Текст книги "The Watcher"

Автор книги: Lisa Voisin

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Eighteen

The next few days were almost normal.

At school, I marveled at how Michael passed for perfectly human. Nobody else could see the intermittent flashing of his halo or the vague outline of his wings. The fact that I knew what he really looked like was an intimate secret between us, almost like seeing him naked would be. Okay, nowhere near as good as that. But I was beginning to enjoy it.

Elaine published an article on her blog saying I broke Damiel’s heart and rejected him for Michael and that’s what made him go away. The article upset me a lot more than it did Michael, who just ignored it, but he wasn’t the one being called the next whore of Babylon—something I had to look up the meaning of online. The girls who liked Damiel gave me dirty looks in the hallway. It made me almost wish Damiel would come back, as long as he left me alone.

At night, Michael watched out for me, but kept his distance like I was some kind of VIP and he was my angelic security service. Though they’d cleaned up the hellhound problem, something was worrying him. Something he didn’t want me to know.

Fiona came back to school on Wednesday, and Heather and I stayed close. We wanted things to be as normal as possible and she didn’t need people gossiping or staring at her. At least Elaine didn’t print anything in the school paper, which, for Elaine, was actually decent.

I was on my way to lunch with Michael when I noticed Fiona alone at her locker fumbling with her books. She dropped one, and as soon as she went to pick it up another one fell. She didn’t seem depressed this time, but a few people were chuckling at her while they gossiped amongst themselves. I could tell it made her uncomfortable.

“We should go talk to her,” I said to him. “Take her to lunch.”

“Wait a sec,” he said. When I gave him a questioning look, he added, “You’ll see.”

“Are you going to wave a magic wand or something and make it all better?”

He whispered in my ear, “I’m an angel, not a fairy godmother.” The heat of his breath traveled all the way down my neck, and I had to fight the urge to press myself against him.

Arielle appeared in the hallway. At first I thought she might say something to us, but other than giving Michael a nod, she walked right past. “Hey,” I said, lifting my hand to wave at her.

Michael caught my hand. “Shhh,” he said, his voice barely a whisper in the noisy hallway. “Don’t draw attention to her; she’s working. It’s going to help.”

“We’re the only ones who can see her right now?” I felt utterly foolish. Of course she was working. She doesn’t go to school.

If anybody else had seen me, they’d already moved on. Arielle approached Fiona and touched her arm. Fiona didn’t seem to notice, but this was how it worked. Arielle would whisper words of kindness, unseen, and Fiona would start feeling better. She’d already brightened. A smile crossed her lips.

Michael squeezed my hand and led me down the hall to the cafeteria. It was amazing how much it meant to me, this simple touch, showing that he cared.

We arrived at Heather and Jesse’s table and he let my hand go. If they saw us holding hands, they didn’t say anything. Michael and I acted like friends but they must have noticed the way I behaved around him, the way my breath would catch whenever our eyes met, or the way my skin would burn if he stood or sat too close.

“May I join you?” It was Farouk. He had a girl with him. Her dark brown eyes were so intense they seemed to look right through me.

“Is this Fatima?” I asked.

“Hello, Mia,” she said. Although Farouk hadn’t mentioned it, she was a junior, the same year as him—which meant they must be twins. Her accent was less pronounced than her brother’s, but she had the same curly black hair—only hers was long and wild, giving her an exotic beauty.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” I said.

“Thanks.” She tugged at one of her curls, examining it. “It needs a trim.”

“I’m glad to have a chance to finally thank you for the necklace,” I said.

“You’re most welcome.” She grinned at me, then leaned forward to ask, “Did it help?”

I recalled having Damiel at my door, the hellhounds around my house, and the way the necklace had vibrated each time, some kind of warning. It must have been letting me know when I was in danger. “Yes, it did.”

“You might not need it so much now.” She glanced knowingly at Michael, who was chatting with Jesse. “But you never know.”

Could she see Michael, too? The way I did? I didn’t know how to ask without giving away his secret, so I kept quiet, almost awkwardly so, and looked out the window at the rain that wasn’t letting up.

