“Darkness approaches, and my task is to prepare you for battle. Your task is to let me. I can’t do that when you’re letting yourself get eaten up by guilt. Now, stop sulking and get out of bed. You must be able to guard yourself and not rely on me for everything.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms as the chilled air met bare flesh. Quinn glared at Azrael, who held the duvet in his fist.
“I’m tired.” She crossed her arms and pushed her lip out.
“All the better. Demons don’t care if you’re tired.” He took a step back and drew a sword with his free hand. “They eat tired for lunch. Even now, I see at least a dozen holes in your barrier.” He flourished the golden blade. “Have you learned nothing?”
“Perhaps there is a problem with your teaching methods.” She snatched at the duvet, but Azrael was quicker.
A blur of black wings and golden light flashed past her as Azrael darted to the far corner and took his battle stance. “I assure you my teaching methods are sound. It’s your attitude that’s the problem.” With his other hand, he dangled the duvet in challenge. “You want it? Come and get it.” Dropping the cover to the ground, he unsheathed the other sword hanging from his right hip. The markings etched on its metal blazed as it cleared the scabbard. A whirlwind of blue and gold flared as Azrael advanced, swords twisting and spinning in a bright flourish around him.
Quinn scrambled away until her back pressed against the headboard. Azrael slashed the golden blade down across her shoulder. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she threw an invisible barrier up with her mind, deflecting the attack, but not before the sword’s tip grazed the fabric of her T-shirt, ripping a small hole in the sleeve. Her favorite Skipping Zombies band T-shirt, ruined.
“Hey! You could have cut me!”
“But I didn’t.”
The barrier of light surrounding her quivered as Azrael’s essence bumped against her protective wall, testing, looking for a way in.
“You must not hesitate. Once they breach your protective barrier, it will crumble and leave you defenseless.” The pressure grew as he pushed harder, his intent clear. Her palms were slick with sweat as she resisted, willing him, commanding him to stay out of her thoughts. The sound of her ragged breath overtook her rapid heartbeat. He was strong, but she was determined.
“Better.” The pressure eased, and he grinned. “You must be strong of mind. That is the most important.” He circled the bed, one sword poised above his head, the other in front of his chest in a defensive posture. “Add that to a strong body, and you’ll be twice as deadly.”
Lunging forward, he slashed low at her leg. Quinn jumped from the bed and rolled out of his reach and crouched behind him. Years of cheerleading were coming in handy. Azrael turned for another attack, but Quinn was ready.
Focusing all her energy into the command, she directed it in the form of a telepathic dart straight at Azrael. He stopped, left arm frozen above his head, swords poised to strike. She sensed his resistance as he fought against her command. His whole body vibrated with frustration, but he couldn’t break free.
Azrael’s chest heaved as he pushed against her control one last time. She held firm, and finally, sensing his compliance, released him. The lighted blades dimmed as he slammed them back into their scabbards. “It seems you’ve been practicing.”
“Don’t look so annoyed.” Quinn smiled wryly.
“I am not annoyed. I am surprised.” Azrael smiled back at her, and she thought she saw pride behind his eyes. “I still say you’re too lazy when it comes to your defenses.”
Quinn’s phone vibrated somewhere beneath the pile of bedding on the floor. She pressed a finger to her lips to shush her Sentinel. An amused look played across Azrael’s face. He was so real to her that she sometimes forgot nobody else could hear or see him.
Rolling her eyes, she dug for the phone. It buzzed again, urgent and angry as a hive of bees. Reese’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hey,” Quinn answered.
“Hey. Sorry, I know it’s early. Did I wake you?”
Quinn looked at Azrael. “No, not really.”
“My dad just got home. He’s been over at the Colliers’ most of the night.” Reese’s voice was thick and hollow on the other end.
Quinn held her breath and chewed on her thumbnail, afraid to ask. “Did they find something?”
