Death, and the Girl He Loves

by Darynda Jones

  “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I have to go back. I have to put on my big-girl panties and face this.”

  His gaze slid past me and he sat slightly devastated for several minutes.

  Kenya stood and started punching buttons on her phone. “I’m calling my parents again. I’m coming with you.”

  I jumped up. “No, Kenya, stay here with them. With your family. Your aunt and uncle.”

  She glared at me. “Why? So I can die with them? So I can spend my last moments on earth huddling in fear and crying with them?”

  I pressed my mouth together in sadness. That was exactly how she was going to die. She saw it on my face and lowered her phone. Her eyes watered. After a moment, she lifted her phone to her ear. “Mom, I need three tickets to New Mexico. We need to leave tonight.”

  “Kenya,” I said, my voice breaking, “no. You should be with them.”

  “Why? In case you fail?”

  I nodded.

  “Hold on, Mom.” She took a menacing step toward me. “In case you don’t know the prophecy forward and backwards like I do, you don’t.” She poked my chest. Kind of hard. “You don’t fail, McAlister. You save us. You save us all, and I want to be there when you do it. I want to see it for myself.”

  Her faith crushed me. She had no idea just how much I was not capable of.

  “Okay, Mom, yes, three plane tickets to Albuquerque.” She leveled a decided expression on me. “I’m going with her. I’m fighting with her.” She gave her mother our information so she could purchase the tickets, then hung up the phone. “My parents will pick us up and drive us to the airport in two hours. They want to meet you.” She knelt beside me. “You know, a lot of people think we belong to a cult, like we’re a bunch of crazy end-timers, but we don’t. We’re not. We just believe in the power of good over evil.”

  “You should be with them, Kenya.”

  “McAlister, if I’m going to die anyway, if we’re all going to die, I’ll be with them soon enough. But that’s just not going to happen. Sorry, Charlie.” She winked at me, the gesture causing a fat tear to push past her lashes. She wiped at it, took a deep breath, and said, “Now, let’s go pack.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already done so.

  EXCESS BAGGAGE

  We stood in the student parking lot waiting for Kenya’s parents. The low moon had a delicious fog curling around it and I suddenly realized I was going to miss Maine. But even more, I was going to miss Crystal. She stood beside me, wrenching her hands, wondering exactly what was going on. I was fairly certain she figured out the undercover story was a lie. When Glitch started talking about the reporters that had descended upon Riley’s Switch like a pack of vultures again and how this one woman got arrested for going undercover in the high school, pretending to be a student just to get the scoop, I decided to tune him out.

  Crystal and I hugged good-bye, her round face and freckled nose buried in my jacket, and she said something about tickets and pliers. I had no idea what she said, but I nodded in agreement anyway.

  All together, the flights home took over twelve hours including the layovers in New York and Dallas, but that was a lot better than the three days it took me to get to Maine. My grandparents were waiting for us when we landed at nine o’clock in the morning, unkempt and sodden.

  We’d taken the escalators down to baggage claim and waited for the conveyor belt to start its rounds when I heard a feminine voice call out to me.

  “Lorelei?”

  I turned and saw my grandmother running toward me.

  “Grandma!” I cried, and took off at a dead run into her arms. She wrapped me tight in her embrace, but I soon felt another crush as Granddad joined us.

  My grandparents took over when my parents disappeared. They took on the burden that was me, changed their lives to accommodate raising another child, one they hadn’t expected to have to raise. My grandfather, who was my mother’s father, even took over for my father in the Order. He became the pastor of the church and taught the members what he knew, even though it wasn’t nearly as much as my father. It was his line through which Arabeth’s DNA weaved. All male descendants, for over five hundred years, until me. But when he disappeared, my grandparents took up the cause and kept me safe. They studied the prophecies and taught as best they could. I didn’t know where I’d be without them.

  We hugged a long time. I didn’t know how long, but I was home. Their arms were home. I never thought I could miss anyone so much in my life.