Fatima and Farouk finished lunch early because they had to study for a biology exam. They left as the topic changed to our weekend plans.

“Hey, this weekend Kevin Foster’s parents are out of town and he’s throwing a big party,” Jesse said.

“How big?” Heather asked.

“Everyone’s invited. He’s got a huge place,” he said, looking at all of us. “You guys should come.”

I was eating a chicken salad that seemed oilier than usual. It slid down my throat and sat in my stomach like a lump.

“Who’s Kevin Foster?” I asked, not sure I wanted to go to a stranger’s party.

“He’s in his junior year at Sealth,” Jesse answered, then turned to Michael. “You remember his brother Dave? His parties?”

“Yes,” Michael said, gazing out over the cafeteria, absently keeping watch.

“Dude, you should come. It’ll be awesome.”

“Don’t think so.”

“Chloe will be disappointed.” Jesse gave him a suggestive smile.

Michael shot Jesse a look that silenced him. Jesse’s gaze darted quickly in my direction and then fixed on the table in front of him.

Who was Chloe?

Michael shifted in his seat and squeezed a packet of ketchup onto his plate. He had hardly touched his burger. I was going to ask right then and there who Chloe was, since everyone at the table seemed to know something about her. But Fiona and Dean joined us, holding hands, and Heather took the opportunity to break the awkward silence by chatting with them. Michael excused himself quietly and left.

For the rest of lunch, I listened to Heather and Jesse chat about the upcoming party with Fiona and Dean. I felt more out of place than ever. While Heather managed to look mystified—she didn’t know anything about Chloe—Jesse ignored me. It was as though the space I occupied no longer existed. As soon as lunch was over, he took off.

I asked Heather, “Who’s Chloe?”

“I’ve never heard of her, but I can ask Jesse if you want,” she offered.

“No. Let me try Michael first. I think I need to hear it from him.”

In English class, Michael sneaked in a few minutes late. We were still reading Hamlet, and Mr. Bidwell called on me to read Ophelia’s lines in Act III Scene II. In the scene, Ophelia was upset over the way Hamlet had been treating her. I could relate. After all, who was this Chloe, and why did Michael walk away after her name was mentioned? Jesse was reading Hamlet. Ophelia’s lines were short, but I read them right at Michael, hoping for a reaction of some sort. I got none.

After class, Michael caught up with me. “I’m on duty after school today,” he said, “but I can drive you home.”

“Who’s Chloe?”

He scanned the crowded halls to see if anyone was listening and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Dave and Kevin’s older sister.”

“You know what I mean! Why did the conversation– How much older?”

“She’s in her third year of college now, I think.”

Third year of college—that meant she was Bill’s age. Michael had dated older women. I could never compete with that. “Were you seeing her?”

Grabbing my arm, he guided me into the nearest empty room, the chemistry lab. All the tables were clear, and someone had lined beakers and bottles in neat rows along the shelves. He closed the door before he spoke. “I haven’t seen her since before the accident.”

“Were you…?”

“I was drunk. We both were.”

“And?”

He leaned against the desk at the front of the room, his hands gripping the wooden desktop so tightly that the veins popped at his wrists. Tilting his chin, Michael looked up at me, and I knew without a doubt that something had happened between them.

My stomach lurched, and the chemical smell in the air hit the back of my throat like I was going to be sick. I leaned against one of the tables to steady myself.

“I was much different then,” he said. “She was a friend… It was before everything.”

“How could it be before everything?”

“You know what I mean. Mia, please…” He reached for my hand, but stopped. I wished he hadn’t.

“Look. I know we have this ancient history and all, but—”

“Nine thousand years,” he said plainly.

If he planned to distract me, it worked. My mind reeled with the thought. “Is that how long—?”

“Do you really think that one night at a party could compare to that? I was very drunk… We both were. I hardly remember it.” He looked maddeningly far away. Was he thinking about her?

