Of course Sev didn’t get the joke. “Okay. Back it is.”
“So, you like it in the back too?”
Sev shrugged his shoulders with indifference. “I don’t really have a preference.”
“Oh, everyone has a preference.”
“Well, if I had to choose—”
“You do,” Chord insisted. “It’s life or death. A man is holding a gun to your temple and is asking you if you like it in the front or the back. You will be shot if you don’t choose one.”
“Why on Earth would a man want to kill me over my roller coaster preferences?”
Chord rolled his eyes. “Just answer the question.”
“I suppose I like it best in the front then,” Sev said, completely oblivious to Chord’s silent laughter.
“Interesting. You like it in the front, and I like it in the back.”
“Would you like to sit in the middle then?”
“The middle is perfect.”
GRAY
Gray followed Brielle to the carousel, cursing Aurora under his breath. He actually had wanted to ride the carousel’s moving animals with someone, but Brielle hadn’t been his first choice. Or second. Or third.
“I want the unicorn!” Brielle squealed.
The unicorn, temporarily stationary, was sandwiched between an ostrich and a bull. Gray chose the ostrich because any old guy could go to the local country and western bar to ride a bull. Ostrich tamer. Now that was a name he could wear proudly.
“The ostrich?” Brielle’s eyebrow rose. “Really?”
“You may ride bulls down in Texas, but where I come from, we ride birds. Big. Birds.”
Brielle blinked at him in confusion. “You ride birds in New York?”
Gray shook his head wondering if she was just playing dumb—because, for some reason, girls thought guys found it attractive—or, if she was truly that clueless.
His thoughts must have translated to his face because Brielle’s bewildered expression morphed into something resembling defeat.
“You don’t like me either, do you,” she said, a statement more than a question.
Gray’s brows disappeared into his hairline as he glanced over at Brielle. Luckily, he was saved from having to provide an immediate answer by the start of the carousel. But he couldn’t ignore the question forever.
“Why do you think that?” he asked.
Brielle’s unicorn was now prancing up and down in time with the melody of the supernal carousel music, and she reached up a hand to pet its blue and pink mane, reminding him strongly of a little girl tending to her dolls. When she looked over at him, though, her eyes were shining with the hint of repressed tears.
“Y’all think I don’t see the looks everyone gives me when I say anything? Anything at all? I mean, at first, I didn’t realize they were directed at me. I’m used to being the center of attention where I’m from. I’m used to being well-liked and respected.”
“You think we disrespect you?” Gray asked with concern now. Brielle bothered him, sure, but his uncle didn’t raise him to disrespect women.
Brielle shrugged, looking away from him and recommenced petting the hair of her unicorn. “Sometimes. Well, not you, really. Mostly Chord and Aurora. But you also don’t stand up for me either.”
“I don’t usually get in the middle of those kinds of things. And I assumed you could stand up for yourself. You are a Halo, after all.”
Brielle stuck her bottom lip out slightly. “Yeah, I know. I just, I feel like such an outcast around y’all. I’m the only religious one in our group. In Texas, I’m the norm—not the exception. No offense, but all four of you would be the weird ones where I’m from.”
“I think it’s safe to say we’re all reconsidering our beliefs as of late,” Gray cut in, distractedly playing with the ostrich’s feathers. The giant bird turned its small head around to stare at him with distaste. Gray removed his hands. “But, you know, Chord is pretty religious as well.”
Brielle’s face turned to stone. “He’s fooling himself.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little judgmental, Brielle? I mean, if we really are God’s chosen or whatever, that means you’re saying He made a mistake in choosing Chord.”
“No. I think Chord made a mistake in choosing to be attracted to men,” Brielle stated stubbornly.
Living in a liberal city like New York, Gray rarely came across people who believed this way. It was almost like speaking to someone from a cult. They seemed blindly sure of their beliefs, but couldn’t really back up their logic.
“So, when did you choose to be attracted to men?” Gray asked her equably.
Brielle shrugged, clearly not realizing the trap she’d just entered. “I don’t know. I just started liking them in, like, sixth grade.”
“Right. And I just started liking girls when I was in middle school. It wasn’t a choice I made. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just began to notice how beautiful they were and that I’d like to make out with some of them.” Brielle blushed at this and Gray continued. “Chord probably went through the same things, only he realized how beautiful he thought the boys were and how much he’d like to kiss them. But he knew he couldn’t. Because that wasn’t morally acceptable where he grew up.”
“How can you be so accepting?” Brielle shook her head. “I just wasn’t raised that way.”
For the first time since he’d met Brielle, he actually looked at her. Beneath all of the layers of makeup and hairspray, there was a young girl who had been molded by her parents—or mother, or preacher, or town—to see other people with score marks above their heads in the shape of sins. Some sins were greater than others in their book, and homosexuality seemed to fall in rank just below murder. And, for the first time, he felt sorry for her. Sorry that she saw people for what they did wrong, rather than what they did right—something Gray’s uncle had always taught him. “We all do shitty things,” his uncle Joe had said. “But we do not-so-shitty things, too. I personally like to look at those things, because, if someone held a microscope up to my life, that’s what I’d want them to see.”
