Infatuate

by Aimee Agresti

  “Us?” he asked, like he didn’t know what “us” I was referring to. I worried this was going to go even worse than I had imagined. But sometimes you just need answers, even if they won’t change anything that happened and won’t necessarily change anything going forward. My life was populated with so many things that were out of my control, I couldn’t help wanting to try to understand this.

  Finally Lance sighed and mussed his hair, exhaling. “I don’t know.”

  It was strangely reassuring somehow. I felt emboldened enough to press for more, my gaze firmly focused on my fidgeting fingers.

  “I mean . . .” I braced myself and bravely soldiered on like someone who might perish in a battle against devils in mere days, nothing at all to lose. “Did you . . . do you . . . did you”—I couldn’t get it out—“love Sabine?”

  “Do you?” He parried with me. “Love him?”

  “So unfair, I asked first,” I said with a fake pout, watching him from the corner of my eye. The air had grown chillier since we’d arrived, even as the heat rose in my skin. But I thought of that message last night, and about this, I wouldn’t joke. “Love Lucian? No. Not really. I care about him. I know that he doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him now. But I don’t know. I think there’s probably a difference between sort of friend-like-love and not-wanting-to-condemn-someone-to-hell-love and . . .” I searched for the right way to say it, but I had never had a conversation like this and came up short. “. . . and love-love. I mean, I’m just guessing.” I shrugged. “You know, from an objective standpoint.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said, eyes fixed straight ahead. I could feel him wanting to say something more, so I fought the urge to fill the painful silence. “So then,” he started finally. “For instance, you might categorize your time with him as . . . what?”

  “Well, aside from the official business of making good on a promise to try to break him free?”

  “Aside from that.”

  I smiled to myself. “Then other than that, I think I just wanted to get your attention.”

  Now he smiled too, and looked at me. “Well, mission accomplished.”

  “Thanks,” I said, just a hint of pride. “Is it me, or have things been kinda weird since we’ve gotten here? I mean, with us, not just, you know, demons trying to kill us weird, but us weird?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed.

  “I just laid my heart out. You gotta give me more,” I said lightly enough to hide how serious I was.

  “Sabine?” he said tentatively, like he was testing out a microphone. Then, matter-of-factly: “Sabine was a momentary lapse in judgment.”

  “I’m intrigued, go on.” We reached the tropical plants, their fragrance wafting out, giant leaves creating a canopy and nearly assaulting us. Orchids, in purples and yellows and reds so vibrant we could see them even in near darkness, studded the lush green landscape like jewels embedded in velvet.

  “She was like an escape.” He kicked at the dirt along our path. “Maybe it’s just that she seemed kind of . . . fragile? Like she sort of needed me . . . more, maybe?” He said it in an apologetic tone, his eyes fluttering to mine occasionally like someone pleading guilty to a crime. If I tried really hard, this could almost sound like a compliment.

  “Oh.” I hadn’t seen that coming. I wasn’t prepared to mount a defense.

  “I was confused, you know? Everything that happened at the Lex, that messed me up.” I could see him running through the memories in his head.

  “Of course. I was too.”

  “No, you’re not getting—” He looked frustrated and tried another tack. “It’s pretty uncool to admit this. But in a weird way I feel like everything we went through made me weaker. When we went back to normal life, the roller coaster was too much. And I felt like I needed you to keep me stable, but I needed you too much. It’s not a normal thing for me to feel that, like, ever. It was too much . . . you were too much. And then we came here and—”

  “I was too much?” I didn’t understand.

  “You seemed to assimilate into this new existence easier, this angel status, like it was something you had to do, so you did. I didn’t get it. Once I finally felt good enough to get outta bed, after everything that had happened, the fire, that whole battle, I felt like it was someone else, not me, who had done all that and lived through it. I couldn’t imagine having to do anything like that again.”

  “Join the club. I mean, are you kidding? It’s kind of not the easiest thing to adjust to. I’m messed up too. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Not the most impressive thing to tell your girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes behind those frames.

  “Well, you would have discovered that I felt—and still feel—completely out of control. If it’s any consolation.” It felt good to say that and to have it be okay that I felt this way.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He smiled. “So all I’m saying is, hanging out with Sabine seemed like an escape. But there is no escape. I know that now. And when you got tagged—” He paused a moment. “I realized . . . a lot.”

  I soaked it all in for a moment, not wanting to speak too soon, letting the heft of his words have space to breathe. We had stopped walking. Who knew how long we had been standing here amid these orchids, lost in thought. Lance turned to face me, smiling shyly now.

  “So, I laid my heart out there. You gotta give me something.” He nearly repeated my line, with finality. I just grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me, my lips finding his, his arms closing in around my waist, holding me tightly.

  When we got back to the house, I tracked down Dante in Max’s room. I unpacked my many Ziploc bags, handing over so many clippings of all shapes and sizes, dictating each as I went along. When I got to love-lies-bleeding, he smiled, giving me a mischievous look I knew too well.

  “Oh, it turns out I don’t need that one after all,” he said with a smirk.

