I hadn’t healed a human since Balmorhea. Since Kevin Reese, my dad’s friend. For the most part human weren’t too difficult to heal. An angel came to me injured, slashes burned into his forearm and instead of healing they worsened. It’s what happened to members of the Vile and Virtuous. I learned when they fought it took significantly longer and more energy for their injuries to heal.
I felt the healing energy flow through my core, down my arms, into my hands. My wings came free on their own, spread wide knocking glasses off the shelves. Our position was awkward but effective. The moment over, I pulled my hands back revealing blood soaked clothes and a frightening scar. Three jagged lines, each a little longer than the other, sat atop her breastbone for all the world to see for the remainder of her days.
“It’s better than being dead. Right, Jamie?” I mumbled to myself.
I knew there would be questions Jamie had no business contemplating. So out of necessity, I picked up the discarded shard of metal that was lodged in her chest and drew a long but superficial line on her forearm. Jamie made no move but winced slightly.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her arm. Abigail’s body lying on the ground. It looked as if the Vagabond had already released her, and hopefully she wouldn’t remember being possessed. I would have to come back for her.
“Up you go,” I lifted Jamie upright and leaned her against my shoulder. We limped out the door and I moved to the crowd as if she was quite heavy.
The crowd was gathered across the street, many cradling each other and standing over Jamie and me. Another bystander helped me go back in and get Abigail. I feigned a head injury until the paramedics arrived, then disappeared from the crowd altogether. Heading to the rear of the building I snuck in to retrieve my backpack. No one paying attention to me at this point, and that was how I liked it. The less people saw of me the safer it was for everyone involved. I wasn’t good at answering questions.
I walked the three miles back to my apartment sipping on the bottle of liquor from my backpack.
What happened in there?
Who sent the Vagabond?
I can sink my teeth into their slippery entrails if you let me. I would give you the glory. Their deaths would be a gift to you for my freedom.
I sighed and took another drink pushing down the evil within me. Sometimes my daemon’s bloodlust scared even me.
Someone was coming.
I will have you or I will have him. In the end there is no difference.
I lifted the bottle high downing the rest of its contents hoping the message would be lost in my drunken serenity.
***
My mind was still on the attack when I sat in class the next day. The freak Wi-Fi incident was what everyone was calling it. It wouldn’t be good for business, but if the Coffee Shack and if the patrons believed it was the Wi-Fi malfunction that was to blame for all the electric devices going haywire, then who was I to argue with them? I had noticed when you let humans arrive at their own conclusions, they can convince themselves of anything. Even an impossible answer is better than none at all.
5
I showed up sober after the incident at the Coffee Shack. Sober and I didn’t get along too well- we fought each other like only old friends could- bitterly and with a full knowledge of each other’s weaknesses. But with the attack on the Coffee Shack, I realized I needed my focus back. I needed to find my strength again.
That morning, while getting ready for school, my senses felt heightened. The shower spray was so hot my lungs felt heavy from the heat. The brush through my hair pulled on my scalp like it was tearing the skin straight from my head. I gave my reflection a good hard stare as I gulped my second cup of coffee.
I had beat every enemy I had come up against. I can be sober. I can be better.
Walking through the double doors of the lecture hall, I paused to see Dr. Gaines rushing around. Something was wrong.
It’s him.
My captivating self-righteous stranger.
“Here are my notes for the rest of this week,” Dr. Gaines said to him, handing him a stack of paper and a zip drive. “I’ll have to dig into my hard drive and find the others. I’ve never had to miss class like this, so I’ve never had to save anything. I don’t like to repeat old lectures so I don’t have the need to save much.”
I could hear the urgency in her voice. I was the only student who arrived early, and for me it was an oddity. Neither of them expected to see me.
He kept his focus on Dr. Gaines, like he should have, but now she had my attention as well. Her heart was racing, betraying her usual calm collected smile, “Oh, good morning, Layla.”
I looked trying to gain his attention but no luck.
“Is there something wrong, Dr. Gaines?” I asked while still staring at his perfect profile.
“My husband had a heart attack last night.”
My eyes snapped to her, “Oh my God.” My words like sandpaper in my own ears.
“I’m worried sick, but I’m trying to be positive” She attempted to soothe herself, but there were unshed tears in her eyes. “He’ll be having surgery this week to clear a blockage, and his recovery will be extensive. I’ll be taking a leave of absence for the remainder of the semester.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. He’s lucky to still be alive.”
“I keep telling myself that too,” she turned and gestured to the imposing figure I had been trying to ignore. “Cyrus, I mean Dr. Williams, will be taking over for today. He will be leading my graduate courses.”
Cyrus.
I turned my attention to back to him. He was already staring expectantly at me, saying nothing. He was going to let me answer that question. But instead of saying anything at all, I simply offered my hand, inviting him to do the same.
“We’ve met,” was all he said.
His touch sent a shiver through my arm, and the fire within me ignited the hollow chambers of my heart. I fought my smile and the familiar tingle that threatened to steal my resolve. He didn’t have such issues. He smile was genuinely bright, and brought with it the peace only an angel could possess.
