Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “Sure.” He threw her a charismatic smile. “We wouldn’t want Ronan to get mad at anyone.” He administered a lasting squeeze to her waist.

  As he headed toward Ronan, she scanned the room, meeting the penetrating eyes of her human angel dancing with Beth, so worldly that it almost scared her.

  After Thrill released Ronan, she wedged herself on Paisley’s seat, next to Jordan. “What’s going on with Mark?” she said. “He hasn’t asked you to dance yet.”

  “Why would he ask me?” A stumped Jordan fanned her warm neck.

  “The Ouija board, remember?” clarified Ronan. “Mark has to ask you to dance.”

  “That’s a bunch of crap,” she said tersely.

  A shadow shifted in Ronan’s eyes. “We shall see.” Her manner turned from temperate to precarious. “We shall see.”

  Beth’s lavish giggle drew their gazes to the dancers. Even though the tune had a fast tempo, she’d snuggled into Markus.

  “She’s way over-the-top,” Ronan hissed. “Let’s create a little havoc. What’d you say?”

  Hoping for a night free of spiritual warfare, Jordan sighed. “Ronan, be nice. Don’t start anything tonight of all nights.” Abruptly, a hollow squeal resonated in the hallway, then another.

  A girl screamed, running with flailing arms into the gym and looking as if she’d seen a ghost. Laughter flourished, and a voice shouted, “Hey, this isn’t Halloween,” generating more chuckles.

  The girl touted a pasty complexion and was speaking, actually crying to her friends and pointing. She wiped rolling tears along her face, sat in a chair, and caved in on herself.

  When Jordan saw a smirk riding on Ronan’s face, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She foraged in her purse for the vial, soaked her hand with holy water and walked over to Markus and Beth. Pretending to intrude, she placed her hand on Beth’s shoulders, coating her with traces of blessed water.

  “Beth, mind if I cut in?”

  Beth’s lips parted, ready to object, but she relinquished her place, giving Mark a yearning look. “Sure, he’s all yours, for the moment.”

  The upbeat tune ended, and a melodic slow song began. Jordan raised her hands to hang on Markus’s broad shoulders. She felt his warm hold on her back, and in silence, she moved stiffly, her legs pacing from side to side. It was odd, dancing with her angel.

  Markus broke the silence. “You danced easily enough with Thrill. Why so inflexible with me?”

  Looking up, Jordan caught his sarcastic grin and began to relax in his electrifyingly safe hold. For some reason, his fiery gaze flamed her cheeks. Ambivalent to the lapse of time, they glided together, two connected spirits magically skimming the floor.

  The song faded and the moment passed. “Ronan’s not happy,” Jordan said, dreamily. “She’s plotting something. Why don’t you ask her to dance, maybe that’ll cool her down?”

  “If you think that’ll help,” he replied. Their fingers laced and Markus guided her to the table.

  “For a guy who’s taken Ronan out a few times,” she said quietly. “It would seem logical to ask her to dance, and stop being so cozy with Beth.”

  “Jealous, Jordan?” drawled Markus, a half-smile lighting his face.

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “Did you happen to notice the guy sitting next to me—sweet, built, the high school’s star quarterback?”

  “Be watchful of Thrill,” he responded in a hushed voice.

  He dragged her chair back, and she shot him an inquiring look. Too late to ask what he meant by that remark.

  People played musical chairs during a twenty-minute break. Devouring cheesy pizza and greasy wings wasn’t quite the gourmet meal she’d imagined.

  Ronan swished past Jordan, saying bitterly, “I need some air. It stinks in here.

  “What’s up?” Jordan asked Paisley and Cayden.

  “You pissed her off.” Paisley glared at her.

  “What’d you mean?”

  “Ronan’s furious because Mark hasn’t asked her to dance,” Cayden explained. “Then you go and ask him, and I distinctly remember she told you not to ask, remember? Duh—the Ouija board—and then the way the two of you danced.”

  “You guys are idiots to think the Ouija can actually predict the future,” Jordan said. “And how many times do I have to tell you that Mark and I are friends.”

  Cayden and Paisley swapped looks.

