I moaned as the conversation that had put me in this position suddenly came rushing back. Dothan wanted me to believe Nathaniel was a murderous archangel. My mind rejected the notion, conjuring up an image of my kindly grandfather, sitting across the table from me.
I drew in a gasp, struggling onto my elbows. “What time is it?” I demanded, tugging at the blanket.
“What? Jamie, lie back down.” He pushed on my shoulder gently.
“No, I have to get home.” I knocked his arm away with as much force as I could manage. “Nathaniel will be home soon, and I have to make dinner.” After everything I’d put Nathaniel through, I didn’t want to disappoint him yet again. I stood up quickly, swaying slightly on unsteady legs. A wave of dizziness sent the room swimming, and I grabbed on to the saddle rack until it passed.
“Jamie, you can’t drive anywhere. I’ll take you home.”
A shrill, hysterical laugh burst from my lips. “Yeah, no thanks. I fell for that once before.”
His expression grew thunderous, hardening the planes of his face. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he glared at me.
I yanked open the door to the tack room to find Beau still patiently waiting in the aisle, secured by crossties. Thank God I was finished grooming him. I unclipped him and led him to his stall, uncomfortably aware of Dothan’s gaze following me.
I stomped past him toward the wide doorway to the stable. He followed me out into the afternoon twilight, disapproval emanating from him in forceful currents. I didn’t care.
Thankfully my tack was already packed away in my car. Dothan lingered behind me, watching while I fished around in my grooming kit for my keys. I whirled on him, pointing my car key at him as though it were a weapon. “I don’t want your help, Dothan.”
He shifted his weight, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed skeptically.
I couldn’t help but echo his doubts in my own mind. In all honesty, I wanted many things from Dothan. Things other than just his help; things I could never have. “I don’t need your help,” I amended. With a defiant lift of my chin, I turned back to my car.
He didn’t try to stop me as I slid into the driver’s seat and jammed the keys into the ignition. Holding my breath, I twisted the key while punching the gas. The engine sprang to life, and I kept my eyes glued to the mirror as I backed up.
The little parking lot was practically empty at this hour. I had plenty of room to tear past Dothan, literally leaving him in my dust. When the White’s house came into view, I eased off the accelerator. You never knew when a pack of dogs would come bounding across the fields to investigate the driveway traffic. Usually they were more interested in arrivals than departures, but I also didn’t want to take any chances—or be seen driving like a lunatic on the White’s peaceful property.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, I contemplated dinner options in an attempt to avoid thinking about Dothan. It was a quick diversion, since I didn’t have too many choices at this late hour. There was some leftover ground beef in the fridge. I’d whip up some instant mashed potatoes, open a can of green beans, and throw together a shepherd’s pie.
That settled, my mind quickly returned to the half angel currently ruining my life. A harsh, barking laugh tore at my throat as I slowed for a stop sign. Maybe that was a stretch; my life didn’t have much further to slide at the moment. Then again, if Dothan hurt Nathaniel in any way, he’d see my own brand of vengeance, Nephilim or no.
He hadn’t said he’d abandon his plans to kill my grandfather. But he had told me he cared about me. A dull ache burned through my chest. Why had he even said that? The secret was out—nothing compelled him to keep up the façade. Maybe it was true, a desperate inner voice whispered tentatively.
I smacked it down. Even if it was true, it didn’t matter. Not when I weighed the flimsy words against his actions.
The country store where we’d stopped for lunch came into view, taunting me from the right side of the road. I fixed my gaze straight ahead, stomping on the gas pedal. Almost home.
Hopefully I could lose myself in cooking, cleaning, and studying. It seemed absurd, based on what was happening in my life, but I still had homework that required my attention. It wasn’t going to do itself.
But if I finished quickly, maybe I could run over to Sam’s. I desperately needed someone to talk to. Could I confide in her? I knew without a doubt she was trustworthy. My fingers tightened on the wheel as I mulled it over. Unfortunately, it didn’t feel like this was my secret to share.
