Prom Nights from Hell

by Kim Harrison

  Sheba ducked behind the palm and pushed out with her thoughts. Smoke oozed from her nose. “Gabe.”

  Gabe shook his head absently and continued with his search.

  He’d waited half an hour as throngs of girls left the bathroom, drove after drove. Here and there Gabe had felt a weak pull, but nothing at all like that one girl’s raging, suffocating need.

  When three separate groups had all come and gone, Gabe had stopped Jill Stein to ask after the girl.

  “Black hair and a red dress? No, I didn’t see anyone like that in there. I think the bathroom is empty.”

  The girl must have slipped past him somehow.

  Gabe had just returned to the dance floor, brooding over the mystery girl. At least Bryan and Clara and Logan and Libby were having fun. That was good. The rest of the class seemed to be having an exceptionally nasty evening.

  And then, there it was again. Gabe’s head jerked up, feeling the desperation he’d been searching for. Where was she?

  Sheba hissed in frustration. The boy’s mind was entirely sober and singularly closed to her insidious voice. Well, that wasn’t going to stop her. She had other tools.

  “Celeste.”

  It was time the evil girl tormented her own date.

  Sheba leaned lightly on Celeste, suggesting that avenue. After all, Gabe was attractive by human standards. Certainly good enough for Celeste, whose standards were hardly rigorous. Gabe was tall and subtly muscular, with dark hair and symmetrical features. He had pale blue eyes that Sheba personally found a bit repulsive—they were so decidedly un-damned, almost heavenly, ugh!—but that appealed to mortal girls. It was looking into those clear eyes that had made Celeste say yes to this squeaky clean do-gooder’s invitation.

  Do-gooder, indeed. Sheba’s eyes narrowed. Gabe had already been on her list before he insisted on disregarding her here at the prom. This was the very boy who had ruined her plans for the lecherous math teacher—just a little bit of pre-prom fun Sheba had arranged in between making sure that everyone asked exactly the wrong person to the big dance. If Gabe hadn’t confronted Mr. Reese at a critical moment of temptation…Sheba gritted her teeth and sparks flickered out of her ears. She would have ruined the man and the impossibly innocent girl, too. Not that Mr. Reese had had far to fall, but it would have been a fantastic scandal. And now the math teacher was being especially careful, made wary by those same sky-blue eyes. Feeling guilty, even. Considering counseling for his problem. Ugh!

  Gabe Christensen owed Sheba some misery. She would get her due.

  Sheba glared at Celeste, wondering why the girl had made no move toward her date. Celeste was still wrapped around Rob, enjoying Pamela’s pain. Enough fun! There was havoc to be wreaked. Sheba whispered suggestions in Celeste’s mind, nudging her in Gabe’s direction.

  Celeste shrugged away from Rob and glanced toward Gabe, who was still combing through the crowd with his gaze. Her brown eyes settled on his blue for just a second, and then she moved, cringed actually, back into Rob’s arms.

  Odd. Gabe’s light eyes seemed to be almost as repellent to the vicious blonde as they were to Sheba.

  Sheba leaned again, but Celeste—for once—shook her off, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Gabe with Rob’s eager lips.

  Baffled, Sheba cast around for another avenue to destroy the irritating boy, but she was interrupted by something much more important than one good human.

  Cooper Silverdale was simply quivering with rage on one side of the dance floor, glowering at Melissa and Tyson. Melissa had her head on Tyson’s shoulder and was oblivious to the smug grin Tyson aimed in Cooper’s direction.

  It was time to act. Cooper was considering another glass of punch to drown his pain, and he was much too close to passing out for Sheba to allow that. She focused on him, smoke at her ears, and Cooper realized dully that the green punch was revolting. He couldn’t stand any more. He threw his half-empty cup to the floor and turned back to glare at Tyson.

  She thinks I’m pathetic, said the voice in Cooper’s head. No, she doesn’t even think of me at all. But I can make it so she’ll never be able to forget me….

  His head thick with alcohol, Cooper reached back and stroked his hand along the barrel of the gun under his jacket.

  Sheba held her breath. Sparks flew from her ears.

