True Intentions (17 page)

I'm speechless, feeling guilty I've been so jealous assuming other girls may have shared a deep intimacy with him—whether they knew what he truly was or not. On the plane, when he told me his parents had intimate relations with humans, I automatically assumed he did too.

"And for the record, you
are
perfect—in every way. You really have no idea, do you?" He pauses and then adds, "Any other questions I can answer?" His voice still sounds cold. His hands are curled tightly. His knuckles white from clenching.

I shake my head. There is still so much I
want
him to reveal. On the other hand, I have heard enough for now.

"Then, I have some for you; if you're willing to be cross-examined," he says.

I think I notice a slightly mischievous smile evident in the corners of his mouth.

"Okay, am I on the stand? Tell me, are you the prosecution or the defense lawyer?" I ask, trying to bring the slightest ounce of humor into our conversation.

My comment gets a smile—cracking his stone expression.

"Something similar to that . . . maybe you're the flytrap, and I'm the one in danger," he jokes, catching on to my attempt at humor and even adding some of his own. His mood seems less tense now; the pain fades from his beautiful face.

"But, I am curious, since you brought up the subject. How many notches do you have in your belt?" he asks bluntly.

He rolls over to his side, facing me now rather than looking at the ceiling. He is relaxed but utterly still.

I stare into the unbearable beauty of his teal eyes and start to laugh.

"Zero," I confess. "I'm actually embarrassed to say, but I never even kissed a boy before I threw myself at you at school."

He cocks a smile and starts to lean toward me again, brushing hair out of my face with his fingers.

My head begins rapidly spinning, and my butterflies instantly reappear.

How can his simple touch do this to me?

His lips gracefully kiss my hand, and he runs his mouth up the inside of my arm, gently grazing the skin with the softness of his lips. He next kisses my shoulder and works his way inward, until he presses his lips against my neck. I feel a comfortable chill come over me.
Darn him.

"What do you do that hypnotizes me so much?" He's grinning, showing his playful smirk again.

"Me? You think I do something to captivate you? You're joking, right?"

"So, you don't see it?"

"See what? See you're crazy? You could have any girl you ever wanted. And yet, you are now in danger trying to protect me—just the ordinary, new girl at your school.

You may get destroyed by Satan because of me . . . . I can't begin to understand why you would do that?"

A few seconds pass before he answers; he seems to be putting a great deal of thought into his words. I attempt to suppress my curiosity—to remain patient.

"Ordinary girl . . . huh? What would you say if I said I loved you?" he asks, appearing either unashamed of his feelings, or great at acting and testing my response.

Human, teenage boys never show that much confidence when discussing or expressing their emotions.

"I would say ditto. But you're avoiding my questions."

He slowly kisses my bottom lip for a moment, and then becomes a little more forceful and passionate with his mouth starting to explore mine. I wouldn't have been able to pull away from him even I had any desire to do so. While I kiss him, I can only imagine how two hundred plus years of celibacy might make someone feel.

"No, actually I am not avoiding your question . . . . I love you. That is why—to
answer
your question," he whispers in my ear.

I open my eyes to tell him "ditto," but he's already gone. Wow . . . he's inhumanly quick.

Chapter Twenty – Other Options

Today is a new day to hide from danger. I wake, not feeling refreshed and exhilarated, as I hoped, but scared instead. Fear and panic rule my thoughts. I don't have the slightest idea how to put my mind at ease.

Even if we could beat the odds and survive Satan's attempts to destroy me, where
can
we go from here?

Sam is stuck here for eternity, a slave to Satan. I'm a mortal. Another sixty or so years on earth doesn't sound very long when I think of eternity.

Can a person go to heaven after falling for a demon?

If I do end up in heaven, what happens to Sam? One thought lingers. I still don't understand why Satan sent Matthew on a mission to begin with.

Why does Satan want me dead?

