Personal Demons (27 page)

Gabe smiles. His glow is blinding me again. “Lofty goals.”

“Shut up,” I say, embarrassed. I know how stupid it sounds, what I want to do, but I’ve always wanted it. I’ve always been good at talking to people, helping them find common ground. Like now, with Luc and Gabe—although I think their only common ground might be me, so I guess that doesn’t really count.

“And you think you’re going to make a difference.” Luc’s expression is serious now.

“Probably not. But it can’t hurt to try,” I say, watching my fingers twirl the pencil on my calculus book.

“You
will
make a difference, Frannie.” Gabe is suddenly as serious as Luc.

“Will I? I’m not sure I’ll get the chance.”

Luc and Gabe share a wary glance. They know I’m right. Then Luc looks hard at Gabe, and, behind his eyes, there’s anguish. “Tag her.”

“You’re even dumber than you look,” Gabe says with a sardonic smile and a shake of his head.

“What’s stopping you?”

Gabe’s expression darkens as his eyes shift to mine. “Frannie’s stopping me.”

My stomach’s in my throat. “Hold up. How am I going to have a life if I’m tagged for Heaven? How is that better than being tagged for Hell?”

I watch as Luc struggles with the answer. “The Almighty . . .” He hesitates and glances at Gabe for confirmation. Gabe nods and Luc continues. “He won’t use you as . . . poorly.”

“But He’ll still use me. It won’t be my life anymore.” Resentment and anger are threatening to take control of me. I stuff them into the black pit. “I don’t want to be Moses or Hitler. I want to be Frannie.”

Gabe finally speaks. “If you’re tagged for Heaven, I can protect you. It would be extraordinarily difficult to reverse your tag, and eventually they’ll stop trying. If you remain untagged, they’ll keep coming for you.”

“And so will you.” My heart sinks. There’s no way out of this. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic—trapped and terrified. I slide my calculus book in front of me with a shaking hand. “So, do you guys get this stuff?” I say, needing to change the subject.

Luc’s worried gaze lingers a moment longer, but he takes my cue. He pulls my book toward him. “Which one are you working on?”

I slip my paper out from under his fingers, and he jerks his hand.

“Ow!”

Gabe cracks a smile. “Ow? You’re kidding, right?”

When Luc lifts his hand and turns it over, a tiny bead of crimson blood is sprouting on the tip of his middle finger. A paper cut.

“Well, that answers that,” Gabe says.

Luc just stares, openmouthed, at the growing bead of blood. Then he turns to me with a tentative smile on his lips just before he loops his other hand behind my neck and pulls me into a kiss.

When he finally lets me go, I look into his smiling eyes. “What did I miss?” I ask, a little breathless and totally confused.

He grins. “Demons don’t bleed.”

Gabe’s eyes are storming as Luc lets me go and I try not to feel guilty. “And neither do angels,” he says.

I try to wrap my mind around what this means on the way home, but I’m having a hard time. Am I mortal? Am I turning human? I think about what that would mean for Frannie and me as she sits next to me in the Shelby with her head on my shoulder. My pulse pounds in my ears—something new—as I think about all the possibilities. Can we be together?
Really
together?

But a downside of turning human is that the thread that binds me to the nefarious is thinning. Good and bad. Good because I’ve decided that they’re a bunch of shitbags and I really don’t want to be in their heads anymore. Bad because I can’t tell when they’re here. If I can’t tell when they’re here, I can’t protect Frannie from them.

I take my right hand off the wheel to pull a small box out of the console between the seats and wrap my arm around her shoulders, holding it in front of her face. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Well, how it works is you take the box out of my hand and open it,” I say with a grin.

“Jerk,” she mumbles, grabbing the box and yanking it open. She pulls the crucifix out by the chain and watches it dangling there for a long minute.

“Put it on. The cross is iron with gold edging, and the Jesus is silver and platinum.”

She looks at me, a cynical expression almost masking the mischievous gleam in her eye. “I can see that. If you’re trying to lure me into bed with gifts, this was the wrong choice.”

I can’t help chuckling. “That really wasn’t my intention, but I’ll tuck that tidbit away for future reference.”

“So . . . is this a joke?” she says eyeing me warily.

“No. It’s a weapon.”

“I thought it was vampires that have a problem with crosses.”

