Sharing a look with Stacy, I said, “I’m so sorry.”
Darcy shook her head. “I blamed myself for years. Everyone blamed me. But a few weeks ago, I learned a different story.”
A little too sharply, I asked, “How?”
“A friend. A dear friend,” she said. “Someone who was…” Several moments passed before she finished. “…like us.”
“Was?” I asked, and then bit my tongue when I saw the pain in her expression.
She said, “Neil didn’t know exactly what we were, but he had lived with this thing since he was a boy. I had learned to suppress it over the years, but he taught me how to control it—at least, to some degree.”
“Control what?” I asked, pressing. “What is it?”
Before Darcy could reply, Stacy interrupted. She was visibly upset. “Now everyone hold on a minute. I don’t know about you, but I’m having a hard time with this.”
So wrapped up trying to comprehend what was happening to me, I hadn’t fully been aware that every time the power had manifested, Stacy had either not been there, or had not seen it. Tom had knocked her out before I had summoned the tornado. And earlier, she had fallen to the ground when Al’s gun exploded, and hadn’t seen what Darcy had done to him and his men.
I felt frustrated that she hadn’t fully believed me all along. At the same time, I was flattered that, even though she thought I was out of my mind, she had stuck with me and had been so supportive.
Looking at me pointedly, Stacy said, “You’ve been going on and on about some kind of super power. I’ve tried to be understanding. You’ve gone through a lot. I get that. But let’s face reality, here. There’s no such thing as magic.”
“It’s not magic,” Darcy said matter-of-factly.
“What?” Stacy asked.
Reaching her hand between us, palm facing up, Darcy answered, “It’s elemental.”
And with that, a ball of fire coalesced, the flames flickering and dancing from her skin, which remained white and unmarred by the blistering heat.
Stacy jumped back, hitting her head on the window, and let out a shriek of surprise.
Darcy chuckled softly and closed her fingers, snuffing the flame. “Sorry.”
“What the hell was that?” Stacy asked, her eyes wide.
“My great-grandmother called it ‘angel fire’. I can summon fire, and control it. Neil could control water.” She looked at me. “What is your power?”
I spoke without having to think about it, and as the words came out, I knew them for truth. “Wind.” I remembered the tornado. “I can’t control it, though. It just happens.”
Darcy nodded. “Control will come in time. Perhaps I can help with that.”
Spreading her hands out in a stopping motion, Stacy, her voice becoming panicked, said, “You said it was an affliction. What, are you guys, like, infected or something?”
“No,” I said right away.
At the same time, Darcy said, “Yes; sort of.” She looked at me, then back to Stacy. “What makes you ask that?”
“I don’t know.” Stacy shrugged. “It just would make sense, wouldn’t it? I mean, if any of this made sense, that is.” She tilted her head. “A few days ago, Rich had to wear glasses. Today, he can see things I would need binoculars for. Something changed in him.”
I looked at her sharply, and she said, “I guess I believe you now.”
Darcy gave me a look I couldn’t interpret.
“What?” I asked.
“Your vision got better?”
I nodded. “I’ve had cataracts since I was a kid. It was getting worse. Once this thing happened to me, my sight cleared up.” I glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. “What?”
“It’s probably nothing. Neil also had some kind of secondary ability. He called it a heightened intuition. It was like some kind of gut instinct or something. He knew things, like if someone was going to bluff at cards; that kind of thing.”
“Do you have any other abilities, besides being able to control fire?”
“No. Not that I know of.” She thought about it a moment. “Neil did say that I could both create and control fire.” Looking up at me, she asked, “You can’t create air, can you?”
“Not that I can tell.” Then I asked, “Do you think this is something like a virus? Only, instead of making us sick, it makes us … extra-human?”
“Virus? I don’t know.” Darcy paused in thought. “My great-grandmother thought it was a family curse. If it’s a virus instead, maybe it’s genetic.”
I twisted around, and almost lost control of the wheel. “Your great-grandmother? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned her.”
“Yeah. I found an old journal of hers. She also had this affliction, and kept it hidden all her life. She was worried that one of her children would be cursed by a … a fallen angel … because our bloodline was tainted from thousands of years ago when these angels mixed with humans.” Darcy let out a hollow laugh. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I do think this power is passed down from generation to generation. Neil had never been close with any of his relatives, so he didn’t know if it was true for him.”
“Fallen angel?” I asked. “Is that some kind of demon?” The thought was disturbing, and though I had come a long way in what I could accept, I wasn’t sure I had gone far enough to believe I could be possessed by a supernatural being.
Dismissing that line of thought, I frowned, playing back the scene from David’s office with his father. I remembered the anticipation on David’s face when Terrence Matheson died, as if he were expecting something to happen to him. He was waiting for something to be passed from father to son.
But nothing had happened to him. Instead, it had happened to me.
The thought was so wild that my mind spun. It made no sense. I wasn’t related to the Mathesons in any way. My father had split before I was born. I knew his name and knew where he was living—though we had never met. I put the thought away for later consideration.
