Dark Hope (22 page)

The sameness of the buildings here gave away their origin as mill town row houses. But as the neighborhood had gentrified, residents had tried to put their own individual stamp on things. Here and there, crazy artistry burst forth: sculptures forged from odds and ends that others would call junk, funky kaleidoscopes, aggressive murals that dared you to look again, gardens crisscrossed by fountains and arches and pathways that tumbled into the yards of neighbors who always seemed so close.

It would be hard to hide a secret in a neighborhood like this, I thought, with everyone on top of one another.

I shivered as a gust of wind tore through the deserted street, and I pulled my fleece closer. As I passed under a lonely streetlight, I
caught a glimpse of my shadow, misshapen and lumpy from all of the things I carried with me. Unsettled, I walked faster, straining to find a building that did not look like a house or anything that looked like the aftermath of a storm.

I turned a corner, and suddenly the mill emerged, lurking beyond the row of homes. I ran toward it. As I drew closer to the dark shape, I began to make out its outline. It was not a monolithic building but a compound of sorts, bookended by two large brick structures. Fences surrounded it, gating in the buildings to protect the fancy condos that had claimed them.

My heart fell. I leaned against the fence, twining my fingers through the chain link and shaking it in frustration. This couldn’t be the place. The parking lot was lushly landscaped and full of fancy cars. A pool, closed for the winter, radiated a turquoise blue. Here and there, in the dark expanses of brick, lonely lights twinkled in windows.

She’d said it was in ruins. Where else could they be?

But then, in the shadows of one of the factories, something caught my eye. A two-story warehouse or machine shed—one of the few mill buildings that had not been converted into condos—rose ahead of me, its entire roof collapsed in on one side. Even in the dark, I could see the rusted hulk of machinery inside of it. I heard the sounds of an express train rolling through town behind the factory and knew Maria and her sister had to be inside.

I rattled the chain-link fence. How to get inside? I had no better idea than to walk the length of it, hoping for a break big enough for me to slide through. Instead, I found a back entrance that someone had left open, allowing me to walk right through.

I moved in closer to the abandoned building. Supporting arches made of concrete stood skeletal in the night, leading to what seemed like the old entrance. Above me I saw grimy windows with
cracked panes, but they were too high up to allow anyone to get in, let alone for someone with broken bones to get out. With the beam of the flashlight as my guide, I picked my way around broken glass, pieces of brick, and empty cans until I found two big doors. The handles were draped in chains, the padlock binding them conspicuously dangling open. A huge sign leaned up against the outer wall, screaming “Danger” in neon orange.

No kidding
, I thought to myself. Moving silently, I pushed the door handle and let it swing open.

The beam of my flashlight caught dust motes as I walked in. It was like a cavern inside. Naked, rusting bolts studded the steel walls, and row upon row of abandoned machines strung together with cables and wire stood silent guard. The floor beneath me creaked as I stepped forward, turning in circles to scan the entire room.

“Maria?” I whispered. “Are you here?”

My question echoed back to me. Nothing.

Cautiously, I moved forward. A heavy rubber curtain—the kind that, as a child, seemed to smother our windshield and bury us in soap when we went through the car wash—covered the entrance to another part of the building. Grease and dust coated the rubber. Setting aside my squeamishness, I pushed through its fringe and stepped into the next room.

I was at the bottom of a decrepit metal staircase, a large expanse of open space dropping away and up from its rail. The building had a basement, something I hadn’t noticed on my walk, but it was so dark and deep I couldn’t see what was in it. I shone the flashlight down. The steps to the basement all seemed intact, though the metal was red and pockmarked, eroded from neglect and the elements, making it seem as delicate as lace. Gripping the rusty rail, I started my descent. The air in this part of the building was
colder, and it had a funny smell I couldn’t quite place, the tang of iron and something else.

I looked up and saw the gaping hole in the roof through which the stars winked.

“Maria?” The darkness seemed to swallow my voice as I called out her name once again.

Clinging to the rough, cold steel, I felt my way past a slick patch where the rain had hit the stairs until I was on a stable—albeit earthen—floor. From this vantage point, I could just make out the large bins that loomed in the dark, bins which could have held water, or grain, or gas.

