He offers a light nod. “Yes.”
* * *
As it becomes dark outside I decide to pry myself away from Silas, though it’s hard. I thought getting answers about the robbery would give me some kind of closure, but all it did was open up a whole new world to me. A world I knew in my heart existed but one humans are never supposed to come face to face with — at least not until they die.
Silas walks me to my car and after I get in he simply gives my door a slight push and it clicks closed. I peer up at him and he winks. The whole drive home I’m in a daze. What does this all mean for me? He threw an angel out of my life and I spent the day with three demons.
Even now, after all the proof and explanation, I have a hard time believing it: God, Heaven, angels, demons. It all seems the stuff of fairy tales…and nightmares. Still, before I lay down in my bed I glance to the unlocked window in my room, and an uneasy feeling sets in. I peer at the bedroom door which is also unlocked, as always.
He’s an Incubus—he can come into my room as I sleep if I’m not careful. I walk to my window and place my hand on the latch, but instead of locking it, my hand falls back to my side. If everything he says is true, a locked window can’t stop him. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I take my earrings off, placing them in a small bowl on my end table. A latch can’t stop him, but more than that, I trust him.
I shake my head, knowing how foolish that is and how dangerous, but I do. The door is left unlocked as well, and I dress into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, throwing my other clothes on the bedroom floor. It’s now I realize I never wrote the article for the school paper and would have to do it tomorrow since it’s due Monday.
I laugh to myself. Such a petty thing to worry about, all things considered. The school newspaper. How ridiculous is that?
I drift off to sleep easier than I imaged I would, but soon I’m disturbed by a touch. A gentle touch on my shoulder and I awake with a fright. Silas is in my room.
Seven
The Tattoo
“No!” I scream, jumping out of my bed before clasping my hand over my mouth, afraid to wake my parents. I stay motionless for a moment, ears waiting to hear steps outside my door, but I hear nothing and take a breath. But the man before me isn’t Silas.
“Emma,” he says in a gentle voice.
“Micah?” I whisper. There’s a light glow around him that begins to fade back into the darkened room. I can only make him out by the moonlight seeping in through the window. Leaning toward the lamp, I reach for the switch.
“No, please. Don’t,” he says.
“It’s so dark, though,” I comment.
“It’s better this way, I promise. You have seen too much already. To stare into my face, an angel’s face, means you might be unreasonably led to join me after.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We are the ones who come for you when you’re dying. We’re the face of light, hope, promise, and life everlasting. Sometimes it’s hard for a human to gaze at us and not want to join us in the hereafter.”
“Oh.” My hand falls back to my side. I can only see a portion of his face from the moonlight. His eyes appear black in the night — not chocolate brown as I remember them, and his face is relaxed as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I saw you the other day for a moment and didn’t feel the urge to come with you.”
His eyes narrow in thought. “I must have never made eye contact with you.”
I try to recall that day. Maybe he’s right. He only looked at Silas as he saved me and then left once Silas ordered him away.
“You left. Silas told you to leave and you left.”
Micah holds in a breath before releasing it loudly. “Silas and the others are half human. We aren’t allowed to interfere with human’s free will. He had every right to save you if he chose to, just as any other human could have, and I can’t interfere.”
“Yes, but he’s half demon, too,” I remind him as if he’s unaware.
“Yes, I suppose he is.”
“I still don’t understand something. He knew your name and you knew his. How can that be?” This was the part I was most interested in. Did every demon know every angel and so on? Was everything linked?
“I’m not Silas’s favorite…well, angel.”
“Why?”
“I’m the one who took his mother when it was her time. I listened in as he explained everything to you today. Silas left when he was fifteen, it’s true. But he left because his mother had fallen ill and I came for her. She came with me, just as I planned on you doing.”
“Why didn’t Silas just save her like he did me?”
He shakes his head. “His powers weren’t fully developed. Half-breeds don’t inherit the fullness of their powers until they’re eighteen.”
“That’s why he doesn’t like you.”
“Yes. Seems odd to me. He wishes to go to Heaven but becomes upset when his mother does. I understand, though. It left him with no one. I’m surprised he didn’t seek out his father, but he thinks that would have hurt his chances for Heaven. Maybe he’s right.”
I imagine Silas as a young boy. His mother ill and him scared as this being comes to take away the only person who knows who he truly is and understands him. The only person who loves him. My heart begins to hurt.
“So, despite hiding a demon, her son, she went to Heaven,” I mumble to myself but the question is still there. How?
“A mother’s love is…a mother’s love. She didn’t ask for what happened to her and she went to great lengths to see that Silas was taught right from wrong. I suppose that’s the reason he is the way he is today — a pizza maker saving lives.”
His voice seethed with doubt. Whether he knew it or not, I could hear it. Oddly though, his words seemed pained.
“You don’t think he’ll make it to Heaven,” I conclude.
“Emma, he is what he is.”
“But you said yourself he’s half human.”
“It’s true. It’s not for me to decide. I just have an opinion.”
His opinion is clear. Despite Silas’s noble efforts, his soul is doomed.
