Something Deadly This Way Comes (5 page)

And then the inky black poured from the ceiling lights. It billowed up around my knees, and, like a deadly gas, it hit me hard. My knees gave way, and I fell, one hand still holding the top of the dryer. The heat of it seemed to burn my fingers, and I couldn't see. The blue stuff had gotten in my eyes and they were tearing. Suddenly I realized I wasn't crumpled on the floor of the Laundromat with my fingertips warm on the dryer.

I was in Tammy, her fingers burning, and she was terrified.

Choking, hot air burned in my mouth, and my lungs ached. I couldn't breathe. “Johnny!” I screamed, then hunched over, coughing. I fell, arms outstretched. It was dark, and I gasped when my cheek hit the carpet. The air down here was a blessed few degrees cooler, and I cried as I pulled it into my damaged lungs. I was dying. I had died before, and I knew the feeling though Tammy didn't—the same blackness edging my vision, and the same lack of pain filled my arms and legs.

No!
I thought, confused. I had changed things! We had talked to Tammy! This couldn't be the future, could it? Was there going to be a happy ending to this? There had to be. But the flash forward said otherwise, and by the lack of any blue haze, it looked like it was going to be tonight, not tomorrow. Damn it, I'd made things worse, not better.

“Johnny!” I cried again, crawling to his door. I found it, reaching up to turn the knob and push the door open. A wave of sound rushed out over my head, and I cowered in the sudden heat.

“Tammy!” I heard him call, and I crawled forward, scared out of my mind. I could smell things burning, and my mind walled the horror away. Everything. Everything was on fire.

And then I found him.

He was blind with terror, but at my touch, he grasped me, and we clung together as the ceiling above us turned into a beautiful, rolling orange and red. It was mesmerizing, even as my eyelashes singed and my nose burned inside.

“Tammy, I'm scared,” Johnny whispered, coughing, and I held him. It was too late. We couldn't get out. Crying, I rocked him, our backs to the wall beside his bed.

“I'm here,” I whispered, Tammy's last breath rasping as our twined thoughts were voiced by her alone. “You're not alone. I've got you.”

And then we looked up as a roaring sound of heat sucked a new breath of air into the room an instant before the ceiling gave way. Everything flashed red—

I jumped, feeling as if someone had slapped me. Terrified, my eyes sprang open.

“Barnabas!” I cried. He was crouched before me, his eyes intent. It was over. But what had happened? The memory of my heart was thudding after having been inside Tammy, and slowly it beat one last time and stopped. Her terror took longer to leave me, and I sat there clutching my cooling amulet as Nakita and Josh clustered around me in concern.

“You came back,” I said, thinking it sounded lame, and Barnabas shifted a few inches away. Standing, he extended his hand and pulled me, wobbling, to my feet.

The humid air of the Laundromat seemed cool. Tears were dribbling from me. I slowly leaned back against the thumping dryer, my arms wrapped around myself as I started to shake, the tears steadily slipping from me. It was awful. So awful.

“What happened?” Josh asked, but I couldn't talk. Not yet. They had died. Both of them. This was so unfair. Johnny and Tammy had died with grace, supporting each other in a way that was beautiful and showed the best of a human soul, but they had died. It wasn't what I had wanted. Her soul might be saved, but it was the end of her life that had bought its purity.

“Something changed?” Nakita asked, but by her tone of voice, she knew it wasn't good.

I looked past them at the empty Laundromat as if it was a dream and would flake into nothing and return me to that hell of existence, the fear, the hopelessness, the love for her brother giving Tammy something to believe in. “They both die,” I whispered.

“In a state of grace,” Barnabas finished for me, his brow furrowed.

Josh rocked back, looking worried. I would never tell him of the horror I'd just lived through. “I didn't save Tammy's or Johnny's life,” I said. “All I did was make it so a reaper didn't have to come out here and scythe her early. God, this sucks!” Depressed, I closed my eyes and wiped a tear away. I couldn't do this. It was too much. It hurt too much when things went wrong.

“We have to do something,” Nakita said, and my eyes opened. She was standing over the table, her lips pressed in determination. “Now,” she said firmly. “We have to go now.”

