My palms are slick with sweat as I depress the save button on the message again when it prompts me. It’s in the back of my mind that this is torture and not helpful in any way. I should just end the call, but I can’t.
“Next message.”
“Evie,” Zephyr says, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or crushed that it isn’t Reed’s voice speaking to me. “What you overheard us talking about in the library is not as bad as it might have sounded,” Zee says in a calm tone. He must have found the tablet that I had used to convince Russell to come with me. Russell said he had left it for Reed to find, so that Reed would know why we were leaving. “It must have sounded grave to you. But we have a plan. We are leaving in a few days. We planned to tell you and Russell tomorrow, but it seems we should not have waited. Evie, you are unorthodox, and although I admire that, in this situation, you are letting your emotions cloud your judgment. The best thing you can do now is call us and tell us where you are. We’ll come and get you. You will be safe with us… you are our family,” Zephyr says, and something twists inside of me and I can’t breathe for a second.
“Next message.”
“OKAY, YOU’RE REALLY PISSING ME OFF NOW!” Brownie’s voice booms. I have to hold the phone away from my ear. She was trying to sound angry, but there is fear in her voice that she can’t mask. “YOU BETTER CALL US BACK RIGHT NOW! WE’RE NOT PLAYING AROUND WITH YOU! CHICAGO IS A REALLY, REALLY BAD IDEA!”
They had bought it, I think, feeling at once grateful and sick for what I had done to them and the dichotomy of the emotions is making me feel dizzy. I save the message instinctively. I don’t care if Brownie is yelling at me; I need to know that I can hear her voice again if I need to.
“Next message.”
“Sweetie…” Buns’s voice says and I close my eyes for a second, picturing her face. “We are all very worried about you. I want you to come back now. We’re going to go to an island that Zephyr owns. It’s really remote and I bought you the cutest swimsuit that will make you look hot. Reed will be unable to resist you. Tell Russell we are going to arrange to have his family flown out so that they can visit each other for a while. We can’t go without you two. You have to come home now… please.” I hear the catch in Buns’s voice as she tries to reason with me on the message. I save this one, too.
“Next message.”
“Evie… where are you? I need… I need you… I can’t exist without you—you have to come back to me,” Reed says, and the pain that those words contain cannot be measured. I can’t see. My tears are blinding me. I save it automatically, but I don’t think I can ever listen to that message again. I don’t ever want to hear his voice sound like that again.
“Next message.”
It is Reed again, but this time he is speaking in Angel and it is different than I’ve ever heard it before. The sound of his voice is so sad that I burst out in sobs when I hear the melancholy lilt to the beautiful language.
What have I done? I ask myself, almost unable to breathe. Heaven help the one who truly loves me. When the message cuts off after an endless amount of time, the voicemail prompts me to save the message, but I delete it. I can never hear that again and expect to survive.
“Next message.”
“Sweetie,” Buns’s voice floats gently through the receiver, “you have to come home. When Reed found out you weren’t on the train… he completely lost it. I’ve never seen him like this—I’ve never seen a Power like this. It’s like he’s really sick. He can’t sleep—he can’t eat—he goes over every detail of the days before you disappeared, looking for clues of where you might have gone. We know that you boarded a bus. He got the surveillance disks, but your trail went cold in Mackinaw. If you care about him at all…it doesn’t matter what Dominion will do to him. It can’t be any worse than what you are doing to him now…” She pauses, taking a deep breath before she says, “But, if you decide you can’t come home, then I want to tell you—I will always love you, too, sweetie,” Buns says and it sounds like she was crying. “Brownie and Zee are here and they want me to says that they love you, too. We will always be looking for you, sweetie.” When this message ends, I save it.
“Next message.”
