Silver Smoke (#1 of Seven Halos Series)

by Monica O'Brien

  "Exactly," Pilot said, masking his annoyance by matching Justin's playful tone. He patted Justin on the back. "That's why you need to stay away from my sister—no unnecessary complications in our friendship."

  Rykken chuckled as he dried his long, dark hair with a towel. Pilot's warning didn't faze Justin though. He merely grinned, clearly enjoying teasing Pilot about this. He leaned in closer to Pilot. "I think we should let her decide, don't you?"

  Pilot slammed his locker shut, facing Justin. "Good luck with that."

  "Don't egg him on," Rykken said to Pilot, walking over to his own locker. "And definitely don't wish him luck. He's gotten lucky with a couple younger girls in the past."

  Justin shot Rykken a nasty look, the same one he reserved for those moments when their coach praised Rykken. Over the summer, their coach had named Rykken water polo captain instead of Justin, even though Rykken was only in his junior year at Punahou. Since then, the two hadn't been nearly as chummy as back in the day when all three of them played club polo together.

  "I'm joking Justin." Rykken backed up slightly, but enough to placate Justin and avoid a fight.

  "What are you doing here anyway?"

  "I forgot my watch." Justin always wore a silver high-tech Christian Dior watch. It was a gift from his mother and he wore it every day, even though he never used it to check the time. He punched in the combination to his locker and retrieved it, holding it up so the light could reflect off its shiny surface.

  "I'm hurt," Pilot replied. "I thought you came here to rip on us."

  "That too." Justin grinned. "But it's getting a little boring, so I'm gonna split. See you two at lunch." He shut his locker and strutted out the door.

  Pilot balled his fist, tapping it against his locker. Rykken looked up. "Ignore him."

  "I can't." Pilot exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm already worried about Brie and I don't need him messing with her."

  "She's fine," Rykken replied automatically. "We found her this morning. No one is hurt."

  "Come on! She thought she saw our mother? You were at the funeral—our mom is dead. That doesn't seem fine to me."

  Rykken shrugged his shoulders. "Losing her mom was traumatic and she is still recovering." He slung his athletic bag over his shoulder and hesitated. "Are you sure she's not looking for attention? You said she does that sometimes."

  Pilot scowled, pressure building in his chest. Rykken held up his hands, palms out in surrender.

  "Just asking," he said.

  "I know Brie isn't your favorite person, but she's my sister."

  "It's fine. I don't have a problem with her." But Rykken's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He sat down on the bench, setting his bags next to him. "You want my advice?" He laced his fingers together, propping his chin with his hands as he spoke. "You can't expect your family to recover from your mom's death in two months."

  "I know," Pilot said miserably. "I just think this thing with Brie—whatever it is—is different."

  Rykken stood up. "Give it time. She's going to get through this. You both are." He walked to the door, scooping up his backpack and athletic bag on the way. "You coming?" he asked.

  Pilot held up his phone. "I need to make a quick call."

  Rykken left the locker room, leaving Pilot alone on the bench. He needed help. After several minutes of staring at the blue metal lockers, he made his decision. He opened his cell, searching for the number of James van Rossum.

  *****

  Brie scanned the outdoor courtyard where most of the students convened for lunch. The green, expansive courtyard was littered with benches for students to eat at and trees for students to huddle around. A criss-cross of sidewalks led to every building in the entire school, including the elementary and middle schools. Punahou served grades kindergarten to high school, but luckily, the teenagers were separated from their younger counterparts. Most high schools had cliques, but the cliques at Punahou were almost always based on sports—the school was obsessed with athletics. The largest were the cheerleaders, the water polo players, the football players, the girl's volleyball players, and the cross country runners. Then there were the more obscure sports—teams for kayaking, bowling, karate, and air riflery, whatever that was. Within each group, students segregated themselves further by athletic level—varsity one, varsity two, junior varsity, and sometimes a freshman team.

  Brie bit her lip, overwhelmed by the swarms of students and at a loss for where to sit and whom to talk to. If she had wanted to tell anyone about her morning, Sirena's disappearing act guaranteed she would not.

