The last statement caused Gabriel and I to meet eyes. “Daywalkers.”
That didn’t sound good at all.
“Mr. Anderson,” Gabriel mimicked the movie’s actor perfectly. I stared at him and thought that he was getting way too into this movie. To the blonde boy, this movie was a classic, and since I’d never seen it, he was forcing me to watch it. Now. Tonight. After we had just found out that there were such things as Daywalkers.
My mind was still reeling from that conversation with Raphael. Every time he answered one of my questions, two more came into my head. What were their origins? If they were more powerful than Nightwalkers, why weren’t there more of them? And, perhaps the biggest question in my opinion: why didn’t Michael or Koath tell us about these before?
Maybe they thought they were protecting us. But how I see it, they put us in danger. Sometimes the danger of not knowing was worse than the danger of knowing. If I would have come across a Daywalker while patrolling, I wouldn’t have even known, which would’ve been a very bad thing.
“So,” Gabriel nudged me with his elbow and handed me the bowl of popcorn, saying, “how is the movie so far? Awesome in every way?”
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled, because truthfully I didn’t think it was that great of a movie, and certainly not good enough to be called a classic. “And also highly unrealistic.” And, knowing Gabriel, that sentence probably will get him going on a monologue about how fantastic he thought this movie was.
He reacted instantly by throwing some popcorn in my face, causing Michael, who was sitting in his own chair by the window, to give him a come-on-are-you-five-years-old? look.
“What?” he exclaimed, shock evident in his voice. “The whole point is you wouldn‘t know if it was real or not, because the machines of the future have programmed our reality so well that we don’t question it.”
Looked like I was right, not that I thought I wouldn’t be. He kept going with his speech, and I rolled my eyes in response. Sometimes I thought that he had these speeches preplanned, because I didn’t see how one person could have this much ranting ready at hand, at all times. I mean, you could say that the Cavemen show on ABC was stupid, but then Gabriel would come right along, as if on cue, and say that you should really be more open-minded and give new shows a chance.
But, since the majority of America didn’t give it a chance, I didn’t see why I should.
“I was talking about the fighting,” I said as I slapped his chest with the popcorn bucket. After a round of patrolling the nightly hangout (AKA the cemetery), all I wanted was to curl up and watch something happy, not something depressing about the possible future of man.
“If I didn’t know you two better, I’d say you were a squabbling married couple,” Michael’s eyes left the newspaper he was reading for a split-second, then returned to read more headlines of the missing boy.
Gabriel and I exchanged glances, ‘cause let me say, that wasn’t exactly the first time we’d heard that.
He threw an unpopped kernel towards Michael and asked, “Well, if we had a spectacularly themed wedding and were married…what would that make you?” Gabriel’s blonde eyebrows had risen to new heights.
A sigh escaped Michael as he responded, “A bloody monkey’s uncle.”
“Now that’s ridiculous for two reasons.” Gabriel paused and glanced at me before continuing, “One: that statement was just born from disaster. I mean, what does it mean? A monkey’s uncle?”
He put the term in air-quotations, and I rolled my eyes once again because I knew what was coming. The boy stopped in his rant against me only to pick one up with Michael. Why’d he have to talk so freaking much?
“Like, you’re the person to avoid at a party? ‘Oh, no. Let’s go into the other room, away from Michael. He’s a real monkey’s uncle if you know what I’m saying.’ Just, no. Two, assuming the saying is taken literally: in order for you to be an actual monkey’s uncle, your niece and or nephew would have to marry a real monkey, which I’m pretty sure is not legal in any of the fifty states, the Philippines, the District of Columbia, or any of those cute little islands we got floating down there by Florida.”
Michael pursed his lips and only gave Gabriel a stare of incredulousness.
“And three—” Gabriel continued right past his two reasons, not even seeming to notice. “—I am neither your niece nor nephew, and the same goes with Kass. Therefore us getting married would have no effect on your monkey’s uncle status. And four: why would you want to be a bloody monkey’s uncle? That’s weird and gross.”
