Authors: Jarod Davis
Nine
When Timothy opened his eyes again, everything about the last night was clear until that kiss, that special kiss that saved his life. Above him was a pink ceiling. That seemed right, unrecognizable, and unimportant. She did it, he thought.
For a second, Timothy tried to move, to roll over, but his stiff muscles screamed back at him. Eyes scrunched shut, he relaxed again and it would have been easy to sleep. But he didn’t, because he had to remember.
Everything got sticky after the kiss. Timothy took her to the van. He couldn’t find the keys. Stumbling back inside, he remembered his wounds, the burns that were cracked and healing with every second. But they hurt, made it hard to move. And he was empty, drained of strength. Exhaustion, hunger, and thirst raged for his attention, caking everything in a thick dust of fatigue that made it hard to think.
He didn’t walk so much as stumble when he searched the demons’ crisped bodies for keys. On the third pile of scattered ash, Timothy found the keys, went back to the van and drove back. Then he carried her back. She was breathing and safe, so he didn’t see anything else. A thousand people could have been waiting for him and he wouldn’t have noticed.
“You’re awake,” she said, planting her chin on his stomach. “Healing too. Does it hurt?”
“A lot.”
“That’s what you get for being so wrong.”
“We got away.”
“But you thought I had to kill you. You know how wrong that makes you? That makes you the wrongest wronger who ever wronged.”
“Great.”
“And I’m going to hold that over you for a long, long time.”
“Good,” he said, clamping his arms around her. “How did you know?”
“A woman’s intuition.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It just felt like something I had to do.” Then Timothy didn’t care about questions when Jenny touched her lips to his, and that would have gone on for a long time, but someone knocked on the door.
“Ignore it,” Jenny told him.
“Okay.” He didn’t need to be convinced.
“Jenny, someone at the door!” her roommate shouted from their living room all of fifteen seconds later.
“What time is it?” Timothy asked. He looked around for a clock, felt the soft sheets, and realized he was in her bedroom. For all the times any guy could hope to get into a girl’s bed, he never thought it would happen like last night.
Grabbing the tiny neon lights by her bed, Jenny said, “Six.”
“On a Tuesday?”
“I guess.”
Someone tapped on Jenny’s bedroom door; a quieter voice asked, “Jenny, this guy said it’s important. Says his name’s Cordi-something.” Timothy sprang up at that. Cordinox, now the strongest demon in Sacramento.
“Who’s that?” Jenny asked.
“He’s like Despada.”
“A demon?”
“Yes. But he doesn’t want you.” Timothy prayed that was still true. Screw weakness. He would still fight if that’s what it took. But it would sting so much to get this far and be almost safe just to get killed by the demon who first trained him. Then again, that is exactly what Timothy might expect from Cordinox.
Jenny called through the door, “Tell him I’ll be out in a second.” The roommate said something about going back to bed. A second later they heard her bedroom door shut with the irritation of someone who woke up at six.
When Timothy and Jenny came out, Cordinox was lounging in one of the chairs, his hands on his knees. He rose when they came out, a hand held out to Jenny. Timothy stepped in front of her and said, “You know what happened.”
A slick grin crossed Cordinox’s face, “I do.”
“So why are you here?” Jenny said, stepping past Timothy.
“I wanted to see if my guesses were true.”
“Were they?” Timothy asked. Jenny wouldn’t let him stand in front of her. He had to settle on taking her hand. He’d pull her to the floor and cover them with a shield if this turned into a fight. Of course that almost made him laugh; Cordinox matched Despada in combat. Timothy, weakened and burned, would’ve been about as threatening as a toothpick.
“Some,” Cordinox replied. “Hecate felt the explosion. Devi and Isis scouted the place and found that suddenly my mortal enemies were suddenly charred outlines burned into a department store’s floor. Only an angel could do that.”
“Good guesses.”
“But I thought you’d be dead,” he said to Timothy. “I guessed that they managed to grab her, which meant you’d failed to protect her.”
“I went after her.”
“So you were there?” Now he sounded confused.
“We were,” Jenny told him.
“She woke up her soul, killed them all.”
“Now what?” Jenny asked, braced like she expected another fight.
“You’re afraid that I’ll try to do what Despada did?”
“The thought occurred to me,” Jenny told him honestly.
“You can’t have her,” Timothy said, way more confident than he should’ve been.
“Don’t worry, I have no interest in her soul, or yours for that matter, Timothy. She’s more useful out there, killing demons, a constant threat to everyone else. Now that Despada’s gone, this valley is mine. And that’s all thanks to the two of you. Besides, there’s no real reason not to have an angel for an ally. Sound fair?”
Cordinox had his hand out again. This time Jenny shook it. “Don’t try to hurt him or me, do you understand?” she asked. Cordinox didn’t react when she sent a flicker of her soul through his hand. Timothy saw the sizzle but didn’t say anything; Cordinox didn’t react either. That was almost scary, the way she controlled abilities she just learned about.
