Sweet Peril (7 page)

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Authors: Wendy Higgins

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction / Family

BOOK: Sweet Peril
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“Oh, thank God you’re all right, Anna. I’ve been dying to hear from you. Yes, it’s safe here, luv. I needed a lie in this mornin’, but it’s about time I got my arse outta bed. What time is it there?”

It was so good to hear her voice. “It’s late here. Are you guys okay?”

“Sure, sure. Astaroth’s been up our arses, but I’ve been more worried about you.”

I gave her a brief recap of my last six months before taking a deep breath and saying, “Listen . . . I need to get ahold of Kai.”

Silence.

“Are you in danger, Anna?”

“Well, no. I mean, not yet. I just really need to talk to him.”

Marna sighed. “I’m sorry, Anna. Truly. But he’s asked me not to give his number to you. I’ll pass along a message if it’s that important,” she offered.

I’d figured as much, but it still made me feel tight all over to hear it.

“Fine. Tell him I said to call me.” I squeezed the edge of my bed.

“Not happening.” Her response held a no-nonsense warning.

“Why not?” I stood. “Don’t all of you talk to each other? You, Kai, Ginger, Blake—”

“Stop right there, Anna. Kai rarely answers when I call. Blake’s the only one he’ll speak with anymore. I hate telling you no, but I really don’t want to get in the middle of this. What’s gotten your knickers in a twist, anyhow?”

I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation over the phone, and we both knew it.

“I’ll need to see you soon,” I whispered.

“Sounds interesting.” There was a grin in her voice. I wanted to smile, too, at the thought of Marna being free of her father’s control.

“How’s work?” I asked.

“We’re busy breaking hearts by the dozens,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sure your father is proud.”

“Oh, terribly.”

“Hey, I have a weird question,” I said. “What does it mean if a guy calls you ‘bang tidy’?”

Marna snorted. “Sounds like something a dirty wanker would say. Or someone pissing about.”

Now it was my turn to snort, because she’d called Kai a wanker.

We got quiet.

“Please,” I whispered. I knew I sounded as desperate as I was. “Can’t you tell me anything? Because I saw him tonight and even though he can be so mean, I know he still cares. I
know
it. Please, Marna.”

“All right!”
Her fierce whisper halted my pushiness. The
line was so silent I thought she’d hung up on me. “Fine. I’ll tell you something he told me. He admitted last week there’s a woman at the studio who’s always trying to chat him up. But apparently he ignores her advances because she’s this kind, cute little blonde whose name also happens to be Anna. She obviously reminds him of you.”

Her words spiked inside me.

“What else did he say?” I whispered.

“Nothing. I couldn’t get another word out of him, and that’s the truth. He only told me that ’cause I caught up to him while he was high at a party.”

“High?”

My heart began a quick gallop. What was he doing? Smoking? Snorting something? And, oh, gosh, why was I tingling all over? Lately my attraction to drugs had escalated. I’d been lucky. The demons thought alcohol was my specialty, and I’d mostly been able to avoid parties with drugs. But lately I’d been having dreams about just letting go. No more caution or responsibility or thinking. The very idea of being high . . . with Kaidan . . . I let out a strangled sound. Marna cursed under her breath.

“Get ahold of yourself. I shouldn’t have told you that.” She sighed. “And it’s not like he does it all the time. There’d been a whisperer doing rounds nearby him that night, so when offered he couldn’t say no.”

I sobered at the mention of a demon whisperer near Kaidan.

“What do you think’s going on with him?” I asked. “He won’t talk to me.”

“I think he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic. I know you
want to believe he feels the same as you, but what if he doesn’t? I love him, but he’s a funny one, Anna. Finicky. I’m telling you for your own good. . . .” I hated her remorseful tone. “Let him go, luv. He won’t budge when he’s made his mind up about something. He’s gone.”

Gone
. A ragged breath caught in my chest.

“I’ve got to go,” Marna said. “Ginger’s waking.”

“Take care, Marna,” I whispered.

“You as well,” she whispered back.