Silence entered the room for the first time since the movie started, because no one knew quite how to respond to that. Gabriel had a way of doing that at any occasion, at any time. He was a miracle worker in that way, if awkward silence was what you wanted.
Why on earth did girls like him so much?
Friday.
Today was Friday.
I was not looking forward to today at all. And not because of my quiz in Calculus. No. Because tonight was the first home football game, and Michael wanted us to go mingle and make friends, blend in. But, oddly enough, that wasn’t why we were going. Well, in all actuality Gabriel probably would have gone no matter what. Girls and all that crap. My reason was Raphael. He was forcing me to go too, because the good man wanted us to be bait.
Bait for what, you ask?
Nightwalkers. But not just any Nightwalkers, mind you—the group that killed the family and that little boy whose body was still missing. Yeah, that group. When I get my hands on those particular Nightwalkers…
Let’s just say the thoughts I was thinking at that moment weren’t fit for a servant of God. At all.
I walked down the stairs, not wanting to go to school or anywhere that didn’t involve crawling back to bed, surprised to see that Gabriel was sitting on a barstool, looking down into his cereal. I was surprised because, on a normal morning, he was in the bathroom fixing his hair or something as equally vain at this time.
As I poured myself a bowl, Gabriel spoke, “I had the strangest dream last night.”
“Yeah?” I asked while reaching in the fridge for the milk. Cereal was no good without milk, and anyone who thought otherwise was clearly Demon in disguise.
“Uh-huh. There were lots of little unicorns frolicking throughout a field of daffodils, and tons of pegasuses…pegasi…pega…many a winged horse flying in the purple sky.” Gabriel waved his hand through the air, as if either reliving it or painting the picture in the space before him.
“That is weird.” I picked up my bowl and headed out of the kitchen to watch TV in the living room. It was my morning routine, and it was something that would stop only when I was dead. Me and my rituals? We were thisclose.
However, before I had totally left the room, he said quickly, “Which part? The unicorn part, the flying horses part, or the part where we were making mad, sweet love between them?”
Gabriel was completely serious, and it kind of freaked me out. That was not an image I needed to see in my mind, ever. But, I still decided to play his game anyway. “No…the weird part is that I had that dream last night too, minus the mythical horses.”
I walked out of the room with a grin on my face, leaving Gabriel confused and asking “Really?”
Idiot.
Mr. Straum walked through the class, eyeing every pair’s marble shooter as if he was judging some kind of county fair contest. Thank God he wasn’t, because as turned out, I wasn’t too good at making things. Purifying evil was easy-peasy, but making something out of a block of wood, a screw, a bolt, and this weird metal thingy was asking way too much of me.
Luckily for me, I had John as my partner and he knew how to make pretty much anything. That said, he was having a hard time paying attention, I’ll admit, with all the flirting he was trying to do with me.
I will say this: I did not not flirt back with him. Though I shouldn’t have, it was kind of fun. Couldn’t lie.
“John, I suggest that, if you and
your partner want to finish this project on time, you start working on your marble shooter and not your love lives. Do that on your own time,” Mr. Straum added the last part as an afterthought while walking away.
“Will do, Chief.” John winked while using some kind of power tool to screw in the giant metal thingy to the wood. I was completely clueless, and everyone knew it.
I laughed and asked, “Why’d you call him Chief?”
John put a marble in the shooter and tested out the waters. The marble landed a few feet from us. Not stunningly overwhelming results. “Shit.” He retrieved the marble and looked me in the eye. “Why not? He is the leader of our Physics class.” The bell rang, permanently cutting the time John had to fix the shooter short.
Yeah. Notice how I said John there? I said it because I certainly wasn’t going to help. If I did, I’d screw it up more. Instead of landing three feet from us, the marble would land about three centimeters. Was I exaggerating? You be the judge.