  When they finally eased their hold, Granddad framed my face with his weathered hands. He looked exhausted. Disheveled. And I quickly realized Grandma looked much the same.

  “We sure missed you, Pix,” he said, his gray eyes bright above the shadows under them and wet with emotion.

  “I missed you, too.”

  I looked past Granddad to Brooklyn and got excited all over again. Her thick black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, and her dark irises sparkled with joy. “Brooke!”

  She ran forward. “I missed you, too!”

  We hugged a solid minute before breaking the hold. Despite her ecstatic exterior, there was a sadness in the depths of her deep brown eyes. A weariness that hadn’t been there before. But I knew Brooke. She wouldn’t let me talk about it here in front of the others.

  “I forgot how short you are,” I said, teasing her since we were both the same height, five-foot-nada.

  “And I forgot how flat you are.”

  I tried to look aghast since that was always my tender subject. While Brooke had blossomed into womanhood recently with the cup size to prove it, I had yet to acquire real girl parts. It was sad. “So, how mad at me are you?” I asked her instead.

  “Oh, you have no idea.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You’ll be paying for this for a very long time.”

  I smiled, a little in love with the feel of her so close. “I never doubted it for a minute.”

  She wrapped an arm in mine. “You will be my slave girl and I shall call you—” She looked up in thought. “—Slave Girl.”

  “That’s creative.”

  “And you shall be made to scrub my floors and give me mani-pedis on a weekly basis.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Is that negotiable?”

  “Slaves cannot negotiate. They can only slave. But before we begin, there are two boys you might want to say hi to.”

  She gestured to her side, and sure enough, there were two boys there. Not that I hadn’t already noticed all the heads turning their way, but still. My gaze landed on Cameron first. He’d cut his signature blond, shoulder-length hair. It was now short and a little spiky as he leaned against a case displaying historical New Mexican artifacts. He looked fantastic. But he’d stuffed his hands into his pockets and was refusing to look at me.

  “He’s been a tad angry with us,” Grandma said. They’d sent me off in the middle of the night without my created protector. It was no wonder said created protector was a bit miffed.

  “So I heard.” I walked over to him, inching closer warily like one would with a wild animal. “Do you know how long you’re going to be mad at me? Because we have to save the world pretty soon.”

  Still refusing to even spare me a glance with those crystal blue eyes of his, he said, “I’ll let you know when I know.”

  “Fair enough. Until then, can I have a hug? For old times’ sake?”

  He kicked at the heel of his other foot. “You didn’t ask for one before you left. Figure I don’t owe you one now.”

  Before I could argue that point, he turned and walked out of the building.

  I looked over my shoulder at Glitch. “You weren’t kidding.”

  He’d grabbed my bags along with his. “He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so.” I said it to Glitch, but my gaze had found its way to the other boy who’d joined us. He was as tall as Cameron, only dark. Stunningly sensual like a Brazilian supermodel. But he looked exhausted as well. His hair needed a trim, and h
is jaw—sculpted and strong—needed a shave.

  He stood in his requisite white T-shirt and jeans with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin lifting one corner of his incredible mouth. His coffee-colored eyes shimmered as he looked at me. “He’ll come around if he knows what’s good for him,” he said.

  “Yeah?” I asked, stepping toward him. I didn’t want to get too gooey in front of my grandparents, but this was Jared Kovach. The love of my life. And the Angel of Death, but still.

  “You going to offer me one of those?” he asked.

  “What? A hug?”

  He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers over my hand. His touch was like electricity. It sent a jolt of pleasure rocketing through me, weakened my knees, accelerated my heart. Without any further ado, I jumped into his arms. He caught me like I knew he would—because he was super strong and could do things like that—and held me tight.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Lorelei, you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

  “But I just left and I’ve made things worse.”

  Still holding me a foot off the ground, he leaned back and questioned me with a gaze. Granddad had his hand on Jared’s back in a gesture of affirmation, while Grandma smiled over Jared’s shoulder at me.

  “Something happened,” I said, hating to break the news so soon after our long-awaited greeting, but they needed to know. “Something changed.”