The turn off the main road appeared, and I flicked on my high beams as I left what qualified as our business district behind. Even if I did try to explain the situation to Sam, she’d most certainly have trouble believing me. I was struggling with it myself, and I’d actually witnessed the strange events which seemed to be slowly nudging me toward acceptance.
My heavy sigh sounded especially wretched in the dark silence of the car. I would have to figure this out on my own. An idea flickered as my headlights swept onto Locust Street.
I rolled to a stop in my usual parking space along the curb. The house was shrouded in an uninviting veil of inky blackness; I had forgotten to leave a light on before I’d dragged myself off to the stable. A shiver traveled down my spine as I searched for threats among the deep shadows.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but my pulse spiked just the same. I contemplated my choices for a moment, but they were very limited: if I stayed in the car until Nathaniel arrived, dinner would be very late. He’d be annoyed, and therefore less willing to answer the probing questions I hoped to casually pose during the meal.
My cell phone. The thought dawned on my sluggish brain slowly. Please be charged, I prayed as I dug through the glove compartment. My trembling fingers found the button, and I exhaled in relief when the screen glowed in response. I input the emergency numbers so all I’d have to do was hit ‘call’ if I encountered any trouble. Armed with that small comfort, I slung my bag over my shoulder. My tack would have to stay locked in my car for tonight.
I studied the house one more time, deciding to go for the front door. It was closer to the line of tall hedges where I thought I’d seen someone once, but more visible to neighbors than my obscured entrance on the side. With my keys clutched in my right hand and my cell phone in my left, I dashed diagonally across the dark front lawn.
Chapter 21
My heart didn’t slow down until I heard Nathaniel’s key in the front door. I released a deep breath as I pulled on oven mitts. Despite making it inside safely, I couldn’t seem to relax while I was alone in the empty house. All this talk about supernatural beings and murder plots had my nerves balancing on a razor-sharp edge. Not to mention the fact that I now knew Nathaniel felt a weapon was necessary to protect whatever information was in those books. Every creak of a joist or clank of a pipe sent my imagination reeling.
I set the casserole dish down on a cast iron trivet and removed the oven mitts. My pulse skittered once more as I gathered my courage. You’re not doing anything wrong, I reminded myself silently. But the guilt pricking at my conscience told me differently. I was searching for evidence that would prove Dothan wrong—or right.
Nathaniel strode into the kitchen, inhaling appreciatively. “Smells good.”
“Thanks. I hope it tastes good.” I crossed toward the table, carrying the butter dish. As Nathaniel reached for the back of the chair, my arm shot out. “I’m so glad you’re home,” I announced breathlessly, grabbing his large hand in mine.
Beneath the chilly night air which clung to his skin, a sizzling current surged to meet my fingertips. “Ouch,” I yelped, more from surprise than pain. Snatching my hand away, I stared at him questioningly. While my unexpected touch had been staged, my confusion was genuine.
Nathaniel pulled back as well, rubbing his beefy hands together. “Well, now, that was quite a shock,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “The colder weather always brings out the static electricity. Are you o
kay?”
I nodded, plastering a smile on my face. “Yes. It just scared me. I’m already a little jumpy.” That was an understatement, I thought as I clasped my trembling fingers. Twice now, I’d touched him suddenly—without warning—and felt the electricity in his veins. And yet, there had been many times over the years he’d hugged me with no strange consequences. None of this made sense.
Nathaniel’s bushy brows drew together. “Are you glad I’m home because something’s happened?” His body grew rigid, his gaze darting suspiciously around the cozy kitchen.
“No, no. Everything’s fine. I’ve just been…nervous since Saturday.”
He relaxed infinitesimally. “It’s good to be cautious, but I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart. I don’t think we’ll have any more problems.” Pulling out his chair, he cocked his head as he reconsidered. “Is that boy still around?” he asked sternly, deep lines creasing his forehead.
“I haven’t seen him,” I lied, turning my face away as I moved back toward the stove. Why did I feel compelled to protect Dothan? I dug around the cluttered utensil drawer for a serving spoon with a little too much zeal, wincing at the resulting rattle. The noise seemed an appropriate soundtrack for my emotional state.
