Dark Hope (24 page)

Michael roared, a primal sound torn from his gut, as he brought the flaming sword down on Lucas’s head. My hands flew to my eyes.

Then, nothing. Nothing but the sound of Michael’s ragged breathing. His gasps for breath echoed about the cavernous room for what seemed like ages.

I slid two fingers apart to peek. There was no flame. No sword. No body, no evidence that Lucas had even been here. Only Michael. Ordinary Michael, teenage boy, looking for all the world as if he had done nothing more than run a hard sprint in PE.

He barely looked at me.

“Let’s go,” he said in a businesslike tone, striding toward the staircase.

I dropped my hands, staring after him. Run, I told myself, but my legs wouldn’t move.

“Hope,” Michael said, an edge to his voice as he turned to look at me, one foot already poised on the first step. “I said, let’s go. You don’t have a choice about this anymore.”

I opened my mouth, a smart retort in mind, but all that came out was a foreign keening that made even my own hair stand on end. My hands flew up, trying to stop the sound from escaping my throat, but it just grew louder, and I began to shake.

Michael rubbed his brow. “Shock,” he muttered, expecting no answer. “You’re in shock.”

I kept wailing. He covered the distance between us in a few strides and pulled me down to the ground, squatting next to me as he held me by the shoulders. I couldn’t make myself move away from him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he soothed, brushing his warm thumb against my hairline. The unexpected gentleness of his gesture made me wail all the louder.

“Shhhh,” he urged. “Shhhh.” Then, carefully, he pulled me into his vast embrace. I tried to push away, but he only held me tighter until, defeated, I gave in. His impassive chest absorbed the great sobs that racked my body, his heat enveloping me and sinking down into my core. I howled against him until my throat was too sore to make any sound, and then I shook in silent agony. Slowly, slowly, my body gave up its grief, the spasms of anger and fear gradually succumbing to hiccups and sniffles.

He tilted my chin up. Through swollen eyes, I could see him inspecting me. Finally, satisfied by what he saw, he deposited me on the ground again and backed away, rising to his full height.

“Better?”

I watched him, nodding warily.

“Good,” he said, looking quickly through the broken roof at the sky. “It will be dawn soon. We need to leave here unobserved. Lucas’s crew won’t be looking for him yet, so we have the advantage.” He paused. “Do you understand what I am saying, Hope?”

I shook my head numbly. Nothing made any sense anymore.

He grunted with barely concealed impatience. “We’re running away from the city, Hope. You and me. And we need to get out of here.
Now
.”

I looked at him with disbelief as he stood over me, stretching to his full height.

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with,” I demanded.

His cheeks flushed. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and kicked at the dirt.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said tersely. He reached down, pulled me up by the armpits, and shoved me toward the stairs. “Now, walk.”

I somehow managed to stumble back through the factory. I kept darting glances into the shadows as Michael marched me back to my mother’s car, looking for a chance to escape, but none came. When we stopped at the car, I wordlessly handed the keys to Michael when he held out his palm. I’d lost whatever opportunity I’d had. In the passenger seat, I pressed my cheek against the cold glass and looked at the leafless trees that had stood sentinel all night. In dawn’s first blush, they seemed reassuringly normal, shrinking in the distance as we pulled away.

Normal. How could anything be normal after what had just happened? I wanted it all to go away: my aching body, my raw throat, and especially my lingering terror. I longed for the oblivion of sleep—sleep in my own bed—hoping I would wake up and find this was all a dream, that Michael was still just my normal teenage friend. But instead of turning north through the city and toward home, Michael steered the Audi away from Atlanta.

“Where are we going?” I asked, a tremor in my voice.

“To the airport,” he said, offering no further information.

Ask him why
, Henri urged.

Funny you should show up now, after all the fun is over
, I snapped back at him in my mind. When Henri didn’t rise to the bait, I sighed and shifted in my seat so I could better watch Michael.

“Why are we running away?” I demanded.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, deciding whether or not he should answer me. “Now that they know you are here, the Fallen Ones will hunt you down.”

“So you’re going to protect me?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“Yes,” he replied coolly, never taking his eyes from the road.

“Why should I believe you?” I challenged, straining against the
safety belt. “Why should I believe you when all you’ve done is lie to me?”

Careful, girl
, the voice warned. I watched as Michael clutched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white.
He can be pushed too far
.

“I told you the truth about protecting you,” Michael said. “I didn’t know about the Mark.”

Lucas had warned me that Michael would say that. I could barely stand knowing that Lucas had been right, could barely stand knowing that in this upside-down, mixed-up world, Lucas might actually have been on my side. I knew I was in danger, but some crazy impulse drove me on. With nothing to lose, I unleashed my anger upon Michael, almost daring him to finally turn against me.

“And now that you know? That changes everything, doesn’t it? Now you’re going to take me away and kill me. What are you going to do? Dump my body in some alley? Bury me in a desert somewhere? Or am I going to go up in flames and disappear like Lucas did?”

A muscle in his jaw spasmed. Michael took a deep breath through his nose, holding it for several seconds before allowing it to escape through a giant, controlled exhale. He chose his next words carefully, articulating them slowly with the effort of controlling his temper.

“If you give me a chance, I can explain it all to you. Lucas was right about many things, but he was wrong about one very crucial aspect of this … situation.”

“I’m listening,” I said, crossing my arms.

He glanced to his left, swiftly changing lanes.

“You aren’t the Key. Your Mark says you are the
bearer
of the Key.”

