Death, and the Girl He Loves

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Death, and the Girl He Loves Page 19

by Darynda Jones


  I let out a throaty laugh of astonishment. “Do you think we really stopped it?” I asked them.

  Dad took my shoulders into his large hands. “Lorelei Pixie Stick McAlister,” he said, shaking me a little.

  I loved it when he called me that.

  “You did it. We made it. We are here and we’re alive because of you.”

  “And my friends,” I added.

  “And your friends. It’s time to stop worrying.”

  Mom nodded and squeezed me against her. “And no more bad dreams.”

  “Bad dreams? Of the war?”

  She nodded.

  “So even though the war had supposedly been thwarted, I still had the dreams?”

  “We think that, perhaps, you were reliving a different life somehow,” she said. “Your other life.”

  Grandma sniffed into a handkerchief and added, “You’re very powerful, Lorelei. Your abilities far exceeded even our expectations. You’ve been seeing that life since you were a kid.”

  “We didn’t understand it at first,” Dad said. “And nothing we did seemed to help, so we just waited.”

  “For this day,” Granddad said.

  Mac tugged on a lock of hair. “For this marvelous, glorious day.” He started to rise, then stopped and added, “And for the food. The food is always a plus.”

  He slipped my hands into his to help me up.

  “I’m sorry about Grandma Olivia,” I said, truly and deeply sad about the death of his wife. “If only I’d known that, too. I really wanted to get to know her better.”

  “Me, too, Pix, but she was so proud of you. Never forget that.”

  THE MAGIC DISSOLVING-BONES TRICK

  Cameron had started a bonfire behind the church. When we pulled up, there were several students out there whose parents were part of the Order. Some I recognized. Some I didn’t. I walked out to join them as my parents went inside to lay out more food for the feast. Overall, the mood was terribly somber for such a festive event.

  “Hey, Lorelei,” Brooklyn said to me as I strolled up, not really certain I should join them. She was sitting by a brooding Cameron. It would seem the Cameron I knew and loved like one loved a thug with the ability to snap people’s necks in the blink of an eye was back. I couldn’t help but notice the odd glances people were casting my way as they walked past carrying in food. They were doing the same to Cameron.

  “Hey, Brooke,” I said, and she looked at me in surprise. No idea why. She’d said hi to me first.

  I noticed Glitch had come, probably because his father was a member of the Order and had dragged him here. He walked away and disappeared into the shadows of the building when I joined them. The thought of Glitch and me being at odds was the most foreign thing about this entire day. Having my parents back after they’d been missing for ten years? Awesome. Knowing I’d gone through a picture and told my paternal grandfather how to save the world? Worked for me. But Glitch and me at odds? Disliking each other? Not hanging out? Not ordering pizza and watching ’80s movies all weekend? No way. I just couldn’t see it. It felt wrong on a thousand levels.

  I was beginning to remember this life, though. Snippets of time revealed themselves to me slowly. I tried to remember when I’d pushed him away. What I’d done. But it wouldn’t surface. It was there. I’d get it eventually, but for now, I would just have to wing it. To make amends based on secondhand knowledge.

  “No one ever calls me that,” Brooke said, and I realized she was talking about my calling her Brooke.

  I closed my eyes in frustration. Another misstep. “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she said, rushing to reassure me. “It’s okay. I love it. It was just … I don’t know, a surprise.”

  She frowned into the fire then, as though her thoughts had gotten the best of her. Then she explained. “It’s like I remember you calling me Brooke even though we’ve never been friends.”

  I took a mental step back. Was she starting to remember our other life? Our other reality?

  I jumped to sit on her other side, hoping she’d elaborate.

  But Cameron spoke then, seeming just as confused, just as lost. “I remember stuff, too. Stuff that never happened, only I remember it like it did.”

  “Like a double-exposed picture,” I said, encouraging him.

  He fixed his gaze on me. “You know what I am.” He said it accusingly.

  Brooke frowned at him. “What you are?”