  Granddad nodded. “What do you say we get to the car and talk there?”

  “Okay. Oh, I almost forgot!” Jared let me slide down his body to the ground and I savored the feel of him before turning to our newest team member. “This is Kenya.”

  She stepped forward, her usual brusque confidence all but gone. She nodded a greeting.

  “We know who you are, honey,” Grandma said. “Your mother called, told us you’d be joining us. We’re thrilled to have such an adventurer on our side.”

  As they shook hands, I asked, “Adventurer? What do you mean, adventurer?”

  Granddad chuckled and shook her hand as well. “She didn’t tell you?” he asked.

  “No.” I glared at her accusingly. We’d just spent twelve hours on airplanes and in airports. She could have mentioned something about being an adventurer. Not that I had any idea what that meant exactly.

  “I’m so honored to meet you,” she said to him. But when Jared held out his hand for his turn, her expression changed from reverence to doubt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was afraid of him. To her credit, she held her ground and took his hand into hers. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Your Grace,” she said, clearly knowing who, and what, Jared was.

  Because Jared was an archangel, a prince of heaven, many of our members insisted on addressing him as “Your Grace.” It wasn’t something he encouraged, but nobody listened when he discouraged it, so he just went along with the majority.

  “Kenya. Nice to meet you.”

  She pulled away as quickly as she could without being blatantly rude and cleared her throat.

  “Don’t worry,” Jared said, leaning in to her. “If I were here for you, I wouldn’t shake your hand first.”

  Sadly, we all burst out laughing, the tension was so taut, and I was worried poor Kenya would faint dead away. She did turn a lovely shade of green when he mentioned his job. So that was nice.

  My grandparents had brought the church van, so we all fit quite nicely. We sat in the airport parking lot. Jared sat beside me in the middle seat. He held my hand, seeming to know I’d need the support as I explained what had happened.

  “I was bombarded with visions yesterday. Everything changed. One minute I’m having visions about a fender bender here or a broken nail there, and the next—” I swallowed hard and Jared squeezed. “—the next, I’m seeing the end of the world.”

  Granddad lowered his head in thought as Grandma shot him a worried look.

  “It’s going to be like a storm. Like when Mom and Dad disappeared,” I said to them. “Low thunder clouds. A deafening wind. Rain. And darkness. A darkness that seems endless, like a fog or smoke that has the will to go where it wants. To do what it wants.”

  “Demons?” Glitch asked.

  “I think some are demons and some are spirits like we saw before. They will take over the earth. They’ll kill everyone. Everywhere. My leaving did nothing. It didn’t help at all.”

  “Pix, your leaving accomplished what we wanted it to. It kept you safe until it was time for you to come home.”

  “You knew? You knew I would have to come home?”

  “Of course they did,” Kenya said. “You can’t outrun destiny.”

  “She has a point,” Brooke tossed in. She was so helpful.

  “I thought my leaving might change things. Might make things better.”

  “It did,” Grandma said. “It kept you safe. Out of harm’s way.”

  “But not for you,” I said to her. “Glitch told me what you’ve been going through. I’m so sorry.”

  Grandma reached over and took my free hand. “Don’t you dare apologize. We knew exactly what we were getting into. We knew some would be very angry.” When she leveled an accusing stare on Cameron, he simply turned and did his signature distant stare out the window.

  It would have been funny if not for the fact that it was all so serious. So blindingly real.

  “You could have been hurt,” I said to them.

  “Pixie Stick,” Granddad said, his voice stern, “stop worrying about us this minute. We did what was best at the time. If some don’t agree, it’s because they don’t love you like we do.”

  “I love her,” Cameron shot out, completely offended. “You sent her off without me. Me! Her protector. I should have been with her.”

  “That’s why we had Kenya,” Grandma said.

  The fact that my grandparents knew about Kenya shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.

  Cameron looked at her anew, his astonishment palpable. “Her? This walking bleach factory? She’s human.”

  Well, that answered that. I was beginning to wonder.

