Milayna's Angel (33 page)

“What things?”

“I… it’s me—”

“Oh, don’t give me that
‘it’s not you,
it’s me’
crap. If you’re going to tell me there’s no chance for
us, then at least come up with a better excuse than that.”

“I have my reasons,” he said, and I shoved
his arm away.

“Milayna,” Friendly called.

“What?” I snapped.

“Wanna play?”

“No.”

“Abaddon does,” Scarface said. “He’s here.
It’s time. Right, Chay?”

“Go back to Hell,” Chay ground out, taking a
step toward the hobgoblins. They disappeared with a laugh.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know.” Chay rubbed his hand over the
back of his head. I knew he was lying. Whatever was going on with
him was about to come to an end. Whatever he was hiding was about
to be revealed.

Is he working for Abaddon? Is he the one the
goblins keep telling me is coming? Is he the one Abaddon sent to
kill me?

***

That night, Rod and Jake stood in the
shadows, staring at the house like they had nearly every night. I
stood at the picture window, looking back at them. I had been
sleeping soundly—no nightmares for a change—but something woke me.
I knew they’d be there. I could sense their presence. Evil.

Chay was also out there. I could hear the
boards creak as he paced the porch. I watched him walk by the
window. He didn’t know I was there, or if he did, he didn’t
acknowledge me.

Walking to the door, I unlocked it. I knew it
was a bad idea, but I wanted to be with him. After the warnings of
the hobgoblins, I should’ve known not to let him in. I ignored the
part of my brain that told me I was being an idiot and stuck my
head out the storm door.

“Chay. Come inside.”

He looked at me so long that I thought he was
going to say no, but he nodded once and walked to the door. I moved
so he could walk inside without touching me.

“Thanks. It’s freezing out there.”

I shut the door after him and sat down on the
couch. He followed, sitting next to me. Our thighs brushed against
each other. I turned to tell him to scoot over—there was plenty of
room on the couch, so he didn’t need to sit so close to me. But
that wasn’t what I did. Instead, when I looked at him, I reached
out, grabbed his face, and pulled it to me. I kissed him—he kissed
back.

My hands dropped from his face to his
shoulders, sliding down his arms and down his thighs. He groaned
and leaned forward, putting his hand behind my neck, holding me to
him.

“Chay…” I sighed when he placed an
openmouthed kiss on my neck, his tongue gliding across my skin.

I pulled back, getting on my knees. Moving
myself onto his lap, I put one leg on each side of him. I lowered
myself against him. I could feel him against me, leaving no
question what his body craved from me. Pushing his shirt up, I ran
my fingers over his chest, lower to his abs, and lower still,
pulling a low groan from him.

Our kisses grew bolder, harder, almost
desperate. He skimmed his hands under my shirt and up my spine,
before moving them around me and skimming his fingertips against
the sides of my breasts. I gasped and shivered.

His mouth never left mine. Cupping my rear,
he rolled me onto my back. He leaned over me, kissing me deeply,
his tongue slipping between my lips and tangled with mine. His hand
ran up and down the inside of my leg. It tickled in all the right
places and I arched toward him, losing myself in the haze of
longing, wanting him to keep kissing me, touching me… and then I
felt the click of a snap and reality slammed into me, stealing my
breath.

I knew I was in trouble.

I scrambled out from under him, falling on
the floor. Standing, I backed away. I should have screamed, but my
voice wouldn’t work. Maybe it was shock or disbelief. Either way, I
stood staring at him as he slowly climbed off the couch, my dagger
in his hand.

It happened much like in my visions. He
advanced on me, the dagger twirling in his hand. Light from the
streetlights outside glinted off the blade.

“Chay,” I whispered.

His eyes were vacant, glazed over like a drug
addict high on his poison of choice. He didn’t acknowledge me.

“Chay,” I yelled, trying to break through the
trance-like state he was in. He blinked. A flash of recognition
sparked in his eyes before they dulled, and he continued taking
small steps toward me.

My eyes dropped to the knife and back to his.
“You don’t have to do this. Fight it, Chay. Fight the vision.”

