“You didn't,” he whispers. “It's just that I know Jill, and she wouldn't do that. We've been dating a long time. She loves me.”
I can't hold the question back. I want to know. For some reason, I have to know. “Do you love her?”
“Sure,” he says, flicking of particle of lint from the couch. He doesn't meet my gaze. But his words make my chest ache. I pull back. He's wrong to love her. She doesn't love him. I do.
“Ahh!” I scream, jumping back. I can't believe I just thought that! What a terrible thing to cross my mind. It's not true. I do not love him. He's the last person I'd love. I pace the room, rubbing my head, thinking, thinking, thinking. Did I say it out loud? No. I don't think so. Oh, please. I hope not.
“What's wrong?” he asks, sitting up straight, his gaze piercing me.
“Uh... uh.” Nothing intelligent comes out of my mouth. What can I say? I hardly know him. I don't even like him. I care about him, of course, but only because he is my charge. I have to. It's a requirement, I think.
“Alisa, tell me.” His whisper is barely loud enough to hear.
“I can't talk about this.”
“Why?” he asks, standing up. We face each other, almost nose to nose.
I feel his aura radiating around me. Its static warmth pulsing through me like a soft breeze. For the first time, I reach out and stroke his cheek, standing closer than I normally would have ever dared.
With a sharp inhalation, his eyes widen at my touch. He reaches up, placing his hand over mine, his mouth opening in a surprised “O.”
“Brecken, please believe me. I'm telling you the truth. I would never lie to you. I... uh.”
“I know,” he says, a soft smile forming on his lips. “I get it.”
He does? I don't. But standing this close to him, I wish I did. In that moment I want a real body so bad, to really feel his hand on mine, to feel the pressure of him next to me, to feel his lips—.
I pull away suddenly, astonished at the path my thoughts have taken. He reaches out quickly to slip his arm around my waist, to pull me back, but it goes right through me as I float out of his grasp. I move back, one step at a time, my mind racing. This isn't right. A guardian cannot fall for her charge. It is wrong, wrong, wrong, and I'm sure to get in trouble as soon as Raphael finds out.
Will he pull me from my job? Will I be punished? Strangely, I want to be Brecken's guardian now. More than anything. I can't imagine not seeing him ever again. But am I such a silly girl that I can develop a crush on a boy so quickly?
I step back again and Brecken steps forward.
“What are you doing?” I hear through the fog of my mind. I look up at the same time as Brecken to see Heidi and Sophie standing next to the table, an empty yogurt cup in Sophie's hand. The two of them stare, wide-eyed. He glances at me, then down at his outstretched arms. He lets them fall to his sides and then turns to his sisters with a chuckle. “Uh, there's this play at school that, um, I'm trying out for.”
“A play.” Heidi cocks her hip, a knowing look on her face. “You're trying out for a play.”
“I am,” he states. “You don't know everything about me.”
“I know enough to know you've never even seen a play at school, let alone ever tried out for one.” She smirks and shakes her head. “You really do need meds.” Her laughter follows her to her room. She slams the door behind her.
Brecken's expression hardens at her remark.
Sophie stares up at him from behind the couch that separates the kitchen from the living room. “I think it's cool. I'd come see you.”
“Thanks, Sof,” he says, sinking back down on the couch. He pats the spot next to him and looks up at me.
Is he insane? “I can't.”
“Why not?” he mouths.
Good question. Why not? It's not like we can do anything. With a sigh, and against my better judgment, I sit beside him. He rests his arm on the back cushion, almost around my shoulders. I shiver and turn to him, our faces inches apart.
Brecken glances over his shoulder at Sophie.
She watches him closely.
“I'm going to practice the kiss that's in the play. You tell me if it looks real,” he says to her.
“Umm. Okay.”
“What!” I screech, leaning back.
He leans forward, a playful glint in his eyes. I lean back more. He inches closer. I recline against the arm cushion until I'm almost flat on the couch. He chuckles and gives me a lazy half-smile. Is he really going to do this? Should I let him? I kind of want to.
The world stands still. There is nothing but us. No TV. No little sisters. No disruptions. The warmth of his breath mists on my face, smelling of something sweet I can't place, and his aura surrounds us, encasing me in light. He stares into my eyes, his face suddenly very serious. I don't move or push away.
I close my eyes just as his lips brush past mine, like a soft feather tickling my mouth. A tingling thrills through me, and I want him to keep kissing me, to press closer. But that feeling won't come, that hard, physical pressure of a body, holding another physical body. I ache with a need I can't explain.
His eyes widen and he leans back, a look of surprise on his face. “Alisa,” he whispers breathlessly.
“Wow. That looks real to me,” Sophie says, jumping down from her chair. “You'll do well in that play.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
~Evil on Another Level~
Alisa
This is bad. Very, very bad. I have to make it stop. But to make it stop, I have to quit thinking about his incredibly blue eyes, his wide, muscular shoulders, the beauty and passion of his spirit, which has totally taken me by surprise.
I run without thinking.
Once I stop, I search my surroundings. Nothing looks familiar. I'm not in my old neighborhood, nor am I anywhere near Brecken's house. But something has drawn me here. That's how it works.