  “And,” Kenya said, raising her chin a notch, “I’m a third-degree black belt in tae kwon do, an expert markswoman, and I’m certified to carry a concealed weapon in seven states, including this one. My parents have been training me since I was a toddler. So bite my ass.”

  Brooke and I gasped at her use of the word “ass” in front of my grandparents, his being a minister and all, but they hid grins.

  Cameron leaned over to her. “You’re still just a human.”

  “And I saved your charge’s ass from a psychotic douche.”

  Yep, we gasped again. If she did that any more, we’d probably hyperventilate.

  “Where were you?” she continued.

  When Cameron leaned even closer to her, Glitch leaned in between them. “We get it, Cameron,” he said. “You’re mad. Now, leave her alone. She did your job for you. The least you can do is say thank you.”

  Cameron bit down, worked his jaw, then gathered his resolve and grinned at him. But it was his evil grin, the one he saved for special occasions and for tormenting Glitch, his favorite pastime.

  “Can we get back to the ‘end of the world’ thing?” Brooke asked. “It seems kind of important.”

  She took Cameron’s face between her hands and forced him to focus on her until his anger melted. Without taking his eyes off Brooke, he said, “Fine, then. Thank you.”

  His expression of gratitude surprised everyone, but what surprised me was the look of forlornness on Kenya’s face when she glanced at Glitch. Glitch! She had a thing for him. For Glitch! I sat speechless and wondered if Glitch was still seeing Ashlee. There could be another war on the horizon if so. Messing with the Southern Belles was never a good idea, third-degree black belt or not.

  “Maybe you could take another look,” Kenya said, recovering. She cast a pointed stare at me. “Maybe things have changed. We took care of the threat at Bedford Fields, the catal
yst for your new visions. Maybe we set things right again.”

  The only reason I wasn’t seeing the deaths of everyone I was hugging was because I was using every ounce of mental energy I could spare to block my visions. I didn’t want to see the deaths of my grandparents. My best friends. Jared. Would Jared die in all this? Could he? I had no idea, but I sure didn’t want to find out.

  “Here,” Kenya said. She held out her hand to me, encouraging me to take another look, to see if her future was still dire, full of fear and death.

  I winced and scooted out of her reach. I’d already looked when she was sleeping at JFK. I just barely touched her, barely opened my mind to a vision, and I instantly felt fear rip at my chest so hard and so fast, I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned. I wasn’t about to repeat the experience.

  “We didn’t set things right. I’ve already looked. Nothing has changed.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “We need to find out who opens those gates. Who opened them in the first place when I was six. We need to know for sure if it’s the same person. Did you find anything on a Dyson?” I asked my grandparents.

  A group of nephilim had come for me before. They were watered-down versions of Cameron. Even with centuries of breeding with pure humans, siphoning the celestial DNA out of them, they were strong. Much stronger than normal humans. We defeated them, but the leader told me who sent them. A man named Dyson.

  “That’s who we need to be looking for. If we can just stop him from opening the gates again, won’t this all be over?”

  “In theory,” Granddad said. “Villanueva is looking into it, but there are a lot of Dysons out there.” Villanueva was our sheriff and a member of the Order. Having the county sheriff on our side came in really handy, especially when it came time to explain certain unexplainable events.

  I nodded. “At least we’re looking in the right direction.” Or I hoped we were. “I’ve tried to remember more about him. Anything. But my memory of that day just isn’t that great. I’ve even tried to draw him.”

  I pulled out my sketchpad and showed them what I remembered. I’d done a rough drawing of the man, his short blond hair whipping about his head, his light blue shirt stained with his own blood because the best image I had of him in my mind was when I—no, we, Malak-Tuke and I together—had stabbed him with a stick. Leaves flew about us as he scrambled back, his eyes wide in astonishment. He’d summoned Malak-Tuke for himself. He’d wanted to be possessed by him, to control him, but apparently Satan’s second-in-command had other ideas. When he’d entered me, when I’d swallowed him whole, breathed him in, the man went wild with anger.