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

“We’ve been keeping tabs on Krystal,” he explains, “and by extension, everyone she’s connected to. So we know of your movements, and we know you’ve come
very
close to exposing the world to the existence of metahumans several times.”

              “Yeah? And?”

              “We created hunters like your friends Emma and Jenna for a reason, Ms. Santos. To make sure that we can keep the secrets that must be kept. And if you continue endangering those secrets… we won’t hesitate to have you neutralized.”

              I glance at Nick, before fixing Agent Rivera with a deadly glare. “Agent, are you threatening me?”

              “That all depends.”

              “On what?”

              Agent Rivera turns, and pulls open the door before answering. “Whether or not you decide to behave.”

3

             
What little time I spend waiting at the cemetery is short, but silent. I’ve got too much on my mind, and I assume that Nick does as well. Either that, or the entity replacing him is already gloating over their “successful” return. In any case, I’m glad for the silent respite while he travels his preferred non-magical way. I need a little time to think things through on my own.

              Of all the things that came to light in my discussion with Agent Rivera, what confuses me the most is that Krystal would actually choose me, of all people, to lead the clan in her stead. I have absolutely no leadership experience. I don’t know the first thing about teaching others. Hell, I’m still a student myself. I’m young, and stubborn, and prone to following dangerous impulses. She knew all of this, and made sure to tell me when I wasn’t living up to her standards. So why would she pick me?

              Alyssa would have been the much smarter choice. She’s everything I’m not. Calm and collected. Analytical. And most importantly, experienced. But what’s done is done. Now, I just have to figure out some way to tell my only surviving clan member that I’m now her superior.

              Before long, Nick’s cab slows to a stop near the Kensico Cemetery. He steps out after paying the driver gawking at my wings, and we turn to observe our surroundings. I have to admit, this looks like a lovely place for my body to spend the rest of its existence. Well kept grass expands over hills in every direction, dotted with trees all along the driveway and scattered among the headstones. The cab dropped him off within walking distance from a small congregation near the lake, the very same people that we’re late to see. Nick offers me his hand, but I walk right past him, my eyes on the small crowd by the lake.

              Surrounding a casket are the survivors of New York City’s obliteration, all in black to mourn our collective loss. My mother’s eyes are dry as she listens to the priest’s words. Jenna and her family are likewise stone-faced, their gazes trained on the ground in front of them. Standing with them is Nick’s sister, Emma… the rest of their family was destroyed in the blast that extinguished the city’s life. The same is true for Rachel, who hasn’t quite adjusted to outliving her parents and sister. Landon doesn’t bother trying to hide his tears; he wears them proudly, silently letting them flow, his normally vibrant eyes devoid of their usual spark. And Alyssa, for her part, looks mournful, but I’m not sure if she feels the pain of loss as intensely as the rest of us do. Or at least, she doesn’t express it as openly.

              They all turn as one when they notice Nick and I approaching the service. There are a few hushed gasps and mutters that I can hardly make out as they tumble over each other, and I can’t tell if they’re more surprised by Nick’s reappearance or the feathered additions to my appearance. Nick and Landon share a brief hug, before turning towards Krystal’s casket once more.

              For a moment, no one knows what to say or do. No one here knows how to conduct a funeral; with this many metahumans in one place, we figured it would be safest to do this ourselves. But before the silence becomes unbearable, Landon asks, “Would anyone like to say a few words?”

              Dead silence hangs in the air following the question, and it goes on for a few seconds before I volunteer to say something. A few people step back as I walk to the end of the casket where I think Krystal’s head might be. I look down at the polished wood, as if the right words are engraved there for my convenience. But they’re not, and the fact is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know much about Krystal. No one ever has. And now no one ever will.

              That realization inspires the first few words of my improvised eulogy. “Krystal was a woman of many mysteries,” I begin. “She kept more secrets than she did friends, her real name being one of those secrets. But it’s no secret that she was an amazing woman in her time. She was a force to be reckoned with. During the last year of her life, most people spoke her name with either reverence, or horror. That’s something I aspire to achieve myself.

              “That being said, hardly anyone knows the side of Krystal that she only showed to the people she was closest to. The side of her that would rather watch bad Lifetime movies in her sweatpants than head out to a bar with friends. The side that will kick your ass for you, and tell you to your face that you’re being an idiot, but that can be tender when she knows you need it. That’s the Krystal I knew. That’s the Krystal I plan to remember.

              “But whether you knew her as Krystal or Andrea, chances are, you were kept in the dark about a lot of who she was. I’ll tell you; Krystal was strong. She was brave. She was shrewd. She knew when to cut her losses, and when to take a risk. What she lacked in height, she made up for in heart. I’m gonna miss her. And if you were privileged enough to catch a glimpse of who she truly was, then I know you’ll miss her too.”

              I look to Nick and Landon once I’ve said my piece, and ask, “Anything you guys would like to add?”

              They both shake their heads, and Landon says, “You said it all. That was beautiful.”

              No one else has it in them to speak, so I move on to the next part of the service. I ask everyone to stand back for a moment, so I can have space to work with. I focus my power on the ground beneath us, shaping the solid rock deep under the earth as I pull it upward. A few people around me gasp as the first bits of polished stone break through the ground. A few moments later, a scale replica of the Statue of Liberty stands tall among the surrounding headstones, with a message engraved on the base:

Dedicated to the memory of those who

Lost their lives in the destruction of

New York City.

Gone but not forgotten.

