Milayna (8 page)

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and slowly, and I mean
slow-ly
, looked me up and down. “You look fine,” he said matter-of-factly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks, I think.”

“I got the feeling something was wrong. I’m just checking on you two.”

I fiddled with the strap of my messenger bag and tried not to stare. “Oh, well, thanks, but everything is fine here.”

Now go away. You make me feel weird. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. Or maybe I do? Either way, shoo.

“You had a vision?”

“Yes.” I shifted my weight and put my hand on my hip.

“It’s gone?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stared at him. He didn’t break eye contact with me, which made me feel uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure why. Finally, I answered, “Yes.”

He nodded, pushed off the wall, and walked away.

“Hey! Wait, how’d you know?” I yelled after him.

He didn’t turn around. I stood and stared—he looked pretty good from that angle, too. Coming or going, he was definitely easy on the eyes.

When Chay was out of view, I turned to Muriel.

“Wow, Milayna, I think he has a thing for you,” she teased.

“Stop,” I said with a giggle, nudging her shoulder with mine.

“Seriously, I think that’s the most I’ve heard him talk since I met him.”

“He just seems quiet. And wait.” I looked at her with an arched brow. “I thought you said you didn’t know him?” I asked as we walked out of the school.

“I only know him because he’s a demi, and anyway, I couldn’t tell you until the group made sure you were okay with everything. I met him when he transferred to our school. He started showing signs, so his parents sent him here so he could be with other DAs.”

“DAs?”

“Demi-angels.” She flicked the back of my head and smiled. “Goofball.”

“Ah, I should have figured that one out.” I threw my messenger bag in the backseat of Muriel’s car and tilted my head. “When did you show signs?”

Muriel looked at me over the roof of the car. “About a month and a half before my eighteenth birthday, just like you.”

“Ah, right about the time you had Mono and couldn’t come to school for three weeks.” I arched an eyebrow, and she grinned.

We climbed into the car, and I reached for the seatbelt. “Is everyone else eighteen?”

“Everyone but you.” Muriel started the car and looked at me. “When your birthday gets here, we’ll all be stronger. And it can’t happen soon enough.”

Five weeks, five days until my birthday.

I worked a two-hour shift after swim practice, and then a friend from the bakery drove me home. When I unlocked the door and walked into the house, it was unusually quiet—I was alone. Dad had to work late, and Mom was out with friends. And my brother, Ben, was at Grams’.

Generally, I didn’t mind being alone. I kinda liked it. I could read, watch something other than cartoons on television, and get takeout for dinner. It was pure bliss. But that night was different. I was edgy, full of restless energy.

I swayed on the old, wooden swing on the back deck, watching the clouds float across the dying sun. The sky was filled with streaks of reds and oranges—it almost made it look on fire.

The breeze shifted toward me, carrying a smell that made me wrinkle my nose. It smelled like something was burning—tinged with something else.

What is that smell? It’s putrid.

Not long after the smell, I noticed a change in temperature. The cool night turned warm, and I started sweating under my sweatshirt. I could feel my hair sticking to the back of my neck.

I was looking at the floor of the deck, fanning the back of my neck with my hand, when I heard a puff of air. Looking up, I saw a puff of smoke in the yard a few feet from the deck. When the smoke cleared, I saw a small figure about the size of a toddler standing in the grass. It was short and fat with stumpy legs under a big, round belly. Its skin was red, and it had a shock of black hair standing atop its oval head. I jumped backward against the swing, a little scream coming out of my mouth.

What in the hell…?

I rubbed my eyes with my fists and looked again. It was still there, staring at me.

I’m dreaming. This is too out there. Wake up. Wake up now!

As if my life wasn’t weird enough already, the short, fat thing spoke, its ruby, bulbous lips bouncing. “Hi, Milayna,” it said, its voice high pitched like a little girl’s.

I stood up so fast that the swing flung out behind me, hitting the house. The pipsqueak kept still, smoke curling around its body. The strong smell of something burning nearly suffocated me, and the temperature had risen another few degrees. I was sweating heavily, my sweatshirt damp.