I turned remembering Dr. Gaines’ dire situation. He gripped my hand a little tighter sending me a silent message not to interfere. This situation wasn’t mine to fix, and she hadn’t asked me for help, but I couldn’t stop myself from offering this time.
Before the words were even out, Cyrus cut in, “We have everything under control. The professors know what to do and the doctors know what to do. There’s nothing else to be done. Go be with your husband.”
He was giving off those soothing angel vibes. I could feel them. They were aimed at Dr. Gaines, trying to calm her down. I listened as her heart rate slowed. She inhaled and exhaled greatly and managed to smile.
She held back the unprofessional tears threatening to spill, “Thanks for filling in today when everyone was busy, Cyrus.”
“It’s no problem. You’re welcome,” he answered. “I’ll say a prayer over you and your husband. Everything will work out as it should.”
With those parting words, she was gone.
I felt so useless. Cyrus had stepped in before I could even offer to help.
Wasn’t I supposed to fix it?
Cyrus touched my shoulder, “You cannot fix the world’s problems. And you can only help when you are able to.”
Who are you?
His words made my insides squirm with anger at his high handedness. This was my job. “You think you know me?”
“I know more than you think, which is more than you want me to know,” he laughed.
His hand still rested on my shoulder. We both glanced at it, and instead of removing it he only smiled. I moved closer, unable to resist him.
“I know what it means to fight your nature, to hate who and what you are.” His voice was deep and melodic. I began to fall under the spell of his soothing words and gentle voice, “I know what it means to be lost.”
Lost.
My thoughts thro
ugh his tightly woven melody. I pulled myself from him and raised my chin. Who did this guy think he was anyway?
“So you decide to come to my town, my college, get in my face and tell me what’s wrong with my life? You’re not taking over this class because you’re some great benefactor. What do you really want?”
My question went unanswered. Instead he paused, finding the right words, “Sometimes it takes someone outside of your friends and family to help where they cannot.”
He thought I was broken, and I was, but I didn’t want help from him. Orrin had done just that years before when I lived in Providence with only my father. He was a stranger just like Cyrus. I couldn’t talk to my father or Bennet about my birthright. It was only when Orrin showed up, full of anger and self-righteousness, was I able to get it through my thick skull that I wasn’t losing my mind, I really did have unique daemonic powers gifted to me by Lillith at my birth.
Whether I accepted it or not, I was a Vulgar- part human, daemon and angel. The fate of the world was entwined with my own. I couldn’t have held onto my sanity with Orrin Darringer.
Uncomfortable with his piercing blue eyes, I looked away.
He has blue eyes.
Blue eyes, like Orrin.
I turned to take a seat in the cavernous lecture hall as far from Cyrus as possible when I heard, “Have coffee with me. It’s important.”
It wasn’t a question but a command.
Coffee. The Coffee Shack. The blood. The Vagabond. Did he do that?
I saw the realization hit him as it was hitting me. I could feel him pulling the thoughts from my head. Before I even decided if I wanted to tell him about the Vagabond’s message, he already knew.
“You think I am that devious?” He asked looking wounded. “But you’re right to think it wasn’t an accident. Someone dangerous is playing with you, Layla.”
“I’m a big girl, Cyrus.”
He came to tower over me once more and I stopped breathing. I tried not to think. I tried so hard, but by trying not to think the only thing I did was project my thoughts even louder. And at that moment, I really wanted him to kiss me.
He stared down at me. He didn’t need to read my thoughts to know. I could read his body as easily as he was reading mine. And at that moment he wanted to kiss me too.
I could hear his heart was racing with mine. His hand shook a little as he raised it. He touched only my shoulder, but I could feel the heat of his hands through my shirt. He slipped his fingers farther down to my elbow and farther around my back. Was he removing my backpack? I was in trouble.
If he tries to attack, I can take him.
“You’re not that big, and you’re not old enough to take me on,” he whispered, moving impossibly closer.
My body warred with my brain as I tilted my head back preparing for him to make his move when he brought my backpack in between us. He swiftly reached in and pulled out my recently purchased glass bottle of vodka I had been carrying just in case.
“And you’re sure as hell done hiding inside this.”
I was too stunned to catch him in time. Cyrus threw the full bottle against the wall. The glass smashed, the liquor danced down the wall and colored the carpet.
“What the hell,” I yelled taken aback. I went to the pool of liquid knowing I would have to clean it up. The class would be filtering through the door any moment.
“Leave it,” Cyrus grumbled, “I need your help.”
I let out a few unladylike words and turned back to him. “I knew you were going to say that.”
He knew exactly what to say to make me beholden to him. I was compelled to help him after that. Whatever service he required, that was within my power, I had to give. I turned, giving him my full scowl.
“What?” I seethed.
“I want, no I need your help.” His voice was light and he was smiling again enjoying where his words were taking me. “My favorite coffee place is closed for a while and I don’t know where else to go.”
“We have class,” I countered.