“I must go. I just…well, I had to see you — to know you were okay and safe,” he admits.
“Why?”
He shakes his head a bit. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll check on you again sometime?”
The question catches me off guard. Is he asking because he fears Silas and his brothers might hurt me? Surely not. They saved me after all. Still, his presence is rather comforting.
“Of course.” With my answer, he dissipates into what little light the moon allowed into my room. “Wait!” I reach out for him but my hand finds only air. I’m alone once again, and sleeping might prove rather difficult.
* * *
I’m sluggish this morning from little sleep. Was Micah just a dream — the makings of an overactive imagination? No, he’s real. Silas said as much. I didn’t see his face and didn’t touch him, but somehow, I know it was all real.
I yawn as I stretch in my bed. Glancing to my window, I see the weather for the day and notice my window is locked. My eyes narrow in confusion as I peer around my room. My door is locked as well.
I remember purposefully not locking them. Micah must have locked them before he left. My head shakes at the thought. Silas would never hurt me. Seems crazy to believe that, but I know it’s true.
Knock! Knock!
I glance to the door before cracking it open.“Come in.”
“Emma?” my father asks. It’s been a while since my father has visited my room. Especially first thing in the morning.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Can you do me a favor?” His face twists in concern. I become intrigued.
“Sure.”
“Keep your window and door locked at night. I thought I heard a man’s voice in here last night.”
My eyes try to bulge, but I control my expression and think quickly. “Oh, that was just my boss. I had him on speaker phone.”
He stares at me with an unknown expression. Does he not believe me?
“It was a little late for phone calls.”
My head cocks. “Since when are you concerned with how late I stay up? It was Saturday night after all. Most kids my age are partying at that hour, and you’re complaining because I was on the phone?”
He turns his head away from me. “Just keep ‘em locked,” he mutters before exiting.
I exhale as he shuts the door. It hadn’t been Micah at all, but my father. His unexplainable concern is unwelcome at this point.
He had my whole life to show concern for me and he decides to now. Now that there’s a demon in my life. I shake my head and chuckle to myself. Not only a demon, but an angel.
I stare around my room, my knees pulled to my chest as I sit. There was something I had to do today. Oh, the article — which seems ridiculous to worry about at this point. But I suppose Silas and his brothers worry about a pizzeria. Life must go on.
I take my time with the article, though I pay little attention to any errors. All I can think about is seeing Silas, Zeke, and Kutz tonight. Upon finishing it, I shove it inside a folder for safekeeping.
I leave my room once to grab something to eat. My mother was actually lucid and cooked chicken and dumplings. It’s as if the universe is playing some kind of joke on me: a loving mother, a concerned father, angels, demons. Maybe I’ve gone insane. It seems likely.
I eat my food at a normal pace, eying my mother the whole time, who seems almost cheerful today, and it’s clear not a drop of liquor has entered her system this morning. For a moment I wonder if Micah has cast some sort of angelic spell to make them into “normal” parents. If he did, it seems to have worked.
I wipe my mouth, wash off my plate, and head back upstairs where I stare at myself in the mirror for a few minutes. Sitting at my antique vanity, I flip on the lamp. The dark circles under my eyes confirm my sleepless night. Today will have to be a makeup day.
I put it on in a daze — going through the motions, but my mind is elsewhere. Silas. Always thinking of Silas. When I finish, it’s time to get ready for work. Throwing on my uniform shirt and my best pair of distressed jeans, I head out of my bedroom and down the stairs.
“Off to work, love?” my mother asks. Love? Okay, I’ll take that.
“Yeah, I close as usual.”
“Be safe,” my dad adds.
My right brow pulls up sarcastically. “Sure.”
When I arrive at work I catch a glimpse of Silas working hard in the kitchen, and business certainly doesn’t seem to have slowed since the shooting. The place is packed, and I can already see our salad bar needs cleaning. I grab a rag and an extra plate and work my way to the salad bar where I mindlessly begin sweeping the stray lettuce, croutons, and other toppings from around the bowls and into the plate. Adjacent to the salad bar is the pizza buffet, and I see a sweaty Kutz toss another pizza on the buffet bar before arriving at my side.
“Still here, I see. You’re not a masochist, are you?”
I chuckle. “Maybe I am. Run along, half-breed, run along.”
The corner of his mouth turns up, and he gives me a wink before heading back to the kitchen. Something about making it into a joke seems to put my mind further at ease. A good thing? I’m not sure.
When the bar is cleaned off, I throw open the swinging door to the back and empty the contents of the plate into the trash, only to see there’s a pile of dirty dishes. It’s obvious they’ve been too busy to do anything but cook, and whoever waitressed before I arrived must have thought she had better things to do.
I place the plate in the dishwasher and begin rinsing off the other dishes before stacking them in as well. The dishwasher is loud and my eyes shut tightly in an attempt to make the sound not hurt my ears. Hearing the heavy door shut behind me, I glance back but see no one.
