by Nissa Leder
Something that pushed him right into the arms of Rachel, the gorgeous new girl full of mystery. And apparently his Counterpart.
The idea of them together makes me nauseous.
I snatch a pencil from a drawer and find my sketchpad under a bunch of loose papers. Like I’ve always done, I push the thoughts of betrayal away and let my hands get to work. I’m not even sure what I’m drawing until I’m halfway done.
The outline of a wilted rose, with withered petals falling from its stem, begins to form. I find my pack of colored pencils on the ground, likely knocked off the desk when I searched for the sketchpad.
Darien always teased me for being messy, swearing that I had to have a tornado as a pet or something. How else could my room be such a disaster? My rebuttal would be that if I knew where to find everything, it wasn’t actually a mess. He labeled me an organized calamity.
Thinking of him causes me to dig the lead into the paper.
Great, now I messed it up.
My phone dings, distracting me from my frustration. I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans. Claire’s name lights up the screen with a text.
Coming over soon?
As I open it up to reply, I consider telling her that I know the truth, but I don’t. I need to process it all, and right now would rather not talk to her at all. Instead, I lie, replying that I’m feeling a bit off and will just stay home and fall asleep early.
Seconds after I hit send, my phone screen goes black. I forgot to charge it last night, and with only half a battery this morning, it’s already dead. I might normally be disappointed, but not tonight. I’m glad no one else can reach me.
As I plug my phone into its charger by my half-made bed, rain patters against my window, its drops falling harder than usual. Seems fitting. My day deserves rain.
I could slip on my PJs, curl up under the covers, and find a show to binge, but a different idea takes hold. I grab my raincoat and pull it on over my clothes like I’ve done so many nights before.
Back then, I’d sneak out my window after Dad thought I was sleeping.
Today, I use the front door to walk down the street to give Darien one more chance to tell me the truth.
14
I collapse on the bed, completely void of any will to study for tomorrow’s oral French exam, and pull the quilts over me. Ordinarily, I’d stay awake as long as it took for me to accomplish whatever goal was on the horizon.
College scholarship? No worries.
Four-point-oh GPA? Nailing it.
Honors Diploma? Practically have it already.
But now?
Now, all I can think about, all I can see are the Lesser demons rising from the putrid fiery prison of hell, whispering dark suggestions, which turn to hurtful vices that weaken human spirits and open them up to chaos, death, and disease. And there’s no end in sight.
The Lessers are only one faction in the demonic order and are mainly the kind I’ll be dealing with. But there are others, according to Uriah, stronger demons who command whole armies training to bring literal Hell on earth. There are even those who walk in human form, rising in the corporate and political world to shape our society and culture.
I’ve been doing exactly what Uriah told me to do: going to school, going through the motions, making it to football practice, not attracting attention by being absent. But at night, instead of studying, Uriah takes me out to practice my Hellwalker skills.
Turns out, Gran was right all along. Now that I see what’s really out there, what’s really going on, somehow, football and French tests seem trivial.
There’s a light peck at my door. The hinges creak as it opens. I hear Gran’s soft footsteps against the hardwood. The bed dips where she sits on its edge. She pats my foot through the blankets.
“I know you’re still angry with me, dear,” she says. “And you have every right to your emotions, given the extreme changes you are dealing with right now. But please don’t shut me out.”
Guilt rushes up from the chest, dissolving my anger. I blow out a breath and push the covers back, twisting to a sitting position.
I rub my face and look at Gran. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes.
“Did I say something funny?”
I shake my head, taking her in. In almost 18 years, I’ve never seen a hair out of place in her classy upswept bun. Always soft-spoken with a kind word for everyone.
“It’s just hard to picture,” I finally say. “My Gran, baker of cookies and preparer of holiday meals. Drinker of tea and practitioner of essential oils. All this time, you’ve been hiding the fact that you’re a badass demon fighter in the Guardians of Elysium.”
Gran smiles. “That was a long time ago, ten years before you were even born,” she says. “When your mother was fifteen, I passed along my gift. She found Sean … your dad, and Thomas trained them and Uriah. I was more useful at home, creating a safe space, a refuge from all the evil.”
I think of my parents, just flickers of memories and photos displayed in frames. “I’m guessing they didn’t really die in a car accident.”
Gran sighs, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “That’s the official cause of death,” she says, “but Thomas always believed it was more than that. He investigated for a long time, he and Uriah, but they never got any closer to the truth than they had been from the start.”
She pats my knee, and I cover her hand with mine. Is this what I have to look forward to? A life of violence and demons? Will my own children be orphans? Will I leave my wife widowed and alone?
“It was your mother’s wish that we waited to bring you into this world,” Gran says. “She grew up knowing the darkness. She knew how it affected Uriah and Sean. She wanted you to experience all the goodness and love the world had to offer before being thrust into the shadows. As we watched you thrive academically and athletically, Thomas and I came to agree with her. “
It makes more sense now that I know what I’m facing. I can’t imagine squaring off against demons as a child—or even knowing the truth about them outside of scary stories or movies. Tuck had made me blind with anger yesterday, but I see now that he was right. I have had my head up my ass. The guilt is tearing at me now.