“But her soul is safe,” I said, wanting to do just that but surprised that Nakita did, too. “Why do you care?”

Her hand on the door, Nakita paused, looking at me to make me shiver. “Her soul may be safe, but mine is troubled.”

The memory of fire trucks
that existed only in the future seemed to haze over my sight as I looked across the busy road to the three-story apartment complex. Having watched—no, lived—Tammy and Johnny dying in a fire had more than shaken me. It had rocked me to my core. I'd thought that I'd made a difference, but all I'd done was make things worse. Josh, at least, got home safely. He'd been gone only five minutes, and I missed him already. I worried that he was going to drift away, looking for someone who wasn't being yanked across the continent to save someone she didn't even know, someone who didn't have to lie to her dad all the time, someone who had friends other than angels—and someone who could eat a friggin' bowl of popcorn with him. Why couldn't I just be normal?

I sniffed, jumping when Nakita handed me a tissue from her purse. “Thanks,” I said as I rubbed the soft paper under my nose and wadded it up in a tight ball. God, I was going to throw up, I knew it.

“I'm sorry, Madison,” she said as she stood awkwardly next to me while we waited for traffic to clear enough to cross.

“Me too,” I said, glancing back when Barnabas dropped from the sky, a soft thump of air giving him away. His expression was cross, and his wings immediately vanished, leaving him a slightly surly, broody teenager in dark pants, a faded band tee, and a black duster totally at odds with the hot weather. He shoved his hands in his pockets and joined us at the curb, just back from his quick trip to take Josh home. Josh said he was going to cover for me, but I was likely still going to have to make an appearance for my dad before too long.

I turned back, waiting for a light to change about half a mile up the road. Barnabas was upset, looking positively angry as he scowled at Nakita, something clearly on his mind. I'd be concerned, but disappointment clung to me like a second shadow, made worse by the darkening sky. Heat stored in the asphalt rose, and I brushed the hair from my eyes as I scanned the skies for black wings that wouldn't be coming. No, I'd fixed everything up just jim dandy. Thanks to me, Tammy would die without reaper intervention. The seraphs were probably tickled three shades of happiness. I was truly the dark timekeeper, able to convince people to kill themselves after a few minutes' conversation.

“You do not have a soul,” Barnabas muttered to Nakita out of the blue, shocking me. “Only creatures of the earth have souls.”

Souls?
I wondered, my thoughts going back to Nakita's last words before he had left, and I turned to see her standing with her lips pressed and her grip tight on her red purse.

“I do, too,” she said defiantly, but she looked frightened as well. “I fear,” she said as if finding strength in it for the first time. “I'm creative. I think I could love. I say that means I have a soul. It might not be perfect, like Madison's, but I've got one. And it might be in danger if I just let Tammy die.”

Bemused, I looked at them both, Nakita flustered and looking like she'd done something wrong, and Barnabas, angry and surly. “You guys don't have souls?” I asked, and Barnabas dropped his gaze to his faded sneakers.

“Angels don't,” he said bitterly, almost jealously. “Even ones kicked out of heaven.”

A semi clattered past, and I held my hair to my head. “Who says?”

“
I
have a soul,” Nakita said firmly, but her expression was haunted. “I have a piece of Madison's.”

Mine?
How could she have a part of my soul?

“I . . . don't think I can give it back to you,” Nakita said. “I'm sorry.” She was pleading, looking both frightened and desperate, her blue eyes pinched in concern. “It's just a little sliver from yours, it got stuck in me with the black wings. I'll ask the seraphs to try to take it from me if you want it back. It might make things easier. I don't think we're supposed to have one—”

“No!” I said immediately, and Barnabas's eyes squinted. “No,” I said softer. “You keep it. Are you sure? I mean, I don't feel like I'm missing anything.”

Nakita's smile was blissful, as if a great guilt had been lifted from her. “I feel it,” she said firmly. “I knew it was there ever since the black wings, but I didn't know what it was because sometimes it makes me hurt inside, but even then it feels good.” Shyly, she looked up at me from lowered eyes. “Thank you.”