  And then, in that vital second, Sheba was distracted by the knowledge that someone was staring intensely at her own face.

  Here, in the ballroom, that same sucking need, pulling at him—someone drowning, shrieking for help. It had to be the same girl. Gabe had never felt anything so urgent in his life.

  His eyes raked desperately over the couples on the floor, but he couldn’t see her. He paced the edge of the floor, searching the faces of the people on the sidelines. She wasn’t there, either.

  He saw Celeste with yet another boy, but his eyes didn’t pause. If Celeste didn’t claim her ride home soon, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Someone else needed Gabe more.

  The need tugged at him again, yanked hard, and for a moment, Gabe wondered if he was going crazy. Maybe he’d only imagined the girl in the fiery dress. Maybe this sense of frenzied need was just the onset of some delusion.

  At that moment, Gabe’s seeking eyes found what they were searching for.

  Stepping around Heath McKenzie’s big sulking form, Gabe’s eyes locked on a tiny, but brilliant, red flash. There she was—half-hidden behind a fake tree, her earrings glinting like sparklers again—the girl in the red dress. Her dark eyes, deep as the pool he’d imagined her drowning in, met his. The vibrant need was an aura surrounding her. He didn’t have to think about moving toward her. There was probably no way he could have stopped himself if he’d wanted to.

  He was sure he’d never seen this girl before tonight; she was completely unfamiliar.

  Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were composed and careful, but at the same time they cried out to him. They were the focus of the need he felt. He could no more resist their plea than he could tell his heart to stop beating.

  She needed him.

  Sheba watched with disbelief as Gabe Christensen walked straight toward her. She saw her own face in his head and realized that the person Gabe had been looking for was…Sheba.

  She allowed the brief distraction—knowing that Cooper was hers for the taking, that a few minutes’ time wouldn’t save him now—and rejoiced in the delicious irony. So Gabe wanted to be ruined by Sheba personally? Well, she would oblige him. It would make his misery even sweeter knowing that he’d chosen it himself. She straightened up in her hell-hound dress, letting it caress her figure suggestively. She knew what any human male would have to feel when he examined this dress.

  But the exasperating boy was focused on her eyes.

  It was dangerous to look straight into the eyes of a demoness. Humans who didn’t look away fast enough could get trapped there. And then they were stuck, pining after the demoness forever, burning for her…

  Biting back a smile, Sheba met his gaze, staring deep into his sky-colored eyes. Silly human.

  Gabe stopped a few short feet from the girl, close enough that he wouldn’t have to shout over the loud music. He knew he was staring too intently—she would think he was rude, or some kind of freak. But she stared back, just as intent, her deep eyes probing his.

  He opened his mouth to introduce himself, when suddenly the girl’s careful expression melted into one of shock. Shock? Or horror? Her pale lips fell apart, and he heard a little gasp escape them. Her stiff posture crumpled, and she began to collapse.

  Gabe jumped toward her and caught her in his arms before she could fall.

  Sheba’s knees buckled when her fires went out. Her internal flame died, sucked dry, snuffed like a candle in a vacuum.

  The room was not so cold anymore, and she could smell nothing more than sweat, cologne, and stale, conditioned air. She could no longer taste the delicious misery she’d created. She couldn’t taste anything but her own dry mout
h.

  But she could feel the strong arms of Gabe Christensen holding her up.

  The girl’s dress was soft and warm. Maybe that was the problem, Gabe thought as he pulled her toward him. Maybe the heat of the crowded room was too much combined with her heavy dress. Anxiously, Gabe brushed the silky hair away from her face. Her forehead seemed cool enough and her soft skin wasn’t clammy with sweat. All the while, her stunned eyes never wavered from his.

  “Are you okay? Can you stand? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “I’m fine,” the girl said in a low, purring voice. Despite the purr, her voice was just as stunned as her eyes. “I…I can stand.”

  She straightened up, but Gabe didn’t let her go. He didn’t want to. And she wasn’t pulling away. Her small hands had crept up to rest on his shoulders, like they were dancing partners.

  “Who are you?” she asked in that throaty voice.

