by Nissa Leder
She sees me walking toward them and pauses, saying something to Darien. Then, she walks in the other direction. Guilt crawls up my throat. It’s difficult to swallow it down.
Darien smiles when he sees me and hustles toward me, like he’s happy to see me. Which makes this even more difficult.
“Hey, Rachel,” he says.
“Hey,” I say back. “Listen, I need to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?”
He checks his watch and then shrugs, ushering me around the corner to a mostly empty hallway behind the lockers. He leans close to me, but I keep my distance.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “Is something wrong?”
He rubs his nose between his eyes and rolls his neck.
“Headache?” I ask.
“Story of my life,” he says.
“They’ll go away eventually,” I explain. “My brother got them, too, when he first changed. It’s your eyes changing. Regular human eyes can’t see the invisible world, so yours have to change in order to have the sight.”
“Lucky me.”
He’s still brooding. Great. Everyone was talking about his fight with Tuck in my first and second period classes, so I get the feeling he’s having a bad day.
But if anyone has the right to feel a little sorry for himself, it’s Darien Crain. I’ve been putting my emotions aside and making sacrifices for the Guardians for so long, it’s easy to forget Darien’s entire normal life was just stolen from him.
“Listen, I know you got a raw deal in all of this, and I’ve lived this alongside my family my whole life. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”
I bring my hand to his arm but pull back when my body reacts.
“Anyway, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need to talk,” I say.
“Right,” he says. “My counterpart.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Your counterpart. One-third of the Triad. What did your Gran tell you about us last night? I should’ve asked. I’m sure you only have about a million questions.”
“Well, based on what she said, you and I are ‘meant to be’.” He looks at me then. “Life partners, lovers, husband and wife. Mated for life. Like swans.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Did she really say it like that?”
“Not exactly,” he says, “but I got the general picture. Guess it explains why all of my feelings for Ava just vanished one day.”
Guilt quickens my pulse. I know it’s not my fault, but it’s not his either. And it’s definitely not Ava’s.
“Yeah, I showed up last week. From the bits and pieces I’ve heard, you dumped her on the day I moved here.” I clear my throat. “I’m really sorry about that. Ava seems like a really nice person. And, I mean, Wow. She’s gorgeous.”
Darien smiles, looks up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Ava’s great. She and Tuck are the best friends I’ve ever had. Now, I’ve broken her heart, and I can’t even tell her why. I mean, how am I supposed to explain that my future wife moved across the country to find me so we could fight demons together for the rest of our lives?”
I sigh. Clearly, he’s having a crap day. I don’t want to make it worse, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
“We will fight demons together for the rest of our lives,” I say, “but that’s where it ends. I am in this to protect people. I will like you. I will care for you. I will work with you, protect you, and defend you. But I won’t fall in love with you.”
He laughs, but it’s the coldest, most bitter sound I’ve ever heard. “And the kiss? That was just you not falling in love with me?”
“The kiss never should’ve happened,” I say. “Our bond will make us feel a lot of intense emotions for each other, but I’m sixteen years old. I don’t want to have my entire future pre-planned in some archaic arranged relationship.”
I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
“Right,” he says. “My God, if it didn’t suck so much, it would actually be comical. My life is ruined. My football career? Gone. My med school ambition? Meaningless. My girlfriend? Lost all feelings for her. My counterpart? Wants nothing to do with me.”
I look down at my boots, compare my fishnet stockings with his jeans and a school T-shirt ensemble. We’re just too different.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really sorry.”
He laughs that bitter, crazed laugh again.
“Hey, no sweat. Having a life-long attraction to someone who doesn’t want me is the cherry on top of my morning.”
Without looking at me, he pushes himself away from the wall and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “As much as I’d like to continue our pleasant little chat, I’ve got class. I’ll see you at the next demon attack.”
As he walks away, my stomach knots up and twists. Why am I such a jerk? Clearly, this wasn’t the day to confess my struggle against the patriarchy. It made perfect sense in my head, but when I said it out loud, my words just sounded cold and callous.
Why can’t I just be normal?
I mean, most girls would probably think the idea of a pre-destined relationship with the Adonis-like quarterback is wildly romantic. The stuff of bodice-popping romance novels.
And Darien is great. From the few days I’ve known him, he’s easy going, motivated, funny, and an all-around good guy. He’s good looking with a smoking hot body, and if I died a thousand deaths, the memory of that kiss would be enough to bring me back every time.
So what’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with me is that I’ve dated plenty of boys, but I’ve never had anything more than fun. I’ve never felt an attraction so deep and overwhelming that I forget where I am.
But Darien has.
Deep in my heart, I know the truth. Deep in my heart, I can’t shake the feeling that if not for the bond, Darien Crain wouldn’t look twice at me. Apart from the Summoning, he’d be with the blond-haired beauty who stole his heart in elementary school.
Deep in my heart, I want to know that what we feel for each other is real, more than just some celestial magic spell that, if broken, would lead him back into Ava’s arms.
And when it comes right down to it, I’m not convinced.