My body wanted to cry—to soak my pillow in tears, but they wouldn’t come. Instead I ended up on the floor, on my knees, pulling down the pillow to muffle my gasps for air. I’d known since Kai left that I’d have to let go of him, but it was a fresh slice of pain to hear Marna say it. I’d tried to come to terms with not having the things I wanted. I knew there would be something bigger to focus on someday, bigger than my life and my worries. And now it was happening. But I never imagined my life’s mission would be coupled with such agony and loss.

It wasn’t about me, and I couldn’t lose sight of that. My life was a tiny dot on the map. But even those tiny dots could make a difference—especially when they came together. I grasped that thread of hope and let it lift me.

The next morning Patti and I puttered around the kitchen in slow motion, waiting for Dad to show.

“Taste this.” Patti held out a plastic spoon she’d been using to stir the pitcher of sweet tea. I took the offered sip.

It was perfect, as always. I gave her a thumbs-up, then
squinted my eyes against the sharp pounding in my head.

“A couple aspirin would help,” Patti said.

I shook my head. No painkillers. They’d burn through me too quickly to be worthwhile anyway.

When Dad showed up, he skipped all greetings, coming straight for me, wearing faded black leather pants and a white T-shirt tight around his wide chest and arms.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a rough voice, searching my face.

He appeared the same as always—like a giant brute glaring down at me with his shaved head and graying goatee, but I knew it was only a harsh look of concern.

“Hello to you, too,” I said. I went into his arms and let him squeeze me. After half a year, it was a sweet relief to see him again.

I reached out and took his hand.

“Let’s sit down,” I told him. We sat next to each other on the couch, with Patti across from us in the rocking recliner. He watched me intently. “Something major happened yesterday. Remember Sister Ruth, who died before I met her?” Dad nodded. “Well, her spirit found me after all this time and she told me a prophecy.”

His demeanor changed. His eyes got bigger and he sat up straighter. “Go on.”

I told him everything. How Sister Ruth was a heavenly Neph, and who she’d descended from. When I got to the part in the prophecy about the fate of the demons, and a second chance at heaven, his eyes glazed over, lost in thought.
The room quieted as we all pondered the possibilities. I was once again filled with exhilaration, imagining earth without demons, and that excitement was followed closely by the fear of having no clue what I’d have to do to make it happen.

I squeezed Dad’s hand.

“You’re sure she said that?” he whispered gruffly. “You’re positive about every word?”

“I’m positive.”

When he finally sucked in a breath, his body shuddered. Dad brought my hand up to his lips for a kiss, then patted it and laughed with a quick burst of joy.

“You don’t know what this means to me. The thought of going home again . . .” He brought my hand to his heart. “Thank you, thank you.”

I had a hunch he wasn’t thanking me. I glanced at Patti, whose eyes were glistening just as mine were.

Dad stood and began to pace, running a hand over his smooth head. He whispered “hot damn” under his breath and grinned to himself. “I can’t believe there’s really a prophecy.”

“Huh?” I asked, confused.

“Back before I became a Duke, there were legends of a supposed prophecy of a Nephilim destroying the demons, but nobody believed it. They all thought it was made up by angels to psyche us out. Duke Rahab’s always hated the Neph and refused to have any of his own. I think it’s ’cause rumors of that prophecy left a bad taste in his mouth.” He stood there, shaking his head as if he were still trying to process it all.

“Why don’t I get us something to drink?” Patti said, standing. She tried to pass my dad, but he reached out and grabbed
her up in a bear hug, laughing and spinning her around. Patti let out a surprised laugh and then slapped at his shoulder until he let her down. She shook her head and grinned all the way to the kitchen, a blast of orange and yellow swirling through her aura.

He beamed at me, and what could I do but smile back? The man-demon was joyous.

The three of us sat at the table with our glasses.

“Okay. What are we going to do?” I asked Dad. “How do I make this happen?”

I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he went into business mode. He spoke in quick bursts as thoughts came to him.

“Sister Ruth was right. You’ll need allies. We’ll need to build an army of Neph willing to help when the time comes. Not all the Neph can be trusted. I’ll have to research them. It could take a while. We’ll have to be patient and careful in the meantime. The Dukes are a suspicious group and we’ll never be fully off the hook with them after that summit. I can’t touch the Sword of Righteousness, but I can show you some basic sword skills and get you in some classes. You’ve got that leg holster we made for the hilt, so you’ll need to keep it on you at all times. We’ll get you a passport right away. You’ll need a partner who can travel with you to recruit the other Neph. I can talk to that son of Alocer and see if he’s willing. The two of you can go on long weekends and school breaks. Maybe even—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dad.” My brain flipped out when he said “army” and then short-circuited at the mention of “sword
skills.” I wasn’t some “Giant of Old” like the Bible called Nephilim.

