I was far from New Orleans, though. I think Statesboro is somewhere in Georgia.
The waitress set my food on the table and set out a place across from me for my “boyfriend.” As she strolled back to the counter, Adriel walked in. The bell above the door chimed.
The waitress jumped. “Oh, my, I’m sorry, hon. The wind must have blown the door open.”
Adriel sat down across from me. He passed me a paper bag. I peered inside. Rolls of bills were at the bottom.
I raised an eyebrow and moved the bag onto the seat next to me.
I made sure the waitress was gone before I asked, “Where did you get all this money?”
“Never mind that. It should be enough to get you food and a bus ticket.”
“You’re not coming with me?” I asked.
“I am. But I don’t have my bike. It’s better if I follow you from above.”
“I got you breakfast.” I gestured to the plate in front of him. “You can take it to go, so the waitress doesn’t freak out when she sees food float up in the air and disappear into nothing.”
“I don’t eat.”
I narrowed my eyes for a moment. Oh, that’s right. He’d said so back when we first met. Whoa. Was that almost a year ago?
I shrugged. “Yeah, you told me. I thought you were joking.” I guess that made sense. Angels couldn’t die. Why would they need to eat?
“If I could eat,” said Adriel, “I wouldn’t eat the carcass of another sentient being.” He eyed the meat like it was road-kill.
I swallowed the sausage I was chewing, and ate the eggs instead.
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“You should stay here for a while,” he said.
“You’re not staying.”
“I’ll be watching.”
“That’s creepy,” I said. “No one else can see you. You could stay with me.”
He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Well, watching from a distance is weird.”
“I’m a guardian, that’s what I do.”
I pushed my plate away, and folded my arms on the table. “Why did they think that I needed a Seraphim to guard me? I mean, you defend the throne of God.”
“You mean Seraph.”
“Huh?”
“I’m of the Seraphim. I am a Seraph.”
“Sorry. Why would I need a Seraph to guard me?”
“I volunteered.”
“You didn’t even know me.”
“I wanted to find out what happened to Sydriel.”
“What did you find?”
“I found angel blood in the house where you used to live.”
“Angel blood?”
“That’s right. A lot. Whatever happened to Sydriel, she was badly injured, and whoever hurt her had access to Arcadian Steel.”
“An angel.”
“Or a demon.”
The waitress came back to the table and refilled my orange juice. She glanced at my plate. “Not liking it, hon? I can get ya something else.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “I’m not feeling too well. You can take it back.”
The waitress eyed me, but she took my plate.
“You can take that one too,” I said. I looked across the table at Adriel. “He’s not coming.”
She grabbed that plate too. “You need me to call someone, hon?”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I’d been in Sheol for ten months. My phone long since died. I didn’t have any service anyway. No one to pay the bill.
“Yeah,” I said. “Is there a phone I could borrow?” I asked. “I’ll pay. Mine died, and I need to make a call.”
“Sure.” The waitress reached into her skirt pocket and handed me a smartphone with a cracked screen. She walked away from the table and wiped down the counters. She glanced over at me every few seconds.
I dialed Jonah’s number. The phone rang for so long, I thought he wouldn’t pick up, but his groggy voice was on the other line. “Hello?”
“Uncle Jonah?”
“Li? Where are you?”
“Are you going to call family services on me?”
“No.”
“I’m at a diner.”
“Where? I’ll come pick you up.”
“It’s far,” I said. “I’ll come to you, but only if you promise not to involve the caseworker.”
Silence leaked from the other end of the line.
“Uncle Jonah?”
“Alright,” he stuttered. “I just want you home, Li. I need to know you’re safe. I’m staying in Mid-City. Renting a place on North Rampart.”
I bought a bus ticket to New Orleans. My head lulled against the glass, and I slept for most of the way.
A full night’s sleep was difficult to come by in Sheol. It was too quiet. At least, I had the hum of the bus to still me to sleep.
I awoke still tired. I had a lot of catching up to do.
When I got off the bus, I walked to North Rampart Street. I wandered down the narrow street of raised houses without front lawns or driveways. Houses were painted bright orange, neon pink, and other colors that would be more suitable at an abstract art museum than on a residential street.
Cars were packed along the sides of the street, making the street narrower. I couldn’t imagine driving down it, squeezing my way, just barely scraping double-parked cars along the cracked, shaded street.
I glanced down at the address I had written on the palm of my hand. This was the place. I turned the handle of the barred door and knocked.
Coughing and shuffling came from inside. Jonah opened the door. Dark circles surrounded his blood-shot eyes.
“Come in. These streets aren’t safe at night.” He wore a ruffled t-shirt and a pair of striped pajama pants.
I stepped inside. A galley kitchen was to my left. To my right was a short hallway with two doors and behind the kitchen was a small table with two chairs. The living room was bare except for a small television against one wall.
I put Sim on the floor, and she explored the apartment.
Jonah ambled into the kitchen. “Go ahead and drop your stuff anywhere.” He poured coffee into a mug. “Do you want anything? Water, tea? I have orange juice.”