I caught a whiff of the strange smell in the air and recognition flooded through me.

Sulfur.

“Maria!” I shouted her name, now, more afraid of being killed in a gas-leak fueled explosion than being caught by a bunch of criminals.

“You have to come out now. It’s me, Hope.” I ran through the basement, swinging my flashlight in hopes of finding her hidden in the corners as I ran through the basement. “It’s not safe here, Maria. We need to move, now.”

I heard a soft flutter behind me and wheeled around. “Maria?”

The darkness began to shift as the flutter grew more insistent, the lightless space where it came from growing and stretching into a mass that seemed to breathe with life. The flutter turned into a roar and the dark cloud came rushing at me until I found myself absorbed, battered by wings and claws that pummeled me into the unforgiving ground. Every time I tried to move, the cloud whirled and turned, the birds that comprised it moving together with one mind, barreling against me and pinning me down. I huddled on
the dirt floor, covering my ears against the shrieking and rushing of wind.

Eventually, I realized that the blackness had subsided. The only sound was my own screaming. I stopped, gasping for breath, afraid to lift my head.

“She’s not here, Hope.”

The voice gripped my heart in its icy fist, striking new fear in me. I had lost my flashlight, but I didn’t need it to know that it was Lucas who stood in the shadows.

I heard his step echo as he moved closer toward me, and then I heard a soft skidding sound. My flashlight rolled gently toward me, coming to a stop as it bumped against my fist. I grasped it, raising my head and scuttling back as I shone the beam wildly into the night. Lucas stepped into the ray, his eyes glittering with an emotion I didn’t recognize.

“You don’t seem happy to see me, Hope,” he continued, smiling a taut, brittle smile. He was no longer in his customary letter jacket. Instead, he’d wrapped his body in a dark leather jacket and denim that showed his every muscle, making me realize how small I was in comparison.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimpering squeak. He laughed, taking one step closer to me.

“No,” I managed to splutter, trying to keep the distance between us. I found myself backed into a wall stacked full of baskets which teetered and fell about me.

Determined that he would not make me feel helpless, I glanced around for anything, anything at all that I could use as a weapon, settling for an old wooden broom. I turned it around and wielded it in front of me like a pike.

“That’s no way to greet a friend,” Lucas purred with his oily voice,
obviously amused, and a wave of revulsion rippled through my body. “I just hope that you can be more gracious with my colleagues.”

The shadows, which had retreated to the back of the basement, stirred again. I strained my eyes, and then, one by one, I began to pick out the hulking figures. Some of them I recognized as Lucas’s regular posse of high school friends. Others had eyes that had haunted me in my dreams—my nightmares that, I could now see, had been but premonitions of what was to come.

“What have you done with Maria?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Maria?” He sneered. “Who knows what happened to your precious Maria? She was just a useful tool in our little game.”

“Game?” I echoed, confused.

Lucas chuckled. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand what this is all about?” He clucked maternally, mocking me. “Poor Hope. Left in the dark, so innocent. Well, let me be the one to enlighten you. It’s not Maria we want. It’s you.”

My mind reeled.

“But Maria,” I protested, weakly, the pit of dread growing larger in my stomach. “She called me. She said she needed help.”

Lucas’s face contorted with disgust. “You humans—your minds are so weak. You fail to recognize the truth, even when it is standing before you! Here’s your Maria,” he spat.

His body quivered and melted, his features twisting and his body shrinking to that of a tiny, terrified Mexican girl.

“Hope, I need your help,” Lucas whimpered in Maria’s voice, sounding exactly like the voice on the phone.

“No,” I protested weakly in denial. “No!”

The fear was too much for me. I sank forward on my knees once more, my stomach heaving. Wave after wave of nausea swept through me. I struggled to catch my breath, only to gag on my bile
until finally, there was nothing left. I shivered in the dark, filthy from dirt and vomit, waiting.

I stared into the dirt and noticed, for the first time, the carpet of black feathers scattered all about me. How could I have been so blind? I cursed my naïveté, my refusal to see the signs. My mind raced, trying to find a way out. I was here, by myself, with no one aware that I was even missing. My mother wasn’t due home for days. I was surrounded. Trapped. And not just by thugs—I realized—but by Fallen Ones. By the time anyone missed me, it would be too late.

