by Sara Snow
Jacob’s gray t-shirt was still damp from his workout, and the ends of his wavy hair were tipped with sweat.
“I bet I could take you down right now,” I said. “You’re totally wiped out from lifting a few weights.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Jacob grinned. “Are you sure you want to have your ass kicked again?”
“I have no intention of letting that happen. Let’s go.”
The first time Jacob and I wrestled, he had the advantage from the beginning. He knew all the right moves to dominate me, all the techniques for wearing me down and exhausting me into submission.
Today, I was ready for him. Instead of bracing myself and resisting Jacob’s strength, I let my muscles relax. I moved fluidly through his arms and legs as he tried to pin me, saving my energy for the climax.
Gravity helped me out as we rolled on the mat. His body was so much heavier than mine that he could easily hold me down, but once we were in motion, I was able to use his weight against him. I kept my mind focused on our match, trying not to notice how fast his heart was beating when he held me down with his torso, or how hard his muscles felt when he squeezed my hips between his thighs.
Face down on the mat, I let my body go limp. I wanted Jacob to think I was surrendering, so I could whip around and throw him off as soon as he let down his guard.
Still restraining me with his thighs, Jacob slid his hands along my back. When he lifted my shirt and began to explore my skin with his fingers, I knew it wasn’t by accident.
“That feels more like a massage than a wrestling move, Jacob. Does this mean you’re giving up?”
“I’ll never give up,” Jacob said softly. “I’m just finding it hard to concentrate. Is this okay?”
He kneaded my back with his palms and fingertips, using the strength of his arms to apply deep pressure to my muscles. A moan seeped from my lips. I hadn’t realized how sore my body was from all the torture and training I’d been through. For a moment, I let go and just basked in the sensations he was creating.
It’s a trap, girlfriend. He’s going to pin you with a Boston crab or some other freaky wrestling hold. Go!
But when I tried to break free, Jacob released me. He helped me reposition my body so that we were lying face to face with his weight gently bearing down on me. I could feel how hard he was when he lowered his body between my thighs.
I had a vision of us intertwined, my legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into me, gazing down at me with that look of radiant joy that told me he believed I was beautiful.
Carter never looks at me like that. Everything I do is wrong. Every move I make has to be corrected—by him, of course.
When Jacob kissed me, I was ready and waiting for him. That kiss started as a soft, tentative greeting, our lips barely brushing each other, but it quickly deepened into a lush, warm exploration. I reached under his t-shirt to touch his warm, moist skin, and felt his muscles ripple in response.
He held my head as he kissed me and wrapped my hair around his fist, tugging at the roots just hard enough to evoke a hint of pain. I raised my knees and pulled his hips close to mine, and we began to move together in a fluid rhythm.
Jacob’s breathing quickened, and I could feel his temperature rise when I stroked his back. I let my hands glide down to his buttocks. He groaned, and though I knew we were entering dangerous territory, I felt so secure in his arms that I didn’t feel the urge to put on the brakes.
Wait a second. Did I just feel . . . wings?
My fingers crept back up Jacob’s spine. I felt around in the grooves below his shoulder blades and touched two unmistakable bumps. Both bumps were covered with puckered skin that felt like scar tissue. Along the grooves of his scapulae, I felt twin ridges tucked under his skin.
Suddenly, Jacob stiffened. His whole body recoiled. I yanked my hands away.
“I’m sorry—did I hurt you?”
Jacob pulled away and looked down at me. His mouth was still soft, and his eyes were misty with desire. But the current of urgency that had coursed through his body a few seconds ago was gone.
“You caught me,” he said. His voice was flat, nothing like the usual Jacob at all.
“Can you fly with those?”
He shook his head. “Not very well. The wings were never fully formed, and they still don’t expand as fast as they should. It’s one of the disadvantages of having a human parent. Or having an angelic parent—I’m not sure which is worse.”
Jacob broke away and sat up. He peeled off his shirt and turned around, showing me the full length of his bare back. I could see the skeletal structure of his wings, tucked in against his shoulders and extending down either side of his rib cage.
“If you were really in danger, would they come out?” I asked. I reached out to trace the network of ridges, but he inched away before I could touch him and pulled his shirt back down.
“I’ve never had to use them in any life-threatening situations. I just try them out every now and then for fun.” He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes that I’d never seen before.
“To be totally honest, I’ve always felt like a freak. I’m not fully human, but I’m not really an angel, either. I can’t explain what I am, even to myself.”
Jacob seemed so vulnerable all of a sudden, so raw.
He doesn’t see those wings as a gift. He sees them as a deformity.
“I know exactly how you feel,” I said. “I never felt like I belonged anywhere, even before I knew that my father was a demon. Now it all makes sense, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about what I am.”
“Do you think meeting your mother is going to help?”
I turned over on my side and propped my head up on my elbow. The erotic charge between us was no longer there, but in a strange way, I felt more connected to him now than ever.
“The closer we get, the more I feel like this isn’t about me. Not the human side of me, anyway. It’s almost as if this meeting was written down somewhere, like in one of those books your dad keeps in his library. We’re all moving towards something that’s much bigger than we imagine.”
