Intuition: The Premonition Series (26 page)

I sigh heavily, not wantin’ to have this conversation now, but resolvin’ to get it out of the way, I say, “Y’all have to eat, Red. I’m sorry it’s not oatmeal, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“I’m not hungry, Hank,” she murmurs.

“Well, pretend that ya are and get it down ‘cuz I need ya and I can’t have y’all starvin’ yerself ‘cuz yer sad. I hate to admit it, but yer stronger than me and I’m gonna need yer help if we get spotted by an angel,” I say, reasonin’ with her before I take a bite of my food and smile ‘cuz it is delicious.

Chewin’, I watch her take a small bite of her pasty and chew it slowly, mechanically. I manage to eat three pasties in the time it takes Red to eat a half of one, but I don’t rag her yet, since she looks like she is really tryin’ to eat it.

Neither one of us speaks again until we reach Escanaba. I keep watchin’ the gas gauge on the car go down, knowin’ we are gonna have to stop for gas. With no credit card, we will have to pay with cash and that means goin’ in the gas station. The feelin’ of unease settles in my stomach.
Maybe I can find a full service station or one that doesn’t have a convenience store attached to it,
I tell myself, scannin’ the streets for somewhere to fuel up. I know it’s stupid to be afraid of somethin’ as ordinary as a gas station, but the thought of goin’ in one of these places now, after bein’ in the 7-Eleven with fallen angels and watchin’ them dismember those people, makes me feel like ice is formin’ in my stomach.

It’s dark out now, and since the fuel light is indicatin’ that I have run out of time to find a full-service gas station, I pull up to a self-service pump and get out to pump the gas. After stickin’ the nozzle of the pump in the tank, I walk back to the driver’s side door and stick my head back in the car. “I don’t suppose we have anythin’ other than cash to pay for the gas?” I ask as casually as I can. She shakes her head no and I grimace. “Shoot,” I mutter, rubbin’ my sweaty hands on my jeans. She’s pale, too. “God, we’re a pair, aren’t we?” I ask, tryin’ to smile at her as the pump keeps tollin’ the price of our gas like it is tickin’ out the last few seconds of my life. “We’re both terrified of florescent lights and snack aisles.”

“I hate the glass refrigerators and the coffee machines as much as the snack aisles,” she says, attemptin’ humor.

“I bet ya do,” I reply, ‘cuz Buns had told me how Alfred had thrown Red through the glass door of one of the refrigerators in the 7-Eleven before he had dragged her over to me. That’s how her wing was broken. Reed had to re-break it when she was unconscious ‘cuz it had healed wrong. When I asked Buns how she knew that, she told me that one of the souls told her how it all went down. The souls would know ‘cuz they were there, too, I think, shiverin’. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this one,” I say as the pump clicks off, tellin’ me that my time is up. Just then, somethin’ funny moves across my back and I look over my shoulder to see what is touchin’ me. Nothin’ is there.

I shut the door softly and turn to remove the nozzle from the tank. Dread is eatin’ me alive as I screw the cap back on the tank and shut the latch. I walk ‘round the car toward the double doors. Sweat trickles down the side of my face when I push weakly against the glass door, starin’ at the ground as I enter the store.

“Ahh, hell,” I mutter as I imagine blood stainin’ the floor. I have to hesitate just inside the doorway to steady myself as the room spins on me like a freakin’ tilt-a-whirl. I clench my teeth, tryin’ to focus on movin’ forward toward the clerk. There are a couple of people in line at the counter. I walk by them, pacin’, so that I won’t just bolt back out the door.

“Did ja see da baseball game o’er at da high school there, Joe?” The clerk asks his customer, not even botherin’ to ring up the items on the counter. He is makin’ small talk like they’re at a tea party or somethin’.

Joe leans on the counter like he is settlin’ in and says, “No, how’d da boys do, eh?”

As I pace down the aisle near the back of the store, a shootin’ pain tears up my back, makin’ me clutch the top of the snack shelf near me. Lookin ‘round the store, I panic even more ‘cuz I’m nowhere near the front door and escape.

“Ah, da boys did good. Da Eskymos were down for a while, but they fought back, doncha know?” the clerk says slowly as he scratches his chin, watchin’ the expression on Joe’s face.