He raised his hands like a comical magician, “And now don’t. Voila.”
“Fine,” I turned to see Abigail and a few other grad students making their way in to the lecture hall.
“Did I hear you say we don’t have class today?” she said, glancing over us to the wet mess and strong smell emanating from the wall behind us.
Cyrus waited a few minutes to inform the class of Dr. Gaines’ leave of absence for the remainder of the semester. He explained the coursework would be turned in online, Dr. Gaines could still be reached after her husband’s surgery next week, but until then they could rely on him. He passed out a sheet of paper to everyone with his contact information.
“Dr. Williams, are you going to be available to advise us on our thesis?” one worried student asked. “Many of us just lost all of our work yesterday when our computers…malfunctioned.”
Many looked to me, condemning me with those glares, thinking I was at the heart of yet another problem plaguing them. I hadn’t thought about rewriting my thesis. I would have to do that again too.
“Then I gather you should spend the rest of today and this week recreating what was lost.” Cyrus warned the group. “You are not the first grad students to lose their work due to computer problems. The due dates stand. And yes, you may consult with me on any questions you have regarding your thesis. My concentration is not British Literature like this group, but I do have extensive knowledge on the subject as well as literature from various cultures.”
“Well what are you a doctor of?” Abigail crossed her arms, her rudeness barely veiled.
Cyrus smiled a little too politely, “I hold two doctorate degrees in Archeology and Anthropology. Please do not let my appearance or age fool you into thinking I am without the proper expertise. Dr. Gaines is a friend of mine and I am filling in currently because my courses do not technically begin until the first summer session.”
The small class looked at him, mouths agape at his accomplishments. He didn’t look old enough to have one doctorate degree let alone two. Some students in the group were significantly older than he, or so they believed.
If they only knew.
“If there are no more questions then you are excused.”
With that he grabbed my back pack and turned to me sheepishly, “Now that class is taken care of, on to my other urgent matter- finding good coffee.”
I matched his joviality with equal amounts of gloom. He just cancelled class and might as well have handcuffed me to his side. I wasn’t quite sure if I minded being bound to him but I was surely going to make him buy me coffee, since he smashed my bottle of vodka.
“Follow me, Dr. Williams.” I mumbled.
6
“What kind of college professor owns a Mercedes Benz G-class?” I scoffed and ran my hand along the hood of the extravagant white tank-like SUV.
He just smiled and opened the door for me.
“This car costs more than my college education,” I scoffed.
Now it was his turn to scoff, “You have two degrees from Trinity University. I don’t think so. Your education far surpasses the value of my car.”
I wouldn’t call myself a car person, but right then, I definitely wanted a car. A statement, some sort of accessory that defined me, like this sophisticated tank defined Cyrus. I still remember the first time I saw Orrin parked down my street in his sleek, black Audi. And again in his life as Heath he drove an old beat up pick-up truck.
How could two totally different vehicles fit the same person so perfectly?
I couldn’t help but miss him. He was a gaping hole within me, a pulsing pain, never healing. I just had to hold onto the hope that one day that piece would be returned to me, or I could learn to live with the pain. Admittedly I hadn’t been doing much of that lately. I had been hiding in liquor bottles.
I made a mental note to check my finances and see about finally getting my own set of wheels. I would definitely have to stop spending so m
uch of my pay check on liquor and pick up some extra shifts…or get a real job.
“You’ll have to get a new license first,” Cyrus interrupted my train of thought and headed out of the parking lot.
“I don’t like how you do that,” I fired back offended, but he just laughed.
“I can’t help it. It’s an angel thing. Part of my birthright. Most of the time it’s pretty irritating. I was excited with the invention of headphones this past century. I don’t go anywhere without them most days.”
“But still, you shouldn’t comment on other people’s private thoughts.”
“Oh, I don’t do that to just anyone. People would catch on. Usually I believe privacy is important. I’m a very private person. It comes from being so old. You’ll learn in a few centuries.”
I don’t know why but the thought of staying drunk for centuries felt dreadful.
“I agree,” he interrupted again, “You should just stop now.”
“Seriously, stop it!” I seethed.
“It’s you who’s doing it. Not me. I can only hear unguarded thoughts, and right now you’re pretty much blasting them out like a normal human. Has no one ever told you angels can hear other people’s thoughts?”
“No.” I made a mental note to discuss the topic with my mother.
We drove down the major interstate leaving downtown and the people oblivious to the war surrounding them. They were too busy, caught in their own daily wars, plagued by the simplicity of their humanity to see anything beyond the end of their nose- or so I thought. I spent those three years surrounded by my own anger and blinded by my troubled. At that moment I was more aware off my human nature than ever.
I looked out the window to see a weathered, tired billboard that was long forgotten by the travelers making their way to their nine-to-fives. The words He’s on his way, were in peeling black letters- nothing else, just four simple words without picture or explanation. I almost looked away when those black letters began to fade against the white late-morning sun. Whether it was arrogance, intuition or insanity, I knew it was another message for me.
The Lariat (Finding Justus Series) Page 3
