Angelbound (10 page)

Hells Bells. When you’re miserable, there’s nothing worse than someone else’s happiness.

“Gooooooood morning, Myla!” Her little golden curls bounce by her shoulders.
Even her hair looks chipper.

“Hey, Cissy.”

“Did you get my messages? I tried to get in touch a million times. Then your answering machine was busted or something.”

I press my palms into my eyes. “Mom and I had a fight and–” What do I say here? I fought with a thrax, my dad might be a ghoul, and an oracle angel is sending me visions of Mom’s past? I sigh. “I’ve been a little down, that’s all.”

Frowning, Cissy places her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, that’s too bad.” I can almost hear her counting to three under her breath, giving my misery a bit of air-time before we move onto the marquee subject. “Okay, then! Let’s talk about Zeke.”

I debate about feigning illness—a sudden bout of the plague might get me out of this morning’s Zeke love fest—but then I remember Cissy’s been obsessing
about this guy for at least a decade. Let her have her moment. I plaster on a grin. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

I half-listen to her love-babble until she starts demonstrating Zeke’s best dance moves down the hallway. The girls stare with a sneer, the guys with open mouths. I’m seriously debating what would happen if I accidentally tripped her when I get the bright idea to check my watch.

“Gosh Cissy, I have to run. Can’t be late for History!” Wow, I never thought I’d say
that
out loud.

For once, I arrive early to History, slipping into my favorite back row seat. All the students mill about, chit-chatting about the weekend. Miss Thing puts on lipstick using a small compact. Amazing how she can use a mirror and still not notice the huge red smear across her front teeth.

Miss Thing claps her hands twice. “Everyone, pay attention.”

I sit straight in my chair, ready to work. I’m feeling mighty proud of my Cissy management strategy when I realize my massive error: class is starting and Zeke’s just now walking through the door. I swing my long hair in front of my face, hoping that will hide my identity (not my best plan.) He heads straight for me anyway.

I almost face-palm myself. What’s the first rule of avoiding someone at school? Arrive late to class so you pick the seat farthest away from them.

Miss Thing paces the front of the room, her red stilettos click-clacking with each step. “Class, turn to 542 of
Purgatory Through the Ages.
”

I whip out my book as Zeke slides into the empty seat next to mine.

“Morning, Myla.”

Flipping through pages, I pretend not to hear him. Maybe he’ll get the message and pay attention to the lecture.

“I said,
good morning, Myla
.”

No such luck. I grind my teeth and low out a low ‘grrr.’ I’d expected the love-fest from Cissy, but I truly counted on never speaking to Zeke again. Now, I’m trapped next to him in history class and Mister Smarmy wants to talk. This sucks, big time.

Be nice to him for Cissy, Myla. Don’t ruin it for her.

I let out one last ‘grr’ and whisper “Hey, Zeke.”

Miss Thing stops pacing. Her black eyes carefully scan the room. “Class, we’re about to start a very important lesson. This month marks the twentieth anniversary of Armageddon’s liberation of Purgatory. To celebrate, we’ll learn all about how clever and merciful your new overlords are. Who wants to begin the reading?” No one raises a hand. “Paulette, why don’t you start us off? Page 542.”

Paulette carefully repositions her Hermes scarf on one shoulder, then begins to read: “Armageddon’s War, Episode One, Quasis Mismanage Purgatory. For thousands of years, quasi-demons mismanaged–”

As Paulette keeps reading, Zeke whispers across the aisle. “Myla, I know why you were so angry at the party.”

My throat tightens. Zeke knows Lincoln?

“You do?” Picking up my pen, I start doodling on my notebook. “It’s one thing to be treated that way by a ghoul, but not…You know.”

Zeke nods. “I understand.”

Setting down my pen, I take a good look at Zeke. Of all the people in my life, I never expected to confide in him, let alone during history class. But here he is, caramel eyes wide with understanding.

I fidget in my seat. “I guess it caught me off guard.” Taking a deep breath, I feel my limbs loosen.

“It could happen to anyone.” Zeke folds his hands neatly on his desk. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

Why didn’t I tell anyone I was insulted by a thrax?
“I guess it was embarrassing.”

Zeke sighs. “You should have confessed your major crush on me years ago. I would’ve been cool about it.”

My mouth falls open. “My major crush on who?”

“Come on, Myla. You’ve been crushing on me for ages and now everyone knows it. A bunch of kids saw you lose it when Cis and I were dancing.”