I wrap my arm around Gran. “You and Pops have given me a great life. Up until this point, I’ve been really happy. A lot of people can’t say that, I guess. It’s been hard, but I’ll figure it all out.”
Gran nods, kisses my cheek, and stands. “I never wanted this for myself or anyone else, but it is our legacy. If not us, then who?”
Her question hangs in the air unanswered long after she closes the door.
I fall back on the bed and rub my face. I’m sore from practice, drained from my training with Uriah, so tired I just want to barricade myself in my room and sleep for the next week. But I no longer have the luxury of taking sick days. Better catch a few hours of sleep and hope the answers to my French oral will be revealed to me in a dream.
I strip off my jeans and toss them on the floor. Just as I reach to turn off the lamp, there’s a tap at my window. The glass squeaks open.
Ava steps in and slips off her raincoat, just as she has so many times before. My heart thuds in my chest. Two weeks ago, having Ava in my room would have been the most normal thing in the world, but now, I’m painfully aware that we’re alone, there’s a bed, we’re no longer together, and she is as beautiful as ever.
“Hey,” I say, finally finding my voice.
“Hey,” she says.
I scramble to my feet, moving a pile of books and dirty clothes out of the chair at my desk so she can sit. I take a seat at the edge of the bed.
“You could’ve used the door,” I say. “Gran would’ve let you in.”
She smiles. “I know. Honestly, I could use a cup of her special chamomile, but I don’t know. Things would have been weird maybe. Anyway, I just needed to talk to you.”
I reach out and take her hand. “Ava, things are different between me and you now, but Gran wil
l always be happy to see you. So will I.”
Moisture builds in her eyes and she stands up, jerking her hand from mine.
“So what’s going on with you?” she asks. “I’ve barely seen you. It’s like you’ve been ghosting around the halls at school, and you disappear as soon as I see you.”
I wish I could tell her the truth. I want to. But I won’t bring her into my hidden world. Ava has been through enough with her mother and with our breakup. She’s tough. She can handle it. But I don’t know what kind of danger I’d be putting her in if she was aware of our world.
“I’ve just been crazy busy,” I lie. “Coach has been on my ass this week about Friday night, I’ve had coaches from Washington and Stanford leaving messages with Gran, I’ve had tests and—” I cut myself off before I get carried away. “It’s just a lot to juggle.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Ava says. “So there’s nothing else going on with you?” She waits for a couple of seconds, but I don’t answer. “Well, what about Rachel? I haven’t seen either of you around in a couple days.”
Rachel. I don’t even know what to say about Rachel. I think we’ve both been avoiding each other after that last awkward conversation. What do you say to someone you’re crazy about, someone you’re destined to spend your life with, who wants no part of that destiny? Are we even friends?
“I haven’t really talked to her in a while,” I say. Which is the absolute truth.
“Uh huh.”
“So what’s going on with you? I saw you with someone new the other day after school I think.”
She shrugs. “I doubt that’s going anywhere.”
I nod. Good. There was just something about that guy I hadn’t trusted. Something that sent off red neon lights flashing “Trouble.”
Ava comes toward me and sits next to me on the bed. My feelings for her have changed, but I’d have to be dead not to be affected by her closeness. My heart pounds.
“Darien, if there was something else going on, something more, you’d tell me, right? I mean, you wouldn’t bottle it all up inside, right? Despite what’s happened, we’ve been friends long enough that you would confide in me?”
Her eyes are wide with concern, her hair damp from the rain. I find myself wanting to forget. Wishing that everything I know now is just a bad dream. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up, get ready for school, and pick up Ava and Tuck. Ava will wear my letter jacket. We’ll hold hands in the hall. And later, after Gran and Pops have gone to bed, she’ll climb through my window, and then …
I lean in, kissing her, just as I have nearly every day for two years. At first, she hesitates, but then, she wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer. I angle my head to deepen the kiss, tasting the sweet mint of her favorite gum. My hands wind to the back of her head, my fingers twisting in her hair, pulling her closer.
As I’m getting lost in the kiss, ready to take it further, a face materializes behind my lids. Deep brown eyes, skin the color of honey, black hair with dark pink streaks. A sense of wrongness rushes over me. I shouldn’t be doing this.
I break away, lurching off the bed and into the corner of my room, as far as I can get from Ava. Oh, God. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I just kissed her like that after everything.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieks.
Ava is standing now, hands balled to fists at her sides, glaring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean —”
“To kiss me?” she hisses. “To practically pull me onto your lap? What exactly didn’t you mean to do?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. I can only stare at her, open-mouthed, deserving every ounce of her anger. Finally, she realizes there’s nothing I can say.
“You know what, Darien? When Claire called you an asshole the other day, I defended you. But maybe she was right. I know you’re keeping something from me. You’re all keeping something from me, and I deserve better.”
Her words wash over me like icy water.
