Milayna

by Michelle K. Pickett

  “Chay!” I screamed and grabbed his shirt, pulling him back. “It’s too late.” I let go of his shirt and rubbed my temples. “It’s spreading too fast.” I shook my head. Tears zigzagged on my face.

  “I need to call the fire department.” Muriel bounced on the balls of her feet.

  Not yet. The man will still get hurt. We can’t call yet.

  “Oh, I already did that,” Lily said.

  I swung around and shoved her shoulder so hard that she stumbled backward into one of her demi-demon freak friends. “You didn’t.”

  Lily looked at me with wide eyes. “Yes, I had to report a burning building. You wouldn’t want the fire to spread?”

  Fire. Unbearable heat. A man. A beam. Pain. Fear. Nothingness.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed my temples. “My vision hasn’t changed. There’s going to be an accident. A firefighter.” Before anyone realized what I was about to do, I raised my head, pulled back my fist, and landed a hit across Lily’s jaw. Pain radiated up my arm from the impact. I hoped that meant it was a good hit on her end.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” I screamed. My gaze darted around the group. “Do any of you realize you’ve probably just killed a man? Each and every one of you deserves to burn in Hell with Azazel.”

  I could hear the sirens in the distance. They were close. My stomach churned and bile rose in my throat, burning it.

  Jake and Steven ran up the drive, shouldering through Lily and Shayla and knocking them out of the way.

  “What’s going on? Did someone call the fire department?” Jake looked from me to Chay.

  “Yeah, but one of firefighters is going to get hurt.” I bent at the waist and rested my elbows on my thighs, my head in my hands. I was dizzy, so dizzy, the effects of the vision starting to overwhelm me. I tried to keep functioning, to keep talking and telling the others what needed to be done, what was going to happen, but the vision was strong.

  Stop it. Burning. Pain. Stop it.

  The images and sensations were washing over me like waves in a hurricane. Everything played behind my eyes as though it were a movie…

  The firefighter walks to the garage door. He breaks through with an ax. Something catches his eye, and he steps inside. Black smoke fills the garage. Red-and-orange flames roil across the ceiling above his head. The man looks up. He sees the ceiling… he knows. I feel his panic. He turns toward the door, but it’s already too late. The beam collapses. It hits him in the head and knocks him to the floor, landing on top of him. I feel his bones crack when the beam lands on his chest, hear his scream of pain.

  “Milayna.” Chay pulled my face to him. “Open your eyes.” His voice was smooth and soft.

  I opened my eyes and looked into his blue-green stare. He was blurry. Watery. I didn’t realize I’d been crying until then. “I’m okay. I can’t stop… I can’t stop shaking.” I wiped my eyes with my fingers. As soon as I closed my eyes, the vision started to play…

  The heat is suffocating. I can feel it crawling down my throat and into my lungs with every breath the firefighter takes. His mask was knocked off when he fell. His arms are pinned. He can’t reach his breathing apparatus. Every breath he takes is a deadly mixture of smoke, and blistering heat burning away delicate tissue.

  Pain! He kicks his feet back and forth. He’s lying in a puddle of fire. His suit isn’t on fire… but the heat… the heat is too much. He starts to feel lightheaded; the room tilts to one side and then the other. He tries to scream, but only manages a croak. He looks at the door and sees another firefighter coming to get him. He has a moment of peace… ’I’m going to be okay.’

  And then the flames reach the gas cans.

  The blast blows the man at the door backward. It rains fire down on the man under the beam. Pain. He screams and thrashes under the flames eating his flesh like worms boring into his skin. Pain. His hair is scorched and burned away, and the flames begin their assault on the flesh below. Pain. It crawls over him like it’s a living thing enjoying the torture it’s exacting. The man is still screaming, but his voice has long since quieted. Pain. His lips are gone. His face is bubbling and turning black as the fire continues its feast. Pain. His skin begins to flake and float away like ash. Pain. Pain. Pain. Then nothing. The man is quiet. He’s gone.

