”
I opened my eyes, appalled that I had even shut them, and pulled myself back. I studied him again, thinking back to all the demonic members of the Vile and the angelic beings who made up the Virtuous- but he was from neither of those. He felt like me, like Orrin. And then it hit me.
He was different. He wasn’t an angel or daemon. He was Vulgar- like me. That was a half-blood, born of both worlds.
“Exactly,” He grinned.
Is he…did he just…how can he…?
He laughed again, mocking me, enjoying my discomfort. “That was a few you just threw at me, but let me just say to your unspoken questions: Yes I am, yes I just did, and I can hear your thoughts because like you, I am part angel.”
3
I turned, like a coward, and walked away before he could ask for my help. He knew how to keep me. He knew how to make me his. I hated that part of my birthright. If anyone, creature, human or otherwise, asked me for my help I was compelled to do whatever was in my power to aid them. Few people knew the secret to of the Beacon. Many just sought me out because I was willing to help them. Angels, daemons and humans in need seemed to find their way to me without even knowing who I was.
It was irritating. I wanted to rake my nails down their innocent faces, string them up by their feet and bleed every last drop of live force from their needy corpse- but the Beacon couldn’t do that. I had to suppress my daemon so I could help the world. It was a raw deal.
Could you help me, please? Once those words were out, I was powerless to resist. I needed to move, I needed to breathe, and I needed to get the hell out of this crowded campus before I snapped.
The war within me had become unmanageable. I helped people because I was the Beacon- my one unavoidable destiny. It was either that or give in to the darkness and rain destruction down on all of mankind, and that choice was unacceptable. I had shared this burden with one other soul. In the short time we were actually together, Orrin taught me how to control my birthright, my pyrokenesis, and also how to focus my thoughts so my darkness wasn’t so scary. Focusing was easier to do when he was around. I focused on him. On us.
Without him I drank copiously to control my daemon to ensure I would help people instead of kill them. I tamped down on the rage that flowed within me, the ever-present fire just waiting for my capitulation. My incessant drinking made me pretty unpopular in the human world. The alcohol made my voices go away too. My daemon was subdued, but I was unable to feel my mother’s presence.
I knew she was always near, just like she threatened- I mean promised. I’m sure she knew and disapproved, but I didn’t care much. I had never felt more alone. There was no other choice at the time.
Being a drunkard also made me less approachable which was a bonus. Humans, at least, didn’t want help from a lush like me. I never minded helping people before my daemon days, but now that the compulsion was so strong, it brought pain along with it. That string around my heart that I once tied to Orrin, now just felt like a leash that any random person could just pick up.
Just grab my leash and I’m yours.
My freedom, my love and my life was a delusion. Darkness was my companion. The alcohol was the only freedom from the darkness, the need, and my own damning conscience that kept me riddled with guilt. It seemed nothing was real anymore. For that matter, was anything I had been through real at all? I jumped from one illusion into another, crawling through in an endless desert of mirage after mirage. My actions held no real meaning. I was lost.
I walked through the student parking lot and reached for the large bottle in my bag. Today it was vodka, but I wasn’t partial. Anything would do to dull my pain. I wondered if there was still an out clause. Could I give it all up? Could I give up my power? My birthright? My soul? How could I end my torment and keep the world safe?
The sharp liquid cut through the agony like knives sliding down my throat. The pain appeased my daemon and brought tears to my eyes. I checked my watch. Ben would be at home for the rest of the morning.
My best friend always made me laugh when nothing else would. And the best thing about Ben- she never asked for my help. I’m not sure why, maybe it was because she knew I would give it anyway. We had an unspoken connection, like best friends, even though we had only met our senior year of high school. She knew about Orrin and Ava.
She still thought I was human.
No matter. I told her about meeting Heath in Balmorhea. She never questioned my hasty trip from Providence. Bennet Taylor was my rock. If this was the kind of love I could have then I guess I was blessed. But it wasn’t enough to keep my daemon happy.
No one was near. The parking lot was surprisingly empty for mid-morning. I turned my backpack until it was flat against my stomach. Before I could think twice, I pushed my wings free. They groaned in protest as if they too were hungover. I pushed off, uncaring if anyone saw.
I was impossibly fast, a speck in the sky in less than a second. I had no destination in mind and wasn’t due in for work until after twelve. My afternoon was booked too with my new study group-but that was the future. The future was a shadow. It was an enigma that held no emotion. It was the present that left me hollow.
I licked my lips remembering the stranger- the angel, I almost kissed. I didn’t even know his name, but I knew definitively he was there for me and he was no threat, except to my thin shell of sanity.
I flew farther, faster, the steady pump of my wings like healing music to my soul. And just like so many times before my weightlessness brought me peace. If I could only keep my wings free, fly freely wherever I chose, the battle within me would have been easier to endure. Flying brought me a sense of peace like none other. There was no drug, no man, no place which could compare.
