Matchbox Girls (24 page)

Marley scrambled to her feet and backed away, pulling Kari with her. AT moved away just as quickly. Lissa was on the other side of the line, standing very still, staring at it with big eyes. Every time it snapped in Lissa’s direction, Marley felt a tickle in her head.

But Lissa was safe. She was
safe
, Marley was certain. The live wire could not hurt her. Not like Ettoriel could. Still, she said, “Come around the wire, Lissa.” She threw a worried look at Ettoriel, fully expecting him to take advantage of the distraction.

But he just said, “We can go, Jeremy. It won’t be long now.” Jeremy nodded, and they got into the van.

Lissa scrambled around the live wire and threw herself on Marley. Marley held her with one hand, watching as the van left the parking lot. Then she looked at AT, who was staring at her with a furrowed brow. “What the hell was that all about?”

AT shook her head slowly. “I don’t know... I think he’s done something to you. Put some magic on you. Do you feel anything?”

Marley looked down at her clothes, which were coated in the black, oily dust one gets from rolling around in parking lots, mixed with a very fine ash. She felt filthy, mostly. But... there was a deeper wrongness below the filth. It felt like an ache in a location she couldn’t quite identify, someplace outside of her. The bones of the world were glass, and if she wasn’t careful, they’d shatter.

She shook her head and tried to force some normality into things. “We ought to report that to somebody...” She nodded at the live wire, and started drawing them all away from the danger zone, to the far side of the lot.

AT got out her phone. “But do you feel anything strange?”

“Strange like seeing lines of magic, or strange like seeing catastrophe kaleidoscopes over everybody that mostly don't happen? Or maybe strange like seeing people dissolve into static? Or a vision of a dead—” Another time, Marley might have given into hysterics. But the anguished expression on AT’s face was as good as a slap. She took a deep, gasping breath and rubbed her face. Then, in a subdued voice, she said, “Yes, of course. This time it feels like a really bad medication side effect. It feels like the kind of thing I’d want medication to deal with. It feels like my brain is broken.”

AT hesitated and then dialed a brief number on the phone. Quickly, she reported the downed wire and the address, watching Marley the whole time. Marley, who didn’t like feeling like
she
was the live wire, inspected the children.

Kari, looking down, seemed barely aware of the world. Miserably, she mumbled, “I just don’t like this. It’s not fun anymore.” And then she wouldn’t say anything else.

Lissa said, “He was too heavy. I couldn’t make him go away without listening to the fire.” She scowled. “And I couldn’t tell if he really knew Uncle Zach or he was just pretending.” Her shoulders hunched.

Marley pursed her lips. “What does the fire say?”

Lissa glanced up, her eyes shadowed. “It calls me ‘spark.’ It’s hungry, and it wants to be eaten. It wants to be eaten by a bigger fire.” She shuddered.

Marley put a hand on her head. “I’m sorry. But we did make him leave, right? Maybe we can do something else, too, like finding your uncle. Is there something you can listen to that will tell you where he is? I mean, something that isn’t right next to bad people.”

Lissa said, “I dunno.”

“Well, think about it and let me know, okay?”

As Lissa nodded, AT said, “Why isn’t he answering?” She pressed her phone to her ear, her knuckles white. “I want to ask Corbin about the thing on you but he’s not answering.”

Marley frowned. “AT, it’s okay. The angel showed me a vision, trying to scare me, and it’s probably just left over from that.”

But AT’s gaze drifted to the power line and Marley sighed. “Let’s go back to the shelter and pick up our stuff, at least.”

They walked down the curb to the pedestrian crossing. As they waited for the light to change, Kari muttered, “Forgot to cross the right way before. Oops.”

“So did I. That’s because I was worried about you.” Was it wrong to put a maternal-style guilt-trip on a preschooler? She lightened her tone. “But we’ll do it right this time.”

“There weren’t any cars, though,” said Kari, as petulant as only a small child could be.

There weren’t any cars now, either. The light changed. They started to cross the six-lane road. A third of the way across, a black sports car approached. And suddenly, the world was moving too fast. It was going to tear.

Something snapped. She could almost hear the twang.

