by Nissa Leder
Clearly the best thing about Seattle so far.
I scan the crowded restaurant, ignoring all the auras, and try to find Tuck. I check my smart watch. 4:35. When I’d found him after school, he said he’d be here at 4:30. A whistle to my left sends me turning on my heel, and I see Tuck straining and waving from a booth in the back corner near the carryout counter. His gold aura fades to gray at the edges, so I know he’s worried.
So am I.
Customers, some of them familiar faces from CHS, turn and look in my direction. Awkward.
I take a deep breath and start walking, weaving through tables and dodging waiters and waitresses carrying huge pie pans. My stomach growls. Hope this place will take Dad’s card because I’m not leaving without trying a slice.
Tuck lowers himself back into the booth when I’m close enough. He doesn’t look happy.
I mean, it’s not like I meant to light up in front of Darien. It was a total accident. A total accident I didn’t exactly explain to my QB. I mean, the QB. I refuse to give in to this antiquated summoning. I’m happy to help Darien and work with him, but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t care how blue his stupid eyes are.
“All right, talk.” Tuck folds his hands as I slide in the booth.
“Hello to you, too,” I say.
“This is serious, Rachel.”
“Look, I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I say, explaining about my glove.
“Well, couldn’t you have waited five minutes to take your gloves off?” Tuck asks. Clearly, he’s not open to my explanation.
“You try wearing gloves all day every day and see how you like it,” I snap. “Do you think I wear these stupid things because they’re cozy? They itch like the dickens, and I get really sick of them. You know, if Darien had already known the truth, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”
Tuck growls in frustration and stares at the ceiling. He’s losing his patience with me. After several moments, he takes a deep breath and refocuses.
“Okay, you and I will have to work together for however long our Triad is active,” he says. “It’s going to be critical for us to be on the same page where D is concerned. So until the two of you pop out some kids and pass on the gifts, we have to figure out a way to find common ground.”
“Um, there will be no popping babies,” I say, totally ignoring his point. “I don’t want any part of this whole ‘till death do us part’ patriarchal-go-forth-and-multiply crap. I’m his counterpart. You’re his Priest. I’m not marrying either of you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Tuck says, raising his voice.
Three tables of people stop their conversations to see what we’re arguing about.
“Mind your own damn business,” he says.
He stares them down until they’re once again slurping soda and stuffing their faces with pizza.
Geez. There’s no passive-aggressive nature in his character …
“Rachel, I appreciate this whole desire you have for independence,” he says. “There are days when I’d rather take some time off and deny what I am, too. But there are facts. I’m the Priest. You’re the Lightbearer. We’re both married to him whether we want to be or not. Listen to me when I tell you this: You can’t fight your destiny. I’ve tried.”
I roll my eyes. “Easy for you to say. You get to choose your other half. And spare me the lecture. You sound like my father.”
“Well, I’ve never met the man, but he’s right. You’ve already felt the summoning. You probably even tried to fight it, but you couldn’t drown out the call. You’re here, right where it led you. It doesn’t matter what you want. The bond is already there.”
I can’t really argue with his logic, so I cross my arms and glare at him.
“Are we going to order?” I ask. “I’m starving.”
Tuck raises his brows, as if to say “Seriously?” But then he shrugs.
“Are you a carnivore or an herbivore?”
“Herbivore.”
“Figures.”
He gets up and walks to the counter to order a pie.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. Tuck and I are two parts of a Triad in the Guardians of Elysium.
That means that someone from our families, like a gazillion generations back, volunteered to infuse themselves with angel blood, in my case, demon blood in Darien’s case, or both in Tuck’s case, in order to create teams of elite fighters to combat the dark forces that prey on humankind.
We only have traces of celestial or demonic blood running through our veins, but it’s strong enough to make us a crucial part of the Guardians. Triads live all over the world and take orders from the Guardians, which is made up of a hierarchy of angels operating underground to keep evil at bay. When members of a Triad have worked long enough and have offspring old enough to join the fight, they pass their gift on to their children and retire.
Before she died, my mother passed it to me.
I was only eleven.
She was still so young and beautiful when she was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. By the time she had her hysterectomy, it was too late. The cancer was everywhere. We were living in Chicago at the time. The night she passed on her gift, we’d had a special girl’s night. We both got dressed up, and went out to a nice dinner at a restaurant with linen tablecloths and a tuxedoed violinist. We both ordered our favorite pasta and shared a piece of chocolate cake. My dad and my brother, Blake, had done the same, except they had pizza and went bowling.
When we came home, we all gathered in the living room. Me and Mom on one side and Dad and Blake on the other. They took our hands. We closed our eyes. Energy passed palm-to-palm and tingled our skin like tiny shocks of static electricity. The lights flickered, and my blood felt hot in my veins.
That was it.
I was a Lightbearer.
Three weeks later, Mom was gone.
Six months after that, Blake’s Summoning led us to Tennessee.
When Blake and Valerie met, it had been love at first sight.
They were married last year, after five years of fighting the darkness that hides in the peaks and valleys of the Appalachian Mountains.