  “Gabe—Gabriel Michael Christensen,” he elaborated with a grin. “And you are?”

  “Sheba,” she said, her dark eyes widening. “Sheba…Smith.”

  “Well, would you like to dance then, Sheba Smith? If you feel well enough.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, half to herself. “Yes, why not?”

  Her eyes never left his.

  Not moving from where they were, Gabe and Sheba began swaying to the rhythm of yet another wretched song. This time, the horrid music didn’t offend Gabe as much.

  Gabe put it together then. New girl. Amazing dress. Sheba. This was Logan’s date, the one who’d asked him to the prom and then wanted nothing more to do with him. For a half second, Gabe worried if it was wrong for him to infringe on his friend’s date. But the worry passed quickly.

  For one thing, Logan was happy with Libby. There was no sense in interrupting something that was clearly meant to be.

  For another, Sheba and Logan were clearly not meant to be.

  Gabe had always had a good instinct for that—for the personalities that belonged together, for compatible natures that would pull together harmoniously. He’d been the butt of many jokes about matchmaking, but he didn’t mind. Gabe liked people to be happy.

  And this intense girl with the deep pools in her eyes—Sheba—did not belong with Logan.

  That desperate sense of need had calmed when he’d touched her. Gabe felt much better with her in his arms—holding her seemed to soothe the strange call. She was safe here, no longer drowning, no longer lost. Gabe was afraid to let her go, worried that the burning need would return.

  It was an odd first for Gabe, this feeling of being in exactly the right place, of being the only one that belonged here. It wasn’t that he’d never had a girlfriend before—girls liked Gabe, and he’d had many casual relationships. But they never lasted. There was always someone else they belonged with. None of them really needed Gabe, except as a friend. And they’d always stayed good friends.

  It had never been like this. Was this where Gabe belonged? Shielding this slender girl, holding her safe in his arms?

  It was silly to think so fatalistically. Gabe tried hard to act normal.

  “You’re new at Reed River, aren’t you?” he asked her.

  “I’ve only been here a few weeks,” she confirmed.

  “I don’t think we have any classes together.”

  “No, I would have remembered if I’d been close to you before.”

  It was an odd way of phrasing it. She stared into his eyes, her hands clinging gently to his shoulders. Instinctively, he pulled her a little closer.

  “Are you having a good time tonight?” he asked.

  She sighed, a deep sigh from the center of her being. “I am now,” she said, oddly rueful. “A very good time.”

  Trapped! Like an idiot, like a new-spawned whelp, a novice, a rookie!

  Sheba leaned into Gabe, unable to resist. Unable to want to resist. She stared into his heavenly eyes and had the most ridiculous urge to sigh.

  How had she not seen the signs?

  The way goodness itself surrounded him like a shield. The way her suggestions bounced right off him harmlessly. The way the only ones safe from her evil tonight—those little bubbles of happiness outside of her control—were the people he’d touched and interacted with, his friends.

  The eyes alone should have been warning enough!

  Celeste was smarter than Sheba. At least her instincts had kept her away from this dangerous boy. Once she was free of his piercing gaze, she’d kept a safe distance between them. Why hadn’t Sheba understood the reason behind this? And the reason Gabe had chosen Celeste in the first place. Of course he’d been drawn to Celeste! It all made sense now.

  Sheba swayed to the beat that rumbled through the air, feeling the security of his body around her, protecting her. Tiny, unfamiliar tendrils of happiness twisted their way through her empty core.

  No—not that! Not happiness!

  If she was already feeling happy, then better things couldn’t be too far behind. Was there no way to avoid the horrible wonder of love?

  That wasn’t very likely when you were in an angel’s arms.

  Not a true angel. Gabe didn’t have wings, he’d never had them—he wasn’t one of those sappy birdbrains who’d traded feathers and eternity for human love. But one of his parents had done just that.

  Gabe was fully half-angel—though he didn’t have a clue about his nature. If he’d had any idea, Sheba would have heard that in his mind and escaped this divine horror. Now it was only too obvious to Sheba—this close, she could smell the scent of asphodel clinging to his skin. And, clearly, he’d inherited his angel-parent’s eyes. The heaven-blue eyes that should have been a dead giveaway, if Sheba hadn’t been so wrapped up in her evil plotting.

