Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  She sat down next to Ronan, who appeared intent on the action. A team of guys played basketball and a bunch of girls in cheerleading uniforms practiced their routines. Not sure why they were there, Jordan inquired, “Hey, what’s up? Are we trying out for cheerleading?”

  “Look there.” Ronan flicked sleek hair over her shoulder and jut her chin toward the girls on the floor.

  “What or who I am supposed to be looking for? There’s lots of people down there.”

  With a baton-like finger, Cayden pointed to a girl she recognized from the woods. “Right there. Beth Schaffer.”

  Beth looked regal in the fitted cheerleader outfit. Her curvy body executed a twirling round off and landed perfectly. Jordan suddenly felt inadequate. Without thinking, she let her hair fall over her petite face and absently pulled at the hem of her worn green and yellow T-shirt.

  “She makes me sick.” Ronan crunched her nose as if she smelled something rotten. “Did you see the way she put her arms around Mark, like they’re already hooking up?”

  Ronan’s conclusion, though totally wrong, disturbed Jordan. Just thinking of Markus hooking up with anyone filled her stomach with nettling butterflies. What if they actually knew Mark was an angel—a real live angel?

  Ronan leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and lowering her voice. “Concentrate your energy on Beth.” She glanced at Jordan. “Listen and learn. The power within you is great…concentrate.” Ronan, Paisley, and Cayden centered their narrowing eyes on Beth. They appeared to be in some kind of a trance.

  Ronan’s lips stirred ever so faintly as she stared—utterly absorbed. She hissed, “Not me, Jordan. Focus on Beth…”

  Jordan jolted as a sharp cry of pain drew her attention to the gym floor, where Beth had landed wrong after a routine pyramid. Slumped on the wooden floor, she rocked, gripping her ankle. Cheerleaders rushed to her aid and carried her to the bleachers.

  Paisley and Cayden’s faces mirrored Ronan’s smirk. She signaled the girls with seeming approval. A tall guy with unruly hair loped over from the basketball court. Markus stopped beside Beth and checked her ankle. Even from where they sat, Jordan saw Beth wince in pain. Markus raised Beth’s leg to the bleacher, and the girls packed it with ice.

  Apparently, Jordan’s instincts were correct, but the girls weren’t demons. During her mom’s tutorage, they’d read her father’s manuscript inside and out. More recently, his journal had advanced her otherworldly studies. Her new friend, Ronan, more than likely had some type of psychic power.

  Beth shooed Markus away. He jogged slowly back to the court, peering over his shoulder at Beth. A pang of envy touched Jordan when she realized that Beth was very nice-looking, even when grimacing in pain.

  “I knew he’d be here,” Ronan said peevishly. “Beth has her claws deep into him.”

  With a wry smile, Jordan watched Markus bag the ball into the net with a high jump shot. As wacky as it seemed, she couldn’t help noticing his well-developed build. She shook her head over the improbability of an angel playing basketball.

  Ronan arranged her arms over the girls’ shoulders in a conspiratorial huddle. In a measured undertone, she said, “We’re g–o–o–o–d.” Her eyes targeted each girl. “The four of us together are going to try that again, but this time, we’ll concentrate on Mark. We have the power on our side.” Her gaze fixed on Jordan. “I feel the force, don’t you?”

  I sense something.

  Four pairs of eyes were riveted on Jordan’s angel.

  Markus halted and looked at them with a lancing gaze. Ronan jerked back on the bench, appearing confused, her concentration broken. She rose and the girls filed out of the gym.

  “What was that all about?” Jordan questioned.

  “You’ll see.” Paisley performed a sneaky, excited wiggle. “Are you intrigued?”

  “Kind of,” Jordan replied, wondering what she was in for.

  The rim of Ronan’s mouth curled into a secretive smile. “Spend the night at my house on Saturday. My father’s out of town, again, and the girls are keeping me company. We’ll play some games.”

  Paisley and Cayden snickered.

  “I guarantee a hair-raising good time,” Ronan added.

  Again, the girls covered their mouths, holding back the laughter.

  Alerted rather than deceived by the contrived joke, Jordan said, “I’m sure it’ll be all right.” They had accepted her.