What? What—oh, damn. Oh, no. That’s not real. No. That can’t be real.

I inched toward the door, keeping my eye on the thing in my yard. I had to call my dad. Then I had to call the police and tell them… what? A little red man popped into my backyard? No, I needed my dad.

Another pop sounded and I jumped with a scream. I slapped my hand over my mouth and watched the smoke billow and float away, revealing another creature much like the first. Their red skin against the green lawn made them look like peculiar Christmas decorations, and the smell reminded me of scorched meat.

The creatures were alike in almost every way, except the second had a scar running down the left side of his face, from his ear to the corner of his mouth. He also seemed grumpier.

“She doesn’t speak,” the first weird gnome-like creature said to Scarface.

“We don’t need her to speak. We just need to bring her back,” Scarface answered. He waved me away with both hands and then put his fists on his hips. “Then we can go home and get away from this horrid place. It’s too cold up here.”

I stared at them as they talked, my eyes moving between them like I was following the ball in a tennis match. My mouth was open, and my mind whirred as it tried to process the scene.

What. The. Freakin’. Hell. Is. Going. On?

“Milayna.”

I thought it was the one of the creatures talking, but realized the voice was lower, smoother—not an ear-piercing squeal.

“What?” I didn’t want to take my eyes off my uninvited visitors, but I glanced toward the gate where the voice came from.

“Go inside.”

I wasn’t sure why I listened to the person—I didn’t even know who it was for sure—but I did as he asked.

Once inside, I stood by the patio door and peered out of the window. The red—whatever they were—wandered around and walked through my mother’s flowerbeds. Scarface plucked blooms from the plants, inspected them, and crushed the flowers into the ground. He then tried to climb a tree, cursing violently when his stumpy legs were too short.

An ear-piercing sound sliced through the air. I cringed and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My gaze swung to the other creature. It was laughing as it pushed the swings on the swing set. It climbed up the ladder to the cyclone slide my brother loved so much, took a leap, and slid down. Its cackling echoed off the walls of the slide until he came out the other end and plopped on his ass.

“Milayna,” Scarface called, “we’re getting tired of waiting. Come out and play with us.”

I took a step back from the window where I’d been watching them. The first creature pressed his nose against the glass and looked at me. “I can see you,” it sang.

Movement caught my eye. I turned and saw Chay round the corner. The weird red men froze. Their faces turned demonic as their eyes grew wide and glassy black, and their lips pulled back against their yellowish-brown teeth. They watched Chay’s movements closely.

“Chay,” Scarface said.

“What are you doing here?” Chay asked, his voice hard.

“Ah, don’t worry, we’re just looking around. There are so many fun things to do at Milayna’s house.” Scarface laughed, an ugly, garish laugh, and I cringed.

Chay hooked his thumb around his belt loop and leaned casually on one leg. “Leave.”

“We’re not done playing,” the friendlier one said.

“Leave or I’ll send you back.”

“Tsk, tsk, Chay. You really need to work on your temper. Angels are supposed to be passive.” Scarface brushed one finger over the other in a shame, shame gesture.

“I’m only half angel.” They slowly backed up as Chay advanced on them. He seemed apathetic, bored even. “I’m only going to ask you nicely one more time. Leave.”

“Make us,” the friendly one said, sticking his tongue out like a child.

My hands were damp with sweat, and I ran them up and down my thighs. I watched as Chay walked toward whatever the hell the red things were. It was hard to breathe. I felt like I’d just run the Boston Marathon in an hour. I couldn’t catch my breath.

This isn’t possible. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown or something, because this is just way too bizarre. What are those things?

Biting my bottom lip, I watched as Chay grabbed them by the back of their necks and knocked them together. Their heads clunked, making a thud so loud I could hear it in the house. He let go, and their fat little bodies fell to the ground.

A bright flash of light lit the yard, and I had to shield my eyes. When it dimmed, the red mini-trolls were gone, leaving behind nothing but two puffs of smoke and the same putrid smell I’d noticed before they popped in. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand to stifle it.

Chay jogged up the deck stairs two at a time. He didn’t wait for an invitation to come inside; he just opened the door and walked into the house, brushing ash off his jacket.

