“How long, what?” Quinn asked.
“How long have you been able to see them?” Caleb asked.
“Too long.” Quinn drew a lazy circle around the edge of the steering wheel considering how much she should tell him. “And can you banish them?”
“What? The demons? No. I only see them. Can you? Banish them, I mean?”
Quinn shrugged and stared at her hands. “Kind of.”
Caleb furrowed his brow and stared out the window where Azrael had settled on the hood. “And what about that angel with black hair, two swords at his hips, and the scowl that looks like it could melt pure steel? Is he with you?”
Quinn turned, opened mouthed, and gawked at Caleb.
“You mean you can see him too?”
Caleb shrugged and stared at his hands. “Sometimes.”
“So you knew he could see you?” Quinn didn’t even bother to talk to Azrael in her head. Why should she? There was nothing to hide anymore. “And you didn’t think to tell me that I wasn’t alone in this?”
“There was nothing to tell. The ability resides in all humans, but rarely manifests. As your kind evolved, the knowledge of good and evil that Adam and Eve carried in their blood when they were banished became watered down after hundreds of thousands of years of breeding. The gift was all but lost, deemed unnecessary. But like any recessive gene, it pops up in the odd place.”
“Are you talking to it?” Caleb looked truly shocked.
“What? You mean you can’t hear him?”
Caleb shook his head. “No. I only get glimpses of them sometimes. They don’t talk to me.”
“See, he is not like you, Quinn. His ability is limited, useless.”
“Well, it’s not useless to me. You saw me falling apart, alone, freaking out.” Quinn waved her fist in the air. “And you!” She directed her attention to Caleb. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wasn’t sure,” Caleb stammered. “It’s not like I go around telling everyone I see angels. You should get that.” Caleb lowered his voice. “Nobody would believe me anyway. I learned that the hard way.”
Quinn thought about Reese, about her reaction to even the slightest hint that Quinn was different, special. Here was someone who could understand her in a way nobody else could. Maybe she should trust him, let him in. She turned to Azrael because, for once, she actually wanted his advice.
“What do I know? I’m just your Sentinel.” Azrael ruffled his feathers, pulled the golden sword from his hip, and examined the blade. “But you tell him for me, if he puts you in peril, I will remove his essence from his body so fast he won’t even have time to blink.”
Quinn turned the engine on and slammed the car in reverse. Startled, Azrael took to the sky, circling above the car as she drove away.
“Azrael says he will kill you if you betray me.”
“At this rate, you’ll kill me first.” Caleb sank back in his seat, clutching the dash as she cut every sharp corner on the way back to the gym.
Ten minutes later, she brought the car to a stop in front of the 4 Ever Fit sign and turned off the engine.
“So, when was the first time you saw them?” Quinn asked.
“The first time I saw the shadows move, I was fifteen. My older sister brought her boyfriend to the house, a real nasty guy. They got into an argument, and the shadows started to shift and change. The angrier he got, the more demons appeared. I could see them feeding off him. One of the demons mimicked a fist, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I didn’t even stop to think. I leapt off the couch and stepped in front of my sister before he struck. The blow landed on the side of my head.” Caleb rubbed his left temple. “Knocked me out. The next thing I know, the cops are cuffing him and hauling him out of the house.”
“My God, Caleb. Did you tell her about the demons? Did she break up with him?” Caleb rubbed his jaw and stared out the front window. “No. She didn’t want to hear it. She accused me of being crazy, said that it was just a side effect of the concussion, that I was making things up because I hated her. Demons tormented her too, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. What do you do when someone doesn’t want to hear the truth?”
“I know how you feel.” Quinn rubbed her thigh. “Even my best friend doesn’t believe me. I can’t blame her though. I don’t think I would believe me either.”
“Nope. You wouldn’t.” Caleb took a taco from the bag and handed it to Quinn. “Do you have any idea how amazing it is to be able to talk to someone about all this? To not be afraid of their reaction?”