“Damn. Okay. That sucks.” John picked up his books and walked next to me, saying, “I’m sure Mr. Straum’ll give us some time on Monday to fix it up before we get tested for a grade.”
“Thank goodness, now I won’t have to worry about it all weekend,” I pretended to be concerned, but my sarcasm seeped into the sentence anyway. Oops. I steered away from his side and began opening my locker, trying to find the correct numbers amongst all those tiny ones.
My mind had traveled to another place, so it took me a few moments to notice that John was standing close, leaning against the locker next to mine. I had to stop myself from telling him to get the hell out of my light before I did something he’d regret.
One of those silly habits of mine, you see. Threatening anyone was not acceptable. In most cases. But I held my right to say and do anything when in the thick of a fight with a Nightwalker, because if they got to growl and snarl all ugly-like at me, I deserved the same rights.
Other than the whole growling and snarling part.
“You going to the football game tonight?”
“Yes,” I said with a feigned sense of excitement.
“You got a curfew?” was his next question.
At that I almost laughed. A curfew? Me? Yeah, the day I get a curfew would be the day the world went to hell. Seriously. In spite of those thoughts, I found myself shaking my head yes, figuring that John didn’t need to know the details of my irregularly dangerous life.
“Then I’m going to have to change my plans for us,” John spoke with a handsome grin lighting up his dark features, “we can grab a bite to eat before the game.”
I couldn’t believe it. I really, truly couldn’t believe it. John was asking me out…I think. His question sounded like a statement, but I was nearly positive that was what just happened. Silly me thought that telling him I had a curfew would have led him to the fact that I couldn’t do anything with him.
For a moment a ray of light shot through my brain, letting me think that maybe I wouldn’t end up dying alone. Maybe I could date, have a normal part of my life. Unfortunately, that same ray disappeared as soon as I realized that I had to do something with Michael after school today, which meant that I couldn’t go eat food with John even if I wanted to.
And I kind of wanted to in a weird, hormonal, teenage girl way. This school was definitely playing with my mind, wasn’t it? I never would have thought that before, because it was something that could never happen. A Purifier and a civilian? Hell no.
So, I did the only thing I could: I turned him down as politely as I could, saying I had a previous engagement. That was enough of an indication, right?
Keeping the knee-shaking grin on his face, John inquired, “Saturday, then?” Still the hopeful boy.
After the second attempt, I lost it. I lost what small semblance of normalcy that I had. I told him I was going out of town to visit my Aunt Celia.
By the way, I didn’t have an Aunt Celia, just so you know. I lied. Bad, bad me.
He shrugged, saying, “Maybe later.”
But the fact of the matter was that later was never going to happen. I had a job to do, and I couldn’t let a boy distract me. The fate of the world rested on my shoulders.
Okay, you caught me. That last statement wasn’t true. I just wanted to sound dramatic.
And, other than the whole lying part, I thought I pulled off rejection pretty well.
Chapter Ten – John
I didn’t know what I was doing, following her to her locker like a lost puppy. No matter how many times I yelled at myself for planning to ask her out, I didn’t care. I wanted to spend some out of school time with her, and the football game seemed like a good first date. That’s what I thought.
But she turned me down. Not once, but twice.
Why was she doing this to me? Why did she turn me down every, single time? Goddamn it. Why? I had asked her out Friday after she said she had a curfew. I said we could get something to eat before the game, which she was going to. But the girl said no. She already promised her dad to help him unpack the rest of the boxes. That I believed. Well, I believed it more than I believed her excuse for saying no on Saturday.
I sure as hell didn’t believe her when she said that she couldn’t do anything Saturday because she had to visit some aunt of hers. Aunt Celia? Come on. What kind of a fake name is that? I know. It’s a fake name that people who don’t normally lie make up when they refuse a guy they obviously have an attraction to.
Okay, it was a real name, passed spell check and everything. But I was pissed, and my mind was ranting. I knew she was just making excuses on that one. But why? That was the question that rang through my head as I walked to my locker like a forlorn little boy.