I looked over his shoulder and peered into the backyard. It was still empty. Other than the trampled flowers and the swaying swings, there was no sign that the freaky red things had been there.

“Um, you want to tell me what the hell just happened? What were those things?” I looked up at Chay. I was gonna lose it any second, and it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

“Hobgoblins,” he said.

“And?” I asked slowly.

“They’re harmless for the most part.”

“But hobgoblins are the cute and likeable mischief makers of fairy tales. They’re not spawn from Hell!”

“The fairy tales got it wrong. They usually do.”

“What did they want?” I stood by the kitchen sink and looked out of the window. My bottom lip between my teeth, I bit it harder waiting for his answer. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be one I liked. And for once, just once, since this started, it would be nice to get some good news.

“You.”

“Oh. Will they come back?” I had butterflies in my stomach, and not the lovey-dovey kind. The
I’m-officially-freaked-out-and-scared-shitless
kind.

He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. “Probably not.”

Probably not. I was just visited by fat little demons from Hell, and he says they
probably
won’t come back.

“What do you mean probably? I’m really not all that comfortable with
‘probably’
.” I said, using air quotes—which was funny since I hated it when people did that. “I’d like to be ready next time.”

“They were just messengers for Azazel.”

I stared and waited for him to elaborate. It wasn’t hard, actually. Staring at him. He was handsome in an understated way. Not movie-star handsome like Jake, but definitely swoon-worthy. He had a strong jaw, full lips, and a golden complexion that was clear except for a slight scar on the left side of his chin, which only added more character to his wicked handsome face. Add to that the most beautiful blue-green eyes I’d ever seen all framed by dark, almost black, hair. And don’t even get me started on his body—yeah, staring at him was easy. Talking to him, or at least getting him to talk, was a bitch.

“And?” I crossed my arms.

“They were just seeing if you were alone.”

“I was.”

He leaned his back against the wall. “You’re not now.”

“What would they have done if you hadn’t come over?” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. The temperature had returned to normal, but I was chilled even with my sweatshirt on.

Do you get cold when you’re in shock? Consider me sufficiently shocked. Mini demons in my backyard. I
so
didn’t sign up for this.

“They would have summoned some demons or Azazel.”

An icy finger ran down my spine and seemed to coil inside me. I shivered and wrapped my sweatshirt tighter around me.

“Why are you here?”

“You should be glad I am,” Chay answered. His tone was neutral, never changing.

“I am. I mean, I wouldn’t have known what to do with the hobgoblins without help. But, where did you come from and how did you know to come?”

“I live on the next street.”

“And?”

Why can’t he just finish an answer without me squeezing it out of him?

“I smelled the sulfur and knew something was coming.”

“Thanks.” I scrunched my nose. “That smell is nasty.”

“When will someone be here?” He looked out of the window.

“My dad should be here any minute.”

Chay nodded and walked outside. I followed. He sat on the porch swing. “I’ll wait.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs, his hands hanging between his knees.

“Okay.” I wished he’d just leave. He made me feel uncomfortable. But considering he’d just saved me from two little red men, I was glad he hung around. I was still standing next to the door, my hand on the knob, when my dad pulled into the driveway minutes later. I heard his car door slam shut. “I think my dad’s home.”

“Later.” He stood and walked away, cutting through my backyard and jumping the fence to get to his street without a backward glance.

Weird. Very weird.

Chay definitely had the uncanny ability to set me on edge. He made me feel off-balance. I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking, and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming in his answers.

I heard my dad come into the house and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to stow his junk in the mudroom. When he walked into the kitchen, I let loose.

“What are hobgoblins, and how come you didn’t warn me about them?” My voice came out quieter than I’d expected. I thought I’d be upset because he didn’t tell me about them before they showed up, but I was exhausted. Seeing little demon creatures swinging on my swing set was about enough excitement for one night.

“Hobgoblins?” He froze in place. “They’ve been here?”

“Yeah.”

“And what’d you do?” he asked. He started moving again, going from window to window and looking outside before he pulled the blinds closed.