Death and the Girl Next Door d-1

by Darynda Jones

  I put my hand on the window, wishing he would come back, praying. But just the knowledge that he wasn’t gone forever caused a flood of tears to sting the backs of my eyes.

  “Please, don’t cry.”

  “Holy sh—” Glitch fell out of his chair and Brooklyn yelped before plastering her hands over her mouth.

  I closed my lids. His voice was like water on a scorched desert plain, welcome and nourishing.

  “I’m sorry, Lorelei. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Without another thought, without the slightest hesitation, I turned and ran into his arms. He lifted me off the ground and held me for a long time, his embrace powerful, his body warm and enveloping.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” I said between hysterical laughs. “I’m sorry.”

  “You? You have no reason to be.”

  “After everything you did for me, after you saved my life over and over, I turned on you in a heartbeat.”

  “You didn’t turn on me,” he said with a release of air. “You were scared.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said as I squeezed my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. “You’re back. I was so worried.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Brooklyn said, “stop apologizing. And, you,” she said menacingly at Jared, “just where the bloody heck have you been?”

  He buried his face against my neck. “I thought I should keep my distance for a while, you know, in case you never wanted to see me again.”

  “Please,” Glitch said, “if shortstop and moon pie never wanted to see you again, you’d be the first to know.”

  I leaned back to look up at him. His jaw was darkened by days of stubble, his hair tangled, unkempt, his eyes bright with emotion. After a moment, his full mouth tilted into a lopsided grin and I couldn’t help the sharp inhalation that slipped past my lips. He totally looked like a supermodel.

  He glanced at Cameron and nodded once. “Cameron.”

  “Jared,” Cameron said.

  Their greeting was cool, but even that was better than the alternative: nine rounds in the McAlister house. Jared’s dark eyes bored in to mine. I didn’t wait this time. Life was too short. I leaned in and kissed him right on the mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, like we each needed to drink from the other. My lips parted and his tongue took instant advantage, tasting and exploring. The heat he exuded seeped into the fabric of my pj’s. He sighed into my mouth and I breathed him in.

  “This is awkward,” I heard Glitch say.

  Just then a knock sounded at the door. “Honey, can we come in?” It was my grandmother.

  I broke off the kiss and jumped to the ground. Dizzy from the heavy panting, I glanced around to hide the evidence before realizing there was no evidence to hide. Okay, fine, I could do this. After a deep, calming breath, and a quick smile tossed to Jared, I stepped back, smoothed my pajamas, then said, “Come on in, Grandma.”

  She opened the door slowly and peeked around it. “You ate,” she said, sounding pleased.

  I glanced back at the empty pizza box. “Oh, yeah. I’m feeling much better.”

  With a pretense of pleasure, she offered me her ulterior-motive smile. I should’ve known she was up to something. “Good,” she said, examining the room quickly, “then you kids won’t mind coming downstairs for a bit.”

  “But—”

  She closed the door before I could argue. Then, when I least expected it, she reopened it and said, “All of you.”

  “But—”

  Nope. She was gone.

  Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick …

  “Um, maybe you should get dressed,” Glitch suggested.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re probably right.” I offered Jared a shy smile, only just realizing what I must look like, before scrounging up a clean pair of jeans and a plain black tee. “’Kay, be right out,” I said, hurrying to the bathroom, suddenly unable to meet Jared’s eyes. I swore on all things holy, if my hair looked bad, God and I were going to have a long talk in church this Sunday.

  I changed quickly, brushed my teeth, and ran wet fingers through the mop on top of my head more commonly referred to as hair. It wasn’t horrible, but there was always room for improvement. I let it fall down my back and offered up a silent prayer in the hopes that Jared liked redheads. Or dark auburn heads. Either way. He didn’t seem to mind my coloring. So far, so good. A boy once broke up with me in the third grade because he said he didn’t realize I had red hair until we went out onto the playground at recess. Our love had lasted twenty minutes. So as long as Jared and I stayed out of the sun, we should be good.

  I stepped out to face the masses, though I zeroed in on Jared instantly. He was lounging against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he appraised me, appreciation lighting his face.

  “Are we ready?” I asked, my voice more shaky than I’d hoped.

  “I ain’t going down there,” Cameron said.

  Brooklyn turned to him, mouth agape. “She said all of us, Cameron. Which means you too.”

  “The hell it does,” he said, making for the fire escape.

  She lunged forward and caught his T-shirt. “No way. If one of us faces the firing squad, all of us face the firing squad.”

  “Those are illegal now, right?” Glitch asked.

  “Do you think this is about the Southerns’ piano?” I asked, suddenly nervous. That thing must have cost a fortune. “We are so busted.”

  Jared’s mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t think anyone down there is worried about the Southerns’ piano.”

  “Well, okay, I guess that’s good.” I raised my brows to Brooklyn, who nodded in halfhearted agreement, clearly worried now herself.

  When we started downstairs, Jared wrapped a hand around mine as Brooklyn dragged Cameron by the hem of his shirt. Glitch brought up the rear. The stairs led to the kitchen, but I heard voices in the living room beyond that. And not just my grandparents’. Startled, I asked Jared over my shoulder, “What did you mean anyone down there? Who’s here?”

