A Shimmer of Angels (15 page)

The rest of the school day was a blur. My stomach complained about its vast emptiness as I hiked up our hill alone. Lee hadn’t been waiting outside for me after school. I half-expected to find him inside Roxy’s, or at the bus stop playing with his phone, but he wasn’t there, either.

I paused outside Roxy’s, leaning against a streetlamp to collect myself. My eyes kept darting to the empty bus stop. I’d managed to alienate my only friend. Luke might be in some kind of trouble with the angels. And in five minutes, I’d have to slip on the world’s ugliest outfit, smile, and pretend to be normal for the next five hours. Like I even knew what normal was anymore.

Two days ago, I was desperate for this job. For a piece of normal. Now I would have given anything to slog home and hole up under the blankets for the rest of the weekend. I was beginning to learn it didn’t matter what I did; I couldn’t escape the crazy. It was part of me; it was who I was. The best I could do was try to hold it together while everything unraveled around me. Because I wouldn’t go back to the SS Crazy. I
wouldn’t
. So I pulled myself together. I gulped in the crisp October air, swept my hair back into a ponytail, secured it with a black ribbon, and began my shift.

***

Friday’s faculty day meant no school, but I still had to work the dinner shift. Nothing went right. Shelly had the night off, so it was up to me and Daphne, who ordered me around with the finesse of a slave driver. I messed up orders, spilled food, and broke plates. The worst part had to be when the senior citizens came in for the early-bird dinner special—a tasty-smelling pot roast—and one broke out his cell phone, calling all his friends to come check out the new bumbling, fumbling waitress at Roxy’s.

The old buzzards filed in over the next hour, a select few snickering at me as they packed the place with blue hair, canes, and walkers with little green tennis balls on the ends. With only two waitresses, Daphne and I had our hands full—Daphne waiting on the customers, me cleaning up my own messes.

The rush eventually ended. My feet ached, my knees and ankles rebelled when I moved, and if I smelled another pot roast, I’d have to puke. The diner closed at midnight on Fridays, but my shift ended at ten. Daphne was in the back, “resting her corns.” If I had a choice between seeing those corns and smelling the pot roast, hands down, I’d take the pot roast.

My last customer of the night, a pretty blonde, sat alone. Her fork clanked against her plate as I trekked toward her with as genuine a smile as I could scrape up.

“Anything else I can get you?” I asked, check in hand.

She shook her head and rubbed her flat stomach. I placed the check on the corner of the table.

The door’s bell chimed. I glanced up and saw nothing but black feathers, tanned skin, and handsome boy. My heart twisted, and a shudder crawled under my skin. I suddenly missed the rush crowd desperately. I forced my chin up and cleared the fear from my throat. “Coffee?”

His dark eyes were shaded as he nodded and claimed the same squeaky stool he’d occupied on Wednesday night. He dipped one wing and glanced over his shoulder, grinning at my very interested-looking customer.

I snatched the coffee pot off its warming plate and slid a mug across the counter.

“You mind making a fresh pot?” he asked, full attention on me now. “The ladies always make me a fresh pot.”

“I’m sure they do,” I mumbled acridly as I stomped to the coffee station. It wouldn’t surprise me if
the ladies
all fell at his feet, either.

I dumped five scoops of ground coffee into a new filter, added water to the line, and flipped the switch. I spun back around, telling myself I wouldn’t see those hideous, intriguing black things. But I did. “Can I get you anything else while you’re waiting?” I didn’t even try to force another smile. I was tapped out. On edge. Being so close to him did strange things to me.

He shook his head, his gaze following me in a mesmerizing way.

I looked down, avoiding those dark pools of danger.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice flowed like the roughest velvet, softening my resolve.