  But Cameron’s gaze never left mine.

  Before I could answer, before I could explain, a woman walked up to us. She had soft blond hair and kind eyes, and I knew her. I knew her from somewhere.

  “Food’s ready,” she said to all of us; then she ruffled Cameron’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind, which surprised me even more.

  After she walked away, it hit me. “Holy cow, Cameron, that was your mother.”

  He nodded. “Why does that surprise you?”

  His mother had died when he was three. It was a constant source of pain for him. He’d been there. He’d watched her fall to her death. She’d sacrificed her life for him, and Jared was the one who came for her. Being what he was, part angel and part human, Cameron saw him when others would not have. He’d never forgotten Jared, which was the root cause of their initial strife. And probably a lot of it afterwards as well.

  “It doesn’t. I just didn’t recognize her. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.”

  He bit down, worked his jaw. “You’re lying.”

  “Cameron,” Brooke said. “That’s not nice.”

  “Maybe not nice,” he said, shooting daggers at me with his gaze. “But true. Because my mother is not supposed to be here.”

  Brooke’s brows slid together. “You’re right,” she said. “I remember that, too. She died when you were a baby.”

  Cameron, in a rare show of emotion, scraped a hand over his face, then held it there. He squeezed Brooke’s hand with the other as he tried to regain control of himself. I could sense the pain rushing through him as he remembered his mother’s death.

  “But that was a different time,” I said, putting my arm across Brooke and rubbing their hands reassuringly. “A time that has been altered. It never happened. I guess. I’m not really sure how it works.”

  His breath hitched in his chest, and emotion, strong and potent, seeped out of him. He was crying. Sobbing behind his hand. My shock could not have been more evident if I’d screamed it from the rooftops.

  Brooklyn threw her arms around him, tears stinging her eyes, too.

  “How is this possible?” she asked, and I wondered how many more would remember two realities. Only those most affected? That would definitely include us. And most of the people in Riley’s Switch.

  “How do I know,” Brooke continued, “that you’re an angel?”

  Cameron’s gaze snapped to hers, his eyes red, his lashes glittering and spiked with wetness.

  She nodded. “You are. I remember. And so do they.” She pointed to the newest members to arrive. They also walked past us with curiosity burning in their gazes.

  Cameron didn’t say anything. Obviously, not everyone in the Order had known about him before this. But they’d learned what he was in the other reality. They’d had to.

  Having been watching us, Glitch stepped out of the shadows, his stance guarded, his shoulders at an angle as though ready to run.

  “We were best friends,” he said to me accusingly. “We’d been best friends since we could walk, and you just tossed me aside. But before, in the place of our memories, we were still best friends. We did everything together.”

  He was hurt and not willing to forget what I’d done. Unfortunately, I still didn’t remember myself. But it was coming to me. Why I’d pushed my best friend away. Why I withdrew into a shell, a wizard’s curtain of indifference and arrogance. And I remember yelling at him in first grade. We were on the playground and he’d accidently spilled his drink on my shirt. I railed at him. It was the excuse I’d been waiting for.
I railed at him and pushed him away from me. When he tried to apologize, I did the unthinkable. I slapped him, and I did it in front of the whole school. Everyone laughed, but my heart was breaking. I just wanted him away from me. I didn’t want to love him. If I’d failed, if the world was going to end, I didn’t even want to know his name.

  I was beginning to remember my dreams. Why, even as a child, I knew what was going to happen—the opening of the gates, the war, the end of the world—in the first place. I had been dreaming my whole life of the life I’d altered. The life I’d changed. I knew in my heart it was real. Everything I’d been dreaming was real.

  I stood and faced him. If anyone deserved an answer, he did.

  “I love you so much,” I said, shame and sympathy burning my face. “I was so afraid. I remember now. I was afraid that whatever I’d done, or tried to do, had failed.” I stepped to him and placed my hand on his beautiful face. He glared at me in distaste, but allowed me to stay close. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”

  “We were in diapers.”