I touched her arm so she'd realize I knew what it meant to her. “You're welcome.” She had a part of my soul? Jeez, just how much had I ruined her existence?

“You do not have part of Madison's soul,” Barnabas said disdainfully.

“I do!” Nakita's anger flared. “You need to shut up, you filthy light reaper! You don't have one, so you don't know anything about it!”

“Nakita,” I admonished, but it almost looked like Barnabas appreciated the insult—even if it was technically inaccurate. His eyes were on the traffic, and I followed his gaze to guess that it was clear enough to cross with two angels with me. “Let's go,” I said. “Nakita, I'm glad you have a part of my soul. It's the least I can do for having put black wings inside you. Keep it. Make it yours.”

My feet hit the pavement, and the heat rose up in a wave. I could hear them following, going slow, then fast as cars came and went around us. Barnabas hustled to catch up, and as we reached the curb, he whispered, “Do you think she really has part of your soul?”

I shrugged. “If she says so. I don't feel like I'm missing anything.”

Nakita strolled past us, intent on reaching the apartment building. She looked breezy and bright, clearly relieved that the question of her soul had been settled. “Tammy is on the third floor. I can sense her resonance.”

Barnabas and I found the sidewalk together. He looked angry. “Barnabas,” I started, and he interrupted me.

“I'm fine,” he said brusquely.

“Who's to say you don't have a soul?” I said. “Maybe that's why you got kicked out of heaven in the first place?”

His pace faltered, and he looked at me in wonder. Something in me ached to see him hurting inside this much. “I don't have a soul,” he said, but there was a thread of doubt in it. “We weren't made to have one. We were made to serve, not delight in God's creations.”

Serve?
I thought, then filed that away to think about later. “Well, you did get kicked out because you loved someone, right?” I said, watching my shoes scuff the thick cracks as we slowly followed Nakita. It was the first time I dared to ask him about his past, and though he seemed uncomfortable, I wanted to know. “And you found value in life, not just someone's soul. You can't value something you don't have, can you?”

“N-no,” he stammered, but Nakita had already opened the front door and was waiting for us. The cool air flowed out, but that wasn't why I shivered.
Barnabas has a soul, doesn't he?

I followed Nakita inside, seeing the faded carpet with the flat, black spots that had to be old gum. It smelled like dry dirt, and there was a thick layer of dust on the narrow sections of hardwood between the carpeted stairs and the wall. A bank of mail slots took up one wall with a scratched table under it. There were a couple of pieces of mail sitting there, and nothing else.

“Upstairs?” I offered, and Nakita started up, then me, and finally Barnabas, still probably thinking about his soul or the lack of one. Someone was playing music too loudly, and it rapidly grew as we ascended.

We rounded the second landing and started up the last stairway. The music was coming from the third floor. It thumped into me, the bass being joined by a guitar and an angry vocal the higher we went. My curiosity turned into a wince as I realized that the aggressive music was coming from the apartment that Nakita had stopped in front of. C3, corner apartment, top floor. It went without saying that Tammy's mom was probably not home.

Suddenly unsure, I wiped my hands on my jeans. I didn't have a clue what I could say that wouldn't sound crazy. I didn't
care
if I sounded crazy at this point. The memory of the two of them dying was too awful to risk becoming true.

“Well?” Nakita prompted.

“This is a bad plan,” Barnabas said, but he leaned past me, ringing the bell and knocking on the varnished door.

Plan? Who said anything about a plan? I don't even have a plan!
I thought in panic as a dog began to yap wildly, and the thin strip of light coming from under the door was eclipsed by frantic little paws. From behind the door came a kid's voice telling the dog to shut up, and then, with a burst of music, the door opened.

“Yeah?” Johnny said, hardly looking up from his handheld game as Seether's “Fake It” blasted. With one foot, he shoved the little yellow dog back. He was still dressed in his school clothes, and the polo shirt and black Dockers looked out of place in the untidy living room behind him with its dirty dishes on the coffee table. The adjoining dining room wasn't much better, the table covered in what looked like college textbooks. To the right was the open kitchen, just off the narrow entryway. I blanched at the memory of the room in flame, and my eyes went to the ceiling, recalling the beautiful, deadly curls of gold and black and the searing heat in my lungs as Johnny died in my arms.