“I do.”
He turned for the door, his fingers around the knob when he stopped and asked, “Timothy Santos, be grateful. Few men get to enjoy what you have. She sacrificed something to be with you, tied your souls together. That’s why you survived. You’re bound now. I’ve never seen someone who’d do something like that.”
When Cordinox left, they looked at each other again.
“We did it.”
“We’re alive.”
“We’re together.”
“Best part.”
Jenny pulled him to her and kissed him, and they were moving, through doors and fell down together with nothing but the sensations of that moment, of being together. Fingers and souls intertwined, they kissed again.
The End
Angel Prayers
Jarod Davis
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. Sort of. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s "imagination", right? Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity. All characters should be assumed to be over the age of 18. The cover model is also over the age of 18.
Warning:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover. This text is copyrighted. Your purchase allows you to one legal copy of this work for your own personal use. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload for free or for a fee.
First Edition
©2015
Cover courtesy of Shutterstock.
Prologue:
Sometimes I think it’s easier for Christians. They have hope, faith, and someone to watch over them. Their world has an endgame that makes sense. God loves them. He’s always there when they cry out for help. God can support them, carry them, and protect them. It’s harder when you’re alone.
Trust me. No one knows what this kind of alone feels like. My family is dead. Everyone I loved is ash. It’s been years, and those pains have faded into long scars. Mostly Everyone else can look forward to birthdays, graduations, Christmas, dinner. They have a million moments that make life worth living. They have loved ones.
All I could hope for were those little acts of kindness and compassion. Someone says hi at the store. Someone says excuse me as I pass.
Or freshman year. Kayla went on a vacation with her family. They hit the beaches in Florida or Mexico. It doesn’t really matter. But when she came back, Kayla gave these little green stones to her friends and the people who sat around her. They weren’t expensive or important. They were just little souvenirs for the people she saw in class.
I didn’t expect one. She wasn’t my friend. We never hung out. And she couldn’t know about the way I looked at her sometimes, that scratch of interest in this girl who was nice to everyone. She was smart. She was kind. And she remembered me. No one remembered me, and no one was supposed to. That was the point. Yet Kala gave me one of those little stones anyway. It’s stupid, but I smiled a lot that day.
That stone still rides around in my wallet. Everywhere I go, it follows me. That was three years ago, and we’re still not friends. She did something nice for me, and I remember it because that’s as much as I get.
It’s okay. Solitude is fine. It’s what I deserve. Nothing else. I don’t want anything else. I don’t even want forgiveness because I don’t deserve it.
Redemption. That’s something else the Christians have. They can find forgiveness in their savior, Jesus Christ. They have a savior, while I just have a pit. I’ll live. Then I’ll die. Maybe I’ll find hell. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Or maybe it does. His family deserves justice.
That’s why I should’ve finished junior year without ever talking to Kayla. That’s why I should have left that door shut and let the world take care of it. Christians say there’s hope, that redemption is always possible, and she makes me think they might be right. That’s my temptation, the belief that I’m not broken. Kayla makes it worse.
I need to stop spending time with her.
Kayla makes me want to believe that I’m not bad, broken, or evil. When I think of her, I think it might be possible. I hope maybe it’s possible.
My notes:
Add internal prayers. She prays as thoughts.
Make her more of a reader and more nervous with people. Before Allie, she wasn’t popular.
Include more Biblical quotes
Mention her favorite restaurant, Chang’s Authentic Mexican, earlier
Chapter 1: First Prayers
“But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one.”
2 Thessalonians 3:3
“C’mon, it’s going to be a boy party. Don’t make me go alone,” Erin begged, her hands cupped together. “I need someone there who’s not going to talk about sports, girls, or video games.” Her voice rose a couple octaves like she wanted to laugh even as her lip quivered and she kept her eyes big and scared looking. Begging was definitely not Erin’s thing. “Please. Please. Please. Super awesome double mega pretty please.”
Kayla couldn’t say no. Another night at home would hurt, but Erin was right. Kayla needed a night out and this was the only one coming anytime soon. Her friends were gone, she reminded herself. Erin was the only person left, “Okay.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Erin bubbled before she’d hopped off to class.
Six hours Kayla pulled up in front of the house. This was the right address. The pulse of music beat out into the street. A couple guys sat on the porch, watching the neighbors and laughing between gulps of beers.
Kayla pulled out her phone and typed in a quick message for Erin to meet her outside. Neon light from the stereo and dashboard glowed against her skin and the white of her sweatshirt. Even when she was going out with Dean, Kayla never poured a ton of effort in her appearance. Her jeans weren’t much more impressive either. She didn’t look like she was about to hit a party. She didn’t look like someone the guys would want, but she was there for Erin.