  Brie tried to remember what happened after Sirena disappeared. Pilot and Rykken had found her and Pilot wrapped his arms around her tightly. She barely remembered the angry words that poured out of him in the moments that followed. Rykken had been somewhere, standing away from the siblings, avoiding eye contact with Brie. When their eyes finally met, Rykken's spoke only of accusations.

  No one had said much for the rest of the car ride. The next thing she knew she was in the school parking lot.

  Surrounded by people and cameras, she came to life again, but only on autopilot. It was her routine that got her through every day since she had first set foot in Honolulu. If she lay low, the media would have no story, and then they would have to leave her alone.

  On normal days, she convinced everyone—students, teachers, strangers—that she was adjusting to her new life and moving past her mother's death. At night, she retreated to the cocoon of her bed's comforter where she lay in peace, paralyzed by her grief.

  Today felt different though. For the first time in awhile, Brie wanted something—but the one person who could give it to her hadn't been in classes all morning. We'll talk at school. Brie felt betrayed by her friend's absence. Where was Sirena?

  Someone called her name, but she smiled and waved and kept moving. Brie wandered past the courtyard toward a lesser-known alcove of the Punahou campus. She hoped for a quiet place to think and sulk, but to her surprise, a group of varsity cheerleaders had already claimed her favorite shaded gazebo.

  One of the cheerleaders tilted her head with interest, letting her bouncy sun-kissed black curls fall across her heart-shaped face. "Brie! We've been waiting for you."

  "You have?" Brie asked both surprised and agitated. The other two cheerleaders turned sharply. Brie realized her mistake a second too late as each of the girls' faces registered in her mind. It was Thessa, Clara, and Cora—Sirena's friends that Brie sometimes hung out with at school. Was she supposed to meet them today? She couldn't remember.

  For a moment, Brie was struck by Thessa's big, brown eyes. They were intense and pretty, but slightly inhuman. Cora gave Brie a curious look, and her twin sister Clara looked at her like she was an insect they were dissecting in biology lab.

  Brie took a deep breath. "I meant, have any of you seen Sirena? She was supposed to meet me for...

  today," Brie trailed off lamely.

  "What's wrong?" asked Cora, suddenly on alert. She grabbed Brie's wrist and pulled her up the gazebo's steps. A flash of alarm overwhelmed Brie, but before she could say anything, Cora released her.

  "You seem frantic," she said accusingly. "Why are you looking for Sirena?"

  "Oh no," said Clara, folding her arms across her chest. "Did Sirena say something weird to you?" She faced Thessa, lowering her voice. "I thought you said we could trust her not to interfere."

  "Wait—interfere?" The phrase caught Brie's attention. "Interfere with what?"

  Thessa gave Clara a dirty look. "Nothing."

  "If this has anything to do with my mom and how Sirena looks freakishly like her and—" Brie inhaled sharply— how Sirena can control the paparazzi and disappear on a whim...

  The three girls stared at her, shock painted on their faces.

  Finally, Thessa spoke up. "Why would you think this had anything to do with your mom?"

  Brie divided her gaze between the three girls. "You know something," she said, backing away. "All three of y
ou are in on it." For some reason, this revelation made Brie want to escape. You're one of us? Whatever they were—religious cult, secret witch society, voodoo doll worshippers—she didn't want to be a part of it. She backed up, away from the crazy girls. The secluded gazebo felt further from the school every second she stood there. She wondered if even the paparazzi, who stalked her everywhere, would hear her scream out here.

  Brie turned to run down the gazebo steps, but she was stopped by a tall blonde girl in high heels, dressed in a white blouse and a navy blue skirt. Sirena walked confidently up the steps, firmly nudging Brie back. She stood in the entrance, blocking it so Brie couldn't escape.

  "I didn't tell her," Sirena declared, addressing the cheerleaders. "She found out because she's one of us. That's why I called this meeting."

  Thessa collapsed onto the gazebo bench. "Well this complicates things." Cora sat down next to her, looking equally nonplussed.

