Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) (23 page)

              I hear footsteps behind me, and turn around to see Alyssa looking over the artifacts. “Why aren’t you inside with the others?,” I ask.

              Alyssa shrugs, and says, “I’ll grab a sword or something in a few. I just wanted to check out this room… most of these objects have been lost for centuries. And I probably won’t ever get a chance to see them again.”

              “I never figured you were into this sort of stuff.”

              “There are a few things you don’t know about me, Santos.” Alyssa bends to look at a ring, and gasps. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is!”

              “What?” I come closer to see that she’s examining the Aegis, the ring that protects the wearer from any and all harm. Given her interest in the room that we’re in, I’m sure she knows exactly what she’s looking at. I lean against the display case holding the Aegis, and ask, “Do you want it?”

              Alyssa’s eyes widen with excitement, but she quietly points out, “It isn’t yours to give.”

              “I don’t care. I think you should have it.”

              “But-“

              Alyssa’s protestations are too little, too late. I’ve already unlocked the glass display case with a spell, and pulled out the ring. I’d put the ring on her finger myself, but I don’t think either of us would be entirely comfortable with that, so I hold the Aegis out in my open palm. Alyssa stares at my palm, as if I’m offering her something dangerous. “Just take it,” I plead with her. “You want it, and it’ll keep you safe, so I don’t care if I get in trouble for this. You’re worth it.”

              After a moment’s deliberation, Alyssa takes the ring. She looks up into my eyes for a brief moment, and whispers, “Thanks.” But the next moment, she’s gone, practically tripping over herself to join the others in picking out weapons.

              Several minutes later, the entire group emerges with a collection of swords, halberds, and spears. Even Jenna now carries a pair of daggers with angelic sigils engraved in the blades. Krystal closes the secret room behind her, and says, “Everyone’s armed to the teeth. You’d better bring these back, angelic weapons are hard to come by. And we keep the lost ones locked up here for good reason.”

              Jenna shrugs, and says, “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” But when Krystal isn’t looking, she examines her new daggers with a wistful eye. She may not want to be a hunter anymore, but old habits die hard. She’ll be reluctant to let them go.

              Krystal walks us out of the temple, and back to the doorway back to our realm. All of the Fallen step through except for Nick and I; we’re not leaving without a proper goodbye. “You better come and visit me more often,” Krystal tells us before giving us individual hugs. “It’s hard to make new friends when most of these people have known each other for centuries.”

              “We’ll be seeing you again,” Nick assures her. “Don’t worry about it.”

              “Good. And be careful.”

              “We will.”

              Krystal waves us off as we step through the tear, and I walk backwards so I can get a good long look at her before she disappears from view. As soon as I’m back on Earth, I spin around to face the Fallen. We’ve drawn up our battle plans, and we’ve acquired an arsenal of weapons to help us in battle. There’s only one thing left for us to do. I clear my throat to attract the group’s attention, and ask, “Who’s up for a bonding exercise?”

              A minute later, all of us (sans Jenna) stand on the precipice of the Empire State Building, peering down at the sprawling city before us. One by one, each of us unfurls our wings, teeters over the edge of the building, and plunges to the ground. As they all pass, I take a moment to notice the minute distinctions between our wings. Morgan’s wings are cream colored, while the feathers on Joel’s are white with golden tips. Nick’s wings are black like Lily’s, but instead of feathers, his are covered in a thin membrane of what looks like stretched skin. And Alyssa’s are a translucent red, the same shade as her irises when she unleashes her hidden power.

              When my turn comes, I lean forward, and hurtle towards the ground. For some of us, trusting each other will be easy. I’ll happily put my life in Alyssa’s hands, or Nick’s. But for the rest of us, this leap of faith is more than metaphorical. It’s fighting alongside near strangers. It’s a terrifying risk, and part of me wishes there were a way to protect the Earth without the aid of people I hardly know, and certainly don’t expect to have my back. But the same way I trust the air to keep me aloft when I spread my wings, I have no choice but to trust that they’ll come through in the end.

25

             
The last few days before Lucifer’s army arrives are some of the most relaxing I’ve had in over half a year. Everything’s been planned, I’m not being attacked or put through intense training, and best of all, I get to spend some quality time with my mother. I’ve been keeping her out of the loop on so much of what’s been happening, but the more time I spend with her, the more everything keeps spilling out.

              To her credit, my mom has become so immune to the insanity that’s consumed our lives, that she doesn’t bat an eye as I tell her what’s transpired. She doesn’t even seem surprised to hear what Michael’s planning for the people of Tokyo. She merely shrugs, and says, “Your father’s always been a very pragmatic person. And stubborn; once he’s sure he’s right about something, he can’t be swayed.”

              I pull my knee up to my chin, and wrap my arms around my leg. “I still can’t believe you ever
dated
him.”

              “I can. The nineties were a strange time for me. I’d dated the same boy throughout all four years of high school, and when he dumped me to go to UCLA, I decided to broaden my horizons. Your father was the last in a string of failed experiments.”

              “Mom, boys are people, not science projects.”

