Silver Smoke (#1 of Seven Halos Series) (6 page)

"It's Rykken." Brie's spine tingled when she heard his name. "Can I come in?"

Brie sighed loudly, making a big production of stomping to the bedroom door. She turned the knob and opened it a crack. "What is it?"

"Pilot asked me to check on you."

Brie opened the door all the way. "Are you on suicide watch now?" She held up her arms. "Look. No blood. My razor is sitting safely in the shower."

Rykken cringed. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking. You saw James look at my wrists when he walked in."

He eyed her, his gaze intense. "Can I come in?"

Brie blinked. Rykken didn't wait for her to answer; he pushed past her and sat down on her bed, gesturing for her to join him. She sat gingerly on her plush comforter, tucking her legs underneath her.

First boy in my new bed
, she thought.
Adele would love this
.

Rykken cleared his throat, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. "It would help you to have someone to talk to about your mom. Pilot talks to me all the time. He's sad, but he's recovering."

Brie frowned; she didn't like the underlying tones of his husky voice. "I have someone to talk to—

Sirena."

"Earlier today you thought she was playing a prank on you and you couldn't trust her. Now you're best friends again?"

"You convinced me I could trust her. Plus I don't really have a choice. I have to trust someone."

Rykken squinted lightly, his skepticism reaching his eyes. "You can still consider a few therapy sessions."

"What?" Brie glared at him. "You've checked on me. I doubt Pilot asked you to get in the middle of this."

"You're right, he didn't." Rykken took a deep breath. He shifted positions, and his khaki shorts crinkled against his shirt. "I'm only saying this because Pilot is my best friend. Look at what your actions are doing to him. If you don't want to go to therapy for yourself, do it for him."

"This is not about a few therapy sessions," Brie said, her voice rising. "It's about James barging back into our lives. He doesn't belong here. It's like being bossed around by a stranger."

"Well, first of all, James lives here. This is his house." Brie huffed, but Rykken continued. "And second, can I give you some advice? James wants you to go to therapy because he cares. Give him a chance."

"That's it? That's your advice?" Brie laughed. "You don't know James that well if you actually believe that. James wants me to go to therapy because it's a solution that he can pay for."

Rykken folded his arms across his chest. "From someone who has never known his biological parents, count yourself lucky that you still have your dad."

"He's not my dad. He left us when I was born."

"There might be a good explanation for why he left."

"Aside from selfishness?" Anger boiled inside Brie, causing her to rise. "You know what, Rykken? You
can't
give me advice. You assume that you know me because you and Pilot are best friends, but you don't know a single thing about me."

Rykken flinched. "You'd be surprised how much Pilot confides in me."

Brie barely resisted the urge to ask what Pilot had told him. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Here's what
I
know: your foster parents are nice and have spent more time with you in the past few years than James has spent with me in my lifetime. Yet you spend all your time over here, ignoring them and trying to be a part of my family."

Rykken stood up, facing Brie. "Do you think it's easy growing up in foster care? You have everything here—every opportunity in the world to create a great life—"

"No," Brie interrupted. "This may seem like a castle, but this isn't a fairytale. Money means nothing when you've moved across the country because the only parent you've ever had is dead."

"You know that's not how I meant—"

"My friends have sold my story to stupid, trashy celebrity magazines. The entire country is watching my every move, hoping to catch me falling apart. And now I have a whole lot more to worry about." Brie walked to her bedroom door and turned the knob to open the door. "But you don't know or care about any of that. You only see the upsides. You wish you had this money or fame or whatever you think is so great about us, and your friendship with Pilot gives you your daily hit."

Rykken walked toward her, his eyes electrified, forcing her to take a few steps back. He leaned one forearm against the wall Brie was standing against, cornering her. "Is that really what you think of me?"

His face contorted with anger, but there was a hint of sadness in his umber eyes.

"Am I wrong?" Brie challenged. His hot breath emanated over her face. He smelled like peanuts and spices and rain.

