Mark of the Seer (19 page)

Yes, nice weather we're havin'. Oh, by the way, I'm a Seer who sees angels and demons, and I also have celestial essence in the palms of my hands that can send demons back to hell. Oh, and did I mention I can also drive demons out of the bodies of humans that are possessed?

Yeah, I'm sure a conversation like that would go over just swell.

“Well, we did talk about it, and you and Janey had your schedules fixed so we could all go together. Also, we're going to the movies afterward, so ya can't back out.” She crossed her arms and glared at me defiantly, daring me to argue with her.

I glared back. “What if I had a super good reason not to go?”

“Oh, please! What reason would you have to not go dress shoppin'?”

“Like, maybe not havin' a date to go to the stupid dance?” I replied sarcastically.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that Brenton hasn't asked me yet.”

Flabbergasted she asked, “He
hasn't?”

“No, he hasn't,” I said, frowning.

“Well,” she pondered, staring into the empty air. “Maybe he thinks he doesn't have to ask, since you guys are together now.”

“But Kevin asked you,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, but we've just started dating—you and Brenton have known each other forever.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You really think that justifies him not asking me to the dance?”

“Yeah, I do,” she stated matter-of-factly. Suddenly her eyes started darting across the store. “Hey, what time is it? I've got to go to work.”

“You're workin' tonight?”

She sighed dramatically. “Night shift—the dreaded one night a month filled with cleaning the entire building from top to bottom. Luckily there're four others who have been sentenced along with me.” She started walking to the door, pulling her black hoodie on.

“Hey, Kora?”

“Yeah?” She stopped in front of the door, her green eyes glancing back.

I hesitated before saying, “Be careful out there—you never know who's watchin' ya.”

“Yeah, ma,” she jeered, opening the door. “Don't worry—Kev's gonna be with me the whole time!” Turning away from me, she plowed right into someone entering the store.

“Oomph!”

Brenton, looking startled, almost fell on his butt. I had to stifle a laugh because the sight of a one hundred pound Kora knocking a one hundred and eighty pound Brenton on his tail would've been quite a view.

Kora laughed, turning her gaze back to me.

“Good news, Clare. Now that Brenton's here, you guys can continue our talk about how cute his bum-bum is and how great he'd look in a skin tight suit under corny fake leaves and gym lights!”

Brenton shot her a funny look. “Why Kora! I had no clue you cared.” He leaned back as she leaned closer to him.

“Whatever Clarity loves, I love,” she told him teasingly, waggling her eyebrows.

“Kora. Out.” I pointed toward the door.

She busted out with laughter. “Okay. Bye, lovebirds! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” She walked by Brenton, running to her car.

Brenton looked at me. “Knowing Kev, nothing is exactly what's happenin'!”

“Oh, Brenton,” I argued, “even Kevin's not that big of a prude.”

Brenton tapped his chin reflectively. “Yeah, you're probably right. He
is
dating Kora.”

“My point exactly.”

He began walking to my counter and that was when I realized he was holding something behind his back.

“So, what ya got behind your back?” I asked inquisitively.

A sly smile caressed his lips. “A little surprise,” he said as he made it to my counter.

“
Ooh-kay,” I said, puzzled.

“You know, you are the prettiest cashier in the whole town of Garlandton,” he told me, leaning forward and kissing my lips tenderly.

“Can I ask ya a question?” he said against my lips.

“Anything,” I responded, breathing in his scent, which was a mixture between cinnamon and his cologne.

Taking a step back he brought a single sunflower from behind his back.

“Will you go with me to the Thanksgiving dance?”

“It's wonderful!” I exclaimed excitedly, grabbing the sunflower from his hand. “How did ya know sunflowers were my favorite?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I remembered from when we were little, how you always talked about them reminding you of the sun. Which works out great for me since my mom has a patch of them behind our house.”

I held the flower up to my face and looked up at him angelically, batting my lashes. “I absolutely love it.”

A pleased expression crossed over his face.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I asked, still admiring my sunflower.

A blush traveled slowly across his face. “Will you go to the dance with me?”

I smiled. “Oh, yeah. Of course I'll go with ya.” I leaned into him and gave him a hasty kiss on the lips. He leaned forward some more.

“You are such a tease,” he whispered seductively.

I got right in his face. “That's what ya love about me.” I then grabbed him around his neck and kissed him firmly on his lips.

The bell sounded at the door, signaling a customer. We pulled apart and I giggled.

“I gotta go. Love you.” He gave my hand a squeeze.

I squeezed it back. “Love ya more.”

* * * *

That night I drove home for the first time in ages not on the edge of insanity. With the dance just a week away and having a for sure date to it, I was finally able to look forward to something that was not of the supernatural world. I was getting use to Sam appearing whenever he wanted, offering support that came along with the knowledge he fed into my brain. With his support came positivity, helping me not to dwell on the negative side of becoming a Seer, but on all the good that could come out of it.

Also on the positive side, the demons had not shown their ugly mugs since that night in the parking lot, which also aided in me being positively charged.

I had told him about the angel at school, the beautiful girl in the white dress. In response he had said that she was Brenton's angel, and her name was Sarah. Even knowing about the existence of celestial beings, I had been shocked to learn not that she was an angel, but that she was Brenton's angel. Of course he had calmed me down and told me to just get use to seeing more and more angels—that's just how it was being a Seer. In simpler terms, he had told me to just deal with it.

