Veined (A Guardian of the Angels Novel) (3 page)

The blonde haired boy I’d seen in the office spoke up, “Morality.”

“Yes, yes, but can anyone tell me more? What about it?”

I slid back in the chair and watched Jason slide a hand through his hair. “There’s a moral paradox. The title of the book suggests it itself. I mean, earnestness means sincerity, yet Jack or Ernest, who believes in a strict moral code—valuing things like honesty—is a hypocrite. He made up his fake brother’s death. He preaches one thing and does another.”

So, he was smart as well as good looking.

“ . . .
Sylva?” I snapped out of my daydream and looked up at Mr. Patterson. What had he said?

Luckily, he repeated the question, “Have you read this before?”

I nodded. Great. Now I was the focus of attention.

And just as predicted, Mr. Patterson smiled, and asked, “What do you make of the book title? It’ll be nice to hear a new perspective in our class.”

I could feel the rest of my classmates watching me as I flicked the pages of the book, analyzing my hesitation and trying to form an impression. They would either like me, not care, or immediately dislike me. If I sounded too smart, I’d surely piss most of them off, but if I sounded too dumb, then I’d ruin whatever slim chance there may be to get closer to Jason. The middle path, the only option left, was the trickiest to tread.

“Um . . .
” Point dumb. “It’s a play on words, a pun.” Sort of obvious but something- point middle. “Gwendolen’s actions highlight the title’s wit. She really wants to marry someone called Ernest although it doesn’t matter if they have any of the qualities of an earnest person.” Point smart.

“Quite right. Quite right,” Mr. Patterson said, while I looked at the students staring at me. Almost everyone lowered their faces or turned away. Only Jason didn’t avert his eyes, instead he smiled, his lip curling. I smiled back and returned to studying my empty pad.

An agonizing fifty minutes later, we were finally dismissed. It was difficult to concentrate when my mind wandered off on tangents, and I had to force myself to look straight ahead. I didn’t want to be away with the fairies again, should the teacher pounce on me for another answer.

I flung my bag over my shoulder and caught up to the girl in the tartan scarf. “Thanks for the pen,” I said and handed the purple and green pen to her.

She pushed it back, a warm smile on her face. “No worries. You’ll probably need it for your other classes. I’m Madeline, by the way, but call me Maddy.” I was surprised to hear her thick Scottish accent.

“Thanks,” I said, and slipped the pen into the bag. “I’m Sylva.”

Maddy’s smile brightened. “Oh, that’s a lovely name. I think it means wood and forest.” When I raised an eyebrow, she explained, “It’s a sort of hobby of mine. I like to know what names mean, I think it adds to someone’s character.” She fidgeted with her fingers and added quietly, “although Madeline means tower of strength and. . .” She lifted one arm, curling it tight and prodded her upper arm and nonexistent muscle with her free hand. “I guess you see where I’m going with this . . .”

I laughed. “I’m in the same boat. I can’t see how my character has anything to do with wood or forest. Unless you count my moments of denseness.”

She chuckled. “What’s your next class?” I fished in my bag and pulled out a crumpled schedule. She took it off me. “Goodie. We have the afternoon History and Math classes together. But you have Gym now, which is on the other side of school.”

I nodded. “I passed it on my way in this morning. I’m sure I’ll figure out where to go.”

“Meet me in the cafeteria for lunch?” Maddy asked hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure I’d accept.

“Sounds great,” I said, and flashed her an extra smile before turning away.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Gym was a breeze—although that was only due to luck (we had gymnastics). It was great to get back onto the beam and horse again, even if the stuff we’d done in class was too simple for my liking.

I crossed my fingers the cafeteria offered something appetizing for lunch. Severe disappointment. The best thing on today’s menu was rice pudding. I scanned the room, looking for any sign of tartan.

“Maddy,” I mumbled, as if it would help me locate her.

“Is that who you’re looking for? And here’s to hoping you were looking for me.” Jason stood next to me, smiling. “She always sits by the window, I’ll lead the way.” For the second time that day, I followed him.

Maddy was looking from me, to Jason, to me again as we approached, her eyebrows wiggling. Trying to ignore her, I placed my tray next to hers and faced Jason. “Thanks.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Hope to see you around.” The words fell naturally from me.

