Heaven and Hell (Beautiful Beings, #2) (2 page)

I hurried to my bed and reached for the crucifix on my nightstand just as another creature emerged from the shadows.  Smaller and more delicate than the first, it had a vague feminine quality.

How many more were lurking in the corners of my room?  How many had infiltrated the house, perhaps even my parents’ room?

The pair united and stepped forward, staying close to one another.  Far from the usual demons I’d grown accustomed to fighting, they seemed reluctant, almost timid. Sadness enveloped them and while the scent of death was strong, there was no true aura of evil emanating from them.

Their energy was lost, in limbo, neither evil nor angelic.

As they fully entered the ray of moonlight I saw their faces, what was left of them.  I could now make out just how charred their skin was.  They had no hair, nor clothing.  Their noses were burned off and their hands were fingerless nubs.  The eyes that stared hopefully at me were small and narrow, the skin around them tight, barely affording them the ability to blink.

The frailer feminine form had a forlorn expression and my heart went out to it.

Despite their gentle approach, I held up my crucifix as they stepped closer. Remembering the dream, remembering the consequences of trusting too much, I prepared for battle, no matter how frail and woeful they appeared.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said, my voice calm and firm.  “Leave.”

“We heive not come for battle and will leave peacefully,” the taller one said.  “But first hear our plea.”

Plea?  No demon had ever tried to bargain with me before.

“Please don’t slay our son,” the smaller one said with a decidedly feminine voice.

Moore, I thought, and my heart instantly winced.

“He’s fighting with all he has.  He fights constantly against the pull of darkness.  Don’t give up on him.  Don’t let him slip away,” his mom begged.

“We failed,” his father admitted as he put his arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders.  “We weren’t strong enough.  We had no idea what we were up against and we failed… miserably.”

I looked at them, standing together.  Her arm had wrapped around his waist and she was holding him tight.  Moore’s parents had supposedly been killed, that’s what everyone had been told, but they had succumbed to the demon inside them. They’d gone to the other side, consumed until there remained no spark of humanity in them; except this hope to save their son from the same fate.

They had not mentioned Shayne and I wondered if they already considered her a lost cause.  Had they already abandoned her?

“Mr. and Mrs. Hatchett, I can’t promise to…”

“No,” the woman said.  “We’re not the Hatchetts.”

Stunned, I stared at her.

“We’re Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley.”

Chapter 2

T
he narrow halls of St. James Academy had grown incredibly dim in the absence of Braxton and Asher.  I no longer had an ally, no one to laugh with.  I put on a brave face, ignoring the pity-filled glances of many and the occasional spiteful smirk.

Passing Braxton’s locker was a daily ritual, whether I had needed to pass by it or not.  Instinctively, my hand went out to it as it had every day for over a month.  I wanted to feel his energy, to find the faint scent of him that still lingered.  It was almost gone, probably just a fragment of my imagination.

A month, I thought as I stared at his locker. It seemed my life had come to a sudden stop on that night.

The demons had even grown quiet; whether out of fear or with the plot to cause greater havoc, I didn’t yet know.

My fingers brushed over the combination lock that kept Braxton’s things imprisoned.  No one had bothered to clear it.  He’d not even come back to get anything, not even the Lacrosse shirt that I knew was still inside.

What other secrets lied inside, I wondered.

As I stood there, lost in my reverie, the occasional shoulder brushed along my back as students hurried by on their way to their classes, their purpose clear and strong with every stride, the importance of this education fierce. 

And here I was just barely getting by.  Braxton had been instrumental in getting my average up and now each class was a struggle.

I leaned my forehead to his locker and closed my eyes. The image of him quickly came to me; that first day, that brief glance; he, dressed for Lacrosse, and I in the backseat of my parents’ car.

Our connection had been built in that very moment and I knew it was still strong.  Even if he was clear across the Atlantic in England while I remained here to put all the pieces together, I felt that connection

Inhaling, his scent came to me, so sweet and so tantalizing.  So real.  So confusing.

Lothario had told me to look for others, others like me.  He’d told me to find my guardian.  I thought I had, but now?

The haunting dream I’d had the night before came to me, the feelings I’d felt for that boy, that strange and mysterious boy, were so real, my heart tightened at the thought of him. The chase and the need to catch him.  The embrace and the desire to touch him.

My soul.

His words of warning sounded in my ear.  I shouldn’t have trusted.  I should have slain.  My soul was at stake.

And my heart was in the way.  Even now I could feel the love for that boy, and the need to save him.

I just had to figure out who it was I had to save; Braxton or Moore.

Reluctantly, I left the locker, my focus on seeing Ms. Bright.  Perhaps she could help me.  Surely she had the means to get in touch with Brax.  Turning into the crowd of students, I walked against the flow to the principal’s office. Through the throngs of beautiful flowing hair, bright white smiles and perfect features, I saw two dark shadows at the other end of the hall.  My hand went to my crucifix, my focus redirected to the odd pair.

Amidst pristine uniforms and youthful beauty, the couple was sorely out of place, yet the beautiful youths passed them by, oblivious of their presence.

The parents, I thought.

In my great absorption of Braxton’s absence and the troubling nightmare, I’d set aside the late night visit.

My stride was strong and determined as I closed in on them.  I anticipated a complicated chase or fierce battle, but they simply stood there, their eyes hopeful and their mouths grim.

As my lips parted to question them, they vanished in the shadows, leaving me to wonder if I’d really seen them at all.

If they really were Brax’s parents, why were they coming to me now?

His parents had disappeared while investigating paranormal activity. Perhaps they’d been caught in the middle of something far bigger and stronger than they’d imagined.

Theirs was no doubt a supernatural disappearance.

