Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2)

by Aaron Patterson

  “Ew,” I said, acting repulsed by her crassness. But then we laughed, and sharing that moment with my Kimmie took me back to movie nights at my house, popcorn fights and talk about boys. It made my smile fade all too quickly. Those days might never return, I realized.

  There was a picturesque little marina nearby on the other side of the railroad bridge, with I-84 roaring along above us as well. I looked up and stopped. Beech Street. And off in the distance, like a beacon of hope: A hotel. “Oh, thank GOD!”

  “Do you think there’s a restaurant?” Kim seemed to be perking up.

  “Yeah, and I bet they even serve DEAD RHINOCEROS,” I said, mimicking her raucous tone from earlier. We laughed until we nearly peed our pants and fell over in the grass, and then I decided what the heck: I tackled her. We rolled around giggling and wrestling, letting all the tension go at last, sending her bag flying. We rolled into Michael and Ellie, who stood there looking down at us, bemused. But we weren’t done yet; there was more pent-up tension to release. We rolled around a bit more, wrestling each other.

  When we were through, trying to recover, I pulled myself onto my elbows and looked up. Ellie had gone, presumably to get us some rooms, and Michael was sitting at a picnic table, his chin in his hand, looking out at the river. I wanted to go to him, enjoy the moment with him, but I thought better of it. Kim was such an odd man out; she needed an advocate.

  “Hey,” she poked me. “Thanks for that.”

  I smiled at her. “No prob.” Then I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “Dang, girl,” I said, looking at her hands, “You need to find a bar of soap!” They were crusted over with dirt and possibly even bruises, especially on the palms, which I thought was really weird.

  She withdrew them and looked ashamed. “I know,” she said. “I know, right?” She made a whooshing sound and said, “It’s been really messed up, hanging out with you lately.”

  I felt really bad for her. “Kim, I’m so sorry…. Maybe we should have just taken you home.”

  “No way,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss this for nothin’.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, you. Don’t try to act tough. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “I’m not acting.”

  “Okay, whatever,” I said, thinking. “Hey…I’m sorry for my part of what happened on the train.” I thought back to how I woke up to find Michael missing, went to go find him and found Kim instead, and then… “I don’t know what happened once Ellie showed up and started freaking out.”

  “Yeah, she’s got her bags packed for a power trip,” Kim said. “She’s lame. I hate her.”

  I looked at her, surprised a little at her extreme tone. “Yeah, well, I guess I do too.”

  “Airel, I love you.” She looked like she was about to cry.

  “Kim, what’s going on with you?” I blurted out. I didn’t really want to know just then, I had to admit. But she was obviously emotionally unstable.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her dirty red sweater. She looked like a meth addict.

  “It’s okay to be weak, you know, to need a break. Even I need—”

  “Even you, huh?” she said, the hurt in her tone pretty obvious. “Look, I know I’ll never be like you. I’ll never have cool angel powers. I’m ugly; I won’t live forever…” she got a distant look in her eyes and put her hands in her sweater pocket.

  “Kim, I didn’t mean anything by—”

  “Where is it?” she interrupted me. She sounded scared, her eyes darting all over the grass.

  I laughed at her, but it came out fraudulent. “You’re acting really weird, Kim. Where’s what?” I looked from her eyes to the grass and back, judging the situation.

  “My…my, um…” she fumbled.

  “Your what?”

  “I lost something,” she said, her voice choked up. “I think it happened when we were wrestling…”

  “What, you lost something…?”

  “Yes!” she was suddenly very irritated. She pulled her bag close and unzipped it, keeping her body between me and it, peeking inside, rummaging around in it. “No, it’s not here.” She sounded desperate.

  “Kim, honey, what’s wrong?”

  She stopped, frozen, her eyes distant. “Oh…” she said robotically. “It’s nothing. I…I think I made a mistake.”