“That sounds pretty scary. Are you sure you want to go through with it?”
“At this point, I don’t have a choice.”
“Then neither do I,” Jacob said. He leaned over and softly kissed my cheek. “There’s a lot of danger out there. Way more than I realized. But we’ll face it together. You and your superpowers, me and my bow and arrow.”
He chucked me under the chin. I laughed, but the dread in my heart was growing. When I’d started planning this trip, I thought we all had a choice. I thought we could all make decisions about who would go, and where, and what we would do.
Now I could see that we were all being pulled down a long, dark tunnel toward something so mysterious that its essence blinded me.
12
Carter
Back at the warehouse, I started packing a bag for the road trip. I hadn’t traveled much in the past few years, and I felt lost as I stared at the empty suitcase. Every time I’d been on the road, it seemed that I’d been searching for members of my human family.
This trip wouldn’t be much different, except the family wasn’t mine.
I threw a pair of black jeans and a few shirts into the suitcase. I was really more concerned with the weapons we would need. At this point, none of us fully understood the magnitude of the threat we faced. We could see our future in the distance, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, but we wouldn’t know how bad the weather would get until we were smack in the middle of the lightning and thunder.
My small heap of clothes looked pretty pathetic tossed in the suitcase. I hadn’t acquired much in the way of possessions over the years. A Swiss army knife, a wristwatch, a leather wallet, and a ring I had inherited from my mother’s grandfather were the only valuables I owned. Those items and a few pairs of jeans, socks, and underwear would be all that was left if Paimon pulverized me into smoke.
&
nbsp; From what I knew about the heritage of my vampire bloodline, most of which Kingston had told me, my immortality wasn’t worth shit if Paimon and his buddies penetrated my heart with an iron crucifix. The crucifix had to be blessed with holy water, and the chances of the Tenebris finding a sanctified religious object that could double as a murder weapon were probably slim.
But at this point, I wouldn’t put anything past Paimon, not with Georgia involved.
I flopped down on my bed and closed my eyes. It would take a little time for my cells to absorb the nutrients in Twyla’s blood. With pure human blood, the absorption was much faster, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
If I didn’t have a conscience, my life would be so much easier.
It had to be my father who had gifted me with the ability to feel guilt. I know Leora didn’t possess that gift, nor did she want to. She drained her human lovers dry in every respect, sucking away their blood, their time, their energy, and their financial resources. If she ever felt an iota of remorse, she sure as hell didn’t show it.
I remembered her sitting at her vanity table, smearing cold cream over her eternally youthful skin, gloating over her latest conquests.
The last one left me five hundred dollars, Carter. Wasn’t that sweet of him? And this beautiful gold ring with an emerald setting. I’m taking this straight to the pawn shop. It’s got to be worth at least two grand.
Even at the age of eight, I knew that none of these “gifts” had been given willingly. My mom stole from those men, and she considered all of those thefts her trophies.
Meanwhile, her son was lying in his bed, feeling drenched with guilt over feeding from another vampire. Try as I might, I’d never be good enough for Georgia. My heritage doomed me to need frequent blood feedings, and unless she offered herself up as a sacrifice to my hunger, I would always feel the need to seek out other prey.
You’re putting the cart before the horse, buddy. Georgia doesn’t even like you at this point. She tried to kill you with a flying mace. So, don’t worry about her.
In spite of my overwhelming guilt, my eyelids were growing heavy, and I drifted off into one of the craziest dreams I could remember.
I was standing in a grove of trees surrounded by the rest of the team. Kingston and Eli were there, beaming with pride. Olympia wore a wreath of flowers in her hair and a white tunic like a Greek goddess. Jose stood in the background, smiling.
“Congratulations on your wedding, friend,” Kingston said. “We’re just waiting for your bride.”
Everyone stared up at the sky. I followed their gazes and saw Georgia descending from the heavens in all her demonic glory, black hair streaming behind her, purple eyes wild. A pair of heavy black wings stirred the skies above her head as she hovered over us in the air, spewing flames and turning the wedding party into a deadly inferno.
Kingston turned to me and laughed hysterically as the flames consumed him. A crown of fire erupted on his head, and his handsome face became a mask of blackened flesh.
“My mistake, old friend. This isn’t your wedding. We’re celebrating Georgia’s veritatem!”
The sound of Kingston’s laughter echoed in my head as I watched him go up in a pillar of fire. Georgia swooped down and seized my shoulders with long, claw-like fingers. Screeching in triumph, she shook me violently, back and forth, back and forth, until my brain rattled in my head.
“Carter! Hey, are you asleep?”
I woke to find Jose standing over me. He had me by the shoulders and was trying to shake me back into consciousness.
“Yeah, I was asleep, but not anymore, thank god. You just did me a huge favor, Jose. I was having one doozy of a nightmare.”
“So was I.” Jose sank down and sat on the edge of my bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
“Tell me what happened.”
Jose’s dreams had always been powerful, but lately it seemed that every time he fell asleep, he had harrowing visions that wracked his body and mind.