“You keep saying ‘was’. What happened to Neil?” Stacy asked. “You two were together, weren’t you?”
Darcy made a choking sound. “He was shot and killed a week ago.”
Her words hit home. My mother! I fought to keep the memories from welling up.
Her words caught in her throat. “They buried him a few days ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stacy said.
Darcy forced a smile. “He left me with a mission: to find others like ourselves and figure out why we have these powers.” She patted my shoulder. “That led me to you.”
“Led you to me? How?”
“I heard a story on the radio about a tornado ripping through Seattle, and thought it was strange enough to check it out. I hitched my way here.
“Halfway between Tacoma and Seattle I felt a weird tingle run through my stomach; it got stronger whenever I turned in this direction. It was kind of like a compass, or one of those radar blips. I paid the driver twenty bucks to head this way.” She laughed. “It obviously wasn’t enough for him to stick around.”
I stared back at her through the rearview mirror, and then glanced at Stacy. “I felt something odd when Stace and I were in our room eating.”
Darcy took a deep breath and smiled without humor. “Neil told me something like this was what led him to find me.”
“Maybe the things inside us are connected somehow, and can sense when others are near,” I said.
She nodded. “Now it’s your turn. How long have you been like this?”
I didn’t want to tell the story. It was too fresh and painful. Stacy put her hand on my arm gently, and when I looked at her, she nodded. Her eyes told me that everything would be all right, and it gave me enough courage to recall everything that had happened over the past two days.
When I was done, I looked at Darcy expectantly. There was a part of me that felt she would think I was making it all up, or I was deluded—despite everything she had done and said.
Darcy said, “I think we need to talk to this David Matheson person. He seems to know something we don’t.”
Somehow, hearing it from someone else erased the doubt in my mind. David had not set things up this morning to wrest power of the company from his father; he had set it up to inherit the elemental power from him. Their conversation made sense to me now.
The only thing I couldn’t figure out—and what had obviously shocked David—was that I had somehow inherited the power rather than him.
Could Darcy be wrong about it being passed down through bloodlines? Maybe it had to do with proximity when the possessor died? I kept thinking about the rosary Terence had ripped off his neck. What did that have to do with all this?
“I sure could use a few answers,” I said.
Stacy shook her head and set her jaw. “Not until we get my brother back.”
Nodding, Darcy said, “Of course. I’d be happy to help.” She looked back and forth between us. “So what’s the plan?”
Chapter Twenty
I didn’t have a plan, but in light of our attempted abduction, Stacy said she thought our best bet was to head for Vancouver that night.
“Won’t the game shop be closed?” I asked.
“We’ll have to hang out somewhere until morning.” Stacy pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “You were right, I guess. I shouldn’t have used this. Chuck would never have tried to contact us this way.” She pulled the battery out, rolled down the window, and tossed both into the ditch. “At least it didn’t have GPS on it,” she added.
Then she reached inside my jacket pocket and pulled out the prepaid phone Chuck had given me. “This number would be on my brother’s call list. Best to be safe.”
I shrugged. “Get rid of it.”
Stacy pulled the battery and threw it out.
She rolled up the window and asked, “So is there an on and off switch to these powers? How does it work?”
Darcy considered her answer. “Emotions are the trigger. Before I could learn to control the power, I needed to learn to control my emotions. If I get angry or scared for my life, something inside kicks in to protect me; unfortunately, it goes off more like a nuclear bomb than a carefully aimed rifle shot. It’s been extremely difficult to keep my emotions in check recently.”
She spoke the last sentence in a small voice, but the underlying pain came across loud and clear. She had mentioned her boyfriend, Neil, had been shot earlier in the week. I could only imagine what kind of effort it took for Darcy to contain her rage over that.
I knew I had been teetering on the edge since my mother died from the bullet I had deflected, and I knew that if I hadn’t had Stacy to keep me centered, I might succumb to my own grief and anger. But for me, those feelings would be directed entirely at myself. It was my fault that she was dead. I knew it was something that I would have to face, but the pain was still far too fresh for me.
“I’m sorry,” Stacy said in a soft tone. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened…”
Darcy put on a brave face. “Thank you, but I can’t let myself think about it too much.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
After a moment, I asked, “Is it easy to learn? The control? Can you show me how right now?” I glanced at Stacy, who looked as if she were going to object. “We’re going to have plenty of time before the game store is open, and I’m not tired anymore. Maybe we can pull over somewhere?”
I was genuinely curious about this new power of mine, and since Stacy had never witnessed it herself, I was a little eager to prove to her that I wasn’t making it all up.
With a glance at Darcy, who gave a slight nod, Stacy said. “All right. But let’s put more distance between us and Seattle first.”
* * *
We stopped at the Toutle River Rest Area halfway between Olympia and Vancouver. Even this late at night, the area was busy, and as I pulled into a parking stall, I gave Stacy a questioning glance.
