Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (12 page)

“I’m not always an angel, ya know,” he said, still laughing.

“I
know
!”

It started as a twitch at the corners of my mouth. Then my lips turned up and before I knew it, I was doubled over with silly, goofy, side-splitting laughter. It was moments like these, the friendly teasing and the laughter it evoked, that had made Guy’s absence so hard on me. Of course, I missed the kisses and warm embraces, the quiet moments. But the thing I missed most was the way we were with each other. We were loving without always being lovey-dovey. We had a comfort between us that reminded me of my grandparents. I know, normally that would seem like a bad thing, yet for me it was wonderful.

“I missed you so much,” I said as the laughter diminished.

A wrinkle appeared in his brow as his expression turned serious. “I counted the days until I could get back to you. It was as hard on me as it was on you.” His dreamy eyes twitched and I could actually feel his pain.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I said, remembering how injured he was when he limped out of my life.

“It was hard being away. It was good having Rocky there with me every day.”

I flinched visibly at the mention of the beautiful angel he’d been betrothed to, sitting bedside. I knew there was nothing more between them, yet I struggled to hold the smile on my face.

“She talked about nothing but you,” he added. I didn’t know if he’d said it because he sensed the change in me, or because it was true. Either way, it did nothing to remove the cloud that had settled over my mood.

“Oh?”

“She didn’t think much of mortals before she met you.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he said. “I know you didn’t have to. I’m glad you believed I’d return.”

There was a break in the cloud. “What about Roxanne? She took the brunt of Beelzebub’s attack to make sure
The Book of Calls
was destroyed. He not only wounded her, but also he disfigured her.”

“She’s fine. Back to her old self, looks and all.” He pulled me in closer. “She knew that my motivation to recuperate was to get back here to you. She said we made a lovely couple.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No. I’ve learned my lesson. Those were her exact words.”

Knowing I’d won Roxanne’s blessing made my heart sing.

“You guys okay in there?” called Suze, thinking we were being too quiet. In the past, I’d have been annoyed that she was monitoring Guy’s visit as if I were a little kid, but that night she could do nothing to spoil my mood. For one evening, all was right with the world. I was going to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.

*

The statistics exam on Friday was a piece of cake. My great retention skills made the Q&A portion of the exam a breeze. The last part was an essay. My writing skills are as good as my retention skills. I aced the exam.

I was the first to finish. I handed in my paper and waited in my seat, tingling with excitement, until the end of the period. I was dying to tell Tran and Jenny my good news—that I was once again in the race for junior class president.

The bell rang and I moved up to where they were seated near the front of the room. “Hey, guys, what’d you think of that?”

“I was hoping it’d be harder,” said Jenny. She had changed her hair from bangs to being parted at the side. The style was cute on her.

“I’m glad statistics is easy. It allows me more time for things that are important,” said Tran. He shot a quick glance at Jenny and then back at me.

“I wanted to be the first to tell you my good news,” I said.

Jenny stopped packing her books, distress lines creasing her brow. “Don’t tell me you got into Harvard?”

“What? Jenny, we don’t apply for colleges until next year.”

“Oh, right,” she said with a smug smile. “So what’s the news?” Her face relaxed. She went back to packing up her things.

“I’ve decided to run for junior class president.”

This was Tran’s cue to stop packing. “What about your mother?”

I forgot I had told them she was the reason I wasn’t running. “Umm… I convinced her.”

“Did you choose a campaign manager yet?” Lines of stress were now on Tran’s
brow.

“Umm. No. I haven’t even thought about it.”

“That’s why you need me, Barnett.” He was suddenly animated. “I’ve been thinking about your campaign ever since you first announced.”

“Tell me about it,” said Jenny, rolling her eyes.

“I know you’d like to choose Maudrina, but this is business, Barnett. No time to be sentimental. You need someone like me. A killer.”

I swallowed back a laugh. Tran was far from a killer. Both he and Jenny were staring at me, waiting for me to respond.

“Umm. That sounds like a good idea.”

“Yes!” he cried pumping his fist. “We’re late.”

“Second bell isn’t for several minutes.”

“Not for class, for
votes
! We should’ve scheduled your first pep rally days ago. Not to worry. I’ll get right on it.”