  “Lorelei.” He pulled me to a stop just before we got to the living room door and stepped closer. “Whatever is said, whatever is done, I want you to remember who I am.”

  After a failed attempt at a smile, I asked, “Who are you?” I was so completely confused. Who was in my house? And what did this have to do with Jared?

  He let out a long, withering sigh. “I’m the same guy you knew five minutes ago. I haven’t changed.”

  I forced myself to think rationally. What did I really know about Jared? Every bit of information I received about him conflicted with some other bit, like trying to put together a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite fit. But I knew he’d saved my life. More than once. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

  Cameron stepped behind him and spoke over his shoulder. “Worried?” he asked with a confident smirk.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Jared in concern.

  Cameron strolled past us and slid the pocket door that led to the living room. “Showtime,” he said, a menacing grin on his face.

  The door opened, and a room full of people stood and faced us, like a surprise party without the party.

  SANCTUARY

  Bright lights illuminated face after face, most of whose I recognized, including Sheriff Villanueva, I noted with a rush of panic. Compared to the Southerns’ great room, ours was minuscule, but if I’d stopped to count, I knew I’d find at least fifty people in our living room, probably more.

  I took a wary step back, but Brooklyn took my other hand and led me in. With her eyes on the sheriff, she said under her breath, “You were right. We are so busted.” Then she looked up and screeched to a halt. “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?”

  Brooklyn’s mom held out her arms to her. She was the most beautiful African-American woman I’d ever seen, petite like Brooke with the
same delicate shape and soft brown skin. But her dad was tall and thin and almost as white as I was. He was super good-looking, though, so I understood the attraction.

  Surveying the room, I saw Glitch’s parents as well.

  He spotted them at the same time and looked back and forth between the two in shock. “Dad, what’s going on?”

  “Cameron.”

  We all turned to see that even Cameron’s dad was there. In that moment, Cameron’s expression turned from cocky to almost embarrassment. “Dad, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why?” he asked, stepping toward his son.

  Cameron towered over him, as he did everyone else in the room except for Jared, the boys like two sides of the same coin, one dark and one light.

  “Don’t you think I’ve stayed away long enough?” he asked.

  Cameron tensed as though suddenly annoyed. “Why now?” he asked under his breath. “You’ve never believed before. Why now?”

  Mr. Lusk placed a supportive hand on his arm. “Son, I’ve always believed. Deep down, I’ve always known what you are. Pastor Bill called me and, well, clearly there are bigger things at stake than what even your mother could’ve imagined. It’s time I got in the game instead of sitting on the sidelines.” His mouth thinned into a solid line of regret. “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you.” He glanced around. “For all you kids.”

  Cameron shoved his hands into his jeans pockets in discomfort. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I’d been so caught up in their discussion, I didn’t realize until that moment that everyone in the room was gawking at Jared. Including my grandparents.

  My grandfather snapped to attention. He offered Jared a smile and held out his hand. “We’re the Order of Sanctity, or, as we like to call ourselves now, the Sanctuary, and we’re here to help in any way we can.”

  I blinked in confusion. The Sanctuary was the name of our church and most of these people attended on a regular basis. “Grandpa, what’s going on?” But he continued to stare at the supreme being standing before him, his hand held in limbo. Did he actually know what Jared was? What he could do?

  Jared scanned the room, stopping for a split second on each face before returning his attention to Grandpa. After sizing him up, he asked, “Do you know what I am?”

  My grandmother’s face lit up. She took Grandpa’s outstretched hand and said, “You’re a messenger. An angel.”

  Jared sighed as though disappointed, then raised one sleeve of his T-shirt, displaying the band of symbols tattooed around his biceps. “Archangel,” he corrected.

  My grandfather lifted the glasses dangling around his neck and stepped closer to examine the tattoo. He stilled. For a long moment he stood there, his face turning ashen in disbelief before taking a wary step back.

  “You’re—”

  “I am Azrael,” Jared said, matter-of-fact.

  A uniform gasp echoed off the walls as every single face in the room froze. People started inching back, including my grandma’s best friend, Betty Jo, putting as much distance between them and Jared as they possibly could. A few looked panic stricken. And two ran, the Mortons, a young couple who’d only recently moved to Riley’s Switch. And they actually ran. They stumbled over themselves trying to get to the side door. Just as they were about to cross the threshold, every door in the house slammed shut in one thunderous clap. The couple stopped and looked back at Jared, their eyes so wide with fear I felt sorry for them, even as a shiver of fear rushed down my own spine.

  The sheriff went for his gun in reflex. He caught himself, left the gun in the holster but kept his hand close.

  Grandpa lifted his chin, steeled himself as though accepting his fate. “We ask you, Prince Azrael, to spare us.”

  “You’re a prince?” Glitch asked, oblivious of the reaction of the room.

  Jared ignored him, inspecting the sheriff for an uncomfortable moment, then answered my grandfather. “If you have to ask, then you know nothing of me.”