  “Kim, what the heck is wrong with you? What did you lose?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing. Right. I don’t buy it. Now what did you lose? Tell me.” Now I was getting angry.

  “I said,” she looked at me speaking through gritted teeth, “it’s nothing. It was just a little keepsake, and I—I found it. It was in my bag after all.”

  I regarded her. I knew she was lying, but I thought better of calling her on it right then. Pick my battles carefully, I thought. “Oh. Well…good. Glad we solved that riddle.” I looked back to Michael. Ellie was walking back toward us, holding one hand up. Something dangled there that looked like keys.

  I could already feel the shower running over me, washing away the dirt and grime.

  “We use cash for everything,” Michael said. “And no phone calls to home. I think that’s how they found us.” I watched his face. Something wasn’t right. It was like he didn’t believe what he was saying. His blank expression said more. I tried to tell myself he was just finally feeling tired, but then I didn’t believe what I was saying.

  CHAPTER XIV

  ELLIE HAD PAID FOR two rooms with the cash Michael had given her. He wanted us all to share one room, saying, “We’ll be safer if we stick together.” Ellie vetoed that idea though, on grounds of decency. Her stock began to rise in my estimation at that point.

  “Hey,” I elbowed her as we left Michael to himself and made our way to the girls’ room, a few doors down. “Good call.”

  “What, keeping you and your hormone-happy boyfriend separated? No problem.”

  “Yeah, no, it’s not a problem,” I reiterated. “And again, thanks. I’m not your average girl and I don’t think it’s cool to place myself in…awkward situations.”

  She stopped and looked at me, sizing me up again. “You’re welcome, girlie. We’ve got to look out for one another, right? Besides, you’re right. It would be a bit ticklish, that.”

  I laughed, and it made her smile. The sight of that expression on her face filled me with such a confusion of emotions that I couldn’t sort it out at first.

  It’s like watching someone die: you know they’re going to a better place, but you also know you’ll never see them again. I didn’t know how else to look at it; it weirded me out. Why would I feel like that? I chalked it up to my special abilities, which were still, after all, pretty new to me. How would I know when I had plumbed the depths of all the gifts my angel blood had given me?

  We had arrived at our room. She turned the key in the doorknob, and before either of us could enter, Kim barged between us and bolted for one of the beds. “This one’s mine!” she said and jumped on it like a little girl. She began peeling off layers, starting with her hideous red sweater.

  We had to hurry inside and close the door before she flashed the whole parking lot from the second floor. “Geez, Kim!” I said.

  “I’m first into the shower!” she ran into the bathroom in nothing but her underwear and slammed the door.

  “The room’s already thrashed,” Ellie said. She groaned as she looked around us. “I’m not picking this stuff up; it’s nasty.” Kim had been a tornado of dirty smelly clothes.

  I could hear the shower start up. I was a little jealous of that, but I figured I could wait. I kicked her shirt and jeans into a pile against her duffel bag, which had fallen into the space between her bed and the wall. “There,” I said, “out of sight, out of mind.”

  “Did you see her…?”

  “How could I miss her,” I said.

  “No, I mean the bruises. You saw it, yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “She looks like
a user.”

  I was shocked at Ellie’s frankness. “Wow…but that’s weird. Why would you say that?”

  “What?” Ellie said, pulling her own sweater off over her head. She pulled the hem of her white t-shirt down and sat heavily in one of the chairs by the modest table.

  I lowered my voice. “Because I was just thinking the same thing out there.” I motioned to the grassy park outside, beyond the closed curtains.

  “Look, it’s no great stretch of the imagination.”

  “Duh,” I said. “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Tell you what, Airel. Why don’t you go next.” She motioned to the shower. “I’ll go get us some ice, maybe see if I can scare up a soda or two.”

  “Um, sure?” I gave her a confused look.

  “It’s not you,” she said, trying to explain her abruptness. “I need regular alone time or I get grouchy.” She smiled, again setting off the emotional fireworks within me.

  What the heck, dude.

