by Tamar Sloan
Mac frowns. “You know that’s not what I meant,” she points out.
Reign shrugs. “It’s something we should all keep in mind.” He looks around the room. “Time’s a wastin’. Shall we go see what the word on the street is?”
“Sure.” Mac glances at Arielle as if she’s wondering what just happened.
Arielle drops her gaze. She can’t answer that question because she has no idea.
Reign strides to the door. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“Be careful,” Colt calls after them.
“Sure thing,” Reign throws over his shoulder, suggesting he has no intention of doing that. Without a backward glance, he and Mac are gone.
Arielle stands there, feeling foolish. She’s not sure what she expected to happen, but surely he could’ve spared her a goodbye? Shown her a little common courtesy?
She turns to her cousin and Colt, trying to find her bearings. She needs something to do. Something to focus on. “So, what do you need me to do?”
Playing her part in getting her mother back, even if it includes acknowledging angels are demons are real, is going to be her sole focus.
Gabby smiles brightly, as if she has great news. “You get a ‘get out of jail free’ pass. Your job is to go home and pretend like none of this ever happened.”
Arielle’s about to say she can’t do that. Too much has gone down.
But then she sees the compass, still sitting on the table. Reign didn’t take it. Like that moment, along with her silly gift, meant nothing to him. Her stomach bottoms out like she just fell from a great height.
Yep. A rollercoaster.
Arielle straightens her shoulders. “Sure. In fact, I’m going to do everything I can to wipe these past two days from my mind.”
19
Reign
“You like her.”
Reign ignores Mac as they step off the bus. He stalks down the street toward their foster home, wishing she’d focus on something else. There’s no way he wants to have this conversation.
The bus pulls away, and he’s several feet down the path when he realizes Mac isn’t with him. He turns to find her standing in the middle of the pavement, hands on hips.
He tips his head back as he lets out a long sigh. “Her mother’s missing.”
His response jolts Mac into action and she comes to stand in front of him. “Also a relevant fact,” she agrees. “But beside the point.”
“Actually, it is the point. She has enough to deal with right now.”
And she doesn’t need some dropkick who’s only going to jerk her around. Guys like him don’t hook up with girls like Arielle. Not without lying to themselves and everyone around them.
Mac angles her head, peering up at him. “And you’d just add to her burden rather than lessen it?”
With a frustrated groan, Reign turns away. Arielle is beautiful. Smart. A little left of center. And she went through the past twenty-four hours without falling apart once. That makes her impressive.
The moment she smiled at him, her face so close, her flame blue eyes soft and teasing as she’d cleaned his wounds, had taken his breath away. There had been a brief second where he’d wondered what those lips feel like. Whether they’re as soft as they look. Whether the fire he senses within her will burn as bright as he thinks it will.
Right before he snapped himself out of his foolish fairytale thoughts. People like him don’t deserve happy endings.
Mac catches up and Reign’s glad when she doesn’t push the point. Instead, she shoves him with her pointy shoulder. “What a day, huh?”
Reign slides a glance her way. “You’ve been loving it.”
“Apart from the part where you were kidnapped and almost killed, it’s been kinda cool.”
That’s probably because she’s not hallucinating. Reign realizes that Joseph hasn’t appeared since they were down in the crypt. He’s glad. Discovering angels and demons are real has been enough of a mind meld.
“I mean, think about it. How much more is there to this world that we never realized?” Mac continues. “And it also means you’re not crazy. Joseph is real.”
“I’ll help with these missing women,” Reign states firmly. It’s the least he owes Arielle after kicking off the worst day of her life. “And if that means accepting the supernatural, then fine. But I am not”— Reign heavily emphasizes the last word—“believing for a second that my drug induced, weird ass hallucinations have anything to do with it. That was an inevitable slippery slope in the freak show that is my life.”
“Reign?” A strident voice carries down the path. “Have you finally hauled your ass back home?”
Mac’s shoulders slump. “Avril’s in a good mood.”
Reign snorts. “She has a different setting?”
They head toward the house and Reign steels himself as he always does before they see their foster mother. He should probably thank Avril for thickening his armor so much.
She’s standing in the doorway, hands on her thick hips. “About time.”
Reign and Mac glance at each other. Since when did Avril actually want them in the house?
She steps back to let them enter. “I’ve been praying for your souls.”
Reign rolls his eyes, making sure Avril can’t see the gesture. She says this every time they come back.
And each time, he responds in the same way. “I don’t think it worked.”
“I know,” she snaps. “Your sins are catching up with you.”
Reign and Mac pause in the living room, glancing at each other. The script just changed. Avril always tells them she’s willing to help them repent—cleaning each room of this house, one at a time.
Avril’s hands are back on her hips. She smiles as she sees she has their attention. “No matter how much I’ve tried to show you the light, no matter how much I have tried to teach you the way, you invite sin into your life.” Avril’s working herself up into a Puritan fury. Her greasy hair glistens as sweat beads along her hairline, and her jowls wobble with fervor. “Now, you have invited The wrath of He Who Sees Everything upon yourselves.”
