by S. L. Naeole
“Robert’s right. I need to wait. If Isis wasn’t Sam’s partner, letting Dad or anyone else know that I’m alive only puts them in more danger. I’m not letting that happen anymore. The killing stops now.”
I pushed past him and headed down the stairs. I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“You’re getting a snack?”
Lem and Stacy were side-by-side in the kitchen doorway, both wearing the same expression. I smiled at them and grabbed a takeout container with chopsticks poking out of the top. “I’m hungry and a girl can’t fight the apocalypse on an empty stomach.”
AT ODDS
When Graham came back, his arms carrying several cases of protein shakes, I felt bad. I felt worse when he dropped them all on his feet in shock at seeing me standing in the kitchen eating a box of noodles.
“Jeez, are you okay?”
He shook off the pain and grabbed me in his arms and squeezed me until I think my ears popped. “Holy crap, Grace, don’t you ever zombie out on me again, you hear me?”
Laughing softly, I nodded. “I promise.”
“I don’t like being freaked out like that. I don’t like not hearing your smartass comments. And I really don’t like being bossed around by Stacy…anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
Graham pushed me away, his face hard and frustrated one minute, irritated and annoyed the next. “Stop saying sorry. Hell, if someone told me what that Lemon guy told you, I’d probably freak out, too.”
“Yeah, and then you’d go on some kind of food rampage and totally wipe out every grocery store from here to Canton,” Stacy quipped before wrinkling her nose. “I…I smell something. I’m gonna go and check it out.”
Graham sniffed the air. “What? Did your nose die too? Because I don’t smell anything.”
“That’s because your nose can only smell extra cheese and bean burritos.”
“Yeah, like you didn’t eat two of them every time I took you to the Taco Tower.”
“And? You ate six!”
“That’s because I needed the energy!”
“For what?!”
“To keep from strangling you! Damn, Stacy, even dead, you’re annoying!”
“You didn’t think I was annoying when we were making out!”
“Duh! That was the only time you ever stopped insulting me!”
“That’s because making out was the only thing you were ever good at!”
The back and forth between the two was yet another thing that I took comfort in. Even if what I knew about myself was different, what I knew about the world and my friends hadn’t changed. Stacy and Graham would always butt heads.
“Okay, you guys. I get it, making out with each other was fun, even with burrito breath, but if you keep it up the neighbors are gonna start thinking something’s up and chances are they’re gonna call the police, and since two of us here are supposed to be dead, and Graham’s not supposed to be living here…”
Stacy quieted and Graham exhaled hotly. I finished the noodles and tossed the box into the trash. Stacy headed to the kitchen door, her face tilted up, her nostrils sinking in and then expanding as she sniffed the air again.
“I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Graham, don’t let her out of your sight. And if Lem comes back-”
“He was here? Again?”
“Yeah. But look, he’s the reason Grace isn’t still the zombie queen of Heath.”
“So the creep who made moves on Grace-”
“Snapped her out of it; yeah.”
“Hey, can you guys stop talking about me like I’m still catatonic? I’m here—talking, eating, getting ready to punch some people,” I reminded them as I positioned myself between them.
“Sorry,” they both said sheepishly.
“Sure. Stacy, go check out whatever it is you needed to; I’ll be fine and if Lem gets back, I’ll tell him thank-you for you.”
Stacy nodded and stepped out of the door, disappearing into the darkness.
Graham stared out after her, his mouth held slightly open. “She’s gonna eat someone again, isn’t she?”
“Yup,” I confirmed.
“You know, I never want to hear you complain about what I eat ever again.”
I chuckled. “You act like some of the stuff you’ve eaten isn’t as gross.”
“Uh-uh. Yeah, I think it’s cool and all that Stacy’s all super-dead-girl and stuff, but it’s not vampire cool. I mean, vampires are sexy! But they’re not eating people like they’re hamburger! I mean, she’s gonna eat someone’s face, Grace! Whoa-that totally rhymed.”
“Okay, look, I won’t complain about you’re eating again; I promise. But, you’ve gotta ease up on Stacy. Okay?”
“Why? I mean, yeah, before I always wanted to kill her, but she’s already dead! And she can’t exactly hurt me, you know? We can finally beat the crap out of each other and not stop!”
My head tossed from side-to-side and my eyes followed. “Seriously? When was the last time you ever hit a girl, Graham?”
“Well…I’ve only ever kinda, sorta hit you.”
“Yeah, so you’re not gonna be beating her up now anymore than you did before. You’ve always tried to avoid getting physical like that; you even let Stacy hurt you just so you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“If that’s what you want to think…”
“Just quit…pointing out the fact that she’s dead. She’s your friend and she needs your support with this. It’s not like what you went through—everything about her life has changed. The only thing that’s changed for you is that you can now get laid.”
“Alright, alright; I’ll lay off the dead comments,” he sighed.
“Good.”
The kitchen door slammed open and we both turned quickly to see who had just burst in. Stacy stood there, her eyes wide, her face plastered with shock.
“How’d you know?”
Graham’s head pulled back in confusion. “Know what?”
“Not you, Princess. You. Grace. How did you know what I wanted to tell Lem?”