  “You know what else…we’re gonna need some new clothes, right? I’ll be the search party for that.”

  “But I—”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll get us some cute stuff. What, you don’t think I know style when I see it?” She pointed to her blue mane.

  I’m not worried about style, I didn’t say, I’m worried you’re finding all kinds of excuses for seducing Michael behind my back. “Whoa…” I was dizzy with the cascade of unexpected thoughts in my head.

  “I know, I know. Good luck finding anything in this little country town, I know.” She held up her phone. “I’ve got all kinds of fun toys to help me.”

  “Great,” I said. “Gas-station clothes. Awesome.”

  “Aw, chin up. After bathing you’ll feel properly sorted.” She punched me in the arm playfully. “Promise.”

  Owwww! So much emotional pain! I wanted to die in the avalanche of it.

  Michael felt exactly like a kid in over his head. He had poked the dog with the stick one too many times, and now the fence had broken and he was on the run, eager fangs giving chase and closing in. It was too much. He felt very heavy. Exhausted and worthless. He was waiting for some strong hand to rescue him—though his only experiences with strength had been commingled with unspeakable abuse.

  Stanley had been…unkind.

  He had enough faith to wrestle the doubt that kept throwing little pebbles at his resolve, pecking away at the belief that he had what it took to make it through this latest wrinkle, this latest setback, this absolutely insane upping of the ante.

  “How could she?” he choked out, the tears coming. He was glad to be alone, he decided. This is right. It fit, though it made no sense and he had no idea how he was going to summon the strength to continue on. Though it was right, though it was…justice, he supposed, it still made no sense.

  It was surreal. It was like he was watching a copy of himself when it had happened. He stood off, frozen in shock, and watched his body do things.

  It had happened in the little park. Airel and Kim were being charmingly immature, roaring about eating rhinoceros or something, and then she tackled her and they wrestled and rolled around on the grass.

  How could she?!

  Airel and Kim rolled away, leaving it quite literally at his feet: the Bloodstone.

  My God! “She’s been carrying it this whole time…” his mind flew backward through all the places they had been, all the things they had done, all the plans they’d made, and all this time, the Bloodstone had its carrier. “Kim…how could you?”

  She’s a traitor…

  No one had seen him pick it up. He had covered it with his shoe; that’s where the wretched thing belongs, under my feet; and when Ellie took the cash to go get the rooms, he had bent and…and took it.

  He cursed his awful father, cursed his memory, cursed the day of his own birth into this insanity. The why filled his head. El…why? Can El be any good at all when His creation is so…so evil? “Why do I have to be the one to carry this burden?”

  He felt absolutely alone.

  What will it do to me?

  Michael felt pulled in two directions as the perpetually unhealing wound in his chest throbbed stronger.

  CHAPTER XV

  Boise, Idaho, present day

  THE WHITE FBI AS-350 helicopter climbed quickly, accelerating to its cruise speed of 130 knots—about 150 miles per hour. At that rate, Reid would cover the roughly 300 miles to the scene of the incident in less than two hours.

  Harry sat there, his nose buried in his Kindle eReader.

  She wondered what he could be reading that was more interesting than real life. It irritated her. He was probably reading something hideously nerdy. She snatched the gadget out of his hand and glanced at the display. Seniority had its privileges, its prerogatives. On the “ePage,” or whatever you called it, was something by some idiot Frenchman named Beaudelaire; something about The Flowers of Evil or some such rot. She snickered and handed the absurd device and its absurd content back to him with a sneer. He meekly took it without the slightest sign of protest, which made her despise him even more. There are so few killers in the world, she surmised. Most people are just ignorant sheep.

