Dark Angel; The Chosen; Soulmate (15 page)

But his face wasn't
wrong
, the way the other faces had been. It was set and grim, maybe even a little scary, but it wasn't evil.

“Now, look,” he said, and his voice wasn't evil, either, just rapid and short. “I don't know who you are, or how you managed to get in there, but you'd better turn around and go home right now. Because whatever you are, you're not a Harman.”

“How do you know?” Gillian blurted before Angel could tell her what to say.

“Because I'm related to the Harmans. I'm Ash Redfern.
You don't even know what that means, do you? If you
were
a Harman you'd know that our families are kin.”

(You
are
a Harman, and you
are
a witch!) Angel was actually raging. (Tell him! Tell him!)

But the ash-blond boy was going on. “They'll eat you alive in there if they find out for sure. They're not as—tolerant—of humans as I am. So my advice is, get in your car, drive away, and never come back. And never mention this place to anybody else.”

(You're a lost witch! You're not a human. Tell him!)

“How come
you're
so tolerant?” Gillian was staring at the boy. His eyes… she'd thought they were amber-colored originally, like Steffi's, but now they were emerald green.

He gave her an odd look. Then he smiled. It was a lazy smile, but with something heart-wrenching behind it.

“I met a human girl last summer,” he said quietly, and that seemed to explain everything.

Then he nodded at her car. “Get out of here. Never come back. I'm just passing through; I won't be around to save you again.”

(Don't get in the car. Don't go. Tell him. You're a witch; you belong to Circle Midnight.
Don't go!
)

For the first time, Gillian deliberately disobeyed an order of Angel's. She unlocked the car with shaky hands. As she got in, she looked back at the boy. Ash.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Bye.” He wiggled his fingers. He watched as she drove away.

(Go back there right now! You
belong
there, just as much as any of them. You're one of them. They can't keep you out. Turn around and go back!)

“Angel, stop it!” She said it out loud. “I can't! Don't you see that? I
can't
. They were
horrible
. They were—
evil
.”

Now that she was alone, reaction was setting in. Her whole body began to shake. She was suddenly blind with tears, her breath catching in her throat.

“Not evil!” Angel shimmered into the seat beside her. He had never sounded so agitated. “Just powerful—”

“They were
evil
. They wanted to hurt me. I saw their eyes!” She was lapsing into hysteria. “Why did you
take
me there? You wouldn't even let me talk to Melusine. Melusine wasn't like
them
.”

A violent shiver overtook her. The car veered and she struggled with it, barely getting control. All at once everything seemed alien and terrifying; she was out on a long and lonely road, and it was night, and there was an uncanny
being
in the seat beside her.

She didn't know who he was anymore. All she knew was that he wasn't any kind of an angel. The logical alternative sprang immediately to her mind. She was alone in the middle of nowhere
with a demon…
.

“Gillian, stop it!”

“Who are you? What are you, really?
Who are you?
”

“What do you mean? You know who I am.”

“No, I don't!” She was screaming it. “I don't know anything about you! Why did you take me there? Why did you want them to hurt me? Why?”

“Gillian, stop the car.
Stop. The. Car
.”

His voice was so commanding, so urgent and imperative, that she actually obeyed. She was sobbing anyway. She couldn't drive or see. She felt, literally and honestly, that she was losing her mind at that exact moment.

“Now look at me. Wipe your face off and look at me.”

After a moment she managed. He was shining. Light seemed to radiate from every inch of him, from the gold filaments of his hair, to his classic features, to the lines of his perfect body. And he'd calmed down. His expression was rapt and uplifted, the serenity only marred by what looked like concern for her.

“Now,” he said. “I'm sorry if all this scared you. New things are like that sometimes—they seem repulsive just because they're different. But we won't talk about that now,” he added, as Gillian caught a shuddering breath. “The important thing is that I wasn't trying to hurt you.” His eyes seemed to grow even more intense, pure violet flame.

Gillian hiccupped. “But—you—”

“I
could
never hurt you, Gillian. Because, you see, we're soulmates.”

He said it with the weight of a monumental revelation. And although Gillian had no idea what it meant, she felt an odd quiver inside, almost of recognition.

“What's that?”

“It's something that happens with people who belong to the Night World. It means that there's only one love for everyone who exists. And when you meet that love, you know them. You know you were meant to be together, and nothing can keep you apart.”

It was true. Every word seemed to resonate inside Gillian, touching off ancient, hidden memories. This was something her ancestors had known.

Her cheeks had dried. Her hysteria was gone. But she felt very tired and very bewildered.

“But… if that's true…” She couldn't put the thought together.

“Don't worry about it right now.” Angel's voice was soothing. “We'll talk about it later. I'll explain what it all means. I just wanted you to know that I would never hurt you. I love you, Gillian. Don't you realize that?”

“Yes,” Gillian whispered. Everything was very foggy. She didn't want to think, didn't want to consider the implications of what Angel was saying.

She just wanted to get home.

“Relax and I'll help you drive,” Angel said. “Don't worry about anything. It's all going to be all right.”

The next day, Gillian tried to concentrate on normal things.

She hurried to school, feeling unrested—had she had nightmares?—and desperately in need of distraction. All day at school, she threw herself into activities, chattering and laughing and keeping people around her, talking about Christmas and parties and finals.

It worked. Angel was very gentle, keeping quietly in the background. All the other students were hyperactive with the thought of only two more days of school. And by the afternoon Gillian had become caught up in her own frantic good spirits.

“We don't even have a tree,” she said to David. “And it's five days to Christmas Eve. I have to drag my mom out and buy one.”

“Don't buy one,” David said, smiling at her with his dark
eyes. “I'll take you out tonight to a place I know. It's beautiful, and the trees are free.” He winked.