Azrael shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he knew what Reese was about to say. Quinn glared at him, pointed to the ceiling, and mouthed the word “go,” her intent perfectly clear. Azrael bowed low. His dark wings filled the room as he launched into the air and ghosted through the roof of her bedroom.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Reese went silent, and she could hear her swallowing on the other end.
“Just say it.” Quinn’s heart sank.
“They’re calling it off.”
Another round of silence.
“Did you hear me, Quinn?”
Quinn nodded to the phone in response. Her voice had drifted away, and she wasn’t sure how to retrieve it. Quinn stared at the map of Westland pinned to her closet door. Bluebonnet Creek ran through the center. A grid separated the map into tiny squares, and red X’s marked the spots that had already been searched. She ripped the map from the wall, wadded it into a ball, and squeezed, her fist tightening around the paper like Reese’s words had squeezed her heart.
“Volunteers finished searching late yesterday.” Reese sighed. “There’s nothing left to do. They’re going to drag the river one last time this afternoon.”
Quinn’s hands shook, while Reese sounded miles away. Five weeks, two days, eight hours. The only proof he might still be out there was a fading dream, and the echo of an electric connection that no longer existed. Nobody else truly believed he might still be alive.
Quinn pressed her fists to her eyes to stop the flow of tears. Hollowness seeped into her.
“I want to watch them,” she blurted.
“Watch what?”
“Them drag.” All anyone was likely to find was the bloated, white flesh of a boy she used to know, but her heart couldn’t let it go. Not yet. If Aaron was dead, why did she have such a gnawing feeling that he needed her?
“I don’t think … ”
“For closure. What time are they starting?” Quinn tucked the phone between her shoulder and cheek and grabbed a pair of yoga pants from the pile of clean clothes stacked on her dresser.
Reese sighed deep and long before replying. “Sometime around noon.”
“Okay. That gives me time to get to the gym before I swing by and pick you up.”
“What? No. You need to go to school. With me. You remember school, don’t you? That place where all your friends go every day? Come with me, and we’ll go together after.”
It was the same thing every day. Reese insisted she come back to school, and Quinn refused. Guilt stabbed at her gut, but she couldn’t face the crowded halls and sidelong looks, not yet. “I’m not ready.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Reese hung up before Quinn could even inhale for a response. Crap. Alienating everyone she loved and making things worse, that was Quinn’s true gift. A few minutes ago, she had wanted nothing more than to be alone, to think through everything that had happened, but now all she wanted was her best friend. Angry tears slid down her cheeks. If she could have punched herself in the face, she would.
You can’t have it both ways, Quinn.
Quinn: I’m sorry.
Her fingers typed and hovered over the Send button. Two words never looked so hollow, so inadequate. Each letter disappeared with the press of the back button.
Quinn: I know, I suck. I’ll try to suck less, I promise. Please meet me there at four. I can’t do this without you.
Send.
Chapter Four
Quinn wiped sweat from her brow, hung the jump rope back on the hook, and dropped to the floor. “Eye of the Tiger” blared fro
m the gym speakers as she counted off a hundred push-ups. She loved how quiet the gym was between the pre-work crowd and those who spent their lunch hour on the long line of treadmills. Nobody to stare at her or to whisper and point at the one who’d caused Aaron Collier to jump in to save her only to lose his own life. The whole town praised Marcus and Aaron as heroes and looked at her with downcast eyes. What do you say to the girl whose death was traded for another’s?
Rolling on her back, she crunched her way through her usual twenty-minute ab workout. Preparing for the final part of her torture, an hour of kickboxing, she pulled a pair of gloves over her hands and faced her target. The heavy bag, covered in red vinyl, hung from a chain in the ceiling. Here it was just her, her grief, and the waiting shadows. That’s the way she liked it.
Gritting her teeth, she dropped her protective barrier and slammed a fist into the bag, basking in the pain.
Aaron kissing her beneath the stars.