He leaned closer and my heart quickened. “Yeah, so do I.”

When Jason was out of view, Maddy let out a low whistle. “Wait till Marcus hears about this. He’ll hate you.”

Before I could ask why, the lanky blonde I’d seen in the office earlier dropped his tray with a thud opposite us. He gave me a fleeting glance before focusing on Maddy. When he spoke his eyes lit up. “There’s a new guy in the office signing up to start school on Monday and Oh. My. Goodness. Is he the sexiest thing alive.”

“That’s a real good thing,” Maddy said, her ‘r’ rolling. “Because it looks like Jason’s soon to be accounted for.”

“What?” Marcus and I said at the same time, although mine was a question and his was pure outrage. This time he really looked at me, his head shaking. I wasn’t sure just how much of it I should take seriously, but after he’d finished scowling, he grinned and extended his arm toward me. “I’m Marcus.”

I gripped his hand a degree firmer than polite, but like he did, I eventually grinned. “And I’m your competition. But you can call me Sylva.”

“I like you.” He laughed and leaned over to Maddy. “You seriously have good taste in friends. Example A.” He pointed to himself, then brushed a finger at me. “And B. And so you know,” he was back to scowling at me, “there’s no competition, only a
technicality
- we bat for different teams.”

Maddy tucked her short brown hair behind her ears and opened a yoghurt. “What’re the chances that fresh meat bats your way?”

Marcus theatrically clutched his heart, “He’s a heartbreaker. Absolutely charming. Hard to resist. But I’ve already seen him chat up a couple of girls. So we’re up two girls and zero guys.”

I shook my head. “Too many girls.”

“I’d say,” Marcus agreed.

On the way home from school, there was
n’t much traffic on the streets. Only one car beeped rudely as they passed. I didn’t care, I wasn’t going any faster than fifteen miles in these low clouds and wet streets.

And since the stupid CD player wouldn’t work, I hummed a tune to myself, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. School hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as I’d thought it would be. And it had helped me keep my thoughts from roaming to Shirley. Both Maddy and Marcus were great. And Jason seemed nice, too.

I chewed on my bottom lip, concentrating on the few feet of road in front of me. Where was I? I knew I had to go right, down one of these streets, but which one?

I squinted at the next street sign. A flash of red caught my eye. My gaze followed it as it disappeared into the thick white. I lurched forward, the seatbelt whipping against my chest. The engine cut. I’d hit a curb.
You’ve got to be kidding me.

I needed a new car. New luck.

I went to restart the engine when heavy drops showered the roof of my car. It couldn’t be rain, there was nothing hitting my windshield.
Probably just dew dripping from a tree.

Another movement. This time in the passenger mirror. Holding my breath, I peered into the cloud, thick as drapes blanketing the r
oad. Three shapes moved. I could only see outlines, but two of the three were enormous, at least eight feet high.

A fountain of red sprayed out one of them.

It’s fall
, I reminded myself,
it’s just red leaves swaying in the wind
.
Blurry because of the cloud.
And although reason told me it was my overly creative imagination, both my arms and legs exploded in goose bumps. “It’s just distorted fall leaves,” I said more sternly.

Looking away from the shapes, I grabbed for the keys.

A thundering thwack shook my car, jerking me forward in my belt.
Freaking hell.
  I whipped my head up.

Something—correction, some
one
—had just landed on my hood.

“Are you all right?” I shouted, fumbling to find the door handle, my eyes still glued to the figure. They rolled over
, and my hand dropped to the driver’s seat. Those gloves I would recognize anywhere.

The air whistled as I sharply inhaled. As if he’d heard me, he looked up. His sky blue eyes were wild, his jaw hard. A long scratch ran under one eye and blood dripped down his face like tears. Although the moment was fleeting, when our eyes locked onto each other, one corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. My back tingled like it was on fire, but the feeling stopped as soon as he looked away.

Through the glass I heard him speak, and it was so clear there may as well have been nothing between us. “Get the hell out of here.”

He jumped off the car and disappeared into the low cloud.

What the—? How? Why? And only a thousand other questions.

I didn’t dare look in the direction he’d run. Instead, I revved the engine. Cloud or no cloud, I was getting out of there as fast as I could. Stupid, stupid car. Always bad luck.

