Angel Dares (19 page)

He rested his chin on the top of my head, voice rumbling away against my spine. ‘It’s real, isn’t it, not an illusion?’

‘Yes, Marcus, it’s real.’

We sat in silence for a while, but this time not an awkward one. I let the waves return to their tidemark as I heard footsteps crunch behind us.

‘Hey, that’s awesome,’ I heard one guy say. ‘Can we take a picture for our website?’

We turned round to see a couple of volunteers in blue T-shirts. ‘Sure.’ I leapt up and scuffed out the RCUS, leaving just the M and the A. I added a curly ‘&’ sign between the two:
Marcus & Angel
. ‘Thanks for the competition.’

‘You stand a good chance of winning with this.’

‘Oh yeah? What’s the prize?’

‘Backstage passes to the Gifted gig tonight.’

I burst into laughter. Marcus took my hand and squeezed it in warning. ‘If we win, why don’t you have them, mate? We’ve got other plans, so can’t use them.’

‘Oh wow. Cool—that’d be epic. I’ll text you to let you know how the judging goes.’

Marcus gave the guy his number and we made our way back up the beach.

‘Busted,’ I whispered.

‘How busted?’

‘You, Marcus, are really sweet.’

‘Bang goes my dangerous rock-star persona.’

‘Yes, it sure does.’

‘Must be the influence of my guardian angel.’

Leaving our sandcastle for the tide to erase, Marcus and I went back to the main festival site. The camp was only just now waking up properly and I noticed at least five people staggering about like bears just emerged from hibernation. A good night had by all, evidently.

Marcus pulled the brim of his cowboy hat low over his eyes, checking behind him for signs he had been recognized. All clear so far.

I smiled at his clandestine tactics; he made me feel a little like we were two spies deep in enemy territory.

‘Do we need to change hats?’ I asked him in a stage whisper, pinching the brim of his Stetson. ‘You know: fool the paparazzi with our cunning swap of disguises?’

Marcus stood up tall so I couldn’t yank it off him. ‘I think somehow that wearing a Black Belt baseball cap wouldn’t be a very clever disguise for me—more like painting a target on myself.’

I tried to snag his much cooler hat again. ‘No, that’s where you’re wrong,
amigo
. It’s so overt, it’s covert. The last place people will look for a rock star hiding out from his fans and the press is under his band baseball cap.’

Marcus intercepted my attempted snatch by grabbing me around the waist and turning me so my back was to his front. ‘Or maybe most people will just think “Oh look: that guy’s wearing a Black Belt hat—he reminds me a lot of Marcus Cohen—it
is
Marcus Cohen!—tweet his picture now and gather the press pack.” Trust me, most people aren’t as devious as you.’

‘You might have a point.’

He relaxed his hold. ‘Am I safe to let go? No underhand plans to steal my Stetson? It was given to me by a real cowboy in Texas, you know.’

‘I’ll leave it—for now.’ I squeaked as he tickled me in punishment. ‘I just think it would suit me.’

‘It would swallow you up. All we would see is a little pair of feet shuffling along.’

‘Big-head!’

‘My point exactly. I’ll get a midget-sized one for you when we go on tour to the States in September.’ He squeezed my hand as we linked up to carry on walking. ‘OK, I think I’m ready to hear more about this gift of yours. How does it work?’

Marcus’s interest surprised me—as did the hint that he thought we might still be in contact in the autumn. I thought he was going to sit tight in deep denial but somehow seeing me play with the ocean had convinced him in a way that party tricks with drinks had not.

Feeling more optimistic about his cautious steps into my world, I laced my fingers with his. ‘I’m not sure exactly. Savants—that’s what we call ourselves—have gifts that come out in all sorts of different ways. My mum can control air to a certain extent and Dad can do telekinesis—you know, move stuff with his mind?’

He nodded, showing he was following, but in the manner of a judge reserving verdict until the end of the trial. He might have been thinking that I was spinning a fantasy—any normal person would without proof.