“I’m a fireman,” Gray explained. “I’m called to save anyone and everyone. When I go to pull someone out of a car or a burning building, I don’t see any of the labels society has stamped on their foreheads. I see someone who is putting all of their trust in me to save them. I see their fear and their pain. I see that they don’t want their lives cut short. I’ve responded to calls from drag queens and priests, and I helped them all. At the end of the day, our basic human needs are all the same.”
Brielle’s pursed lips slowly softened into a thoughtful frown. “You really are a good person, Gray.”
“Nah. I’m just a person who wants to help others. I feel like that’s what we’re all here for. I don’t think there are good and bad people. We’re all just people…trying to survive in this world.”
Brielle peered over at him with wide, green eyes. Gray watched as something passed through them, a revelation of sorts, perhaps. He could practically see the key going into the lock and opening once closed doors.
The carousel slowed to a stop, and the ostrich seemed pleased to have Gray off of his back. Perhaps he would not hold the title of ostrich tamer after all.
Though he couldn’t say he cared for the way Brielle viewed the world, he did sympathize with her. He may have been open-minded now, but what if he’d been raised in a family like hers? Would he see the world in black and white too?
Speaking of black and white...
His preoccupied mind zeroed in on the blonde dressed in a long, flowing white skirt and black turtleneck with ankle boots, leaning against the railing of the ship, looking out at the inky sky.
Aurora turned her head to watch them approach, her eyes looking at them, but not actually seeing them.
“You eat your fill of sugarclouds?” Gray asked.
Her eyes focused on his and she shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. “What?” she said in a daze.
“You said you were going to be eating sugarclouds…” Gray clarified.
“Oh, right.” She pushed away from the rail, keeping one hand on the bar, steadying herself. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, you missed out on a fun ride,” Brielle simpered, her hands encircling Gray’s arm.
This brought Aurora back to life as her lips pursed and eyes fell into slits. “I’m sure. Well, I think I had too many sugarclouds. I’m going to go to sleep off the sugar.”
“Now?” Gray asked.
“Yeah. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at training.”
Aurora turned and left in the direction of the elevators, her dress and hair moving like a flag in the wind.
“Wonder what happened to her,” Brielle said.
Gray sighed in response—the only sound that could describe his convoluted feelings for the even more convoluted girl walking briskly away from him yet again.
Thirty-Two
AURORA
Seraph cards weren’t reliable sources of information, Aurora decided, so she dropped her worries about the future—at least for the moment—and focused on more important things, like being the best at fighting demons. The better she was at this, the more likely her cards wouldn’t come true.
“Hey, Samuel!” Aurora called after practice the next day, having escaped the other four who had already left to get ready for dinner.
Samuel revolved slowly on his heel, his fair hair falling into his cerulean eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m not getting that sword blocking maneuver thing,” she grumbled.
“Well, I’ve only just shown it to you.”
Aurora pursed her lips to the side. “Yes, but Sev has already mastered it.”
“Sev is an excellent swordsman. You have other strengths.”
“Oh, like holding Gray’s hand and putting our magical Stellar star powers together?” she said in a falsely bright voice. “That’s great and all, but I want to be strong on my own.”
Samuel sighed. “You are strong on your own, Aurora.”
“I know, I know. Because I’m a damaged girl who managed to pick herself up off of the ground after horrible things happened to her. Whoop-dee-doo.” The corner of Samuel’s mouth quirked up into a half-smile and Aurora continued, “That’s not the kind of strong I’m talking about. Clearly, I don’t need help with that. I mean I want to be physically strong. I want to be a fighter.”
Samuel walked over to a nearby rack of knives and pulled one free. “Now that I can help with,” he said before throwing the knife, end over end, at Aurora.
She ducked, the blade flying just above her shoulder and over the railing.
"What was that?" Aurora demanded.
"Your first lesson."
And, so, Aurora began a secret training affair with Samuel. They met in the early mornings before any of the others awoke. Donning her armor and pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail, she glanced at her reflection in the glass elevators, reassuring herself of her badass-ness. At least she looked the part.
“Have I told you red is your color?” Samuel remarked as Aurora approached with crux in hand.
“Red is nearly everyone’s color,” she said. “Except for redheads, maybe. Too much red.”
“That was a compliment. Do you know what that is?”
“Never heard of it. Let’s get started.”
Samuel chuckled and led her to a line of three-dimensional targets in various shapes. Aurora squinted, turning her head sideways until she realized what they resembled. “Are those the different kinds of demons?”
Samuel nodded. “A handful of them, that is.”
“How many different kinds are there?”
“Thousands. Maybe more than that. I’m not sure anyone has counted.”
“Are there any books on them?”
“There are. I can’t pretend to have read them. There are as many demons in hell and other dimensions as there are bugs on Earth.” Samuel walked a half-circle around Aurora. “You can either spend your time studying them and trying to figure out what they like to eat and how they mate…or you can squash them.”
“So, you’re saying demons are like huge, giant bugs? Why not just formulate a giant can of demon spray?”