“Yep, we know,” Reign interjects. “We’re paving the way to eternal damnation. What did you mean when you said our sins are catching up with us?”
“Do not mock me, boy! The sins are real! They are temptations placed in our path by Satan himself!”
“I’m pretty sure I can sin all on my own. I don’t need Lucifer’s help.”
Mac elbows Reign in the ribs. “Do you want this over any time soon?” she hisses under her breath.
Avril’s cheeks are turning a ruddy red, as if she’s being fueled by the fires of Hell herself. Reign mentally sighs, accepting Mac’s right. He just wants a shower and a change of clothes so they can get out of here.
Avril stomps toward them, pushing her blazing face closer to Reign’s. “Justice is coming for you, boy. He rang yesterday.”
Reign’s about to turn away from the sour breath coming at him in puffs when he stops. “You got a call from the dude upstairs?”
“Of course not, you idiot,” Avril snarls. “A Detective Kane rang, asking questions about you.”
Reign’s brows slam down. Seems he’s a POI on more than one list. “What did you tell him?”
“That he was wasting his breath because you’re never home. That an eternity of damnation awaits you if you don’t change your ways.” Avril huffs as she crosses her arms over her ample bosom. “I told him a demon of the damned has possessed you.”
Actually, a demon saved him today, and he didn’t seem very damned, but Reign doesn’t point that out. All that matters is that the cops know he rarely comes home. They’re not very likely to come looking for him here.
The phone in the kitchen rings, the strident sound piercing the air. Reign glances at Mac, his muscles coiled and ready to run. If it’s the cops, Avril will tell them they’re here, waiting for the long arm of the law to slap their sinning backsides.
Avril shoves her face c
lose to Reign’s again. “That’ll be that girl Lizzie, asking for you again. Have you seduced some poor girl to your sinning ways?”
“Actually—”
Reign’s words are cut off by Mac’s sharp elbow. For a second he considers continuing to tell Avril that Lizzie was far more keen to sin than he was, which is one of the reasons he broke it off. But he snaps his mouth shut.
Instead, he sighs. “I’ll call her. She won’t bother you again.”
Avril harrumphs. “Good.” She glances past Reign’s shoulder to the hallway behind him. “There are a lot of lost souls I need to pray for.”
She’d be talking about all the other foster children she currently has under her care. As she stomps past them, Reign marvels at the fact Avril has convinced herself she’s a good person. For people like her, learning of the existence of angels and demons would only solidify that belief.
“So, Lizzie’s still hanging around, huh?” Mac asks with a smirk.
“Zip it, Mackenzie,” Reign mutters, using her full name just because he knows it annoys her. “She knows it’s over.”
Mac’s smirk grows. “Does she?” She flutters her lashes at him as she heads to the room she shares with two other girls. “You tell yourself that while I go get myself some clean clothes.”
Rubbing his temple with one hand while he pulls his cell out of his pocket, Reign sees there are multiple missed calls from Lizzie. He ignored the first few, hoping she’d take the hint, and then the rest of the day…he was busy with crypts, angel wings popping up and demon abductions.
Pressing the button to call her back, he hopes he can keep this quick. He never stays in this house for long, and with some Detective on his tail, he plans on halving the usual time.
Lizzie picks up after the first ring. “Reign! Where have you been?”
“Sorry, I’ve had a bit on my plate. What’s up?”
The moment he says the words, Reign’s gut clenches. He doesn’t want a replay of their past few cliched conversations:
Reign, I miss you.
Look, Lizzie, we had some good times—
Some really good times…
True. And you’re going to make some lucky guy really happy someday.
“A cop has been at the school, asking about you,” Lizzie says in a hushed voice. “A Detective Kane.”
Reign’s lungs seize mid-breath. The same guy who rang here. “Did he have doughnuts?”
“This isn’t funny, Reign,” Lizzie exclaims. “He was asking a lot of questions, wanting to know if anyone had seen you recently.”
“I don’t even go to college,” Reign points out.
“Yes, well, the Detective said he’s following up any leads.” Lizzie pauses. “This could affect your chances of being accepted down the track, Reign.”
“I dropped out of high school, remember? College isn’t on the cards for me.”
“Look, if you’ve got yourself mixed up with something, I can help. My dad—”
“No, thanks” Reign quickly interjects. He’s not owing Lizzie anything. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “I’m worried about you. Maybe we could meet somewhere, talk about—”
“Thanks for letting me know about the detective, Lizzie, even if he didn’t have donuts. You’re a good friend.” He pulls back the phone. “Coming, Mac!” Returning it to his ear, he injects his voice with as much apology as he can muster. “Sorry, gotta go. Look after yourself.”
He hangs up before she can answer, pressing the edge of his phone to his forehead. He never pretended there was going to be anything with Lizzie apart from a bit of fun, and the moment she looked like she wanted more than that, he ended things. Then why does he feel guilty?
He quickly ducks into his room, grabs some clean clothes, and has a hasty shower. Maybe he can wash away the icky feeling that’s crawling over his skin. Plus, the less time he can be here, the better. He’s out within ten minutes, but he still finds Mac waiting for him in the living room, looking clean and fresh.