  The vision ended. I sucked in a deep breath and opened my eyes. “We need to stop him from going into the garage.” I grabbed Chay’s arm. My hands trembled, and my eyes were full of tears. “He’s going to die if we don’t stop him.” Bits and pieces of the vision began replaying in my mind.

  Burning flesh. Explosion. Gas cans.

  “Which one?” When I didn’t answer, Chay shook me. I closed my eyes so I could concentrate. “Which one, Milayna?”

  I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to find the man. “I don’t know. I… in the vision… his face… it’s burned… I can’t tell! I can’t tell! What if I can’t find him in time? What if—?”

  “Listen! Focus on his face. Concentrate. What does he look like before the flames reach his face?”

  “Him!” I pointed at a man with an ax.

  Chay took off. He ran smack into the man who was walking, ax in hand, toward the blazing garage.

  “Sir, that group of kids over there started this. We saw them in the yard just before the fire.”

  “Son, tell it to the police. Move out of my way.”

  “But, by the time the police get here, they’ll have taken off. Can’t you do some kind of arrest?”

  “No. I’m only going to ask you one more time to move.”

  “But—”

  The fireman pushed Chay out of the way and walked toward the garage. He was just a foot away when the roof collapsed. The fire hit the gas cans, and an explosion knocked him backward.

  “It’s gone,” I whispered, pressing the palms of my hands over my eyes to block out the memory of seeing the man burn alive, his skin bubbling and turning black, hearing his screams pleading for help. The feel of life draining from his body.

  The group of demi-demons took off before the police arrived. We were interviewed and, of course, lied to the police. Somehow, we didn’t think they’d buy a story of fat, roly-poly demons with burning fingers throwing fireballs at the garage. So we told them a group of kids started the fire. No, we didn’t know why and no, we didn’t know who they were.

  “I better call my dad,” I said after I talked to the police. Thankfully, the garage wasn’t attached to the house, so it wasn’t damaged. Dazed, I walked inside. I didn’t make it to the phone. I slid down the wall to the floor and started crying. The vision was horrible. The worst I’d had. I could almost feel what the man felt, the pain from the flames licking at his flesh and the smoke choking the air from his lungs.

  Chay walked in and sat next to me. I turned to him.

  “A bad one, huh?” I nodded. “They’re getting worse.” He put my hair behind my ear. “It’s okay to be upset, Milayna. I haven’t had visions like yours, but judging by the few I’ve had, I can imagine they’re terrible.”

  I looked at him, tears flooding my eyes. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him. Burying my face in his neck, I cried. He held me silently. Muriel came in and called my parents. Chay sat on the hard tile floor in my kitchen holding me until my dad got home. He ran his fingers up and down my back; occasionally, he’d smooth my hair back from my face, placing it gently behind my ear. He didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

  When my dad pulled up, Chay kissed me softly on the forehead and eased himself up. He went outside, told my dad what happened, and then went home.

  My dad helped me up from the floor. “You want to talk about it?” His voice was soft and his eyes full of concern and love.

  I shook my head. “No. Not now.”

  “Okay. When you do, I’m here to listen.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m so tired. I think I want to lie down for
a while.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right outside, dealing with this mess.”

  I climbed the stairs, each one an effort. I was always tired and weak after a vision, but after that one especially. Maybe because it was such an emotional one. Maybe because the images were so vivid… so grotesque. I wasn’t sure. All I wanted was to fall into bed, pull my soft comforter over me, and block out the world.

  Just a few hours. That was all I needed.

  Then I’d be ready to fight back.

  Three weeks until my birthday.

  Monday, I overslept. I was standing over the kitchen sink, gulping down cereal, when my dad walked in.

  “I have to stay home to meet the insurance adjuster about the garage. You want to cut school and have lunch with your old man?”

  “I probably should go to school… but yeah, I don’t want to. I’d rather have lunch with an angel.”

  My dad laughed. “Good. It’s a date.”