Exhaling, Kayla wished she could see her other friends. She stared out the window and wondered where they were. Anger should have seethed in her chest, but she just felt sad because she’d have to go to this kind of party and pretend she belonged there.
Those thoughts hurt, so Kayla closed her eyes and spoke, her voice soft, even in the empty car. “Okay. I’m here. I’m trying. This isn’t for me. It’s for Erin. Okay, that’s not completely true.” She didn’t lie. That was the best part. No lying. No point in telling anything but the truth. “Maybe I want to get past Dean. So one night. I’ll do my best to be the good friend. Erin deserves that. Especially after the last week. I’ll smile. I’ll laugh. It’ll all be good. Okay? I’ll be strong. I’ll do my best.” That was a promise to herself and someone else, one that made her feel a little better.
Erin bounced out of the front door and stopped at the sidewalk. Always energetic, she gave an excited wave. Kayla let out one quick sigh and forced a smile as she got out. “You made it!” Erin said with a quick hop and grabbed Kayla’s arm.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“But you should’ve been here earlier. There was this big argument about whether or not Batman would ever have a chance against Superman. Seriously. Guys. There are just guys here and all they’re talking about are video games and comic books.”
The cold of night air disappeared the second they stepped inside. Blanketed in heat, techno beats reverberated through the walls from speakers in the living room. To the right was a kitchen. Kayla thought she heard the sounds of conversation from further down the hall. Everything was cliqued up. Groups of guys laughed or were circled around the flat screen, smashing buttons and shouting at each other with every point, combo, and explosion.
They headed back down the hall and Erin pulled her into one of the bedrooms. She shut the door and fell down onto the bed. “Thanks for showing. Isaac disappeared with some of his friends like five minutes after we got here.”
“Whose room is this?” That was as much interest as Kayla could manage.
“Don’t know.” There were space ship posters on the wall, Star Trek, Star Wars, or some game. A couple models lined the shelves. Little dragons and warriors dressed in armor and swords, they all looked expensive. “Some guy.” Erin stopped for a second. “You okay?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“C’mon. This is me.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Yup.”
“I’m serious,” Kayla said. “You’re a good friend, a really good friend.” Eyes down, she fiddled with the tips of her fingers.
“Still fighting with everyone else?”
Kayla puffed a breath, “It’s not much of fight. They’re just not talking to me.”
“Do you want to tell me about it? I promise I’ll take your side.”
“I’m good.”
Erin watched her like she didn’t believe her. At the same time, she must have known she couldn’t fix anything so she slid off the bed and asked, “Want to get something to drink? There’s pizza out there.”
Kayla smiled and hoped it looked real enough. Her friends were gone, and Kayla knew why. Knowing didn’t help. Her friends left when her family started to break apart. They shouldn’t have been connected. Her friends should have been to help her. Lots of things should have been different, but they weren’t, so she wanted to go back two or three years.
“Pizza time.” Erin hopped off the bed and headed back outside. Kayla followed and saw the different guys. Out in the living room, they kept smashing through their bad guys. Polygonal figures fought out across the screen, and Kayla wondered how many of them had girlfriends, and how many of those girlfriends would think about this. These guys were excited, laughing, jumping up and down. They looked like little boys.
The kitchen was empty, half eaten circles of pizza scattered on the table.
“Guys are weird,” Erin said as she grabbed a slice. Kayla heard laughter from the living room followed by an explosion. Someone shouted something about “the best kill ever!”
“Oh yeah.”
“He wanted me here.”
“Isaac?”
“Yup. Dragged me. Then he disappeared with all of his friends.”
“Don’t ask me about boys. Boys are mean. They suck, they just suck.” Kayla crossed her arms over her chest. That was not not the positive attitude she wanted, but it was just Erin and she knew what happened. She knew as much as Kayla anyway.
“They can,” Erin said. “But they can be pretty good too.”
Something mean popped into Kayla’s head, but she didn’t say it. Erin was right. They could be. That was probably the hard part. She remembered Dean the good guy, Dean the good boyfriend, Dean the guy who said he loved her. She believed him too. Mad at him or mad at herself, it didn’t matter. She should have let it go.
“Yeah,” Kayla said. “They can be.” That last birthday was pretty great. Dean found an old showing of her favorite movie, rented out the whole theatre, and gave her a private screening. It took time, planning, effort. It convinced her. He cared about her. He’d never ditch her, until he did. Without an explanation. Not even a text. Kayla tried to push it aside and focus on this moment. But it felt like there were claws or thorns stuck in her skin, these feelings that wouldn’t go away.