Hot, furious tears filled my eyes. I wiped them away with my sleeve, aching to be close to him and knowing my words and actions were pushing him away. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help but think about her and how she would know him, be close to him, in a way I never could.

“I wasn’t the same person then.” He leaned closer to me and the presence of his halo, warm and tingly, soothed my skin—even through my clothes.

“No,” I said, shaking the feeling off. “From what you tell me, you were exactly the same person; it was just your spirit that was different.”

“A person is both,” he said firmly. His halo still hovered around me, even though I refused the sensation. I wanted to feel cold. Alone. He sighed. “I told you, Mia. My sin was lust. If you think this is bad—”

“You just said you were a different person then.”

Slouching, he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed to the side of the room, moving even farther away. “Please, you’re making too much out of it. This, this was nothing compared to—”

“How can you even say that to me?” I cut him off, more loudly than I expected. I was going too far but couldn’t stop myself. “Are you really that unfeeling?”

His halo flickered and dimmed. The effect made the glass bottles on the shelves behind him appear to shake. What I’d said had hurt. He ran his hands down his face and drew in a deep breath.

“I can’t argue with you about this,” he said and walked out of the room.

My insides jumped and stung like I’d swallowed a hornet’s nest. I stood in the classroom and cried. Outside, the rain had stopped but the sky was covered in a blanket of clouds, and though I was indoors, wind rushing through the trees chilled right through my bones. It seemed to take forever for the halls to empty so nobody would see me leave.

Since Labor Day, I’d been avoiding the park. But now the hellhounds had been caught. The muddy trails were slick and covered in wet leaves, so I had to watch my step. Above me hung a thick canopy of evergreens that made it seem more evening than afternoon.

Our argument played over and over in my head. No matter how I looked at it, I’d overreacted. It happened before he even met me, and yet I was insanely jealous of this girl I’d never met, all because she knew him in a way that I never could. It had nothing to do with us. It was his past. But so much of us was the past, too. I’d clung to what little I knew of it, hoping that if he felt something for me back then, he might feel something for me now.

But it was too late. I’d hurt him. I may have even lost him—as a friend, or whatever we were to each other.

In the middle of the park, one of the trails veered off toward an empty playground. Swings blew sideways in the wind, their chains rasping like metallic ghosts. I sat on one and ran my heels along the wet grooves made by other people’s feet in the dirt. I didn't feel like swinging, but it was better than going home. Mom would know something was wrong and I didn’t want to talk about it, not yet.

Over the sound of creaking chains and whispering leaves, I didn’t notice anyone approach until I saw movement and light out of the corner of my eye. A mixture of emotions flooded me as Michael sat himself on the swing beside me: relief, shame, and even jealousy. His mouth was set in a straight line and a river of anger and sadness flowed off of him, both of which I was pretty sure I’d put there. He’d held my hand today. Had he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and come to tell me to get lost? Was this it? Was I going to lose him?

His voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke. “If you can’t accept this, I don’t know how you can ever accept the past.”

“It’s different,” I said.

“It is. We’d both been drinking, but it was her choice.” He turned his swing toward mine and the metal hinges creaked. The wind caught his hair. “That night. You deserve so much better.”

Hearing him talk about it only made me feel worse. I started to cry. “It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s that I’ll never…” The tears choked out of me in embarrassing sobs. How could I tell him that I’d always want more? And the fact that he’d been with someone when I couldn’t be with him at all was almost unbearable for me?

And then he got it. Somehow, intuitively, he understood. Standing, he lifted me to my feet and took me in his arms. He kissed my hair, my forehead, making me shiver inside. When he whispered my ancient name, “Sajani,” his voice came out in deep, low tones like a cello, and the force of it echoed through me. “You were with me that way.”

I sobbed, heated by his arms, as a blissful thrum of energy flowed between us. His hands shook as he stroked my hair, gently rocked me until I cried myself out. When I was done, he took me by the hand and walked me home as the shock of a blood-orange sunset broke through the clouds.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning at school was soured by Heather arguing with Jesse over bringing up the subject of Chloe in the first place. Fortunately, they made up at lunch. At least things with Fiona seemed to be good. People were acting normal around her again, and she and Dean were closer than ever. She’d stopped flirting with other guys. Though I was happy for her, I was still a bit sad.