As soon as I drove into the driveway, I parked and scrambled out, still shaking. Stickiness, a little like congealed glue, brushed the side of my palm as I slammed the door. The roof of my car was covered in splotches, like burst bubbles.

It’s just tree sap.

I shivered and ran inside. No one but Mottle was home. She trotted after me as I rushed up to my room. I didn’t know what to do with myself. What the hell was going on? I paced the length of my room, my sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor at every turn. This couldn’t have really happened. Was it possible I’d hallucinated back there? A post-coma side-effect?

I collapsed onto the bed and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Mottle jumped up next to me, butting her head on my upper arm. I stroked her back. “So, what now?” I asked her, as if she’d be able to tell me the answers. “Mom and Dad aren’t going
to believe me if I tell them what just happened.” And Dad would drive me to school for the rest of my senior year.

I groaned, squeezing the cat so she gave a short meow. “Sorry, Mots.” I lessened my grip, but it didn’t lessen my confusion any. Who else was I going to talk to? It wasn’t as if I could rock up to Albelin and tell him what I’d seen. He might suggest more radical experimental treatment.

Electro-magnetism was enough.

I sat up suddenly.
Maybe I can ask my transition buddy if hallucinations were normal. And when they’d stop.

CHAPTER 4

MONDAY COULDN'T HAVE
come quick enough, and I was relieved to get to school
.
Over the weekend, I’d been a temperamental mess. Only Jeffrey kept me grounded, clinging to my side, asking if I was all right the entire time. Or if I needed anything. When I was with him, I tried to mask my worries, stuffing the image of Gloved Guy landing on the hood of my car as far to the back of my mind as I could.

At night, though, when there was nobody to hide my feelings from, it was all I thou
ght about. Flashes of red spurting through thick cloud, and Gloved Guy’s face streaked with blood. It taunted me every time I shut my eyes.

I rested my forehead against my cold locker door. The pressure of the metal on my brow seemed to relieve some of the stress. I was going to have to pull myself t
ogether to get through this day until I found out who my transition buddy was—
and
got them to tell me I wasn’t going nuts.

A voice close to my ear startled me. I pushed myself away from my locker, suddenly realizing how loud and full the hall was. Students gossiped in crowds, laughing. Books fell out of over-filled lockers. Umbrellas and coats dripped dirty water, and shoes squealed on the linoleum floors, trying to find grip between the puddles. I focused on the figure next to me. “Hey, Maddy,” I said.

She frowned, like she saw through my forced smile. “Are you okay?”

Her concern made it hard to keep up the mask, but I stretched my lips further as if it would make my guise of being all right more real. “I’m fine.” Well, I would be as soon as I got some answers. I hoped. “How was your weekend?”

“Um, all right. Mom freaked out when she saw the news that two more people were murdered on Saturday. She tried to set a six o’clock curfew on me. But that’s hardly going to stick if they’re never around to enforce it . . .” Maddy hesitated, looking at me like she was sure something wasn’t right, but didn’t know how far she could push me to find out what.

I didn’t want her to worry about me, or bring up touchy parental issues, so I pointed at her long feathery earrings. “Those look nice. They make your eyes look really green.”

Her face brightened. “Thanks. I made them myself,” she said, walking toward the entrance. I followed, numbly. “Maybe I could show you how to do it sometime.”

At the doors, Maddy pointed to a provocative poster of a girl I’d seen in a couple of my classes (but couldn’t remember the name of) lobbying for homecoming queen. “Please slap me if I ever look like that,” she said. I could tell half of her humor was an effort to make me feel better.

I grinned and nodded. “Hard to vote for someone if they don’t put up their name.”

A sour laugh came from Maddy’s delicate mouth. “
Ashleigh
doesn’t need to put up her name. Everybody knows her. For her to have to tell you her name would be a direct slap in the face. Actually, maybe you do want to ask her. . .” For a moment she shone like a fairy, beautiful and mischievous. I laughed for real this time. “By the way,” Maddy continued, “are you going to Twirp homecoming?”

I bunched up my hair and tied it into a makeshift bun. Gross. I hadn’t shampooed for two days and I’d left the house this morning without even brushing it. “Twirp?”