  After the adjuster came, looked around the garage, and asked a million and one stupid questions, it was one o’clock. My dad took me to my favorite restaurant for lunch. They had the best hamburgers in the state.

  “How come the demons never try to come into the house?” I took a bite of my olive burger and groaned. It was so good.

  “Our houses are protected from them.”

  “Like with a magic spell?” I looked at him over the rim of my milkshake. The restaurant might have the best burgers, but the milkshakes weren’t nearly as good as Chay’s uncle’s were.

  “Yeah. They can come into the house, but they lose their powers. That’s one reason the demi-demons and Evils are always starting fights.” He took a big bite of his fried-egg burger, and the yellow yolk oozed between the slices of bun. I almost gagged. Ick.

  “I don’t get it. What does fighting have to do with our houses being protected?”

  “If they can pull us away from the house long enough, they might be able to find a way to break through the protective barrier.” He took a swig of Coke and stole an onion ring off my plate.

  “Makes sense, I guess. You said that was one reason? What else?”

  “Well, they use the fights to distract us and give the demons a chance to grab the person they’re after—”

  “Yeah, I remember from the football game.” I shuddered.

  “And they fight to weaken the group. Between the constant fights and the visions, the emotional and physical stress starts to take its toll and you become weaker. And that gives them an opportunity to complete their first objectives—break the protective barrier and grab their target.” He took another bite of his disgusting egg-covered hamburger. Yellow slime dripped onto his plate.

  “Hmm, they’re busy bastards, aren’t they?” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. I just swore in front of my dad… so not cool. He cocked an eyebrow at my slip. “Sorry.”

  “Eh, that’s okay.” He waved off my words with a flick of his hand. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Dad, I need to tell you… I… um, I’m sorry I got so mad at you about this whole angel thing. I love you, even if you are a freak.” I smiled at him, and he laughed.

  “I love you too. And I’m sorry it was sprung on you the way it was. I was hoping to ease into it, but things started moving too fast.”

  “It’s okay. We’re good, right?”

  “Of course we are,” he said with a nod. “A little thing like a pack of demons isn’t going to come between us.”

  “Nope, no demon is coming between us, but if you don’t leave my onion rings alone, we’re gonna have some major trouble,” I said with a laugh when he stole another ring.

  When we got home after lunch, I went straight to my bedroom and crashed. He was right. The constant visions, fights, nightmares, and stress were taking a toll. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

  I slept until my mom woke me up for dinner that evening.

  ***

  By Tuesday, I felt better and that afternoon, I let out more stress and frustration at swim practice. I swam as hard as I could. I loved how it felt when my body sliced through the water, how my muscles burned when I pushed myself to go faster, farther. I beat my best time. I guess swimming when demons were chasing me was good for my game.

  When practice was done, I stayed in the pool, floating, listening to the whooshing the water made when it filled my ears. Flipping my swim cap off, I let my hair float around me, closing my eyes and relaxing my muscles. I wanted to stay there forever, or at least until the Azazel crap was over.

  “Outta the pool, Jackson,” my coach yelled just before she started flipping the lights off.

  “Want to stake out the clearance racks at the mall?” Muriel asked when I walked into the locker room.

  “Sure,” I said, but I was starting to feel lightheaded. The room started to tilt, and the lockers spun around me.

  “Milayna? Are you having a vision?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. It’s… different.”

  I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt sweat mix with the pool water and snake down my back. My hands were slick with it. It broke out on my forehead, running down the side of my face.

  Muriel’s voice sounded distorted and far away. I braced a hand against the lockers to steady myself. The room faded even more, and then the vision broke through.

  A man. His back is to me. A gray figure laughing.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged them, willing the vision to give me more information. Show me more of the person.

  Shaking hands. One white, the other a sickly gray. The sound of laughter.

  My head pounded and my hand burned as if I were the one touching the demon.

  Dark hair. His shoulder leaning against the wall and his finger hooked in his belt loop. The demon laughs. Lily sidles over, and the man kisses her.