  JORDAN HEARD SOMEONE puttering in the kitchen, and assuming it was her grandmother, she yelled, “Em, I’m home.”

  Unexpectedly, her mom answered. “Did you have a good day?” Seeley smiled and angled a shoulder on the doorframe, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

  “What are you doing home from work so early?”

  “Come in here and sit down. I’d like to speak to you.”

  Judging by the sound of her voice, her mom seemed edgy. She dumped her book-bag on the nearest chair and hung her jacket on the rack. Did Ezekiel snitch about her tightrope act, or Markus, or her vision?

  “Here,” Seeley said, handing her a glass of orange juice. “Sit down for a minute.”

  She observed the strain on her mom’s face while taking a sip of juice.

  “I’m going on a business trip.” Seeley scratched the side of her nose. “I guess that’s what you’d call it.” She clasped her hands in her lap and jiggled her knee.

  “I don’t know what you mean? Like a writing assignment for the paper?”

  “Not exactly.” She crossed her leg over her knee and the jiggling ceased. “Remember how hard I tried to get your father’s book published?” She waited for Jordan’s nod. “Well, years ago, I spent lots of money to self-publish the book. That’s one reason why we’ve lived with your grandparents. The other reason was for your safety.” She put her hand up to stop Jordan’s protest. “Let me finish.”

  “Father James has been instrumental in helping to distribute the book throughout district parishes and the state. Widespread interest in the book has taken an unexpected turn. There are people just like us out there, hunting and encountering demons.”

  “Yes-s-s…” Jordan said breathily with a fist pump. She’d wondered if they were the only two fighting the vile breed. Now, there were numbers.

  “Father James will stay behind to supervise you,” Seeley continued. “At any time of the day or night, you can contact him. Don’t forget the holy water and wear your holy medal. You understand?” She cast Jordan a blazing look.

  “I’m convening with several groups to discuss…tactics.” Unclasping her fingers and kneading her brow, Seeley sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Tactics?” Jordan sounded cynical. “Mom, say it honestly. Methods of slaughtering demons and sending them back to hell where they belong.”

  Seeley’s lips turned at the corners in a tight smile. Mother and daughter nodded in unison.

  Banging through the door with arms loaded with grocery bags, Henry and Em interrupted them. Seeley and Jordan rose to lend a hand.

  That night, the four of them dined on chicken potpie and chatted happily. When Seeley discussed her departure in the morning, a tense undercurrent enveloped the table.

  “Everyone has my cell number,” she reminded, seemingly to keep the topic light. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll keep you informed. Mr. Donavan at the paper said I’d have a job waiting for me, so don’t worry about that.”

  After drying the dishes, Jordan sulked to her bedroom and crashed on the bed, slinging her arm over her eyes. She hated being left behind. She worried her mother might get hurt—or worse. She was grateful for her grandparent’s protection, but she was looking forward to when she’d accompany her mom on her travels. A wink of movement alerted Jordan as her mother sat on the side of the bed, drawing her into her arms.

  “I’m an optimist,” Seeley breathed into her ear. “I believe love conquers hate, faith overcomes despair, and that life is stronger than death. We’ll be together in spirit.
I love you, Jordan.”

  “Love ya back, Mom. Be careful.”

  Jordan listened to her in the next room, opening and closing drawers as she packed. Ronan’s sleepover! She decided not to bother her mom with the particulars. Deluding herself into thinking it was no big deal. She grabbed her new cell phone and called a friend instead. Cayden answered after the third ring.

  Without beating around the bush, Jordan said, “Cayden, we’ve known each other for a while now. You never mentioned your friends, Paisley and Ronan, and I’m a curious about what they’re into. What kind of games are we playing Saturday?”

  “I think it’s great that your mom’s letting you go to school now,” Cayden commented, evading her question. “People won’t think you’re such a geek— Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I know what kids are saying about me,” Jordan said, waiting for her to continue.

  “Ronan and Beth Schaffer were best friends for years, and the most popular girls in school. I was lucky enough to hang with the group last year, but something happened, and…um…it had to do with boyfriends and jealousy and crap. Beth’s group parted ways from Ronan…and…and— Maybe we should talk about this some other time? Saturday will be a riot. Don’t worry. I gotta go.”