  33. All Hail, Queen Haven

  After our escape from the crypt, I had left Lucian a note thanking him and asking what I needed to do on Metamorfosi Day. I checked day after day for his reply, but each time I was greeted by a dark window. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been caught helping us and because of it, he was now gone forever. At last, that Sunday, on the way to the warehouse to put the finishing touches on our float, I found the candle burning and this note snuggled into one of those familiar bottles:

  H—

  I’m just glad I was there to help you both. Thank you again for what you’re about to do for me. I can’t begin to tell you what it means to me. I’ll meet you at our usual place in the morning on the day of metamorphosis. Until then, I know that you should follow Clio that evening. She will lead you to your nemesis. Lance should do the same with Wylie. I wish I had more for you right now, but it has grown increasingly difficult to learn anything new. They are too wary of me. I will try with all my heart to collect more by the time I see you.

  Yours,

  L

  The next couple of days were a blur. I could feel a shell hardening around my body and soul, protecting and strengthening me. Nothing, it seemed, could surprise me anymore. Case in point: We had called in another anonymous tip to the police to search the crypt Lance had built, and sure enough, they had dug it all up only to find absolutely nothing. If I hadn’t explored those corridors with Lance, I might’ve been convinced I had dreamed the whole thing. While we were at it, we called the authorities again and again—River, Drew, and Tom all doing the honors this time—warning of threats on Mardi Gras. At least the police would be out in full force, even if they hadn’t been able in the past to fight the demons.

  But it was another call that had been far more nerve-racking: the one I owed Joan. I had managed to avoid her long enough, plying her with short, harried e-mails and texts, letting her calls go to voice mail, and blatantly and boldly ignoring every mention of her potential travel plans. But, curled up on my bed now, two days until what could be my last on earth, I couldn’t wait an
y longer. She answered immediately.

  “Why, hello! You’re a tough lady to get a hold of!” she greeted me.

  “I know, I know, sorry. Things have been . . . crazy.”

  “Yes, crazy, crazy, aren’t things just always crazy for you. Too crazy to call home,” she said, upbeat enough that I knew she wasn’t really angry. Yet.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Never mind, sweetie. It’s fine, I know you’re busy.” She paused for a moment, as though searching for an adequate segue, which made me nervous.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, but, well, now, don’t be mad . . . but I have a surprise,” she eased in.

  “Ohhhkay.” I braced myself.

  “I booked a trip to come see you. It’s more than I should spend, but I couldn’t resist—I want to see you in the parade!”

  An alarm went off in my mind: she was coming here. At the worst possible time, the most dangerous time. “Joan, you can’t!” I blurted out, before thinking. It came out far harsher than I intended.

  “What?” She sounded shocked, all of her sweet excitement suddenly snuffed out.

  I backpedaled. “No, I’m sorry, I just mean—I’d love to see you but I can’t . . . you can’t. I just . . . I can’t have you here, not then, not now.” It broke my heart to say this and to do it so forcefully but I needed her to listen. I needed her to be safe and that meant staying as far away from here as possible. I was met with such pure silence on the other end that I thought the call might have been dropped. “Are you there?” I had to ask, softening my voice this time.

  When she finally spoke, I could hear the tears being stifled. “I don’t know why you’re so upset with me, Haven. I just want to see you. Is that such a bad thing? I know you’re busy, but . . . I didn’t expect you would tell me not to come. I thought it would be something fun to share together. Soon you’ll be off at college, and I know that’s a wonderful, exciting thing, but I’m going to miss you. I miss you already.” I had clearly hit a nerve.

  I felt awful. The only thing that kept me going was the idea that keeping her away would ensure that she would be okay, that she wouldn’t get caught up in whatever battle would be raging here. For the briefest moment, my mind wandered into territory I had been trying so hard to push away. What if I didn’t make it? I had had to consider this once before, but then I had been fine. My first challenge had seemed almost easy in retrospect.

  It hit me: what if I told her? What if I just spilled it all? Spelled it all out and told Joan the truth about me and Dante and Lance and what we really were, as difficult as it may be for her to comprehend? It would sound so outlandish I think she would worry I was delusional.

  “I’m sorry, Joan, I didn’t mean to be . . . Look, there’s just . . . some weird stuff going on here,” I started, testing the waters. I was so sick of having to weave these elaborate webs. I wished she knew the truth for the selfish reason that she would somehow have the words to make everything seem better and less scary than it was. I needed that now. Sometimes I was tired of having to be strong.

  “Well, Haven, now I’m concerned, quite frankly. What’s going on there? What are you talking about?” She sounded stern.

  “No, I’m just being dramatic.” I chickened out. “It’s fine. I’m just stressed. I’m looking forward to being done and getting home, that’s all.”

  “I don’t like when you get like this. It can’t be all that bad. You always put such pressure on yourself to do everything perfectly. You need to ease up. It’s not good for you to carry on this way.”

  “I know. You’re right.”

  “Maybe you’ll let me come another time before your trip is through. Or at least promise me you’ll rest when you get home in June? I’ll take a few vacation days and we can goof off together.” I was silent, trying to fight back the tears. Would I be there? How much longer would I have to make these kinds of calls, worrying that they would be my last? I hadn’t spoken for several long seconds. “We’ll have fun,” she said, trying to sound light.

