Death and the Girl Next Door (19 page)

“That’s pretty amazing.” Pausing thoughtfully, she asked, “So, what color is mine?”

“Oh, no,” he said, turning to her with a wary expression. “Trust me. You do not want to go there.”

She gasped. “Is it bad?”

“Awful.”

Clasping her hands at her chest, she said bravely, “Go ahead. Tell me. I can take it.”

I knew from the tilt of his lips, he would give her a bogus answer. He leaned toward her and whispered. “It’s purple with pink polka dots.”

She threw her pillow at him. “It is not.”

He caught it easily. “How do you know?”

“Just tell me, butthead.”

He laughed and tossed her pillow back. “What are you gonna do for me?”

“What am I gonna do for you?” she asked, sitting up. “What do you mean, what am I gonna do for you? I can’t do anything for you. You’re, like, all strong and crap.”

With a grin more evil than before, he regarded her a long moment. She braced herself for whatever he might say. “You could tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

She rolled her eyes in disappointment. “I don’t have any deep, dark secrets. Least not any that compare with the likes of yours.”

“Your aura speaks otherwise,” he said. Clearly, he knew something she didn’t.

“Yeah, whatever. So, do auras change color?”

“All the time. When someone gets mad or depressed. Pretty much any strong emotion will change a person’s aura temporarily. You wouldn’t believe how badly a laughing person can be seething underneath. It’s … intimidating.”

“I never thought anything could intimidate you.”

He looked at her in surprise. “I’ve been intimidated by you since the third grade.”

Brooklyn stilled, completely taken off guard. “Me? Get outta here.”

“No, really. Your aura was so different from any I’d seen before. I didn’t know what to think of you.”

“Wow.” She wiggled her shoulders. “I’m intimidating. That’s kind of liberating in a bizarre, dominatrix kind of way. So are you gonna tell me the color or what?”

“I don’t know if I should. I could use it as leverage someday.”

“Fine,” she said, feigning disinterest. I could tell she was dying to know—especially since it was so intimidating and all—but she decided to drop it for now. “I order you to get some sleep, then.”

“Another order?” He raised his brows, amused. “You gonna pull that water pistol on me again?”

With a soft gasp, she asked, “You knew that was a water pistol?” After he shot her a
duh
-like smirk, she said, “I can’t believe you knew it was a water pistol.”

“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically, “the differences between a water pistol and a Glock are really subtle.”

“Okay, then why did you back down?”

He lowered his head and asked quietly, “Didn’t you want me to?”

Judging by the look on her face, the question stunned her. I know it stunned the heck out of me. She didn’t seem to know how to answer.

After a moment, her expression changed. “Tell you what,” she said, jumping down, “I’ll take the window seat, and you take the bed. I’m shorter.”

Ouch. That was a big sacrifice for Brooke. She loved that bed. But I totally agreed. Cameron needed to get some Z’s. He was grouchy enough without sleep deprivation adding to his moodiness.

He shook his head. “I can’t go to sleep.”

She walked to him and grabbed his shirt. “Come on, Rocky.”

He let her pull him over to the bed. With a reluctant sigh, he lay down. She tossed a blanket over him and giggled at his feet dangling over the edge. Twin beds and super-tall guys did not go well together at all.

“But I’m not sleepy,” he argued.

“I know, I know.” She took a blanket from a shelf and lay down on the window seat.

Personally, I gave him fifteen minutes tops, but his breaths were deep and rhythmic before Brooke even settled in.

She lifted her head and looked past Jared’s sleeping form at me. “Not sleepy, my left butt cheek,” she said.

I laughed.

*   *   *

“It’s her.”

Oh, no. Not again.

“The prophet,” came another hushed whisper. “I told you we would see her.”

For the love of carrot sticks, let me sleep.

The voice, a child’s, whispered again. “She looks like fire.”

I squinted into the darkness, confused by the soft voices, before looking over at Jared. He was awake, sitting against the wall beside me, one leg bent with an arm resting on his knee. What a heavenly vision.

“Do you feel them?” he asked in a hushed tone.

I glanced around. “What?”

“They’re coming.”

