Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 67

 

  “You have to be friends with it,” he said for about the dozenth time. “Be simpático. ”

  We were down in the exercise room again, where Seb sat straddling the weight machine. Stubble covered his firm jaw; he’d apparently taken me at my word about the shaving thing. All he needed now was a leather jacket and screaming groupies, though that would be so un-Seb-like as to be completely unreal.

  I nodded, determined to get it this time. “All right. Let me try again. ”

  Perched cross-legged on a sofa cushion, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My aura swam into my mind’s eye. I sat still, noticing the way it radiated out from my body: buoyant when I was happy, drawing in closely if I was upset. It was kind of medium-sized now, with a focused sense that matched my own. I watched its lavender lights drifting through the silver. . . and then I mentally reached out, frowning as I strove to catch hold of it.

  Blue, I told it. You need to be sky-blue now.

  The aura in my mind’s eye stayed calm, intent. . . and silver. As usual. Opening my eyes, I gazed at it glumly.

  There was a creak from the weight machine as Seb got up. “Maybe we should try something different,” he said. The sofa cushion dipped as he settled next to me; as always, a pleasurable tingle went through me at the mingling of our auras. “Just feel what I’m doing, yes?”

  As we sat there together, I could sense Seb’s light concentration, so different from my own grim focus. His state of mind was almost like an afterthought, or daydreaming. Gently, he nudged his aura; I felt it shiver as the colours he was imagining swept through it. Green. Then a dull grey. Green again. Silver.

  Neither of us moved as Seb changed his aura over and over. Almost without realizing, I began to echo his sense of relaxed detachment, so that after a while I was practically losing myself in my own aura: whispers of silver and lavender trailing over my skin, gleaming with emotion.

  “I think I get it,” I said softly. “I’ve been trying too hard, right?”

  Seb nodded, propping himself back on one hand. His hazel eyes were teasing. “Perhaps just a little, querida. ”

  “Don’t call me querida,” I said automatically. “Okay, let me see if I can do it now. ”

  Closing my eyes, I merged dreamily back into my aura’s glow. Don’t force it, I cautioned myself. When I felt ready, I mentally stroked its shimmering lights and imagined them turning blue.

  I caught my breath as my aura wavered and gave a flicker. Close, but no cigar. My heart started beating more quickly. No, don’t get excited – stay detached. It was easier said than done, though; when I tried again, my life energy didn’t even flutter. Or the next two times I tried. In my mind’s eye, I stared at the silvery glow in frustration. Oh god, I had to get this. How was I supposed to be there for the Council attack if I didn’t?

  There was a ripple of emotion from Seb. . . and when I opened my eyes, he was watching me very steadily, all trace of humour gone. With one of those undercurrents that happened more and more often between us now, I knew he’d heard my thought – and that he hated the idea of me taking part in the attack every bit as much as Alex would. Just the thought of me being hurt made him turn as fierce as those months when he was thirteen, so that he’d do whatever it took to protect me.

  We each knew what the other was thinking. A little shaken by the depth of his feelings, I started to say something, then stopped. There was no point in arguing. I’d learn how to change my aura in time, and I’d be there when the team confronted the Twelve – that was all there was to it.

  I could tell Seb had picked up the gist of that, and was letting it go for now – though from the tension around his mouth, he wasn’t happy. “Do you want to try again?” he asked finally.

  And for then, that was all either of us said about it.

  HAVING SEB IN THE HOUSE changed everything for me.

  Though Alex was, obviously, totally on my side, he was often too busy to really notice everything that went on with me and the others: the minor snubs, the sideways looks. It was all so stupid that I hated the fact it even got to me sometimes, and I didn’t blame Alex in the slightest for not always noticing – god, I wouldn’t even have wanted him to. Because, let’s be honest, he had one or two more important things on his mind just then.

  But Seb noticed it all. Suddenly there was someone whose gaze I could catch when Trish tensed if I came too close, or Brendan got that deer-in-the-headlights look. Seb’s eyes would be smiling as we glanced at each other, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly. If we were near enough, I might even catch what he was thinking, which was always something like, Madre mía – and you look so harmless. Have you got a machete up your sleeve or something? Once or twice I gave in to the laugh tugging at my lips – which then had the others staring at me in alarm, while Seb just quietly stood there, looking innocent. The difference all that made to my sanity was. . . well, not small.

  Just having Seb to talk to helped. There were so many things about my life that made sense now: strange feelings that had always set me apart, but that I hadn’t even known to question until I met him. Like how I’ve always been sensitive to the moods of places, when other people hardly seem to notice them; or the feeling of duality that I now realized I’d had all my life – the certainty that there was more to me than just the “me” I knew, even if I hadn’t been sure before what the rest of it was. These and a hundred other things were just part of being half-angel, it turned out – because Seb had always felt exactly the same way.

  “Did you know your father?” I asked.

  We were in the TV room, about a week after he’d arrived. The others were out, and as usual when they were on a hunt, frustration nagged at me that I couldn’t be there with them. I kept reaching psychically for Alex, needing to know he was safe. We all had cellphones now, but texts weren’t the same. Every time I found his energy, the familiar feel of it was like an embrace.

  Meanwhile, Seb had finally forced me to take a break from aura training, and he was right – after hours of no luck, my brain felt limp. Being gentle and offhand sounded like it should be the easiest thing in the world, but the problem was that it mattered so much. My pulse kept skipping the second my aura started to change, which then sent it snapping right back to silver. Frustrating wasn’t the word. How was I supposed to convince myself that I didn’t care about this?

  At my question, I was aware of Seb’s mind opening to mine, without him really thinking consciously about it. He shook his head. “No, I never knew my father. I always knew he was an angel though – I’m not sure how. Maybe my mother told me. ”

  “Did you ever see him in her thoughts, like I saw Raziel in Mom’s?” I’d told Seb about Raziel, and the Church of Angels.

  “Not really. ” He pulled a wry face as he sprawled back against the sofa, settling himself on the cushions. “I didn’t have much of a. . . link with my mother, I think is the word. ”

  I got a sense of isolation; a brief image of a woman in her twenties who looked like him. I wasn’t surprised Seb hadn’t been close to his mother – in all the pieces of memory I’d seen, she’d either been crying while her boyfriend hit him, or shouting that it was Seb’s fault. It was a relief to glance at him now, so healthy and relaxed. I felt my gaze lingering on him, and looked away.