Blest Page 8

  “So . . . a demon. You want to be a demon.”

  He twisted to face her again. “I want to be what I’m supposed to be! I just want to be with people who won’t disappear for once.”

  Claire went quiet once more, letting the silence settle heavily around them as they started walking again.

  After about twenty minutes, their house came into view. Claire sighed in relief. But as they got closer, Claire caught sight of her mom’s Volvo, and her heart stopped. The trunk was popped open and one cardboard box was already sitting in it. She had a sudden, strangling fear, that feeling she got whenever she saw boxes in a car. It meant she had to quickly shed all of the things she had become, hop into a car, and try to become someone else, somewhere else.

  “What the hell?” Gunner said under his breath, and sped up the wooden stairs leading to the kitchen. Claire sprinted after him. The kitchen was empty. Gunner slipped into the hall and she heard his feet pounding the stairs to the second floor.

  “Mom?” he yelled. “Mom, where are you?”

  A door slammed open. Claire ran up the stairs after him, her heart racing, and took a sharp corner into their mom’s room. Inside, Gloria was huddled over a half-packed suitcase on the bed, face in her hands. Clothes were littered across the carpet. Gunner stood behind her, his hands balled into fists.

  “We can’t stay here!” Gloria wailed. “Not after what you two have done!”

  “What, become what we were supposed to be?” Gunner challenged.

  Their mom looked up at him, her eyes red from crying. She sniffed. “You think you’re supposed to be a demon? I tried to spare you this. After all I—”

  “After you made us run away from our real family, over and over!” Gunner shouted. “You made sure we were as isolated and alone as possible!”

  “Gunner.” Gloria gasped. “That’s never what I meant to happen. But you . . . you’re right.” She stood up, her voice broken. “You have a new family now. I’m leaving, before he gets here.”

  “No!” Gunner lunged at her, his hands connecting with Gloria’s shoulders, and slammed her back into the wall.

  “Gunner!” Claire shrieked, wrenching his arm as hard as she could to try to get him off of her.

  He whipped around. Claire thought he was going to push her, too, but then something flashed in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled at Gloria. “You’re our mom, and we’re a family.” Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the door as he left.

  Claire ran to Gloria, whose shoulders shook with silent sobs.

  “Mom?” Claire asked. “Mom, are you okay?’

  “Nothing’s going to be okay now,” Gloria whispered.

  Claire stared for a moment at her mom, then turned and went down the hall into her own room. She wove her way between all the still-packed boxes to stand in front of her mirror and look at her red wings. Gunner was convinced that this was who they were supposed to be. Her mom was convinced they had made a terrible mistake. Who was right? She took a breath, trying to steady herself and stared back into the mirror. As she lost herself in her own tired gaze, she noticed something on her left wing. A single, white feather, shining like a tiny sun in her dark room.

  9

  On the bus, Jim passed Shane without looking at him. Even so, he could feel Shane’s eyes on him. It seemed so strange that he had never seen Shane’s wings before—even from the back of the bus, they stuck out beside Maria’s like big, red flags.

  There was no sign of Claire or Gunner, which made Jim feel both relief and disappointment. He wondered what Claire looked like with her new wings, and whether she hated him. To distract himself, Jim took out his notebook and tried to scribble something else, anything else. But all he could draw were feathers.

  Right before lunch, during History, Jim felt like he was sleepwalking. Luckily, Miles took the seat next to him as Mrs. Darcy droned on about The American Revolution. Miles chattered at a rate of about two thousand words per second, peppering his words with different hand gestures, like he was weaving a blanket in fast forward.

  “We were part of that, you know,” Miles whispered, pointing at the PowerPoint presentation gleaming at the front of the class. “We flew around at night and helped people dump all that tea into the ocean.”

  Jim looked at a grainy portrait of Benjamin Franklin dressed up as an Indian, his chin still in his hand as he tried to stay awake. “You’re saying that the angels were revolutionaries?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” Miles fiddled with his pencil until it broke in half.