“What?” I knew my face mirrored Graham’s in confusion because I felt it.
“When I left, you said you’d tell Lem that I said thank-you. How did you know I wanted to thank him?”
I shrugged and felt my mouth twitch. “I didn’t. At least, I don’t think I did. I guessed.”
Stacy shook her head and her features grew serious. “No. You didn’t guess. You wouldn’t have guessed that I’d want to thank him, not with everything he’s done. Graham’s right; he’s a creep, so there’s no reason for me to want to thank him.
“So I gotta ask: how did you know?”
My head tilted down and I looked at the floor at her feet. A piece of paper had fallen there and I picked it up as I tried to figure out how to answer her. It seemed to be a natural response to me, her wanting to thank Lem for his help. But if I thought more about it, she had a hard time telling Graham thanks for the things he’s done.
Her demonstrations of gratitude tended to be bursts of emotion, rather than simple phrases shared between two people. “Huh,” I said upon realizing this.
“What?” Graham asked as he took the paper from my fingers.
“You’re right, Stacy. Telling me to tell someone thank-you for you isn’t something you would do.”
“So how did you know that I was thinking that?”
“I am hell?”
Stacy and I turned around and looked at Graham. His face was puckered up—all of it. The piece of paper in his hands was open and he was staring at it like it was some kind of calculus test.
“All of these pictures on this note, the heart, the eagle, the iris-”
“Iris?” Stacy snatched the paper away from him and huffed. “Well damn, this whole time we thought it was an eye.”
“Naw, that’s not an eye. An eye’s got eyelashes and usually an eyebrow over it or something. This is just the iris part. Or, you know, it could be pupa.”
“That’s pup
il,” I corrected. “But you’re right. That’s not an eye. Wow, I don’t know why we didn’t realize that before. So what’s with the whole hell thing?”
Graham grinned. “Well, if that’s an iris, then you’ve got I, H, M, E, A and two Ls. That means that this spells ‘I am hell’. Either that or ‘mall hie’; maybe ‘all hime’. ‘Elm hail’? I don’t know; I was pretty good at these when I was a kid, but my brain’s farting or something.”
“No, no; you’re right. This whole time I thought that the doors meant something. But it’s not the doors, it’s what the doors spell out. And yeah, ‘Elm hail just sounds stupid,” Stacy agreed.
“See, that’s what friends do. We help solve problems,” Graham said to me smugly.
“Oh shut-up,” Stacy told him with a roll of her eyes. “You helped solve a puzzle you just admitted any kid could figure out. The problem here is what the hell does ‘I am hell’ even mean? And why was it in my head?”
“Maybe you dated Sam in a past life and he’s just reminiscing?”
My eyes bugged at Graham’s response. And, of course, I blinked when Stacy’s fist pulled back and then snapped forward, landing solidly—almost too solidly—in the center of his gut. He doubled over and clutched her arm, pulling her down as he fell, the whoosh of his breath leaving his body not stopping until his back hit the floor and Stacy lay on top of him.
I braced myself for the retaliation, but this was Graham. He wasn’t going to do anything but lay there. Stacy stood up and held out her hand. He took it and let her pull him up, only her strength was still something she wasn’t used to and his feet rose several inches off the ground before landing with a solid thud.
“You’re getting better,” he told her gruffly.
“You’re not.”
“Yeah, well, all I got with my immortality was beat up.”
“I know. That sucks.”
Graham nodded. And just like that, the fight was over.
They both turned their attention back to me, picking up exactly where they’d left off.
“Okay, so Sam and that Isis chick were partners, right?” Stacy asked.
“That’s what Lem said.”
“So if that’s the case, what if Sam was talking about Isis? I mean, I don’t know what she could do, but she was seriously sick in the head. The things she was saying before Lark and I killed her was crazy.”
I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, my brain suddenly feeling heavy with thought. “Crazy like what?”
“Crazy like how she could control me, make me do things that I didn’t want to do.”
“Isn’t that what Sam said he couldn’t do? The whole zombie-mind-control thing?” Graham noted. “That’s what happened with Erica, right? And Mr. Branke?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “But, I mean, you saw what Erica and Mr. Branke looked like, Graham. They weren’t…there. It’s one thing to be inside your head and not able to get out—like Stacy was in her coma—but it’s something else when you’re basically dead and your body’s just doing things because it’s being told to.”
His eyes lit up with understanding. “Like robots!”
“Exactly,” Stacy agreed. “They were like robots!”
“So, if Isis can control a person’s mind, that means that the person would have to actually have a mind to control. If Erica and Mr. Branke were…dead when you were kidnapped, Graham, that means that Isis wasn’t the one who was helping Sam.”
Graham looked disappointed. “Then who was?”
Stacy’s head bounced in agreement. “Yeah, who was it? I mean, I’m pretty sure there are tons of psychotic angels out there if I’ve only met, like, six, and two of them were total nutjobs and one’s got serious boundary issues. The ratio of crazy angels to not-so-crazy isn’t looking too good if you take Robert out of it because he’s pretty much got no choice but to be all deadly-do-right.”
I looked at Graham, and together we both looked at Stacy in muted surprise.
