by Amy Vansant
“Get off me you overgrown Cheeto!”
Con found himself pinned. He focused his energy into his fists and punched her in the chest, knocking her back and off of him.
Rolling to his feet, he turned to find her gone. He put his hands on his hips.
“Is David Copperfield in town? How else could something that big disappear?”
He saw chains whipping through the air a second too late. They wrapped around his body, securing his arms to his sides. As they coiled around his midsection, a large, flat block of black plastic slapped against his stomach. He looked toward the park’s play area and noticed one of the swings missing.
“Why’d you have to go and break their swing?” He disappeared and reappeared behind the flame-haired Angelus.
The pile of chain she’d wrapped around his torso fell to the ground in a heap as he grabbed her and began to syphon.
Boudica broke free with a supernova of energy. As he stumbled back she jumped and they rolled across the grass, wrestling and syphoning.
“Hey!”
Con and Boudica froze in mid-roll, she on the bottom and he attached to her like a rider, his arm lifted, preparing to strike. He could feel his eye throbbing where she’d connected squarely to the top of his cheekbone.
“Get off of her!”
A uniformed police officer stared down at them. Both he and Boudica remained motionless, unsure how much the officer had seen.
The officer jerked his arm. “Up!”
Con stood and wiped his face on his shirt sleeve to remove grass that had been smooshed there.
“Help her up!” said the cop, motioning to Boudica.
Boudica smirked and held aloft her arm with a ladylike bend at the wrist.
Con spat grass from his mouth and squinted at the Angelus’ waiting hand.
“You’re mad. Have you seen the size of her? My spine will pop like a twig.”
The officer grit his teeth. “Help her.”
Con considered shocking the cop into unconsciousness. Anne had taught him how to disrupt human electricity on their first job together, back in 1880. Unfortunately, a crowd was gathering behind the officer. Women with strollers shook their heads and made tsking noises as they held their children back from the bad man caught beating a woman in the park.
Con scanned pair after pair of disapproving eyes and felt a blush of shame rise to his cheeks. “You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand,” said the cop, putting his hand on his gun. “Help her up.”
Con sighed and helped smirky Boudica to her feet.
“Ma’am, are you alright?”
Boudica nodded. “I am.” She leaned toward him and Con felt her lips brush his ear. “You’re lucky we don’t have time for me to play this up a bit.”
He scoffed. “Like they can keep me in jail!”
Con realized he’d declared his inability to be held a bit too loudly as the cop reached for his handcuffs.
“Oh. Wait, officer, I—”
Boudica, stepped between them, her palms aloft. “Officer, it’s my fault. I attacked him. He was defending himself.”
The officer paused, squinting up at her, searching for any sign that her pleas came from a place of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m not sure it’s safe—”
Her eyes began to water. “He slept with my sister!”
The crowd gasped and shot a new volley of eye-daggers at Con.
Why you little actress!
Con glared at her. “Your sister? Really? Did I have climbing gear?”
The crowd hooted their disapproval and Con hung his head, rubbing his neck.
There’s no winning this one.
He peered up at the policeman, who was poised to cuff him. Boudica was right; they didn’t have time for this. He could disappear and fly away at a moment’s notice, but he couldn’t risk performing his recently acquired Angelus-like magic in front of the humans. Plus, judging by the faces of the onlookers, they might beat him to death with their own children before he had a chance to get away.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for fightin’ wid a lass and I’m sorry...”
Boudica turned her face from the crowd’s peering eyes long enough to stick her tongue out at him.
He growled and fought to keep composure.
“...And I’m sorry for sleepin’ with yer sister.”
Boudica reassumed her puppy-dog face and nodded sadly.
Did her bottom lip just quiver? For the love of—
“So you two are done fighting?’ asked the cop.
“We are,” mumbled Con.
“What’s that?”
“We are. I’m sorry as a hog on rasher day.”
“What?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t calling you a pig—”
“Pig—?”
“I mean rashers: bacon. It’s an Irish thing.”
The cop frowned. “Well we don’t beat our women here in America.”
The onlookers cheered and Boudica touched his arm. “Now will you go to therapy with me, hon?”
Con spoke through gritted teeth. “Sure, my beautiful flower. Anything to make up fer the terrible things I’ve done. I’ve seen the error of my ways.”
She hugged him. Some of the onlookers walked away, shaking their heads with disgust. One or two clapped.
As Boudica released him, the officer poked a finger in Con’s chest. “Don’t let it happen again or I’ll be there, bringing down the hammer.”
Con looked down at the finger and then back at the officer, every muscle in his body quivering with frustration.
The cop held his finger there a moment longer and then noticed the swing on the ground. “You two know anything about this broken swing?”
They both shook their heads.
“Hm.”
The officer gathered the chains and strode away.
Boudica giggled.
“Why’d you have to go and tell him I slept wid yer sister?”
Boudica picked grass from her hair and shrugged. “Seemed like an easy way to distract him. To put our actions in terms he’d understand.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you’d been having relations with my brother, then?”