I looked down at the landscape passing by, like little brown squares stitched together on a quilt. My aimless wandering let my mind wander too. It searched for peace. I longed to see my dad, visit with my mom. It was past time I got my act together, I just couldn’t seem to remember existing without the alcohol. It had taken the place of my daemon and become the true darkness in my life.
Where am I?
The sun had traveled high above me and I sobered remembering the time. When I took off from the parking I had no place in mind, but now the hills had flattened. The horizon called to me like nothing else, pulling me farther north. With a moment of clarity I recognized the dry nothingness that was west Texas.
Balmorhea.
My soul always sought him out heedless of any better judgement.
With the flick of my wings, I stopped, holding my position in the air. I wanted Orrin even still. I hated him for leaving me, for choosing Daisy over me. I loathed that I still needed him. I resented the pull more now than ever.
Being without Orrin wasn’t what I thought it would be. I knew I would never overcome it, I had learned to live with the loss, the way people learn to live with a missing limb. His daemon father, Orias, had once told me I would lose all control if we were separated. But his lie was only an attempt at winning his son back to his side. He was willing to use trickery like every other daemon. Having a conscience was not something he was burdened with. Orrin was riddled with vanity and a quick temper. He had hurt me repeatedly, but I always forgave him. I didn’t know if that made me pitiable or admirable- either way it made me miserable. Maybe this is what Orias meant- I would feel the desolation without Orrin. I would know true sorrow.
No, no, that’s not right
. What are we truly upset about?
The question came from my daemon whose usually sluggish questions were silenced by the alcohol, but this time it was loud and resolute in the silence of the sky. Was I upset about losing Orrin or was I upset about being the Beacon?
I was the most powerful being on the Earth and I had no choice in actions.
Is that really true?
I looked at the small city barely visible thought the sandy haze of the west Texas sky. Did Orrin know I was feeling this way? Did he miss me? Was he married yet? That was always the plan between him and Daisy. I couldn’t bear the thought. We had a deeper connection than any Earthly ceremony, but that didn’t make the torturous days pass any faster.
The present was yet another interminable daemon I could not suppress.
***
I set myself down in the back of the Coffee Shack. I had been serving coffee there for three years. No one ever paid attention to me when I was a barista. They were too busy deciphering the large confusing menu hanging above my head. People rarely looked me in the eye and I enjoyed the anonymity. Getting lost in the mindless work of taking orders, cleaning tables, pouring coffee was soothing. As long as I was behind the counter, the only kind of help people looked for was either a refill or directions to the bathroom.
I took out my phone to check the time, knowing I was still early for work. Swiping my finger across the screen, I felt a shock zip through my hand. The screen turned white and began to blink. Long lines of strange letters began to fly across the screen. It was like looking at an eBook in fast forward. My cell began to smoke and the screen cracked.
I looked at my hand knowing I had just melted my own phone but my skin was still cool. The heat hadn’t been generated by me. I pushed the power button one more time in vain. The screen powered on revealing three black curved lines slicing across the screen. They faded through a final time, my phone giving one last pitiful goodbye. Unlike most people I didn’t have any social media accounts. I kept up with my two friends and my father. Attachments were dangerous.
Irritated, I thought nothing more of it and threw my phone in the dumpster in the back of the building and sought refuge in the familiar aroma of coffee beans.
4
“Large half-caf mocha latte, hold the whip.” I wrote down the order and handed it to another barista behind me working the coffee machine today. I hated working the counter because I had to speak to people. I would rather work the machines or bus tables
“Three eighty three,” I said blandly, looking over her shoulder at the long line of coffee junkies. Most were underclassmen. Their skinny jeans, infinity tattoos, thick black hipster glasses didn’t make them enlightened, it just made them idiotic.
I punched in orders for another two hours and then grabbed a coffee of my own. If there was not liquor available I could survive the next few hours with coffee. My five classmates were already gathered around a scarred coffee table, each sitting in dilapidated, mismatched chairs and benches. I made my way over bringing my own backpack and stool.
I had no idea what they wanted to discuss, having no idea myself what the final was going to be over. I had finished my thesis already, and read every scrap of British literature from the past five hundred years during the past few years. I had a photographic memory and more space in my brain than the hard drive on all their computers put together- I wasn’t concerned about passing a solitary test. I stayed in school to conform, to be normal, and to give my father something human to be proud of. Finishing my Master’s degree was not important to me. With my abilities and memory, I far surpassed every college professor on this campus.
I looked at the group blandly and they waited for me to speak. I shrugged my shoulders and gulped my coffee.
The woman, a little older than I, Abigail, I thought, pulled out a stack of rumpled paper and showed me her hand-written notes. “This is my synopsis of the entire semester, the major authors, themes, historical importance, and cultural influences they had on society.”
I read through them. This girl should be leading the group. She was a natural leader, a teacher even, she had a way about her. What she lacked was confidence.