  But then something else Miles had said stuck with him. “When do I get to fly?” he asked.

  “Soon. As long as humans aren’t around, you can fly straight into the clouds. Not too high, though, it’s really cold. And you could get hit by a plane. Or sucked into a jet engine, that would be a bummer. Then you’d be like angel confetti. Poof!” Miles spread his hands out violently.

  Jim laughed a little. “Wow.” He pictured spreading his arms on the top of the water tower and jumping, flying over the trees and leaving all of Pearlton behind. What did it feel like? Did you have to flap your wings like a bird or was it more like gliding?

  “Mr. Blest!”

  He jumped in his seat. The whole class was staring at him. He looked up at Mrs. Darcy sheepishly. She had her finger pointed straight at him.

  “Um . . . yes?” he asked.

  “Do you have an answer for me?”

  He panicked, feeling embarrassment rush through him like a fire. He hadn’t heard the question. Mrs. Darcy clucked her tongue.

  “1776, Mrs. Darcy,” Miles said, waving his hand. “The Declaration of Independence was written in 1776.”

  “Miles!” Mrs. Darcy sighed. She glared at Jim for a second, then turned back to point at the projector again.

  “Thanks,” Jim whispered.

  Miles just winked at him.

  Even without the flying, Jim thought, it was at least nice to finally have friends.

  When the bell rang and class ended, Miles invited Jim over his house to play a new game. “It’s called Hellfire, man,” he said breathlessly. “It’s so funny what these humans make up about demons. I think it’s so, I don’t know, ironic that I can kill all these virtual demons. Or what humans think as demons, right?” His voice dropped. “Everyone knows you can’t kill demons with a machine gun, only with the right kind of metals. But, whatever, it’s fun to mow them down, right?”

  Miles nudged Jim for agreement, but Jim couldn’t speak. Claire had appeared at the other end of the hall. She clutched her books to her chest. When she saw Jim, she looked at the floor. Her crimson wings glittered in the fluorescent hallway light. In a weird way, they were beautiful, mesmerizing, shining like rose petals after a morning rain.

  “Watch out,” Miles mumbled. “New demon. Too bad, she’s pretty hot.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jim muttered.

  Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he tried desperately to make eye contact with Claire. All he wanted was some confirmation that she was still thinking about him, some sign that he was in her thoughts as much as she was in his. But she didn’t even look at him as she passed. Jim felt a whirlwind of longing and hurt and confusion. He wanted to reach out and grab her. He could feel that same electric charge that he had felt at the water tower and at the lake, pulling him closer to her. As she disappeared behind him, he bit on his tongue and forced himself to not look back at her.

  He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he got to the end of the hall. Miles said something about grabbing his lunch and disappeared to the right. Jim’s shoulders sagged as he headed toward his locker. He took a few more steps, then stopped. He turned around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Claire, but all he saw was the empty hallway.

  A hand slammed over his mouth. He tried to shout in surprise, but someone jer
ked him straight into a supply closet, knocking over a bucket and sending a mop clattering. The door closed and there was only darkness. The hand let go of his mouth and, suddenly, a pair of lips pressed into his.

  “Jim,” Claire murmured. “I missed you.”

  He couldn’t help kissing her back for a moment, then reality rushed in and he gently pushed her away. “What are you doing? Just now . . . I thought . . . don’t you hate me?”

  “Shut up,” she said, slipping between his arms and kissing him again with an almost desperate hunger. Finally, they pulled away. Jim kept his hands wrapped around Claire’s waist, hoping he would never have to let her go.

  “Okay,” he said breathlessly. “But really. Why didn’t you even look at me in the hall?”

  “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m a demon. And you’re an angel. That means we’re supposed to hate each other.”

  “I can tell, with all the kissing we’ve been doing,” he said softly.

  “Be serious!” Claire gave him a little shove. “Do you hate me?”

  “No!” Jim said, shocked. “How can you even ask that?”