  “It was like…magic,” Cayden said, becoming emotional. “The two of you seemed so…so…connected.”

  Yeah, connected since birth.

  Ronan returned with a venomous expression. Brooding, she dumped into the chair and closed her eyes, remaining quiet. Heavy dread encompassed them like a pall, and Jordan shuddered with the changing environment.

  A chilling breeze brushed Jordan’s face, and stiffening, she looked at Markus. His eyes flit to meet hers.

  An appalling gurgle brought him swiftly to his feet, overturning the chair. Beth was turning brick red. Her eyes bulged and her hands ringed her throat.

  Kids jumped up and riveted as Markus clutched Beth’s ribcage and performed the Heimlich maneuver. The ominous sensation dissipated, and a miniscule piece of pizza flew out of Beth’s mouth. She drew a life-saving breath, and her beautiful face evolved from red to her natural tan.

  “Wow, man. That was brilliant.” Thrill had a hero worship voice going on. “You got to teach me that.”

  Markus turned to Ronan, his gaze scathing. She shrugged apathetically.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, bending over Beth. “Would you like to go home?”

  “No, no,” she croaked with a broken smile. “I’m fine. The dance is only half over. That’s what I get for always eating too fast.”

  Beth’s friends, Kristen and Jeff, snickered lightly as relief rounded the table.

  The disc jockey revved up the gym with a fast beat, impelling them to dance and forget the incident. Markus tendered his hand to Ronan. A pleased guise of triumph crossed her face, and bumping Jordan’s chair as she passed, she threw possessive arms around him. Instead of leading Ronan toward the dancers, he escorted her out of the gym altogether.

  What the heck is that all about? In her opinion, and if she had to guess, Ronan had cast a spell to hurt Beth and threaten Markus. She feared the worst. Ronan knows Mark is an angel.

  “How about we dance?” Thrill’s spicy breath floated into her ear.

  Jordan’s thoughts evaporated with the touch of his hand, and her heartstrings fluttered when he brushed his fingertips along her spine. Settling her cheek on his chest, they circled at a snail’s pace.

  A simpering giggle turned her in the direction of Ronan grinding her hips into Markus who were dancing nearby. And when Ronan pulled him toward her lips, he swerved his head, avoiding contact. Ronan seized the opportunity to nuzzle his throat and nibble his earlobe.

  Jordan felt an unexpected pang and was glad when the song ended.

  “I know how much Ronan likes Mark,” Thrill said, as they headed to the table. “She said they’ve gone out a few times, but he’d basically ignored her while dancing with Beth. I have to admit, I was worried about a repeat of last year’s fiasco. And when Beth started choking…” Thrill searched Jordan’s face. “Just a coincidence, right?”

  She arched ambiguous eyebrows.

  A girl lingering at their table snatched Thrill from her hands. His cheeks dimpled as the girl tugged him in the opposite direction. Jordan canvassed the gym, itching to speak with Markus. She found him at the refreshment table, chatting with kids she only knew in passing. He seemed more at ease being human than she did.

  “Can we talk?” she butted into their conversation.

  Markus slid his hand onto Jordan’s shoulder and steered her into the sparkling pines, where twinklers pricked their clothes and faces.

  When they were alone, she said, “I think Ronan knows you’re an angel.”

  “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

  It was normal fo
r Markus to sweep Jordan’s hair off her shoulders, freeing her heart-shaped face from its veil. “I wish people could see your inner strength and beauty,” he said.

  “So you think I’m homely?” She pushed at his hand, a little hurt.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  Whipping her fingers through her lengthy hair, she combed the locks forward. “When people compliment someone’s inner beauty, it’s because they can’t honestly say they’re…you know…pretty.”

  “Humans judge too much based on what they see on the outside.” He fingered her hair again. “They dismiss the inner-self.”

  “So I’m homely, but I look good on the inside.” She hugged her arms around her waist, feeling like the geek all over again.

  “You’re acceptable, for a human.” He brushed her curtain of hair back again and socked her with a smile.

  “So, what? There’s not one bad-looking angel in the universe? You’re all glowing, perfect, and dazzling?”

