ELEVEN
RAY ANNE AND I STOOD HOLDING our Marble Slab ice-cream cones, waiting for the pregnant cashier to ring up our order. It was awkward, standing next to Ray Anne with a close-up view of the baby’s tiny shimmering light emanating through the woman’s tight T-shirt, from inside her belly. A crushing reminder of Ray Anne’s infertility.
For me, the issue was settled. I was prepared to give up having biological children in order to marry Ray Anne. But the way Ray was fidgeting and angling away from me right now, I got the impression she was still really struggling with it.
We sat at a small square table, and Ray Anne gave Jackson bites of her Dutch chocolate ice cream. She kept eyeing the cashier and frowning. “You were right. Those metal masks are awful.”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t see it on her?”
The woman looked normal to me. Distracted and maybe a little sad, but that’s all.
“Addiction’s got her,” Ray Anne said. “I feel so sorry for her baby.”
I glanced back again and still couldn’t see it, but then again, Ray Anne had always been a much more compassionate person than me.
I looked toward the door just in time to catch Ethan walking in with a young brown-haired woman I’d never seen before, both wearing medical scrubs. And both Lights.
The only time I’d talked to Ethan in recent months was to confirm he was coming to the student pastors’ meeting this Sunday. He was filling the role at the church for now, until they found a permanent hire. Pastor Gordon had never mentioned the open position to me, but it’s not like I’d expected him to.
And at church on Sunday mornings, Ethan was onstage singing in the choir—one of the featured ones out front, with his own microphone. So our paths hardly crossed.
I held my breath, hoping Ray Anne’s face wouldn’t light up like a firecracker when her eyes met his. She swore she didn’t feel that way about him, but there was no reason to assume he’d stopped liking her. How could he? Ray Anne was the whole package.
He spotted us and approached our table, wrapping an arm around the dark-haired girl’s shoulders like maybe they were more than friends. “Hey, guys.”
Ray paused wiping chocolate off Jackson’s chin and tilted her head back. She didn’t light up. It was worse than that. She nearly gasped, like the sight of Ethan with a girl stung like a slap to the face.
I gnawed the inside of my cheek, working to convince myself I’d just read way too much into Ray Anne’s reaction.
Ethan introduced his doctor friend, but I didn’t catch her name. I was too preoccupied watching every nuance of his interaction with my girlfriend. He stood close to Ray Anne, and the two of them chitchatted while the brunette and I exchanged sympathetic smiles. You feeling left out too?
Ethan said something about meeting up here tonight with his coworkers. Meanwhile, my supernatural eyes picked up on cobwebs all over the girl. I still had no clue what force of evil was doing that to people, Lights and Shackles alike, or what it indicated.
I stood and threw away my napkins, working to give off a cool vibe, like I couldn’t have cared less that, only months ago, Ethan—a pretty-boy ER doctor in his midtwenties—had professed to having feelings for Ray Anne. And she’d admittedly wrestled with the thought that maybe he was more her type than I was. For the sake of her own happiness, I’d released her to be with him.
But she’d chosen to come right back and commit to me. To me, I reminded myself.
I sat back down, and finally, Ethan and his girlfriend—or girl friend—left us to place their order. Ray Anne flashed me a smile like she had nothing to hide. And for the record, I trusted her. She wasn’t, and never had been, the cheating type. Unfortunately, the thought of her having even the slightest hint of a crush on Ethan was maddening. And the extra strife brewing in me wasn’t helping.
Ray Anne and I cleaned off our table, and before leaving, to be polite, I turned to give Ethan a farewell handshake. But when he reached out, I stood there staring. More like glaring.
How’s that possible?
The defender seal. On his right forearm.
It glowed just like Ray’s and mine. The exact same Hebrew letters. But it was our special assignment—hers and mine. Our connection with Arthur’s prophecy. Exclusive to us.
I finally shook Ethan’s hand, hoping Ray Anne hadn’t noticed the mark on him, nor the uneasiness on my face.