Even if Sam killing Walter is the reason we're in danger, it doesn't explain how I ever got on Satan's radar to begin with.

Is there something else I don't know?

When we first arrived in Chicago, I told Mallory and Sam I wanted to visit the cemetery where Dad and Aiden are buried and to say hi to my old priest.

Today is a typical cold and dreary Chicago Sunday. Mallory insists today is a perfect day to spend at the cemetery.

I'd sent my mom a text message when the plane landed. Hopefully, she won't call Mallory's parents to check in, or she'll find out about my cousin tagging along.

I didn't wake up in time to make it to the church service this morning. I knew Sam wouldn't consider walking into a church of God, so I suggest Mallory take him to check out the scenery at a nearby park. I promise Sam at least ten times I won't leave the church's front steps until they return at.

* * * * *

The cemetery is deserted when I arrive to pay respects. I walk up to Aiden's and Dad's gravestones, which are right next to each other. Something unusual catches my eye. A large, engraved stone the size of backpack lies between the two graves with the following message:

Let the souls of these two angels protect us always.

Underneath is a scripture from Song of Songs 8:6:

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm.

For love is as strong as death, it's jealousy as enduring as the grave.

Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame.

I'm pretty confident I've never seen that stone before now. Not at the funeral, not at the house, and especially not at the cemetery.

I head inside the St. James Church. I have some questions I hope my old priest can answer.

I form the sign of the cross with my right hand and take a seat in the second row of this amazing, historic church. After a moment of reflection, I kneel down and say a prayer.

Dear Lord,

I know not why you have brought Sam and Satan into my life.

Please watch over me and help me make the right decisions always.

I pray for forgiveness for all my sins, like lying to my mother, then recite five Hail Mary's and Our Father's. As soon as I finish, I head out of the pew to look for Father Bob. I don't have to look very far. He's watching me from the back of the church.

I walk closer to him. He motions for me to sit down.

Father Bob is an older priest, probably in his mid-sixties. His hair is almost completely gray, and his belly is large enough to remind me of Santa Claus. I've always considered him approachable. He won't just quote all the Bible's scriptures as an answer to your questions.

I really like that about him.

"Ava, child. What brings you back to Chicago? Did things not work out in California?" he asks. A concerned look washes over his face.

"Good afternoon, Father. Actually, I'm just visiting for a few days."

"I see . . . well then, what a pleasure to see you. What do I owe God for this honor?

I smile and explain I'm here to visit Aiden and my father. He again gets a concerned look on his face when I mention I also came here because I wanted to speak with him.

"Certainly, my child. What can I help you with?"

How can I possibly explain my dilemma?

"Father, I recently had a dream about an angel," I start to lie.

Great, there goes my repentance.

Although, all this does seem like a dream. Too amazing to be true . . . .

"An Angel . . . I see. God does work in mysterious ways."

"Yes, he does. But this angel was not what I expected," I continue, my voice hesitant. "This angel gave his soul to Satan many years ago."

"Oh."

I stare at the disturbed expression that has taken over his face.

"And now this angel is trapped with Satan for eternity. I was wondering—"

Father Bob interrupts my speech like he's apprehensive over where this conversation may be heading.

"Ava, do you believe Aiden went to hell?"

I almost say no, but realize it might be better if I act unsure.

"I don't know."

He nods, "Ava, this angel gave his soul to the devil. I'm sure your brother is with God, not among the damned."

I don't like to think of my Sam as
one of the damned
.

"But what if this angel gave his soul to save another human, self-sacrifice?" I need to be careful. I'm walking a fine line.
Don't say too much, but find out if there is hope for
Sam.

His eyes squint as he considers what I've said.

I don't know enough about the church scripture to know what to ask.

He clears his throat, grabbing my attention.

"I have heard of people giving their souls to Satan, to save another. To my understanding, a person can sacrifice their soul. So, I suppose this angel could be damned for doing a noble deed. You must be careful, child. Sometimes the devil can come disguised as an angel into your dreams to temp you toward sin."