Nothing.

His movements were methodical, almost
robotic. It wasn’t Chay. Something was driving him, something
stronger than a normal vision. A demi-angel’s visions were designed
to protect, not to harm. This was something different.

“I’m sorry, Milayna,” he said quietly. “It
has to be this way.”

I shook my head and licked my dry lips. “No,
no, it doesn’t. You don’t want to do this.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“He says it must be done, and I’m the one
that has to do it.”

“You can fight him. You’re stronger than
Abaddon,” I screamed. I backed up as he walked closer and closer to
me. The knife was aimed at my gut.

I stumbled into the wall behind me. He turned
the knife over and over in his hand. I watched closely. He wasn’t
gripping the knife as it turned; it was lying in the palm of his
hand. I hit his arm and knocked it out of his grasp. He looked at
the knife lying on the floor. His face filled with rage.

He backhanded me across the face before
shoving me hard against the wall. My head bounced off it with a
thud. With one hand pressing my shoulder against the wall, he
leaned his hip against me, pinning me. He put his forearm over my
throat and pressed, choking me. My chest burned, and my head was
pounding to the beat of my heart, which was racing in my chest.
Clawing at his arms, I tried to push them away. I reached for his
face, but his arms were too long, I couldn’t reach far enough to do
any damage. My head started to swim and stars blinked in front of
my eyes.

I reached my hand toward the dagger lying on
the floor. It vibrated. I could feel the electrical shocks run
through my fingers as I focused my power on the dagger. It flew
from the floor and straight into my hand. I gripped it tightly.

I can’t stab him.

My blood rushed behind my ears, and the stars
floating across my vision grew. My time was running out. I sliced
the blade of the knife across Chay’s forearm.

Looking down at the blood oozing from the
cut, he swore. He pressed against my throat even harder, and I felt
myself weakening. My attempts to fight him grew clumsy. The dagger
slipped from my limp fingers.

The room started to gray out around the
edges. The graying got bigger and bigger until I could only see a
small circle. In it, I saw Chay’s face as he strangled me, as he
watched me die.

I heard my dad yell for Chay to stop, just as
his arm was ripped from my neck. I took in large gulps of air,
bending over so I didn’t pass out.

“Milayna! Are you okay?” my dad yelled.

My hand at my throat, I nodded. When I looked
up, I saw my dad behind Chay, his arms locked around Chay’s,
pulling them behind him. Uncle Rory stood in front of Chay, his
hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. Chay’s eyes never left
mine as he fought against my dad and uncle.

“Fight it.” My voice cracked. “Fight the
vision.”

I walked to where he struggled against my dad
and uncle, placing my hands on either side of his face. He stopped
struggling, still looking into my eyes.

“Chay, I love you,” I whispered. “Fight.
You’re stronger than him.”

I felt electricity build along my nerve
endings and move toward Chay. It reached out to him. I kept my gaze
on his. I wanted to create a bridge. I needed to know what was in
his head—what he was feeling. The surge poked around his face and
chest, looking for a point of contact. I gritted my teeth.

Damn it! I’m looking him dead in the eyes.
This should work.

Still, the pulse moved around his face,
searching but finding nothing.

“Do you hear me? I love you. You’re stronger
than this.” I gave his head a small shake to emphasize my
point.

He looked at me and blinked. For the briefest
second, I saw the real Chay break through. The electrical pulse
grabbed onto him. His emotions slammed into me: Confusion. Love.
Fear.

He was fighting the vision, but it overtook
him again and he began struggling. The bridge was broken, and I
lost my connection with him. But I knew from our brief connection
that he was in there, and I knew what was happening to him was
beyond his control.

“Milayna, get out of here,” my dad
yelled.

I ignored him. “Chay, I love you. You’re
strong, good, and kind. Abaddon isn’t stronger than you.
Fight.”

“Milayna, go,” my dad said, straining to keep
his hold on Chay.

“No, Dad. This isn’t Chay. Something is
forcing him to do this. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He just tried to strangle you!”