My temper flared at my reaction to his voice. I slapped my hand down on the counter and glared at him. “No, you can’t, but I’m going to tell
you
something.” My self-control was dissolving, things slipping from my lips I never intended to think—let alone say—with him in earshot. The weight of a horrible week pressed down on me harder than I could handle. The appearance of Cam, Allison’s suicide, Cam discovering I could see him, Tony’s suicide, an introduction to the first set of black wings I’d ever seen, the arguments with Dad and Laylah …

I closed my eyes in an effort to calm myself down, but it didn’t work. Kade was pushing all the wrong buttons. Anger steamrolled my fear, and I let loose on him. “I know what you are. Those abominations you carry behind you? I
see
them.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

What had I done? I backed away, fighting to keep my horror from showing. His face, on the other hand, was suddenly as expressive as stone. A ripple ran over his wings, and I got the sudden impression he was feeling
something
. Maybe he didn’t bother to hide his wing movement because most people can’t see them. But I could, and they were way more expressive than his face could possibly be. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure what that ripple meant, but I’d damn sure be paying closer attention to them from now on.

I tried my best to keep my voice even as I added, “And don’t think, even for a second, that I’m afraid of you.”

He stilled. “Actually, I was going to tell you the coffee pot’s overflowing. You added too much water.”

I’d expected him to be shocked, angry, threatening to rip my head off my shoulders. If this was a trick to get me off my guard, he had another thing coming. I’d learned quickly—after the first time I’d been attacked by a fellow schizophrenic—to never turn your back on someone who just might be crazier than you. But when the sound of a small waterfall caught my attention, I did turn. Hot coffee rained from the back counter into a fast-growing pool of brown bitterness.

“Shit!”

I threw a rag into the slop and ran into the kitchen for a mop. I searched frantically for the bucket and Pine-Sol Daphne had used to mop up my last mess less than an hour ago. When I finally found them tucked away in the opposite corner, I returned to the ever-growing spill. The mop sloshed around in the liquid before it absorbed a single drop, and the coffee still streamed. I switched the machine off and unplugged it so I could wipe up the rest of the mess.

When another of my wonderful messes was cleaned, I looked up again. He was gone. I pressed my hand to my chest and almost sunk below the counter until I remembered my other customer.

I steadied myself, measuring each step as I walked to the blonde’s empty table, needing something easy and normal to calm my nerves. A fifty-cent tip. Par for my day. I stuffed it into my pocket and collected her plate. The pie was only half-eaten. I returned to the counter and dropped the plate off in the dirty dish bin.

“What’s this?” Daphne emerged from the back, wearing the same look she’d had every time I’d failed at my tasks the last two days.

“Trouble with the coffeepot.”

“The only trouble with the coffeepot is that you don’t know how to use it. I’ll rinse the mop; why don’t you go take out the garbage.”

Taking out the garbage, a job that was impossible to screw up. I cinched the bag shut with a plastic strip tie and dragged it through the kitchen, past the office, and out the back door into the chilly fall night. The Dumpster was only a few yards from the door. I took a step toward it, but stopped when I spotted a set of familiar black wings folded around a blonde.

I squinted through the darkness, spotting that unmistakably messy-sexy hair beside bright platinum blonde. I heard noises. Were they …?

Yep. They were making out next to the trash bin. How, well, trashy.

The iridescent wings shimmered, growing brighter with every passing second. If Cam’s wings glowed like the sun, Kade’s shone like a starry night. The girl drew in a long, jagged breath. Kade tilted his face to the sky, lips parted, as if waiting to catch raindrops on his tongue. He sucked in a mouthful of air like he was drowning. Starlight danced and swirled along his wings.

Without it, I’d have never seen the strange, crimson smoke that curled between Kade and the woman. The blonde’s head rolled to her shoulder, and more smoke poured from her mouth. He lowered his head to hers, drinking in the smoke like he was stealing something from her. Something important. Something necessary.

The bag of garbage clunked to the ground. My hands were shaking so badly I was surprised I’d managed to hang on to it that long. He turned to me then, his eyes consumed with black. Under the glow of his wings, the red smoke deepened as it disappeared into him.

My feet screamed at me to run. And run I did, back into the kitchen, through the dining room, and straight out the front door.

“Kay, wait!” I heard him shout, even as I sprinted up the street. “Kay!” he screamed again. I ran faster.

A tiny part of my brain noticed he’d screwed up my name. Kay, not Ray. At least he didn’t know my name.

I darted across the street. Headlights blared, casting my long shadow across the asphalt. A horn honked. To my right, a car barreled toward me. Tires screeched. I jumped out of the way, barely escaping being flattened on the dark street.