Rykken balled his fists, ignoring her question. "James may be a bad parent, but he's right about one thing."

"What's that?"

"You do need therapy."

Rykken slammed the door shut behind him as he walked out. Brie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, sinking slowly to the carpet.

With everything that happened during the day, it was no surprise she couldn't fall asleep that night. What shocked her though, was that as she lay there, buried away under her comforter, curled up against her pillow—his last words were the only ones she could remember.

Thessa undid the last roller from Brie's hair, pinning the curly clump to the top of her head. "What do you remember about Remy?"

Brie searched her mind for the right answer, trying to remember the hierarchy the Hallows had taught her thus far. There were seven archangels and seven archdemons that had bloodlines tied to earth. The bloodlines formed two hybrid races, in addition to earthlies—the Hallows and the Nephiim, half breeds of humans and archangels. Each race had its own traditions, magical abilities, and rules, but both had the same mission—to influence the minds and hearts of humanity.

Within both the Hallows and Nephilim, there were factions of government. The New Order was the dominant government for the Hallows, though every Hallow had the choice to join one of the smaller pockets—sort of. According to Clara, few were stupid enough to do so.

Of course, there were other types of angels, but they were lesser archangels, or they were part of the lower Chorus. The Hallows didn't seem to care about these angels nearly as much as the seven that Theos trusted the most.

Remy was one of the seven archangels. "She stands for hope." Brie scratched her thigh where her itchy cheer uniform rubbed against her skin. "Remy sees things long before the rest of the archangels and advises them. They look to her for instructions because she has true visions."

Not bad." Thessa orbited around Brie, spraying her final curl into place. "Who is the archangel of prudence?"

Brie tried not to cough. The girl's locker room smelled of hair product, expired makeup, and perfume mixed with sweat. "Raphael."

And what does Raphael carry with him at all times?"

"A horn," Brie said, even though she didn't care. She wished her training focused less on history and more on how to
use
her powers, but she wasn't sure the Hallows would ever teach her anything interesting if she couldn't pass Thessa's quiz. "He's also a healer, and his sons and daughters can bind the powers of daemons of lowly order."

Thessa smiled and applied eye shadow to Brie's eyes. "Now, who stands at the Gates of Eden?"

"Uriel."

"Known for?"

Brie thought for a minute. "I can't remember."

"Charity." Cora frowned. "He was one of the original Watchers, the only one who didn't fall." She sat on the bench across from Brie with her arms folded over her lap. "Tell me about the Watchers now."

Brie tried to remember, but her thoughts were on Annie, whom she'd lied to again about where she was, and James, who she wished she didn't have to go home to. She had no idea who the Watchers were; it was yet another of the hundreds of terms that the girls had thrown at her this week.

Clara stood up from the elaborate warm-ups she had been doing in the corner of the room. "Are you even trying?" Clara asked, stretching her arms over her head and exposing her slender, flat stomach from under her cheer uniform. "We've been working on this all week and you
still
can't remember the simplest things!"

Brie covered her own belly with her arms, feeling self-conscious about her soft, exposed skin.
Yet
another thing Clara has over me
, she thought bitterly,
along with perfect looks, perfect grades, and the
perfect amount of confidence.

"Brie?" Cora said. "Are you still with us?"

"I'm trying to learn the history of an entire civilization." Brie caught Cora's eye. "Help me out here."

Cora touched the side of her forehead, wincing. "Here's a hint about the Watchers, Brie. My father was a son of Uriel, remember? He was pure-blooded, and he spent his time in Egypt trying to establish alliances with the Nephilim."

Brie wasn't sure how that was a hint about who the Watchers were, but she didn't want to prove Clara's point any further. "You just said Uriel was known for charity though." She gestured in Clara's direction. "Anyone can see that charity doesn't run in your family."

Clara huffed. "There are only seven archangels and you've had four days to learn them! How much more charitable can I be?"

Brie turned sharply, only to get stabbed in the eye by a mascara wand. "Ow!" she exclaimed.