Which was kind of how I was feeling, like I didn’t have a home. Like my parents had just died and I was all alone. Like the girl I wanted more than anything had just turned me down multiple times.
If she only knew how crazy she drove me. I wondered if knowing would change anything, if it would switch her answers from no to yes. Maybe it would, or maybe it would just freak her out and make her avoid me like the plague. At least, I imagined people avoided the plague when it was plaguing the earth.
I knew I’d only known her for three days. Three days. That was all it’s been. But it felt like so much longer. Why? I have no damn idea. I couldn’t say. All I knew was that I couldn’t last much longer without my fix of Kass.
That sounded creepier than I thought it would.
My fingers reached up to my locker. I started to turn it, going for the right numbers instinctively. It was difficult concentrating when all I wanted to do was talk to Kass and ask her why she lied to me to get out of a date.
No one turned me down. No one. I was practically the most wanted guy in school. Girls were usually the ones who asked me out, since I never noticed half of them. She should have known that by now, since she’s been here for a few days. But, as much as I dissected it, it didn’t change the fact that she turned me down.
She turned me down.
Two times.
I couldn’t get over it. It was a first for me.
Instead of giving up like a pathetic boy, I would persevere. My determination to get Kass was set in stone, even though keeping from her was what was best for the both of us. I would sooner walk in front of a bus than give up on Kass. Although, if I walked in front of a bus, I might have to give up on her anyways, so that was a shitty comparison.
All I cared about was her, and I would get her eventually. Mark my words.
I will get her.
Chapter Eleven – Kass
Raphael paced the church, clutching a book. A few small beads of sweat rolled down his fair face, and he wiped them with his long sleeve. He acted worried, perturbed. And as I watched him move back and forth, walking just like Mr. Straum did on a daily basis, with no intent of stopping anytime soon, I realized if he was worried, this was bad.
I hated Michael and Gabriel for leaving me here with him while they went shopping
for some school-oriented clothes. Really. I did. No playfully exaggerated tone there.
“I know we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms since we met.” Raphael sat on the pew, next to me. “But I need you to understand how important tonight is. We need to catch the Demons responsible for the murder of that family.”
I crossed my arms, not liking where this was going. I thought Gabriel and I were going to be working as a team tonight, but nope. I was going to be alone again. I was going to be the bait. Not too happy about that, just in case you were having trouble detecting it.
Hoping to overlook the overall closeness of the attractive guy in priest’s clothing, I tore my gaze from him and muttered, “The Nightwalkers, I know. I have to bait them, act like an outsider. They’re drawn to that. I still don’t like this plan, though. How do we know they’ll be there and not somewhere else?”
Raphael sighed, abruptly standing. “This town is not huge. There are only so many places that would garner a Demon’s attention on a Friday night. I know that you do not want to do this, but that doesn’t change the fact that you must do your duty.” His green eyes demanded that my gaze return to his. I had no choice but to stare deep into his unrelenting stare.
“I know that! It’s just—”
He cut me off and opened the book that had to be centuries old. Handing it to me, Raphael stated, “Look at it, Kassandra. Look hard.”
I looked and looked. For all my looking, the only thing I saw was a picture of some kind of Demon along with a bunch of gibberish. It was gibberish because I didn’t speak freaking ancient Egyptian. Who did these days, other than Raphael?
Deciding to be a fish and bite the hook Raphael threw me, I asked, “What is it?”
“This—” He pointed harshly to the picture. “—is what Michael found when he researched the missing boy and the circumstances of the death of his family. The boy is a ten year old, part of a summoning ritual written about in this text. That boy is dead, Kass, and if we do not stop these Demons, his death will be for nothing. If these Demons get the other ingredients they need, the whole town, perhaps even the whole state, will be destroyed.” After letting his solemn words sink in, he added, “Do you know what this is?”
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