“I’m sure he’s long gone,” Nathaniel said, relaxing into his seat. “He has no reason to bother you further.”
I picked out a spoon, gripping it tightly while I framed my question. “Because he knows we don’t have what he’s after? Or all of it, I mean?”
The wind picked up outside, blowing leaves against the house. The dry scratching noise, magnified by the sudden silence in the kitchen, sent a shiver down my spine. I heaped a small mountain of the casserole onto each plate, tucking a roll onto the side. My teeth bit into my lower lip as I waited for a reply.
“Correct,” Nathaniel finally answered. A small sigh slipped out before he continued. “He…couldn’t use it even if he had it. Unfortunately, he had formed some misguided ideas.”
A phrase from earlier suddenly slammed into the forefront of my mind: angels can only be killed by other angels. That’s what Dothan had said in the tack room today. But Dothan wasn’t exactly an angel, and apparently Nathaniel was an especially powerful one. Whatever was in that book might not even be of use to Nephilim.
Another piece of this bizarre puzzle slid into place, dislodging the corresponding chunk of my sanity. Dothan was hoping his angel’s blood would be enough to carry out his revenge—but he was part human too. The only one of his kind.
Still, he had to be wrong about Nathaniel’s role in his father’s death. Setting the plates on the table, I forced a note of casualness into my voice. “He seemed…angry with you.”
Nathaniel studied his food for a moment before reaching for the butter dish. “He thinks I took something from him.” His expression grew distant as he pulled apart his roll.
I sat down carefully, acutely aware of the trembling muscles in my legs. “Did you?”
“In a way, yes.”
My stomach pitched, sending bile burning up my throat. Could it be true? I stuffed a piece of bread in my mouth to counteract the sour acid. Hold it together, I reminded myself as I fought against the urge to retch.
Nathaniel misinterpreted my dismay. “You needn’t worry,” he added quickly. His fork hovered in midair as his green eyes locked with mine. “Whatever else he may think, he knows you have nothing to do with this. He also knows if he bothers you again, he won’t like the outcome.”
I nodded, swallowing the bread with an audible gulp. My hands twisted nervously under the table. With a savage tug, I ripped a tiny piece of skin away from my thumbnail.
“Now, how was school today?” The steel edge beneath his upbeat tone told me the previous subject was closed.
I prattled on while he ate, pushing my own food around my plate. The casserole was actually pretty good, I realized every time I managed a bite—my stomach just didn’t want to cooperate. A fresh cramp twisted my insides as I suddenly hit upon another way to fish for answers.
“We got assigned a group project in health class today. I’m going to work with Mallory and Lauren.” That was true. Despite my frazzled nerves, a tentative flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest. Last fall, I’d spent some time on the fringes of the studious clique to which these two girls belonged. Since the project requirements specified groups of three or four, I’d approached them hopefully. The fact that they’d agreed without obvious resentment gave me the tiniest hope things were improving at school.
Now for the complete fabrication. “We’re doing our project on cancer prevention—like screening for skin cancer, breast cancer, and prostate cancer.” Our project was actually on nutrition. Somehow the lie rolled off my tongue easily, despite the sweat pooling under my arms.
I reminded myself I was just trying to get to the truth; Nathaniel was obviously keeping things from me. But the nagging voice of my conscience pointed out I was actively lying, while Nathaniel was merely being evasive. To his credit, it seemed like he was being as honest as he could while protecting his secrets.
Still, I plunged ahead. “It made me wonder if you’ve had any of the checks they recommend for men.” Blood heated my cheeks, and I bent my head toward a forkful of food.
“Do I look sick to you?” His thick eyebrows lifted playfully.
I shook my head vigorously, my mouth full of food. “No, of course not,” I managed after I’d swallowed. The window screens rattled as a gust of wind lashed the house. I reached for my water glass, fixing my gaze on the bead of blood on my thumb. “But it’s…you know, preventative.”