  “Good.” She rested her forehead against his. “I don’t hate you, either. So what are we going to do? We’re pretty bad at the demon-angel thing.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “This is dangerous, though. The demons are violent. I couldn’t imagine what they would do if they found out about us. Or what Gunner would do.”

  “He’s probably just confused,” Jim said, pulling her closer against him. “I know I am.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Claire trailed off.

  “What?” Jim asked.

  The class bell rang. Claire’s arm tightened around his wrist. “Jim,” she said urgently. “Will you stay with me, even though you know what I am?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I might not be sure about choosing to get my wings, or being an angel or anything else, but I’m sure of how I feel about you. No matter what.”

  She kissed his neck and opened the closet door. The light shimmered on her red wings. “Good. Because I have a feeling this is going to be a lot harder than we think. Now wait before you come out, in case anyone sees us together.” As she closed the door again and slipped away down the hall, Jim thought he caught a flash of one white feather glowing against all her red ones. He smiled a little.

  After a few seconds, he finally felt like it was safe to leave the closet, and reemerged into the bright white lights of the hall.

  In a daze, he staggered to his locker and opened it, grabbing the crumpled paper bag that contained his PB&J sandwich. He could still feel Claire’s lips on his, her ghost haunting him, her voice filling his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut. How was he supposed to do this?

  “Dude, there you are!”

  Jim turned to see Miles and Nora standing at the corner of the hallway. “What were you doing? Cooking a steak for lunch? Let’s go, I’m starving!” Miles whipped around and led them to the cafeteria. Jim tried to make conversation with Nora by asking if there any more signs of the planewalker, but instantly regretted it.

  “Oh, so many signs!” She pounded her fist into her hand. “This is really, really exciting. There haven’t been reports of a planewalker for decades, maybe more.”

  “Nothing more exciting than a super-powerful demon moving in next door,” Miles mumbled.

  “That’s not why it’s exciting!” Nora glared at her brother. “But if we could track him down and capture him, we could figure out how he got out of Slag. And what Slag is like.”

  Miles shrugged as they marched down a staircase, coming closer to the roar of the cafeteria crowd. “I already know what Slag is like: bad.”

  As they walked into the cafeteria, the demons—who had taken a table right in the middle—all tracked them with their eyes. Including Claire. Jim stared back at her, stunned, but she didn’t budge. From this distance, she looked like any of the other red-winged, blank-faced demons. For a moment, it felt like their kiss in the supply closet was something he’d dreamed.

  He looked away from Claire, only to lock eyes with Gunner. There was something different about him. The friendly, mischievous grin had disappeared, like traces of sunlight on water that faded with passing clouds. Gunner looked at Jim for a moment, then turned away as if he couldn’t be bothered. Shane leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and Gunner barked out a laugh.

  “They got two new demons, and all we got was you? How is that fair?” Miles moaned. He looked at Jim and smiled. “No offense, man.”

  “None taken.” He followed Miles to a table nearby, where Sydney was sitting with Leo.

  “About freaking time!” Leo said, his mouth full of French fries. “We’re getting stared to death over here.”

  “Leo, close your mouth when you chew!” Nora scolded, sitting next to him.

  Leo rolled his eyes and shoveled another handful of fries into his mouth.

  Jim tried hard not to look at the demons sitting across from them, but it was practically impossible. He kept seeing the gleam of red wings from the corner of his eye, as if the right side of the cafeteria was on fire. During lunch, the angels mostly talked about how much they hated the demons. “All they want is chaos among the humans, so they can control them,” Sydney explained. “They’d be happy if the humans had no laws, no rulers, no government. Nothing to protect them from the demons as they take over. Thank Glisten for the Tribunal.”

  “The Tribunal?” Jim asked.

  “The Tribunal has powers that other angels don’t,” Nora explained. “Lord Castile, Lord Valas, and Lady Ichallas have ruled Glisten for thousands of years. They created the earthquake that sank Atlantis and turned it into Slag, and they’re the only ones with the power to banish demons there.”