Quinn smiled. “Welcome to Club Crazy. We meet every second Tuesday.”
“Oh, man. Tuesdays are hard for me. Can we make it Wednesdays?” Caleb smiled, and Quinn tried to hide her grin. It felt good to trust someone, to share a secret.
“You want to know why I sat here all day? Why I had dirt on my face?”
Caleb nodded and started munching on a taco while Quinn recounted the story of what happened at the cemetery.
“I could feel Aaron, as real as you are right now, Caleb.” Quinn wiped the tears away as fast as she could, but for every one that fell, two more leaked out. “Nobody believes that he could be alive, that he needs help. Even with all that I’ve seen, I can’t wrap my head around it.”
Caleb turned to her, his brown eyes warm as coffee. “You’re not alone.” When a finger stroked her cheek, she shivered. “Aaron’s a lucky guy to have someone who cares about him so much.”
“It’s getting late. I should get home before my mom goes ballistic,” Quinn stammered.
“Yeah, I should get going too.” Caleb cracked his knuckles and stared up at a street lamp. “For what it’s worth, if Aaron appeared to you at the memorial, I wouldn’t ignore it. We live in a strange world, Quinn. Seems like anything is possible.” He grabbed her cell phone from the console and began typing. “That’s my cell phone number, if you ever need it.” He opened the car door and paused, leaning on the frame. “See you tomorrow for some kickboxing?”
Quinn smiled and nodded. “Of course. Goodnight, Meathead. And thanks.”
“Night, Blondie.” Caleb closed the car door, waved, and disappeared behind the glass double doors of the gym.
Chapter Sixteen
The faint murmuring of Monday morning lectures droned on from behind the rows of closed classroom doors. Westland High felt smaller somehow, like last year’s shoes. Being within its four walls pinched and suffocated Quinn. She’d outgrown its fluorescent-lit hallways full of idle gossip and meaningless social-ladder climbing. What was once the center of her whole life was now nothing but a pointless exercise in fake smiles and faker friendships. Nothing about it felt normal.
Quinn’s mother had been as good as her word, going so far as to sit in on her appointment with Mr. Medina, the school counselor. After an hour of listening to two adults arguing and strategizing the best way to get Quinn back on track and across that stage in June, without even so much asking her how she felt, she was released back into the wild with a kiss on the cheek from her mother and a new, easier schedule from Mr. Medina. Out with the advanced placement classes and in with an extra elective. Quinn didn’t care. Her phone buzzed as she left Mr. Medina’s office, and she pulled it from her pocket.
Caleb: Good luck today. You can do this! I’ll have a punching bag ready for you after school though, just in case.
She smiled at the text from Caleb. Over the last few days, they’d grown closer, sharing demon stories while training together at the gym. It was the one thing she looked forward to. Spending time with Caleb had become her safe haven, the only place in the world she could truly be herself. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it would have been like if she had put her trust in Aaron instead of pushing him away.
Quinn: Thanks, Meathead. Can you put a picture of my counselor’s face on it?
In some ways, Caleb reminded her of Aaron. Caring, loyal, willing to put himself in danger f
or those he cared about, but there was a cynical sarcasm there too that reminded her of herself. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him. Maybe she should feel guilty for that, but she didn’t. Aaron was her first priority. She’d made that clear to Caleb, and he accepted it, or at least pretended to.
Caleb: done. See you at three, Blondie. And don’t forget the new gloves.
Replacing the phone in her pocket, she adjusted her backpack, took a deep breath, and started walking. She was supposed to be making her way to third period English, but instead found herself stuck in the middle of the long language arts corridor. The squeak of her boots on linoleum slowed as she approached a row of lockers on the right. There was no way to avoid it.