“Yeah, The Woman Is Required to Pay.” Maddy waggled her brows.

“Have you asked anyone?”

She nodded, her earrings swaying. “Marcus and I agreed to go together. There’s no one else I’d want to go with. But if you chose to come, I’m sure Jason wouldn’t mind . . .”

I must have gaped or something because Maddy nudged me in the ribs.

“So, you think you’ll come?” she said, smirking.

Thankfully, I was saved from answering. Marcus slid his arm around Maddy’s shoulders. He spread out his hand, waving it at us.

“See this? And I’d been so good to quit,” he said. Maddy mimed biting her fingernails. “Then Attic rolls up and in a manner of minutes I’ve started again.”

“Attic?” I must have looked confused because Marcus laughed.

“You haven’t seen him yet?” Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Let me be there when you do. I love to see a girl swooning and drooling all over the place.”

Maddy frowned. “Is he really
that
good looking?”

“Honey, he’s damn close to an angel. Ashleigh and her crowd were all over him with offers to show him around. You could tell he loved it, too.” Marcus sighed. “I wish I could show him around.”

“Well,” I said, suddenly feeling so much lighter. With Maddy and Marcus around, pushing my other issues to the side seemed easier. “Maybe he doesn’t swing only one way. As long as you swoon and kiss his feet or whatever it is the other girls are doing, you might be in with a chance. It doesn’t sound like he’s up for a relationship. Maybe you’ll do fine for a fling.”

Marcus’ eyes glazed over. “Stripping them of sarcasm, your words are actually comforting. Water in a desert.”

Maddy giggled and tugged on his arm. “We’d better get to Biology.” She winked at me and waved. As they walked down the corridor I heard her say, “If he’s in our class, maybe he’ll sit next to you. I’ll sit somewhere else so the seat’s free.” I could only imagine how that made Marcus beam.

I double checked my first class.
I still wasn’t used to a new schedule for every day of the week. It would’ve been easier if they did it like other schools and had it the same every day. Shoot.
Math
. I grumbled, heading to my locker, where I’d left the course book. Pulling it out and stuffing it into my bag, I heard the sound of a high pitched giggle. I closed my locker. The corridor was now empty, except for me and the giggler. I stood still, listening. It was coming from around the corner.

“So, if you’d like,” the giggler said, “we could check it out after school.”

“As long as you’re there, so am I . . . Ashleigh.” His voice was low, verging on husky, and undeniably sexy. Between my shoulder blades, my back prickled. Was this
Attic,
girl charmer extraordinaire? The guy rumored to be so devilishly hot that girls couldn’t think clearly in his presence?

His murmur trailed around the corner. “Hmm, that smells good.”

He was smelling her? Jeez, he moved fast.

“You can taste me if you want,” Ashleigh said.

My stomach convulsed, I wanted to retch and run away, but my darn curiosity immobilized me. Besides, I had to walk past them to get to my class. Maybe I could ditch? I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to learn anything, anyway. I hadn’t slept much and my mind was a circus of questions. Besides, I’d rather get detention than see two students doing it up against the lockers.

I rocked on the balls of my feet indecisively.

“We’d better get to class,” the male said. “Can’t be bad on my first day now, can I?”

Thank god.
I stopped myself from letting out an audible sigh. I gripped my Math book. Guess I was going to class then.

“Meet me here later?” Ashleigh said, in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Move. Hide. Pretend you haven’t just heard them.
Anything
. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I’d been listening.

Cheeks burning, I dropped my bag, spilling everything onto the floor as Ashleigh turned the corner. She walked in a large arc around me, as if she would catch clumsiness if she got too close. Well, that suited me fine, at least that lowered the risk of catching her sluttiness.

I heard a chuckle and, without looking up, felt Attic watching me. I shuddered.

“How’s the little Lark?”

My mark flared with heat. He knew my name? My hands shook as I gathered my pens, bobby pins and notes.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Attic’s voice had a slight edge of humor to it. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to ignore a polite question?”

Air stirred as he crouched to help me. When he reached out to grab a marker, my body went rigid, like I was in a computer game and someone had pressed pause. A black gloved hand held the marker out to me. I could barely breathe. The new guy, Attic, was
him
?

“You know," he said, "I’ve never heard you speak aloud.”