Michael wasn’t at school, and his absence made me irrationally suspicious. My night had been filled with crazy jealous dreams of him sleeping with every girl in school but me—even Elaine—as if I meant nothing to him. Though they were only dreams, they reminded me that I would never be able to be close to him that way. The way all my friends could be with their boyfriends. The fact that Michael and I were destined to be only friends ate at me like acid in my veins.

When I got home after school, Mom was just getting up, having spent a few days changing her sleep patterns to prepare for the overnight shift. I made us chicken curry for dinner—which I’d been craving lately—and we ate together in the dining room instead of our usual spot in front of the TV.

“Mia, I think we need to talk,” she said after we’d finished eating.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Conversations with Mom that started with We need to talk usually sucked. The next line was usually something like Your father and I are going to live apart for a while or We’re moving to Seattle.

“You know you have the house to yourself tonight,” she said. When I nodded, waiting for the bomb to drop, she continued, “I’ve noticed that you and Michael have been spending a lot of time together. I remember being your age—”

“Mom!”

“Mia,” she said back. “I can see that you really like this boy. But I don’t want you to rush into anything just because the opportunity may present itself.”

“Mom, it’s not like that.” I squirmed, unable to believe I was having this conversation, that she was using the we need to talk code for my non-existent sex life. After everything I’d been through with Michael over Chloe, this had to be some kind of cruel joke. I didn’t even know when I’d see him again outside of school.

“Okay. I don’t want to have to make rules about when he can come over. Can I rely on you to be sensible about it? Make sure he goes home at a decent hour if he visits?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be sensible.” And if I wasn’t, he’d only run away again.

“I’ve seen too many teenage pregnancies in my line of work.”

“We’re just friends. Really.”

“Oh,” she said, and for a moment I thought she’d have the good sense to stop but I was wrong. “Well, if that changes, you remember our talks about this? You’ll make sure to stay protected?”

God, would this conversation never end? “Yes. If it does—which it won’t—I will.” She had only told me about a hundred times since I turned twelve, for all the good it would do now.

And then, finally, she decided it was time to leave. Having not heard from Michael all day, I prepared myself for a long, boring night with my textbooks. Unable to decide whether to do my Latin or Gov/Econ reading first, I curled up on the sofa with both of them. I had just finished reading a chapter when the doorbell rang.

Jumpier than I expected, I checked who it was through the kitchen window, and when I realized it was Michael I rushed to the door. Still embarrassed about my outburst the day before, I greeted him nervously and invited him in.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just homework. Why? Do you have the night off or something?”

“I never technically have a night off, but I’m only on call tonight.”

Never had a night off? God must be one hell of an employer!

He made his way toward the kitchen area and leaned against the counter. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah. My mom’s working the night shift.”

“She works them a lot?” he asked.

I leaned on the counter beside him. “She has to support us.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” Folding his arms across his chest, he looked down at me, his eyes hooded and soft. In that moment, I couldn’t tell if he was asking because he was curious or if it was part of his job as an angel.

Either way, I didn’t want to answer. The truth would make me sound needy, and Heather said guys hated that. I was pretty sure my dad did.

I shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

He didn’t press the subject. “Well, there’s something I want to show you tonight.” He scanned my outfit thoughtfully. “Though you’ll need to dress more warmly than that.”

My cheeks pinked from his appraisal. “What exactly am I dressing for?”

“We’ll be outside—near the water.”

I went back to my room to change. Out my window, the sky had cleared and a ring of blue light circled the almost-full moon. Thinking a moonlit walk on the beach would be nice, I put on a few extra layers, trying to make sure everything matched and didn’t look bulky.

Michael was sitting on the kitchen counter reading the paper. When I came out, he looked up. “Much better. I don’t want you getting cold.”