Another shootin’ pain strikes me and it registers in my head that the pain is comin’ from inside of me, not outside. Seein’ that I’m near the bathroom, I manage to turn and run to the door just as a grotesque poppin’ and crackin’ sound resonates in my ears. I slam the door closed behind me, gaspin’ as somethin’ punches it’s way out of my back. It knocks all the wind out of me. I lock the door before I spin ‘round to see my jacket and shirt lyin’ in tatters on the bathroom floor. Lookin’ in the mirror directly across from where I’m standin’, I see my reflection and nearly shout, “LORD! What are ya DOIN’ to me now?”

Bright red wings are spreadin’ out ‘round me like a matador’s cape. I just stand there, starin’ at myself in the mirror, not believin’ what I’m seein’. “I’m a Seraph all right,” I say under my breath to my reflection as I shake my head. My wings aren’t as big as Reed’s or Zee’s, but they are definitely much bigger than Red’s. I try to move my new crimson appendages, but they won’t budge at all.

“Ahh, naw! Naw, naw, naw, naw, naw…” I say, panickin’ again as I realize the situation I’m in. I’m locked in a convenience store bathroom, in the middle of an escape from the angels, in the heart of the U.P., at night, with Red waitin’ outside all alone for me to come out, and somewhere in Heaven, there are freakin’ Cherubim, laughin’ their asses off while countin’ out my sins.

Turnin’ on the faucet, I run my hands under the cold water, splashin’ it on my face while tryin’ to calm down. Everyone is always tellin’ Red that her wings won’t go back in when she’s panickin’ or worrin’ ’bout somethin’.
I just have to relax,
I coach myself as I jump ‘round, tryin’ to work off a little bit of the adrenaline coursin’ through my body. After ’bout fifteen minutes of pacin’ the bathroom, I am beginnin’ to calm down a little, so I grasp the counter in front of me with both hands, bowin’ my head as I concentrate really hard on tryin’ to move my wings. I look up hopefully, but they are still there in the mirror when I catch sight of my reflection.

“Damn. Okay,” I say, lookin’ up at the ceilin’ helplessly. “I can use a little help here, please.”

Immediately there is a knock on the bathroom door and Red’s shaky voice sounds from behind it. “Hank, you in there?”

Scramblin’ over to the door, I unlock it. I open it just a little and pull her through the doorway by her arm. Then, I slam it shut behind her, lockin’ it again.

Her face is as white as milk, probably from her struggle to enter the store, but I can tell that is nothin’ compared to the shock of seein’ me with wings stickin’ out of my back. “Russell, you’re a freakin’ angel!” she gasps as her hand shakes while she reaches out to touch my wing that flutters on its own when her fingers make contact with it.

“Yeah, whaddaya know?” I breathe, ‘cuz I had no idea how nice it would feel to have her stroke my wing like that. “Slight problem, though. I can’t get ‘em to go back in.”

Her brow wrinkles. “Uh oh!” she breathes, understandin’ my problem immediately. “Okay, this has happened to me a couple of times, too. Let me think for a second,” she says, while she continues to pet my wing in a comfortin’ way. “I would tell you to relax, but I know that doesn’t help at all,” she says, thinkin’. “Wait here a second, I’ll be right back.” She unlocks the door. She is gone and back in less time than it takes me to exhale.

“Here,” she says, handin’ me a bottle of whiskey that is still sealed.

“Where’d this come from?” I ask as I break the seal and put the bottle to my lips, takin’ a deep sip and feelin’ it burn down my throat.

“I just knicked it from behind the counter,” she replies, and I choke a little on my second sip. “Don’t worry, he never saw me take it.”

“Yeah, but the Cherubim are makin’ another notch on your naughty side,” I retort, takin’ another sip of the whiskey.

“I’ll risk it,” she says in true troublemaker fashion. “I left money on the counter.”

“So, this whiskey is supposed to get my wings to go back in?” I ask as I chug a little more of the liquor and feel it burn a little less than before.

A look of hesitation crosses her face. “Not exactly,” she says. “It’s kinda a two part thing. Just keep drinking, and then I’ll show you the rest in a few minutes,” she adds cryptically. “What happened?” she asks.

“Let’s just say it was harder than I thought it was gonna be comin’ in here,” I reply evasively.

“Yeah…I was freaked waiting for you. I thought you’d ran into Gaspard for sure,” she says, turnin’ paler still. I hand her the whiskey. She takes a small sip of it, coughin’ a little when she hands it back.

“I thought I was supposed to be able to run fast before I got my wings,” I say while my eyes search hers.

