by C. G. Blaine
I slip on a pair of sneakers. When I open the door again, the nerves kick in. My pulse quickens when Gabe smiles and extends his hand. I decide this time will be different. This guy won’t be like the others who stop calling and drop off the face of the earth after a few dates.
Then again, I always tell myself that, and they always do.
Gabe’s the kind of guy you expect to bring flowers. He opens doors and holds my hand while he drives and checks if I’m cold. Since our reservation isn’t for an hour, we stop at an art gallery he says he’s always wanted to visit.
We’re in a small room, just the two of us, and he slips an arm around my waist. But it falls away after a vase crashes off a pedestal behind us and startles me. A few minutes later, someone tells us they’re closing early, and we need to leave.
Since we still have time to kill, he takes the long way to the restaurant, and we walk in, right on time. Only the hostess stares at him, confused, when he gives his name.
“But you canceled your reservation. I just talked to you half an hour ago.”
He shakes his head. “I never called.”
She frantically checks the crowded dining room and stutters out an apology.
“We can eat somewhere else,” I say.
And so we stop at the first fast-food place we find and cram into a booth together. He steals most of my fries, and every time I laugh, he smiles. It’s sweet and uncomplicated. He really might be different.
I choose the movie, a cheesy romantic comedy I think he’ll hate, but he dutifully buys the tickets and popcorn and those chewy cinnamon candies without complaint.
We’re alone in the theater until the lights dim, and someone sits all the way down in front. During the previews, Gabe puts his arm around me, pulling me closer and trailing his fingers over my arm. The only other soul gets up and walks out. I look over, and Gabe’s gaze lowers to my lips. His mouth inches toward mine until a loud buzz makes me jump. Lights high on the wall flash red as the sound continues.
“Fire alarm,” Gabe says in my ear. “I think I’m bad luck or something.”
Or I should start believing in signs.
We evacuate with the rest of the building, no one in much of a hurry. An usher walking out with us comments about it being a false alarm. Rather than stand around, waiting for them to sort everything out, Gabe and I head to his car.
“You want to go somewhere without people and alarms and reservation disasters?” he asks, opening my door.
I smile and nod.
He stops at a park I’ve been to a few times with a lake in the center. We walk down a lit path that curves around trees. By the time we reach the water, I’m cold, but we sit on a bench anyway.
“I came here a lot with my parents when I was a kid,” he says. “Did you grow up in Boston?”
“Colorado.”
“Do your parents still live there?”
I force a small smile and shake my head, hoping he won’t ask anything more.
“You’re lucky then. Mine have lived in the same house my entire life. I think they still eat the same breakfast as they did my entire life too. What about yours? Stuck in the same old habits?”
One of the first things I did after the funeral was sell their house. I was only sixteen, and in order to stay out of foster care, I went through the courts to become an emancipated minor. After that, I could sign all the documents without needing a guardian or permission. I told the realtor to price it below market value. She thought I was crazy, but it sold in three days, and I took my first real breath since they’d died.
My eyebrows pull together, and I look around for nothing. “It’s freezing.”
On cue, I shiver. He runs his hands up and down my arms. “Let’s get you warm then.”
His arm stays around me on our way back, but it drops away as we reach the parking lot. He rushes over to his car. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He kicks at the flat front tire.
“Is that one you just replaced?”
“No, it’s the only one that I didn’t. I haven’t replaced my spare yet, so I’ll have to call someone.”
Gabe pulls out his phone. As he wanders away, a motorcycle pulls into the parking lot. It stops near the car, and the driver leaves the headlight on. It blinds me until someone walks in front of it. The body takes shape with a bright white glow around it.
Before my eyes fully adjust, the figure stops in front of me and says, “Hannah.”
His hair looks messy without gel, no eyeliner, and this black leather jacket is clear of spikes, but it only takes me a few seconds to recognize him. My mystery man from the Halloween party glares at me—tall, dark, and annoyed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“It’s a public park, Hannah. What are you doing in one after dark?” He glances at Gabe coming back in our direction and shakes his head. “Great.”
“Someone will be out in thirty to forty-five minutes.” Gabe nods at the guy who appeared while he was away. “A friend of yours?”
“We go way back,” Mystery Man says, an edge in his tone. He points at the phone still in Gabe’s hand. “Those places always take longer than they promise. How about I give Hannah a ride back to the dorms? Unless you want her stuck in a park with a history of stabbings.”
Gabe wants to argue, I can tell. But being the kind of guy you expect to bring flowers, he looks down at me. “What do you want to do?”
“She wants to not freeze to death, for starters.” Mystery Man shrugs out of his jacket, leaving him in a white T-shirt. He holds it out for me.
I slide my arms in. Sandalwood mixes with the leather, and I pull it tight around me, instantly warmer from his body heat. “Thank you.”
He’s rubbing the back of his neck, already walking away. “Let’s go.”
It’s not a suggestion anymore, so I shrug at Gabe. “I’ll call you when I get home?”
“We’re doing this again.” He pulls my hair out of the collar and brushes a finger across my cheek. “Soon.”