With my heart threatening to explode in my chest, I kept going. I took a few different turns in case Kade was on my heels. Right, left, up another block, then left again.

I sprinted faster. My legs were weak, but I pressed them on as if my life depended on it. Because I was pretty sure it did. Shadows seemed to be following me. Dark corners breathed with life. Glowing eyes peeked out from everywhere.

A streetlight illuminated the reflective white street sign at the top of the block. Sacramento Street. I was still several blocks from home, but at least I’d be on the right street. I made a left, looking over my shoulder as I rounded the corner. No one was there. That meant nothing. He could be anywhere.

My legs shook from fatigue, and my lungs burned with a fire I couldn’t sate. Tears blurred the world in front of me. I pushed forward, glancing behind me every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t behind me. Hunting. Coming to steal from me whatever he’d stolen from that girl. Or maybe just to kill me. But there was nothing but shadows, buildings, and streetlights.

When I turned to glance behind me again, I slammed into something. Pain shot through my shoulder. My breath whooshed out, leaving my lungs empty. Strong arms wrapped around me. Arms that kept me from tumbling back onto the concrete. Or escaping.

Adrenaline kicked in. I fought through tear-clouded vision and oxygen-deprived lungs. My kicking and struggling did little good against the tight grip that wouldn’t loosen. Every beat of my heart slammed against my ribcage. I tried to beat my fists against him, but they were clamped between us. Fire crept up my lungs, searing them before I could scream.

A deep, worried voice broke through my panic. “Rayna!”

Rayna, not Kay. It wasn’t Kade.

I melted in relief for half a second. Then I remembered that Kay was my mother’s name.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Her name was Kayleigh, and only Dad ever called her Kay. I couldn’t help remembering how Dad’s eyes always softened every time she asked him for something, her head tilted to the side, and he’d say, “All right, Kay.” When Mom wasn’t on one of her long, working vacations, she’d stay home with Laylah and me, turn up the music, and we’d all hold hands and dance. Even when Dad would take Laylah and me out, or bring us home from school, Mom would be waiting on the couch with snacks, always so happy to see us. Mom was the glue that held us all together, the light in Dad’s laughter, the master of the kitchen, the Band-aid queen, and hair-fixer. Mom was Kay, the love of Dad’s life and the best mother two girls could have ever asked for.

I blinked away tears, shoving memories of my mom back to a safe corner of my mind, and made out a blurry head of blond hair—
blond
,
not black.
I’d given up my fight, but tension still locked my knees. Digging my nails into my palms tore the soft skin, dripping warm blood down my wrists.

“Rayna, are you all right? What happened?” Slate eyes searched my face, my throat, my arms. Cam stopped at the blood on my wrists. As quickly as his arms wrapped around me, they retreated. “Are you hurt?” He took my elbows in his hands gently, allowing my fists to uncurl. “Who did this?” His fingers clenched tighter to me. “Rayna, what happened to you?” The power in his voice, his concern, focused me.

I backed away. He reluctantly released me, his grip tensing before slacking.

Panic intensified inside me. My breathing stopped short. I turned in every direction, trying to get my bearings, looking for a counterweight to keep me from tumbling over the edge.

We were in a park. The same park he’d walked me to on Tuesday. Over the tips of his wings, I could see the white church across the street.

But … Mom. Kade. Black wings. Red. My vision tunneled. My eyes welled. The air I breathed wasn’t enough. And cold. It was so cold. A shiver racked my body. My teeth chattered together.

Cam stared at me, concern obvious on his face. “Is everything okay?” When I didn’t respond, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Rayna.”

I pushed away from him and swiped at the hair that had fallen over my shoulder. He let me go. My knees threatened to buckle, and my head spun.

Cam’s arm curled behind my back, guiding me to the nearest bench. His warm, frustrated breath rushed by my ear. He sat me on the bench and kneeled in front of me. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I swallowed and shook my head. There was no way to explain what I’d seen in the alley. What Kade had done to that poor girl … or why he’d called me Kay. I glanced back down the street, searching all the places the amber streetlights failed to touch. When I looked again, the sight of Cam’s wings sent a torrent of chills up one side of my spine and down the other.