              My mom rolls her eyes at me, and says, “The experiments were never about them. I was trying to find myself in other people… which is terrible advice, don’t do what I did.”

              “Roger that.”

              “I don’t think you’ll end up going down that road, anyway… I think you’ve already found your niche.”

              I look up at my mom, and ask, “What do you mean?”

              “I mean, this time two years ago, you always had your nose in a book, obsessed with someone else’s story. But you’ve come so far, and now the story’s all about you.” My mom leans forward in her seat, and pushes her laptop onto the couch beside her. “You’ve grown up into an incredible woman. You’re strong in so many ways that I can never be. You’ve naturally found the balance between being compassionate and hard as nails. You care so deeply for the people around you, and you’ve become everything they’ve needed, from warrior, to superhero, to political activist-“

              “Failed political activist,” I remind her. “Nobody on the news has mentioned me or any other freak in days.”

              “And that’s fine. Change takes time, kid, and people are
very
stubborn. My point is, you’re the kind of person who will put the world on your shoulders without anyone asking you to. You love helping people, even though it’s a thankless job. You’re incredible, Heather. And I’m proud to call you my daughter.”

              I wave off her assessment of me, even though I’m hiding a smile. “It’s whatever. I learned all I needed to know about helping people from you, Doctor Santos.”

              “Not a doctor yet, kid. First, I’ve got a book to finish and a couple more years in school.”

              “Yeah, yeah. You’ll get there.” I look around at the apartment she’s chosen, and ask, “Have you started packing yet?”

              “I’m already done. I gotta say, now that I’m leaving the city by choice, I’m not happy about it. Happier than when I got dragged across the Hudson River by a bleeding teenager, but still not happy.”

              “Maybe we can come back after everything calms down, but for now, it’s safest if you and the others leave.”

              “I know.” My mom pats my cheek, and says, “I just hate abandoning my city, and my baby.”

              I smile at her, and pull her into a tight hug. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I promise.”

              “You better be. I’m too old to squeeze out a replacement kid at his point.”

              In no time in all, it’s time for my mom and the others to leave. They’re going to wait out the battle at Michael’s house in Huron, or in a hotel room nearby if the house is still under hunter surveillance. I carry my mom’s bag downstairs to the lobby, where Emma, Landon, and Rachel are waiting for us. Each of them grabs onto me, and as one, we all vanish, and reappear on the banks of Lake Ontario.

              I escort everyone inside the house, and tell them all to wait in the living room while I check that it’s safe. I can tell with my second sight that we’re the only people here, but I don’t want to take any chances. I check the second floor, the attic, and the ground floor before relaxing, and preparing to leave.

              Landon is the first one to hug me goodbye. He wraps me in his arms, and tells me, “Knock ‘em dead.”

              Interesting choice of words. I don’t plan on killing anyone, even Lucifer if I can avoid it. But I bite back my initial reaction, and reply, “Don’t worry. I will.”

              When Landon lets go of me, Emma pulls me in her direction, and hugs me tightly. I’m actually a little surprised; I wasn’t under the impression that we were very close. As if she can read my thoughts, she pulls away, and says, “We
have
to get to know each other better when all this is over. If you’re cool enough for Nick, you’re cool enough for me.”

              “Thanks?” I smile awkwardly, and ask, “How about we meet up at a firing range sometime? I’ve seen what you can do with a gun, and I could use a good teacher.”

              Emma fixes me with a genuine smile, and says, “It’s a date.”

              Rachel keeps her farewell short and sweet. We embrace, and she tells me, “See you on the other side.”

              “Yeah, you too.”

              Saying goodbye to my mom is just as easy. When we hug, she holds onto me for a long time, and we stand wordlessly in each other’s arms. I don’t mind; we’ll talk when I come to pick them up and bring them home. We’ll have more to talk about then.

              As soon as my mom lets go of me, I’m ready to head out the door. Just before crossing the threshold, I turn back to look at these people I’ve fought to protect for so long. With the final fight drawing near, it almost seems wrong to leave them so… unguarded. But I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re survivors. I tell them, “See you guys later,” before turning and walking through the front door.

              Before I leave, I walk out onto the dock, all the way out to where I can’t see the bottom of the lake. I stand looking out at the horizon for a moment, at the water reflecting the rays of the midday sun. Tomorrow, I’ll be walking right into the fight of my life. Tomorrow could easily be the last time I see Nick, or Alyssa. It’ll be the last time I ever see my father. In a way, I’m glad that this chapter of my life is nearly over, but I also wish I could have more time. I haven’t had long enough with these people I’ve come to know and love. I don’t want them risking their lives, but I can’t make their choices for them. In the meantime, I still have the lives of others to worry about. I have to put a stop to Michael’s plans for the people of Tokyo.

              I close my eyes, and concentrate as hard as I can on everything I’ve seen of Tokyo. If I don’t get this spell right, I could wind up in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. When I think I’ve gotten the right mental image, I teleport halfway around the world, and I can immediately feel the change in temperature. I don’t feel wet at all, but I still look around me in shock, expecting to see nothing but water on all sides. Instead, I’m standing in an empty monorail station, with nobody around for company. All of the signs are written in kanji, so I breathe a sigh of relief. I think I’m in the right place.