  Jordan drew the cell from her ear and stared at the screen. Did she just hang up on me? She had a hunch there was a lot of story missing between Cayden’s stumblings.

  Showering and shoving on a pair of sweats, she could still hear her mother bustling about the room. She pounced on the mattress and rolled under the warm quilt. After a perplexing meditation, she whispered, “Markus, Markus.”

  As he materialized next to the bed, she propped up and sat cross-legged. “Finally. We need to talk.”

  “I’ve found a place to live,” Markus related quietly. Transforming into the young man she saw at school, he straddled the bedside chair.

  “I don’t get it. Angels are supposed to be anonymous. Why are you creating an identity?”

  “My Father’s not pleased with Lucifer and his legions, especially when it comes to children and young adults seeking answers.”

  Amazed, she stared at him. “You’ve spoken with God?”

  “Occasionally I have the awesome pleasure.” An inner glow softened his chiseled features.

  “Cool.” She couldn’t fathom that reality. “Then can you explain why He can’t just squash Lucifer?”

  Markus inhaled, expanding his chest, then blew out a gusty puff. Pure, violet-blue eyes fastened on her. “Lucifer was a reverent angel. But vanity and pride, his greatest sins, veined a deadly pattern through him. He wanted equality with our Father. Lucifer became disobedient and felt beneath the duty of babysitting humans. His nature was despoiled, and he could no longer abide in the kingdom. His odium grew toward humanity. Lucifer acquired disciples, other angelic beings who freely followed him, and were cast to a place that you call hell.”

  Markus’s balled hand tapped his upper thigh. “To answer your question a little. People are blinded by greed, lust, and so on. You get the picture. To squash Lucifer and all that he stands for, we’d have to wipe out a grave majority of souls.”

  “Very…very interesting.” She stroked her chin. “You still avoided part of my question. Anonymity is the usual angel rule. Why are you human?”

  His eyes evolved from a violet-blue to a reflective amethyst, and his tone sharpened like a blade’s edge. “You’d be dead today if I hadn’t been there to tote you off that log.”

  Her eyebrows popped up, then drew together. “I thought I handled it well.”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  She felt and heard the cold reserve in his voice.

  “Exemplify yourself with these teenagers.”

  Due to the severity of his expression, she stifled her laughter. “Markus, these kids aren’t turned on with thy old ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ bit.”

  “You need to prove, by example.”

  Jordan examined the angel’s agitated face. What did he expect of her? Should she walk around the school like a righteous nun? No way. That’s not me. He just needed to understand and listen to her.

  “I registered in school because of that awful dream,” she reminded him. “And you know that. I thought I might be able to stop those creepy spirits, or whatever. Now I think Ronan will talk to me. She’s definitely behind some of the freakdom.”

  She paused, peeking at his unreceptive expression. “But there’s more, right? Without you, in person, in human form, I’d be dead. Correct?”

  Markus dipped his chin to his chest and stared at her from beneath his level brow. “We’re not playing by the rules.”

  “Well, neither is the devil, so who the hell cares?”

  “You need to be careful,” he said. “Evil snares are all around you.”

  Jordan winced at his choice of words. “Then tell me. What should I expect from Ronan? She’s dabbling with some kind of power.”

  “Ronan’s lashing out in hatred because of her maimed mind. She needs help before it’s too late.” He pushed off from the chair. “I need to go before I’m missed.”

  “Wait, Markus, where are you staying?”

  “Deacon Schaffer was kind enough to take in a youthful stranger who’s considering the priesthood.”

  “Deacon Schaffer, as in Beth Schaffer’s Dad?” Jordan said.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, no,” she groaned. “Ronan won’t like that at all.”

  Markus tilted his head, clueless. “Why not?”

  “Angels. You don’t understand teenage girls, do you?”

  Markus hitched up his broad shoulders and was gone in a flash.