She bites her lower lip. “I don’t know, Russell—Hank, maybe you can run like me, maybe you just needed fear, initially, to kick it in. Mine kicked in when I was running from the Delts. Your wings popped out because you are freaked about coming in here. We can try to run later, okay?” she asks in an anxious tone.

“Yeah, okay,” I agree, before sippin’ more whiskey.

“You really are something, though,” she says, walkin’ ‘round me like she is proud of me. “I’m so jealous—your wings are so much bigger than mine.”

“Thank God for that. I would look really stupid with your delicate wings. They look perfect on you, but on me, with my big body, I would look ridiculous,” I say gratefully. If I have to have them, at least they don’t make me look disproportionate.

“I never stopped to imagine you with wings. It’s funny, but they look like they belong there—like they have always belonged there,” she says as if she is in awe or somethin’.

I shrug. “I’ll be stoked later when they work and I can use them. Right now, they’re a pain in the ass.” I reply, but a part of me is psyched that Red likes them so much. It makes me feel better ’bout havin’ them. I take another deep swallow of the whiskey, watchin’ her standin’ on the side of me, playin’ with one of my feathers, which is the strangest thing to watch, let alone feel.

“Okay, that’s enough whiskey, I think,” Red says tensely, not lookin’ at my eyes. She drops her hand from my wing, steppin’ behind me to sit on the counter in front of the mirror. She holds out her hand to me and says, “Give me the whiskey.” I hand her the bottle and she takes another sip of it before placin’ the bottle on the counter beside her. Lookin’ up at me with her beautiful, gray eyes, she whispers, “Come here.”

“Why?” I ask her in confusion, but I step closer to where she is seated on the counter. She looks scared and embarrassed as she takes my hand in hers and places it on her waist, pullin’ me forward so that I stand between her legs.

My heart begins poundin’ in my chest, feelin’ the warmth of her skin through her shirt. She takes my other hand, positionin’ it on her other side. The scent of her skin is hittin’ me like waves of heat risin’ off of hot pavement. Her scent is incredible and my hands tense as I grip her tighter. Reachin’ up slowly, she wraps her arms ‘round my neck and gently pulls me down to her. I can hardly breathe when her lips brush mine, soft and sweet. Then, somethin’ snaps inside of me, like a restraint that I’m always controllin’ when I’m near her comes undone. Pickin’ her up off the counter, I hold her to me, devourin’ her lips with mine. I want to possess her—please her—feel every inch of her body on mine.

Her lips leave mine for a brief moment as she whispers in my ear, “Pull me closer to you, Russell.” Unbelievable passion ignites in me as I kiss her neck, causin’ her to shiver in my arms. Pullin’ her tighter to me, I press her back against the wall, before findin’ her lips once again. There is somethin’ in the way she said my name that makes me want her to say it again.

My hand slips down her back and over the curves of her body. A small groan escapes me as my hand comes back up to her hip, brushin’ against her bare skin where her shirt rides up. Just when I am ready to remove her irritatin’ shirt, Red starts pullin’ away from me. I glance at her face to see her fingers pressed to her swollen lips, confusion is cloudin’ her eyes when she says, “You did it. Let’s go.”

“Do wut?” I ask, not lettin’ go of her as she presses her hands gently against my chest, pushin’ me back from her.

She clears her throat, not lookin’ me in the eyes and says, “Your wings, they are back in. Let’s go. I’ll go pay for the gas and get you a new shirt,” she pushes harder than I am expectin’ and breaks free from my embrace. I watch her slip out of the bathroom door as it gently closes behind her.

I turn ‘round and look in the mirror. My wings are gone and I’m back to lookin’ human again.
How the hell did that happen?

My heart is still drummin’ in my chest as I walk up to the sink and turn the faucet on again. I splash some cold water on my face, lookin’ at my reflection in the mirror again. Seein’ the whiskey bottle on the counter, I grab it and drink another big gulp.
Lord, that is harsh,
I think.
Being so close to her like that and havin’ to stop is harder than never havin’ started in the first place. Painful. I feel burned… scorched on the inside.

Then I think again of the kiss I just shared with her and it is like my blood is runnin’ free in my veins. I feel like I can pick up a car and chuck it, like I can do anythin’ and everythin’ I never thought possible. I jump when Red sticks her head in the bathroom again briefly and throws a long sleeved t-shirt at me like a missile while sayin’, “Sorry, this is all they have. I’ll meet you in the car.