Mac looks him over from his still damp hair to the fact he’s already wearing shoes. “She took it well, huh?”
It seems some things can’t be washed away. “She said a Detective Kane has been asking after me on campus.”
“Of course he was,” Mac huffs. She wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re becoming quite popular, aren’t you?”
“Not by choice, let me assure you.”
Mac tenses, her head angling as if she just heard something. Reign glances around, suddenly on alert. She’s always had a freakishly sensitive set of ears.
“What? What is it?”
But then he hears it, too. The jarring, ominous wails of a police siren.
Mac drops the clothes she was holding. “Avril ratted us out.”
Simultaneously, they run to the front windows. A police car slams to a halt in the driveway, three police officers swarming out before the car has stopped moving.
“Run!” Reign says flatly. “The back door.”
They’ve just broken into a sprint when Avril appears in the hall. “What evil have you brought into my house?” she screams, planting herself in their way. “What do they want?”
There’s no time to wonder why she’s sounding so surprised considering she was the one who called them. Reign feints left and the moment her bulky body tries to block him, he steps right. She bellows as he and Mac zip past her, making a beeline for the back door.
Behind them, the front door crashes open. “Stop!” a voice booms through the house. “You’re under arrest.”
Like hell, he is.
Shoving the back door open, Reign pulls up short as he finds a uniformed body in front of him. Dammit, the third cop came around the back. The man’s face is twisted in an angry scowl as he opens his mouth to speak.
But before he gets a chance to repeat the demand to stop so they can arrest him, Reign plants his fist in the man’s jaw.
The cop staggers backward, his eyes rolling back in his head. He crumples to the ground, unconscious as Reign and Mac hightail it for the back fence.
20
Arielle
Arielle stares at the blank computer screen in front of her, feeling like a fool. She promised Gabby and herself she’d act like nothing happened. She agreed this was best.
Except she can’t ignore that her world is upside-down and inside out, and angels and demons aren’t the half of it.
Her mom is missing.
And the more time passes, the more the ache grows, leaving less and less room for hope. The weight is starting to crush her. She shakes her head, glancing at her boots beside the bed. On the left toe are the words she needs right now.
Hope > Fear
“Hope is the only thing stronger than fear,” she murmurs. The moment her mother said those words to her, Arielle had rushed off and scribbled the little equation.
She just never knew she’d need to remember it because her mother would be wrenched out of her life.
And hope and fear were all she’d be left with.
The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting, counting out the seconds she’s failing. She told Gabby she’d focus on her studies, just like Mom would want her to. She also told Aunt Shell the same thing when she got home.
And yet, she hasn’t written a word.
She rests her head on her desk, closing her eyes. She’s so tired, but she admits she’s too scared to go to sleep. The nightmare of the obelisk was terrifying when it was a dream. But knowing those stone monoliths have been foretold, that they’re supposedly real, turns her blood to ice. For some reason, it feels like the seven robed figures, the ones with wings just like Gabby, are tied to the obelisks in ways she doesn’t understand.
Exhaustion clouds her confused mind. Maybe she’s overreacting. Her imagination is getting away from her. She’s muddling up the loss of her mother with the strange vision.
Her limbs become heavy as she gives into the call of oblivion. Maybe this will all seem bet
ter after some sleep…
The obelisk appears the moment consciousness slips away. As if she’s picking up from where she left off, the cracks in the monolith flare as if it’s in pain. The hand that was clawing at it is gone, but that doesn’t matter. The damage has been wrought.
Crimson flares through each crevice, like luminous, blazing blood. The largest crack splinters wider, and the light dims. No. Shadows are squirming out like weightless ink, fracturing the glow. Once the first couple are out, they worm and writhe with more vigor. As each one is let loose, it streaks for the sky, letting out victorious screeches and guttural growls.
Terrified all over again, Arielle tries to break free of the nightmarish dream. She desperately grapples for consciousness, for the safety of reality. The vision is just receding when she sees one final detail.
Arielle pulls herself upright with a gasp. “No,” she whispers.
There was one white figure, but she wasn’t standing like last time, her wings extended. She was laying at the base of the obelisk, painted in her own blaze of red.
Arielle’s throat burns with bile. The wings had been nothing like Gabby’s. They’d been lifeless. The woman was dead.
Pushing to her feet, Arielle glances at her clock. It’s almost midnight, which means Aunt Shell would’ve gone to sleep long ago. Arielle tiptoes out of her room, shivering even though it’s not cold.
Downstairs, she pads to her mother’s chair and curls up in it, trying to contain her tears. “Where are you, Mom?” she whispers brokenly.
Never in her life has she needed her more. Everything is just too…big. And right now, Arielle feels so infinitely small.
Tucking her knees up, she curls even tighter, as if she can physically hold herself together. How is she expected to just sit here and wait?
And yet, what else can she do?
Her head falls to the side, feeling far too heavy as it rests against the back of the chair. Arielle’s gaze falls on what used to be the fireplace. Her mother had brought back some middle eastern tiles from one of her work trips and had made it one of her crazy projects, as Gabby liked to call them, to learn how to tile a wall.