When I got home, I found a vase to put my beautiful sunflower in, placing it on the kitchen table. Finding my hidden bottle of scotch, I decided that even though it was chilly outside I was going to hangout on my rooftop. I grabbed my blue and yellow quilt and climbed out of my window onto the roof, careful not to drop the bottle of amber fluid.

I was amazed to see how clear the sky looked. The moon was full and the stars decorated the sky with ornate beauty. Covering up with my quilt I took a long sip of scotch, letting the liquid warm my insides. I closed my eyes and breathed in the crisp clean air. My ears perked up when I heard the flutter of wings somewhere above me, a hint of lavender invading the air sharply.

Opening my eyes I wasn't surprised to see Sam sitting next to me, his hands folded in his lap. A huge smile harbored his handsome face as he admired the stars.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” he murmured softly. “Looking up at God's creations is such a blessing in itself.”

I gazed at him, the moon lighting up his pale face. I still could not believe he was my guardian angel. That night he was wearing a black shirt and black pants, causing him to blend into the night. He turned to me, his aqua blue eyes shining brightly.

“I've always like the moon,” I confessed, once again entranced by his totally raw resplendence.

He grinned. “I know. When you were little you'd always tell your parents you wanted to fly to the moon.”

I smiled as memories of my childhood flooded back. “Yeah, and they would tell me that if I worked really hard that I just might make it there.” Tears gathered in my eyes.

“Whatever my dreams were, no matter how stupid or immature, they always talked them up, fueling my imagination—like I could accomplish anything.”

He looked over at me dolefully.

“They loved you very much.”

My gaze turned back to the stars. “Tell me, Sam—why now?”

“What?”

“Why show up now?” I asked, looking at him. “Why didn't ya show up that night my parents died?”

He turned his gaze back to the sky.

“I was there with you, but it was not time for you to meet me.” He gently held my hand, his warmth calming me more than the scotch. “It wasn't time for you to learn the truth, to learn what you were created to be.”

“I think it would've been the perfect night,” I whispered, tears spilling over my eyelids and coating my cheeks. “Because if I'd found out everything that night, maybe I'd be a little more prepared today.”

He gently took me in his arms and embraced me. I wanted to pull away—I wanted to be angry with him with everything I held inside me! Instead, I put my arms around him, his body warming me more than my quilt, his touch calming me more than the liquor I held in my hand. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his chest, his lavender smell wavering all around me. All of my senses gave into him, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

“Don't fear the road ahead, because you won't go it alone,” he said as I headed toward la-la land. Then he added in a whisper, “I am where you are.”

* * * *

I was standing in the middle of a dark alley, the orange glow of a nearby light casting an eerie glare on the pavement beneath my feet. An unpleasant smell loomed in the air, causing me to gag.

Where am I? I thought to myself, my eyes taking in my surroundings.

It was nighttime, the moon and stars absent from the sky. Thick rain clouds
replaced them, a rumble in the distance threatening that a storm was coming. On the ground trash was strewn everywhere, the alley's one and only dumpster busting at its seams with crap and crud. I felt cold and scared, but most of all confused, because I did not consciously know how I had gotten to this dark, disgusting place.

Being alone in a smelly littered-up alley was definitely not on the top of my list of fun things to do.

A whimper echoed in the alley, the sound of a girl crying bounced of the brick walls of the buildings and pierced my ears. I took a step forward then stopped, rubbing at the goosebumps covering my bare arms. The crying was coming from the very back of the alley, possibly from behind the overloaded dumpster.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice cracking, unsure of what to expect. “Is anyone there?”

The whimpering continued, a pitiful sad sound. Against my better judgment I began walking forward. My legs felt like Jell-O as I stepped over piles of rotted food and trash, the horrible smell continuing to burn my nostrils. Rats were crawling all over the place, squeaking as they made their way through the rank debris. My heart was thudding in my ears and my brain was screaming at me to turn back, but instead of listening I trudged ahead.

“Hello?” I called again.

The weak voice of a girl called back.

“Please help me.”

“I'm coming!” I hollered, adrenaline rushing through my veins, causing me to pick up the pace. When I got to the dumpster, I peered to the side of it and gasped.

Laying in a heap on the dirty ground was Daria. She looked at me through wide eyes, her black mascara streaking down her tear-stained face. Her red lipstick was smudged over her lips; the red mini-dress she was wearing harbored a huge rip on one side.

What was so horrifying was the cuts and bruises all over her bare flesh, like she had been in one hellacious fight. Up and down her arms and legs were scrapes, cuts, and bruises, some looking very recent, some healing. From what I could see, there wasn't a part of her body not riddled with pain.

“Daria,” I spoke calmly, bending to one knee, “what's happened
to you?”

She looked up at me with terrified eyes.

“He's coming,” she told me, her bottom lip trembling. “He's gonna kill me.”

Taken back by her admission I asked, “Who, Daria? Who's gonna kill you?”

Taking me by surprised she sat up, grabbing me roughly by the shoulders. She was breathing in ragged breaths and her hands were as cold as ice. Our faces close, our noses almost touching, I could see her eyes were bloodshot and dilated, the whites of her eyes almost non-existent.

“You know who,” she whispered, then, as if all her energy exited her body, she slumped to the ground unconscious.

I reached down to feel her pulse—it was very weak.

“Daria, wake up,” I said, gently patting her face.