Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 59

 

  Earns his keep. Was I even earning mine? I tried to smile back, but suddenly it wasn’t easy.

  “What?” said Alex.

  “Nothing. It’s just. . . here I am, hanging out in the house with Seb, while you and the others are going on another hunt, maybe risking your lives—”

  “Stop,” he said firmly. He reached for my hand; gripped it reassuringly. “What you’re doing here is just as important, Willow – I mean it. ” He hesitated, looking down at our linked fingers. “And. . . I sort of wanted to talk to you about that. Now that the Council’s here in the city, I think maybe it’s better if—”

  “I know,” I broke in. “Don’t worry, I’d already decided. I’m not coming on any more hunts until I’ve learned how to change my aura. ” Though the thought of sitting at home while the others put themselves in danger grated at me, I couldn’t justify the threat that my half-angel energy posed, not when I knew it was possible to change it.

  Alex nodded, looking conflicted. I could feel his relief that I wouldn’t be going out with them for the time being – but at the same time it bothered him that the team hadn’t really accepted me yet, and we both knew this wouldn’t help. Just then we heard the sound of the others, congregating in the kitchen.

  “Better go,” he said. Leaning forward, he kissed me and I linked my arms around his neck, relishing the warmth of his lips on mine. It felt like it had been years, not days, since I’d been able to kiss him without worrying; I had a burst of relieved pleasure that was almost giddy. Now that I knew everything was okay, all I wanted was to be alone with Alex – really alone, for as long as possible.

  “See you later,” he said when we drew apart. The look in his blue-grey eyes melted me. He kissed my nose. “Love you. ”

  “Love you too. ” I stood against the wall, watching as he walked back through the firing range and disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of voices, the door opening and closing. My happiness faded and I sighed, hoping they were going to be okay. It felt so strange, Alex going someplace without me – this was almost the only time it had happened since we’d first met.

  He’ll be fine, I told myself. If anyone knows what he’s doing, it’s Alex.

  Behind me, I heard Seb get up and move to the bottom of the stairs. “They’ve gone out?”

  “Yeah, they’ve gone on a hunt. ” I jogged down the stairs, brushing past Seb as he stood there, and started gathering up the cushions from the floor. “So I guess we can go upstairs to the TV room, where it’s comfier. ”

  Seb took the cushions from me, tucking them easily under his arm. “Yes, that sounds better. ”

  Upstairs, we put the cushions back on the sofa and then went into the kitchen to get some Cokes. There was always plenty of stuff like that in the house – half the supplies in the boxes upstairs were things like canned food and drinks; the other half was ammo and combat gear. It was like Juan had been preparing for a siege.

  I handed Seb a Coke and then kept the fridge door open a second, peering in. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  He made a face as he popped the Coke open. “The food here is very. . . American,” he said.

  I glanced at him over the fridge door. “What? Like what?”

  Seb shrugged. “Cheetos, Doritos, stuff like that,” he said, leaning against the counter. I saw the muscles of his chest flex under his T-shirt and looked quickly back into the fridge again. What is wrong with you? I demanded of myself, irritated. You’re in love with Alex – why are you even noticing Seb?

  “Doritos are sort of like Mexican food though, aren’t they?” My voice sounded thankfully normal.

  Seb laughed, and picked up a bag from the counter. “Willow – they’re orange,” he said, holding them up. “And the Cheetos are also orange. They’re both bright, bright orange. ” He shuddered. He had a point, actually.

  I laughed too, and felt my tension ease. “Okay, I admit the nacho cheese Doritos probably aren’t very Mexican,” I said, still scanning the fridge. There wasn’t much in there – the guys all ate like horses, so that we didn’t have leftovers very often. “I meant the plain ones, that you eat with salsa. ”

  “Maybe a little,” Seb conceded, tossing the bag back onto the counter.

  I closed the fridge door and grabbed a bag of chocolate-chip cookies from the counter behind him. “Here – everyone likes chocolate-chip cookies,” I said, handing them to him. “Including Mexicans. And there’s no orange in them. ”

  He grinned. “You promise?”

  “Sí, I promise. ”

  In the TV room, I sat on the sofa. Part of me was hoping Seb would take the armchair, but he sat beside me. Not right beside me, but I was very conscious of him there, just a few feet away. Trying to ignore it, I kicked off my shoes and settled back in the corner of the sofa.

  Seb bent over to take his sneakers off too, and I saw another scar on his forearm: a thin white slash this time, like from a knife blade, stark against his tanned skin. Time seemed to slow as I stared at it, thinking of everything Seb had told me – hating everything he’d been through.

  “I wish we’d known each other when we were children,” I blurted out. Immediately, I was embarrassed that I’d said it, but it was true. I wanted to go back in time somehow and just. . . be there for him, so that he knew he wasn’t the only one of his kind.

  A few loose brown curls fell over Seb’s forehead as he looked up at me. He didn’t seem surprised, just sort of wistful. “Yes, I wish so too,” he said softly. “All my life, I’ve wished that. ” He gave a regretful smile. “But I think it would have been better if I had been with you as a boy in your home in the mountains. Not for you to have been where I was. ”

  And for a second, all I wanted to do was hug him. I looked away and crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the treacherous voice that was whispering friends can hug.

  “So, you were telling me about what happened with your angel,” I said, hoping that Seb wasn’t picking up on any of this. God, this must be what it was like for Alex, having a psychic girlfriend.

  If Seb sensed my confusion, he didn’t let on. “Yes. My angel saved me, I think. ” He settled himself in the opposite corner of the sofa, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. The sofa was long enough so that his large boy-feet in their clean white socks weren’t touching me.

  I sat cross-legged as I faced him. “He saved you?”

  Seb nodded. Propping an elbow on the arm of the sofa, he took a gulp of his Coke and then stretched over to put it on the coffee table. “I was in a bad fight, and I think I must have had—” He frowned and touched his head. “Concussio? How do you say it?”

  “Concussion?”

  “Yes. ” He shrugged. “I was an idiot; I’d fight with anyone. And so I fought with someone twice my size, and he got me down and kicked me in the head. Once, twice – I don’t know how many times. When I woke up, I was bleeding; I didn’t know where I was. I lay there for a long time, and thought I was going to die. I didn’t really care, but I was furious that a human had done this to me. ”