by Carla Thorne
Ivy grabbed a bag of popcorn from Scout. “Not to remind you of anything, Mary, but are you sorry you aren’t at the dance? I know a couple of guys besides Gavin asked you.”
“No, I am totally fine not being at homecoming. But Deacon, how are you holding up?”
“What? Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you lost Claire Cannon to another guy two years in a row? How does that keep happening?”
“Yeah,” Ivy said. “How do you expect to pull off your great ski trip romance if you can’t even get her to a homecoming dance?”
“I have it all under control. I’m leaving myself room to work.”
Scout settled into a chaise. “Sounds more like you’re holding the door open for someone else to cuddle with Claire in front of the fire in the Colorado mountains.”
“Like I’m going to take advice from the guy who’s had the same two years to take a certain someone…” He pointed his head toward Ivy. “And yet, here we are.”
Uh-oh.
I glanced at Ivy and didn’t know how to help. According to her, they’d had an awkward talk where it appeared Scout asked her to the dance, followed by a one-minute conversation where he’d talked her out of accepting because he knew she didn’t really want to go.
Or something like that.
“I wouldn’t worry about us,” Ivy said. “We’re saving every penny so we can be on that ski trip and watch you not sip hot chocolate with Claire Cannon—only at a higher altitude.”
“Funny.”
“Oh, hey guys, check this out.”
Scout left the chaise and planted himself with his phone at the edge of the hot tub, so close he nearly dangled his feet. He was right there…
“Oh, never mind.”
“No! You can’t do that. What is it?”
“Well… I was checking for stuff from the dance, but it’s not important.” He clicked the screen black.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I know Gavin is there and everyone’s having a great time. Whatever.”
“But did you know who he was going with?”
“His mom told my mom he didn’t have an actual date and was going along with a group of friends or something.”
Scout turned the screen.
Deac got closer. “What the what?”
Ivy gasped. “There are so many things wrong with this.”
The four of them stood there—all smiles. Jacob towered over the others with his arm securely around Cassidy’s waist. And Cassidy had her arm looped around Gavin, who had his arm wound around…
Gavin had a date after all.
“I guess that’s part of the group,” Scout said. “Makes sense. They are football players, and jocks stick together.”
“But Jacob and Gavin hate each other,” I said.
Ivy snorted in disgust. “Look at that. Gavin’s tie matches her dress. The flowers in their corsage and boutonniere are the same. This has been planned a while.”
I returned to my spot. “Pass me a soda, would you Scout?”
“Sure.”
I popped the top. “Corey and Gavin.” I took a drink. “Gavin and Corey. Didn’t see that one comin’. Did you guys?”
Chapter 16
Shanar
Pathetic. Insignificant. Human.
I waited in my supernatural form at the late, earthly hour, and snatched the boy by his collar.
I slammed him into a tree. As he slid down the trunk, the sleeve of his suit jacket caught on a protruding stub of a branch. Fabric ripped from his arm—along with a couple of layers of skin. Blood seeped through what was left of the cloth that dangled from his shredded shirt.
He dropped to his knees and shrieked into the quiet night as he pulled sticky fingers from the wound on his bicep.
“Get up,” I commanded.
He staggered as he stood. “What was that for?”
“We need to talk. You’ve accomplished nothing.”
“It takes time.”
“It doesn’t when you’re not wasting it.”
“Mary is hurt, and angry, and suspicious. I’m doing what I can.”
“Do more. She must be kept under control and distracted.”
The boy pulled off his jacket and used what was left of his shirt to cover the oozing series of gashes on his arm. “How am I supposed to explain this? Huh? My parents are tired of hearing how I’m getting hurt on the field.” He growled as he pulled fibers from his jacket out of one of the deeper scrapes. “And what do you want with Mary anyway? She’s just a girl.”
Humans. The stupidest of all beings.
“She is not just a girl. She possesses something she is not supposed to have. I must take it to maintain balance in our realms.”
“That’s it? If she has something you want, just take it, so everyone’s life can get back to normal. Why am I in the middle of this?”
My anger cracked the sidewalk beneath his feet. “Ignorant fool! Do not presume to guess what I am or am not willing to do.”
I felt his arrogance grow, even in the face of my anger. He was a brave one—for a nanosecond at least. I’d give him that.
“What are you going to do? Open the ground and swallow me?”
“That can be arranged,” I warned. “But for now, your only job is to remain close enough to Mary for me to get what I want.”
“I’m out,” he said. “I talked to my parents as you suggested and got those details. I don’t work for you. I don’t owe you anything. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. So, if all you want is to take something from her, you can manage that without me.”
And then the putrid little puke turned his back on me.
It was my pleasure to do as he asked.
The large tree I’d blasted him in to groaned as the concrete cracked further and disturbed its roots. Nature usually rebelled when I altered its surroundings. My darkness choked the Creator’s perfect, life-giving balance, and my negative energy often simply…killed things.
The oak shook and leaves fell like rain as the earth split far enough and fast enough to trap the preposterously naïve boy’s left leg.