I slide down the wall and fold my arms over my knees, refusing to acknowledge just how deep my feelings run. Refusing to acknowledge that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
It’s not like me to ditch school, but I can’t handle anything else right now.
Not Tuck. Not Ava. Especially not Rachel. Not even football.
I’ve missed two practices in a row now. Not that it matters. The phone has been ringing off the hook, and I know it’s Coach McCabe. I wonder what lame excuse Gran is giving him.
Not that it matters.
I’d only made it to third period when I decided to leave. I went to the locker room, straight out the door to the parking lot and then home. I’ve been here ever since. When I’d stormed in the door, even Gran knew to stay out of my way.
Since then, I’ve been staring brainlessly at the TV, absently scrolling through the titles, but I can’t focus on anything. A light tap at my door catches my attention.
“Go away,” I say. I’m really not in the mood.
The door opens. Uriah Donnelly fills the frame, once again dressed head to toe in a black suit.
“Is this how Thomas Crain raised you? To hide in your room at the first sign of trouble and pout like a spoiled toddler? Should I expect a tantrum next?”
I know I’m brooding. Pops would tell me to “suck it up” and “shape up or ship out,” but considering Pops is the reason I’m in this giant mess, I’m not inclined to take his advice. I look away from Uriah, not really sure what he wants me to say, and stare at the ceiling.
“Get up,” Uriah says.
He picks up a pair of jeans from the floor and throws them at me.
“Get dressed. We’re going out.”
I throw my legs over the bed and look at the clock. It’s 9 p.m. “Where are
we going?”
“It’s time you learned just how important you are and just what you’re capable of. Unless you’d rather sit in here and cry while the evil of the world feasts on the unsuspecting humans of Seattle.”
Uriah doesn’t bother standing in line once we reach our destination—Pioneer Square at a nightclub called Trinity. Is this some kind of joke?
I hesitate.
I’m not old enough to get in here yet, and if I get caught, Coach’ll suspend me. It’s a three-game minimum. Uriah stops and turns on me.
“Hurry up,” he says. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid of a little trouble?”
I don’t respond, but I don’t move either.
“First rule: leave your fear at the door. You can’t be good at football without a healthy dose of arrogance. You’re going to need that confidence if you expect to cut it in the real world.”
He pushes me forward, slips some cash to the host, and we walk right in.
The lights are flashing, and bodies are bumping and swaying to the beat of the music. It smells like sweat and alcohol. He takes the stairs to the second level, and I follow him to the balcony rail. We can see the entire first floor.
“Do you smell them?” Uriah yells over the music.
I shake my head.
“You’re not concentrating. Close your eyes. Reach out with your senses.”
The music is pounding like a sledgehammer through my brain. My entire body is tense, on high alert. But when he nudges me, I do what he says. I close my eyes.
“Listen to your heartbeat. Block everything else out.”
I breathe in, listening to the swift thrumming of my heart until it slows to a steady rhythm. The noise fades to a haunting echo as I exhale. When I breathe in again, I smell it. It’s like sulfur mingled with decay, like some kind of dead animal. Beyond the noise, I hear them hissing. Whispering.
“Now, open your eyes,” Uriah says in my ear.
I take a look and stumble back. They’re everywhere. The same reptilian creatures I’ve been seeing. Some coil around dancing couples. Others slither up from black smoke and wind around the twenty-somethings that mingle at the bar. Others hover near the ceiling trailing dense fog from their serpent-like bodies. They watch from above, choosing their next victims.
“These are the lower demons,” Uriah shouts. “We call them Lessers. The smoky ones that stick to the shadows are the Daeva. They bring unrest and disruption. The ones clinging and scratching are the Pey. They are the sowers of chaos, the influencers, the possessors. They coil around their victims, whispering lies, making suggestions, weakening them until they are easily controlled or, in the worst cases, possessed.”
He points to one of the creatures wrapped around a couple dancing so close together, I’m not sure how they’re even moving. “Just watch for a minute.”
The demon hooks its claws into the back of their necks and then tightens its body around them, pushing them so close together, they stumble back, slamming into a group of dancers. Suddenly, the demon releases them and drifts above them, as people begin pushing and shoving, throwing punches. The smoky shadow creatures, the Daeva, dart back and forth, streaking through the crowd. One of the Pey inhales through lizard-like nostrils and laps at the air with its serpentine tongue.
“It’s feeding from the negative energy,” Uriah points out. But I kind of figured it out on my own.
Then, everything spirals.
There’s screaming, accompanied by the sounds of well-landed punches, flesh pounding flesh, as the crowd backs away from the fight. Bouncers rush in, breaking up the violence. Finally, I see two guys, their faces red, veins popping as they struggle against the huge men who hold them back. They’re yelling and screaming, and though I can’t hear exact words over the music, I get the general idea.
“Fighting, stealing, murder, rape, drug use, unsafe sex with a stranger in a bathroom stall—you name me any vice that could ruin your life, and the Lessers are spreading it like a virus and growing their own power,” Uriah says. “They’re influencers, stronger than any mind-altering substance, and the more they feed, the stronger they get.”