Did this mean he was one of the people chosen to help us carry out our mission?
It was bound to, but I stood there racking my brain, trying my hardest to formulate an alternative—anything except him being called to team up with Ray and me. Yeah, he was one of the student pastors I planned on asking help from on Sunday, but surely God cared enough about me to exclude Ethan. That was a distraction I didn’t need right now. And certainly Ray Anne didn’t either.
Hard as it was to admit, even just to myself, I couldn’t get rid of the fear that Ethan would win my girl’s heart away from me eventually. And that perhaps God actually wanted the two of them to be together, given Ethan’s lifelong commitment to holiness—a stark contrast to my own blemished record. The truth was, Ethan was a more spiritual man than I’d ever be, even with my supernatural senses.
I’d taken comfort recently in Ray’s and my matching seals, our identical heavenly callings as defenders, but now that he had one too . . .
I wanted to crush his fingers. Instead I released our handshake and forced a smile.
Ray Anne stood by the exit, waving goodbye, oblivious, it seemed.
I walked over and opened the door for her, grateful we were leaving. As she rolled Jackson’s stroller out of the ice-cream shop, more people in scrubs approached from the parking lot—five or six of them, laughing like they were blowing off steam after a long shift at the hospital. And leading the way was none other than Dr. Brody Bradford, his charming smile masking a darkened heart.
Ray and I knew this could happen—that we could run into Dr. Bradford somewhere, and he’d spot Jackson. But she still wasn’t prepared to face him, as evidenced by her loud gulp and trembling hands.
I gently grabbed the stroller from her, trying to head straight to the car and avoid coming face-to-face with the malicious doctor, but he called our names and strode to us like a man on a mission. Because he was. “Hello, Owen. Good to see you, Ray Anne.” He stepped close, then lowered to the ground, eye-level with Jackson. “I saw this little guy with your mom. Remind me of his name?”
Even if I was wrong and the man sporting the revolting ram’s mask at the sick ritual hadn’t been Dr. Bradford, everyone in this gossipy town knew by now that Jess had left her child with Ray Anne. And surely Dr. Bradford would have connected the dots that his own son was the boy’s father. But this man operated in deceit, not honesty.
Jackson wailed like he’d just been pinched, like he knew this man was dangerous.
“This is Jackson, Jess Thompson’s son.” I told the straight up truth. I’d been doing that a lot lately.
Dr. Bradford could have won an Academy Award for the performance that followed. Shock overtook his expression, the grin fading from his suntanned face, erasing the dimples in his cheeks. “Jess? You mean . . .”
He stood, searching our faces like he was just now making the connection. Ray Anne teared up. I angled the stroller away from the doctor, feeling a fierce instinct to protect Jackson.
Dr. Bradford motioned for his coworkers to go inside without him, then put his hand on my shoulder. It was chilled, as usual. “Owen, you and Jess had a son?”
What an act—a mind game, really—and yet he was so good at it, I almost wondered if he was actually sincere. But of course, he wasn’t. Not only had I been an eyewitness to his deadly motives toward Jackson, but the boy looked just like Dan. Like Dr. Bradford, too, from certain angles, even though I’d always tried to suppress the thought. It was obvious whose lineage he came from.
I’d had enough. “You know good and well I’m not his father.”
I couldn’t believe Ray and I had set out on an easy trip for dessert, and now it looked like I might have no choice but to get physical with Dr. Bradford. How dare he get in my face and shout like that?
I took a big step back, fuming, but kept my voice down. “You know exactly who Jackson’s father is, and you were there, at the occult ritual in April, when we rescued him from you and the others.” It was a huge risk to be so outspoken—deadly, even, in this town—but silence and secrecy had to be challenged at times. Times like this.
Dr. Bradford grabbed the sides of his head like he was trying to control his thoughts with his fingers. “No. I got out years ago. That’s in the past.”
My jaw dropped at the same time as Ray’s, both of us shocked by his open admission that he’d been in the occult—not that I believed he’d ever quit.