He lifted his head and looked at me.
“You know how I feel about Georgia, don’t you?” Jose asked. “She means a lot to me.”
“She’s pretty great—most of the time,” I agreed. “Did you dream about her?”
Jose nodded.
“That makes two of us. I was dreaming about her, too. Tell me your dream, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Well, she was here at the warehouse,” Jose began, “but she didn’t look like herself. Her eyes were red, not purple, and she wore a crown with candles on it, like a birthday cake. She held a sword in her right hand. She lifted the sword, and we saw that it was on fire. She walked through the warehouse tapping things with the sword. Everything—and everyone—she touched caught on fire.”
Jose paused, as if he were struggling to find the words to describe his vision.
“Go on,” I said. “What happened next?”
“She started laughing. She just stood there laughing like a maniac while we all burned.”
A chill ran through my body. There were too many similarities between my dream and Jose’s for this to be a coincidence. There was a reason we’d had almost identical dreams, both of them starring Georgia in the role of an evil maniac who wielded fire as a weapon.
“You know, Jose, your dreams always have something true about them. But that doesn’t mean they’re literally true,” I said, desperately scrambling around in my mind to find something reassuring to say.
I saw skepticism in Jose’s dark eyes. He wasn’t buying my bullshit.
“Maybe Georgia’s crown and sword stood for something. Like her coming into her power,” I said. “And when she tapped us with her sword, she was giving us her blessing.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jose said. “But I don’t think so. She wasn’t giving us anything, she was trying to torch us. Why would she do that?”
“I really don’t know,” I said. “But remember, it was a dream. Dreams don’t always become reality. Sometimes they’re just warnings of what might happen if we don’t step in to change the future.”
Jose gave me a wry smile. “So, what was your dream about?”
“Oh, nothing special. The usual crazy shit. Do you want to go downstairs with me? Grab something to eat?”
In one sudden motion, Jose stood up, like a marionette jerked into position by strings. His arms and legs quivered. He stared at me as if he were looking out at me from the inside of a pressure chamber.
His head turned to the right with a loud cracking sound. Then, to the left. Then it whipped back and forth so fast that it looked like his neck would snap. I jumped off the bed and grabbed him, trying to secure his head with one hand while holding him around the waist.
That scrawny kid, who couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred-and-twenty pounds, drew back his free arm and punched me so hard in the gut that I flew back against the wall, the wind knocked out of me.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a strong wind blasted the windows, rattling the frames and peppering the glass with debris. The roaring of the wind drowned out the terrified thoughts in my head—all I could think about was getting to Jose.
Slow as a sleepwalker, Jose drifted over to the wall. He stopped with his nose almost touching the plaster.
“Fire clears the path for water, water swallows land. Then the Revelare is at hand.”
It wasn’t the first time that Jose had channeled a voice from the demon realm. I’d seen them take over his body before, and I’d heard them speak through him in voices so deep and terrible that they made my skin crawl.
But I had never seen Jose do what he did next. He braced himself with his hands, then drew back and slammed his forehead against the wall. His skull hit the plaster with a sickening thud.
Half-dazed with horror, I struggled to my feet and tried to reach for him, but I might as well have been moving through molasses.
Am I still dreaming? Did I not wake up? This nightmare will end at any second.
This was what
Paimon and his henchmen wanted, this occupation of our bodies, our lives, our souls.
“And we will be seen, we will be seen, we will be seen,” Jose babbled. Blood streamed from his nose as the gruesome crack of bone against plaster continued.
I knew there was no way these demons would let me close to the kid, so I ran to the door and shouted for help as if our lives depended on it.
Kingston and Jacob were already bounding up the stairs, summoned by the banging noise. Eli burst out of the game room, holding a club in his hands. The sight of Jose wearing a slick mask of blood as he pounded his head against the wall stopped them in their tracks.
“Don’t touch him!” I shouted. “They’re in his body!”
Kingston raised his arm and shouted his usual invocation: “By all the seraphim of Heaven, I banish you to Hell!”
A blast of wind struck the windows so hard that glass shattered.
Laughter burbled through Jose’s throat like water bursting through a clogged, rusty pipe. He kept banging, his neck flopping loosely with each blow. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to grab Jose and hold him tight, to jerk him away from the evil that held him like a magnet to that fucking wall.
I jumped for him again and ran smack into an invisible barrier that sent me reeling backwards.
Kingston’s invocation hadn’t worked. Jose was still surrounded.
Now Jacob stepped forward. “By all the seraphim of Heaven, I banish you to Hell!”
Jacob’s invocation rang out as loud as thunder. The wind stopped. We all stood in horrified silence as Jose’s limp body collapsed to the floor.
Carter
Miraculously, Jose hadn’t cracked his own skull, and a CT scan showed that he hadn’t suffered any brain damage. But his nose was fractured, and it had to be packed and splinted.
“I had a hell of a time convincing the social worker that Jose hadn’t been abused by a human being.” Kingston sighed. “I could tell she was itching to turn me in to the police.”