The black car didn’t stop. She saw the driver’s face, a middle-aged man, eyes wide with panic. Then she was thrusting herself forward, barreling into the herd of dogs and children ahead of her. The driver must have wrenched on the wheel enough, because she felt the car buzz by instead of hitting her, felt it through her feet and on the back of her legs.

Knees weak, she shouted everybody to the other side of the street. Then she clung to the streetlight. The sports car vanished down the street, dangerously close to the curb and showing no signs of slowing down.

“What the hell!” shouted AT. “I didn’t get that guy’s license number, but the dogs can track him down.”

Marley shook her head. “He tried to stop; I don’t know what happened. Maybe his brakes went out?”

AT peered after the car. “I don’t like this. He almost killed you.”

“It was an accident, AT. I saw his face. He had no idea what was going on.”

“And the power line snapping was an accident too, I suppose,” AT grumbled, but she seemed to mostly be talking to herself. Once again, Marley mobilized her little crowd and they marched on to the evacuation center. As they went, she peeked in her bag, where Neath was curled up on top of the broken Lullaby Plaything, dozing. One ear twitched, but that was all the attention Marley warranted. It pleased her. At least one being she was taking care of didn’t think she was screwing everything up.

The sun was above the horizon, now, and the world was waking up. More people were in the parking lot and the smells of fast-food breakfasts mingled with the smells of coffee and smoke. They went inside the center and returned to the cots that had been assigned to them. The grey dog—Grim, Marley had learned—was curled up on AT’s cot, his tongue lolling out as he kept an eye on his surroundings. He sat up and yawned as they approached, and Marley wondered again why nobody seemed to notice the dog. Maybe it was just that kind of situation.

The world was thin and fragile again. A hole would be punched right through and the entire world would deflate like a balloon.

The power went out. For a few seconds Marley was left with the afterimage of Grim’s ears flattening. Then the noise level in the enormous space rose, and Marley joined the other caregivers in the stadium in making sure their charges weren’t snatched away by the darkness. After a moment, dim red emergency lights and dozens of flashlights made the darkness into less absolute.

“Aren’t there backup generators?” AT said.

“Lights out. Why?” said Lissa, her arms wrapped around Marley’s leg. The smell of the fire intensified as the ventilation systems stopped working.

“Too much heat, I think.” said Marley. “I’ve never really been sure myself about brownouts.”

With a hum, the lights flickered back on, although the big screens against the walls displayed nothing but blue static.

AT looked around and grabbed her bag. She dug something out and pushed it at Marley. “I really don’t like that magic the angel put on you. Please, look at it yourself?”

Marley took the compact mirror from AT and unfolded it. “Let me at least sit down. I almost fell over last time I tried this.”

She perched on the edge of a cot, with a kid on either side, and envisioned the Geometric Sight activation symbols: a circle, a triangle and a square, merging together. Sitting down had been a good call; hundreds of people were milling around her, each one a collection of lines and circles of light. And there were traceries outlining the building and the objects near her, all tangling together into a mess. But she concentrated on her own reflection. A third circle had been filled in with light. While the first two chakras held a delicate and complex shimmering light, the light throbbed luridly in the third. Tendrils of it extended beyond the chakra itself, moving like a hungry sea creature.

Marley recoiled from the mirror. “That’s awful. What is it?”

AT rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I wish Corbin would call me back. I do think it’s connected to the power line, though. And maybe that car?”

Marley looked up, at the girders crossing the ceiling high above. “And the power flicker?” A nasty foreboding coiled in her belly.

AT’s breath hissed between her teeth. “I’m going to call somebody else I know. She helped me out a lot once. Corbin wouldn't approve, but where the hell is
he
?” She unfolded her phone and speed-dialed a number. Marley took a deep breath, banished the Geometric Sight and started cleaning up the stuff they’d left scattered around the cots. By the time she’d packed up the toys and books and snacks yet again, AT was closing the phone. She looked pale.

“She says that we should go outside, right now. Before anything else happens. Says you should be outside, in a clear, open space without a lot of people who might get hurt.” AT picked up a backpack.