  His puckish grin reached his eyes, now the shade of amethyst.

  “You’ve taken me totally off topic.” She huffed, piqued at his impishness. “Like I said, I think Ronan knows you’re an angel. In her witchy way, she was letting you know how mad she was at you. She wanted to embarrass Beth, and knew you’d be there to help. It’s obvious, don’t you think? Especially after I’d just slathered holy water on Beth. How come that didn’t ward off the spell?”

  “It did, look at Beth now. If you hadn’t splashed her with holy water, she’d be lying in a hospital on a respirator.”

  “How do you know that? I thought only God could foresee the future?”

  “True. After the events have been altered, I can see what could’ve transpired. Existentially we’ve changed Beth’s destiny. It’s hard for humans to understand.

  “But, but you were here. She shouldn’t have choked at all.”

  “I weakened the spell. The two of us make a good team.”

  “What’s really going on?” Narrowing her eyes, she peered into his taciturn face. “What’d you say to Ronan?”

  Markus roughed a hand into his hair, returning it to an untidy state. “I’ve tried to persuade Ronan to end her magical charms. She’s a competent witch, self-righteous, egotistical, and full of pride. Untoward personality traits that cause disaster, and all the while, Lucifer applauds her aptitude.”

  “If she knows you’re an angel, then what?” She gripped his arm. “Could she hurt you?”

  “Hardly.” A dubious grunt sounded in his chest. “I’m not positive she knows, at least not yet. And Ronan’s not thoroughly lost to the dark side. There’s a spark of goodness, possibly because she sees it in me. She says she wants to attain my light.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Markus hesitated. “She’s interested in more than just my light.”

  Tilting her head, Jordan stared at him, mystified, until it dawned on her. “Markus, you’re an angel, don’t go there.” Totally chagrined, she added, “No matter how tempted you are.”

  She’d never thought of him in that way. Jordan remembered the countless times she’d woken up screaming after her father had died. Markus had always been there for her. He’d crawl into bed and she’d curl up in his arms. He’d douse his light, and hold her pressed against his chest most of the night, or until she rested peacefully. Did he turn human?

  A few years ago, he’d stopped sharing her bed when she woke from those haunting dreams.

  She’d confronted him about his absence, and he’d said, “I’m always here for you, but you’re getting older now.”

  It was time for her to grow up, but maybe not.

  “Don’t worry about me.” His lips spread into his cheeks, smiling.

  Tap-tap-tap-tapping interrupted them. Ronan, hands on her hips, compulsively clacked her foot.

  If looks could kill.

  “What’s going on over here?” Her nostrils flared. “You said Mark was just a friend.”

  Jordan’s mind froze, and before she could engineer an excuse, Markus swung an arm over Ronan’s shoulders.

  He led her away, saying, “Jordan needed advice about Thrill.”

  Ronan’s ringlets waggled as she nodded.

  While secluded in Thrill’s dancing embrace, a building headache reached its apex. And massaging the jackhammer in her temples only made it throb all the more. When florescent lights blared, concluding the Winter Ball, she was relieved. Then it was the mad scramble for the coat racks, and she learned Paisley had organized plans to head to the Elma Grill.

  “Would you guys mind dropping me at home?” asked Jordan. “I have an awful headache.”

  “Are you sure?” Thrill sounded sympathetic.

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Plainly disappointed, he nodded.

  Outside, it was bedlam. Kids swarmed, firing snowballs that descended like mini-bombs on unsuspecting victims. The snow had stopped, but slush leaked over and into their shoes as they tread to the Chevelle.

  The fresh air somewhat cleared Jordan’s aching head. She crouched on wobbling high heels to make a snowball. Taking aim, she whacked Thrill between the shoulder blades. He scooped up snow to return her volley.

  Heels made poor snowshoes as she dodged his flying snowball. She twisted and plowed into a brick wall, at least she thought it was a wall. When hands cupped her shoulders, she looked up into her angel’s face.

  “Whoa, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Suddenly, a snowball slammed into Markus’s face.

  He shoveled a handful of flakes. Throwing his snowball, baritone laughter shot from his mouth. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard him laugh so hard.

