“I never died,” Nick says carefully as he raises his hands over his head. “I was taken.”
“And what, held captive for three days?”
“Three days? I’ve been gone for maybe an hour.”
“Trust me, Nick. I would know how long it’s been.”
“Right… Could you put the gun down?”
“No.” I take a step towards Nick, and he takes several steps back, until he’s pressed against the hallway wall. I don’t know what to make of him. He seems the same as always on the surface, and I can’t sense anything untoward about his aura. But it could easily be a trick. He could easily be a demon, or a shapeshifter, maybe even a hallucination brought on by stress. There’s no way to know for sure if what I’m seeing is real.
For a split second, I consider shooting him, then dragging his unconscious body back to the hotel to test him further. But out of nowhere, Nick mutters, “February 25th.”
“What?” I grip the gun tighter, and aim it at his forehead, just in case he tries anything while I’m distracted.
“February 25th. Our first date. We got Thai food… well, you did. And then we walked along the FDR Drive. And that’s where we first kissed.”
Part of me relaxes a little. I don’t remember going into detail about our first date with anyone but my best friends, Jenna and Rachel. So at the very least, this could be a monster with Nick’s memories. “Go on,” I order him. “You’ll need more than that to impress me.”
“I spent five years as a vampire, until your angel blood cured me.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You drool in your sleep sometimes. You keep your ticket stub from every movie you’ve ever seen. You prefer to use forks because you worry about spoons cutting the corners of your mouth. You secretly wish you were cool enough to drink, but you get horrible stomach pains every time you try. And you’re currently pregnant with our child.”
I close my eyes, and lower the gun a tiny bit. He doesn’t know. I try to keep the pain out of my voice as I tell him, “You were right, up until the end.”
Nick’s eyes widen in shock, and he asks, “What happened? And for that matter, what the hell happened to this place?”
“You really don’t know? You haven’t heard?”
“I have no idea.”
I sigh, and shove the gun back in its box. This Nick, whoever or whatever he is, doesn’t seem to be a threat. But I want to be incredibly sure that he’s the real deal. “I’ll explain. But first, grab some stuff from your room. And make sure you pack your suit.”
“Why my suit?”
“You’ll see.”
It takes Nick a few minutes to pack his things, which he does silently. Once he’s done, I send his bags and the metal box containing Krystal’s guns back to my room at the hotel. I’d like to just go there myself, but there’s still one thing left for me to do before I leave New York City behind. I promised I’d meet my scavenging partner before heading back. “Come on,” I tell him. “We’re going for a walk.”
After awkwardly squeezing my wings through the lobby doors, Nick and I are on the street, walking side by side. He seems to want to grab my hand, but knows me well enough to know that right now, I won’t let him. As we head downtown, I fill him in on everything that’s happened. The fight with Lily, the loss of our baby, Krystal’s death, the desolation of the city, how I earned my wings, everything. I’ve had to recount the story so many times now for the rest of the survivors that I expect not to feel the stab of guilt over my failure anymore. But it hits home like it always does, and my hands are balled into fists by the time I’m done talking.
Nick remains expressionless throughout the whole retelling, but frowns once I’m done speaking. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did Lily let you live?”
“Who knows,” I respond with a shrug. “All I know is that the next time I see her, she’ll wish she hadn’t.”
Nick stops in his tracks, and I turn back to get a full view of his judgmental stare. “You’re not seriously going after her, are you?”
“Maybe. What’s it to you?”
“We’ve both seen what revenge can do to a person. It’s not the kind of path you want to be on…”
I face forward, and continue walking. “We’re Nephilim. We’re supposed to fight, it’s supposed to be kill or be killed. And besides, millions of people are dead because I couldn’t kill her. Who knows how many more will die if I don’t?”
“Heather…”
“What about you? I watched you get dragged into Hell, I tried to save you. What happened there?”
The roar of an engine nearby drowns out Nick’s voice as he goes to answer. He looks panicked for a moment, but I’m not worried at all. I smile a little to myself; I should have known she would pull something like this. A sleek black motorcycle rounds the corner before our eyes, being ridden by my friend Alyssa. She shakes out her dirty blonde hair as the motorcycle screeches to a stop. Apparently, she still isn’t very good at riding one, despite Lily giving her lessons while the two were still dating.
“I thought we were supposed to meet up further ahead,” I shout over the rumbling engine.
“I got bored,” Alyssa explains with a smile, “So I rescued Baby, and rode her around until I found… Nick? Is that you?” She removes her rectangular framed glasses, and wipes them clean on the bottom of her shirt before putting them back on. Understandably, she looks as if she’s seen a ghost.
“Yep. I’m back,” Nick says with a shrug. “Miss me?”
“Oddly enough, I did.” Alyssa and Nick exchange a look, and it strikes me as odd that they get along as well as they do. Until fairly recently, the two of them held a grudge against each other because they were both in love with me. But it seems like they’ve buried the hatchet somewhere along the way. I’m not complaining; I’d much rather my boyfriend and one of my best friends be civil towards each other than be hostile. I just never dared to hope that they would be anything more than civil.