“Do you remember when I told you that I sometimes believe that you’re not real? That I imagined you just to hurt myself?” Reed says softly with a bitterly self-effacing laugh that has nothing to do with humor. “I know now that you have to be real. This kind of pain cannot exist if you were imaginary,” Reed’s sexy voice breathes. I feel like I could reach out and touch him, he feels that close to me. “I know you exist, but you’re like a sunset to me now—beautiful and so distant that no matter how fast I fly, I cannot reach you. You are always on the next horizon,” Reed says sadly, and my breath catches in my throat as an unbelievable ache throbs in my chest. “Tell me where you are. I will meet you—wherever you are in the world. I will be there. Just you and me, I swear it. We don’t have to endanger anyone else—we’ll make sure Buns and Brownie and Zephyr are safe. Just you and me, I promise…I will meet you anywhere at anytime…I will…” The message ends and I can’t move, nothing about me works anymore. After a few prompts by the voicemail to save the message, the voicemail automatically saves it.
“You have no unheard messages,” the voice says and I slowly pull the phone from my ear. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but the next thing I realize is pounding rattling the front doors of the library. Looking over at them numbly, I see Russell watching me from outside. He looks scared and I wonder fleetingly how long he has been out there waiting for me to notice him.
Numbly, I get up from the chair, feeling weak. Tears slide down my cheek and I’m almost surprised when my hand wipes at it and comes away wet. Haltingly, I unlock one of the main doors to the building. Russell is inside in a fraction of a second, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me to him. “What happened?” he asks with a grim look, holding me too close.
I feel dead, like if I tell him what I just heard I will break apart and there will be nothing left of me to love. He can’t console me… there is no relief.
“Tell me, Red, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” Russell says near my ear.
“I found a phone,” I murmur as I lift my hand and pull back from Russell’s chest. I open up my palm for him to see the silver cell phone lying in it. Taking it from me, he looks at it in confusion. I’m beyond the point of being able to explain what I had heard, so I say in a hollow voice, “I called my voicemail.”
“Red,” Russell says, closing his eyes like he is disappointed in me. His hand closes tight on the phone I have just given him and in seconds he has crushed it into a hunk of metal. He opens his eyes and looks at me, surprised by what he had just done. I’m not surprised. I knew it was coming. His strength will rival my own and that thought is the only bright light in the darkness of my world.
“I want to go home,” I whisper, and I see Russell’s expression turn sad. He knows what I mean. He knows I mean home to Crestwood, not our shabby apartment in the U.P.
“I know ya do,” he says. “But, we can’t do that ‘til we know we aren’t gonna be killin’ them by bein’ there.”
“But…I can’t breathe anymore,” I retort. I break down again, putting my hand to my mouth.
“Hang on, just a little longer… y’all can do it, Red, I know ya can,” he says as he pulls me in his arms again. “Did ya make any other calls?” he asks tensely, waiting for my answer.
“No,” I reply, and he relaxes.
“C’mon. Let’s go. This place is creepy at night. No wonder yer makin’ calls to yer voicemail. Why are ya here alone?” he asks in an angry tone.
I shrug. I can’t think. I keep hearing Reed’s voice in my head speaking in his language, but with the sadness that tortures me. I let Russell lead me to the circulation desk to get my purse. Taking the keys from me, he holds the door for me and locks up behind us. Passing the garbage can outside, he tosses the crushed phone into it
.
I hardly leave my room the next day. I hear Russell stomping around the apartment agitatedly, but it makes me just want to pull the pillow over my head. I think he wants an explanation as to why I used that phone and almost ruined our new life here, but there is no explanation that won’t hurt him. How can I tell him that I hadn’t known how unrelenting the pain and loss of the family I had come to count on would be? It never ends, this ache for Reed. Russell is definitely stronger than me. He lost his family, too, but he isn’t falling apart. He’s adapting. I admire that in him. He is an ass kicker and I’m proud of him, even as I struggle to make him proud of me, too.
After allowing me to stay in bed for a day, he manages to cajole me into training with him the next two days. He has a way of getting me to do things that I don’t want to do. I think he knows me too well. He knows all the right buttons to push to get my compliance and it’s really annoying to come to that realization. I teach him more Bruce Lee and he instructs me on tree jumping. I’m not nearly as good at it as he is because my wings don’t span nearly as far as his. I had a couple of really scary encounters with tree trunks before I figured out that I couldn’t glide as far as him.