“You don’t need my help,” I offered. “These notes are perfect. Dr. Gaines will be looking for those exact things. If you memorize all of this you should be okay.”
I made to leave, another spoke, “What? Memorize this? We can’t memorize an entire semester. What do you think will be on the test specifically?”
I sighed and gave it a little more thought. Dr. Gaines was the only professor that put real thought into her tests. She wanted students not only to learn facts in her class, she taught literature, which meant it was to be thought over. Opinions must be formed, emotions must be analyzed, and stories must be felt.
I picked up a copy of someone’s Canterbury Tales and scoffed, I read this in high school. “Focus on Chaucer, Moore, Marlow, and Bacon. You need to not only look at their writing but formulate your own opinions on them. Don’t rely on another author to tell you if something is good. After you’ve read their work, which I know you have all already done, formulate your own opinions. Words are only valid if you give them validity. Dr. Gaines will gear her test towards that. Can you validate their writing? Can today’s world still find validity in classic British literature? I can’t help you more than that.”
I handed Abigail back her notes and softened my words, “These notes are good, but they’re nothing more than that. Notes, dates, facts- that isn’t enough. Do more, dig harder to find meaning and the motivation behind the author’s words.”
They all stared at me. I opened my backpack and took out a small dark bottle and added the liquid to my coffee. I didn’t even try to hide it. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I sat back and waited for what they would ask next.
“I can make copies if you like?” Abigail looked toward the group and many nodded their heads. Two of them were scanning their laptops reviewing their own notes from previous lectures. Abigail stood up to use the ancient coin-fed copier in the corner of the shack. I dug my earbuds out of my bag and then remembered my phone was sitting in the dumpster out back. Instead I stared at the study group that was now ignoring me completely and sipped my spiked latte.
“What the…” a woman across the table mumbled. She peered deeper at her computer screen hunching her shoulders intently.
“Oh, my God!” I heard Abigail yell from behind me. She was fanning smoke from her face which was quickly rising from the copier.
Disconcerting voices rose around me. Phones, tablets, and laptops alike were all malfunctioning. I pulled the laptop directly out of my study-buddy’s hands. It was flashing a white screen just like all the other devices.
Just like my cell phone.
The strange letter flew across the screen, flashed, danced up and down, but I wasn’t scrolling or moving the mouse. There was a chaos happening within the Coffee Shack.
“Is it the Wi-Fi?” someone behind me asked.
“I’m not even hooked up,” another voice said.
The haywire lasted seconds, but to everyone it felt much longer. The laptop perched on my legs heated up. My neighbor grabbed it back from me, so sure I was guilty of the malfunction, and hollered. He dropped the device onto the floor and was staring at the burns on his palms.
I jumped up knowing there was something larger at play here. I wasn’t sure it was mischief or malice, but it needed to stop before someone sustained serious injury. But my thoughts came too late. The explosion behind the counter rocked the entire room.
People flooded out the doors abandoning their broken computers and phones that were either melted or too hot to touch. I ran to the explosion. No one asked for my help this time, and I didn’t wait for an invitation. Nothing about this felt random or accidental.
I hurdled the counter and dodged the long shards of metal that used to be the cappuccino machine. It had just exploded leaving my co-worker bleeding on the floor. Before touching her, I stood making sure
I was alone.
Abigail stepped back through the doorway, the glass crunching under her feet.
“Call 9-1-1,” I yelled, hoping her phone hadn’t been affected.
But my hopes fell as Abigail’s face rippled, like a mirage, revealing the true face of a Vagabond, a lesser daemon. Her smile morphed into an inhuman grin at the scent of the blood that was spilling onto the floor. It licked its lips but it made no move to attack.
“Don’t you even think about it.”
Its eyes focused back on me. “I bring you a message.”
“I don’t care about your message,” I yelled returned my attention back to the human dying in front of me.
It moved with an inhuman speed. I shuddered at the horrid stench of its breath, like rotten flesh. It touched my hair, inhaling. “Your blood would taste so much sweeter, and last much longer.”
“Get out of here.” I ground out.
“I will,” the vagabond moved around and continued to smell me, “But first my message.”
“Whatever.”
Its voice was thick and slippery, “I will have you or I will have him. In the end there is no difference.”
The words were repeated two more times and I lost interest. I quit paying attention as I could no longer hear the dying woman’s breaths.
Jessie or Joann, I couldn’t remember her name lay limp on the floor. I moved her hair aside revealing her name tag.
Jamie. Points for being close.
Her pulse was still strong, but she had a large piece of the cappuccino machine wedged into her sternum. I grimaced and rubbed my own chest, knowing I would have to yank it out. I mentally counted to three and tugged.
I put my hand directly over the red liquid oozing from deep opening in her chest. Jamie began to open her eyes, and I put my freehand over her fluttering lids. Her hysterics wouldn’t add to the situation.
The Lariat (Finding Justus Series) Page 2