A God to Fear (Thorn Saga Book 5) (28 page)

They met on a hillside, the girl and her demon. She wore a sleeveless, knee-length viridian dress covered with white polka dots. He wore a sky blue polo shirt with khaki shorts. Small white clouds drifted in front of the morning sun.

The hill sloped downward away from them, past a hundred other people picnicking on blankets, relaxing on lawn chairs, or flying kites with their families. Pet dogs chased each other across the fields. Atlanta’s treetops and rooftops stretched to the horizon.

Thorn and Amy looked at none of this. They were looking at each other.

Thorn had always had difficulty making friends. And, as Thorn knew all too well, so had Amy. Even though they’d helped each other through the greatest trials of their respective lives, they’d never before met under ordinary circumstances. Now Thorn didn’t know how to behave around her, and he felt distressingly self-conscious—poetically so, given the mountains of anxiety beneath which he’d buried Amy over the years.
Am I standing straight enough? Am I walking like a normal human? Do I smell?
The questions kept coming. After neither he nor Amy had spoken for minutes, he was forced to shut the nagging uncertainties out.

But Amy spoke first. “I don’t know you as well as I would like to,” she said.

Thorn grinned. “And I don’t know you as well as I should.”

… And the conversation reached gridlock again. Amy giggled. Thorn laughed. He considered asking her what she’d told the police, or what she’d told Shelley about her adventure at the courthouse. He almost asked what the doctors had thought of her wounds healing so abruptly. And then he thought it might be pertinent to inquire about Amy’s mom, how she was weathering this tumultuous month, and if Amy was planning to live with her, or back at her dorm. For that matter, perhaps Thorn should ask how school was going for her.

But small talk seemed oddly beneath them. Their connection went deeper than that.
Dammit, why am I so tongue-tied?

“I, uh, I paid your debt to Lexa,” Thorn stammered.

Amy goggled at him. “You what?”

“Your, uh, your tuition too. I’ve got your tuition covered through your graduation, if you’ll accept it.”

Amy stumbled in place. Her knees looked like they were fighting to give out, and like she was fighting back.

“I, uh… uh, wow. I…” She steadied herself. She looked up at him with overflowing curiosity. “What’s your name? Your real name. You’re not
really
called Thorn, are you?”

She had a good point. Thorn hadn’t yet considered what to call himself on Earth. His current moniker was likely to brand him as a gang member or a failed rock singer, so a new name would be necessary. But what other name could he become comfortable with? Balthior? Obviously not.

“Virgil,” Thorn said. “My name is Virgil.”

Amy smiled a smile so big that it might have gone all the way down to her heart. Self-consciousness reared its head again as Amy tried and failed to hold back her stunning grin. “Well, Virgil, I’d like to get to know you.”

She lightly touched his hand, and it felt like she’d touched every nerve on his body at once. He pulled away. “I, um, I’ve done a lot of bad things,” he said. “I’ve hurt a lot of people, including you.”

She took his hand again, and though it felt just as exciting as the first time, Thorn calmed himself and let her touch him.

“Have you changed?” she asked.

“Yes. Dear god, yes.” He looked down into her sunlit copper eyes.

“Then we’ll work through it,” she said.

Amy’s words encouraged Thorn a bit, but his unease suddenly blossomed into full-fledged doubt. Silky whispers groped at the back of his mind, threatening him with thoughts of inadequacy, ridiculing his affection, urging him to leave Amy, warning him that any loving relationship between himself and a human was bound to fail. His aspirations were purposeless, the whispers said. They pricked at him, prodded at him, tried to bend him to their will.

With the meticulousness of an inquisitive demon lost in the dark, Thorn considered everything the disparate whispers had to say. He didn’t judge, he didn’t assume, and he didn’t take anything on faith.

In the end, Thorn gazed down on Amy, smiled, and made up his own mind.

I owe loads of gratitude to Robert Eichenberg, Robin Ingle, Marissa DePasquale, and David Sigurani for their feedback and encouragement during the writing of these Thorn books. Extra special thanks goes to Fedor Steer, whose dedication to this project and willingness to give continued criticism over the span of years is humbling and greatly appreciated. Thank you, Fedor, for offering your sharp eyes to these books from the very beginning—and for lending your face to their covers! Thanks also to Reid Nicewonder, for challenging me to always think deeper.

The largest slice of my Thank You pie goes to David Gatewood, whose deft editing took my raw story and raised it to the next level. David, thank you for your honesty and your keen insight, and for helping me craft these books into something truly special.

Last but certainly not least, thank
you
, dear reader. You’re the reason I write. Without you taking a chance on my books, their stories are just thoughts in my head that I happened to scribble on a page. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Joshua Ingle is a pathologically curious sci-fi and fantasy geek. The Thorn Saga is his first series of books.

Learn more at
www.joshuaingle.com
.

Connect with Josh at
www.facebook.com/joshthestoryteller
.