  “We know that you have as many names as your fallen brother Lucifer,” Grandpa said, “some misconceptions created through superstition and ignorance, but most hard-earned.” He inched closer. “We know that you’ve been absent from Heaven for so long, many of the beings there, the same ones that celebrate your conquests, also fear your return.” Another step. “We know that you are the only celestial being ever created, ever, with the autonomy to take human life. None of your brethren, not even the other archangels, have that power. It is why you were created and it is yours alone.” He took another step to emphasize his next statement. “And we know what you’re here to do.”

  “We’re not your enemies, Your Grace,” Grandma said, her voice quivering almost as much as her hands. “We’re your servants.”

  I hurried to her side and wrapped my arm around her waist, trying to assure her Jared would not hurt them, any of them. She hugged me to her before returning her attention to Jared.

  He looked down at us, and I could see for the first time the nobility in his stance, the absolute power in the set of his shoulders. He took stock of me for what seemed like forever before asking Grandpa, “Why does she not know?”

  The question surprised Grandpa. I could tell. But it surprised me as well. I raised my brows at my grandfather, growing tired of the riddles and the half truths that seemed to have permeated every corner of my life. Why did I not know what? What was all this about? Why was everyone here, and how did they know about Jared?

  “We were going to tell her,” Grandpa said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “everything, when she turned eighteen. But things have … accelerated.”

  “So, you’re a prince?” Glitch repeated. Still oblivious.

  “What good would it do, Reaper?” Cameron said, coming to stand dangerously close to Jared. “She doesn’t need to know.” He tilted his head toward Brooklyn. “None of them need to know.”

  Jared’s head tilted in curiosity. “They have a right to know what they are.”

  “And what are they?” Cameron asked, closing the distance between them.

  “Not again,” Brooklyn said, but her parents had wrapped her in their arms and were pulling her out of harm’s way. “Mom, Dad, it’s okay. They do this crap all the time.”

  “Casey,” Glitch’s mom said, waving him toward her. She had soft brown hair and startlingly green eyes, her coloring so opposite that of her Native American husband’s who beckoned Casey closer as well. “Casey, come here.”

  Glitch shrugged and threaded through the crowd to her. “Is he seriously a prince?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  She clutched him to her, then turned back.

  Jared answered Cameron, and as usual, his answer didn’t actually answer anything. “They are taken.”

  “Calling the kettle black, now?” Cameron asked, his blue eyes glittering with a not-so-subtle warning. “Maybe your new friends need to know what they call you. The shadow prince. The sin-eater. The grim reaper.” He leaned tauntingly close. “The Angel of De—”

  In an instant, Jared pushed Cameron so hard, he flew across the room and slammed into the back wall. The house literally shook with the force, and everyone ducked, though they needn’t have. Cameron landed well above their heads, then fell forward to land solidly on his hands and feet. I cringed. His body had left an indentation in our drywall. I wondered if it was just me, or if Jared really was growing stronger with every minute that passed. Not that Cameron cared.

  Mr. Lusk had started forward, but a couple of the men held him back as Cameron coughed and fought for air. After a tense moment, he stood, squared his shoulders, then gave Jared a measured look, one that held such hatred, my insides groaned in response.

  “Now we’re talking,” he said, thrilled that Jared had given him an excuse for another world war.

  Just as both boys started toward each other, I rushed in between them and shouted as loud as I possibly could. “That is it!” I glared from one to the other as my grandmother gasped i
n horror. “I have absolutely had it!” I turned and poked Cameron in the chest. “Really? This again, really?” Then I gave my full attention to Jared. “And how old are you exactly?”

  “Lor, honey,” Grandma said, her voice soft with fear.

  “I swear, if either of you lifts another finger toward the other, I will murder you both in your sleep.”

  Brooklyn broke free from her parents and marched over to Cameron. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me.” She reached up and took him by the ear.

  “Ouch, holy crap,” he said, bending to her will. And her razor-sharp nails.

  She led him to the now-closed kitchen door, then turned back to Jared. He offered a surrendering nod, relinquishing his hold on the door. She opened it and sat Cameron at the table before sitting on the chair next to him.

  Cameron rubbed his ear. “That hurt.”

  A few of us followed them into the kitchen. I sat beside Brooke and motioned for Jared to sit next to me while my grandparents, the sheriff, Glitch, and a few others gathered around. More filed in as room allowed, and I realized for the first time the parents of the creature whose name shall not be spoken aloud were there. They were so … blond.

  “If we can now have a decent conversation,” I said, issuing a silent warning to the boys, “I would like to find out from my grandparents exactly what is going on. And you,” I added, looking directly at Jared, “aka, the Angel of Death—a blank I filled in days ago when Cameron first mentioned it—will stop trying to kill said Cameron every time he brings up your vast and varied nicknames.” I couldn’t blame Cameron for calling Jared the grim reaper. I’d done some research, and in many cultures the reaper and the Angel of Death were one and the same, interchangeable entities that took the souls of humans for any number of reasons. “And you,” I continued, nailing Cameron with a baleful look, “will stop trying to pick a fight with the freaking Angel of Death. Really?” My brows shot up in disbelief. “The Angel of Death? You can’t find a defensive lineman to pick on?”