“What about you?” I asked, noting he wore only jeans and a sweatshirt, whereas I was in layers of polar fleece.

He slid off the counter in such as way as to make even that look graceful. “I’ll be warm enough, trust me.”

He removed his sweatshirt and tied it around his waist. Underneath, he wore a white tank with a t-shaped back that showed off the muscles in his arms and shoulders. Golden light sparkled and flickered between his shoulder blades.

He opened the door and held it for me, waiting. “Ready?”

“For?”

“I’m taking you flying.”

“Flying? Wait. Flying flying? You don’t mean in a plane, do you?”

“No.” His smile grew brighter and fuller as he watched my realization that he would be flying me sink in. “Do you want to?” When I hesitated before nodding, he asked, “Are you scared?”

“Yeah. A bit.” Actually I was scared a lot, but the idea of seeing his wings more than made up for it.

“You’ll be safe. I promise,” he said, closing the door behind me.

When I stepped out onto the front yard, he scooped me up into his arms as though I were weightless, like that day I’d injured my ankle in the woods. Marveling at the strength it must take to do that, I swallowed a girlish squeak.

“Ready?” he asked.

As soon as I nodded my answer, he bent his legs and leapt into the air, taking me with him. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of my stomach. I fought the urge to scream as the ground disappeared beneath us, the houses and lights shrinking at a dizzying rate.

“Relax. You’re safe,” Michael said. “Breathe.”

I was so fixated on the ground speeding away from us that every muscle in my body tensed. I forgot I’d been holding my breath and gasped for air. Although Michael’s arms were strong and solid beneath me, I needed something to hold on to, so I linked my arms around his shoulders. Even in the cold air, his skin was warm to the touch.

And that was when I saw his wings. In the past, I’d only seen a faint blue outline around him or blue gossamer around Arielle. Nothing, not even my dreams or memories, prepared me for how his wings really looked. They were huge, not white exactly, more iridescent, with a featherlike covering that reflected all the rainbow colors, even in the dark. They weren’t actual feathers, not the kind you’d see on a bird; they were filaments of solid light. Joining at his back, they stretched out at least ten feet on either side from base to tip. Beating powerfully behind us, they made a sound in the air like wind hitting silk sails.

“Can people see us?” I asked. The wind rushed my ears and I had to speak loudly even to hear myself.

Grinning, he shook his head. “Don’t want to set off Homeland Security.” For the first time, I noticed that his halo had enveloped both of us. It shimmered and rippled, a mirror reflecting the night sky. We were invisible.

While everything in me said that flying was impossible and that I should be terrified, I wasn’t afraid. The wind carried us so high that cars buzzed like fireflies on the streets below, and across Elliot Bay, the freighters and boats could have easily been toys. Michael swooped low over water reflecting distorted city lights and we glided under the West Seattle Bridge. His wings beating against the wind currents, we looped around and ascended again over the tall buildings of the downtown core.

The wind kicked up colder and whipped my hair against my face, and yet in his arms I was surprisingly warm. My blood thrummed through my veins. I looked at Michael’s face again and realized he was completely in his element, completely at ease. Flying was as much a part of him as breathing was for me. I was safe, and with his heart beating against the side of my ribs, the strength and warmth of his arms around me, I felt closer to him than ever.

After making another wide sweep of the harbor, we glided effortlessly back across the water to the beach at Lincoln Park. Although his landing was smooth and graceful, as soon as my feet touched the ground my knees buckled. Michael quickly grabbed my elbows to steady me.

“You okay?” He furled his wings securely behind him. “Did you have fun?”

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, so I nodded my response. My heart pounded wildly in my chest and I realized I was shaking. My whole body hummed with adrenaline; I had to remember to breathe.

“You’re sure?” He released my elbows and backed away from me. “You can stand on your own?”

I had foal legs, but I could stand. The edges of his halo shimmered as he tucked it around himself, and his wings shifted to their blue outline as though he had sheathed them with the air.