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and hardened my voice. “Of course, of course. It’s a date, I promise.”

  “That’s more like it.” She paused again. “You sure you’re okay? Should I be worried? Because I feel like I should, so you’re going to have to convince me otherwise.”

  I wanted to say, Yes, be terrified, just like I am. But instead I said, “Of course not, I’m fine. I’m really good.”

  “I don’t think I believe you, but I have a feeling you’re not going to tell me what’s really going on until you’re good and ready. So, for now, all I’ll say is, take pictures at least, okay? I want pictures of you in that parade, that’s an order. And I want you to have fun, got it?”

  “Got it.” I nodded to myself, smiling through the tears.

  Maybe someday I really would find a way to tell her, but, no, I couldn’t right now. There was just no easy way. All I could hope was that my will to survive, to see Joan again, would get me through and give me extra strength when the time came.

  Dante and Max summoned Lance and me to Mariette’s on Monday afternoon. “She wants to wish you good luck,” Dante had said. We needed all the luck we could get, so we weren’t about to say no. The guys were waiting for us, seated on the front counter when we arrived.

  “So, how’s your pitching arm these days?” Dante asked as he greeted me, eyes dancing.

  “I’m sorry?”

  He opened up his backpack and inside I found so many sharp-tipped triangles and stars, all made of a delicate sort of tree bark and each featuring pointed edges dipped in a multitude of colors. They were wrapped up and protected in tiny individual Ziploc bags. “Each of these delivers a debilitating punch,” he said, closing his bag back up. “I’ll show you what they all do and then it’ll be up to you to throw ’em at the right people at the right times.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s going to be,” Max said in encouragement, which I appreciated. vzyl

  “That’s the idea at least,” Dante said.

  “What about me?” Lance asked.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a crash course in all this back at the house,” Dante assured us. “You’ve got a night to figure it out. No sweat, right?” We laughed nervously.

  At that moment, Mariettte floated out from her backroom, as serene as ever. “Thank you so much for stopping by.” She looked intently at both of us. “I wanted you to know my spirit will be with you tomorrow. And I know you are capable of defeating the evil ones.”

  We both mumbled reverential thank-yous and she turned to me. “Haven, could I have just a moment of your time?”

  “Of course,” I said, stepping forward. I felt the others slink back as I followed her into the pantry. There she took my hands and looked into my eyes, studying me. “Dante may have told you that we have prepared some very special things for you.”

  “Oh, thank you. He showed me some things already—”

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask one final time: did you want something specific against the one whose letter you gave me?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. I won’t be needing that.”

  “I suspected as much, but I wanted to know for sure. Dante has trained well. He is doing everything in his power to help protect you. But even so, we can’t be sure these mixtures will work on these beasts. You have my apologies if anything fails you.”

  “I know you’ve done so much. Thank you. If I fail it’ll have nothing to do with you.”

  “I have full confidence in you.” She nodded, then she hung her head, almost bowing to me, let go of my hands, and turned to go into the backroom. But I thought of something and I couldn’t resist.

  “Mariette,” I called, and she turned back around. “Is there anything else I need to know heading into this? Anything at all?”

  She looked deep into my eyes again, stepping toward me once more. “I don’t know whether you will survive or no
t. I can’t see that far ahead for any of you, much as I have tried time and again.” She shook her head. “I can’t tell if the one behind the letter will survive either. But I know what you’re trying to do for him and you are very brave to try. And while this may not be knowledge that can save your life, I can tell you this: they both love you. Truly. And in my experience, sometimes knowing something like that can make a difference. It can certainly make a person fight harder.” With a smile and another nod, she disappeared into the backroom, turning off the light. I stood there a few extra seconds in the dark, alone, and I tucked away what she had said and held it tight in my heart.

  By the time Connor gathered us in the living room after dinner, we all had begun getting punchy, jittery with that dreaded day approaching. He took his usual position at the front of the room and scanned our exhausted faces. Our house had grown silent; each of us, it seemed, had retreated into our own thoughts as we mentally prepared.

  “I know that things are gonna get rough soon,” he started. “But I want you all to know that you can fight this. You know what you have to do. Each of you will be targeted by one freshly transformed devil whose mission is to steal your soul and destroy your body, making you their personal recruit for an eternity in the underworld. And some of you will find yourselves up against members of the old guard of devils as well, looking to weaken you as you do battle. As angels, you’re the ultimate prize to them. You won’t know where or when they’ll strike, only that it has to happen before midnight on this day of metamorphosis, so you’ve gotta be on guard. The three of you”—he addressed Emma, Tom, and River—“need to focus on subduing your attackers and slapping one of these on them before they manage to hit you with anything.” He held up one of the triangular shapes I’d seen in Dante’s bag. “These, as provided by Dante and Max, will weaken them and enable you to destroy them. You’ll know you’ve won when they change forms and begin to take on the look of their decaying souls. Then just keep at it until they smoke and turn to ash. If you want to know what this all looks like, talk to Haven, Lance, or Dante. They’ve all been there.”