“My motto’s always been ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’,” he pointed out with a wave of his fork to punctuate his words.
“I know,” I agreed, even though I knew no such thing. My mind couldn’t conjure up a single memory of Nathaniel using that phrase as his motto. “Honestly, you’re so healthy I can’t even remember the last time you had to see a doctor.”
Something flashed in his eyes before they shuttered. “You take good care of me,” he explained, gesturing toward his food.
Guilt twisted in my gut. I was done with this day. Exhaustion suddenly leeched every remaining ounce of energy from my bones. I slumped in my chair, trying to hide my fatigue with a weak smile. It felt more like a grimace.
Nathaniel frowned. “If it will set your mind at ease, I’ll look into making an appointment,” he said in a soothing voice.
Instead of plunging deeper, the knife in my belly loosened—because now he was the one lying. I knew it with every fiber of my being. And that knowledge only lent support to Dothan’s claim that my grandfather was a powerful and possibly deadly archangel.
I needed to get upstairs. “Thanks,” I answered, mustering enough volume to sound grateful. “Do you mind if I head upstairs? I’ve got lots of homework.” I was having trouble imagining climbing the steps; the thought of actually doing my homework seemed akin to swimming the English Channel.
The frown lines on Nathaniel’s face deepened as he studied me. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll clean up down here.”
No argument from me. “Thanks,” I repeated. I pushed myself up, my legs as wobbly as a newborn foal’s. With tremendous effort, I dragged myself across the kitchen and living room and up the stairs. The day’s events pressed against me like an unseen force, and I barely made it into the bathroom. I stripped off my riding clothes, leaving them in an uncharacteristic heap on the floor before I rolled under the covers of my mother’s queen-sized bed. Sleep crashed over me in a thunderous wave, mercifully drowning out the day’s events.
Chapter 22
I drove from the shop toward Huntsville High as fast as my usual safe driving habits would allow. I’d closed up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot, but Sam’s game started at the exact same time, so I was definitely going to miss part of the first half. My speedometer inched a few ticks past the speed limit as I turned onto the access road, leaving Center Street and its traffic lights behind.
Our portion of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Catoctin, formed dark crests against the moonlit clouds.
My right hand reached carefully for the bag on my passenger seat once I’d settled into the right lane. I had brought enough food to work to avoid having to stop anywhere.
I popped a small rectangle of homemade bread into my mouth. I’d baked pumpkin bread this time, since cans now lined all the October grocery store displays. Baking seemed like a fairly stupid activity to engage in, considering everything going on in my life, but at least it was methodical and productive. My mom had used baking to relax, so now I did. At the moment, I was grateful I’d made the effort. I grabbed another little slice off the foil on my lap.
It was good, despite the fact I’d used canned pumpkin. Moist crumbs stuck to my fingertips, and I licked them off appreciatively. I’d even made a loaf for the alleged archangel I lived with. I had not made one for the self-proclaimed half angel who haunted my dreams during the night, my thoughts during the school day, and the stable during my free afternoons.
No. I dragged my sticky fingers through my curls in an attempt to physically push him out of my mind. Pumpkin bread should not automatically lead to Dothan. Tonight was about cheering on the girls’ soccer team, and more importantly, Sam.
No legitimate spots remained in the student parking lot, so I made one for myself in the grass area regularly used by latecomers. I wasn’t going to waste time driving around the school. Hopping out of my car, I hurried toward the field, unwrapping a mint as I crossed the deserted lot.
The blazing lights revealed full bleachers, and I smiled to myself. Good for the girls. And good for me. It would be easy to blend in with the crowd. The smell of popcorn and hotdogs drifted through the cool air as I neared the concession stand. Someone had taken pains to decorate the white cement walls of the building with paper Halloween decorations. The painted form of an angry-looking hawk, our school mascot, now wore a black witch’s hat.
I settled into a safe seat at the top of the bleachers, near a group of parents. A few rows down, I spotted the glint of Sam’s mom’s reddish-blonde curls. I’d have to say hi to them at the half.
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