“It was amazing!” I said once I found my voice. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Walk a bit. It’ll help you adjust to being on the ground again.”

He took my hand, dispelling any cold from the night air, and we strolled along a dimly-lit path that followed the rocky shore. His wings stretched out behind us as iridescent as starlight, visible only to me. Since it was the first clear night in days, there were a few other people on the path and Michael adjusted his wings to avoid touching them.

“How do your wings work?” I asked after I’d fully recovered from flight. “I usually see them as a blue outline, but when we were flying they were more real.”

“They’re inter-dimensional.”

“They’re what?” I asked in disbelief.

“They exist in another place, a different dimension so to speak, and I bring them into this one when I fly.”

I was completely baffled.

“It might be better if I show you,” he said, walking us out onto the beach, away from the street lights, out of the view of the ferries and houses in the distance. “We’re going to be invisible for a bit. Best to not attract attention.”

His halo tingled as he extended it around both of us, its phosphorescence rippling against the dark sky. A golden light glimmered behind him, extending from his back, and the blue outline of his wings flickered. Then, soundlessly as morning snow, his wings appeared, as though pulled from an invisible sheath.

He unfurled them, and such a sense of peace and stillness came over me. Full and white, they were glorious. Observing them filled me with a sense of wonder, as though I were witnessing something profound and exquisite, so much greater than myself. Their presence humbled me, made me realize that everything I’d ever known or believed was a tiny piece of a greater, more magnificent whole, and I was honored to even be a part of it.

Studying my face, Michael closed his wings and took a few steps toward me. “This isn’t too much, is it?”

I smiled at him and fought the strange urge to cry. It wasn’t from sadness but more the way a beautiful sunset might affect you if you’d been blind your whole life and were suddenly able to see it. Silently, Michael retracted his halo and slid his wings back to their usual placement, all the while observing me as though expecting me to  freak out.

The wind picked up, blowing through my hair. Not wanting it to tangle further, I finger-combed it and tied it into a braid, wishing I’d done that before we went flying. I had a few tangles but was lucky it wasn’t a mass of knots. Not having an elastic band, I used a piece of my own hair to secure the end and then tucked the mass into my collar. It wouldn’t last long, but it would have to do.

Michael leaned against a nearby rock, still watching me. With the orange-cast light from the street lamp playing off his skin, shadowing the muscles of his shoulders and arms, and the flickering of golden light his halo cast around him, he looked positively heroic, like a statue of an ancient god.

“Where to now?” I asked, approaching him.

The wind had swept his hair into a tangle of curls splayed in every direction, forming a dark, shadowy crown of their own. I reached over to smooth it, like doing so was the most natural thing in the world, and he brushed his hand up my spine. Even through my jacket, a burning heat coursed through me. Touching the back of my head, he found my braid and pulled it out from my jacket. He twisted it between his fingers, examining it, then looked up at me, his gaze open, unguarded, his pupils as wide and black as the night sky. A flush warmed the back of my neck and I stood there mesmerized by him, unable to look away.

Arcing his other arm around me, he pulled me toward him and whispered, “I shouldn’t,” against the side of my face, as though it were a confession. Then, his lips cool and salty from the sea air, he kissed me with such tenderness it made my chest ache.

But I didn’t need tenderness. I needed him. Since the last time we’d kissed, I’d been so careful around him, trying not to cross the invisible line that would either damn him or scare him away. I couldn’t be careful anymore. Gripping the front of his shirt, I pulled him closer, and he locked his arms around me like I’d always wanted him to, like maybe he’d never let me go. Sitting on the rock, he gathered me into him, sliding me onto his lap. My thighs straddled his hips and he let out the softest of moans, his lips grazing my throat, the side of my neck, the line of my jaw, before returning to mine.

With a sharp inhale, he tensed and stopped kissing me. His eyes flashed a warning look—full of fear, as though he’d gone somewhere fathomless inside himself that he’d sworn he’d never go. Standing, he guided me off his lap. When he spoke, his voice took on a deep timbre.

“We’re not alone.”