Marley scowled. “That’s not reassuring. Did she have anything else to say?”

“She said she’s on her way.” Her hands full, AT clicked to her dogs and headed out of the evacuation center.

-twenty-six-

A
fter dropping everything off at the car, Marley followed AT to the far side of the enormous parking lot. The girl and her dogs headed directly to an expanse not yet colonized by cars. AT was moving swiftly, almost jogging. Marley was a lot slower, limited as she was by the pace of two tired, moping preschoolers.

Marley held a child’s hand in each of her own, and wondered if it was physically possible for her to carry them both. They dragged their feet and whimpered and whined so much that she finally picked each one up around the middle and carried them like sacks of potatoes. This, judging from the decrease in whine levels, was better than walking.

It wasn’t as exhausting as she expected, either. She felt certain she could even jog while holding them, although the kids would be even more uncomfortable. It was strange. She wasn’t in particularly good physical condition, and she could remember struggling with bags that she thought were as heavy as the girls in the past.

She caught up with AT and deposited the girls again. “Hey AT, are nephilim stronger than humans?”

AT glanced up from her phone. “Some more than others. Corbin says it’s something to do with an intrinsic use of the Geometry inherited from our celestial side.” She rolled her eyes. “He says stuff like that. We're tougher than humans, too, when it comes to enduring damage and environmental extremes.”

“Why haven’t I noticed before?”

“Well, Corbin said you were veiled somehow, like your celestial nature was being suppressed. Didn’t some other nephil things only show up recently for you?”

Marley smirked darkly. “You mean I only get the perks if I put up with the drawbacks. Of course.”

“Do you know
why
you were veiled? It isn't normal.”

“I think I've always been aware of... my extra sight, to a limited extent. But I didn't like it. And as I got older, I took medication that really seemed to make it mostly go away.”

AT was dismissive. “The first is just ordinary denial, and the second... well, I'm going to hope there isn't actually a drug that can truly turn off who we are, or we're in a whole lot of trouble. It might have disguised the problem, though.” She looked down at her phone again.

One of AT’s dogs curled up between where the twins had collapsed onto the pavement, nosing them until they cuddled up to her. Neath meeped from within Marley’s purse and Marley pushed her back down again. “You can’t join them, you’re too small.” She scratched behind the kitten’s ears with one finger, though. “So... tell me about this friend of yours? Another nephil?”

AT said, “Tia. She’s... not nephilim.”

Marley crossed her arms, looking at AT expectantly.

AT sighed. “She’s a demon, all right? Which, yes, I know means she’s trouble, but she’s helped me out a lot. Without her, I probably wouldn’t be here now. At least, not like this.”

“So... she’s an angel who has rejected Heaven. Which is also what the kaiju are? But demons and kaiju aren’t the same?”

“No. They aren’t.” AT looked away, toward the dawn. “I haven’t met many demons, but I know Tia. I owe her a lot.”

“Your soul?” Marley guessed.

AT turned on her, eyes blazing. “Nephilim don’t have souls, didn’t you know? I owe her help, like one often does with an old friend. If you can’t avoid acting like a prejudiced mortal, just shut up until she gets here.”

Oops.
“That was tactless of me. I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” said AT. “Here she comes now. Try not to let your prejudice leak all over somebody who is only showing up to help you.”

A sleek red sports car approached across the pavement. It was going very fast. As it got closer, it didn’t seem to be slowing down. “AT...” said Marley nervously. “This has happened once already.”

“It’ll be okay,” said AT, but not very reassuringly. Marley tried to back out of the way, but the car’s nose twitched to follow her. At the very last instant, the driver yanked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt inches from Marley’s feet. Her gaze met the sunglasses of the driver inside.

The lady removed her sunglasses as Marley stared at her. Amused hazel eyes, an expanse of olive skin, dark hair tucked up into an attractively loose bun. The woman raised a coffee cup in a toast to Marley before swinging herself out of the car. “Well then! That was interesting, don’t you think?”

“Yes, very interesting. You almost killed me.” Marley’s voice was flat.

“It was a test,” the woman said. “To be fair, I was just driving carelessly. The curse you’re wearing tried to kill you.”