Lacrimosa (6 page)
Authors: Christine Fonseca
“Not against him you can’t. I’ve never met anyone who can.”
Good thing I’m not just
anyone
.
Lori stands and turns away, wiping the lone tear sliding down her face. Words float through my thoughts, words I’ve heard somewhere else.
Don’t go. Please don’t go. He’ll take you back with him. I’ll never see you again.
As quickly as the voice enters my head, it’s gone. I replay every syllable, trying to lock on to the elusive memory.
It’s no use. The memory is gone, leaving only the voice of my dead sister.
Again.
Chapter 8 – Betrayed Happiness
Nesy
My emotions swirl inside as the day continues. This job is so much more difficult than I had expected. I want to blame my humanity for my problems. Blame the imaginary memories my host
must
still have. Blame Zane for not cleaning her thoroughly.
But my human body isn’t the problem. I am. Just like Zane said. I think of my long-dead sister and all that she has meant to me. I cried when I decided to leave her. I wonder, did she cry for me when I died?
I walk into my last class, Study Hall, discouraged. Confused. I have to finish this assignment. Prove to myself that I’m the warrior I think I am and not some love-struck girl caught in her own memories—memories of a boy long since dead. Memories of a sister that no longer exists. Memories of a time that can’t ever be.
Adam.
I shouldn’t be thinking about you again. About that life.
I sit at an empty table in the large expanse of the library. The room is quiet except for the questions screaming through my head, their incessant loop, mesmerizing. It lulls my body into a stupor. My eyelids flutter and I yawn. I can’t fight my fatigue, can’t resist my body’s need to sleep. I slump over my books as dreams form around me. Large grassy fields, the scent of pine and soap, the sound of laughter as I die over and over again.
The visions pulse in and out, changing into something new.
A hand in mine…
hot
.
Breath on my neck…
sweet
.
The feel of lips on my own…
forbidden
.
I pull back from the boy in my dreams.
Black spiky hair. Tall, lean silhouette. Penetrating amber eyes.
Aydan.
I rip myself from the dream, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
“Dreaming of me already?”
I feel the color rise in my cheeks.
Azryel’s Wings
. I pull the fragmented pieces of my mind together. Consume my feelings. Orient myself: last period, Study Hall, library.
“You know, Mr. Presley hates it when people fall asleep in class. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you.” Aydan pulls out the chair across from me and sits.
“Yeah, well, it happens.” I can’t hide the anger in my voice. What the heck is wrong with me? Sentinals don’t sleep—especially when they’re on the job. “So, where’s your friend? The way you guys talk, I assumed you went everywhere together.”
“He had someplace to be.”
Good. Time to finish this before anything else can go wrong
.
“I guess it’s just you and me then.”
The corners of Aydan’s mouth twitch. I stare too long, remembering the taste of his lips.
Focus, Nesy. Focus
. “So, what are you doing after school?” I ask.
“Hanging out with you.”
“Interesting. And what exactly are we doing?”
“You asked me to walk you home.”
“Funny, I don’t remember asking.”
“Yeah, but you want to.”
Yeah, something like that.
I smile and take his hand in mine.
We leave campus as the bell rings. Cars and people fill the streets around the school. Goth boy is nowhere. Neither is Lori. Finally, a chance to vanquish in peace.
The bustle of the city makes it impossible to hear, so I step closer to Aydan.
“So?” Aydan asks. “Where do you live?”
I lean into him, painting a confused look on my face. I seem open, vulnerable. The perfect victim.
“I said, where do you live?”
“Oh! Chelsea. I usually take the train,” the lie flows easily from my mouth.
He smiles, his eyes radiating hunger. “Sounds good. But, let’s not go there. Maybe the park. I know some out of the way places I think you’d like.”
Out of the way places? Just what I had in mind.
Aydan places his arm around my waist and steers me up the crowded streets. My body reacts too strongly to his touch.
Inhale…Release…Inhale…Release…
I continue the breathing mantra with every step. I refuse to mess up this time.
The walk uptown is long, punctuated by the everpresent pulse of the city at the end of a day. Aydan’s hands never leave my body, as though he’s afraid to lose me. On the way to the park, we talk about school, music, his band. He’s easy to be around. And nothing like I expect. Not that I’d actually spent any time with the UnHoly. The thing is, I could like Aydan. A lot. If it wasn’t for the whole soul-sucking thing.
I find myself wanting to hear about his life, the things that make him happy, the things that annoy him. Each moment draws me closer. He’s nothing like the monsters I’m trained to kill.
Not even close.
The park is unusually quiet by the time we arrive. Sunlight glistens off the nearby skyscrapers, casting pink and orange hues across the sky. We walk through the grassy hillsides, past the lake and reservoir. Parents play with young children, couples lock in tight embraces. I need to get Aydan alone.