  “But if the demons are such a threat, why doesn’t the Tribunal just banish all of them to Slag?” Jim asked, puzzled.

  Sydney shrugged. “Even in Glisten, nothing is perfect. There are disagreements between the three of them all the time. And rumors that they hate each other. I think they all have separate agendas, and it takes all three of them to banish a demon.”

  “So instead they decided that a Pact would make things easier?” Jim asked.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Demons who get caught breaking the Pact are banished to Slag by the Tribunal. Which is why even though Shane pretends to be all badass, he wouldn’t ever actually do anything. It’s too risky.”

  Jim scratched the back of his neck. “But what about, like, if we didn’t hate the demons? What if one of them wasn’t so bad and we could . . .” He trailed off when he saw that they were all staring at him in shock.

  “You mean be friends with those . . . those creatures over there?” Nora asked in horror.

  “Jim,” Sydney said, her face deadly serious, “don’t ever say that again. Do you know how many Guardians have died because the demons have broken Pacts before? Do you know how close we’ve come to just never trying for peace again? Demons can’t be trusted. As soon as their wings come in, it’s like there’s fire in their blood or something. Even if you think you can trust them, they’ll turn on you eventually.”

  “But—”

  “Dude.” Leo wiped French fry grease from his mouth with the back of his arm. “Trust me, they already tried everything. It’s been thousands of years. One time, I think it was Lady Ichallas, she thought love would be the answer.” He cackled, throwing his head back. “This angel and demon, they fell in love. They had a kid. A half-angel, half-demon kid!”

  “—she was named Annabelle,” Nora said, picking up speed with every word. “Annabelle the Viper, that’s what she’s called now. She could cause plagues. The Black Death in Europe? All her. She thought that cities were getting too crowded and human population was getting out of control. And that was her solution. Like, a third of the population in Europe was wiped out because of her. Children died in the
streets, entire cities fell apart.”

  “The point is that even if a demon could be trusted, which they can’t,” Sydney said, “we can never risk that kind of thing happening again. People that are half-angel, half-demon always end up going insane from being torn between two different planes. And then they abuse their power. A lot.”

  Jim chewed on his lower lip, trying not to think of Claire, of the future they could never have together.

  Miles sighed and opened a bag of cookies. “Can we talk about something else? I’m trying to enjoy my sugar high over here, not talk about Slag’s Greatest Hits.” He held out a cookie to Jim. “Want one?”

  Jim managed to smile and reached out for the cookie. He had to take things one step at a time. Normally at this time, he would be eating under the steps by the gym, the best spot at Pearlton for sitting alone. Now, for the first time, he actually had a group of friends to eat with, tease him, share food. It just sucked that the price of his new friends was pretending to hate Claire. Because he knew he couldn’t do it. He knew he had to be with her, somehow.

  He glanced over at the demons just as Claire snuck a look at him—and his breath caught in his throat. Claire immediately looked away, shaking her head. Jim sighed, feeling as if his whole body was deflating. This is how it has to be, he reminded himself. But for how long?

  10

  Roofs were a lot higher than you thought. That’s what Jim decided as he burst into the cold, autumn night with Leo, climbing the ladder that led out through Sydney’s attic. They stood on the sloped shingles of the house, looking out over the lake, the water shimmering purple with the evening sky. Leo licked his finger and stuck it out in the air. “Dude, no wind! This is perfect flying weather for a newbie. The wind can help, for sure, but this way you can learn the basics without getting thrown into a tree.”

  “Great, I definitely want to try and avoid that,” Jim said. A rush of adrenaline surged through him. Flying. He was actually going to be able to go higher than the water tower. He looked down at the three-story drop and gulped. Sydney’s driveway was gloomy below him. He would either fly, or drop down like a boulder. He moved his arms experimentally, feeling the air pass through his wings. Right now, the boulder option seemed more likely.