“Now that I’ve regained your attention…”
“Let me out of here!”
“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I assume you need that leg in one piece to play football.”
He struggled against the pinch of shifting ground around his upper leg. Roots and rebar twisted and creaked as he clung to a scarce solid piece of concrete path. New spots of blood appeared on his pant leg and bloomed until it dripped.
The begging was about to start.
“What do you want from me?”
“The same thing I’ve always wanted from you. Mary.”
“I’m doing what I can. Get me out of here.”
“Not so fast.” I hovered closer to him, but I doubted he could see a thing. “You feel that blood draining from your leg? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Your blood intrigues me. It is, after all, the reason your parents and I met.”
“Yes, I know. They told me. I made them tell me about those additional details you said I was missing. That’s how I know I don’t have to work for you.”
“Oh stop. Let me tell it. It’s one of my favorite stories. Now. There you were, your blood positively polluted with cells designed to steal your life—and you’d done nothing to deserve it. But see, your father and his father and his father had a long and twisted history with the Destroyer. And that made it possible to wreak havoc and take over your life. Because one time sooooo long ago, someone decided to accept help from the Destroyer. Just one journey into darkness, one walk into the gloom, any act of separation from the Creator can open doors far into the future for the Destroyer to walk through.”
“But my mother said—”
“Shhhh, shhh, wait. I like this part. So, anyway, when you were a baby and got sick with a blood cancer, it was almost too easy to convince your dad I could save you. It’s not hard to blind someone whose eyes are already dimmed by years o
f living in the cellar. Your mother took more time to persuade, but one high fever and a bout of pneumonia sealed the deal. I’ll do anything, she’d said, without giving any thought to the magnitude of her choice. In her defense, I didn’t play fair, and they were so weak. But then… A catch.”
“Yes, I know about the catch.”
“Your mother was so desperate. Use me… Use us, your mother said, and willingly gave herself and your dad to me. She convinced me they were more good to me than a little boy. Use us, she’d said. And then when he’s old enough to make his own decisions, take your hands off. Let him alone and leave him free to make his own choices.”
“Exactly,” the boy said from his hole in the sidewalk. “And I’ve made my own choice. I don’t want to work for you.”
“Anyway,” I continued as if I hadn’t heard. “I always loved a good mystery. I was excited to see how that one would play out. Their plan, no doubt, was to raise a good boy in the midst of their own despicable lives in hopes you would free yourself.” I disrupted the ground a little more, and the kid wailed. “But you didn’t.”
“I did!” he screamed. “Now let me out of here.”
“No. Don’t you get it? You’ve already taken favors from me. As soon as you were old enough to make some moral choices on your own, you chose your father’s path. You wanted to win the geography trivia contest, but you didn’t want to study. When I offered an opportunity to cheat, you took it. How many times have we done that? You wanted to win a Pinewood Derby race in the Cub Scouts. I gave you the fastest pretend car. You wanted to excel on the football field. I gave you strength. You wanted Mary. I put you in her path and boom—two birds, one stone.”
“I was a child when I made some of those stupid requests.”
“Yes, but you already knew right from wrong and you chose wrong and never looked back. I’ve put good and satisfying things in your life. Do you really want to give them all back right now? No continued good health? No football, popularity, or success? No Mary?”
Did I mention I didn’t play fair?
All anyone in his family ever had to do was ask the Creator for help.
Somehow, no one ever did.
And why would they? Why take pleasure, strength, or power from the Creator’s world when the Destroyer’s gifts were so much more fun?
Soooooo much more fun.
The Creator tried to reach him, but brightness barely lit the cage of evil his consumed parents built around him. It’s hard to see life when the curtains of death are pulled tight across the window.
Still… Everyone always had a choice, and everyone always had a chance. The Creator’s offers of redemption were infinite, but one solid rejection was all the Destroyer needed to take control.
So, the boy continued in the way of his parents and, when the girl defeated death, it was him I chose to make an Agent and take back what Sebastian took from me—the girl’s life.
The kid never fully understood how I’d planned to use him, or what his part was in the destruction.
It didn’t matter. He was willing—or at least he would be by the time I got done with him.
“What’s it going to be?”
“Get me out of this hole.”
“So, you’ve made your choice to continue to cooperate with me?”
“No, but I’m no good to you if I’ve punctured something vital and bleed out in this hole.”
He had a point, but I remembered even a blind squirrel stumbled upon a nut once in a while.
“Fine. That does look like a lot of blood.” It took no effort to shift the ground again.
The boy pulled himself out with considerable effort and turned for home. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck.
“Mary belongs to me,” I called after him.
He turned back. “No. She belongs to me.”
Chapter 17
Mary
My chest burned as I looped the track one more time. The cool November air bit my cheeks, a welcome change from the too-hot Texas October we’d had. The regular walkers hugged the inside lane as I jogged past on the outside.
“Lookin’ good, Mary!”
I waved to the older couple who lived on my street and came out to exercise three times a week. “Thanks.”