“I’ll take coffee,” I said.
Jonah squinted. “But you don’t like coffee.”
“I didn’t know you knew that about me.”
“I think it’s kind of a crime here to not like it.”
“It’s starting to grow on me. That bus ride was killer.”
Jonah poured a second cup and brought both to the table. I sat across from him and sipped the coffee, lukewarm and bitter, but I didn’t care. I was tired and too on edge to sleep.
Uncle Jonah’s knee bobbed up and down which caused his whole body to tremble. He gulped his coffee like someone might snatch it away from him. His hand shook as he brought it back down to the table.
“This is a small place,” I said.
“Just moved,” said Jonah. “Couldn’t afford the rent at the old place.”
“Why aren’t you staying at Mom and Dad’s?” I asked.
“They left everything to you, Li. The house, the paintings, your mom’s trust account.”
“Uncle Jonah, I need that money.”
“You can’t get it. Not until you’re eighteen.”
“I won’t need it when I’m eighteen. By then, I’ll have a job and my own apartment. I need that money now.”
Jonah sighed. “You’re idealistic. Your dad did that to you. Micah made you believe anything is possible. But the world’s not like that. It knocks you on your ass, a lot, and not everybody can be whatever they want to be. You don’t always get what you want.”
He was right. What I wanted was for my parents to be alive. I wanted to be safe and warm at home.
Instead, I was on the run.
“Why are you shaking like that?” I asked.
“Withdrawals. It’s better now,” he said. “I joined a group. I think it’s r
eally helping this time.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“It will be, once it’s over.”
I smiled. He was trying. That’s what Dad would have wanted.
“Can I stay here?” I asked.
“Where were you staying?”
“Please,” I said.
Jonah’s eyes swept up to the ceiling. “I could get in a lot of trouble for this. But I don’t want you sleeping under some bridge. You can stay as long as you need to.”
TWENTY ONE
I pet Sim and poured food into her bowl. I found a job, waitressing at a local café. College students came for coffee and lunch. I would have started my junior year in high school, and looking for the right college would have been the most important thing to me.
A month and half passed since I left Sheol, and no sign of angels wanting to take my head off or put me in chains. I felt normal. I liked normal.
A few colleges existed in the area. Each with its own music department. I had taken the bus to a few of the colleges and looked around.
I’d love to major in music. I didn’t know if I could pick electric guitar as my instrument.
An amp sat in one of the music rooms. I got into the habit of bringing my guitar and hooking it up. I played long into the evening and didn’t get back to Jonah’s apartment until night.
He was never there. Between work and his group meetings, the only time I saw him was around noon if I wasn’t working. That was right before he would shuffle into his bedroom to sleep. I was glad he was getting help. Dad would be proud.
Sometimes when I was on the bus or walking to work, I saw Adriel out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was creepy that he was always watching, but it gave me a sense of comfort too. I knew that if anything happened, he would rush in to help.
The music building was pretty much empty for the night. I should probably get back to the apartment before it got too late, but it felt good to get carried away with my guitar.
That night, I played like no one could hear me. I tried more complex songs and wasn’t afraid to put my body into it as I slid across the floor and jumped around like I was performing a rock concert.
“You’re really good.”
I stopped, and the sound of my guitar echoed and faded.
A guy with curly, brown hair smiled at me. He wore a t-shirt and jeans. A backpack hung from one shoulder. He was a good-looking guy, and he didn’t look that much older than me.
“Thank you,” I said. “I was just messing around.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I left my notes.” He plucked a notebook from one of the aluminum folding chairs. He saluted me as a way of goodbye.
“Wait,” I said. “You’re a music major? What instrument do you play?”
What was I doing? I didn’t need the distraction. I knew I would never see Nash again, but I was still thinking about him. I needed to get over him, but tossing a new guy into the mix wasn’t the best way to do that.
“The drums,” he said. “My dad used to play at Fritzels. Jazz.”
“You play Jazz?”
“Yep. Since I was a kid. You practice here a lot?”
“Just about every night. I’m Lia by the way.”
“Carson. Well, I’ll see you around, Lia.” He grinned and turned on his heel.
After he left, I packed up my guitar and walked to the bus stop. An old woman sat on the bench. Her hair was covered by a shawl tied beneath her chin. She coughed a loud hacking cough.
I stood at the opposite end of the bench. The woman continued to cough, and I thought about asking her if she was okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to pierce the silence between the coughs. I glanced over at her, and my skin crawled.
She looked up at me, and for a moment the Veil was lifted. Her skin was cracked and bleeding. Her eyes were black, no pupils, no whites, but one solid color.
A demon.
I reached for my sword reflexively, and, in the same moment, realized the blade wasn’t at my side. The woman continued to stare at me as I backed away. The air became thin and still. The sky seemed darker than seconds before. My breath spiked. I turned and ran from the bus stop.
I ran for five blocks and reached the next stop. No one else waited for the bus. My body shook, and I couldn’t bear to sit. As soon as the bus pulled up to the curb, I was on it.