  YOUR POWER DOES NOT

  COME FROM ABOVE

  WITH HER GRANDPARENTS’ permission to spend the night at Ronan’s, Jordan packed a small duffle bag with accessories and her flannel pajamas. Then, on second thought, she ripped the pajamas from the bag, stuffed in a pair of sweats, and looked longingly at the cozy flannels with prints of playful puppies.

  “What about church on Sunday?” Henry said.

  “I go so much. One week won’t matter. The kids already think I’m some kind of obsessed holy roller.”

  “Jordan,” protested Em, “I remember what your mother went through growing up, but she shouldered the burden without such comments.”

  “But, Em, I didn’t say anything wrong. It’s true.”

  “We worry about you and your mom,” Henry said in a disgruntled voice. “We’re not completely ignorant of what’s going on. Your mom holds back from telling us all the details. She thinks she’s sparing us, and perhaps, it’s a good thing.” He looked at his concerned wife of fifty years. “All we can do is stand by and support the two of you. Now, what’s so important at this girl’s house?”

  Jordan felt miserable at that moment. She dearly loved her grandparents, even if they could be meddlesome and suffocating. In the nicest voice possible, she said, “Henry, it’s part of growing up. You know—friends, parties, sleepovers. Didn’t mom have friend sleepovers?”

  Her grandparents shared a discreet glance “No, not really,” said a rueful Em. “Your mom was somewhat reclusive. We thought she’d become a nun. Her spiritual advisor, Father Posluszny, said Seeley needed to live her life.”

  “Good for him.” Jordan pictured her mom as a hard-assed mother superior, jamming her Naturalizers into a demon. “But I’m not my mother. Henry, didn’t you say you wanted me to go to school so I could have friends?”

  “You’re right.” He wilted, his face seeming to age another year.

  “We’re glad you have friends.” Em was obviously tiring. “Aren’t we, Henry?”

  Henry ambled to his bedroom, incoherently grumbling.

  AS PER RONAN’S instructions, Thrill was picking Jordan up. And now, more than a little nervous, she paced back and forth wearing the carpet bare. Em and Henry watched her every move. When two beeps sounded from the driveway, she shrugged on her jacket and bid her gra
ndparents good-bye. Stepping outside, she peered at the bluish-gray sky and predicted snow. She belted the jacket firmly, barring the cold.

  As she got into the car, Thrill’s welcoming smile warmed her cheeks. She adjusted the seat belt and aimed at being carefree, at least on the outside. “Hi, Thrill, is Rolly coming tonight?”

  “He’s meeting us there.” Thrill sped down the driveway and headed for Ronan’s.

  Jordan peeked over her shoulder at the window, hoping her grandparents hadn’t seen his speedy reverse, or she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Self-conscious and tongue-tied, she was alone in a car with a boy, for the first time. And that boy was Thrill McKenna, the celebrated Red Hawks quarterback and the catch of the school, which she now knew from keeping tabs on the gossip in the lunchroom and restrooms for signs of the unusual—girls liked to talk.

  Attempting not to appear obvious, Jordan stared out of the windshield, all the while inspecting the quarterback with her excellent peripheral vision. Thrill kept his burnt sienna hair short. Dark stubble highlighted the square chin that went with his straight, pleasing nose. He wore a maroon fleece pullover and light denim jeans, but had discarded the traditional sneakers for a pair of cowboy boots. She strived to maintain her poise, as if she rode in cars with guys on a regular basis.

  Thrill glimpsed in her direction, his lips twitched. Did he notice me checking him out?

  “I should warn you. Ronan and the girls like to play games that I’m not too crazy about,” he said. “I don’t get off on that creepy stuff. Rolly and I probably won’t stay long.”

  His words were not what she’d expected. Though, Jordan was happy that Thrill and Rolly weren’t part of the cult as she’d suspected. Unfortunately, her life was full of creepy stuff that he didn’t like. Her thoughts then turned to the games mentioned. He definitely did not mean charades or whatnot.

  “What kind of games?”

  “You’ll see, soon enough.”

  In a village like Elma, most people lived within minutes of town, and Ronan’s house was only a few miles from Jordan’s. Parking the Chevelle along the curb, he nodded toward the house. “This is it, and there’s Rolly’s car. He must be here already.”