I stand in front of an old, run-down house. Its haunted, dark windows and warped gables eying me like an intruder, glaring, demanding I leave at once. A chill slithers down my back. Yellow-brown paint peels from the wood siding, and the worn front porch sags from years of use.
Something pounds inside me. Heart-thumping fear. It slithers over and around me like a deadly Black Mamba. I want to leave, but there is something in that house I need to see. I know it as well as I know my own name.
Tentatively, I enter the house and find myself in a dirty, garbage-filled living room. Old hamburger wrappers and used pizza boxes lay scattered on the stained carpet. Unnerving quiet follows me like a ghost as I head deeper inside, toward the kitchen. My eyes pierce the darkness, drawn to an open door with stairs that lead down into a basement.
Another freakin' basement.
I stop on the stairs, wary, yet wanting to get this over with. As I move down, I hear voices, muffled by a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. Automatically I tiptoe, trying to be quiet even though no one can hear me.
Stepping through the closed door, my eyes grow wide, and I'm ready to bolt. A large group of people sit on the floor on blankets and throw pillows. Candles glow around the perimeter of the room, creating deep shadows. The tang of lamp oil as well as sweet perfumes drift toward me.
Someone must have drawn me here, so I search each face, each expression, recognizing no one until I came to the dark, heavily lashed eyes that matched my own, as if he were my twin. Derek?
He reclines on a red velvet pillow, a brunette-haired girl beside him, stoking his cheek. A dark bottle dangles between his fingers, from which he takes a swig every few seconds.
My heart, figuratively speaking, flips at the sight of him, but that ache is quickly replaced by anger, per normal. I stomp straight toward him, my hands clenched and my teeth grinding. “Derek. What are you doing here?”
He doesn't answer and doesn't acknowledge that some invisible force is raining fire and brimstone down on him. He never used to drink. He spent most of his time at the school track, training for the cross-coun
try team. He's always gotten good grades and is a straight A student. He has a girlfriend, but it isn't this floozy who has draped herself all over him.
Disappointed, I can't even think straight. “Get up!” I demand, standing behind him, and trying to lift him to a standing position. He doesn't budge. It's not until I turn around that I get my next heart-stopping shocker.
Jill.
She sits on the other side of the room, intertwined in the arms of some guy, her vampire fangs twinkling bright in the candlelight. Dread spreads through me, its dark claws pulling me down, down, down. Feelings, similar to the ones I felt in Soul Prison, wash through me, and I nearly sink to my knees in despair.
I didn't even realize we all lived in the same city.
I stare, rooted to the cement floor, as Jill leans forward and sinks her fangs into the bicep of the guy she lies beside. He moans as the needles penetrate his skin, then wraps his legs around Jill and rolls her over so he is on top. That's when I notice he sports his own set of shiny, new fangs.
He bites into her skin, just below the collarbone.
The hot, acidic memory of vomit rises in my mouth. The response is automatic. I turn, horrified, to Derek. He watches Jill, his eyes wide, but not with a disgusted grimace, like I have.
More terrified, yet fascinated.
I have to get him out of here, and I have to do it now. “Derek. Please listen to me. You have to leave. This is dangerous. People could really die. Don't you get it? What if one of those fangs punctures an artery?” That has to happen once in a while. They aren't always careful, are they? “Derek. Get up!” I scream at the top of my voice.
Nothing works. He can’t hear me. He doesn't want to. I remember being told in Idir Shaol that guardians aren't able to influence everyone, that some people refuse to listen. People have to be open, their souls somewhat receptive.
Derek takes another swig from the bottle in his hand, then lies back and closes his eyes. I watch him, a smile flitting across his mouth. In sorrow, I turn away.
“Dude, wake up,” a boy sitting next to Derek says. “It's gonna start.”
“Huh?” Derek responds, sleepily.
A woman enters the room. Tall, regal, proud. She glides toward a table at the front of the room, her long black cape trailing behind, a cowl covering her head. She holds a tapered black candle in her slim fingers, and the only thing that shows of her shadowed face are her ruby-red lips, which glisten in the dim light.
All eyes turn to her. Including my own.
I watch her, riveted. Something about her captures me in a wonderful, yet terrible grip. Part of me wants to fall at her feet and beg for attention. Another part recoils with such revulsion that I desperately want to flee.
That is when I see it. A dark shadow clinging to her skirt like a cloudy sheath of silk. It slithers around her legs, its grasping hands holding onto her with parasitic strength. It glances up and catches my eye, the darkness of its gaze drowning me as though I've fallen into a deep, polluted cesspool.
I pull my gaze away, the awful smile of the shadow fiend still in my peripheral vision. Who is this woman? What is she doing here? And who is her sticky friend? The one thing I do know is that whoever she is, she's dangerous.
And evil.
“My children,” she says lovingly as she gazes at each member of the room. “It is right that you are here. I'm proud of you all. Especially our newest members.” She glances at Derek and smiles seductively.
My soul recoils just a bit more. The candles in the room flicker and the walls that surround us glow with dark heaviness. Grim foreboding drifts over me like tiny poison snowflakes, stinging my soul where they land. The longer I'm here, the worse I feel. I have to get out, but I can't leave my brother!