Anger zooms through my body. I scan the room; half the class stares at me and Zeke, their eyes filled with pity. Unholy Moley. Zeke’s version of Friday night is all over school. Rage smolders up my spine.

“You’re wrong, Zeke.” My eyes glow red.

“Don’t go all demon-iris on me. It’s not a bad thing. I was starting to wonder if you were like those single cell thingies we learned about in Biology. You know, the ones that don’t need a mate? What are they called again?”

My hands clench into fists. “Amoebas?”

“I was going to say paramecium.”

My eyes flare brighter. “Well, now you don’t have to say that. Ever. Again.”

Leaning across the aisle, Zeke speaks in a low voice: “All I want to know is this: are you okay with Cissy and I dating? I mean, can you actually handle seeing all this–” he gestures across his chest “–with someone else?”

It takes all my strength not to howl and rip the room apart. Three-fourths of the class stares at us now. The scene perfectly matches what Zeke told them: I had a massive obsession with him, not the other way around. I grip the edges of my desk so tightly, I think my knuckles will pop.

Zeke eyes me carefully. “Well?”

“I was never interested in you, Captain Ego.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Myla.” He makes tut-tut noise in his throat, and I have to stifle the urge to punch him. “Look, Cissy and I talked about this over the weekend.” He takes a deep breath. “Unless you say you’re okay with us, she won’t see me anymore.” The color drains from his face.

I stare at him out of my right eye. Guys like him don’t change overnight. “Why isn’t Cissy asking me this?”

“She will.” He scrapes at the desktop with his thumbnail. “I didn’t want to take a chance, so I brought it up with you first.” His voice goes low. “Actually, I promised her I wouldn’t bring it up at all.”

“So, you lied to my best friend.” My inner rage monster lets out a protective roar. “Let’s set aside my so-called ‘obsession’ with you for a moment.” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say ‘obsession.’ “You’ve been
nothing but a mindless lust monkey for years. Why should I agree to let you near someone as sweet as Cissy?”

Zeke lets out a long sigh. “My family has power, money.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing his neck with his hand. “It makes me a target.”

My upper lip curls. Screw him and his fake problems. “Boo hoo.”

Zeke chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in his laugh. “And
that’s
what I’m talking about.” He shakes his head from side to side. “Cissy doesn’t see me as this privileged dickhead.” His shoulders slump. For the first time, I see him as a different person: a warrior, but not someone who battles with rage, like me. More like someone who fights with despair.

“You have to understand, Cissy sees someone else in me.” His caramel eyes find mine, and for the first time there’s something and real behind them. “I want to be that guy for her, Myla.” His jaw sets into a firm line. “Please give us a chance, that’s all I ask.”

My rage cools. I never thought of Zeke as acting the playboy to hide something else. But all those overly-expensive gifts and one-time hook-ups? The pattern’s kinda obvious, come to think of it.

Closing my eyes, I picture the first time I talked to Cissy. It was in first grade, and I was trying to avoid trouble on the playground. It didn’t work. Billy Summers was giving me crap for my ‘weird tail’ for the millionth time. I snapped, flattened him, and then everyone—teachers and kids alike—looked at me like a criminal-slash-freak. That’s when Cissy walked up to me and took my hand. She saw something different in me, too. My heart warms at the memory.

I inhale a slow breath. “I’ll give you a chance, Zeke. But so help me, if you hurt her…” My eyes flare red. “I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Zeke’s mouth winds into a relieved smile. “Thank you.” He slumps back in his chair, his blonde eyebrows arching. Within seconds, his Mister Smarmy act returns with a vengeance. “That’s big of you, kitten.” He shoots me with his pointer finger gun. “Really big.”

You have no idea.

I stare at my lunch tray: some kind of mystery pasta (green mac and cheese, maybe?) and a diet coke. Man, do I wish I hadn’t forgotten to shove some Demon bars in my backpack today. Ah, Demon bars. Eight ounces of candy disguised as granola-based nutrition. Yum. Meanwhile, the school cafeteria’s idea of food is nothing less than terrifying.

Cissy slips into the empty chair across from me. Like always, it’s just the two of us at our favorite corner table. Her tawny eyes sparkle. “We need to talk.”

The room turns strangely quiet. I scan the nearby faces, noting how everyone’s actively avoiding looking in my direction. Dread and bile twist my stomach. My conversation with Cissy is today’s lunchtime theater, and no one wants to miss a word.