I can’t look away from the scene in front of me. Security guards come in to assist and drag the guys from the dance floor. They look like they want to kill each other.
“What do we do about it?” I ask.
Uriah smiles, adjusting the cufflinks at his sleeves. “I’m so glad you asked.”
He jerks his head, signaling me to follow. Uriah leads me down the stairs from the balcony, winding through the pleasure seekers that have now resumed their places on the dance floor. Uriah turns the corner toward the back of the room. A girl, probably not too much older than me, grabs her purse, looks around to see if anyone is watching, and slips out the back door. A few seconds later, we follow.
Outside, the girl stands against the building in the poorly lit parking lot, reapplying lipstick in a handheld mirror. She runs her fingers through her dark hair and looks around, like she’s waiting on someone. We watch from the shadows until I see it. It rises all around from a dense fog that billows up from the asphalt, coiling around her until it takes shape. One of the Pey.
Just then, a black car pulls up. A dark window rolls down, and the girl approaches. She slips some cash into a hand that extends out the window, which exchanges the money for a tiny bag. The car pulls away. The girl dips her finger in the bag, just in time for Uriah to step forward, dragging me with him.
The demon hisses, tightening its hold on her. She drops the baggy and stumbles back. Uriah motions me forward.
“See it for what it is,” he says to me. “A malevolent entity with no place among us. It’s time we take it back to where it belongs.”
I come up beside him and look at the creature. It hisses and snarls, baring its razor-sharp teeth. It must’ve been calling for back-up because dozens of them seep through the walls of the brick building, growling at us.
“You know where they belong,” Uriah tells me. “Feel the heat in your chest. Smell the burning in your senses. See the fire. Their blood calls out to you. It’s a part of you, but you can control it.”
I feel it then, rising up inside me. My blood races and heats as it flows through my veins. I feel like I’m on fire as the walls of the building fade, along with the parking lot, the parked cars, and the trash that litters the place. The entire scene is replaced by fire.
“You know where you are now,” Uriah whispers to me. “The place of weeping and gnashing of teeth. You don’t belong here, but they do.”
Panic rises within me like pure adrenaline. I remember the blisters on my palm from my last encounter with one of these bastards. My breaths become faster, and the fire begins to flicker between flame and brick.
“There is no room for fear,” Uriah says. “Don’t lose your concentration. You’re safe. He holds his arm to the flames, but they dance around him as if some protective barrier is keeping him safe.
When you’re on fire, nothing can touch you. Pops had been telling me all along.
Then, Uriah takes my hand, and the fire grows more and more intense. He raises his other arm toward the Lessers and then forces it down. The demons open their mouths and unleash guttural cries that send shivers up my spine.
“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”
When Uriah speaks the words, the heat departs from my body, and though I’m standing in some otherworldly hell, I’m not even sweating. Yet the fire shackles the demons as if they’re chained, and a river of liquid fire rushes over them with a sickening sizzle, and the smell of burned hair and flesh assaults my nostrils. Gradually, the river seeps back into the rocky earth, taking the Lessers with it.
Uriah lets go of my hand. The fire is gone, and once again, we’re standing in the dark parking lot behind the club. The girl who bought the drugs is cu
rled against the wall, watching us in horror. Uriah leans down and plucks the bag of cocaine from the damp asphalt.
“This is your second chance,” he whispers. “Don’t waste it.”
She stares up at him, torn between fear and awe, before climbing to her feet and running toward her car, her heels clicking against the pavement.
“And that’s how you drag the Lessers back to hell,” Uriah says. “Pretty badass, huh?”
I can’t speak, so I just nod. Badass. That’s one word for it.
“Before long, they’ll sense you as soon as you walk into a room, and they’ll flee in fear. That’s when it gets really fun. There’s nothing like the hunt.”
He has a faraway look on his face, as if remembering some epic thrill, but then, he collects himself and slaps me on the back.
“At any rate, I think that’s pretty good for your first lesson. We’d better get home before your Gran gets too worried.”
I follow him around the building to the valet, and we wait for his car.
“That thing you said, about walking through the fire but not being burned,” I say. “What is that?”
“It’s the Hellwalker’s calling card,” he answers. “Isaiah 43. Don’t tell me Thomas and Lillian never took you to church?”
“Well, yeah,” I say, “but what just happened back there? That never happened in church.” Or maybe I wasn’t paying attention.
Uriah erupts into throaty laughter. “I like you, kid, but you’ve got a lot to learn.”
13
This morning goes more normal than yesterday’s.
Claire picks me up for school, no sign of the brown car anywhere.
My morning classes fly by, though focusing is still impossible.
Lunchtime finally arrives.
Maybe some food will help me feel less crazy.
The week isn’t even halfway over and I’ve had a feeling of being stalked, thought my best friend might be turning into the Hulk, and swore I saw some new girl, who seems a bit obsessed with my ex, glow.
None of which is normal. Not in the slightest.