“When I first came here,” the woman says. “I worried we wouldn't find the numbers we required, but we have been rewarded by the diligence of our initiates in this city.” She smiles, grasping the edges of her cowl and sliding the hood back, letting it come to rest on her slender shoulders.
Long, white-blonde hair falls around her cheeks and her light blue eyes glisten with heat.
I can't look away, though I want to. She holds me spellbound just as she does the others in the room.
“Tonight we have two who graduate to the next level of ordination.”
She stretches her arm out to Jill, who steps forward. Jill kneels on a pillow at the woman's feet and bows her head. The woman takes Jill's hand.
“Rise,” she says to Jill. “This initiate has completed her requirements in the Order and will now become an Adept.” The woman reaches for a folded black cloth that lies on the table behind her. Holding it up, the cloth unfolds into a long, silky robe, identical to her red one. She places it over Jill's head and lets it fall around her shoulders.
With a slow sigh of satisfaction, the woman turns Jill to face the others. “Jill will complete her next assignment this coming week. Not only has she reached the level of Adept, but will also become the chief custodian of this chapter, being the first in this area to accomplish the tasks placed before her.”
Silence fills the room as everyone watches. My eyes burn, yet I can't take my gaze from her. Jill radiates confidence, her chin jutting out, her chest raised in pride. She searches the small congregation, catching each person's gaze and holding it.
That's when another ghostly being of wispy, gray smoke appears. It weaves a web around Jill's feet and gazes up at me with a smile that splits its faceless visage as it slithers up to her waist.
One by one, the people in the room rise and approach Jill to congratulate her, including my brother. He steps forward as a receiving line forms. When Derek arrives before her, Jill takes his hand, her fingers threading with his. “May the dark one grant your desires,” she whispers, her eyes riveted to Derek's.
He answers like everyone else has. “Likewise.”
I reach out one last time and place my hand on his arm. Derek's fear and uncertainty ooze into my mind, and something else... something that alarms me to my very core. He's angry. He wants to lash out, to hurt someone.
Me.
I let go in surprise. This isn't my Derek. He's not vindictive or a grudge-holder. Doesn't he understand what I went through? Can't he forgive me? He can't pin his bad choices on me. His being here isn't my fault.
Anger, like I haven't felt in a long time, well, for at least a few hours, erupts inside me. How dare he use my death to justify his joining this... this satanic fraternity! I take one last look, and leave.
CHAPTER FORTY
~Running Away, Again~
Alisa
I don't have anywhere to go, and I don't want to go all the way back to Idir Shaol. So instead of appearing in some strange place like Egypt—which is tempting—I decide to go back to Brecken.
The mere thought of being in his presence twists my mind into knots of anxiety. Our last moment together had been a kiss. He'd kissed me. And the ache that kiss creates in my heart... It all rushes back—the light, the heat, the wonderful magic.
And, heaven forbid, I want it to happen again.
Questions ramble around inside me. Why did he kiss me when he has a girlfriend? Does Raphael know? Will he send for me? Will I lose my post? It's not like I instigated it, but I didn't stop it either.
I like Brecken. Really like him. There is no way around it. I didn't plan this, but I don't want it to end yet either. Secretly, I wanted that kiss, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I have a job to do after all. This isn't just about life and death. This is about redemption and eternity... and a timeless existence in Soul Prison—surrounded by evil—if I don't succeed. And what will happen to Brecken? What is his destiny if I fail? I can't bear to think of it.
Brecken, when I find him, is in the process of grabbing his gym bag and running out the door. “Where're you going?” I ask as he runs past.
He stops abruptly and stares straight ahead. “Lacrosse practice.”
“You play lacrosse?”
&
nbsp; He turns, facing the direction of my voice. Sunshine spills through the window, casting long shafts of light across his face. I'm pretty sure he can't see me, but he faces me square on, only a foot away. “I used to. There a problem with that?”
His angelic-ness vanishes and his tone rocks me back on my heels. The force of his anger is like a physical blow. “No. I just never pegged you for a lacrosse player.”
“Really? And just what sport do you think I'd play? Or am I such a loser that all I'd do is sit around like a pothead all day?” He smirks and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
“Uh, well.” I can't think of a single sport I think he'd play. Not that he isn't athletic. He just portrays himself as the bad boy in a leave me alone kind of way. He doesn't scream sports. I follow him to his mom's car. He pulls out of the driveway, the tires shrieking.
“Why are you driving so fast? Are you trying to kill us?” I hate it when people let their anger determine their driving. My brother does that.
Brecken doesn't answer.
I watch the road, one hand on the dashboard, afraid we'll crash. Not that I'd get hurt, but he would. “Why are you so mad?” I still haven't figured it out and can't seem to get past his porcupine bristle.
With an audible sigh, he glances my way and then back to the windshield. “It's just... you took off. Again.”
The look of hurt on his face and the guilt of my constant running is beginning to haunt me. “Oh. I'm really sorry about that.”
“Was it that bad?”
“What?”
His lips tighten and he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “The kiss.”
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