Before I can respond, she grabs her jacket and ducks out the window, blending with the night.
I leave the window open, allowing the cool breeze to seep in, and grab my French book. There’s no hope of me sleeping after what I’ve just done. The more I try to fight my new life, the more I try to deny what I am now, the more pain I cause to everyone else. Especially Ava.
But this time, I’ve hurt her for the last time.
I’m a Hellwalker, part of a Triad in the Guardians. I hunt demons and drag them back to hell.
That’s why Ava Pierce can never be anything more than a nice memory.
As I walk home from Darien’s house, my thoughts are racing.
I don’t know who to trust anymore.
All of my friends have been deceiving me. And as much as it hurts to know that Claire and Tuck have been lying for a very long time, it hurts even more to know that Darien won’t confide in me now.
Darien. The boy who I’ve spent countless hours watching play football no matter how freezing my hands got or how pink my nose turned. Who not only watched the sappiest romantic comedies with me, but held me even tighter when I bawled at the emotional parts.
We used to tell each other everything. We shared our goals and dreams, our fears and heartache.
I’m starting to accept that I’m not his girlfriend anymore, but I’m questioning if we’re even really friends.
If any of them are actually my friends.
And then there’s Finn.
As much as I keep trying to convince myself that all of this angel and demon stuff can’t be true, I felt the way he controlled me at the park when he wanted to show me what he is.
A demon. A flipping demon.
That isn’t a good thing, right? Demons are supposed to be evil. That’s what all the religious books say.
But he’s the only one who trusted me enough to tell me the truth. And after feeling the power he had over me, if luring me into his bed or corrupting me in some other way was his goal, he’d have done it already.
I’d gone over to Darien’s to give him one more chance to trust me. Not only did he fail, but he kissed me like he used to, and that’s what hurt most of all. His familiar cologne scent of pine and vanilla comforted me, and his lips on mine felt just as right as they always have.
Goosebumps pop up on my bare arms, so I cross them in front of my body and run my hands up and down to warm my skin. I could put on the jacket in my hand, but why bother? Soon enough I’ll be home to my empty house and I can curl under my blankets and turn on a horror movie. Watching people get chopped into pieces sounds oddly soothing to me right now.
Dad is gone for the weekend. I was supposed to go over to Claire’s for the night, but before I went over to Darien’s, I texted her I was just going to stay at my house. I can’t look at her and pretend I don’t know the truth now, and I’m too tired to deal with everything I’ll say to her the next time I see her.
Headlights shine behind me. I expect a car to pass me by, but instead, it slows down and I hear the vibration of its engine.
I speed up. My place is only three houses down. I reach into my back pocket to pull out my phone, but it isn’t there. I must have left it at home. Or did it fall out at Darien’s?
As I turn my head to see who’s behind me, a hand covers my mouth while an arm wraps around my waist and lifts me from the ground.
I try to shout, but the person’s palm muffles the sound.
“Fighting will do you no good,” a male voice says.
This doesn’t stop me. I use my elbows to try to jab him in the stomach, but he just laughs.
“I love a girl who resists.”
Panic washes through me like ice in my veins. Think, Ava.
The man turns with me in his arms and I see the brown car that had me paranoid, its headlights nearly blinding me.
I lower my chin to my chest and then, with as much force as I can muster, snap my head backward and smash my skull into his face.
I flail my arms and legs, praying someone will look outside a window and see me struggling. He swears some more, then with the hand covering my mouth, he plugs my nose.
My lungs burn as I desperately try to breathe.
We reach the car, but he pauses.
Everything blurs around me as I feel myself fading away.
Then the world goes black.
15
Well, I had my doubts, but I’ve made it past mid-week. That’s not to say I haven’t broken practically everything I’ve touched, but at least I’m alive. All things considered, I’ve done okay.
The commons is buzzing this morning with excitement about tomorrow’s home game against Seattle North. Normally, I’d be right in the thick of it, going over game strategy with Logan and Eli and ditching class to watch game footage in Coach McCabe’s office.
Not today, though.
Coach chewed my ass out in front of the whole team yesterday for missing two practices in a row. I just stood there, taking it, distracted by thoughts of Daeva and Pey, rather than play-action passes and option offense. Logan waves me over from across the room. I acknowledge him with a jerk of my chin but keep walking. This morning, my heart’s just not in it.
The truth is, I’m looking for Ava. Part of me is dying to see her. I need to apologize again and beg for forgiveness. The other part wants to hide from her. But I’ve never been a coward. I don’t plan on starting now. I need to face her and the reality that after what I pulled last night, I’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again. It’s almost time for the first bell, though, and I still haven’t seen her.
I spot Tuck down the hall beside the office. He’s talking to Rachel, who is shaking her head and rolling her eyes. I try to fight it, but my body has a mind of its own when it comes to her. My heart kicks it up a notch, warmth spreading through me at the sight of her. I know she senses me. She stops talking in mid-sentence and looks right at me. Tuck follows the direction of her stare and smirks, waving me over.
