Angelfire (4 page)

THE NEXT MORNING, MY HEAD AND EVERY MUSCLE in my body hurt as if I'd run a marathon through six feet of snow in stilettos. Fragmented chunks of the nightmare I'd had the night before spun through my head. As much as it annoyed me to have dreamed about Will, I was more unsettled because it had been way more vivid and scary than my usual nightmares. Why was I still in my jeans and shirt? My hoodie, however, was AWOL. I dug through my dirty-clothes hamper and the blankets on my bed, but it was nowhere to be found. How had it just disappeared?

What if what happened last night wasn't a dream?

There was a knock on my door. “Is the birthday girl awake yet?” It was my mom. “Come on, Ellie! Get up!”

I headed to the bathroom to shower, straightened the obnoxious waves in my hair with the flatiron, and tugged on
fresh jeans and a T-shirt. I hopped downstairs to meet my mom in the kitchen.

“I made you pancakes, since it's your birthday,” Mom said cheerfully, and smiling brightly, she presented a platter stacked high. “I know you didn't eat the ones I made you yesterday, so I hope you're feeling well enough to appreciate them more this morning.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, sitting down at the counter to eat.

“Happy birthday, honey.” She kissed the top of my head. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Where's Dad?”

Her smile vanished. “He had to leave early. He's got a meeting in Lansing. He told me to tell you happy birthday and that he loves you.”

I forced a smile, pretty certain that she had made the last part up. More likely he had just left for his meeting without saying a thing.

Mom's face brightened. “So I thought we would go get your present after school. I know today is going to be very difficult with everything that happened yesterday, but hopefully this will make today a little less awful. Sound good?”

My heart lifted. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then. I'm going to get some work done before we take off for school.” She turned to go back to her office. “Make sure you eat. We'll go by the dealership after school and see what they have.”

Awesome. “Hey, Mom?”

She turned back around. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Did you hear anything last night?” I wasn't sure what I expected her to answer with.

She frowned. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry your father and I were arguing. I'm so sorry you heard that.”

“I mean like growling, like a huge dog or a bear.”

Mom gave me an odd look, gauging what I had just said. Heat rushed into my cheeks as I realized how stupid I'd just sounded. “It wasn't another nightmare?”

“No, I was awake.”

She sighed and her lips tightened. “Maybe it was a couple of dogs outside fighting? I didn't hear anything. You wouldn't hear strange noises if you shut your window at night.”

“I guess you're right.” The consensus was official: It was just a dream and I was a lunatic.

 

As soon as I got to my locker, I was greeted by Landon, who carried a vase of roses. My jaw dropped to the floor.

“Are you serious?” I asked, my gaze spilling over the lush bouquet.

“Happy birthday, Ellie.” He kissed my cheek. Any second I would implode from the sweetness.

He handed me the vase. “I don't want your birthday to suck, even though it's a sad day and all. I hope this makes it better.”

I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders and hugged
him. “Thank you so much, Landon! You are too good to me. This will definitely make my day rock.”

His smile widened. “I have to run to class, but I'm really glad you're happy. See you later.”

“Bye!” I had to remove a pile of old papers from the bottom of my locker to safely make room for the vase. I'd known Landon for a long time, but he had never given me flowers before. What a doll. I was practically dancing on my way to homeroom.

Classes went just as I'd predicted they would. During morning announcements the principal gave a long speech about Mr. Meyer over the intercom, and then my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Wright, gave another. The first four periods of the day were very much the same. Teachers said their bit, did very little lecturing, and gave no homework. My math test had been postponed until the following Monday, which was fine with me since I had no desire to take a test on my birthday. During third-period shop class, which I swear I was taking only to boost my GPA, we did nothing but sit at our tables and discuss the sanding projects for the following week. I assumed getting mushy would be too much for poor Mr. Gray to handle. Even an idiot could see how loved Mr. Meyer had been. When lunchtime came around, I met up with my friends. We all made an effort to have a decently normal lunch.

Kate, Landon, and I sat in our usual place in the right-hand corner by the windows looking out into the courtyard.
Evan, Rachel, and Chris joined us, and to my surprise and happiness, everyone avoided the subject of Mr. Meyer's murder. When I finished my lunch, I headed to the bathroom for a quick break.

As I washed my hands in the sink, something made me stop and take a second look in the mirror. My throat squeezed with fear as I stared at the right side of my face. Black things—spidery, threadlike lines—were creeping from my scalp and across my cheek and around my right eye, interlacing with one another. Fear spun into revulsion as I rubbed my cheek hard, trying to smear the blackness away. The lines kept coming, getting longer and covering more and more of my face. I rubbed, but I couldn't feel them on my skin. Were they
in
my skin?

Half crying, half scared out of my mind, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them under the running water. I rubbed my face vigorously with the wet towels, but when I lowered them, the lines were still there and my eyes had turned solid white like cue balls. I dropped the towels and backed away from the mirror until my back hit the solid frame of the toilet stalls. I covered my face with both of my hands, my fingers weaving through my hair, pulling it in desperation.

When I looked back up, I saw nothing on my face in the mirror but the streaks of tears. No black things. No darkness. They were gone. My eyes were normal again.

I splashed my face with cold water to dull the redness
there and took several long, slow breaths to steady my nerves. When I felt confident enough to return to the cafeteria, I burst through the bathroom door, determined to forget what had just happened to me. As I rounded the corner, I turned right into Will.

“Oh, God!” I cried out, fighting the urge to smack him. “You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing at my school? I thought you didn't go here.” I nervously tugged my bag higher on my shoulder and took a deep breath. That was when I noticed that the black, spiraling tattoos all up and down his muscled arm were plainly visible—the exact same tattoos he'd worn in my dream. I stared at the strange symbols, and the winding blackness reminded me of the blackness spreading on my face moments before. But this was different. His tattoos were beautiful, frighteningly so, and unearthly. They wound and danced across his skin as if they were proud and defiant. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

He ignored my question. “Are you all right?”