“I never thought of it.”
“See? You’re, whaddya call it, a reverse sexist. Thinkin’ it’s always the man playin’ away.”
“You’re saying you’ve never cheated on anyone?”
Con swiveled his eyes toward the sky. “That’s not the point.”
“Whatever. We’ve got to find this Cherub. We can’t be rolling around in the grass.”
“Ick.”
Boudica shot him a look. “This isn’t over.”
“Just tell me what your paper says. Where can we find the Cherub?”
Boudica felt the pockets of her jeans and scanned the grass, spotting her sheet nearby. She picked it up and studied it for a minute.
“They think it’s holed up in that house.” She pointed to a large, Victorian home at the corner of the park.
Con sighed. “Great. What are the chances our antics didn’t catch their attention?”
“Pretty good I’d say. Look. They’re just getting back from somewhere.”
Con spotted a group of people mounting the stairs to the gingerbread-trimmed Victorian. “Good. Let’s investigate the situation.”
He slapped Boudica on the back a little harder than needed.
She raised her arm to strike him and they heard a throat clearing. The police officer stood behind them.
They smiled and Con held out his hand. She took it and they strolled toward the Victorian, each gritting their teeth with the strain of fighting the energy syphon building between their intertwined fingers.
Chapter Ten
Tyannah felt as if she was strapped to the front of a train. Wind whistled and she didn’t like the feeling of being out of control. On the upside, flying with a Cherub was less bumpy than her brother’s shockless pickup truck. Though not
much slower.
The white noise began to fall away, victim to more familiar staccato sounds. Crickets. She found herself standing in a thick forest, legs wobbly.
“Are you well?” asked Rathe, as she steadied herself against him.
“I think so, give me a sec.” She took deep breaths until the world stopped quivering. Rathe tugged on her arm and urged her into a squatting position. Together, they peered through the bushes at a dimly lit cabin where, inside, a flickering light danced across the walls.
“So you think she’s in there? What’s her name again? Lena?”
“Alida. I guess she’s in there; it’s our cabin. Can’t you sense her or something?”
Tyannah concentrated and sent her energy aura in the direction of the cabin the way Anne had taught her to project. She felt nothing unusual.
“I can’t feel nothin’. But I don’t know if that’s because she’s not there or because I’m not so great at that trick, yet. Or, maybe I’m supposed to feel for Angeli, not for Cherubim, so she’s, like, invisible to me.”
Rathe arched an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of excuses.”
She punched him in the arm.
“Ow!”
“They aren’t excuses—they’re facts. Maybe you could lure her out and then I’ll jump her. She won’t see it coming.”
“Me?” Rathe’s voice squeaked.
“She ain’t gonna come out to see me. I can’t knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Why would you need sugar?”
“It’s a saying.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s no sugar in the cabin. Plenty of spider webs though if you need them.”
“What I’m saying is she won’t come out for me.”
Rathe cocked his head, considering. “I don’t think that’s quite correct. She will come out for you, she’ll just be coming out to kill you.”
“And I don’t want her coming out blazing. If you lure her out, she won’t be expecting it. She’ll be happy to see you.”
Rathe offered a soft, nervous laugh. “No. She won’t be happy to see me. She’ll be angry. I stole her human puppet and left her alone out here.”
“But she can’t hurt you. You’re on the same wavelength or whatever.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she could hurt me if she wanted to, seems like that’s her thing. Pain. She’s really good at it.”
“So what’re we gonna do? Hide out here in the bushes all night?”
Tyannah pulled back her dark, curly hair and wished she’d brought something to clip it with. She’d kept her hair shorter while living with her family. It gave them less to grab. Now, she wasn’t used to having to plan for it.
Rathe swallowed. “Fine. I’ll go.” He stood and then squatted again. “You’re sure this is the best idea? Maybe you could just rush in there—”
She huffed. “I’m not rushing in there. She could be waiting in there for us as far as we know. Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Sometimes you’re kind of stupid.”
“Like when?”
“Like when you turned that psycho Mallory into a Sentinel, for one.”
“He’s the one who syphoned Michael. That’s the whole point of Sentinels, so how stupid was it?”
Tyannah rolled her eyes. “Oh big deal. Michael gave himself up to save Anne. He sat there like a good little boy while Mallory killed him. Mallory was a sicko. Michael was brave and romantic.”
“Ha! Romantic. Whatever.”
“You whatever.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
A silence settled on them. Tyannah realized Rathe was wasting time to delay knocking on the cabin door.
“Look, go knock on Lena’s door.”
“Alida.”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s a little girl. Just do it. Let me get in position on the side of the cabin first, then you go knock. Okay?”
“Fine.”
Tyannah stood and felt Rathe’s hand grab her arm.
“What?”
Rathe looked up at her. “Be careful.”
“What do you care? We’re not even on the same side anymore.” Tyannah regretted her comment. It sounded mean and she hadn’t meant it that way.