Russell was given a set of keys to the gym at the high school so that he can open up when the basketball coach is running late. We start going there late at night to train and I show him again how to run the walls. He takes to it with a natural ability and grace that is ingrain in him, using his increasing speed to defy gravity and propel himself onto the wall without much effort. The first time he accomplishes the feat, he jumps off the center of the wall and tumbles directly in front of me, managing to scoop me up in his arms and swing me around like a rag doll. He is so psyched about bouncing off the wall, he is… well, bouncing off the walls.
Russell has also managed to find some swords at a gun and knife show that traveled through the area a few weeks ago. He has gotten us quite a few weapons and when I ask him where he’d found them all, he informs me that the U.P. is a virtual treasure trove for all types of weapons. He says that there is even a slogan that goes: The U.P. is made for sportsmen. I don’t know what kind of sport involves wickedly sharp Samurai swords, but I guess I’ll have to go with it.
Russell is deadly with a sword. He is also patient, using all his knowledge and finesse to force me into positions from which I can’t retreat. Then, when it’s apparent that he could easily kill me, he stops and shows me step-by-step where I went wrong, trying to correct my mistakes. He makes it seem effortless, his skill with the weapon. There is something terrifying about watching him move like a powerful storm, coming closer and closer with frightening speed and control, knowing that if he wants to, he can slice me in half without a backward glance. But he never loses focus, never lets the intensity of what he’s doing overwhelm him or cause him to act wildly. I think he’s constantly conscious of what happened when I hit him with the marble and he knows now that it would not take much to lose perspective.
When Monday comes, I notice Russell watching me get ready for work. He looks apprehensive. “Ya know, Red, maybe y’all shouldn’t go in today. I mean, I hate to think of ya all alone there. Ya never know what those two are gonna do,” he says, referring to Lynnette and Autumn. He was really angry when he found out that they left me to cover for them so they could go get drunk before a party.
“They don’t bother me…much,” I shrug, thinking of the girls. They are more annoying than hurtful, since I really don’t care what they think of me.
“Still, why don’t ya look for somethin’ else—somethin’ durin’ the day with normal hours?” he asks.
“Why? It’s not like the Fallen don’t come out during the day or any other angel for that matter,” I point out, looking at Russell to see where he is going with this.
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just used to the dangers associated with y’all bein’ a girl and bein’ human. I can’t seem to shake it,” he replies, smiling a little. “I always had to run over to Scarlett’s friend’s house after dark to walk her home. My mom didn’t want her out at night alone. I guess old habits die hard.”
Something about the image of Russell walking his little sister home at night makes me smile. He is such a lovely person, good for all the right reasons. Even through all of this, he has managed to keep that sweetness about him. It’s like he is good all the way to the core, so that it doesn’t matter how much of him gets scraped away— there is still goodness underneath.
“I dare any human to attack me. Pwnage, Russell,” I say, holding up the butter knife I had been using to spread peanut butter on a slice of bread I’m packing for my dinner tonight. When Russell looks at me skeptically, I chuck the knife across the room, impaling the fly with it that has been annoying me all morning. The knife embeds in the wall at the other end of the room, making a new scar in the wall to blend in with the others.
“Flossin’ again, huh?” he mutters, and I look down, smiling a little. “Hey, I was wonderin’ if y’all would come with me on Wednesday. One of the parents of the kids on the team is havin’ a little party for all the parents and coaches. It’s a cocktail and hors d’oeuvres thing. Blake and his wife Angie will be there and I think I kinda have to make an appearance.”
Blake is the coach of the team that hired Russell to be the assistant coach. I have met him a few times after the games. He’s funny, the way he whistles at me every time he sees me, like he can’t help himself. Angie just rolls her eyes at him when he does it. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, well nothing too bad anyway.