              I unfurl my wings and take a running leap into the air. No wonder it’s so much colder here than in Huron; I’ve traveled literally across the planet from where I once was, meaning that it’s just after midnight here. I soar upward towards the moon, and gaze down at the sprawling city beneath me. Under different circumstances, I’d have loved to visit Tokyo. And maybe someday, I properly will. But right now, I’m just here to plant a sigil, and leave as soon as possible.

              Even though I’m high up above the city, I can’t see a hint of the circle Queen Aileana said the angels would need for their spell. There are no lines in the ground where there shouldn’t be, or any sigils emblazoned into the buildings. Could she have been wrong about what I’ll have to do? I close my eyes, and shake my head, and that’s when I see it: a massive ring of white flame around the city. And just within the limits of that ring, symbols whose meaning elude my understanding. When I open my eyes, however, I can see nothing amiss. Just the lights of the city twinkling at me in the absence of stars.

              I close my eyes again to be sure I hadn’t been imagining things, and sure enough, I can see the ring of flames again. Evidently, whatever Michael did, I can only see the effects with my second sight. While trying to figure out exactly how Michael set up the ring, I scour the ground below for the ring’s center. It’s hard to tell without going higher, but I’m already freezing, and I want to get the job done as quickly as I can. I angle myself towards the approximate center, open my eyes, and put on an extra burst of speed.

              When I finally begin my descent, I’m above the grounds of what looks like an ancient Japanese palace. I dive towards the ground, and level out just in time to whiz between several trees, and come to a stop right before crashing into a white tree that’s already shed every leaf it had for the winter months. I take a moment to catch my breath, and think through what I’ll need to do. It won’t be enough to take a branch and draw in the dirt; whatever Michael did will require an actual spell. But since there’s no one here to teach me, it looks like I’ll have to figure it out on my own.

              I pull out my phone, and scroll to the picture I took of the sigil I’ll need to recreate. I think back on the white flames I could only detect with my second sight, and wonder if all I’ll need is a little fire. I’m reluctant to experiment while I’m surrounded by trees, though; I have a history of accidentally starting forest fires. At the same time, I’m worried about what will happen if I’m discovered here, or if my absence in New York draws suspicion. I have no choice but to try.

              I study the sigil on my phone until I’m confident I can recreate it flawlessly, and put my phone back in my pocket. I take a wide stance, and concentrate on the ground below me. I conjure up the mental image of the sigil, and try to recreate it in flames on the ground. The lines begin to appear right in front of me, little trails of fire spreading out into the shape I need them to take.

As soon as the sigil is complete, the flames intensify, and I have to take a step back to keep myself from getting burned. As they reach higher and higher, the flames slowly shift from their natural reddish-orange, to the same pale blue as my aura. I shield my eyes to block out the light when it becomes too intense, but when I look again, there’s no evidence that fire ever scorched the ground. I can see the sigil when I close my eyes, but to the casual observer, it looks like nothing ever happened.

              Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that the initial flames went unnoticed. I can hear the shouts of angry guards as they race towards me. I take one last look at the untouched earth below me, and teleport away from the scene long before any guard can spot me.

              The dark, wooded scenery I’d become accustomed to is immediately replaced by blinding sunshine and a paved road. The street signs around me are in English again; I’m back in New York City, right outside the apartment building my friends and I have commandeered. I walk inside, congratulating myself on what I hope is a job well done. Assuming the sigil does as Queen Aileana says it will, there will be no more senseless killing tomorrow than usual. And after tomorrow, there will be nothing left of the man behind the would-be massacre.

26

              Now that there’s nothing left to do but wait, I’m finding it harder and harder to relax. I lie in bed with my eyes screwed shut, wishing sleep would take hold of me, but sleep won’t come. And no method I can think of can quiet the maelstrom of thoughts plaguing my mind. It’s not just worrying about tomorrow, that I’d be able to handle without a problem. I’m worried about my friends. I’m worried about my mom. I’m worried about the possibility that all of my efforts have been for nothing.

              Eventually, my anxiety becomes too much to endure. I roll out of bed, and slip on a pair of shorts before tiptoeing across the hall. I knock on Alyssa’s front door, and to my surprise, she answers within a few seconds. She gives me a knowing look, and asks, “Couldn’t sleep?”

              “No…” I wrap my arms around myself to keep from shivering. Maybe walking around in just shorts and a t-shirt was a bad idea; this building is freezing. “I’ve got too much on my mind. You?”

              “Same here. I was actually just on my way to see you.” Alyssa opens her door all the way, and steps out of the way so I can come inside.

This apartment is oddly reminiscent of her last one; whereas before, she could only decorate her bedroom the way she wanted, her style has been flung all over this new space. Every wall features at least one poster of a band she listens to, and unlike the apartment she shared with two others, everything here is clean and organized. Something brushes against my leg as I follow Alyssa to her living room, and I look down to see her tortoiseshell cat Gideon has miraculously survived months on his own.