  Clara scoffed. "You can't be serious, Sirena. Her? Her father is an earthlie."

  "Is he?" Sirena asked.

  Clara's eyes burned slowly into Sirena. "We traced his history. I don't make mistakes."

  "Perhaps James is not her father then?"

  Clara folded her arms. "That's impossible. She has his eyes."

  "Can somebody tell me what's going on?" Brie interrupted. The four girls turned their attention to her, as if just remembering that she was listening.

  "Sit down," Thessa instructed, gesturing to the spot next to her on the bench. Brie sat hesitantly.

  She wanted answers, but that meant pushing through the fear of what those answers might hold.

  Cora reached across Thessa's lap and touched Brie's hand. Brie's pulse slowed as a wave of calm consumed her; she hadn't realized how fast her heart was beating before. "We know you must be freaked out," Cora said. "We can answer your questions, but it's going to take time to explain everything."

  Thessa pressed the tips of her fingers from her right hand to their corresponding fingers on the left hand. She flexed her fingers, pressing the palms of her hands together. "Sirena, what is your evidence that Brie is not an earthlie?"

  "She used a stamata to throw me off my bike this morning."

  Clara looked at Brie incredulously. "Where would she have learned to use a stamata that strong?"

  "What is a stamata?" Brie asked.

  "I don't know," Sirena replied, addressing Clara and ignoring Brie's question. "She must be an innate. Milena was."

  "My mom?" Brie asked.

  "That makes no sense," said Cora. "Pilot is earthlie and James is earthlie. Why would Brie be different?"

  Clara turned to Thessa. "Maybe Pilot is an earthlie because of the prophecy?"

  Sirena snorted. "You've got to be kidding me."

  Clara whipped her head around, speaking quickly. "There's a reason there are no sons of—"

  "The prophecy should have been fulfilled years ago!" Sirena shook her head. "How long will it take for you to wake up and realize you've been spoon-fed lies?"

  Clara's mouth hung open. "Prophecies aren't a science! There's more than enough evidence to take them seriously." She looked to Thessa for help.

  Thessa stood up. "It's possible that Milena's genes were strong enough to produce one–"

  "Is this your idea of explaining things?" Brie asked, interrupting the nonsensical conversation. She stood up and confronted Sirena. "Tell me what you are," she demanded. "Explain what happened this morning. You promised."

  The other girls looked at Brie in shock. Sirena dropped her head, but Thessa locked eyes with Brie, capturing her attention. "Brie, we can tell you what Sirena is because we are the same. So are you—or at least we think so."

  "And what is that?" Brie asked with a thin calm, taking her place on the bench again. For the second time today, she felt fully alert, as if someone had shaken her out of the daze that kept her safe after her mother's death.

  "We have to start at the beginning for you to understand," Thessa said. "Nothing will make sense otherwise. Can you be patient with your questions, and listen to our story?" Brie nodded. Cora gave her an encouraging smile.

  "Long ago, there were two archangels in the Aerial Spires—Heaven, as most earthlies would call it.

  The archangels were named Michael and Luci. Michael, of course, is the archangel mentioned numerous times in various religious books, like the Bible and the Qur'an. You've heard of him, right?"

  Brie nodded.

  "And Luci, as you might have guessed, refers to the archdemon, Lucifer. Or rather, Lucifer refers to Luci. In the days when these tales were written down, earthlies did not consider women equal to men, so all the archangels' names were changed to sound more masculine." Brie nodded again in understanding, and Thessa continued.

  "Michael and Luci were co-commanders of the angel army in the Aerial Spires. Marriage is illegal there, but you could describe their relationship as similar to a marriage. They were each other's second allegiance, after their first allegiance to Theos, of course.

  "Theos?"

  "Theos, as in what you earthlies call God," Clara said impatiently.

  Thessa continued. "Theos created a new race—humans—in his own likeness. The humans were like children, helpless and weak on their own, but meant to rule above the Chorus."

  Cora saw the blank look on Brie's face and interjected. "The Chorus is another name for the hierarchy of angels in the Aerial Spires," she explained.