While the dishes wash, I decide to refill the few things in the salad bar that need it. I cross the back room, tripping over brown boxes and other items to make it to the freezer. When I open the door, there stands Silas…shirtless.
He turns to see it’s me and begins frantically trying to pull his shirt back on. “Sorry, I got hot in the kitchen. Was trying to cool off,” he explains.
“Wait. What’s this on your back?” There’s a tattoo in the center of his back between his shoulder blades. Without thinking, I cross the freezer room to him and gently run my fingers down it, feeling every slight indention of the symbol.
It’s a star. At the first point is a “G” in a sort of script font. Both side points have an “H” scripted on, and at the bottom corners there is an “A” and a “D.” Inside the perfect star is another “H.” I feel his breathing slow as I run my fingers across it, and the chill from the freezer seems to not affect me at all. All there is, is me, Silas, and my skin against his.
“It’s a symbol. We all had it tattooed on us when I turned eighteen. It is our world and everything in it. Something, I suppose, you’re a part of now,” he explains.
“Tell me.”
“The star itself represents the world. At the peak of the world is God. Some people believe Heaven is above us and Hell below us, but we know different. Heaven or Hell is a choice we make through our lives. A choice to go left or right. That’s why there are H’s on the side points.
“At the bottom are the ones who try to help us make those choices, be it for good or evil. The angels and the demons. A and D. Inside all of this madness, and the star, are the beings we were all supposed to bow down to in the beginning, though some chose not to. The beings that actually make the world what it is from day to day: humans. We are all connected: God, angels, demons, people.
“And the half-breeds?” I ask.
With that, he puts his arms through his sleeves and ducks back into his shirt. He turns to face me and takes a step toward me. I instinctively back up, but my back finds the door. He doesn’t stop until we are mouth to mouth. Breath to breath. “We were never supposed to exist,” he whispers.
I can barely breathe. “Neither were demons,” I whisper back. His lips barely brush against mine and my eyes close tight. But space grows between us. My eyes once again open, and he stands a few feet away, studying me for a moment, blinking profusely, as if trying to wipe an image from his mind.
“I have to get back to work,” he mumbles, crossing to the door behind me. He stops right beside me and manages to mutter, “So do you,” before the door swings open, he is gone, and I’m left inside, finally feeling the chill.
Eight
A Kiss
“Tell me about your world,” I say, as Silas and I lean against the waitress station watching Kutz and Zeke begin cleaning after a long night. It’s the first time we have spoken tonight since the freezer. “What’s it like?”
“A nightmare. The only solace I find is in my brothers, the illusion of normalcy from Jefferson, and now, you. I suppose it’s nice having someone know our secret and still accept us as something other than monsters.”
“You’re not a monster, Silas.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me,” I say, placing my hand on his. “Will you look around? You help people every day: families, friends, me. Even if that wasn’t the case, you saved me, didn’t you?”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “I suppose I did.”
The room falls quiet except for the vacuum which Kutz is running now. Silas turns and heads for the kitchen, and I watch as he begins cleaning around the silver containers holding the meats and veggies for the pizzas. His body proves he’s there, but his eyes seem blank and distant. I go to him and stop his hands from cleaning, grabbing them and holding them in my own.
For a moment we stare into each other’s faces and search. For what, I’m not sure. I simply peer up at him.
“I know about Micah, Silas. And I know about your mom.” My words cause his head to jolt back a bit in surprise.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mic
ah told me everything last night,” I admit.
“Micah was with you last night?” His eyes narrow and his ears turn fiery red. My hands fall from his.
“He visited me, said he wanted to check on me.” His head turns as he attempts to control his breathing and, I suspect, his temper. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you knew him?”
“Why would I?” he says through his teeth. My arms fall back to my side. “Micah took away the only person who truly loved me. Who understood me and who I loved, as I sat there and watched.”
The image of it floods my mind. A fifteen-year-old Silas watching an angel take his mother away. A pain shoots through my heart, and I place my hand atop his once more.
“I’m here now,” I say. “I am. And I know who you are, and I care for you.”
“You barely know me.”
I chuckle at his words. “Don’t you think I know enough?”
Whatever guard he had up comes crashing down as his face brightens and he chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose you do.” He slips his fingers in between mine and our hands becomes intertwined. The back of his other hand finds my face, and he brushes it across my cheek. I close my eyes to the sensation.
His hand is so warm, yet his delicate touch sends chills up my spine. My eyes open to find him closer to me. My breathing halts, and his hand drifts to my chin as he pulls it up where my gaze meet his.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispers. Suddenly, his lips find mine and I squeeze his hand. Our mouths become as one, and he drops his hand from my chin to place it around my waist, pulling me against him.
I hear footsteps coming closer but I ignore them, only able to focus on Silas’s lips against my own. When he releases me, my grip on his hand softens and my eyes slowly open once more. He takes a step back and I remain still, afraid to move, though I’m not scared in the least. Then I’m reminded of the footsteps, and Silas and I both turn to find Kutz and Zeke in the doorway of the kitchen.
Bloodlines Page 5