“Who?” I tried to sit up straight, but a sharp pain shot through me, causing my teeth to slam together in agony. My ribs hurt worse today than they had yesterday.

“They’re excited to see you.”

“Who’s excited?” I asked again.

He said nary a word, smiled and, without releasing my gaze, gestured to a point behind me.

I glanced back and started in alarm. A child was sitting on the wall just past my head, as though on a levitating bench. He giggled, turned to his friend beside him, and whispered into her ear. She looked at me and giggled too. They covered their mouths with tiny hands as their laughter sparkled and danced around us, illuminating the room, casting shadows on the walls.

Then the boy glanced at Jared and sobered instantly, tucking his chin and averting his eyes.

“Shhhh,” someone said in a faint whisper, and I looked toward Glitch’s sleeping form. A child stood beside him. He pointed up. “She’s coming.”

I scanned the room and counted a dozen children sitting here and there, all dressed in white linen like little angels-in-training. I half expected to see tiny wings and tarnished halos. A few were looking at me in absolute curiosity, but most were gawking at Jared, and I couldn’t help but see fear in their eyes, uncertainty. They watched him warily, huddled close to one another. Then I realized Cameron was awake. He looked on, his eyes wide, uncertain.

“Do it,” one of them said, egging his friend on. “Get closer.” The other one shook his head, so the boy said, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

He took a wary step toward Jared, then another, but the minute Jared focused on him, the boy scrambled back to the corner with his friend.

“You didn’t even get close.”

“I got closer than you,” he said defensively.

Jared shot me a conspiratorial look and winked. “I have a way with children.”

I was about to ask him what was going on, when a bright glow infused the room with a light so brilliant, it woke Brooklyn and Glitch too. They opened their eyes just in time to see a beautiful elderly woman materialize. Her skin was dark, her eyes golden, warm and magnificent. Her robe, thick like liquid pearl, flowed past her feet.

The children looked on adoringly, as if they couldn’t get their fill of her, as though each secretly hoped she would cast her attention their way.

She smiled at Jared. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, unhurried. “Azrael, the noble son, created from the resplendence of light and the void of darkness—”

Jared dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“—you have not been abandoned.” Her smile was like life itself: pure and bright, nurturing and intoxicating. The children echoed her words as she spoke, like whispers in an empty cavern. All except one. I’d noticed a boy, smaller than the rest, who’d tucked himself behind my dresser. He emerged from his haven to slowly creep toward the woman, all the while keeping an eye on Jared as though afraid he would jump up and bite him.

“You have more power, more freedom than any of your brethren,” she continued, a loving shimmer sparkling in her eyes, “and you used it to save her.”

Me? I jumped to attention.

“But I did so for selfish reasons,” Jared said.

“You are of light and darkness. Only you can decide where your true intentions lie.”

“Why am I here?” he asked, suddenly angry.

“Why should I answer what you already know?”

“I’m … not human.” He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t be here.”

“And yet you are.”

“Is He angry?” he asked, regret thickening his voice.

Her expression changed to one of sympathy. “With you? You know He isn’t.”

“Then—”

“He is pleased, Azrael.”

Her words seemed to jar him. He sat up straighter, tightened his jaw in thought, his eyes wide, uncertain.

“Sometimes,” she said, seeming to sense his confusion, “we must swim against the current to find our true purpose. You have proved yourself beyond anything we could have hoped for. Because you have a singular power, one that transcends any of your brethren’s, you alone are best suited to carry out this mission. You know what is to come, and now you are charged with its success.”

His head whipped up in disbelief. “There’s no way to succeed, no way to win. It is written.” He shot to his feet, his fists clenched. “You have sent me to fail.”

She stepped forward, her movements like a soft breeze, as the little boy peeked around her skirts to view Jared. With her nearness, Jared sank onto one knee in reverence. “It was also written that the last prophet of Arabeth would be crushed and would drown in her own blood.”

Jared glanced at me when I made a sound of alarm.

She turned toward me for only an instant, then placed her fingers under his chin and lifted his face to hers. “Perhaps it is time to rewrite what is to be.”

Jared sat back on his heel and frowned, as though trying to make sense of it all.