He rubbed hard up and down on his face like he was losing his mind. Then he lurched at me, grabbing both my shoulders so that I bowed up, ready to defend myself. But all he did was plead. “I wasn’t at any ritual last April—I swear. And if they’re out to hurt my grandson, so help me . . .”
He dropped to one knee and stroked Jackson’s head. The baby was crying even harder now. “I’ll never let them harm you,” Bradford said.
He stood again, and by now, Ray Anne was in tears too, freaked out and confused. He patted her back like he really cared. “Ray Anne, I’m here to help. I was aware Jess left town some months ago, but my son never once mentioned a child. You shouldn’t bear this burden alone.”
“She’s not alone,” I said.
“He’s not a burden,” Ray Anne added.
Dr. Bradford’s eyes were glossy. “How can I help?”
I didn’t hesitate. “By staying away from Jackson. And my mother, too.” I was sure he had ulterior motives toward my mom, not that I’d nailed them down yet. I’d seen Dan’s bruises in high school, inflicted by his own father—this man. He had no business spending time with any woman or child.
Dr. Bradford’s bottom lip quivered. The performance of a lifetime. And as he and I stood there, locked in an intense mutual gaze, I saw something dark flicker in his eyes. The sickening sign of possession.
As if he knew what I’d seen, he worked to cover his tracks. “I still battle demons from my past—I admit that. But I am not the monster you think I am.” He stared longingly at Jackson. “And I want to be in my grandson’s life.”
Ray Anne sighed and lowered her chin. Those were the very words she feared.
“Dan terminated his parental rights,” I said. “And for now, Jess has made Ray Anne Jackson’s guardian, and she isn’t letting him out of her sight.”
Bradford gave a defeated, single nod. “I don’t want to interfere. I just want to do what’s right by the child.” He looked at Ray Anne. “Do you need financial help?”
I stepped between my girlfriend and him, recalling the vile words I’d heard him bellow out from behind his gruesome mask. “She doesn’t need anything from you.” I put one arm around Ray Anne and steered the stroller with the other. “We’re leaving.”
Bradford stood there, watching us the whole time we strapped Jackson into his car seat, until I drove Ray Anne’s Hyundai off the parking lot.
Ray Anne was still distraught when I parked in her driveway and turned the ignition and lights off. I sat still in the driver’s seat, focused on being a good listener while she talked hysterically fast, making up one doomed scenario after another, each ending with Jackson in Dr. Bradford’s lethal hands. “I mean, what if that man arranges to have me killed, Owen?”
As much as I wanted to assure her it would never come to that, could I, given what I’d already seen Bradford attempt?
I couldn’t stomach the thought of more harm coming to Ray Anne, or God forbid, her death. But since fear was not an option for either of us, I redirected my attention. “Don’t talk like that, Ray Anne. We can’t think that way.”
She was shaking all over and gasping, crying thick tears. It wasn’t like her to come unglued, but when it came to that little boy in the back seat . . .
It didn’t surprise me when a fanged Creeper, fear carved in its forehead, began circling outside our vehicle, peering into the moonlit car at Ray Anne through her passenger-side window.
To be clear: every single Creeper inflicts fear, no matter its rank or assignment; some just bear the actual name and targeted mission.
“Ray, sweetheart, we can’t panic.”
She saw the mongrel pressed against the glass and released her head back onto her headrest. “I can’t believe I just drew that thing here. I don’t want to be afraid. It’s just . . .” She turned and eyed Jackson as he slept. “He means everything to me.”
I saw it as my responsibility to calm her, to say something reassuring that would drive fear from her heart—and off her driveway. But she flipped on the vehicle’s interior light and spoke first. “Why are you making those fists?”
“Huh?”
Sure enough, my hands were clenched so tight, my knuckles were white. “Um . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to appear unspiritual. Unattractive to her. But I couldn’t lie to her. Not anymore. “I’ve been battling this annoying, like, hostility ever since we encountered Strife.”
She put a comforting hand on my bicep. “He has no right to put that on you.”