Hugging her literature book to her chest, she tried to ignore the instinct to run. She didn’t want to look, but his locker called to her, a lantern against the gray concrete walls, and her feet ignored a plea to keep walking. Condolence cards still clung to the face of the dark purple metal, a rainbow of printed flowers and serene landscapes. On the wall above it hung a sign dotted with hundreds of signatures. In giant red letters it said:
Gone but not forgotten. Westland High will miss you.
Scanning the cards, she read the touching messages full of platitudes. People who hadn’t even known Aaron poured out their grief in a barrage of meaningless words for a boy few had taken the time to get to know. Wasn’t she as guilty as they were? She wiped a tear with the back of her hand.
A few feet to her left marked the spot where Aaron saved her from fainting. Everyone had called him Superman and sang his praises, all but Quinn. Like a fool, she had called out for Jeff, ignoring the best thing that could have happened to her. There wasn’t a moment when she didn’t wish she could go back in time and change that very instant when she woke up in his arms. Now Aaron only lived inside her head, a ghost in the machine.
The corners of her textbook dug into her chest as she tried to suppress the memory of Aaron smiling at her, laughing with Marcus.
An exit sign flashed red above the door at the end of the hallway. In less than ten seconds, she could be through it and out into the parking lot before anyone knew she was gone. Why should she stay? Nothing here mattered. High school was nothing but a lie, a farce, and she didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. Everyone had written him off, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t do this, act like everything was all right, move forward with her life. The whole show of it brought bile to her throat.
Her vision narrowed then stretched as dizziness spiraled around her head. Suddenly, her literature book became a ten-ton brick in her arms. She couldn’t hold onto it any longer, and it slipped through her grasp, thudding on the hard linoleum below.
Struggling to catch her breath, she wrenched the confining scarf away from her neck and searched for something to steady herself. Her sweaty palm found the cool metal of Aaron’s locker door, and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to stave off the drowning feeling.
Touching something of his had a calming effect, and her heart stopped throwing punches at her rib cage. She couldn’t help picturing Aaron standing with her, a soothing hand on hers, green eyes dancing as he leaned in for a kiss. Regret ripped at the hole he’d left inside her, and she couldn’t hold back the flood.
An icy chill ran up Quinn’s spine, and she stiffened as the light touch of a phantom finger brushed the tears from her cheek. Her eyes flew open and scanned the hallway. The human realm appeared empty, but her senses picked up slight vibrations, dark disturbances clinging to the shadows, that made her stomach clench.
Aaron’s combination lock clanged against the metal frame, as if someone knocked a hand against it. Quinn startled and backed away, her breath coming in sharp bursts as the temperature dropped. An intense feeling of being watched overcame her. Blinking, she watched the lock vibrate, the dial inching to the right until it landed on the number two. A click indicated it had hit the right spot. The dial spun to the left, faster this time, reaching twenty-seven. Another click, and a spin back to the right. When it stopped on seven, the curved shackle popped out of the case and the padlock fell to the ground with an echoing bang.
“Aaron?” she whispered.
The door inched open, and Quinn held her breath, hoping he would appear to her the way he had at the cemetery. She turned in a slow circle, looking for any signs of his manifestation, but if it was him, he remained hidden. It must be him. Quinn whipped around as the door squeaked open another centimeter.
“Aaron, is that you?” she whispered again, an invocation.
In response, the door swung wide as if caught in a gust of wind, banging against the adjoining locker, causing her to flinch.
She stared at the open compartment and twisted a short strand of hair around her finger. Nobody had taken the time to empty its contents, and the inside lay untouched, exposing a piece of Aaron she hadn’t taken a chance to know. Such a personal space, the inside of a locker, and she was anxious about invading it without him there. There were the usual textbooks, and a collage of pictures and poetry scrawled in his messy hand were stuck to the sides with a collection of small black and white magnets.
Aaron smiled at her, one arm around Jenna, the other around Cade. They stood in front of a drum set in what looked like a garage. His guitar hung from his shoulder, and he looked as happy as she’d ever seen him.