“I'll bring the station wagon,” Gillian said. “Lots of room. I like
big
trees.”

At home, she stayed busy, prodding her mother to wrap packages and dust off the plastic Christmas flower arrangements. There was no talk with Angel about how to tell her mother about witches.

She was still happy when she picked David up after dinner. He seemed a little subdued, but she wasn't in the mood to ask questions. Instead, she talked about the party Steffi Lockhart was giving on Friday night.

It was a long drive, and she was running out of speculations about Steffi's party when David finally said, “Somewhere along here, I think.”

“Okay. I'll take one of those.” Gillian pointed at the sixtyfoot-tall pine trees that lined the road.

David smiled. “There are some smaller ones farther in.”

There were so many that Gillian had a hard time choosing. At last, she settled on a balsam fir with a perfect silhouette, like a plump lady holding out her skirts. It was wonderfully aromatic as she and David chopped it down and half dragged, half carried it to the car.

“I just love that smell,” she said. “And I don't even care that my gloves are ruined.”

David didn't answer. He was quiet as he tied the back of
the station wagon closed around the tree. He was quiet as they got in the car and Gillian began to drive.

And Gillian couldn't stand it anymore. Little waves of acid were lapping in her stomach. “What's wrong? You haven't been talking all night.”

“I'm sorry.” He let out his breath, looking out the window. “I guess… I was just thinking about Tanya.”

Gillian blinked. “Tanya? Should I be jealous?”

He glanced at her. “No, I mean—her arm.”

A strange sort of prickling cascaded over Gillian, and in that moment everything changed forever. She seemed to ask the next question in a huge, quivering stillness. “What about her arm?”

“You didn't hear? I thought somebody would've called you. They took her to the hospital this afternoon.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, but it's worse. That thing they thought was a rash was necrotizing something-or-other… you know, that flesh-eating bacteria.”

Gillian opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The road in front of her seemed very dim.

“Cory said she can't have any visitors—her arm swelled up to three times its normal size. They had to cut it open all the way from her shoulder to her finger to drain it. They think she might lose her finger—”

“Stop it!” A suppressed scream.

David looked at her quickly. “I'm sorry—”

“No! Just don't talk!” Gillian's automatic reflexes had taken over driving the car. She was hardly aware of anything outside her own body. All her concentration was fixed on the drama inside her own mind.

(Angel! Did you hear that? What is going
on
?)

(Of course I heard it.) The voice was slow and thoughtful.

(Well, is it true? Is it?)

(Look, let's talk about this later, all right, kid? Let's wait—)

(No! Everything with you is “Wait” or “We'll talk about it later.” I want to know
right now
: is it true?)

(Is what true?)

(
Is Tanya that sick?
Is she about to lose her
finger
?)

(It's just an infection, Gillian.
Streptococcus pyogenes
. You were the one who put it there.)

(You're saying it
is
true. It's true. I did it with
my
spell. I gave her flesh-eating bacteria.) Gillian threw the thoughts out wildly, disjointedly. She couldn't really grasp what it all meant yet.

(Gillian, we had to stop her from destroying David. It was necessary.)

(No! No! You knew I didn't really want to hurt her. What are you
talking
about? How can you even
say
that?) Gillian was in hysteria again, a strange hysteria of the mind. She was vaguely aware that she was still driving, that fences and trees were flying by. Her body was sitting in the car, breathing quickly, speeding, but her real self seemed to be in another place.

(You lied to me. You told me she was all right. Why did you do that?)

(Calm down, dragonfly—)

(
Don't call me that!
How can you just—just sit there… and not care? What kind of person
are
you?)

And then—Angel's voice changed. He didn't get hysterical or agitated; it was much worse. His voice became calmer. More melodious. Pleasant.

(I'm just dispensing justice. It's what angels do, you know.)

Icy horror swept over Gillian.

He sounded insane.

“Oh, God,” she said, and she said it out loud. David looked at her.

“Hey—are you okay?”

She scarcely heard him. She was thinking with fevered intensity: (I don't know
what
you are, but you are
not
an angel.)

(Gillian, listen to me. We don't have to fight. I
love
you—)

(Then tell me how to fix Tanya!)

Silence.

(I'll find out myself. I'll go back to Melusine—)

(No!)

(Then tell me! Or heal Tanya yourself if you're a real angel!)

A pause. Then: (Gillian, I've got an idea. A way to make David love you more.)

(What are you
talking
about?)

(We need to give him a near-death experience. Then he'll be able to truly understand you. We need to make him die.)

Everything blurred. Gillian knew they were nearing Somerset, they were on familiar streets. But for a moment her vision went completely gray and sparkling.

“Gillian!” A hand was on hers, a real hand, steadying the wheel. “Are you all right? Do you want me to drive?”

“I'm okay.” Her vision had cleared. She just wanted to get home. She had to get to that shoe box and fix the spell on Tanya somehow. She had to get home… to safety….

But nowhere was safe.

(Don't you understand?) The voice was soft and insidious in her ear. (David can never really be like you until he's died the way you have. We have to make him die—)

“No!” She realized she was speaking aloud again. “Stop talking to me! Go away!”

David was staring at her. “Gillian—”

(I don't want to hurt you, Gillian. Only him. And he'll come back, I promise. He might be a little different. But he'll still love you.)

Different…
David's body
. Angel wanted David's body. As David left, Angel would take possession….

They were almost home. But she couldn't get away from the voice. How do you get away from something that's
in your own mind
? She couldn't shut it out….

(Just let go, Gillian. Let me take over. I'll drive for you. I love you, Gillian.)

“No!” She was panting, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurt. The word came out jerkily. “David! You have to drive. I can't—”