“I’ve been here before,” Stacy said. “There’s a walking path leading off into the forest to the west. Unless we go completely off the highway on a side road, we won’t find anywhere more secluded. I don’t want to get caught on some farmer’s field and get shot at.”
In the trunk of my mother’s car, I found the emergency kit she had always kept, and pulled out a flashlight. I tested it, and it worked.
The night air was cool, and Stacy and I threw our jackets on.
I said to Darcy, “I have a blanket in here.”
She shook her head. “The cold is good. I’m not used to it, but it’s keeping me awake and alert.”
Together, the three of us made our way to the path Stacy had mentioned, and headed into the forest. After what seemed like an hour, we came to a small man-made clearing. There was a bench carved out of a tree stump, and a picnic table bathed in moonlight. A metal garbage can was chained to a table leg.
Darcy peered inside the garbage and reached inside. When she pulled her hand out, she held a paper cup. Propping it on the table, she stood back.
“Now, I’ve only been doing this a week or so. I wish Neil were here,” she said, her words catching in her throat. “He had years of practice.”
“I’m all ears,” I said.
Darcy motioned to the cup. “When your emotions are riding high, the power controls you. Only with the absence of emotion can you control it.”
When next she spoke, I could not hear a word of what she said. In fact, I might not have ever known she was speaking except that her lips were moving slightly. It was some kind of prayer.
Her eyes became unfocused, her shoulders dropped, and her breathing evened.
That was when my gut cramped. I could feel the power gathering around her. It was as if she were drawing energy from the very molecules in the air.
Her entire body seemed to expand as it filled up with whatever it was that gave us the power.
Slowly, she raised her hand in that same manner as she had earlier, when she used the power against Al and his men.
Expecting something spectacular and explosive, I grabbed Stacy by her shoulders and pulled her back.
A thin tendril of smoke drifted up from the paper cup. A tiny wisp of flame—smaller than a lit match—erupted and danced along the lip of the cup.
As the paper blackened and started to curl, Darcy turned to me.
“Put it out.”
“What?”
She gave me a half-smile and nodded toward the burning cup. “Gently, blow out the flame.”
Releasing Stacy, I stepped forward to come in line with where Darcy was standing, and blinked at the growing flame consuming the paper cup.
“Empty your mind of everything else,” Darcy said, her voice even. “There is nothing in the world except that cup and that fire. Look at it, and imagine the flame going out. Imagine that you are blowing it out like you blow out the candles on a birthday cake. But imagine doing that from here, and with your mind, not your mouth.”
I took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.
“Listen as hard as you can,” Darcy said. “Can you hear the paper burning?”
Straining, I could barely make out a very faint sound, though I don’t know if it was the sound of the fire, or just my wishful thinking. Either way, it forced me to focus my concentration, and I felt an electric tingle course through me, as if my veins pumped pure energy, rather than blood, through my body.
I had felt the sensation both times I had used the power before, but those times it had been raw and untamed. It had left me battered and spent. The effects had rendered me physically sick the first time, and unconscious the last.
This time was different. Following Darcy’s directions, the power that entered me was clean and smooth, full of promise rather than anger and desperation.
I imagined drawing all the particles of air around us in, focusing them into a zephyr that I would direct toward the paper cup.
The moment I pushed that light breeze out, I felt an immense surge
of power exploding outward. A sharp lance of pain went through my body, as if I had had the wind knocked out of me.
A blast of air shot forward. It was so powerful it ripped the table off the ground and sent it sailing into a copse of shrubs at the edge of the clearing.
Beside me, the force of the wind also pulled Darcy and Stacy forward. Both struggled to keep their balance as they stumbled after the picnic table.
When I saw they were both all right—though more than a little disheveled from the harsh gust—I felt my face redden. “Sorry. I guess I’m not very good at controlling it.”
Darcy, pushing her hair back with her fingers, said, “No, you did all right for your first attempt. This time it was you who summoned the power. It was your decision to call it up. You’ve never done that before; am I right?”
I thought about it, and then nodded. “Yeah.”
Then I saw the look on Stacy’s face. Even though she had said that she believed me, it was different from witnessing it herself.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said finally. “You made that tornado in your house.”
Not sure which direction her reaction was taking her, I nodded but didn’t say anything right away.
She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I think I have to sit down for a minute.”
I followed her to the tree stump bench and reached out to help her sit down. It was a good sign that she didn’t shrug me off.
“Are you going to be all right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, looking up at me. “I just have to let it all sink in. It’s like, before today, I thought the world was flat, if you know what I mean.”
“I know.”
Giving me a nod of assurance, she said, “I’ll be fine.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “You need to go practice before you start a hurricane or something.”
With a final look to make sure Stacy was all right, I went to help Darcy tip the picnic table up and drag it back to its original position.
I practiced summoning wind and directing it over the next half an hour until I was exhausted. At the end, I was able to put out any fire Darcy started without damaging anything, or anyone, else.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 33