She sighed. “Sorry. It’s just, I feel like you think I’m a traitor and I hate that. But you’re on the wrong side. I’m sure of it. And I think deep inside you know it, too.”
His grip on her arm grew tighter. Her natural instinct, one born from years of physical abuse, was to hit him and run.
But his grip didn’t hurt. She could feel the increased pressure was born of urgency. He wanted her to look at him.
She didn’t like looking people in the eyes during times of stress. It made her feel like they could see into her head and read her thoughts. Thoughts they might not like.
“Tyannah...” He said her name softly.
She looked down and met his gaze. He had the expectant look of someone about to launch into a confession. Then, as she watched, he sighed and his expression relaxed.
“Be careful,” he said.
She nodded. “I will.”
He released her arm and she flashed him a smile before scurrying toward the cabin, using the outlining trees to hide her approach.
Memory looping her exchange with Rathe as she reached the side of the cabin, she made an effort to clear her mind.
I can’t think about him now. Concentrate.
She resisted the urge to peer through the window. It was a miracle that Alida hadn’t sensed their presence yet. She didn’t want to push it.
“Shoot,” she whispered.
I forgot to confirm how tall Alida is.
Where had Rathe motioned after he appeared through her window? Hip high. But Alida couldn’t be that short. Tyannah didn’t want to lose her advantage by jumping around a corner prepared to tackle someone, only to go flying over her head.
From her place beside the cabin, Tyannah waved at Rathe.
Peering through the bushes, he waved back at her.
She held her hand just above her head and then dropped it to below her waist. She did this motion several more times.
He stared at her.
She pointed to the cabin and then made her hand motions again.
Rathe stood as she raised her hand and then squatted again when she lowered it. He continued to do squats until she stopped.
She closed her eyes and put a hand over her face.
Cherubs are terrible at charades.
“What are you doing?”
Tyannah jumped and slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from yipping. Rathe stood beside her, his back pressed against the cabin.
“What are you doing here? You scared me to death!”
“What’s with the hand gestures?”
“I was trying to ask you how tall Alida is. I don’t want to come at her too high or too low.”
“Oh. Like this tall.” He raised his hand to just below his chest.
“Cripes, I’m glad I asked. Last time you said she was up to your hips. Now go knock on the door.”
He nodded but didn’t move.
“Go on. If she hasn’t heard us by now she must be dead, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Rathe took a deep breath and strode toward the door. Tyannah peeked around the corner and watched him as he raised his hand to knock, lowered it, and then raised and lowered it several more times. She was about to run out and knock herself when he found the courage to rap on the door.
Light spilled on Rathe as the door the opened.
“Hi, uh...”
Rathe took a step back.
Oh no. Something’s wrong.
“I, uh—”
A large bearded man stepped from the cabin, dressed in camouflage pants and a gray tee. Dark brown blood stains smeared his shirt.
Though Tyannah thought it might be possible for a Cherub to change sex, gr
ow several feet and sprout a beard, she knew a hunter—and a human—when she saw one.
“What the hell do you want?” the man bellowed at Rathe.
She watched Rathe’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I, uh...”
Rathe smiled and Tyannah felt a tinge of relief.
He’s figured it out. He’s got it now. Abort mission.
Still grinning, Rathe spoke.
“You smell good.”
The man’s face twisted with confusion and what Tyannah thought was probably the beginning of a murderous rage. “What?”
“I mean you don’t stink, which is good. A good human.”
“Boy, you better—”
“I’d like some of your sugar. Could I have some sugar?”
Tyannah gasped. Oh he didn’t just say that.
The large man’s expression spasmed and he coughed as if his own anger prevented him from breathing.
“What the—”
The hunter grabbed Rathe by his shirt.
“Wait, wait!” screamed Tyannah, scrambling around the corner.
The man froze, shocked to see her. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you?”
Tyannah’s mind whirled, searching for something to say. “It’s a prank!”
“A prank?”
“I’m sorry. These horrible boys dared my...” She held her hand out towards Rathe, searching for the word. “Brother. Please. I’m sorry. We’ll be on our way.”
The man remained staring at her, his fist still wrapped in Rathe’s shirt.
“Please, mister. He’s not right in the head.”
The hunter turned his attention back to Rathe, who offered him a little wave.
“No, he ain’t right. I can see that now.”
Tyannah grabbed Rathe by the arm and tugged him from the man’s loosening grasp.
The man called after them as they rounded the cabin. “You can’t be so weak, boy! If they jumped off a bridge, would you jump?”
Tyannah heard Rathe mumbling behind her as she dragged him toward the woods. “Who’s jumping off a bridge? And why wouldn’t I jump? If a human can survive the fall I certainly can.”
Rathe planted his feet and called back towards the man. “Are the jumpers in question human?”
She jerked him into movement once more and marched him into the woods.
“Why would someone ask a human to jump off a bridge? How tall is this bridge?”