Part of me wants to jump in and tell him I know this. After all, I have firsthand experience in that category. But that's not what I need to find out. I keep cool and press further.

"Does it work both ways? Can someone bargain their own soul to save another's damned soul?"

Father Bob is going to start thinking I'm suicidal if I don't change the way I'm asking questions.

"I would think anything is possible when it comes to what Satan is willing to bargain for. One soul may be more valuable to Satan than another, who knows. Satan is the master of malicious temptations. He will always try to entice us into sin and disconnect us from the Lord. Our salvation from Satan is our soul, Ava. That is the
one
thing
he wants more than anything else. Once he has our soul, there's no deliverance from hell."

I nod, trying not to cry.

"I understand. Thank you Father."

My question has been partially answered. The only possible way I can save Sam's soul is to offer Satan something more valuable. If we end up trapped, I may be able to offer my soul to save Sam. Yet I doubt mine fits the description "more valuable
."
Satan would laugh in my face. Plus, I'd be damned for eternity.

Is there anything I can offer?

Chapter Twenty-One - Complications

Mallory, Sam, and I spent the rest of Sunday shopping in downtown Chicago.

Mallory acts comfortable around Sam, which puts my mind at ease. My plan is working. Mallory still believes Sam is my cousin from California, even though she is upset I never mentioned I had a hot, boy cousin. My explanation: I last saw him when visiting my grandparents when I was nine years old. How was I supposed to know he would be hot eight years later? I also remind her: he's gay.

Mallory has always talked about coming to California when she graduates because she wants to pursue a career in acting. She has dreamed of becoming an actress for as long as I've known her. While I volunteered at Safe Play, she participated in local musicals in Chicago theaters. She has stayed busy with acting and voice lessons. I have always hoped she'd follow her dream and move to L.A. Thinking purely selfishly,

there's another benefit of her coming to California. She'd be closer to me. Since we arrived in Chicago last Saturday, Mallory has spoken with certainty. She's moving to L.A. after graduation. It's nice to see Mallory's confidence.

It is unusual, but nice.

* * * * *

I spent Sunday night in Mallory's bedroom, sleeping on an air mattress. On Monday, I slept in the spare bedroom. I had hoped Sam would come to visit me like our first night in Chicago. My wish wasn't granted. Maybe he is getting sick of this plan, or
me,
after all.

Now it's Wednesday, and Mallory and I are going to the Opening Day at Wrigley Field. At least I have that to look forward to.

I assume he will stay nearby while Mal and I are at the game, but I also assumed he would pay me a visit last night.

Look where that got me
.

I force myself to climb out of bed and head to the bathroom. As I slowly drag myself down the hallway, I see Sam going downstairs.

"Hey there, cousin," I call out loudly.

He's already descended two steps and is looking away from me.

Disappointment floods my face.

He stops mid-step, turns around, and grins slightly. His expression looks forced.

"Good morning," he says.

I can't help but wonder what's going on with him.

I'm about to ask him why he hadn't paid me a visit last night when I hear Julia's bedroom door creak open.

Note to self: reexamine this topic later.

I shoot him a wink. "I'll see you downstairs. I'm going to get a quick shower."

With that comment, I step into the bathroom and close the door before I see his reaction, or he sees mine.

Once I shut the door, I slide my back down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor.

Tears fill my dry eyes. I blink rapidly, forcing the tears back. Once I've regained my composure, I undress while the shower warms up.

In the shower, I reflect upon his recent behavior. He has seemed different
ever
since
admitting he loved me.

Has he reconsidered?

Even if we survive Satan's attempts to destroy us, where does that leave us?

There are no fairytale endings for demons and humans. I'll inevitably die of old age or sooner, if Satan gets his way.

I consider the dreadful reality I've tried to ignore for so long; Sam will stay on Earth for eternity.