"Stay still," Thessa said, dabbing Brie's eye with some sort of solution. She tilted Brie's head upwards. "Blink." Brie blinked several times. When she focused her eyes again, Thessa was staring down at her.

"She's right," she said. "You aren't trying hard enough."

"I'm distracted," Brie said. It all seemed unfair to her; she had never been great at quizzes or memorizing things or any skill that helped you succeed in school. She was better with hands-on instruction.

"
Focus
on this," Thessa said coolly. "There is nothing more important than your Hallow training right now."

"What about cheering?" Brie asked. "I've spent every practice with one of you, trying to learn this Hallow stuff. When do I learn the cheer routines? We have a game tonight and I still have no idea what to do."

"Oh right," Thessa said. "I completely forgot about the routines." She gestured Clara to come over to them.

Clara, wearing her signature scowl across an otherwise beautiful face, held her hands out palms up, gesturing Brie to place her own palms on top.

Brie loathed the way Clara looked at her. She stepped toward Clara, willing herself not to flinch away.

Clara grasped Brie's hands tightly, a cool, amused look on her face. "This will take a minute, princess."

Brie closed her eyes and tried to ignore the awkward sensation of something liquid and rough coursing through her veins. In her mind, she was inundated with moves as the choreography for each routine flashed across her inner eyelids. She could hear the music as if she were listening to it through headphones; she could sense where she needed to step with every beat. Her feet began to mark the patterns instinctively.

Several minutes passed before Clara released her. Brie slumped to the ground. Thessa and Cora caught her by the arms and hoisted her back up.

Brie held her head; her palms spread wide open against her scalp. Her mind was putty, as if she'd just taken the most difficult math exam, ever. "What did you do to me?"

"I uploaded all the routines to your short term memory," Clara said.

Thessa seemed surprised and a little puzzled; her expression toward Brie seemed wary. "Clara's mind functions like a machine. She stores and interprets data the same way a computer might spit out answers to a very difficult problem."

"And it really works?" Brie couldn't believe she would actually remember all the words, choreography, and stunts she was supposed to know for the football game they had that evening.

"Let's put it this way," Clara said. "If I could bottle my power and sell it in pill form, everyone everywhere would give up Adderall as a study aid." She tilted her head. "Speaking of which, maybe I should upload the seven archangels to your brain so we don't spend another week trying to learn them."

Brie flinched, but her nerves were dancing too fast for her to come up with a retort. She hummed to herself as she marked the routine. Outside the locker room, a low din of buzzing students flooded the hallways with buff and blue, their school colors. Brie always thought buff was a yellowish-brown shade, like the color of sand or leather. But their uniforms were really the color of marigold.

"I can't even do the splits on the ground," Brie said uncomfortably, feeling the part where she was supposed to leap into the air with her legs spread.

It's a toe-touch," Clara said pointedly. "Jump at that part, the upload will do the rest for you."

"Trust us," Cora said, placing her hand on Brie's arm. Brie's heart slowed to a reasonable rate.

"Clara has one of the rarest and most coveted gifts a Hallow can have."

"Gifts?" Brie asked, glancing at Thessa for an explanation.

Thessa stared at her, her mind churning behind her eyes. When Brie stared back, Thessa broke eye contact and stood up.

"We told you about transmutation and motivity, right? Transmutation is how we change physical matter―healing ourselves, or transmuting objects. And motivity is how we move quickly across space, so quick sometimes that we seem to disappear and reappear to the average earthlie eye. We can also stop motion, as you experienced when you inadvertently stopped Sirena's bike."

"Right," Brie said with a twinge of annoyance. "You told me all of this already."

"That doesn't seem to mean much," Clara mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Brie said.

Clara opened her mouth, but one look from Thessa silenced her.

"While every Hallow has the basic supernatural powers of transmutation and motivity," Thessa said,

"the purer-blooded Hallows have additional powers related to their bloodlines."

"Michael's bloodline is pure," Brie said. Clara made a rude noise, mumbling something under her breath that this time Brie couldn't hear.