Samuel leaned against the railing behind the targets. “Were you wanting to train, or talk about demons and bugs?”
“Train.”
“Good.” He pushed off from the rail and snatched a silver bow and quiver of arrows to match off a nearby bench. “We will start with archery.”
“Seriously?” Aurora grumbled. “That is so Lord of the Rings.”
Samuel snorted. “Angels have been using bow and arrows far longer than elves, I’m afraid.”
“You mean like cupid?” Aurora said with a chuckle that soon died off when she saw Samuel’s impassive face.
Sighing, she held her hands out for Samuel to place the bow and quiver in her upturned palms. His fingertips brushed her skin, blue eyes locking with hers. An electric energy passed between the two of them, and Aurora found herself breathless as he took a step away.
“Do you know the proper hold?” he asked.
“Um,” was all she could manage, still puzzled by what just occurred.
“I’ll show you.” Samuel paced around behind her, arranging her arms in the correct position. Whatever was going on with her body, it was overwhelmingly powerful. She felt much like a ditzy girl who was merely pretending not to know how to play pool or golf so her hot date could show her from behind.
“Okay,” Samuel continued in a murmur that caressed her ear. “So, you’ll just pull back on the string like this,” he wrapped his hand around Aurora’s, guiding it backward until the string strained and the arrow tip trembled. “Keep your left arm straight, your posture upright. Now, let go.”
He freed her hand as she released the arrow, which cut through the air like a spear, and landed square in the target demon’s chest.
“And you just punctured the heart. Now it’s dead. Well done.” He clapped Aurora on the shoulder, flashing her a playful wink as she steadied her breathing. “Now, try it on your own.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Aurora thought. This is ridiculous.
Samuel hadn’t elicited these sorts of feelings from her before. Why now? He moved away from her to observe with his arms crossed comfortably before him. Aurora shook her head clear and raised her arm. She imagined his arms around her, guiding her movements. Even picturing him there made a shiver trickle across her skin, goose bumps erupting in its wake. Pulling the arrow back and closing one eye, Aurora let the arrow fly.
It landed in the middle of the target demon’s small head. She lowered her bow as Samuel awarded her with a slow clap. “Its brains are now smashed. See? You’re a better fighter than you thought.”
Aurora shrugged. “Guess so.”
Hitting a demon in the head with an arrow was a good thing, sure, but she had been aiming for the heart.
Aurora wanted to move on, but Samuel wouldn’t let her work on anything else until she’d perfected the bow and arrow, which she now loathed.
“Okay, I think I’ve reached my zenith,” she said after hitting the target demon in the head for the billionth time. “I can’t get any better.”
“Nonsense,” Samuel said. “You’ve only been at this an hour. It takes continued practice. Besides. All of your comrades have weapons they use most and best. Yours can be the bow and arrow.”
“But I hate the bow and arrow,” Aurora grumbled.
“No, you hate that you haven’t mastered it yet. You hate that you aren’t perfect at archery right off the bat.”
“I don’t want to be good with only one weapon,” she said stubbornly. “I want to master all of them. I won’t always have a bow and arrow with me. Who knows, I may end up having to fight with a golf club or something.”
Samuel chuckled. “This is true. But…should you ever find yourself with only a bow and arrow, it would do well for you to have mastered i
ts use.”
Aurora perched her hands on her hips. “And what is your weapon of choice, oh wise one?”
“The hand scythe.”
“As in the weapon used by Death himself?”
“No. That’s just a scythe.”
“Oh. So, you use Death’s mini-weapon.”
Samuel’s head tilted sideways. “You’re stalling, Aurora.”
She let out a quick whoosh of breath. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll keep practicing.”
A voice that didn't belong to Samuel rang out behind them. “Practicing what?”
Aurora turned to see Gray approaching with two steaming cups of cherry cider in his hands.
“Um, archery,” she replied when she couldn’t think of anything clever to say. “Thirsty?”
“This one was for you. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone, though, or I’d have gotten a third.” He shot a tight glance at Samuel who was resting coolly against the ship's railing.
“That’s alright,” Samuel said. “I was feeling a bit like coffee, actually. Nice work today, Aurora.” He brushed her shoulder with his hand as he walked by, and that strange, troubling sensation coursed through her body. She bit her lip as she watched him leave.
“So, are you two doing extra training or something?” Gray asked, trying and failing at sounding indifferent.
Aurora shrugged, tearing her eyes away from Samuel’s retreating figure. “I need to hone my skills a bit more. I’m just okay at everything when the rest of you have mastered at least one weapon.”
“You just say that because you’re proficient with all of the weapons.” Gray handed Aurora one of the ciders and sat on a nearby bench. “So you don’t feel like you’ve mastered any. Even though each of us is only decent with one or two because those are the ones we practice with most.”
Aurora sat beside Gray, already exhausted, and the day hadn’t even started yet. After her little training session with Samuel, she was feeling extremely disoriented. She’d looked at Samuel as a confidant, as someone who knew her life nearly as well as she did. But, just now, with the tingly electric sensations, her body seemed to think more of him than she had realized.
Etheria (The Halo Series Book 1) Page 19