He started jabbering away about campaign slogans and posters and ‘get out the vote’ cards. As he spoke, I glanced at Jenny whose eyes were moving between Tran and me. As much as she tried to conceal her feelings behind a smile, lines of anxiety crinkled the corners of her eyes, and I realized the reason for the attitude I’d been getting from her lately.
I
had become the other woman.

*

I skated through the rest of my day. I couldn’t avoid the harsh looks from Ashley Scott and the rest of the Poplarati, but by carefully orchestrating my arrival and departure from class, I was able to avoid a full-on confrontation.

Guy insisted on picking me up after school and driving Aunt Jaz and me to Monsieur Perez’s. He dropped us off on the corner. We didn’t want Guy’s presence to trigger any consternation in Monsieur Perez. We walked the rest of the way. We walked slowly. Although it was less than a block, Aunt Jaz showed signs of fatigue.

It was an old house in an even older East Phoenix neighborhood. An ancient Nisan Maxima sat in the driveway. I recalled being in Monsieur Perez’s car the night he’d driven me to Tavares castle. Although the car was old, it gleamed like highly polished silver in the sunlight. It had been treated with love. I smiled inwardly as we moved up the gravel path to the house. Monsieur Perez appreciated vintage things just as much as Aunt Jaz. Perhaps this was part of their initial attraction.

Seeing the car brought back memories of the hot summer night we retrieved Erin from the grip of Danny Tambor and the Satanists. No smile crossed my lips when I thought of what we’d accomplished that night. It was also the night I unleashed my powers onto the world, the night I reached the so-called tipping point.

Monsieur Perez came to the door wearing a white cotton shirt, brown tweed slacks, and a maroon bow tie that brought to mind a gentleman of a bygone era. He and Aunt Jaz could have made quite the pair in their vintage clothing choices.

“You look lovely, Jasmine,” Monsieur Perez said in his sexy, mellifluous voice. His attempt at friendliness seemed to have no effect on Aunt Jaz, who was all business in a charcoal suit with a skirt falling just below her knees and a mint green top. No hug, no laughter, no peck on the cheek for Monsieur Perez.

“Thank you, Hector,” she said in flat tone as he ushered us in.

His eyes moved to me. They were glowing with pride. “Megan Barnett. You have single-handedly set the occult community on its ear, young lady. It’s good to see you again.” His smile was warm, yet I couldn’t help but feel creepy all over, as if bugs were crawling up and down my back.

“Hi,” I said, trying not to let my feelings show.

The house was small but cozy. A tiny alcove opened into a quaint living room where a ceiling fan circled slowly overhead, keeping the tiny room from getting too stuffy in the Arizona heat.

“Gita, bring the tea,” Monsieur Perez called in a haughty tone. “Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward the old sofa. “We’ll have tea and biscuits.” He was smiling at Aunt Jaz. She pretended not to notice. “Nothing as elaborate as your pineapple upside-down cake, I’m afraid, Jasmine dear. But it will do.”

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” Like a fish who’d gorged herself on grubs all day, Aunt Jaz refused to rise to his charming bait.

“But of course. Anything for you, Jasmine.” He was looking at her like a little puppy dog craving his master’s attention. I was starting to feel sorry for the old guy.

“Good,” she said. “If we could dispense with the pleasantries, you know why we’re here.” It was so unlike Aunt Jaz to not be sweet and cordial. Their breakup obviously had been quite hard on her. She refused to allow even a ray of kindness to crack her leaden exterior.

“Yes, of course.” Monsieur Perez moved across the room and plucked an envelope from the mantel. “I have no idea what Dagenhart is up to, so I can’t help along those lines.” His eyes moved to me. “However, the conclave is being held at Dagenhart castle, formerly Tavares castle, Saturday evening, just before sundown. This will get you in.” He held the envelope by the corner and fanned it through the air like a Polaroid picture.

The tea kettle in the kitchen began to whistle.

“There’s no way I’d allow Megan to return to that hellish place,” said Aunt Jaz. She waved her hand at him, a dismissive gesture.