“Like him?” Pizza still in hand, Erin skulked at the archway into the living room and pointed to one of the boys. Off to the side, he pressed one foot against the wall. He had light hair, broad shoulders, and an unbuttoned shirt. When Erin waved her over, Kayla finished pouring a cup of Mountain Dew and peeked out as well. It felt like watching guys in their natural habitat.
“He’s okay.”
“He was looking at you when we walked in here, and now he’s sneaking peeks when he thinks his friends aren’t looking. I know him if you’re interested.” Erin made it sound like she wanted to sell off some government secrets. If so, she would’ve been a terrible spy because she had to say, “His name’s Tristan, he’s a senior at San Juan, and he plays for their soccer team.”
“I doubt he’s looking.”
“He’s interested. Definitely checking you out.” Erin made it sound like divine truth.
“I doubt it.”
“You should go talk to him. C’mon. Get out there. Go show him how awesome you are.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t think so.”
“They’re not all jerks,” Erin said.
“No. But I’ve met enough of them that I don’t really feel like trying again.” When Kayla saw the hurt kitty cat look on Erin’s face, she had to add, “It’s fine. Really. I’m fine. I don’t need another guy in my life right now.” She thought of home and thought,
Especially now.
Every time she got home, she had to wonder what she’d find. Tense silence, shouts, tears, broken dishes, or screams.
“It makes life fun.”
“Do you know anyone here?” Kayla asked. Even though she didn’t recognize any of the faces, they still felt similar. The same pants, t-shirts, jeans, hoodies, and haircuts made a lot of the guys look the same.
“Isaac. Some of his friends.”
As Erin bit through some more pizza, Kayla spotted someone else. He didn’t grin like Tristain. He didn’t look like he could rule the world with the power of his smile or the flip of his hair. He watched the other guys play, but he didn’t say anything. Kayla knew him from freshman year. She knew that in the first second though she couldn’t remember his name. It took her another sip to catch his name, Seth. The two people with him surprised her more than seeing him there. They looked older, like college students.
One guy, one girl, they both had glasses and had on worn clothes like they didn’t really care. Kayla glanced down, her cheeks warm, when he looked over at her like he could feel her gaze. A second later, he motioned his friends and disappeared to another room.
“Do you know Seth?” Kayla asked.
“Daniels?”
“Yeah.”
“I see him around sometimes.”
“I thought I just saw him.”
“Here?” Erin asked, “Huh. I guess it makes sense. Right age. Probably a guy into his video games and girls with guns. Just didn’t think he’d want to come out of his cave.” That was mean, but Kayla had to admit it sounded kind of right. She used to talk to him freshman year, but since then they kind of wandered apart. She always saw him with his two friends, but they didn’t talk to anyone else. He always looked mean, hard or sad. Something hurt him, she thought, and wished for a second that she could help him.
That made her smirk for a second because Kayla couldn’t even help herself.
“Looked like he was hanging out with some college kids.”
“Maybe,” Erin said. She sounded distracted. “Sure you don’t want to go talk to Tristan? I think you two could have a lot of fun. C’mon. I can’t do anything. I’m in a relationship.”
“With a guy you love,” Kayla reminded her friend.
“Yeah.” Erin grabbed Kayla’s arm to keep her from running away, “Don’t look now, but he’s coming over here.” At first, Kayla didn’t realize what that meant because she didn’t play these games. Other girls could be strategists who knew tactics and cover with guys.
Something cold hit her stomach when she turned and saw Tristan standing there. He smiled at her. “Hi.”
“And that’s my cue,” Erin said despite the pleading look Kayla flashed over her empty cup, “I have to go check my laundry or something.”
“Don’t worry,” Tristan promised, “you can bail if you want.” He held up his hand. “No hard feelings.”
“Bail? No, I wouldn’t do something like that.” She might want to, but she’d try not to leave a guy standing there. That was something Isaac told her about before. Sure, waiting for a guy to come up and talk to you was tough. Crossing that room, knowing she might say no, and having to walk back, that was so much harder because everyone sees your epic fail.
“Glad to hear it,” he wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, “You had me pretty scared there.” He smiled a male model’s smile, like it was practiced and perfectly designed to make anyone who saw it feel good about the world. “I’m Tristan.”
“Kayla.”
“I haven’t seen you around much.”
“This isn’t really my scene.”
“Not a gamer?”
“Or a guy.”
“Glad to hear it.” That same smile dimpled his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Otherwise, I think I might’ve had to run.” Before an awkward pause could hit the conversation, “So if this isn’t your thing, what is?”
“Hanging out with friends.” Easy answer and true, though Kayla didn’t have to say it didn’t happen so much anymore. “Movies. Skating sometimes. Usual stuff.” That was the easy part about Sacramento. Outside those two activities, there wasn’t much to do.
“Favorite movies?”
“C’mon. That’s kind of a hard question.”
“Not always,” he said. “Sometimes people know exactly what they want and like.”
“That’s not me.”