Two more jabs in quick succession.
The look on his face when he found her with Jeff.
Another hard roundhouse left her ankle aching and probably bruised. Good.
Singing a song he’d written just for her.
Left hook.
Something moved in the corner of the gym, and the temperature dropped.
Right cross.
Regret and anger drew the demons out of hiding like mosquitoes looking for blood. Their dark essences reminded her of the moment before a storm, electric and dangerous.
Jab, jab, jab.
Tendrils of familiar fog coiled around the bag, swathing it in thick, gray strands. A side kick with the heel of her foot sent the heavy bag swinging in a wide arch, the smoke twisting and writhing around it.
Three dark shapes inched closer, materializing from the dissipating fog. Six pairs of orange eyes glowed in their small, feline-like bodies. Saliva dripped from their fangs, air rushed around their wings. Let them come, she thought, not even trying to keep them out.
Quinn dodged to the right and came at the bag from behind, landing another hard blow with her fist.
Killer. One demon materialized on her shoulder and hissed against her ear, its sulphur-laced breath so strong she gagged. It understood her secret, her shame. With it, she didn’t need to hide.
Azrael would not approve. How long would it take before their bond alerted him to her danger? One minute? Ten? He’d been called away on some secret mission to the angelic city of Arcadia, and she’d promised to lay low. If he even got a whiff of what she was up to, he would drop everything and return to her side.
One monster dug its claws into the red vinyl and hung upside-down, its forked tongue licked at the air to slurp at the negative emotion pouring from her.
Screw Azrael. This was her life, her powers. She could use them any way she wanted. Quinn aimed a right cross for the center of its body, but the demon blinked out before she made contact.
Another beast flew in.
That’s right, you bastards. Come on. Anger, regret, shame, she gave it all to them as they crawled inside her mind and magnified the bleakness living inside.
Left hook.
It disappeared in a puff of smoke before she could hit it.
So guilty. So much pain. We want it all. Give us more.
Two more roundhouse kicks, an uppercut, four jabs.
Another echo of laughter.
You never loved him.
Quinn slammed another fist into the bag. That was a lie. She had loved him, enough to let him go, to keep him from the demons, from her crazy.
You were a coward. You took the easy road, and look where that led.
The demons blinked and spiraled around the heavy bag, leaving long trails of gray wisps behind them. Each dodging her blows, magnifying her frustrations, and growing fat from her pain. Hungry, so hungry. They would never get enough.
He’s dead, and you’re alive. It should have been you at the bottom of that river. If it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t jumped, he wouldn’t have been in the water that night. You should have died, yet you live, and he’s gone.
All three converged in the center of her line of sight, a dark triangle of evil hanging in mid-air. Demons like these had urged her into the water, pecked at her hands, and forced her under the waves. They had pushed her into Jeff’s arms, made her believe that letting Aaron go would keep him safe, that choosing Jeff would make them go away. If she had listened to her heart instead of their lies, if she had been stronger, maybe Aaron would still be here. Azrael was right; they didn’t have any answers. She was guilty, but so were they, and she would make them pay.
Quinn pulled her arm back and slammed her fist through them. It hit the bag with a sickening crunch. Pain flooded her hand. The demons laughed and danced while Quinn gritted her teeth and ignored the numbness spreading down her fingers. Right cross, front kick, side, kick, dodge left, punch left. Her breaths grew ragged, the room swam, but she kept lashing out, pouring her whole self into more punishing blows. The demons dodged and weaved between impacts, gorging on her frustrations. Sweat dripped into her eyes; she wiped it away with a gloved hand.
“Hey, Blondie, I think that bag’s had enough punishment for today.” Two strong hands attached to a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Annoying grabbed the bag and stopped it swinging. She’d seen him before at the reception desk, cleaning equipment, and occasionally training a girl with short brown hair whose outfits got skimpier every workout.