‘I guess my gift is a blend of the two: like Mum I have power over something in nature—water in my case—and I must be using some form of telekinesis when I move it.’ I wrinkled my nose in thought. ‘Though it’s not really like standard telekinesis as I feel part of the water when I’m manipulating it.’ Embarrassed by his silence on the subject, I laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘I know, I know, it’s all a bit woo-woo dippy-hippy when I describe it like that.’

He didn’t join in my laughter. ‘Almost everything contains water—can you use it to harm someone?’

‘The thought has honestly never struck me. Why would I want to do that?’

‘It’s just that the idea of people having these hidden powers is unnerving—like a concealed weapon.’

Crumbs: I was in the dock, wasn’t I, M’lud? ‘I suppose I could use water to help me get out of danger but I’d never attack anyone with it.’ I then remembered what I had done to Jay. ‘Well, not to harm them.’

His gaze sharpened, latching on to my amused expression. ‘But you have used it against someone?’

Smiling, sure he would see the joke, I told him how I had doused Jay’s ardour in the dressing room.

Marcus took another direction to being entertained. His glower went up a couple of notches. ‘You mean that jerk isn’t just all mouth—he really put his hands on you?’

At least I was no longer the target of his suspicions. I placated the growling lion by stroking his paw. ‘You don’t need to worry: when I finished with Jay he really was the embodiment of the phrase “all mouth and no trousers” as he had to change them.’ I snorted in a burst of most unglamorous hilarity. I don’t laugh in a ladylike fashion, unfortunately.

He gave in to a reluctant smile. ‘I guess I stand warned.’

‘That’s right, Romeo: too much hands-on stuff and you’ll get cooled off very rapidly.’

‘I suppose I should be grateful you can protect yourself.’ He looked away over my head, distancing himself. I was beginning to realize that this was how he absorbed things: find out some answers then assimilate them. I had to give him time.

We were almost back at the security check for the performers’ area.

‘Oh my gosh, it’s him! I swear it’s Marcus Cohen!’ The squeal went up from a cluster of young women staking out the entrance. It was like throwing bread to a flock of seagulls: suddenly, we were mobbed as festival programmes were shoved under our noses. Marcus’s cowboy hat got knocked back on his head and I was pretty much trampled as irrelevant.

‘Guys, guys, give us some space here,’ called Marcus, trying to keep hold of my hand in the scrum.

‘Are you going to release a new album soon?’

‘Remember me: I saw you in Birmingham when you were first starting out? You signed my shoulder—I had it inked into a tattoo.’ The limb was waved between us, clipping me on the nose.

‘Oh my: that’s amazing—will you sign my arm?’

The requests came thick and fast as more body parts were bared in his direction—and some of them were hardly decent.

‘Please, just step back a little, ladies.’ Marcus sounded quite spooked by their intensity. At a music venue, he would rarely emerge without minders these days but I’d tempted him to walk on the wild side and felt responsible for getting him out. I slipped my fingers free of Marcus’s hand, ducked backwards through the crowd and whipped off my baseball cap and glasses to join the throng. If you can’t beat ’em: join ’em.

‘Look—look!’ I squawked in my best fangirl voice. ‘It’s him—it’s Kurt Voss. He’s heading for the food stalls—quick!’

Like iron filings attracted by a stronger magnet, they turned towards me.

‘Kurt Voss? Where?’

‘Oh my God, I’d die if I got his autograph!’

‘He’s hardly ever seen in public—come on!’

‘There he is!’ I started running towards the French bakery stall, provoking the diversion of most of Marcus’s horde to a new target. There just happened to be an innocent tall lean guy wearing a hat and sunglasses in the queue who was about to have his quiet morning disrupted. Hopefully he would enjoy fending off the attention of young groupies baring skin for his signature. Letting them overtake me, I fell back, saw Marcus sign a few paper-based items for his real fans who had stayed behind, then hooked his arm. ‘C’mon, superstar, let’s get your very excellent ass back in the safe zone.’

Marcus politely excused himself from his admirers and followed me past the security check. ‘I’m hiring you as my bodyguard.’