  “I remember. And I loved you even then.”

  “You’re really good at hiding it.”

  “It would seem so,” I said, nodding, ashamed.

  He shook off my hand and stuffed his own into his pockets. “I can remember doing things with you. Things that never happened, and yet I can remember doing them. It’s like a dream swirling in my head.”

  “Me, too,” Brooke said. “I remember so much. Little snippets of life keep revealing themselves like memories I’d forgotten. Like a past life that I could only recall under hypnosis.”

  Cameron wiped at his face and stared into the fire. He looked like he used to. Restless. Angry. Guarded. “My mother died,” he said, his voice echoing with resentment. “I remember her dying. I remember him—” He glared at the flames. “—I remember the reaper coming for her.” He shook his head, unable to completely accept what we were saying. “Azrael. How is that even possible?”

  All of us at once realized someone else was close by. We looked over at Cameron’s mother. She’d brought him a plate of food. It hung limp in her hands, its contents on the verge of spilling over the side. And like us, she was staring off into space as though being bombarded with memories of things that had never happened.

  In fact, everyone at the party seemed to be remembering a different reality than what they’d enjoyed the last few years. I wondered how many in the world would remember a different past. Was it only us? Did we somehow rate the memories of a life we supposedly never lived? Or would everyone remember?

  Most people spoke softly to one another, reminiscing about things that never quite happened. They looked at me in awe. In utter amazement. I was the prophet. That much they knew. But now they knew something had changed, and they believed I’d caused it. But I hadn’t. We had. All of us.

  Brooke stood and took my hand into hers. “I remember something else, too. I remember I loved you with all my heart and soul.”

  I lowered my head, embarrassed by the sudden onset of tears. They quaked on my lower lashes, big and fat, threatening to spill over.

  “I remember you were like the sun to me. You were like air. I’ve never loved a friend more than you. And I’m pretty sure I never will again.”

  She pulled me into a hug that wrenched a sob from my throat. I needed that hug so bad. I wanted her in my life. In this life as well as any others that might crop up here or there. Admittedly, I didn’t want to live any more lives. Two was enough. But anything without Brooke in it was not a life for me.

  Cameron stood and went to his mother, led her back inside the dining hall. He deposited her, consoled her with a kiss on the cheek, then came back out, and I quickly realized why. Someone was standing behind me. Close behind me. I felt a finger run down my arm and across my palm. I didn’t turn. I knew exactly who it was. The only person who made the bones in my legs dissolve.

  I leaned back into him, and he stepped closer. Molded his body to mine. I melted against him, my hips tucked into the bend at his as he wrapped an arm around my waist and locked me to him. He bent and nuzzled an ear while whispering in it. It caused a rush of excitement over my skin.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d remember at first,” he said, his voice deep and soft and smooth. “I wanted to give you some time.”

  “I didn’t remember any of this life at first. Only the other one. The one we changed.”

  He turned me around to face him, and I wasn’t about to let him go. I locked my arms around him and looked up, way up, into his darkly shimmering eyes.

  “I’m surprised,” he said, seeming, well, surprised. “I thought you’d forget that life for a while. I didn’t know if you’d ever remember it, remember us, so I decided to start school all over again.” He grinned, and it shot through me like an arrow. “I had every intention of wooing you all over again.”

  I laughed, so relieved and thrilled to have him in my arms again, I felt giddy for the first time that day. Usually, giddy was rather normal for me. “It wouldn’t have taken much,” I said.

  Jared looked up as Cameron stepped to us, his expression challenging, and I wanted to groan aloud. He had sensed Jared coming. He could do that. They both could do that. Sense each other from afar. It was apparently an angel thing.

  “I was willing to forgive what you are when you first showed up,” Cameron said. “But not now, Reaper.”

  Darn it. We were back to calling Jared Reaper.

  He started to step toward him, but his mother walked back out again. She walked right up to Jared and put her hand on his face as though she were dreaming. I knew the feeling. “I remember,” she said. “I prayed that you’d come for me, that you’d save Cameron, and you did.”