“I know, and I—”
All of a sudden, my issue wasn’t so important anymore. Not compared to what I was seeing on her.
Slowly, I reached and placed my finger under her chin, gently tilting her head back, examining her throat. I lifted her hair so I could look at the back of her neck. I didn’t mean to flinch.
“What’s the matter?” She searched my face. “Do you see something?”
When I didn’t answer, she flipped the passenger sun visor down and scanned her reflection in the small mirror.
I didn’t blame her for wanting to know, but I’d have to be the one to tell her. Experience had already taught us that we rarely had the ability to behold our own bondages, even with our visionary gift, and it definitely wouldn’t show up in a mirrored reflection. But she was already wringing her hands, battling fear. Now seemed like the worst possible time to deliver the news.
There was something thin and black coiled around the top of Ray Anne’s spine, at the base of her shackle-free neck, wrapping all the way around her throat, just beneath the surface of her skin. It was stretched across the same spot as Gentry’s jagged mark of assassination, only this thing had girth, like it was a creature, not just a mark.
I recognized a serpentine curse when I saw one.
How had it gotten inside Ray Anne—a Light—and when? Her neck had been fine a few minutes before.
“Is there something on me?” She demanded to know.
It was another one of life’s defining moments—a crossroad of internal conflict. I could tell her the horrifying truth and risk her anxiety skyrocketing, or I could fib and act like everything was normal. But there was no way to spare myself the unsettling reality. A snake twisted around her spine was bad enough, but its tail tucked beneath her chin like that . . .
Was she marked for assassination too?
The thought of Ray Anne dying was among my most paralyzing fears—the horrific notion that I’d try with all my might but again fail to protect her, and this time, all would be lost.
I knew the kingdom of darkness was no match for ours—the mighty Kingdom of Light—yet hard as I tried to resist it, fear was staring me down too now. Literally. The stalking Creeper leapt over the roof of Ray Anne’s car and glared through my driver’s side window. Our light kept it outside the vehicle, but our fretting must have been giving off some kind of spirit-world pheromone, keeping it enticed.
She gripped my hand. “Owen, whatever’s going on, be honest with me.” Her gaz
e bored into the side of my face. “Please.”
Months ago, I’d committed to stop protecting her from harsh realities, trusting that she could handle the truth, however dire, and we could get through anything together. But this?
I took a deep breath, placing my palms on either side of her petite neck, my eyes locked on hers—those beautiful blue eyes that always melted my heart. And I defied evil’s plot. “This curse of death has no authority over her, no right to claim her. In Christ’s name.”
Ray Anne’s lips narrowed tight while her eyes pooled again, feeling a mix of anger and sadness, it seemed. I released my hands and watched, astounded, as the black streak faded from her neck like evaporating smog. “Ray Anne, it’s gone!”
But just as quickly as it had dissolved, it came back, as dark and defined as before.
I threw my hands up, exasperated. “I don’t understand.”
She ran her fingers across her throat and winced. “I have that line, don’t I? It went away, then reappeared?”
“Not just a line,” I reluctantly admitted. “A curse, Ray Anne.” I swallowed hard. “A snake.”
I thought she’d freak out, but instead, she got completely quiet. Neither of us said anything for several minutes. Just sat motionless, our eyes forward, listening to the innocent rhythm of Jackson inhaling and exhaling. Until Ray Anne voiced a confession. “I never used to be afraid of what might happen to me or even of dying, if it came to that. But now that I have this child to care for—”
I knew where she was going with this, and I couldn’t sit back and allow her to make such a hopeless statement. “Dr. Bradford’s not going to get his hands on Jackson, and you’re not going to die, Ray Anne.” I turned in the driver’s seat and faced her. “Think about it. This scenario—it’s evil’s way of playing on our deepest, darkest fears to try to stop us in our assignment. It’s anxiety based on what’s happened in the past and dread about the future, as if the worst thing that could ever happen to us is going to. But it’s not, Ray. We can and we will overcome this. You believe that, right?”
The Defiance Page 10