He watches me back away. Mystery Man watches, too, waiting on his bike when I turn around. He holds out the only helmet, but I shake my head.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me your name.”
His jaw works under the skin as he swings his leg over, off the bike. For a second, I think he might throw me on the back, but he sets the helmet on my head. “John,” he says. “John Smith.”
I huff and start pulling it back off.
“For fuck’s sake.” He shoves the helmet back down. “Cass, okay? My name’s Cass.”
His fingers yank the coat’s zipper up, and he climbs back on the bike. I check over my shoulder at Gabe, still looking in our direction.
Last chance, Hannah.
The motorcycle roars to life, and before I change my mind, Cass jerks me forward by the sleeve. I grip his shoulder and climb on behind him.
As soon as my feet touch the pegs, he guns the throttle. I throw my arms around his middle, and he tears out of the gravel parking lot. He pushes every yellow light, takes each turn too fast. My damn life flashes before my eyes, even after I’ve squeezed them shut.
Eventually, I get brave and peek. We’re farther from campus than at the start of this little joyride.
“Where are we going?” I ask at a red light.
Cass never answers, accelerating fast enough that the front end pops up. I cling to him tighter, and I swear he laughs, his abs contracting under my grip. For someone worried I might get stabbed with Gabe, he seems less than concerned about my safety now that I’m with him.
He slows down then, and we wind our way through the streets. We finally come to a stop in front of my building. I straighten up, cold when I let go of him. Even in short sleeves, he somehow remained warm the entire time.
“Do me a favor,” he says as I climb off. “Stop taking douchebags to the lake at night.”
I drag off the helmet and shake my hair out.
“Should I bring jerks instead?”
An eyebrow lifts, and he snatches the helmet from my hand. Wild motorcycle rides apparently make me mouthy. He motions for his jacket. The wind cuts through my sweater when I take it off. I wrap my arms around myself, fighting off the need to shiver.
“Go inside,” he commands.
The engine revs.
I step onto the curb, but after a few steps, I turn. “Goodnight, Cass.”
When I say his name, he lowers his head, and his back rises with a deep breath. “Go inside, Hannah.”
He still hasn’t moved when I reach the door and look back. I hurry in and upstairs to my room. Terra sits up on the bed, but I go straight to the window and check through the slats of the blinds. Cass stares up, his gaze hard on me through the glass. I can’t say why, but I feel like whatever just happened between us shouldn’t have happened. This guy I want is someone I shouldn’t want.
My phone vibrates with another call from Gabe. I tap the screen to ignore it and look out the window again, but Cass is gone.
It’s not against any rules for a Watcher to engage with their charge. Chaz has one he skydives with on a regular basis, reveling in the power during the free fall. But I don’t want to know Hannah. I don’t want her touching me or saying my name. I want her to live out her life and die in her sleep, old and gray, and free me from the metaphorical chains.
So, I keep as much distance as possible the first week after her failed date with Gabe. A date that only happened because I paid a little visit to my friend Barrett Lane at the costume shop. His face when I walked in, swinging the bunny head around, was priceless. I bashed him with it until I felt a twinge. It was Hannah opening the door to fucking Gabe. Who shows up an hour early for a date?
A few days before Thanksgiving, she forces me downtown while she goes shopping. I duck into the doorway of an insurance building as she gawks at a mannequin in a storefront. The clouds hang low in the sky. Most people carry umbrellas, all bundled up and ready for a cold rain to fall. Not Hannah, though. She wears a fucking sweater and leggings, and if she steps on a patch of ice, her boots will land her on her ass. After much deliberation, she heads into the store.
While she’s inside, the sky finally opens up, letting down sheet after sheet of sleet. I pull up the collar of my jacket, shoving my hands in my pockets. Without any light inside, my body responds to the cold like a human’s.
By the time she reemerges with another shopping bag, slush covers the abandoned sidewalks. We’re blocks away from her car as she contemplates her next move. Go back inside and buy a fucking coat.
Instead, she turns back the way she just came from. I follow at a safe distance, and after about a block, she dips into an alley that cuts across to the parking lot where she left her car.
The second she’s out of sight, I’m too warm—no, I’m fucking hot. Energy burns through me, demanding and urgent as it propels me across the street. A car honks, narrowly missing me when I sprint in front of it. Reaching the opening between the tall brick buildings, I search for the threat. Only nothing looks out of place. A garbage dumpster, a few cardboard boxes stacked next to a wall by a handcart. I’m almost at full strength with no apparent reason.
“Hannah,” I shout, slowing to a brisk walk so I don’t scare her.
She’s halfway down the alley and stops, turning at her name. Confusion washes over her face, and her mouth opens. Before anything comes out, a ripple appears in the air next to her. It only takes milliseconds for a being to materialize once the portal opens. Shadows swirl around the human form, my light instantly recognizing the dark.
A fucking demon?