  “Stop it,” Ronan complained, standing in front of Markus’s car. “I’m freezing. Let’s go, Mark.”

  Not anticipating his next action, he picked Jordan up and carried her over the slushy puddles. And set her down next to Thrill’s Chevelle, and said to Thrill, “Drive safe.”

  “Yeah, man, you, too.”

  WICKED SPIRITS CREATE CHAOS

  AS DAINTILY AS possible, Jordan climbed the stairs. A band of light spilled from her mom’s bedroom, and she poked her head around the doorframe. She was reading in bed.

  “I saw your light on,” Jordan said.

  “I waited up. You’re home awfully early for your first dance.” Seeley patted the side of the mattress.

  Jordan dove beneath the covers and rooted her head on a pillow. “I have a headache,” she mewled while pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.

  “Did you have a good time? How was the music? Did you dance with any boys?”

  “Mom, you’re making it worse.” Jordan yawned as her mom combed her fingertips through her hair, alleviating the ache. “That feels good, and yes, I had a very good time. Yes, I danced with boys.”

  “If you’re feeling that bad…” Seeley sounded tentative. “We can talk in the morning.”

  With her eyes closed, Jordan sighed. “Something’s wrong. I can tell by your voice.”

  “Your friend Ronan was the girl with Veronka in the city a couple of days ago. I only saw her back and profile, but it was definitely her.”

  Jordan crawled up and inclined on the headboard. “Markus said Ronan performs witchcraft, and he meant it literally. He says Ronan doesn’t know he’s an angel, not yet.”

  “If Ronan’s in league with the Order, they’ll supply her with whatever damaging information they can, and it worries me.” Seeley raked her nails over her arm, looking edgy. “Veronka’s out for revenge. I’m more convinced than ever of Ronan’s powers. She must’ve unlocked the gateway that liberated Legion. It really would’ve thrown her when you arrived in school acting perfectly normal. Maybe that was Veronka’s plan all along. She might be pulling Ronan’s strings.”

  “Just because Ronan can invoke spirits, doesn’t mean they tell her everything, or even tell her the truth,” Jordan reasoned. “We’ve read what dad wrote. And even Mar
kus says wicked spirits create chaos. They’re known for being tricksters.”

  “You might be right,” Seeley mused.

  Bearing her head in her hands, Jordan unsuccessfully tried to make sense of the situation. “I think Markus is wrong,” she mumbled in frustration. “Ronan must know about his involvement.”

  “Markus wouldn’t lie. Perhaps he’s protecting you. That’s his job, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid for him. I have an awful feeling deep inside.”

  “Markus is a powerful angel. Why would you be afraid for him? I think he can take care of himself.”

  “One day, I asked him if he could get hurt or even die while he was human, and he said yes. What if—” She couldn’t say more, her head was ready to burst.

  “Zeke never told me that. I assumed they were invincible. But then, Zeke never created an actual human identity.” Seeley squeezed Jordan’s arm for reassurance. “Don’t think about what ifs. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

  “Mom, my head is killing me. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?”

  “Sure, honey, get some sleep.”

  Once in her own room, Jordan conked out as soon as her head hit the pillow. She woke a few hours later with a glow pricking her eyelids. Markus, in angelic form, stood by her bed. He knelt, pointing his elbows on the mattress with his chin on his hand.

  She squinted, shielding her eyes with her arm. “What’d you doing here?” she asked sleepily.

  “You’re kind of like my assignment. I watch over you, a lot,” he whispered. “Any nightmares?”

  “I slept like a log, not a peep. Until now. You could’ve doused your light before peering into my eyeballs.”

  He’d started to recede when she blurted, “I think Ronan knows, or at least is suspicious about you. My mom’s seen Ronan with Veronka.”

  “I just dropped Ronan at home. She wanted me to spend the night.”

  “Geez, Markus. You didn’t, did you?” Irked by Ronan’s gall, she climbed to her elbows. “I know she’s gorgeous and all, but je–e–ez.”

  He recoiled at her presumption. “Of course not.”

  Glancing at the time, she said, “It’s 4:15, you had a late night.”