“What?” she said at our reaction. “My mom made me take extra math tutoring, alright? Sheesh—it’s the only freaking stereotype I live up to…kinda. I’m good with ratios; that’s not a crime.”
“Do you-”
“No, I don’t know how to use an abacus, Graham, so don’t even ask the damn question!”
With his lips tucked between his teeth, Graham pulled out another chair and sat down beside me at the table. I smiled at him and then slightly shook my head, focusing on the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“I don’t know who Sam’s partner was. With everything that’s happened, I don’t really know if I can trust any angel anymore. I knew right away that Isis was bad news; I felt the same way about Sam. But I don’t believe for a single minute that Isis was Sam’s partner.
“You’re right, Stacy. As long as we’re not sure, we really can’t trust any angel that we don’t know. And Graham, if you’re really that hungry, go and order a pizza or something.”
I looked up at Stacy, her face bearing a look of astonishment.
“What?” I asked, turning my attention to Graham, who looked just as stunned.
“You-you…” Graham stuttered.
“We didn’t say anything—nothing at all. You’re reading our minds, Grace.”
“What? No, I’m not!”
“My stomach didn’t even growl. You totally just read my mind,” Graham confirmed.
“Oh dear bananas.”
“You’re totally reading our minds!”
Can you hear me?
I nodded in shock at the sound of Graham’s voice, slightly tinny but full and familiar.
Why’s the rooster cross the road?
“Because he was stuck in the chicken,” I whispered.
“Dude, that’s the joke we learned on the seventh grade camping trip! You actually read my mind!”
Stacy whooped and Graham stood up, bringing me along with him, and swung me around. “This is totally awesome!”
“Why is that awesome?” I asked, more confused now than I had been just ten seconds before.
“Because now you can totally read those angels’ minds and they won’t even know it!” Stacy answered for him.
“Well, I was gonna say that you could hear what Lark was thinking when we…you know…and tell me if I need to improve my technique,” Graham mumbled.
“Oh-my-God, are you serious?” I blurted out.
“What? I’m still a guy! Immortal but still a guy!”
Stacy groaned and I looked away, too embarrassed for him to continue looking at him. “I think the reading of the angels’ minds is a really good idea, but won’t they know that I can do that by reading your thoughts?”
“Only if they actually give a damn about us; Sam didn’t care about what I was thinking or what I knew. He wasn’t beating Graham up to get him to talk. What we think or what we know doesn’t matter to whoever it is that’s trying to kill you; all that matters is hurting you.”
I knew that what she was saying was right, but there was always going to be doubt in my head. Angels have proven time and time again that they’re not the pure, good-doing creatures they tell us they are. They’ve shown me the darkest places they can go to, especially when outcast by-
“Holy crap. Mrs. Deovolente.”
The air left me and I was glad that I was sitting down.
“Mrs. Violent? What does this have to do with her?” Graham said out loud.
“She was an EP, remember? She told me before she died that she didn’t stay with the angels that her family looked after. She wanted to protect the ones that no one wanted to, the ones who had no calls.”
“Okay…what does that have to do with Sam?” The disconnect was plain in Stacy’s posture.
“Sam had a call. He’d been an archangel of death for, God, I don’t know how long. When you have a call, it’s relentless. The voice in your head just keeps going on and on, and if you ignore it, it’ll kill you. Whoever is Sam’s partner couldn’t have had a call.
”
“Why?” Graham asked, interest forcing his eyes wide open.
“Because whoever it was had to keep Erica alive, pretend that she was psychotic, pretend that she actually gave a damn about Graham for almost a year. And then there’s Mr. Branke. He still had to teach. He still had to talk to students and other teachers. And all that time spent hating me and hunting me? When would they ever have the time to answer their call?
“Mrs. Deovolente was Sam’s partner’s EP. I think…I think that she was trying to warn me about whoever it was and she died because of it.”
“So, if whoever she’d been protecting killed her because she was about to tell you the truth, why didn’t they just kill you, too?” Stacy’s question probably would have left me scrambling for an answer a couple of weeks ago, but today I knew what it was. It was so simple.
“Because they don’t want me to die. Sam said so; he said that plans had changed, they didn’t want me dead anymore…not physically. Sam wanted Robert to die first and he wanted me to see it happen. He had Graham and my dad show up because he wanted me to watch them die, too. ”
“But why? Why not just snap his fingers and kill you like he did with Erica and Mr. Branke?”
“You don’t get it,” I said to Graham, his question even easier to solve now that I was starting to see things more clearly. “They were already dead. They weren’t alive, which means that Sam wasn’t in control at all.”
Recognition lit up Stacy’s face, and Graham blinked with awareness. “He was being controlled, too.”
“Yeah. I didn’t get it. I mean, there were times when he was…different, like he actually cared about how I was feeling. And then he was cruel and mean and…cold. And when he kissed me-”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold up. Your brother kissed you?” Graham looked angry and disgusted all at once. I knew how he felt.
“Yeah, but it was weird in a different way than you think. The first time I faced him, he said things that made me think he was attracted to me but he was lying. He lied to me from the moment I met him, and the only time anything ever felt like the truth was when he was hurting me.