“I want to show you something.” He tightens his hold on my hand.
The groups of people thin with each step. As does my commitment to my duty.
“Here.” Aydan points to the bridge in front of us. “My favorite bridge in the city.”
I look at the smooth architecture of the cast iron bridge, carved to look like Gothic windows in a cathedral. There is a delicate beauty and strength to the bridge, and I find myself again surprised by this UnHoly. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “Why is it your favorite?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just always liked the way the iron curves at the base. It’s strong and delicate at the same time. I like the irony it represents.”
Definitely not what I would expect from the UnHoly.
The sun drops, casting shadows around us. Aydan slips his arm around my waist and leans into me. His lips brush mine.
I know I should resist him, but I can’t.
I don’t want to.
The kiss deepens and I lose myself to him. My energy begins to drain as I feel my soul—my angelic soul—slip away. It feels strange, almost as though something, someone, is trying to…
Kill me.
The world stops and I push him away, remembering
what
he really is. Remembering my task.
I turn away and finger my dagger.
“My turn,” I say. “I want to show you my favorite place in the park.” I take his hand and lead him back towards the lake.
“Which is?” he asks.
“A surprise.”
“Oh, I like a mystery.” He slips his arm around my waist and I struggle to keep my body from trembling.
Long shadows change the landscape while dark creatures make their way toward us, cloaked in darkness. Their odd insect-like shapes bend the shadows further, while the putrid scent of their flesh wafts past me. I close my eyes to avoid registering their presence. No doubt the creatures expect me to be their next meal.
I don’t think so
.
Pulling my emotions in tightly around me, I focus only on my job. I won’t get more than one chance to finish this. I’d better make it count.
“What are you thinking about?” Aydan’s breath sends a chill across my skin.
“Nothing.” Ignoring my body, I focus on the task at hand.
I guide him to a large courtyard near the lake. Dusk settles around us, casting an inky hue over everything. In the distance, fluorescent lights flicker on the upper terrace of the courtyard. We sit on the bench overlooking a large fountain.
“Here. My favorite place in the park.” I nod towards the sculpture sitting in the middle of the fountain—a peaceful angel that looks down upon cascading streams of water. She reminds me of Cass.
“Hmm? The Angel of the Waters?” Aydan furrows his brow. “I’m surprised. I would’ve thought that angel too passive for you. You seem more the aggressive type. A warrior. Not something as…well, weak.”
Does he know?
It’s a reasonable question. I replay every encounter from the club to the kiss. I may have been a little reckless—okay the kiss was
really
reckless—but there’s no way he could’ve figured out the truth.
“Can I ask you something?” He turns my head towards his.
“Sure.” My lips tremble. Darn human body.
“Why did you run off at the club?”
“I didn’t run off,” I lie. “I had to leave.”
“No, you ran off. I’m just curious why.”
“It was nothing. I just had to go.”
“Because it almost seemed like you were—”
“I was what?”
“Scared.” A seductive smile forms on his mouth.
“Of what? You?” I reach behind my back for the dagger. I need to time this just right.
“Yeah.”
I collapse any space between us, and catch him off guard. Our lips are barely apart, my fingers wrapped firmly around my knife. “And what do you think now?” I can feel him shudder. Feel his heart pound against mine. “Am I still afraid?”
“Terrified.” He draws a deep breath, parts his lips and kisses me.
It deepens, again pulling on my soul. I don’t resist. Not yet.
I raise my dagger level with his heart, mentally speaking the words I need to cast him out. He tastes my soul as I cling to my humanity and—
“Hey, Aydan.”
The unexpected voice pulls me back. I stow the dagger in my jeans, fear tightening every muscle. Taking a labored step backwards, I feel my face flush.
Aydan stares at me, a pained expression in his eyes. “Hey,” he says, his breath coming in ragged spurts. “What’s up?”
Two familiar figures walk through the shadows. Aydan’s band mates. “Just hanging out,” the weak, not-so-human guitarist says.
“We didn't mean to interrupt anything.” Aydan’s friend from school looks curiously at me, a smile spreading across his face.
I study him closely as a sense of dread laces through my senses. Just like earlier. Goth boy’s black hair hangs in a ponytail down his back. He has a strong jaw and chiseled features most girls would find attractive. He wears a t-shirt that reveals something I hadn’t noticed before, a series of Celtic tattoos covering his neck and jaw, eventually disappearing under the confines of his shirt.
The marks of the Beast.
He takes a step toward me, extending his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” His voice is as cool as ice. And just as unyielding. “I’m Azza.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as the adrenaline rushes through me. Our gaze meets and I understand everything. Black with no hint of pupils. The eyes of unspeakable evil.