“You said it yourself: Only humans can change history.”

He focused on her again, a dawning creeping into his eyes before the little boy caught his attention.

Peeking from behind her skirts, the boy smiled at him and held out his hand. Jared’s head tilted in curiosity; then he held out his own hand, palm up.

“Silas, no,” the other children warned, but the boy slid his shaking hand forward. “Silas,” they repeated, but when the boy’s fingers brushed against Jared’s, they all inhaled in disbelief. He had done what they’d been afraid to do. All eyes turned toward the boy in awe, and I realized that these spirits, these supernatural beings, were terrified of Jared.

“But we have sent you help,” the woman said as she surveyed the room, taking in each of our awed faces one by one. Then she turned to Cameron. “Cameron of Jophiel, you have been charged with a great responsibility. It is why you were chosen, why you were created. Do you accept?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, completely mesmerized by her, as though he knew exactly what that responsibility might be.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she looked from me to Brooklyn then to Glitch and crossed her arms in thought.

“Uh-oh,” one of the children said. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“And you three.” She frowned with feigned severity. “I have waited a long time to meet you. I am honored to be in your presence.”

She
was honored? I sat there, staring in awe at the most magnificent being I had ever seen—so bright, I could hardly look at her; so loving, I thought my heart would burst—and
she
was honored?

She leaned toward me. “You, the last prophet of Arabeth, are of fire, an element that can also bring light or darkness, that can do good or cause harm, that can tip the scales or bring balance. Combined with the powers of Azrael, the possibilities are limitless. You may even, given the right circumstances, save the world. You must decide now. Do you accept?”

“Yes.” I answered even faster than Cameron had.

“Lorelei.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Lorelei.”

I bunched my face up, confused again.

“For heaven’s sake, young lady.” Grandma’s voice broke into my dream. “It’s time to get up. You’re going to be late for school.”

I awoke with a start and took in my surroundings. Everyone else was just waking as well. I looked at Jared. He flashed a sleepy, boyishly gorgeous smile at me and I almost seized with the jolt of pleasure that shot through me.

“My heavens. You kids must have been working for hours.” Grandma stood in a flannel button-down and loose slacks, otherwise known as her cleaning duds, her soft blue eyes concerned as she surveyed the room. Glitch was on the floor, Brooklyn on the window seat, and Cameron in Brooklyn’s bed. Rumpled clothes and bed-heads gave us each that much-sought-after, all-night-kegger look. And as amazingly healed as both Jared and Cameron were, their appearance still had a certain bar-brawl quality to it.

Grandma took it all in, pausing a long, long moment on Jared, then looked back at me. “I’ll make some breakfast while you kids get ready for school.”

“Oh, no, Grandma, you don’t need to do that,” I said, trying to sit up without cringing outwardly. Freaking ribs.

“Lorelei Elizabeth McAlister,” she scolded, “you never let me make you breakfast. It’ll just take me a minute.”

I acquiesced. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“I get the first shower!”

Before I could argue, Glitch jumped toward the bathroom. He glanced back, eyeing Cameron, his expression hard, before he locked the door.

“So much for hot water,” Brooklyn said, oblivious.

*   *   *

The morning progressed in a rather tense, tight kind of awkwardness. My grandparents hovered over us throughout breakfast, asking a million questions about the most bizarre things, which was very unlike them. And I didn’t miss the odd looks cast in Jared’s direction, or the quick glances they cast toward each other. I couldn’t blame them. He
had
been sleeping on my floor. Thankfully, the T-shirt he wore had sleeves just long enough to cover the tattoos around his biceps. It was one thing to have a boy in my room. It was another to have a tattooed boy in my room.

The five of us drove to school in utter silence. Glitch reluctantly drove Cameron’s truck again so I could keep an eye on the middleweight contenders in the backseat. But they didn’t say two words to each other. It seemed no one knew quite what to say.

Even though Jared and Cameron were both sore, they weren’t in nearly as much pain as they should’ve been. Their scrapes and bruises were nothing but light marks on their perfect faces now. I wanted to comment on it, but everyone was so quiet, I couldn’t bring myself to speak.