“I’ll say when it’s had enough. And don’t call me ‘Blondie.’” Quinn tried to ignore him and took another swing, landing one just shy of one of his fingers.
“Well, you are blond, aren’t you, Blondie? Or is that from a bottle?”
The demons laughed. If they thought this creep was funny, she didn’t. She lashed out at a demon hovering over the Everlast logo embossed on the red vinyl, but as always, it was too quick. Not that her fist could do any real damage to dark spirits from the Underworld. They weren’t even corporeal. But it felt good to try, to kick the crap out of something.
“That was seriously poor form.”
Quinn’s jaw tightened, and a ball of fury burned in her belly. If this guy wasn’t careful, she might “accidentally” miss the target and sweep his leg instead.
“Your hips are out of line, and your stance is all wrong.” Mr. Arrogant circled her, studying her every move. His toffee-colored eyes raked across her body, and she suddenly wished she’d worn more than just yoga pants and a sports bra.
“Nobody asked you.” Quinn glanced at the nametag attached to the almost-too-tight red 4 Ever Fit T-shirt. Caleb. Well, she would be sure to complain about Caleb’s rudeness to the manager.
“I could show you some moves, if you want. If you’re going to keep skipping school to come here and punish your body, you should at least do it correctly. I won’t even charge you. What do you say, Blondie?”
“No thanks, I don’t need any help from a meathead who didn’t get good enough grades to go to college.” Quinn glared at him. “Besides, don’t you have some stay-at-home-mom to whip into shape?”
“Looks like your bark is just as fierce as your bite. Just so happens those stay-at-home moms are paying for my biochemistry degree. Some of us don’t have rich parents who let us skip school to sulk every day.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Sick of the demon game, she pictured a bubble of light surrounding her, cutting them off from their meal. They hissed and backed into the corner, and Quinn smiled. She was in full control.
“Despite my meathead status, I read quite well. And even if I didn’t, you look exactly like your picture, Quinn.”
“I think I preferred it when you called me ‘Blondie.’” She turned away, yanked a glove from her hand, and winced. Her knuckles had split. Blood dripped from the tips of her fingers.
“That’s what happens when you don’t wrap your hands before you start wailing. Plus, those gloves are too thin for heavy bag work.”
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“It’s fine. Just a little cut.”
“It will get infected if you aren’t careful.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just trying to do my job. How can we continue to take your money if you injure yourself and cancel your membership?” Caleb pulled a small tube from the pocket of his sweatpants and threw it at her. “Use this at least.”
Quinn mumbled her thanks and made her escape to the locker room.
“What was that?” Caleb called to her before she opened the door.
“Thank you, Meathead,” she replied over her shoulder, putting all the sarcasm she could behind her words.
“You’re welcome, Blondie.”
The heavy wooden door to the women’s changing room swung closed. Leaning against the wall, she rolled the tube of antibacterial ointment between her fingers then tossed it into the trash.
Quinn half-smiled and nodded at the dark-haired woman changing into tight-fitting spandex shorts and made her way to her locker to retrieve her towel. Caleb’s next victim. Good luck to her.
Quinn checked her phone. Still no reply from Reese. Her best friend would be sitting in homeroom right now, probably flirting with Marcus and sharing the latest gossip with Ami. A pang of jealousy pinched at her heart. If only it were that easy for her to go back to being normal. What was normal? She couldn’t remember.
Quinn wrapped the white cotton towel tight around her chest, tucking one end snugly against the other to hold it in place, and slipped on her flip-flops. No matter how clean the gym might look, who knew what kind of fungus lurked on the wet floor. Water dripped in the empty shower stall. She reached in, set the handle midway between hot and cold, and waited for it to warm up.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Quinn jumped and whirled around.
“You can’t be in here,” she hissed and pulled her towel tighter around her. Drops of red dotted the edge, evidence of her injured hand. She looked at the ground and tried to hide it behind her back.
Pretty Dark Sacrifice Page 2