It all left me with too many questions; annoying questions I didn’t have the answers to.

Returning my focus to my initial aim, I shook the ghostly parents from my head and turned to the principal’s office.  I needed some answers, some clarification about Brax.

Foregoing the polite rap on the door, I barged into Ms. Bright’s office.

Standing at the filing cabinet, she turned to me with a start, her eyes wide and alert.  In a heartbeat she regained her composure.

“Lux,” she said with a professional smile.  “You startled me.  I thought you were someone else.”

“Or something else,” I muttered as she shoved a file back into the cramped drawer and pushed it shut.

“How is your father doing?  I know he was close to Dr. Kingsley.”

I had little time for chatter and wanted to hurry to the topic of Brax.  “He’s doing better, thank you.”

“So unfortunate.  So tragic.”

“It certainly is,” I said with controlled impatience.

“Though I had few encounters with him, I do miss Dr. Kingsley.”

“Ms. Bright, I wanted to ask you about Braxton.”

“Oh my, yes.  That’s the most tragic aspect of this whole sordid story.  Poor young man; to be orphaned and left to his uncle only to lose his uncle so violently.  It’s an unfair amount of tragedy for one young life.  And now to be separated from his friends and sent to a boarding school in England.  I do hope he’s faring well.”

“Ms. Bright, why was he sent to England?  He’s old enough to stay here on his own.  He inherited his uncle’s estate, his fortune, so money’s not an issue.  He has friends here and a school and neighborhood he knows and feels comfortable in.”

She looked at me with chagrin.  “I wished he’d stayed, too, Lux.  He really is a fine boy, an admirable young man, but he was offered various options upon the death of his uncle.  I guess, in the end, there were just too many bad memories here and England appealed to him.”

That was impossible, I wanted to argue.  He had far too much here.

“The estate needs tending.  It needs him.”

I need him.

“Yes, I’ve heard it’s been temporarily left in the hands of a neglectful caretaker.  Such a beautiful home.  Apparently Dr. Kingsley’s immaculate garden is already overrun with weeds.”

“Braxton needs to come back.”

Ms. Bright’s eyes softened.  “You know, the bizarre circumstances surrounding Dr. Kingsley’s murder left Braxton very shaken.  Chances are he won’t return until it’s resolved.

But we all know Shayne so brutally killed Dr. Kingsley, I wanted to shout out.

“Asher was wrongly imprisoned,” I said.

“I’ve heard some people say that.  I must say, I was surprised when I heard he’d been formally accused.  Despite his gruff exterior and bad boy persona, I’ve always liked him.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to get Brax back to St. James, back to San Francisco?”

She chuckled softly.  “I wish I could, but it’s completely out of my hands.  As bad as I feel about this whole episode and about Asher’s imprisonment, Braxton has the final decision on where he stays, and he decided on England.”

“That was a month ago, when everything was fresh and confusing. Surely now he realizes he belongs here.  I’m sure he’s suffering greatly. I’m sure he’s lonely and longing to come home.  All he needs is a little push, a little reminder of the people here who are ready to help him.”

“I’m sorry, Lux.  There’s really nothing I can do.”

“Fine,” I muttered in exaggerated defeat.  It was hard to believe how close Braxton and I had quickly become, so inseparable, so connected, right from the start.  When we recognized we shared common abilities, we grew closer still.  And now he was a world away.

With Brax so far away and unreachable, and Asher in jail, I was left alone to deal with the things that were going on at the Academy, alone to face Moore and Shayne as they went about their lives as if nothing had ever happened.

“Is there any way you can just contact him?  Just let him know I’m trying to contact him?”

She looked woefully at me.

“Please, Ms. Bright.  I’ve left dozens of messages with a relative of Braxton’s, but I don’t think they’re relating the messages to him.  It’s the only contact number I have and it’s useless.  No email address, no Facebook, no Braxton.”

She offered me a faint and sympathetic smile.  “You must truly miss him,” she said.

I nodded hopefully.

“Look.”  She pulled out a little notepad.  “I can send him a friendly note, just a few words to remind him how we’re all still thinking of him and wish him well.  Just a warm note from a friend, not from a school administrator.  That’s all I can do.  I can’t promise I’ll get more of a response than you have.”

I wanted to stick around to see her pull out his address, or even the name of the school he was attending, but she simply smiled and offered a polite but dismissive nod.

Pleased to have her at least make an attempt, I rose and turned to the door.  “I really appreciate this.  It may not give me the results I want right away, but it’s a start.”

I slid back into the hall and joined the remaining stragglers who leisurely headed to their first class of the day.  Joining the relaxed pace, I headed to my French class with a sense of accomplishment.

Just three doors from my class, a hand clamped to my shoulder.  My heart shut out Brax and my body immediately went into battle mode.  Wasting no time I turned, grabbed the offending hand in both mine and twisted it around, effectively pushing it up into the back of the person who’d dared touch me.

He was tall, his shoulders strong and wide and inches above mine, but I didn’t care.  I held nothing back as I shoved him into a locker, denting the narrow metal door in the process.  Just as swiftly as I banged his head to the door, he turned my hold against me.  With strength that surprised and surpassed me, he grabbed my wrists in one hand, twisted around and shoved me back into the locker.

Overcome by lust, I had to inhale deeply as I tried to understand the reaction of my body.  Heated and hungry, it was far from the reaction of the warrior I was.  My legs were suddenly weak and my breath hot and labored.

Before I met his gaze, before I raised my eyes over the breadth of his shoulders, the strong line of his chin and perfect lips, I knew him; his scent, his unearthly power, the touch of his hands on my skin, and his relentless ability to so easily conjure up such great lust and longing.