“What does one wear to an event like cocktails and hors d’oeuvres?” I ask him.
“Good question…somethin’ sexy…” he replies with a charming grin.
I roll my eyes. “I’ll call Angie and find out,” I reply. Russell frowns a little. He still hasn’t given me back my cell phone and I haven’t asked for it. I can see the thought of me having it back is not a good one in his mind. Sadly, I agree with him.
“How ’bout I ask Angie for ya. I’ll let ya know what she says,” he asks, and his brown eyes meet mine with concern.
“Sure,” I reply, packing up my sandwich in a plastic bag and putting it in the little cooler I take to work with me.
“I’ll swing by tonight, after you get off work,” he says smoothly.
He wants to pick me up. He’s worried about me, I realize, and I guess I’m to blame for that, again.
“Okay,” I sigh, because it will probably take a little while for me to gain his trust back. He relaxes a little after that and I go to change for work. Putting on a black pencil skirt that stops just above the knee with a white blouse that I altered to accommodate my wings, I select the black heels that always make Russell stop and stare. He likes them a lot.
I walk to work thinking of the party. When I arrive at the library, I’m disappointed to find out that Fran isn’t back from her time off yet, so I’m stuck with Autumn at the circulation desk again. As the course of the evening wears on, I notice Autumn being unnaturally quiet. She is just sitting and watching me while I assist patrons, like she is studying me. The more I scrutinize her, the more suspicious I’m becoming of her behavior. She doesn’t seem right to me. Normally, she is chatty and filled with inane observations that make me think that she has never been out of Houghton, or at least she has never been farther south than the bridge. But she’s uneasy and twitchy tonight. There is a glassy tint to her eyes. I wonder if they had gotten more than just a case of beer when they were out at the river.
I spy Lynnette later by the photocopiers watching me, too. She looks slightly ill and her pupils are dilated to near blackness. They are definitely on something, I surmise. A very petty part of me hopes it’s a scary, face-melting, shadows-dancing, demon-frolicking trip.
By the time my shift is halfway done, I am truly creeped out by their behavior. Autumn follows me everywhere I go, even into the bathroom. I just about have to shut the stall door in her face and I can hear her outside the door biting her nails. I
breathe easier when I go back out to the circulation desk and see Erin entering the lobby of the library, carrying two cups of coffee.
“Lillian!” Erin says, approaching the desk. “I brought you a cup of coffee as a not so subtle bribe.” She sets the coffee down in front of me. She flashes cream and sugar at me, drawing it from her pocket like contraband before balancing it on top of the coffee cup lid, along with a coffee stir stick. “I need your help again, eh. I need to find some more information for my project.”
“I would be happy to help you. You don’t have to bribe me, but I’m glad you did. I love coffee,” I say, relieved to see a friendly face. Autumn is earjacking our exchange with glazed fascination that is almost embarrassing.
Erin, noticing our audience, glances from Autumn and then to me again, making a little face that indicates she thinks Autumn is acting weird. Then she says, “I need to have more documentation on how the Schwarzschild radius can be calculated using the equation for escape speed.”
“That sounds gnar gnar. Let’s go see what we can turn up,” I say, coming around the end of the circulation desk. I have to stop, feeling my Autumn shadow trailing me. I turn to Autumn and say, “Autumn, can you watch the desk while I help Erin find what she needs?” Autumn’s gaze shifts to Erin, and then it comes back to me. She nods slowly and I exhale a deep breath when she goes back around the counter and sits down, biting her nails as her eyes continue to track me.
“Is she high?” Erin asks in a near whisper as we walk away from the counter toward the reference computer.
“I don’t know. She is acting strange though,” I reply, trying not to speculate.
“Hey, I want to tell you that you didn’t miss much last week, you know when we went to the bar. It was pretty dead,” she says conspiratorially, while I referenced her subject on the computer. “But the most amazing thing happened to me on Saturday night!” she says before taking a quick sip of her coffee.
Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 25
