Bladed Wings (7 page)

“Not really.”

“We go out and he’d listen to me and I’d feel special because he’d have all of his attention on me. Like with Travis, my last boyfriend, we’d go out and it didn’t bug me then, but Travis would always be checking out other girls.”

“How old was he?”

“Does it matter?”

Timothy laughed, “Probably not.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think so little of us?” he laughed.

“What? That guys are actually that superficial?” Lips tightened in thought, she decided, “Yeah, I do.” But she chuckled and Timothy didn’t care if he had to sell out every other guy just to hear her laugh again. Those sounds made him happier than good grades or winning money . She didn’t need to do anything else. Then again, being near her had the same effect. Something about her intoxicated and hypnotized. She triggered the happy parts of his brain.  “Travis was a jerk anyway.”

Jenny was an angel. And Timothy couldn’t tell if it mattered, if she got some superpower because of her heritage. Like maybe all angels were hot and evoked the same feelings in the people around them. For a second, he tried and failed to think of something better than her. Tripping over a fist-sized nugget of gold, getting elected President, or discovering an immortality serum wouldn’t have felt as wonderful as talking there with Jenny.

“You okay?”

“Uh,” he said, “yeah,” and snapped back to that walkway with that girl.

“You looked pretty lost. Anything good?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon,” Jenny pulled, “I’m telling you everything about me and Terrance and you can’t share one little thought with me? Doesn’t sound fair.”

“I was thinking. Just thinking.”

“C’mon now,” she said again. “You have to tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not much of a reason.”

“But it’s true. You have to tell me. I’m telling you, you have to tell me.”

“And that makes it true.”

“Sure,” she said with a straight face that still had the corners of her lips tugging up, like it took all of her concentration to stay serious. “It’s a new law. One I just made up. New, sure, but just as valid.”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that.”

“Prove it.”

“You can’t prove a negative.”

“Of course you can,” Jenny said, “Watch.” Holding one hand up, palm flat, she waved at it with the other, “See this?”

“Yeah, your hand.”

“Well, there are no peaches in it. See, I just proved a negative.” Grinning, she stuck out her tongue. He crossed his arms with every intention of being surly and insulted, but his body broke and he had to smile, had to laugh at her even as she started, “Can’t beat me! You think you can, but no! No one beats the Jenny.”

“The Jenny?”

“I’m the only one.”

“Right.”

“The only one who counts,” she said. One arm pressed against the rail, Jenny faced him. Timothy snuck a glance at her, and he thought this was fantastic, perfect, every adjective he could hope for. “And as the only one who counts, I know you need to tell me what you were thinking about.”

“A girl.”

“Really? Girlfriend?”

“No,” he said, but this felt too awkward. He could’ve sat there and complimented her without ever telling her, and that depressed him, so instead he reminded her, “I came up here to help you.” And he loathed how helping her could lead Jenny back to the boyfriend. Jeremiah would’ve played saboteur, but then Jeremiah didn’t fall in love. Not like this. “What’s changed?”

“He won’t tell me anything. It’s like he had that line about his brothers and being great with kids, but after that he won’t say anything about himself.”

“That’s a problem. Right?”

“You are a guy, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

              “It shows,” Jenny said with her same half-hidden smile.

              “Why does it bother you?”

              “I guess I’m not sure it does, but then it feels kind of—I don’t know—dishonest.”

              “You don’t trust him.”

              “I don’t have any reason not to,” she said. “He’s always been really sweet, always this guy who’s more gentleman than anything else. And I’m happy when I’m with him.”

              “But there’s still something bothering you.”

              “Yes.” She spun around her back against the railing, “Am I crazy?”

              “No,” Timothy said. “But maybe you should talk to him. Have you tried?”

              “That would be the sane thing to do.”

              “Exactly.”

              “But should I have to? I mean, we’re dating. Three months. Shouldn’t he have shared something with me already? It’s not like I’m not paying attention. I really am, and I try asking questions, then it somehow always comes back to me.”

              “Sit down. Talk to him. Not very exciting, I know, but it could work.”

              “Thanks Timothy.”

              “No problem,” and he took that as his invitation to leave. It sucked, though he wouldn’t be the guy to hang around her with a puppy’s devotion—no matter how much he felt like a puppy. No matter how devoted he became.

              He was half way back to the stairs when she called after him, “Timothy?”

              “Yeah?” Too much hope.

              “You’re different, you know? Good different.”

              “That’s because I’m the devil.”

              And she laughed again, “Nah. You’re too nice for something like that.”

“What’re you doing?” Timothy opened the door and half-floated across the room. Back at his bedroom, he tossed his coat onto his bed and came back to the living room. It was a bit cold, but somehow he savored the sensation as if the radiance of having been with Jenny could keep him warm against any temperature in the real world.

“Studying something,” Jeremiah answered and perked up when he saw his friend come back into the living room, “But the real question is, what have you been doing?”

“What? Why?” Timothy asked, fighting the urge to hold up his hands.

Jeremiah squinted like he’d find something in Timothy’s expression. Maybe he did, because he pointed out, “You look happy. Suspiciously happy.”

“How can you be suspiciously happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you killed someone you really didn’t like. Uh, you could have stolen some diamond somewhere. That or you could have gotten some very nice drugs. All of which are illegal and all of which I have a right to know about.”