Alyssa switches off the motorcycle’s engine, and hops down from her seat. “Alright, so we came back for clothes and personal effects, but we found wings and the third side of a love triangle… all in all, not a bad haul.”
“I guess not,” I reply. “It’s about time we headed back, though.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s waiting for us.” Alyssa points a finger in Nick’s direction, and adds, “I’m sure everyone will be thrilled to know their favorite barista is back from the dead.”
***
The second my feet touch the royal blue carpet of my room at the Esplanade, I tell Nick to get his suit on. I wasn’t supposed to take so long when I volunteered to collect the other survivors’ things. And if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late. I shove Nick into the bathroom with his suit, and quickly change into a black dress that I’ve had saved for a special occasion. I was hoping it would be a happier one, but to be honest, I don’t see happier days coming my way any time soon.
Nick comes out of the bathroom fully dressed as I struggle to pull up the back of my dress. Now that I have wings in the way, getting dressed is way more of a hassle. I wonder if I’m going to have to ruin every item of clothing I own in order to accommodate them. Nick offers to help, and I tense up as his fingers touch the skin between my shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?,” he asks as we struggle to get the fabric to cover my whole back.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why are you flinching when I touch you?”
I groan, and alter the fabric to encircle my wings with a spell. I don’t feel entirely secure that my dress won’t slide right off, but it’ll have to do for now. “I’m flinching because I’m not sure if I can trust you yet,” I answer.
Nick steps back, and leans against the dresser behind him. “Since when is trusting me an issue?”
“I thought you were dead…” I fold my arms across my chest as memories of the past few days flicker to life in the back of my mind. “I grieved for you… I cried, which I try n
ot to do. For a while, I wasn’t even sure if I could carry on without you. But suddenly you’re back, and after everything I’ve seen and done, you expect me to just accept that there are no strings attached?”
Nick watches me with his wounded puppy eyes, and says, “There are no strings. I’m here. And I’m never leaving again.”
“You can’t promise that. And apparently, I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you…”
“Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m no damsel in distress.”
I allow myself a tiny grin; if this Nick remembers our first conversations, then maybe, just maybe, he’s the real deal.
I’m considering warming up to Nick, but a knock at the door draws our attention. Nick and I are both immediately on alert; he follows closely as I approach the door, neither of us daring to even breathe. I reach to uncover the peephole and see who’s out there, when an unfamiliar voice inquires, “Heather Santos?,”
“Who’s asking?,” I demand of the man in the hallway.
The door unlocks with a sharp click, and I’m so surprised that I step back as it swings open. Our visitor appears to be just an average man in a crisp black suit who looks vaguely familiar. I’d assume he was just another mourner preparing for the service, if it weren’t for the sunglasses and the wire protruding from his ear. If he’s trying to look like something that doesn’t scream secret agent, this man is failing miserably.
“Agent Rivera,” the man replies as he crosses the threshold into my room and closes the door. “You and I have a few things to discuss, Ms. Santos.”
“Yeah? Well, unless you’re here to talk to me about the Avengers initiative, I’m not interested.”
“I’m afraid not. This pertains to Ms. Andrea Collado’s affairs.”
Agent Rivera now has my attention. Given the small group of living people who know Krystal’s original name, he must have something important to share.
“Ms. Collado did some incredible work during her years working with the supernatural weapons development team,” he continues. “We kept an eye on her before and after she severed ties with them, and when she became the leader of the Caelestia clan a year ago, she and I worked together from a distance to ensure the safety of her clan, her jurisdiction, and all of the paperwork required to change the name and some of the regulations, among other things.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To clarify, I ask, “Are you telling me that spellcasters work with the government?”
“To a certain extent. We know of your existence, but only assist in your proceedings when needed.”
“I thought the VSA were the only ones you chose to work with.”
“Vampires have their own division, and handle their own affairs, for the most part. Spellcasters are still human, and under our care.”
“Alright… what do you want from me?”
Agent Rivera hands me a file, and tells me, “Before she died, Krystal named you as her successor. There may not be much of your clan left, but those who remain now answer to you.”
“What?” I rip open the file in my hands, and find, in much more technical terms, that what Agent Rivera told me was true. Krystal officially named me as the next leader of the Caelestia clan, roughly a month ago. “But… why?”
“Evidently, she believed in your leadership skills.” I continue to scan the file, while Agent Rivera says, “We’ll be working closely in the future to go over your responsibilities, and talk about any changes you’d like to make as the new leader.”
This is all so much to take in, that I don’t know what to say. I don’t want the position that’s being offered to me. As it stands, I don’t feel fit to lead anyone. I still have a lot of learning to do. And besides, I have a score to settle before I dedicate my life to taking charge of anyone else’s. I clear my throat, and ask, “Is that all?”
“Actually, no. I’m going to have to ask you to lie low.”
“What do you mean?”
In response, Agent Rivera pulls a phone out of his pocket, and presses play on a video that’s already been loaded. It’s security footage of Times Square, the night that Lily and I fought on the streets where anyone could see. I watch as Lily waves her hand, and a silver car flies through the front window of an Olive Garden. I can almost feel the pain of what happens next ripping through my abdomen all over again.