“Then who?” He was smiling. It was the smile of a poker player laying down a winning hand. “The only way you’ll know what they’re up to for sure is if someone attends. You can’t go, you might be recognized. You wouldn’t send your
precious
niece.” He lay on the word
precious,
making it clear what he thought of Maudrina. “If the angel goes, he will certainly set off all kinds of alarms. I’m sure Dagenhart has cloaked the castle with a shield of formidable dark magic.” His gaze moved back to me. “Only you, Megan. You are more powerful than they are. They need to know this,” he said, his voice rising. “They need to fear your power. The world needs to know it was you who performed miracles at that travesty of a wedding.”

“Stop it!” Aunt Jaz said, rising to her feet. “Hector, you’re a fool.”

The tea kettle continued to whistle. “Gita! The kettle!” Monsieur Perez called.

“I suppose when they discover Megan is at the conclave—and I’m sure they’ll discover her—she’ll have to use her abilities to get out.” Aunt Jaz’s eyes were blazing.

“Would that be so bad? The Satanists need to know we have a powerful weapon against them.”

Aunt Jaz smirked. “Don’t you mean
you
have a powerful weapon against them? I’m sure you’ll have enough spotters there to vindicate yourself.” Aunt Jaz’s words were a furious assault.

“I should be the one to lead our community. You know that, Jasmine.” His furry eyebrows twitched with rage.

This was yet another play for power. Monsieur Perez had tried to use me to gain control of the local occult community at Erin’s wedding last summer. But his plan backfired when no one believed I was the cause of the monstrous indoor storm.

“They need to know about you,” he said, his eyes entreating me. “You can still be the darling of the occult community.” He took a step toward me and I flinched. He really was creeping me out.

“Megan, let’s go,” said, Aunt Jaz. “I was wrong to come here.” Without waiting for my response, she started for the door.

“Jasmine, please!” Monsieur Perez called. His mellifluous voice had turned whiny and pathetic. She brushed past him on her way out. “I miss you,” he called, inhaling her fragrance as she went by. “Don’t you miss me?”

Aunt Jaz stopped abruptly. She turned. Hope blossomed on Monsieur Perez’s face, thinking his words had chinked her armor.

“Something’s wrong,” she said in a dark tone. Caution showed in her eyes as she surveyed the room. “I can feel it.” We both looked at her. I could feel it, too. There was eeriness in the air accented by the whooshing of the ceiling fan along with the whistling of the tea kettle in the kitchen.

As if we were starring in a cheesy horror flick, our eyes all moved in the direction of the kitchen. The whistling pierced the silence. It was high-pitched and insistent.

“Gita?” Monsieur Perez said softly, his eyes widening. “GITA!” he screamed. It was an ominous sound. He dropped the envelope. It fluttered to the floor as he dashed from the room and down the corridor.

“Do not follow!” Aunt Jaz commanded, holding one finger in the air, her eyes blazing at me. “If you don’t hear me call out to you in sixty seconds, run and bring the police!”

“But—”

“Now is not the time for questions, deary. Now is the time to obey without hesitation.” With those words and a last cautionary glance, Aunt Jaz hustled down the hall after Monsieur Perez.

The sign above the door read
The
Knights of Columbus
. It was an appropriate front for the small meeting hall where the good-magic members of the local occult community held their secret meetings.
The Knights of Columbus
is a religious fraternal organization named for Christopher Columbus—another juicy piece of the trivia I couldn’t get enough of. I figured if I could focus on all the trivia I could remember about
The Knights of Columbus
, I could trick my mind into not focusing on why we were really there.

After the incident with Gita, Monsieur Perez arranged for us to meet at the Knights’ meeting hall, as our number had grown too large to fit comfortably into Aunt Jaz’s apartment. There were seven of us now. Lucky number seven. Right?

Aunt Jaz and I arrived along with Guy, who’d gotten word to Harrison and Orthon about the meeting. Monsieur Perez was already there, opening windows to air out the room, when we arrived. The ominous
K of C
shield hung on the wall just below the clock. It was like something out of the Knights of the Round Table. I wondered if
KFC
had taken their name from
K of C
. Wouldn’t that make a neat piece of trivia? I’d have to look it up.

It was a small room, dominated by a long conference table with high-back chairs and dusty water glasses. I wondered what they talked about here. Me? It seemed trivia alone couldn’t keep my mind from drifting to the matter at hand.