  She was drawn back to the present situation, to what really mattered. It was such an incredible career opportunity, she realized. She could ride in on her white stallion and claim to be concerned for Tom Rawlins, to offer to take up the loose threads of his investigation, all in the name of esprit de corps, for the FBI, for the team. Meanwhile, no one had to know that her real motivation was to look good to the bosses, be on her game, be the go-to gal, get things done in spite of her (slightly) evident grief for her (most likely) fallen comrade-in-arms. She had developed a feel for these things. Her gut was telling her that Rawlins was dead and that opportunity therefore awaited, yawning supinely before her.

  Hey, she thought, life’s a contest and to the conqueror go the spoils. And she could be a ruthless gangster when she needed to be. When it suited her. She reflected, a little egomaniacally, on herself: What was your best moment, your favorite promotion, Gretchen? The next one, she answered herself.

  The helo slipped swiftly through the airstream.

  Arlington, Oregon, present day

  Kim had showered and then collapsed into the bed quickly thereafter, falling into a deep but troubled sleep. She was comfortable now, lying there with the feel of clean sheets on her skin, her body heat reflected back to her, warming her to the bone. After so many hours spent on the run, in the rain, soaked and bedraggled, it felt so good to be in a real bed.

  But there was something missing. She couldn’t avoid it or deny it.

  She reached under her pillow in her fitful sleep, feeling mindlessly, instinctively for the Bloodstone. It was not there.

  Of course. She knew who had taken it; who now carried it. How would she get it back from him? What’s the plan? Airel, having showered as well, napped beside her, breathing in and out with soft sighs.

  Kim was so exhausted she felt like she could sleep for weeks. Yet she didn’t feel the slightest bit refreshed. If anything, she felt even more tired. Now that the Bloodstone had gone, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. All she knew was that she was tired. So very tired. The voices that called to her inside her head, once interesting and full of ancient wisdom, now grated irritatingly against her seared conscience, shaving away in layers every forethought she attempted to coalesce into something—anything—coherent.

  She felt like she was going insane.

  What was it that drew her originally to the little red stone? On the cliff top, amidst the scuffle of angels and demons, while lives and destinies were altered irrevocably roundabout her, it had called to her in the warp of time…

  She could hear voices. They spoke unspeakable usurpations to her ragged mind, drawing her out of herself and into…into…something that tasted sweet. Something intoxicating. Something I need.

  She wanted to kill something; anything. She grasped the p
illow with both hands and bit down on it with her jaws, her face contorting in the darkness into a visage of rage. The world was such an unjust place. But…she would make it right. Yes…

  Besides, she thought, the Bloodstone is mine. She was weary, yes, but mostly she was tired of being the third wheel in this band of impossible personalities. With the Bloodstone she could see things, feel things that had not yet come to pass, things she could not put into words…

  Was it so bad?

  She was strong enough. At least when she had it in her hand. Oh, how desperately she wanted to hold it, to touch it once more. It was like sinking into the softest mattress on a lazy Sunday, curling up inside the womb of a thick down comforter, pulling the folds up over her head, muffling the world.

  She would be the one to set things right. She would be the key.

  It is my destiny. She had heard as much.

  I will be patient. She agreed with the whispers in the darkness.

  I will wait. The Bloodstone would return to her. It was irresistible, really. She would be the key to peace, a lasting cease-fire, the only one in all of history that would actually work, that would really last. There would be an end to all wars, and it would start in her flesh. She, with the Bloodstone, would be the catalyst. The spark. The first flame.

  As her reward for her patience, for her labors, she too would possess long life and beauty. Like Airel, she too would be strong beyond her wildest dreams. She too would not only be able to heal her own flesh, but also the infirmities of others.

  Her mind drifted once more. The Bloodstone’s distant whispering call warmed her as she slipped into a world where she was not the dumb luck sidekick, but the hero.

  “Destroy it. Destroy it. Destroy it,” Michael whispered a subconscious mantra, his throat catching in desperation as he stared at the Bloodstone from across the room. It sat pulsing on the television cabinet, calling to him like a potential lover, offering everything, making promises, clapping blinders on his eyes that prevented him from seeing anything but itself. It was all gratification and no consequence.