“I’m calling the police.” My mom picked up
the phone.

I grabbed it from her hand. “No, Mom, please.
This isn’t his fault. It’s Azazel or Abaddon. I saw his emotions. I
connected with him. He’s confused and scared. It isn’t him!”

I turned back to Chay and cupped his face in
my hands, my thumb rubbing gently over his cheek. “Listen to me. I
love you. You love me. You would never hurt me. Fight this. Fight
whoever is doing this.” I grazed my lips over his. “I love you,” I
whispered again.

He stilled. Slowly, his eyes cleared.
“Milayna?” he said, confused. He looked around. “What have I
done?”

“It wasn’t you…”

Hesitantly, my dad let him go. Chay pulled
his arms free and looked down at them. He ran his fingers over the
scratches and the cut across his forearm. Raising his eyes to my
neck, he lifted his fingers to the bruises that were already
forming, stopping just before touching me, his hand hovering in the
air.

“I have to get out of here.” He dropped his
hand and pushed through my dad and uncle toward the door. Flinging
it open, he flew through it, taking the porch steps two at a
time.

“Wait!” I yelled after him.

“It’s not safe, Milayna. I can’t be around
you.”

I watched as he ran down the street until he
was swallowed by darkness.

26

Sunday afternoon, I received a phone call
from Mr. Roberts, Chay’s father. Chay hadn’t gone home after
leaving Muriel’s house the night before.

“Do you know anywhere he could have gone?”
Mr. Roberts asked me, worry tingeing his voice.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Did he say anything to you about leaving?
Did something happen?”

I hesitated. “Um… he didn’t say anything
about leaving.”

“But something happened, didn’t it? Chay’s
been upset about something for weeks. He wouldn’t talk to his
mother or me about it, but you know what it is. Don’t you,
Milayna?”

“Yes. I mean, I do now. I didn’t know. Not
until last night.”

“Tell me.”

“Chay tried to… Well, that’s not exactly
right. Someone was controlling him. I think Abaddon forced a vision
on him, and Chay tried to…”

“What?” He was growing impatient.

“He tried to kill me last night.”

He slammed the phone down, hanging up on
me.

***

By Monday morning, everyone in the group knew
what had happened and that Chay was missing. No one had heard from
him despite their numerous calls and texts.

Tuesday came and went without word from him.
I texted and called at least a hundred times over the two days. It
was Tuesday evening before someone finally answered the phone.

“You can stop calling, Milayna. He doesn’t
have his phone with him,” Mrs. Roberts said on the other end of the
line.

“Oh.” Several moments of silence stretched
between us before I said, “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” She started to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice was thick around the
huge lump in my throat.

She clicked off the line. The last thing I
heard was a mother’s sobs over her missing son.

***

I’m sitting on the swing on our back deck.
The same swing Chay and I sat on together hundreds of times. I sway
slowly, waiting for him. He jumps the back fence, and I smile.

“
Hi,” he says, jogging up the deck stairs.
Bending down, he kisses me before sitting next to me. He threads
our fingers together, smiling.

“
Hey,” I say. “I wondered when you’d get
here. What took you so long?”

“
There was something I had to do first,”
he answers.

“
Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” I lay my
head on the back of the swing and watch the sun slowly creep below
the horizon. The sky is painted in shades of orange and yellow as
the last rays shine through the puffy, white clouds.
“Pretty.”

“
Yeah,” he answers with a squeeze of my
hand. “I love you, Milayna. Always remember that.”

Turning to look at him, I watch as he slowly
fades away. I look down where our hands are intertwined. I don’t
see his hand, but a sickly gray one with long, black nails. I look
up. A demon sits next to me, smiling a grotesque smile. Razor-like
teeth hanging below its lip.

“
He warned you he’d take away the ones you
loved,” the demon hisses.

I sat up in bed, screaming. Muriel jumped out
of her bed and hurried to me. “Milayna? It was just a dream,” she
said, her voice soft and soothing.

My parents ran into the room. My mom sat on
the edge of the bed, pushing the hair out of my face. “Another
nightmare?”