  "You can imagine how this might upset the Chorus, having to care for and wait on a weaker race than their own. Michael and Luci stood at the center of the controversy, their followers waiting for them to decide whether the army would maintain their allegiance to Theos. Michael was resolute in his purpose and saw no reason to question Theos. Luci, however, had sharp doubts. Without Michael's knowledge, she met with another god, Diabo, in hopes of striking a deal.

  "When Michael found out about Luci's betrayal, his anger was immeasurable. Luci had broken both her first and second allegiances by meeting with Diabo. Knowing that he and Luci could never see eye to eye again, Michael challenged Luci to a death battle for sole control of their combined army. The battle lasted many years, as archangels are difficult to kill, and Luci had the help of a rebel faction within the army who did not want to stay in the Aerial Spires. Eventually, Michael cornered Luci, but he realized he couldn't kill his companion, the woman he'd loved and fought alongside for many millennia.

  Instead, he spared her life but cast her out of the Aerial Spires for all eternity.

  "Luci was weak when she left the Aerial Spires and had no means to take care of the rebel faction that followed her. The archangels needed energy to survive—energy that could only be given by a god. Luci turned to Diabo for help, and he made her a terrible deal. He would take care of her faction of angels and reinstate her as commander of a new army, the archdemons. In return, she would help Diabo steal the minds and souls of his brother's children."

  Brie shivered. "That's a terrible choice to have to make. But Theos and Diabo—"

  "Are brothers," Thessa said. "And Diabo wanted Luci to steal human souls. Humans were young at that time, and Diabo had appeared to them many times before, tempting them easily. But he lusted after a more devilish plot. He sent his most trusted archdemons, seven in total, down from the Infernal Spires to create a new army on earth—a hybrid breed who would fight to claim human souls on a daily basis. This hybrid race was named the Nephilim."

  Brie's stomach twisted as she absorbed the story. "Is that what we are?" she asked. "Nephilim?" The thought of being the offspring of an archdemon made her sick.

  Clara glared at Brie, clearly offended by her question, but Cora laughed reassuringly. "No, not at all."

  "Let me finish," Thessa said patiently. "When Michael learned of the Nephilim, he realized that he too needed an army on the ground if he wanted to protect Theos' human souls. Michael gathered his six most trusted warriors and took a piece from each of their hearts to form six stones. He sent the
stones to earth, along with a stone from his own heart. The seven stones, when fully-formed to their earthlie sizes, stacked on top of each other in a stable arch, with Michael's stone creating the keystone at the top center. The arch was placed somewhere in what would now be considered Western Europe—the exact location has been lost over the centuries. Any human child under one year of age could stand under the arch and be blessed by a flood of water that poured from the stones. If the child survived, he or she would carry the blood of one of the seven archangels—a bloodline that would flow through his or her descendants for as long as they reproduced, making them as strong as the archangels while keeping their humanity and souls intact.

  "We are the descendants of this hybrid race, Brie, created by Michael to fight the Nephilim for the souls of all humanity. We are the Hallows."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brie's head spun over Thessa's revelation. "I don't believe you," she said.

  "What?" Clara said.

  "I don't believe you. You are all insane."

  Cora's forehead crinkled. "But Brie, why would we lie to you?"

  Brie could think of only one reason. She stood up and scanned the trees. "Where are the cameras?"

  Clara's eyes widened before narrowing into sharp slits. She threw her arms up in the air. "You are the daughter of James van Rossum. You are not famous enough to get spunked or punned, or whatever they call it these days."

  Brie affixed her hands to her hips. "If angels are real, and demons are real, what else should I know about? Blood-sucking dead people? Garlic and crosses?"

  Clara sneered. "Vampire references." Her lips pressed together firmly aside from the slight upturn at the corners of her mouth. "Vampires are the most ridiculous mythological creatures earthlies ever created. They don't make sense. Here's what really happens—when you die, your body becomes a shell, absent of its soul. The soul is what makes you human—not your brain or your heart." Clara crossed her legs, folding her arms in front of her. "Vampires are anatomically impossible."