I act without thinking, and an arc of light illuminates the alleyway, shooting from my hand and knocking him away from her. He bounces off the metal dumpster but teleports before hitting the ground. Hannah can’t even blink in the time it takes him to reappear behind her and grab her shoulders. Demons always revert to self-preservation if threatened, and she’s his best shield against further attack. While he keeps her between us, his eyes dart from me to the portal. The drop comes without effort, and my feet land on the concrete in front of it, blocking his escape route. Hannah’s terrified gaze meets mine for a split second before he launches a fireball from his palm. As I dodge, he throws her aside, and I take the opening. A bolt of energy strikes him in the chest, blowing him back. Midair, he vanishes, and my power goes along with him.
I drop to a knee, the sudden void inside me overwhelming. I shouldn’t feel like this, not a complete absence of light. Not until Hannah calms down. But I don’t sense any divinity. Nothing. Then I see her lying by the wall, unmoving.
No. No. NO! My head starts shaking as I scramble over to her, colder than I’ve ever been. It can’t end like this.
I press my fingers to her neck. Relief doesn’t have meaning until I feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, steady. I drape my coat over her, and as I pick up her limp body, I notice her boot print in a pile of slush where she slid. Demon or not, I blame the fucking boots.
A flicker of warmth spreads through me when we reach the end of the alley, and her eyes flutter open. She lifts her head, panicked. “Cass?”
“You slipped and hit your head,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows pull together, and she winces, touching the back of her probably cracked skull. “Let me down.”
“Not a chance.” I readjust my grip as she wiggles in my arms. “We’re going to the emergency room.”
She struggles for a few more steps and then huffs out a sigh, forfeiting the fight she wouldn’t have won anyway. I want her checked over, inside and out.
Stopping by the passenger side of her car, I hold my hand out. “Keys.”
Her eyes roll, and she digs through the purse hanging across her body. “This is ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Or you have a concussion, go to sleep, and die.” I rip the keys out of her hand and set her down.
While I open the door, she pulls on my coat. I’m in for another week of it smelling like flowers. I help her in and rush around to the other side. Before I even try to fit behind the wheel, I move the seat back, and as soon as I turn the key, I shut off the crap she calls music.
As I pull out of the parking lot, she turns in her seat to face me but doesn’t say anything. I glance over a few times, trying to gauge whether she remembers anything about the attack. If she does have a concussion, I’ll need to wait until she recovers to wipe her memories. Unless I want to chance screwing up her brain permanently and condemning myself to a forever of misery.
“What?” I finally ask.
She squints, studying me. “How did you know this was my car?”
“I saw you park earlier.”
“And why were you in the alley?”
“Why were you?” The irritation cuts through my tone. “Hoping to get mugged?”
She crosses her arms and sits back in the seat, pouting for the rest of the drive.
They won’t let me back with Hannah for her scans, so I hover outside the door, not wanting her far away.
At one time, a demon attack meant very little. They scoured around like sewer rats, irritating but a part of the day-to-day you ignored. But over the past several centuries, they’ve tightened ranks. The last time I even remember seeing one surface was in the eighteen-hundreds. And I’ve definitely never had one come after any of my charges.
My phone vibrates for at least the seventh time, Chazaqiel unable to take a hint. I step around the corner and into a darkened room with the light boards for reading X-rays.
“What?” I answer.
“Fuck you too, dude,” Chaz says. “From your mood, I take it that you also dealt with a little visitor today?”
I stop pacing, giving him my full attention. “Demon?”
“Low-level bitch who ran as soon as I showed up. He tried a snatch-and-grab on one of my charges.”
“So, we think they’re targeting Nephilim?”
“Not sure, but it sounds like more than a coincidence. We’d better give the other two a heads-up, just in case.”
I rub the back of my neck, the tension building. “I’ll call Ros, but Samy’s MIA.”
“Again?” Chaz sounds about as unconcerned as I’d expect. “How long this time?”
“No idea. He missed his hundred-year check-in with Lydia. She popped in a while back, looking for him. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since.”
“Well, he always shows back up. Even if it takes two or three decades.”
“True,” I say. “I’ll let you know when he does. Keep in touch.”
“Yeah, I’ll send a fucking Christmas card.” He snorts as he hangs up.
I poke my head out into the hall. Since the crystal ball is still in my jacket, which lies on a chair inside the room with the rest of her clothes, I rely on good old-fashioned spying and peek through the small window of the door. All I see are Hannah’s feet sticking out of a machine, explaining the sensation settling inside me. She’s not a fan of tight spaces.
I return to the dark room and call Rosdan.
He answers on the first ring with an exhausted, “Demon attack on your Nephilim?”
I drop into a chair, his question confirming what I feared. “One of Chaz’s too.”
“Perfect.”
A deep sigh comes through the speaker. I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. Armaros—Rosdan for the past few centuries—never deserved any punishment. He merely suffered from the worst case of wrong place at the wrong time in the history of everything by being on Earth when the hammer came down on all of us. We call him the Cursed One, and he’s earned the nickname over and over again. Every time he comes close to reaching the end of his line, someone has twins. Or triplets, as was the case last year.
“What’s the plan?” he asks.
My turn to sigh because I have no idea. The role of leader belongs to Samy—always has and always will. Chaz fills the place of bro, Rosdan acts as our resident therapist, and I’m the asshole who mostly broods.