  “Mom, go back inside,” Cameron said.

  She ignored him and kept staring. Kept touching his face. Jared didn’t mind, but her son did not share that kind of patience. He pulled her away from him and stepped close.

  “Cameron,” I said, getting between them. “If you’ll remember what happened the last time you two fought, you’ll know that you’re not going to hurt him.”

  Jared spoke softly behind me, clearly amused. “No, it hurt. Just not for long.”

  I pressed my mouth and started over. “You’re not going to kill him.”

  “I don’t want to kill him,” Cameron said, squishing me as he pressed forward. “Where’s the fun in that?” He had morphed into the old Cameron. His transformation was complete. I wasn’t sure how I should feel about that.

  “Son!” Cameron’s dad came out.

  He was so different from Cameron. Where Cameron was tall and blond with ice blue eyes, Cameron’s dad was stocky, dark, with eyes so dark, they looked black. His mother was blond, though, but I was certain he got most of his attributes from his actual father, the archangel Jophiel. That was the one thing you could always count on in a nephilim. Extreme height. Cameron had supernatural strength and speed to go with it, all the better to do his job, I supposed.

  Mr. Lusk tugged at his son, then glanced at Jared and nodded. “Your Grace,” he said, his tone reverent.

  Cameron’s, not so much. “If the war was really stopped,” he said, “then why are you still here?”

  And that was quite possibly the biggest mystery in all of this. If we’d won, if we’d truly changed the past and stopped the war before it ever started, then why was he here? I hadn’t wanted to ask it, not even internally, I was so grateful for the fact that he was. That he’d stayed or come back. Whatever he’d done, he was still the most beautiful thing on two legs.

  Everyone came out to watch the showdown. They poured out of the dining hall, my parents and grandparents included. And the sheriff who might or might not remember Jared was on our side.

  “We won, right?” someone asked. It was Brooklyn’s mom, a beautiful African American woman, tiny with spiked hair and a button nose I’d always loved. Comparing her to her husband was much like comparing Mr. Lusk to Cameron. Her h
usband was tall and pale, thin and very handsome. “Lorelei did it.”

  He started to answer, but I interrupted. “No, I didn’t.” I gestured to everyone standing around me. “We did. All of us together, including a girl named Kenya from Maine. And of course, my granddad Mac.”

  Mac offered me a sheepish grin.

  “He did all the hard work.”

  “I could never have done it without you. What you kids did,” he began, but he had to pause and gather himself. After a moment, he said, “What you kids did was extraordinary. The memories of that time are coming back to us. To all of us.”

  “But, it won’t happen again, right?” she asked again. “It’s over. The prophecies have come to pass.”

  Jared nodded. “They have come to pass. My brethren are calling it the War that Never Was and Never Will Be. I think that’s a pretty good indication of things to come.”

  Relief washed over every face there. My grandparents looked at me with stars in their eyes, and I still couldn’t believe how I’d treated them in this reality. I had a lot to make up for and I looked forward to every minute of it.

  “Then why are you still here?” Cameron said, pushing the subject, his anger still not quite abated.

  “It’s a gift,” he said, staring down at me. Then he looked at everyone. “If you’ll have me, I have been given permission to live among you. Something about bravery in battle. I can live as one of you, be human. Kind of. I can’t grow old.” Then he cast his gaze toward the ground as though suddenly unsure. “So they fixed that, too,” he said softly. His next words were so soft, I barely heard them. “Be still.”

  I looked around and realized he’d stopped time. We were the only ones moving. Grandpa Mac stood with a soda halfway to his mouth. Betty Jo had a corn on the cob at hers, and Mr. Gibson, one of the church elders, had dropped his plate. It hung frozen in the air, his expression comedic.

  “If you so choose,” Jared said as though uncertain, drawing me back to him, “you will be immortal with me.”

  “Immortal?” I asked, stunned into an overwhelming state of confusion.

 

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