Tonight?
I wondered, scared. It had to be. The vision had been very clear.

“Is your sister here?” Barnabas finally said, since I was lost in the horror of the memory.

Still playing his game, Johnny dropped back. “Tammy!” he shouted over the music. “Your friends are here!” Head down, he walked to his room off to the left. From the kitchen, the phone began to ring. The dog, too, was still barking. Not knowing what to do, we all stood in the doorway.

“Come on in,” Johnny said, walking backward and killing ninjas at the same time, and then louder called, “Tammy!” Without looking up, he edged into his room and shoved the door closed.

I looked at the two of them, and then the empty room. “Should we go in?”

Barnabas pushed forward. “I would,” he said, positioning himself just over the threshold. “Otherwise as soon as she sees us, she's going to slam the door in our faces.”

“Have some faith, Barnabas,” I said as I followed Nakita in and stood with my feet just on the linoleum that marked the beginning of the kitchen.

“I have lots of faith,” the fallen angel said as he crouched and coaxed the dog closer. “I have faith that this is a bad idea. She's not going to believe you. She's going to think we're nuts. She's going to call the police unless she has a record, and if she does, she'll run away.”

I frowned, glancing at the front door. It didn't seem right to shut it.

Nakita shifted to stand even deeper in the kitchen, positioning herself so she could see the entire main room. “There's a lot of noise in here,” she said, looking at the phone, still ringing.

Maybe a fried stereo would be what started the fire. I was starting to wonder how these two had survived even this long when from a back bedroom came a frustrated, “I said, would you get that, Johnny?”

The volume of the music suddenly halved. Three seconds later, the door across the living room from Johnny's was yanked open and Tammy strode out, her hair swinging as she stomped into the living room and started throwing couch pillows as she looked for the phone.

“Where's the friggin' phone?” she muttered, snatching it up. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked mad. Spinning, she jerked to a stop as she saw us all standing in the kitchen, Barnabas still crouched as he rubbed the ears of the little dog. The phone in her hand rang again, seeming to jerk her out of her surprise.

“Oh, no,” she said, recognizing me. “Get out!” she shouted, waving her arm at me. “Johnny! You're not supposed to let anyone in!”

“It's for you!” came his hidden voice. “I'm not your stupid secretary.”

Expression dark, she started for us, halting as she realized how vulnerable she was. Holding the phone like a weapon, she snapped, “Get out,” before thumbing the phone line open.

“Hello?” she said, watching us stand there. “I'm sorry, Mr. Tambu. Johnny turned it up when I was in the bathroom. It's down now.” She frowned. “I said I'm sorry!” she said, then hung up on him. Shaking, she faced us. “I told you to get out!” she said loudly, but she looked scared, making me wonder why she hadn't told her neighbor we were up here.

“Tammy, just listen,” I said, thinking that leaving the door open might have helped. “We're not going to hurt you. You're in trouble.”

“I'm in trouble?” Tammy pointed the phone at us. “I'm not the one breaking and entering! Get the hell out or I'm calling the police!”

But she hadn't yet, so I didn't think she would. From her room the music shifted to something darker, more dangerous.

Barnabas stood up from petting the dog, looking calm and casual, like the lead singer in a boy band. “It will take them forty minutes to get here,” he said, his voice soothing, beautiful. “If you listen to us, we'll leave in three.”

Tammy swallowed and Nakita rolled her eyes at the effect he had on her. “Who are you?” she asked him. “You weren't on the bus.”

“Barnabas.” He smiled, and I almost groaned as he charmed her. Good grief, he was better at this than Nakita and me put together, and yet he still harbored doubts we could make a difference.

Nakita edged forward. “We're trying to help. Your soul is safe, but not your life.”

Tammy's expression immediately shifted back to mistrust.

“Nakita!” I all but hissed at her. “Will you shut up about souls! Everyone thinks we're nuts when you talk about souls like they're as common as TVs.”

She looked at me innocently. “But they are.”

“That doesn't mean we talk about them!” I said, exasperated.