‘You could do with one.’ Feeling chipper about my clever ruse, I sang a snatch from the
Bodyguard
musical. Oh cripes: perhaps
I will always love you
was not the right lyric just at the moment, considering the confused state of our relationship.

Marcus pulled me to one side of the entrance to the green room yurt. ‘Seriously? Does this soulfinder connection mean you will?’

I studied the middle buttons on his open shirt. ‘Hey, it’s just a song.’

He took a step back. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘But I do like you Marcus—a lot. I even liked you when you were being foul to me and treating me like crud—don’t ask me why.’

He moved back and put his hand on the pole next to my head so he leaned in over me. ‘I like you too. I think you might even be good for me. That’s Kurt’s take on you. He has this instinct about people.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s a little like a radar for frauds and fakes. It’s helped him get on in a cut-throat business. Anyway, he says I’m too serious. Do you think I’m too serious?’

Oh Lord: it was like being in a little slice of paradise being herded into a corner between the open flaps of Marcus’s shirt, so close I could smell his warm scent overlaid by
eau de
salt water—a personal favourite of this particular savant. What had he asked? Oh yes.

‘Maybe you do take yourself a little too … you know … ?’ I toyed with a button, slipping it through its hole and letting it free again.

‘And I need to lighten up?’

‘Only if you want to. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think I’ve got an agenda to change you. I like you as you are—mostly.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Mostly?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, you wanted honesty. Go to one of the many groupie girls lining up outside if you want flattery.’

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘And what can I do to make you like me fully?’

Try telepathy? No, this wasn’t the moment, Angel. Learn your lesson. Don’t spoil everything by rushing him.

‘Give me your autograph?’ I teased. ‘Where did that girl want it? Her arm?’

He bent down and kissed the sensitive skin of my inner wrist and worked his way up, lips brushing out the letters of his name. I shivered.

‘That is … so much better than a pen.’ Heavens, I was going to melt into a puddle of hopeless excitement if he carried on. ‘If you do that to all your fans, you will have a very devoted following.’

‘Only to you, Angel.’ His mouth finally made it home and settled on mine. His kiss set sparkling a chain of magnificent sensation: lips, spine, hair on back of neck, waist …

A clearing of a throat broke into our little moment. I disentangled myself from Marcus to find Will and Margot waiting for us to surface. And they were holding hands! I sent a little yippee-kai-yay telepathically to Will, who winked back at me. Cat. Got. Cream. And now purring with pleasure. Margot looked rather like a wind-battered seabird just flown in on a storm, but I think she was pleased in her own way. It had to have been one heck of a shock for her. She hardly woke up this morning thinking ‘Hey, let’s completely change the fundamentals of my life today.’

‘I see you guys are getting along well,’ said Margot with a twinkle in her eye.

Not as well as I would like
, I told Will.
Marcus is still in denial about his own gift and won’t touch telepathy with a barge pole.

Will grimaced in sympathy. ‘No telepathy, remember,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Bit late, isn’t it? I rather thought that particular horse had bolted as far as I’m concerned.’

While Will and I batted that one between us, Marcus was trying to figure out who this stranger was and quite why he was up so close and personal with the tour manager.

‘Marcus,’ said Margot, ‘let me introduce Will Benedict. He’s a good friend of Angel and—’

‘He’s Margot’s extra-special friend in a way we are absolutely forbidden to mention because it gives you the heebie jeebies,’ I said brazenly.

Angel, behave
, warned Will.

I thought you said no telepathy?

Will gave me that exasperated look that so many wear in my vicinity. He held out a hand to Marcus. ‘Good to meet you.’

Marcus seemed to like him—at least he shook his hand firmly and didn’t call security. ‘Nice to meet you. Sorry to be blunt, Will, but what’s he doing here, Margot? We’ve got a big show tonight.’

‘I know, Marcus, but something’s come up. We’re just going to fetch his brothers and then we’ll have a meeting. The tour bus in five minutes, OK?’ Margot patted Marcus’s arm, trying to allay his suspicion. I could have told her it would take much more than that.