By the time I made it back around, they’d headed for the gate. I paused to grab my water from the bench. “You done already?”
Mr. Carmichael pointed toward the poles. “Lights didn’t come on. It’ll be black as a raven’s wing out here soon. You best get home too.”
I hadn’t noticed. “Oh yeah. The time change last weekend. They haven’t adjusted the timers. I’ll remind someone tomorrow.”
Mrs. Carmichael pushed a fluff of silver-black hair away from her forehead. “Thanks. C’mon. We’ll give you a ride home.”
“No, thanks. I have another two miles to run.”
Her husband pulled off his Houston Astros cap and scratched his head. “I don’t feel right about that. There’s no one else around tonight.”
“I’m fine,” I said and managed what I hoped was a convincing smile. “You know it’s not going to take me long to make eight laps. And I promise I’m going to run straight off the track, out the gate, and down the well-lit bike path as soon as I’m done.”
“Well, that is true, but if I don’t see you zip down the street in a reasonable amount of time, I’m going to come back. Or worse. I’m going to call your mom.”
Then he laughed.
Mr. Carmichael thought he had jokes.
Truth was, I’d probably be finished before the Carmichaels made it to their car, stood and discussed their post-workout smoothies, and debated whether or not they needed to get almond milk and blueberries for breakfast on the way home.
But I smiled and thanked them because I did appreciate the concern and small-town intimacies of the suburbs. It’d been a rough fall with the breakup and the injury and all the truths I’d discovered about myself and my relationship with Gavin. His weird new association-friendship-alliance with Corey stuck in my gut like broken glass. No one could figure that one out, especially since he still relentlessly pursued me. Wanna go to Starbucks? I just want to talk. Can I walk you out? Do you want to work on that project together?
No. I didn’t want to do anything with Gavin, and even though I believed he was sincere and thought someday we could get back to that innocent place where we’d grown up together, no amount of lemon-filled cupcakes or pink roses placed strategically in my path was going to change my mind. His actions had morphed from sincere and desperate to stalker-like and pathetic. I’d spotted him behind me and Ivy in a movie theater when the lights came up. Had no idea he’d been back there, and he’d disappeared by the time I stumbled up two rows to confront him. Once, he appeared in a booth across a restaurant where a group of us had met to discuss the ski trip. All alone, staring my way, vanishing when I looked again—but he’d paid the bill for my chicken alfredo. Still, the whole time he was being consistently spotted with other jocks and their band of groupie Arrows—especially Corey.
I jogged toward the gate and used the filtered light from surrounding streetlights and distant businesses to leave the athletic complex area of campus and make my way to the main road. It’s not like I didn’t know the place as well as my own backyard, and despite the number of leaves that still clung to the trees, there was enough light from the gas station at the closest intersection to see the path.
I texted my mom. Leaving school. She didn’t need to know the timed field lights had failed to come on and that the school’s security lights hadn’t worked since the week before when either lightning took out the power box—or, as Scout said, Mr. Silva had tried to adjust something. That’d made us all rethink the small-electrical-incident-slash-fire.
I laughed out loud as I thought about his comments, but that and the rustle of my windbreaker didn’t cover the distinct sound of cracking sticks in the brush nearby.
I kept walking.
Squirrel? Racoon? Armad
illo?
The brush kept crackling.
My patience with Gavin had grown too thin. I stomped faster toward the main road as obvious footsteps among fallen leaves picked up behind me.
I turned on him. “Gavin, I swear I’ve had enough of this. You really need to back off.”
A large figure tumbled onto the sidewalk as the bright light of a cell phone flashed in my eyes.
I felt in my pocket for my own phone and turned to run.
I wasn’t afraid.
I also wasn’t an idiot. That body was too big to be Gavin. I just figured I’d accelerate my jog home.
“Mary, wait.”
I turned back. “Jacob? What the heck?”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t scare me.”
“Stupid phone.” He turned the light toward the parking lot. “That flashlight icon shows up ten times a day when I don’t need it. The one time I try to swipe and find it, it’s nowhere.”
“What are you doing here? Football practice is long over. No one’s here.”
“I know. I came back to run.”
“Why would you do that? You guys are playoff bound. Haven’t you worked out enough for one day? I know the coach is killing you.”
“It helps me think. Clears my head. And we don’t get many nights this cool.”
“But you live a ways from here. I thought you ran on the track at the Y or in your own neighborhood or something.”
He pointed the light in my face. “Is there a reason for this interrogation? It’s an open track. I go to school here.”
“Sorry, but it’s… It’s nothing and none of my business. Run where you want, but I wouldn’t do it here. Between the time change and the electrical problems, the timer isn’t right.”
“Obviously.” He killed the light and stepped toward me as his keys dangled at his side. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come here to stumble around in the dark. Do you have cat-vision or something? It’s pitch black out here.”
“I’m just real familiar with the grounds.” He was dressed for a run and couldn’t have known I was there. His appearance had nothing to do with me, and once again, I’d let Gavin’s disturbing habits get in my head. “See you tomorrow.”