“We’ve been keeping tabs on Krystal,” he explains, “and by extension, everyone she’s connected to. So we know of your movements, and we know you’ve come very close to exposing the world to the existence of metahumans several times.”
“Yeah? And?”
“We created hunters like your friends Emma and Jenna for a reason, Ms. Santos. To make sure that we can keep the secrets that must be kept. And if you continue endangering those secrets… we won’t hesitate to have you neutralized.”
I glance at Nick, before fixing Agent Rivera with a deadly glare. “Agent, are you threatening me?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
Agent Rivera turns, and pulls open the door before answering. “Whether or not you decide to behave.”
3
What little time I spend waiting at the cemetery is short, but silent. I’ve got too much on my mind, and I assume that Nick does as well. Either that, or the entity replacing him is already gloating over their “successful” return. In any case, I’m glad for the silent respite while he travels his preferred non-magical way. I need a little time to think things through on my own.
Of all the things that came to light in my discussion with Agent Rivera, what confuses me the most is that Krystal would actually choose me, of all people, to lead the clan in her stead. I have absolutely no leadership experience. I don’t know the first thing about teaching others. Hell, I’m still a student myself. I’m young, and stubborn, and prone to following dangerous impulses. She knew all of this, and made sure to tell me when I wasn’t living up to her standards. So why would she pick me?
Alyssa would have been the much smarter choice. She’s everything I’m not. Calm and collected. Analytical. And most importantly, experienced. But what’s done is done. Now, I just have to figure out some way to tell my only surviving clan member that I’m now her superior.
Before long, Nick’s cab slows to a stop near the Kensico Cemetery. He steps out after paying the driver gawking at my wings, and we turn to observe our surroundings. I have to admit, this looks like a lovely place for my body to spend the rest of its existence. Well kept grass expands over hills in every direction, dotted with trees all along the driveway and scattered among the headstones. The cab dropped him off within walking distance from a small congregation near the lake, the very same people that we’re late to see. Nick offers me his hand, but I walk right past him, my eyes on the small crowd by the lake.
Surrounding a casket are the survivors of New York City’s obliteration, all in black to mourn our collective loss. My mother’s eyes are dry as she listens to the priest’s words. Jenna and her family are likewise stone-faced, their gazes trained on the ground in front of them. Standing with them is Nick’s sister, Emma… the rest of their family was destroyed in the blast that extinguished the city’s life. The same is true for Rachel, who hasn’t quite adjusted to outliving her parents and sister. Landon doesn’t bother trying to hide his tears; he wears them proudly, silently letting them flow, his normally vibrant eyes devoid of their usual spark. And Alyssa, for her part, looks mournful, but I’m not sure if she feels the pain of loss as intensely as the rest of us do. Or at least, she doesn’t express it as openly.
They all turn as one when they notice Nick and I approaching the service. There are a few hushed gasps and mutters that I can hardly make out as they tumble over each other, and I can’t tell if they’re more surprised by Nick’s reappearance or the feathered additions to my appearance. Nick and Landon share a brief hug, before turning towards Krystal’s casket once more.
For a moment, no one knows what to say or do. No one here
knows how to conduct a funeral; with this many metahumans in one place, we figured it would be safest to do this ourselves. But before the silence becomes unbearable, Landon asks, “Would anyone like to say a few words?”
Dead silence hangs in the air following the question, and it goes on for a few seconds before I volunteer to say something. A few people step back as I walk to the end of the casket where I think Krystal’s head might be. I look down at the polished wood, as if the right words are engraved there for my convenience. But they’re not, and the fact is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know much about Krystal. No one ever has. And now no one ever will.
That realization inspires the first few words of my improvised eulogy. “Krystal was a woman of many mysteries,” I begin. “She kept more secrets than she did friends, her real name being one of those secrets. But it’s no secret that she was an amazing woman in her time. She was a force to be reckoned with. During the last year of her life, most people spoke her name with either reverence, or horror. That’s something I aspire to achieve myself.
“That being said, hardly anyone knows the side of Krystal that she only showed to the people she was closest to. The side of her that would rather watch bad Lifetime movies in her sweatpants than head out to a bar with friends. The side that will kick your ass for you, and tell you to your face that you’re being an idiot, but that can be tender when she knows you need it. That’s the Krystal I knew. That’s the Krystal I plan to remember.
“But whether you knew her as Krystal or Andrea, chances are, you were kept in the dark about a lot of who she was. I’ll tell you; Krystal was strong. She was brave. She was shrewd. She knew when to cut her losses, and when to take a risk. What she lacked in height, she made up for in heart. I’m gonna miss her. And if you were privileged enough to catch a glimpse of who she truly was, then I know you’ll miss her too.”
I look to Nick and Landon once I’ve said my piece, and ask, “Anything you guys would like to add?”
They both shake their heads, and Landon says, “You said it all. That was beautiful.”
Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) Page 2