“What?” he asked. “You don’t want to work with Alocer’s kid? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. Kope’s great. And he’s the only one whose father isn’t keeping dibs on him. I get that. But as far as the prophecy . . . what if . . . I don’t know. This thing is so huge. How do we even know it’s about me? It just says ‘A Nephilim pure of heart,’ so there could be others. What if I . . .”
Can’t do it
.

When I looked into Dad’s eyes, I found a rock-solid faith there. He pointed at me. “You can do it. And you will. Don’t doubt yourself, ’cause if the Maker wants to use you, you gotta be all in.”

I swallowed hard. “But . . . I’ve been working,” I said in a small voice.

Next to him Patti’s eyes spilled over.

It was my deep-down terrible fear—that one day I’d touch the Sword of Righteousness and it would no longer zap me. I hadn’t touched it since before the summit.

“No, baby,” Dad assured me. “Your heart is pure.”

“But how do you know?” I whispered.

Dad shook his head. “Tell me how you feel about the people around you when you have to work.”

“I . . .” I glanced at Patti, who gave me a small nod. “At first I always get a little, I don’t know,
thrill
or something, when I can get them to drink. Like a rush of power. But then it fades, and I feel sorry for them. I worry about them and I feel guilty. I hate it.” The last part came out barely a whisper.

“That’s how I know your heart is pure, Anna,” he said.
“Through it all, you choose to love them. You could have come to loathe humans like many of the Neph do, or to feel indifferent toward them as a way to make it easier on yourself, but that’s not you.”

I chewed my lip and stared down at the table. So many elements of this puzzle were unknown, but I hoped he was right.

“Go get the hilt,” Dad ordered.

I looked up at him, a sharp pang of fear ripping through me.

“Go get it,” he said more softly this time. I went to my room and took the leather-clad hilt from my purse on the dresser. Then I walked back to the table and lay the hilt in the middle, sitting in my chair. Dad pushed back a little, taking his hands off the table and leaning away from it. A flash of fear crossed his face and was gone just as quickly.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling the hilt closer to me.

He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and open it. Just, uh, don’t point it at me.” He looked a little sheepish saying that. “Even though I’m sure it’ll know I’m not a threat. It’s just that a single slash from an angel’s sword is what sent me to hell in the first place, so, yeah.” He cleared his throat again.

“Is that what the sword does?” Patti asked. “Sends souls to hell?”

Dad eyed the hilt with discomfort. “It disperses justice as God would have it. It can send a soul somewhere, or it can wipe a soul from existence. It knows what to do when it hits. Go ahead and touch it, baby. Don’t be afraid.”

I stared at it for a long time before wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. With shaking hands I opened the top of the
leather casing and let the hilt slide out a few inches. I sucked in a breath and brought my hands down to the shimmery metal.

I gasped as an electric current blasted through my skin, zapping up my arm. Then I curled my fingers around the hilt and let the buzz throb through my body. No flaming sword came to life from the hilt, because I wasn’t in danger. But it worked. It recognized my heart and would allow me to wield it. Every cell of my body was alive with its energy.

Patti and Dad were both watching me, their eyes shining with hope and love.

I could do this. I wanted to live with purpose. I needed there to be a worthwhile reason for all the pain.

I slid the hilt back into its case.

“Dad?”

“Hm?” He glanced up, having been lost in his own imaginings.

“When can I go to California? To tell Blake and Kaidan?” His eyes narrowed at me and I fumbled on, a tightness clamping over my insides. “’Cause they live the closest. They need to know, right? Allies and all?”

He entwined his fingers and put them behind his head. “Maybe I’ll tell them myself.”

My shoulders slumped, and I quickly squared them back again. He was testing me. Patti could tell, as well. She crossed her arms.

“Okay,” I said, unable to keep the hint of bad attitude from my voice. “Just so long as they know about it. Soon.” I crossed my arms to match Patti.

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