I thought back to that night at Tabitha’s and remembered her translation. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is everything. Without the Key, you are harmless, and the Prophecy cannot be fulfilled.”

I turned this new information over in my mind. “And Lucas didn’t know this?”

The corners of Michael’s mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. “His Aramaic must have been a little rusty.”

I fell back in my seat, my head spinning. “So if I’m not the Key, why are we running away?”

“They
think
you’re the Key. So that means two things. One: it means they will stop at nothing to reclaim you. The only way to keep you safe is to keep you moving. And two: as long as they think that
you
are the Key, it means they aren’t looking for the
real
Key. Which means that if we can find it first, we can destroy it.”

“Destroy it,” I echoed. I let my gaze drift out the window, my mind wandering as the early morning lights of South Atlanta flashed by. I wondered if it was even possible to destroy something that had been foreseen so long ago.

“If you destroy me, then there is no Bearer. Is there?”

The question hung in the silence of the car. Michael did not answer.

“And then the Prophecy couldn’t be fulfilled, either.”

I didn’t ask him to confirm what I already knew. Instead, I huddled in my seat, my feet tucked under me, exhaustion pushing me finally into a merciful sleep.

I finally woke up as we turned a curve and came into the airport, my head still resting against the cool window.

“What if I don’t want to go with you?” I asked, looking through the glass at the airport. “What if I tell the gate agents you’re taking me against my will?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to go with me?” he asked—but not with his own voice. Wearily, I turned my head to see the figure of my father sitting behind the wheel of the car, looking at me with bemusement. “I’m sure your mother won’t mind if we take a little trip.”

My mind immediately began generating objections—violation of custody agreements, failure to procure the appropriate authorizations and paperwork—but I forced myself to stop. It was useless, and I knew it. He would find a way to take me.

Tears stung my eyes as I remembered that morning in my bedroom, the first time I’d seen him change into someone else before my very eyes.

“You promised me. You promised me you’d never do that without my permission,” I said, the bitterness of his empty promise almost making me sick.

“You left me no choice,” he said.

“I have no choice, either, do I,” I stated, my voice expressionless. A lone tear trickled down my face and splashed onto my hand.

“No. You really don’t,” he echoed as he pulled my mother’s car into the long-term parking lot.

After steering the Audi into an empty space, he turned to me. Inside the fleshy face of my aging father, I could see Michael’s icy blue eyes. They were full of determination and not much else.

“Come with me,” he asked, holding out his hand.

I stared at his hand, not sure what to do.

Go with him
.

I paused. The last time Henri had urged me to go somewhere, I’d ended up in the middle of a death match between Lucas and Michael.

Go
, Henri whispered again.
If he means to harm you, you will never escape him, no matter how far you run. And if he is telling the truth, it may be your only chance. Not just yours. The world’s
.

I hadn’t really thought about what would happen if the Fallen Ones reclaimed Heaven. Would it be the start of the Apocalypse, or something even worse? I began to shake at the gravity of my choice. Around me, a few harried businessmen and women scurried about, running to make their early morning flights, oblivious to the destruction that was hanging over their heads.

What if I chose wrong?

I looked once more into Michael’s eyes within my father’s face, but this time I saw something else. They seemed clear and untroubled. Even confident.
Damn him
, I thought.
Damn them all
.

I gripped the edge of my seat, trying to steady my quivering body. Slowly, still not trusting him, I clasped Michael’s outstretched hand—my father’s hand.

A flood of warmth ran from my fingertips and up my arm. I could feel it creeping slowly across my face and into my middle, where it made me feel funny. I looked up, hoping to find some confidence in the familiar gaze of Michael’s eyes, but the stony look on his face stopped me short. Confused, I snatched my hand away.

“Where are we going?” I demanded, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.

“Las Vegas,” Michael answered, reaching into the backseat and thrusting my backpack at me.

I looked at the pack, stuffed full. With a quick glance I saw that it held a few items of clothing and toiletries. “You had planned this all along,” I accused, my heart sinking.

“Not this way,” he responded tersely. “And for a different reason.”

He paused, waiting for my curiosity to kick in, but I kept my eyes glued on the little name tag that dangled off my backpack. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his betrayal had affected me.

I heard him give an exasperated sigh. Giving up, he pushed
himself out of the car and came around to my side. He opened my door, and when I didn’t move he brusquely unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out.

We were alone in the garage. Without waiting for me to follow, he stalked off toward the terminal. “If you care anything for your father, you’ll do what I say.”

“My father?” I asked dumbly, scurrying to catch up with him.

Michael slowed his pace, but did not stop. “We have a few days, maybe a week, until your mother arrives home and discovers you are missing. Right?”

I nodded, unsure where he was headed.

“That is a few days for us to get ahead of the Fallen; a few days for us to lay a false trail. The Key is ancient. I don’t know what it is, or where it is, but I know that it is not here in North America.”

I was jogging to keep up with him as we neared the lights of the terminal.

“We’re going to have to leave without tipping anyone off to where we are going. If we’re conspicuous enough to get picked up by all the security cameras in Vegas, we’ll have the police and the Fallen focusing their time there while we get a head start.”

I drew in my breath. “You mean to set my father up for kidnapping.”

He shot me a sideways glance. “Your mother will believe it, won’t she?”

The truth in what he said—and the injustice of it—shot me like an arrow. I remembered my father handing me a burrito from the restaurant he managed now, playing with his hat. I envisioned him being led off to jail, his wrists in cuffs.