But what I want is a choice. What I want is freedom. If it weren’t for the blood of my ancestors, would I still think Darien Crain is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen? Would my heart still speed every time I look into those gorgeous blue eyes? Would I still have to fight an overwhelming impulse to touch him? Or would all of those urges be absent without my Inheritance?
Tuck slides back into the booth, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Okay, I just ordered a veggie supreme, and Gran called while I was in line. Looks like she’s got reinforcements on the way. One of the Guardians’ emissaries will be at his house tonight to explain everything and stick around to train him.”
I shake my head. I’m relieved, but, at the same time, I still think it’s completely inexcusable. “He’s years behind. How is anyone, even an emissary, going to make up for all that lost time?”
Tuck grins. “Because it’s not just any emissary. It’s Uriah Donnelly.”
All my arguments rest on my tongue, unspoken. I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t help it. Uriah Donnelly is a legend in the Guardians of Elysium. He’s the only Hellwalker in history powerful enough to operate alone without being part of a Triad. He’s like some mythological, untouchable god. Not someone who knocks on your door one night and offers to train a group of teenagers.
“Finally,” Tuck says. “Something impresses Rachel Sharp.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’m impressed. I’m shocked. I’m —”
“Indescribably stoked that our Triad is going to be trained by the best Guardian who’s ever lived?”
“And there’s that,” I say. “But why? How? I mean, Uriah Donnelly doesn’t train people. Doesn’t he, like, have a full staff for that?”
“That’s because Darien Crain isn’t just anyone,” Tuck says. “Darien’s grandfather trai
ned Uriah Donnelly. Thomas Haley adopted Uriah and raised him as a brother to Ellen—that was Darien’s mother—until he was of age. By then, he was already powerful enough that the Guardians brought him into HQ and put him to work there. Top secret stuff.”
“Do you know how amazing this is?” I say, grabbing Tuck’s hand and squeezing his fingers.
I can’t help it. I’m totally fangirling and I don’t even bother to hold it back.
“I know, right?”
“Know what?” someone else says.
When I look toward the voice, Darien is standing at the carryout counter, looking from me to Tuck and then back at me. Then, his eyes zero in on our linked hands. He doesn’t understand any of this yet, but the Summoning is already making him act completely out of character.
I can hear his heart pick up speed. It pounds hard in his chest, out of rhythm with mine. I release Tuck’s hand and try to meet Darien’s eyes, but he won’t look at me. He’s clenching his jaw so hard, his teeth will probably grind to dust, and the vein in his neck is popping out, like he’s fighting the urge to kill someone.
“Hey, D,” Tuck says. “Look who I found. Come sit with us.”
Tuck’s trying to keep his voice light, trying to assure Darien there’s nothing going on, but the Summoning is strong, and the Inheritance is making him unstable. Unpredictable. He needs to go home. Everything will be fine once he knows the truth.
Darien holds Tuck’s eyes for what feels like an hour. I clench my fists beneath the table, waiting. Finally, though, he breaks away, turns, and storms away from the booth. Tuck scrambles after him just as our pizza arrives.
My stomach growls, but I can’t eat a bite.
One minute, I’m staring Tuck down like he’s my enemy. The next, I’m in the men’s bathroom, bracing myself against the wall beside the urinals. I don’t even remember how I got here. I don’t remember walking away or pushing open the door.
“D, I need you to calm down.”
Tuck has followed me, but if he knows what’s good for him he’ll just turn and walk away.
I blink.
Flashes of Rachel Sharp’s fingers entwined with Tuck’s replay in my mind like game footage. My brain pulses in my skull, and my blood races. I try to breathe. Slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
Repeat.
Tuck’s hand comes down on my shoulder.
Before I realize I’m moving, I grab Tuck’s shoulders and slam them against the wall. I bring my forearm to his throat and press.
He coughs, turning his head to the side so he can breathe.
“D, think about what you’re doing,” he says, straining.
I blink, realizing what I’ve done. This is Tuck. This is my best friend.
What is going on with me?
I turn away, doubling over with my hands on my knees.
He comes up behind me.
“It’s okay, D. It’s all right. I know how you feel about Rachel, and I would never, never do anything to screw up our friendship. We were just talking. We were actually talking about you.”
The guilt drenches me like a heavy rain. What is happening to me? I just slammed my best friend into a wall over a girl I barely know. A friend who stood by me, even after Ava and I got together. The irony doesn’t escape me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I can’t even look at him.
“It’s okay, D,” Tuck says. “No harm done.”
I need to get out of here. I need to go home. But the thought of facing Rachel after storming off like a jealous psycho makes me feel sick.
“Look, Darien, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I think you need to go home. Take a couple days off. You’ve had a rough time since Pops died, and I think you just need to deal with everything. Stop trying to handle everything on your own.”
I nod. Maybe he’s right. More accurately, I probably need to check myself in somewhere.
Something’s going on with me, and whatever it is, it’s making me crazy.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’d better go. I promised Gran I’d pick up the pizza after practice.”
My stomach ties itself in a complicated knot as I walk across the tile and push open the door. The last thing I want to do is face Rachel, but I can’t stay in the bathroom forever, and I can’t go home emptyhanded.