Taking a deep breath, I took the marker out of his hand, careful not to touch him.
What was he doing here?

With a hammering heart, I lifted my head, isolating and drinking in all his details, as if separating him piece by piece would lessen my fear of him. Or at least make me immune to the effect he had on women
. . . and Marcus.
Something is going on here. This goes beyond coincidence.
Dark blue jeans. Nothing particularly dangerous about that. A thin turquoise hoody with a soft black leather jacket pulled over it. An elongated silver pendant peeked over the top of his jacket. Sentimental? Or was he going for a look?
What does that even matter? This guy’s the reason you haven’t slept all weekend. The reason your brain feels like a spin-top.

I looked at his symmetrical face, searching his flawless skin for evidence of the deep incision he’d had under his eye three days ago. Nothing. I rolled back too far on my heels and landed on my butt.
But I’d seen it
. I was so sure . . . I whipped a hand to my head as if I must have a temperature.

“Lark?”

A silver hoop, the size of a ring, pierced his ear, and I focused on it. Under it, a scar ran two inches down his neck. My throat dried up.

Avoiding his direct gaze, I followed the smooth arc of his nose up to his hairline. Suddenly, words managed to work their way through my tight throat. “You’ve dyed your hair.” My mouth shut with an audible clap.
What
had I just said? I wanted to kick myself, not only for saying that out loud, but for even noticing he’d dyed the under layer of his hair dark blue.
Considering all the questions you have. Really, the first thing that pops out of your mouth is about
hair
?

A crooked grin lit up his face. “The little Lark tweets.”

A mixture of anger and confusion, but mostly embarrassment, seethed through me. I was glad, however, to be once again in control of what came out of my mouth. “My name is Sylva.”

Attic’s grin widened. “The Lark has a temper.”

I stood up too fast. A dizzy rush followed me. The last three days, my world had been a barrel rolling down a hill, with me trying to stay on top, so I was used to everything spinning. As I stormed around the corner, a pressure gripped my wrist and I was pulled back.

“At least let me introduce myself.” Attic spun me with ease, like I was some doll, until I faced him.

I glared at him, covering my fear with anger. “You’re Attic. I’ve heard the rumors.”

He raised an eyebrow and
loosened his grip on my wrist. “And?”

“I disagree with them all.” This wasn’t some guy to swoon after. He’d landed on my car hood, dripping blood. He was scary. I shook my wrist free.
And quite irritating.
Lark. He said my name with amusement, and as if he had every right to call me that.

“I meant: And
. . . what else am I?” Attic stared into my eyes and my mark prickled like it was being poked with needles. What had Mom said? That it happened with strong emotions or adrenalin?

I focused on his pendant. Did he want me to give him a list of all the things I could call him? Frightening. Irritating. Arrogant. The list seemed to be growing longer every time I met him.

He lifted my chin with his index finger and I was surprised at how soft and thin his gloves were, like a second layer of skin. “I’m your transition help, sweets. Here if you need help . . . adjusting to things post coma.”

My insides cramped up, constricting my breath. Of course. He was my “buddy”. Why the hell not? That was my type of luck, after all. But damn, he was the one I was meant to talk to about what I’d seen? The one who was going to listen to me and give me the explanations I needed to hear? I sucked in air. How could I expect him to answer my questions, when he was the one making me ask them in the first place?

My hands had balled into tight fists, my nails cutting half moons into my palms. I relaxed them. This was the guy Albelin had talked to about me. My transition help. In case I had questions.
Which I did
. Only I wasn’t entirely sure they were coma related.

I shook my head. “I don’t want your help.” It was true. I didn’t want it. Need, however
. . . “I’m just fine,” I lied. “And I’m extremely late for class, so if you wouldn’t mind . . .” I glanced behind me, toward my first class.

He gestured for me to go ahead. Quickly, I turned and strode down the corridor. Although I couldn’t hear him, I knew he was still there, following me. I twirled around to confront him, unsure where my confidence came from. “What are you, my shadow?”

His face was blank and he looked at me, bored. “Just going to Math.” And he pushed past me. I stared after him, dumbfounded. Of course he would have the same classes as me, he was my transition buddy.

“No, please wait.” Some part of me forced the words out. But they were so soft they may as well have not come out.