“Why?”

“Simple,” Jeremiah said. “Any of those reasons and you pose a threat to me. If you were a good friend, you’d be willing to tell me why I shouldn’t trust you. That’s real honesty. There’s no one worse than a guy who says he’s honest because he’s probably lying because he’s probably lied at some point. But then you get a liar who admits it, and hey, you know who you’re dealing with and you can plan accordingly. Which brings us back to that first question, why are you so happy?”

“No reason,” Timothy said.

“C’mon.”

“Really,” Timothy said, “I’m not that happy.” And if he thought about it, there wasn’t a reason for it. The glow of excitement shouldn’t have simmered in his chest. He shouldn’t have moved like he was on the edge of singing. They talked, sure, but it wasn’t supposed to be special. Billions of guys talked to billions of girls every day. Nothing special there. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did. It so totally did.

And she still had her boyfriend—that evaporated some of the fun and joy of knowledge, but not enough of it. He talked to her. They had a conversation and she was nice, and maybe he helped her. Timothy leaned back, basking in the fantastic accomplishment of not running away.

“You’re a liar. Worse than a liar, you’re a bad liar.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m honest,” Jeremiah smirked.

“So I shouldn’t trust you?”

“Never.” Setting his book on their coffee table, “So what happened?”

“I talked to her.”

“Hot neighbor girl? I’d ask how it went, but your lover’s grin says you’re about to score.” Jeremiah crossed his arms over his chest like there were no other possibilities.

“No.”

“But you talked to her? Your first step.”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“So?” Jeremiah asked, “She’s what, nineteen?”

“Somewhere around there.”

“Most marriages don’t last. What makes you think her relationship will? Dude, they’re not even sharing bank accounts yet. They’ll break up when he forgets Valentine’s Day or when she decides she needs someone different. People are fickle. They change their minds.”

“So you think I should just wait?”

“Well, I’d suggest you do something more aggressive, but you’re too good for that.”

“Right. You know you just totally wrecked my mood?”

“What’d I do?” Jeremiah demanded. “Make you remember that she has someone else in her life?”

“Yes.”

“Not my fault.”

“Then whose is it?” Timothy wanted to know.

“His. But if it makes you feel any better, he’s probably a jerk.”

“I doubt it. We talked about him. She sounded pretty happy.”

“You talked about him? That must’ve been fun.”

“The best.”

“What’d you discover? Anything valuable?”

“I helped her.”

“How?” Jeremiah asked, suspicious. “Tell me it’s not something you’re going to regret.”

“No,” Timothy shook his head. “I won’t regret it. I helped her with her relationship. They were having a problem, and I gave her some advice.”

“I’d hit you if I had a rolled up newspaper, you realize that, right?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s terrible. You want the girl so you offer relationship advice?” Then something occurred to him, “Wait, are you actually this bad with women? Because if you gave her bad advice, then you’re brilliant.”

“I tried to help her.”

“Terrible.”

“I care about her.”

              “And that makes you stupid?”

              On Sunday, Timothy drove to campus and went to the school’s arboretum. At the north end of campus, trees and never-used park benches stood between Sac State and one of the busy streets that fed into the campus. A hundred yards in either direction would’ve exposed Timothy to streams of traffic along Fair Oaks or the administrative buildings where the office workers produced all the paperwork necessary to run the college. But this little park was empty and obscure as usual. A year and a half at Sac State and he never saw anyone there.

              That’s why it was a good place to practice.

              Exhaling, Timothy walked the dirt path, his shoes crunching on stray branches and dried mud. If it were one in the morning, there’d be raccoons running up and down the trees. Turkeys came here in the afternoons, but he didn’t see any. The only creatures to scurry up and down the trees were squirrels. Sac State had something close thirty thousand students and ninety thousand squirrels.

              After he walked around, nervous and eager to make sure there weren’t any potheads who decided they wanted to connect with nature on this random day, Timothy closed his eyes and shook out his hands. Standing, he tried to ignore the feeling of his arms, his legs, and his body. He didn’t think about the weight of his body, the feel of winter air, or anything else.

              Cordinox taught him a start, but he needed a better understanding. There might come a moment when he’d have to protect Jenny. He had to master this demon soul, how he made the tentacles, and what they could do. He’d need to know how to fight.

              He had to understand the shadow coiled around his soul.

              His soul, Timothy thought. He couldn’t feel a difference. The only clue that promised he’d changed were the slivers of dark that always streamed across his fingers, palms, and knuckles. After that, the world didn’t change.

              Except for a girl made of light, a man who went from five eleven to eight one, and their leader—the man who could jump through space. Right, his life hadn’t changed. On the happy side, he did talk to Jenny.

              That shouldn’t have been an accomplishment.

              That shouldn’t have felt like the world’s most important victory.

              But it did.

              “Stop it,” Timothy told no one. “C’mon dude. Focus.”

              He took a couple steps, paced back and forth, stretched his fingers, and tried to shake distractions from his muscles. Halting, he exhaled again, and let his eyelids fall.
Don’t think about anything,
he ordered.
Just relax. Let it come.
But he wasn’t relaxed. Without thinking about it, without words, he searched through the darkness, trying to find the color, the charcoal gray that made those tendrils.