  There was a reason even experienced demons like Jezebel were wary of angels. If it was hazardous for a human to stare into a demon’s eyes, it was doubly so for a demon to get locked into an angel’s. If ever a demon metan angel’s gaze for too long, pfffffft!—out went the fires of hell and the demon was trapped until the angel gave up on saving him.

  Because that’s what angels did. They saved.

  Sheba was an eternal being, and she was trapped for however long Gabe decided to keep her.

  A full angel would have known what Sheba was at once, and driven her out if he were strong enough, or given her a wide berth if he wasn’t. But Sheba could imagine what her presence would feel like to someone with Gabe’s instinct to save. Innocent of the knowledge he needed to understand, Sheba’s damned state must have been like a siren’s call.

  She stared helplessly into Gabe’s beautiful face, her body filling with happiness, and wondered how long the torture would last.

  Already too long to save her perfect prom.

  Without her hellfire, Sheba had no influence over the mortals here. But she was still fully aware, watching helpless and disgustingly blissful, as it all fell apart.

  Cooper Silverdale gasped in horror as he looked at the gun glistening in his shaking hand. What was he thinking? He shoved the weapon back into its hiding place and half ran to the bathroom, where he violently vomited the punch into the sink.

  Cooper’s stomach problems interrupted Matt and Derek’s fistfight, which was just warming up in the men’s room. The two friends squinted through their swollen eyes at each other. Why were they fighting? Over a girl that neither of them even liked? How stupid! Suddenly, they were interrupting each other in their urgent need to apologize. With smiles on split lips and arms around shoulders, they headed back to the ballroom.

  David Alvarado had given up his plans to jump Heath after the dance, because Evie had forgiven him for disappearing with Celeste. Her cheek was soft and warm against his now as they swayed to the slow music, and there was no way he would hurt her by disappearing again, not for any reason.

  David was not the only one who felt that way. As if the new song was magical rather than insipid, the dancers in the big ballroom each moved instinctively toward the person they should ha
ve come with in the first place, the one that would transform the night’s misery into happiness.

  Coach Lauder, lonely and depressed, looked up from the unappetizing cookies straight into Vice Principal Finkle’s sad eyes. She looked lonely, too. The coach walked toward her, smiling hesitantly.

  Shaking her head and blinking her eyes like someone trying to escape a nightmare, Melissa Harris pulled away from Tyson and ran for the exit. She would find the concierge and get a cab…

  Like a rubber band that had been stretched too far, the atmosphere at Reed River’s prom now snapped back with a vengeance. If Sheba had been herself, she would have pulled that rubber band until it exploded into pieces. But now all the misery and wrath and hate vanished. The human minds had been stuck in their grip too long. With relief, everyone at the prom relaxed into happiness, grasped at love with two hands.

  Even Celeste was tired of the mayhem. She stayed in Rob’s arms, shuddering slightly at the memory of those perfect blue eyes, as one slow song melted into the next.

  Neither Sheba nor Gabe even noticed the song change.

  All her delicious pain and misery destroyed! Even if she did get free, Sheba was destined for middle school now. Where was the injustice?!

  And Jezebel! Had she planned this? Tried to distract Sheba from the fact that a dangerous half-angel was here tonight? Or would she be disappointed? Was she really there in encouragement? Sheba had no way to find out. She wouldn’t even be able to see Jezebel now—whether the horned demoness was laughing or chagrined—with her fires extinguished.

  Disgusted with herself, Sheba sighed in happiness. Gabe was just so good. And, in his arms, she felt good, too. She felt wonderful.

  Sheba simply had to get free before happiness and love ruined her! Would she be trapped with some feather-back’s heavenly offspring forever?

  Gabe smiled at her, and she sighed again.

  Sheba knew what Gabe would be feeling now. Angels were never happier than when they were making someone else happy, and the bigger the lift in that other person’s spirit, the more ecstatic the angel. As perfectly miserable and damned as Sheba had been, Gabe must be flying now—it would be almost as good as having wings. He would never want to let her go.