I poke at the greenish pasta with my fork. “Sure.”

“I wanted to talk about it over the weekend, but you didn’t pick up your phone.” Cissy sighs. “We were all a little surprised about the party.”

“We?” My back teeth lock with rage.

“You know Zeke, his friends, everyone at school who was at the party.” Cissy sips her can of diet soda. Then, she pauses. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” I force myself to drop my fork; I think I dug a hole through the plastic plate.

“Come on, Myla. I can see you’re still upset.” Cissy reaches across the table, wrapping her hand around my own. “Listen to me. Say the word and it’s over with Zeke. I mean it.” Tears bead in her tawny eyes; my anger slowly melts. “Your friendship means so much to me.”

Cissy’s been my best friend since first grade, and a true one. She taught me how to twist my hair into an envy-worthy braid; I showed her how to trip people with her tail. How could I not be happy for her? I open my mouth, trying to speak through the knot of emotion in my throat. I let out a few garbled words that sound like “Ree roo.”

Cissy frowns. “Um, what was that?”

I clear my throat. “Me too. Your friendship means a lot. I’m happy for you and Zeke.” Leaning back in my chair, I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “Look, there was another reason I lost it at the party.”

Cissy gives my hand a pat. “Sure there was. That’s why you asked me your hypothetical question on the car ride home.”

“What hypothetical?”

“You know. About wanting to kiss
someone
?” She rolls her eyes.

I inwardly groan. She thought that conversation was about Zeke, not Lincoln.
Is there really any point to telling her the truth? I’m not going to get honest advice anyway.

Zeke chooses that moment to sashay up to table. “Hello, lovelies. Are we ready to go?”

Cissy holds up her pointer finger. “Not yet. Myla wants to tell me something.”

My gaze shifts between Cissy and her new beau. There is zero point in discussing Lincoln right now. They aren’t going to believe it, and I’ll never see the creep again anyway. “No, I’m good.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” Cissy taps her chin. “Your Mom, maybe?”

Damn, she’s good.
“What makes you say that?”

“I know my Myla-la.”

Hmm. Maybe I should spill my guts about Verus, the dreamscapes, and how Dad’s a ghoul.
Hey Cissy, you know how I’m a part-Furor, freaky-tailed, wrath-filled Arena fighter? Now we can add part-ghoul to the list, with an oracle Angel Queen stalker.

Ah, no. “There’s some stuff going on, but I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”

Cissy frowns. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

Zeke rubs his hands together. “Great, that’s all settled.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Want to meet the guys?”

I just about fall out of my chair. Zeke wants to take Cissy to meet his friends? He never takes anyone to meet his boys, at least not during daylight. Zeke hangs
with the most notorious hotties in school and everyone knows there’s an invisible ‘no girls allowed’ sign over their lunch table. The fact that he’s inviting her to visit is nothing less than monumental.

“We’re ready.” Cissy grips my arm like she’ll rip it out of the socket. “Like I told you, Myla wants to go too.”

“I do?” Wow, I have
zero
desire to expose myself to Zeke and his lust-bunny brigade. Plus, I’m not one of those ‘I can’t eat by myself’ types. I can live without Cissy at lunch for one day. “Are you
sure
you want me to go?” Translation: can I stay here, please?

Cissy hauls me to my feet. “Yes, I’m absolutely, positively sure.”

My upper lip curls. Clearly, I hadn’t thought this whole ‘Cissy and Zeke’ thing through. Their dating changes me from ‘the star of the Cissy show’ to a sideline actress who gets hauled around to fill out the stage. My heart fills with a combination of severe depression and a sudden desire to kick Zeke’s ass.

This. Sucks.

Cissy shoots me a pleading glance. “Come on, sweetie?” I stare into her tawny, innocent eyes and feel my resistance melt away.

I straighten my shoulders. “Of course, let’s go.”

“You’re the best.” Cissy loops her arm around mine. Together, we walk across the lunchroom to a table filled with very handsome guys who have names like Chip, Tripp, and Bif. All of them have smirky smiles, muscle-bound chests, and no need for demon lust in order to attract the opposite sex. Yet, they can’t seem to get a word out without working their
thang
. The conversation’s boring
stuff, like school and the weather, but these guys say every word with a sultry voice while their eyes flare red. Every other girl within a twenty-foot radius peeps at them and blushes.