              I stand back to admire my creation. Something seems off about the crown, and I’m not sure I captured Lady Liberty’s flowing robes very well, but I did the best I could. Rachel breaks from the crowd of onlookers, and places a hand over the statue’s, her face shining with silent tears. Of all of us, she’s lost the most, but she’s held it together publicly until now. It breaks my heart to see her in so much pain, especially knowing that my failure is to blame for how much she and the others are suffering.

              Rachel wipes her face on the heel of her hand, and steps away from the memorial. Surprisingly, she walks right over to me and hugs me tightly, which I return with just as much force. A hug from Rachel is rare, so I make it last as long as I can. We hold each other, and watch as the rest of the congregation lines up in front of the stone Statue of Liberty to pay their respects.

***

              The service didn’t last too much longer after the memorial’s creation. Krystal’s headstone was engraved, her casket was lowered, dirt was thrown on top, and Krystal vanished into the earth forever. It’s been days since she died, so I’m not sure why it feels like I’ve lost her all over again. Maybe watching Nick’s expression as her remains lowered into the ground was what did the trick.

              Almost as if he could tell I was thinking about him, Nick walks up to my side. Together we stare into the distance, not looking at anything in particular, just… dreaming we could be anywhere else. “She’s really dead,” Nick mutters. “I can’t believe it.”

              “Me neither. It almost doesn’t feel real.” I almost reach out to hold Nick closer out of habit, but I refrain. Part of me is still wary of him, and what he might be.

              “So, what happens now?,” Nick asks.

              “I’m not sure… I’d love to waste as little time as possible, and go hunt down Lily right now, but I’m guessing no one would approve.”

              “You’re guessing correctly.”

              “Then maybe it’s time to bring in a specialist.”

Nick shoots me a confused look, but I refuse to explain verbally. He’ll see what I mean soon enough. I close my eyes, and fight to remember everything Krystal taught me about summoning spells.
Have a clear image of what it is you need. Envision exactly where it is in space. Reach into the spatial void, and pull it through.

I follow her steps, and almost instantly, my fingers wrap around something that wasn’t between them before. The winged necklace my father left me. I stare at it for a moment, surprised that I found the spell so easy; I used to struggle with it when Krystal first taught me the method. I slip the chain around my neck for the first time in my life, bringing the two loose ends to the front so I can clasp them, and then center the pendant just above my sternum.

Once the necklace is on, I press my palms together in prayer. I wonder if I look as silly as I feel; I haven’t done anything like this in years. But, it’s what he said to do when I was ready. I look up at the sky, and mutter, “I don’t know if you’re listening… Hell, I don’t know if
anyone
is listening. But Michael, if you’re there, I’d like to talk to you.”

Mere seconds later, I can feel his presence behind me. It stands out from the power I’ve felt radiating from anyone else, great and terrible. Like the force of a supernova eclipsing the planets around it before they’re destroyed in the blast. I turn slowly to take a look at the newcomer, and Nick follows my lead. His eyes widen in shock as they fall upon Michael, the archangel. My father.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten how to pray,” Michael says with a smile.

I shrug. “Religion isn’t really my thing.”

“And you’ve found your wings on your own… That’s a shame. I was hoping I would be there the moment it happened.”

“Yeah, well, you missed my first words, my first steps, my first day of school… why bother ruining your streak now?”

Michael’s smile fades, and a shadow passes over his face. “I would have been there if I were allowed.”

“You weren’t allowed?”

“No… but that’s a story for another day.”

I have a smart response ready, but I literally have to bite my tongue to keep myself in check. I don’t know why, but whenever I talk to Michael, I get the strongest urge to push him away, and shame him for being a terrible father. But I can’t afford to do that right now. I need his help. So I stare at the ground, and ask, “Has your offer to help me expired?”

I can hear Michael exhale in relief before answering. “No. I can still teach you everything I know.”

“Good. Because I’m ready to accept.”

Nick bristles beside me, and under his breath, he asks, “Are you sure you wanna do that?”

I give Nick the tiniest of nods, before asking Michael, “When can we start?”

“Tomorrow,” he answers. “I have some matters to attend to before I can teach you.”

“Alright, I guess I can wait a little longer.”

“If I am to train you properly, it cannot be in a densely populated area.” Michael waves his hand in the air, and produces a tiny crackle of flame, from which he pulls a singed scrap of paper. He hands it to me, and says, “Tomorrow, when you are ready, come to this address. There, we can begin.”

“Thank you…” I stare down at the address, somewhere in upstate New York that I’ve never heard of. I look back up at Michael, and ask, “Can I bring Nick and the others with me?”

“Heather, I don’t own a mansion. If you wish to bring friends, either bring a select few or ask them to find different accommodations.”

“They don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“My rule stands. Bring a few people, or don’t. The choice is yours.”

I groan, and cross my arms. I wasn’t expecting to have to leave anyone behind. How will I possibly decide who comes and who stays?

“I should be going,” Michael says suddenly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Heather.”

“Wait! Can you help me with something before you go?”

“What is it?”

“My wings… I can’t walk around like this all the time.”

“Ah.” Michael smiles, and says, “Simply envision yourself as you once were, and your body will do the rest. The reverse will also be true for when you need them again.”

I do exactly as Michael says, and I double over in pain as my wings recede into my body. I expect to feel blood running down my back, but when I reach behind me to check, my skin is sensitive, but dry. “Thank you,” I gasp as the pain recedes.

“You’re welcome.” Michael turns his attention to Nick, and surveys him suspiciously. “And congratulations on your return,” he adds. “I hope my brother hasn’t done anything to you that you’ll come to resent.”

Nick opens his mouth to answer, but a shaft of white light surrounds Michael, obscuring him from view. I cover my eyes for protection, but when I open them, my father is gone.