Had he heard my crying? How did he know? Wresting my gaze away from his tattoos, I dismissed my thoughts and sternly asserted, “I'm fine.”

“I need to talk to you.” He wasn't smiling. In fact he didn't look cheerful at all, and his questioning gaze fell on my still-red cheek. I self-consciously covered it with my palm.

“About what? I have to get back to lunch.” I started to
walk around him, but he sidestepped in front of me, blocking my path. After what had just happened in the bathroom, I was not in the mood to deal with any more craziness.

“We need to talk about last night.”

My stomach clenched, and the fear I had felt moments before came raging back into my body. “I don't know what you're talking about. I was home last night. There's nothing we need to—”

“Don't you remember?” He leaned into me, his green eyes wide and tearing into my hazel ones. He was so close that he was all I could feel, see, and smell. My senses were drowning in him.

“Remember what?” It was just a dream—it
had
to be. What happened could
not
have been real. I'd imagined it, just like I'd imagined the black spiderwebs on my face.

He took my arm and pulled me gently against the lockers when a couple students walked by. “The reaper? The one you killed?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

“The
what
? What the hell are you on, Will?” I tried to pull myself away, but he held me tighter. “Look, I'm not into that stuff, whatever it is, so—”

“Enough of this,” he growled, leaning closer to me. “You need to accept what happened last night and what you are, no matter how much you don't want to. Pretending that it was just a dream or that I'm insane isn't going to help you. It'll only make things worse.”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” I snarled through
gritted teeth. I was desperate to keep my anger from causing more tears.

Will took a breath and spoke his next words slowly. “Look, I feel awful and I don't want to scare you—”

“Well, you're doing a damn good job of it!”

“Just listen to me for a minute and I'll leave. Okay?”

I studied his face. He was really serious about this. I might as well humor him. “Fine.”

He took another deep breath. He spoke slowly, but with an intensity that frightened me even more. “What you saw—what you
fought
—last night was a reaper. Forget the scythe-wielding skeletons in long robes. This is real. Most don't need scythes, because they have teeth and claws for weapons. They
eat
you. They eat your flesh and your blood, and then they drag your soul to Hell. Your teacher, Frank Meyer, was killed and eaten by the same one you killed last night. You are the Preliator, the only mortal in the world with the power to fight them. And I am your Guardian, your bodyguard, sworn to protect and defend you. And
you
are making my job
excruciatingly
difficult.”

I stared at him for a few moments, unable to decide how to respond. I settled for the easy thing. “You're completely out of your mind.”

“Damn it!” Will threw his hands up. “This is ridiculous. I don't understand why you don't remember. I triggered your power last night. You woke and entered the Grim on your own and killed the reaper. Why don't you remember now?”
He stepped away from me and clamped his hand over the top of his head. His voice was rapid and worried. “Maybe because it's been so long. Before, it was always only eighteen years between cycles. Your soul has been asleep too long.”

I backed away, my hand crawling along the wall, unable to make sense of anything he said. Then I noticed the metal chain around his neck, tucked into his shirt. An image flashed across my mind of something gleaming, dangling—a plus sign. It was like déjà vu, a memory I didn't remember ever having, if that made any sense at all.

“And if you're wondering where your hoodie went, check your wastebasket. Sorry it was ruined.”

“Ruined?”

“Is there a problem, Miss Monroe?”

I turned around to see one of the assistant principals, Mr. Abbot, standing behind me, looking from me to Will.

“Who is this young man?” Mr. Abbot asked, clearly seeing that Will was not a high school student. His accusing gaze lingered on the tattoos covering Will's arm. To him, the tattoos must have been a sure sign of delinquency.

“A friend,” Will said. “I stopped by to bring some of Ellie's homework she had forgotten at my house.”

Mr. Abbot looked questioningly at me. “Is this true?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. It's okay.” I didn't know why I was covering for him. Maybe his craziness had rubbed off on me like a bad cold, or something worse.

He turned to Will. “Young man, I'm going to have to ask
you to leave campus. You've done Ellie a good service by bringing her homework. However, as you are not a student and have not signed for a visitor's pass, you'll need to be on your way.”

Will nodded. “That's fine. I'll say my good-byes and go.” He stared intently at Mr. Abbot, refusing to budge. Strangely, my assistant principal made a peculiar face before he turned and left. “Ellie, will you talk to me after school?” Will asked me.

“No way,” I said, turning my back to him.

He stepped around me so that we were face-to-face. “If you don't, then you won't know how to call your swords and you won't be able to defend yourself.”

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as his eyes bored into mine, locking our gazes, his voice low and downright invasive. “Was that a threat?” I asked cautiously.

His expression gave nothing away. “They'll come for you.”

That shiver turned into a brutal stab of fear straight into my gut. My pulse quickened and I pursed my lips together when I felt heat rushing into my face.

“Now that I've woken your powers, you're fair game to the reapers. You're at your most vulnerable, and this is when they'll strike.”

I took a deep breath. “If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to scream for security and they're going to call the cops.”

He watched me for a few moments. His jaw was clenched
tightly and he sucked in his upper lip in frustration. “It takes a while for your memory to return sometimes, but it's never been this bad before. I know you're having the nightmares. You've always had them when you're ready to face who you are. Of course, the last time I saw you—the
real
you—well, that was more than forty years ago. You were gone for twenty-eight years.”

My throat tightened.

He flashed me that astonishing smile, only this time it held something different, something secretive. “Happy birthday, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't say that last night, but I have a gift for you. You passed out before I could give it to you.”