Jealousy bit at Quinn’s heart as she thought of dark-haired, beautiful, and no-nonsense Jenna singing with Aaron, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, kissing in the bleachers. There was nothing between them but friendship, but maybe if they were together before that day he rescued Quinn in the hallway, he never would have fallen for her, never would have been at the river that night, would still be alive.
The other picture showed Marcus and Aaron standing back to back, arms folded across their chests, baseball caps on backwards, sporting a pair of fake mustaches with you-know-you-want-some-of-this smirks. An overwhelming need to possess that picture gripped her. Was this what Aaron wanted her to find? She looked left, then right, to make sure her crime wasn’t observed.
When she moved the magnet that held it in place, her sleeve caught on the tip of a spiral notebook. Jerking her arm up and back, the small black binder tumbled to the floor and landed at her feet with a thump. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick up the journal. The handwriting was distinctly Aaron’s, a slanted mix of block and cursive. So that’s why Marcus and Josh couldn’t find it. They’d both been through his room half a dozen times looking for it. Quinn had checked the ruins of St. Angeles in case it had been hidden there, and Marcus had even begged Jenna to have a look around her garage. They’d all given up, but here it was. Nobody even thought to look in his locker.
“Aaron, is this what you wanted me to find?”
Nausea tugged at her gut. Even with her guard up, she sensed the change in the atmosphere as something hungry and corrupt approached. The temperature dropped ten degrees in less than a second. Quinn’s breath came out in a white mist, as if she were standing in a winter storm instead of in the middle of a warm building. This wasn’t Aaron.
A powerful demon entered the hallway, cutting a long knife-like shadow across the floor. It had been manipulating her, playing with her mind.
Behind it walked a girl, red hair like fire blazing in long disheveled curls. Kerstin stared at Quinn, eyes completely jet black, her face full of malice. Her lips curled into a snarl, making the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck prickle and burn.
“Welcome back, Quinn Perfect,” Kerstin purred with a not quite human voice. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Piercing screams tore through a swirling mist, and the smell of smoke and sulfur choked Aaron’s lungs. No, not Aaron’s lungs—Kaemon’s. Golden wings spread wide; he circled above a large waterfall. The roar of the cascade poured into the river below, drowning out the angry howls of the demons swarming the lush landscape below. The war had begu
n. Lilith had returned to Eden from the Underworld to take revenge on Adam and his new wife, Eve.
Before Eve, Lilith was Adam’s wife, but when she sought the forbidden tree of knowledge for herself, Adam betrayed her to The Light. As punishment, The Light stripped her of her title as Keeper and cast her into the Underworld. Now, she wanted them all to pay.
Kaemon watched as a half-eaten apple fell from Adam’s hand, red skin bright as fresh blood against the spring-green carpet of pristine grass. As it hit the ground, the fruit shriveled, the shape caving in on itself. In seconds, it had decomposed, turning brown and then black, like someone had charred the edges of the skin. From the center of the mush that was once a living fruit, a funnel of smoke blossomed. It rose three feet above the ground and cascaded back down in a mushroom cloud before spreading across the landscape.
Hideous creatures erupted from the fog, like worms pushing their way to the surface after a rain. Some slithered, some crawled, and others stood on two legs like men with leathery wings protruding from skeleton-like forms. The garden was breached. Everything the demons touched died and rotted, their presence a plague upon the land, and he could feel their evil intent rolling off them like waves. Hungry, so hungry, they wanted to eat until satiated; life, beauty, meaning, they sought to take it at any cost, for her, Lilith, their mother, their queen, for revenge.
As the smoke cleared, animal carcasses littered the countryside. All the trees in the great forest lay twisted and dead. The taint from the demon horde killed every living thing it touched and turned beauty into desolation.
Dozens of Elite angels followed Kaemon, weapons at the ready. Righteous anger burned in their hearts, fueling their power. Thunder rolled across the sky, dark clouds gathering over the horizon, moving fast. The war had begun.
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