When I got home, I locked the deadbolt. Jonah was at work, and the apartment was quiet. I spotted Sim on the couch, and relief settled upon me like a warm blanket. Petting Sim always put me at ease.
I placed my guitar case against the wall and plopped down on the couch. Jonah bought the couch a few days ago. He was doing well with his meetings and his new job. He still suffered from withdrawals, but he seemed less jittery in the mornings.
The couch was my new bed. Jonah offered me his room, but I said I didn’t mind the couch. I woke up every morning with a stiff back, but it didn’t bother me that much. I was searching for something different than Sheol to prove to myself that I hadn’t become accustomed to the comforts of the Outer Region.
I stretched out on the couch. My feet barely reached the opposite end. I kicked my shoes off and removed my socks with my toes.
The air from the vent against the wall left a chill on my skin, but when the sound of its humming ceased, dread wrapped its fingers around my throat. The image of the woman at the bus stop burned behind my eyes. I grabbed the remote and turned on the small television, a beacon of light in the cold, dark room.
I wished I hadn’t left my sword, not because I wanted to hunt the monsters but in case they attacked me. What if I saw one in Jonah’s apartment?
I turned to face the plush back of the couch and closed my eyes. I didn’t need the images on the screen. The gentle lull of the voices was enough to let sleep take me.
THE clasps of my guitar case were cool against my fingertips. The case popped open with a satisfying squeal of the hinges. I lifted my guitar out of its velvet casket. It came to life again every time I played it.
“Hey.” Carson dropped his backpack to the floor. Two drumsticks bound together in his fist.
“Hey.” I parroted back. I wanted to choke the silence. “Trying to get some practice in?”
“Thought it might be fun if we played together.” He grinned. He sat on the stool behind the drum set in the corner of the room.
“I don’t know Jazz,” I said.
“You don’t need to,” he said. “I can play anything.”
I squinted my eyes. “Okay,” I said. The words pulled out of my lips.
“You start. I’ll follow the melody.”
I plugged my guitar into the amp and played the first cords of “Come As You Are.” My heart beat with the drums as Carson tapped in harmony. Each third note rang out like breaking water. The clear, sharp noise mesmerized my eardrums.
Together we weren’t perfection, but something else: potential.
The last note of my guitar faded into rippling silence. We played three more songs after that and met again the night after to play more.
Soon, we played every night. I even learned some Jazz. For two nights now, Carson walked with me to the bus stop. We talked about music mostly. The occasional mention of the latest movie or internet meme felt surreal to me. Normal stuff. I had to remind myself of that. Especially when I saw them.
Sometimes they walked down the street or lurked in the corners. When I tried not to look, a stray glance froze the blood in my veins. They watched me. They knew I could see them. That’s why they showed themselves to me—black eyes, skin touched by embers, clawed hands, and cruel smiles. They got joy from scaring me.
I celebrated my seventeenth birthday with Sim. I ordered a pizza and bought a cupcake from the café where I worked.
I still missed Nash and the others, but knowing that they weren’t risking their lives against warrior angels made me feel better.
“Can I take you out sometime?” Carson asked.
“Yeah, that would be great
,” I said. “Where did you have in mind?”
“There’s this Italian place in town. The decor isn’t spectacular, but the food is great.”
“Okay,” I said.
“We can go after this if you want.”
I glanced down at what I wore. A black t-shirt and jeans. I was uncomfortable going to dinner without wearing long, beautiful dresses, but I wasn’t in Sheol anymore. Regular teenagers went to dinner at places where you could wear jeans.
We took Carson’s sedan to the restaurant. The front of the building was glass with white paper blocking the view of the outside, which was a busy street surrounded by other businesses.
I was so used to Nash’s cooking and the nice restaurants that he took me to that I felt like the food was less than remarkable. The pasta was more like Chef Boyardee than fine Italian cuisine. Still, it was nice to feel normal for once and to be on a date with a normal, human guy.
Carson brought me on a few more dates, and I still met with him to play guitar and drums. He was a nice guy. He wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become a professional drummer.
I didn’t tell him that I was on the run from the foster care system and a militant army of angels. Instead, I told him that I lived in a small parish outside New Orleans and that I wanted a fresh start so I moved out here.
I smiled as I walked home from work. For the first time in months, I was happy. I had Carson, and a job. I thought about catching up on school, but hadn’t figured out a way to do that without putting family services on my trail.
A mother and her daughter walked ahead of me. An old man with a cane stood at the street corner as he waited for a car to pass. His cane wobbled, and the old man knelt to the ground. He was on his hands and knees in the street.
The young mother gestured for her daughter to stay on the sidewalk as she rushed over to the old man and helped him up from the street. The man smiled. He thanked her and continued down the cross walk.
If Raphael got what he wanted, that mother and her child will never have a chance to enter Heaven. The gates will be closed to them.
And Mom and Dad, would they be tossed out? I clenched my locket in my hands.
The Wings of Heaven and Hell (The Arcadian Steel Sequence Book 1) Page 23