I can feel Tuck’s eyes on me as I go, but I don’t look back.
When I open the bathroom door, my eyes zero in on the booth where Tuck and Rachel had been sitting. A pizza rests on its stand at the table, but Rachel is gone.
I swallow the lump in my throat and pick up the pizzas Gran had ordered.
I’ve probably blown any chance I’d had with Rachel.
I don’t even know her. So why does it feel like I’ve always known her? Why does it feel like I’ve lost something sacred?
By the time I climb inside my old Wagoneer, I’m shaking. Somehow, I have to figure out how to deal with this by the time I get home. Gran has been through enough without having to worry about me.
When Finn and I take the bus back to the stop closest to the school where his vintage Camaro is parked, I realize I have no ride home. Usually, I’d catch a ride with Darien or Tuck, since we all live in the same neighborhood, but since everything has been weird because of the breakup, I’d planned on getting one from Claire.
But I missed that chance with my impulsive decision to hang out with Finn.
As I hesitate, he asks, “Can I give you a lift home?”
My attempt at caution seems to have failed. I could call Dad and he’d come to pick me up, but then he’d ask questions I don’t feel like answering. He still doesn’t know about the breakup, and I just haven’t found the energy to tell him. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance Claire will even answer if I text her. Sometimes I swear she’s glued to her phone, and other times hours pass with no response. Plus, it isn’t really fair to make her come all the way back here to get me after she did her best to convince me not to go in the first place.
“I’m not a serial killer.” Finn rests his arm against the open driver’s door. “Pinky swear.”
“Well, since you pinky swore,” I tease. But my worry fades. “Okay.” I walk around to the passenger side and get in. From the moment I saw the car, I desperately wanted to get inside, and I hold back a giddy laugh as I do. The black interior leather is in perfect condition, a perfect contrast to the deep orange exterior paint. A car like this couldn’t come cheap. Does he have a job? Go to school? I realize I know so little about him.
We pull up to the stop sign at the school’s parking lot exit. “Which way?”
I point to the right.
As we drive, silence fills the space around us.
“Not a fan of music?” I ask, noticing the radio is completely turned off.
Finn leans back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his leg. “No, not really.”
“Are you even human?” As I chuckle, I notice he doesn’t laugh. “Kidding. It’s surprising, though. I would have guessed you were the lead singer of a band or something.” Which, I did guess, actually. Apparently, I was wrong. But he has the quality about him—cool, confident, but doesn’t seem to notice.
He glances at me from his peripheral. “The singer, huh? I’d like to think I’d be a drummer.”
“Nah, you’re too pretty to be a drummer.” My face tingles as I refrain from smiling.
“Aww shucks.” He snaps his thumb. “Guess I’ll have to come up with a new life goal.” He glances at me. “I think you’d be the guitarist. Super talented and the glue that holds the band together, but not the one who wants the spotlight.”
I’ve never really thought about it. I like to sing in the shower and sing even louder in the car, and I’ve always wanted to do karaoke, but I play no instruments. “Minus the fact I can’t play a single chord on the guitar, I like that assessment.”
“So, since I’m not a stalker, I have no clue where you live …” Finn says.
“Oh, r
ight.” I give him directions to my house, which is only a few blocks away.
“It’s that one.” I point to the light gray, two-story on the right.
It’s one of the smaller houses on the block, but with just Dad’s salary, I’m thankful we’ve been able to keep it. From the looks of Finn’s car, I’m guessing wherever he lives is a little more glamorous.
He pulls in front of the house and parks. “Should I walk you to the door? Just to keep any serial killers from snatching you?”
I unbuckle and turn my body toward him. “I think I can handle it from here. Thanks for the fun day.”
“It was my pleasure.” His body is also shifted toward mine.
He leans forward.
My gaze finds his hazel eyes, that are even more alluring in daylight. A rust-colored circle surrounds his pupil that lead to a deep green color. He’s nearly perfect.
His grin disappears as our stares lock. As he tilts his head to the right, his lips ever-so-slightly pucker. Everything in me wants to lean into him and press my mouth to his, but Darien’s face flashes in my mind and I pull back.
“Dad’s probably wondering where I am.” I fumble for my backpack at my feet. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime,” he says as I open the door and practically fall out.
Calm down, Ava. Seriously.
I don’t look back as grab the mail from the mailbox. I pass underneath the archway covered in ivy that hovers over the sidewalk before I reach the porch stairs and unlock the door.
As much fun as I had this afternoon, I can’t ease the knot in my stomach. It hasn’t even been a week since Darien broke up with me, and he might be ready to drool over someone else already, but that isn’t me. Despite the tightness in my chest I feel at even the thought of him, I can’t pretend I don’t still love him. Maybe it wasn’t as real for him as it was for me, but I thought we were end-game.
I hadn’t told him, but I’ve been researching schools near Washington and Stanford to apply to. God knows, my grades aren’t good enough to get me into either of his dream schools, but I had planned on going to a college close to wherever he chose.
But now I don’t know what I’m doing.