  Slowly, the room righted itself. The lockers stopped spinning and my vision returned to normal, but my stomach still cramped. I sat and bent forward on the bench, wrapping both arms around my middle. I gritted my teeth against the intense pain, not sure why my stomach still hurt. Usually, when the visions ended, so did the physical effects.

  End it, Milayna. Or I will.

  “Oh!” I jumped up, nearly falling backward over the bench.

  “What?” Muriel stood next to me and looked around. “What happened?”

  “It’s like Azazel was talking to me.”

  Muriel and I gathered our things and hurried out of the locker room. I wanted to get home. The vision turned my blood to ice. I couldn’t stop shaking. I needed to go home where I felt safe. But I wasn’t safe anywhere. None of us were. Not really.

  ***

  Two weeks, four days until my birthday.

  We sat at our usual table at lunch Friday afternoon. Drew’s mouth was stuffed full of fries when he asked, “Hey, who wants to go out for a movie tonight?”

  “Me,” Muriel said a little too fast. I smiled to myself. They were so into each other.

  “I’m up for it.” I looked at Chay.

  “I can’t.” Chay shook his head. “I have a project due in American History.”

  “You waited until now to start that? That’s a third of our total grade, Chay.” I looked at him with wide eyes.

  “Yeah. I’ve been procrastinating.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Ya think?”

  In the end, it was Drew, Muriel, me, Jake, Jeff, and his girlfriend Trina who went to the movie and out for burgers. “What’s up with you and Jake?” Muriel looked in the bathroom mirror and rubbed on some lip gloss with the tip of her pinkie.

  “What do you mean?” I looked at her, my brows drawn over my eyes.

  “He’s being awful attentive tonight,” Muriel said and looked at me sideways.

  “Really?”

  Muriel shrugged, and I followed her out of the bathroom and to our restaurant booth.

  We went out to dinner at a local diner. It wa
s going fine. Everyone seemed to be having fun, joking and telling funny stories that took our minds off everything happening in our lives.

  A man. Gray hand. Shaking hands.

  It was just a flash, not a full-blown vision, but a flash of images scrolling through my mind, gone as fast as it came. I tried to shake it off without anyone knowing anything was wrong.

  “Are you okay?” Drew asked.

  “Yeah, why?” I pulled a fry through my puddle of ketchup.

  “You zoned out for a minute.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled at him.

  Everyone started talking at once. Conversations overlapped and I tried to focus. I laughed at jokes, answered questions, and joined in telling embarrassing stories about people. Drew was in the middle of a story about our horrendous English teacher when I happened to look over his shoulder and spot Jeff walking back to our table from the restroom.

  He stopped at a table and smiled wide at whoever was sitting there. Drew was blocking my view. Jeff talked for a few seconds, then pulled out a chair and sat down. He talked and laughed for a little over five minutes before he returned to our table.

  When the group got up to leave, my gaze landed on Jeff’s mystery table. I sucked in a breath and could feel the color drain from my face. Lily and Shayla sat at the table, eating burgers and fries. And Jeff stopped and talked with them like nothing was wrong.

  What’s going on? This is exactly what Azazel wants. I’m starting to doubt everyone.

  My mind kept going back to the images and the warning Chay gave me. You don’t know who you can trust, Milayna.

  After dinner, we all went to a movie. The girls and guys argued over what to watch, gory versus lovey. Finally, we settled on horror. In the middle of the movie, another flash of images passed in front of my eyes.

  Gray hands. Gray face with a grotesque smile. A man with his back to me. Burgundy Abercrombie hoodie and black boots with silver buckles.

  Cold panic stabbed me. Jake was wearing a burgundy Abercrombie hoodie. I couldn’t remember what type of shoes he had on. I peeked at the floor, but the theater was too dark for me to see.

  My hands started shaking, and bile rose in the back of my throat.

  My dad said demis feel calm around each other, that being together was soothing. I don’t feel that with Jake. I feel unbalanced, not at all calm. Chay warned me. I don’t know who I can trust. Why didn’t I listen?