Michael!
I clung to the idea of him like a life raft, but no sooner had it entered my mind than I rejected it. He didn’t know where I was either, and as much as he felt obligated to protect me, his powers did not extend to knowing where I was.

No, I was going to have to get myself out of this one on my own.

I braced my body and struggled to my feet. Lucas had morphed back into his own body, only now a majestic pair of jet-colored wings stretched out behind his bare torso. Even in the half-light of the abandoned building, I could see the edge of each feather, sharply etched as if chiseled into stone or steel. His muscles rippled, and the wings seemed to pulse with threatening energy. A gust of air, stirred by their great expanse, wafted toward me, and on it I smelled the telltale scent of sulfur.

I dragged my sleeve across my face, wiping the last of the vomit from my chin. I swallowed hard, my throat raw. The pain sharpened my focus. I drew my breath and spoke, my chin raising defiantly as I glowered at Lucas.

“You’ve been following me this whole time,” I said.

Lucas shrugged, his wings beating once more. “It was entertaining enough, taunting Michael that way.”

He eyed me with amusement as he began to circle. Behind his wings, his mob of shadows leered.

He continued talking as he paced. “Michael didn’t tell you about us, did he? Didn’t tell you we were Fallen Ones? But he knew we were stalking you. Isn’t that odd, Hope? That he would keep that little detail to himself?”

I didn’t answer, but he saw something in my eyes that prompted him to continue.

“Did he tell you he might be endangering you by paying you all that attention? Did you mention to him that birds had attacked you? Did you show him the feather you found, Hope, or tell him about the funny smell of the lightning that night on the mountain? He knows what those signs mean.”

He was enjoying himself now, enjoying the drama of the moment, enjoying the fact that I had no choice but to give him the audience he craved. I willed myself to be still, willed my ears to close to the poison he was spewing. But still he came, winding closer and closer, until I could feel his hot breath on my face.

“You did tell him, didn’t you, Hope? But Michael never told you the truth in return, did he? Does it hurt, Hope, knowing that the one you trusted was willing to put you at such risk?” He stopped circling then, inches from my face. His black wings blotted out everything else as he raised them up as if to shelter us. His eyes were greedy as he reached out with one hot hand, dragging his fingertips across my cheek in a mockery of a caress.

“Get your hands off of her.”

The voice boomed and echoed in the dark, bouncing off the abandoned machines and lonely walls, magnifying its rage.

“Ah, Michael.” Lucas’s face broke into a radiant smile, and the dark shadows surrounding us seemed to pulse with energy. Lucas
released my face with a flourish, spinning away to face the voice. “Are your ears burning? We were just talking about you.”

Michael stepped from the shadows. His wings were unfurled, great shimmering white things that looked invitingly soft until, giving full expression to Michael’s fury, they seemed to stretch to an even greater expanse. With a forceful pulse, they sliced the air. A maelstrom of wind whipped around me.

I let my eyes roam over the rest of him. His naked torso seemed to glow with a light that emanated from within. Every muscle seemed chiseled out of stone, taut and ready for a fight. I dragged my eyes from his broad shoulders—which showed no strain from carrying the burden of wings—to the spot where his carved abdomen disappeared inside low-slung jeans.

Weak-kneed, I dragged my eyes away to meet Michael’s gaze. There, the rage I saw for Lucas melted into a look of fear and concern.

Lucas continued on, as if Michael’s interruption was nothing more than an intermission to his carefully planned show. “The whole situation seemed strange to me, I must say. Was Michael—the vaunted Michael, Leader of the Host—falling for this mousy thing?” He gestured to me halfheartedly.

“You go too far, Lucas,” Michael threatened, taking one step closer.

Lucas ignored him, circling once more so that I found myself trapped between the two angels.

“You always were a lover of humanity,” Lucas taunted, spitting the word “humanity” as if it were a vile curse. “First to bow before Adam. The only one of us who clung to him after he was exiled from Paradise. Instead of despising it, you embraced God’s mistake, set it on a pedestal, worshipped it!”