“They do. But in this case, the other side keeps saying ‘Jesus saves’ and I’m hoping they’re right.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Every demon has a weakness—something programmed into us by King Lucifer at the time of our creation to keep us from becoming too powerful.” A product of His paranoia, no doubt. “Mine is gold. I don’t know what Belias’s is, or Avaira’s, but this crucifix hits on the most common weaknesses. I want you to wear this, and if either of them comes near you, gouge it into them or scratch them with it. It will at least slow them down a little.”

“You really think I need this?”

I turn away from the road and look her dead in the eye. “We need all the help we can get.” I watch as her eyes widen. She loops the chain around her neck and fingers the crucifix.

“Why is this happening?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I don’t know.”

She looks up at me with big, wounded eyes. “Whatever Gabe thinks I’m supposed to do . . . I don’t want it.”

“I don’t think it’s a choice. Your Sway is something you’re born with, like blue eyes or blond hair.”

“But I can change those things—wear contacts or dye my hair.”

“That’s not really changing them, it’s just disguising the truth. Your Sway is going to be difficult to hide.”

She sinks into the seat, dejected. “How can I make them all just leave me alone?”

“I don’t think you can. Hell won’t stop coming for you until you’re tagged, one way or the other.”

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I just want to be me. I want to have my life.”

I reach for her and she drops a hand into mine. I squeeze it. “We’re
both
going to find a way out, Frannie. I promise.” I just have no clue what it is yet. I stare out the windshield, because the only way out I can see for her is to let Gabriel tag her. “Frannie?”

“Yeah.”

I hesitate. “Will you tell me about your brother?”

She lifts her head and looks at me warily. “Why?”

“Because I can see how much you’re hurting.”

Her face darkens and her eyes look haunted. “What do you want me to say? I killed him. End of story.”

“I know that’s not true.”

She pulls her hand away from mine and folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Yes it is.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She turns to face the window. “No.”

“Please, Frannie.”

I reach for her hand again, but she yanks it away. She turns back to me and her expression is feral, a pinched snarl. The bitter scent of garlic rolls off of her, filling the car. “Get out of my face, Luc.”

I pull a deep breath. “It might help to talk about it.”

My sympathetic tone only serves to aggravate her more. “Nothing’s going to help. He’s dead!” she spits.

I pull over to the shoulder and she reaches for the door handle. I reach across and grasp her arm before she can get it open.

She squirms out of my grasp. Garlic and black pepper sting my nose. “Leave me alone, you bastard!” Angry tears flow freely down her face as she glares up at me.

“Let me help. Please . . .”

With surprising strength she pushes me hard into the door.

“I . . . hate you,” she says. But there’s no conviction. She sounds defeated, spent. Her face drops into her hands again as all her anger dissolves into tears. When her sobs slow, I brush the tangled locks off her damp face. She stares silently back at me as the last of her tears roll down her cheeks.

“We were in a tree.” Her voice breaks with every word. “He loved to climb trees . . . and . . .” Her body hitches as she tries to stifle another sob. “He was climbing so fast. I couldn’t keep up.” She turns her head away from me and leans on the door. She makes a sound like a wounded animal, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and then she’s still for a long time.

“He fell?” I finally prompt.

She heaves a sigh. “I was so mad . . .” Before she can finish the thought her voice chokes off and silent tears start again.

I slip my arm cautiously around her and pull her to me. She
leans into me and I hold her and say nothing until she’s ready to talk. When she does, her words are barely audible. “I hated that he could climb faster, so I . . . grabbed his leg . . .” She pauses and I pull her tight to me. “I ran for Mom, but . . .” Her voice is a raw wound, catching in her throat with every word. “He was my . . . twin . . . the other half of me. And I killed him.”

And there goes my brimstone heart, shattering into a million pieces. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “But you were only seven, Frannie. It wasn’t your fault.” I pull her closer and wish there was some way I could fix this for her. But even my magic can’t banish her personal demons. She’s got to face those down on her own. All I can do is hold her while she cries.

As I sit here with my face buried in her hair, feeling the sobs rack her body, I wonder if love truly does conquer all, because otherwise, despite what I promised her, I think we’re screwed.

When we get back to Luc’s, Taylor and Riley are sitting on the hood of Riley’s car in the parking lot, and I’m trying to remember when I told them where he lives. “What the hell are they doing here?”

“Gearing up to kick my ass, no doubt,” Luc says.

“Well, you deserve it.”

He looks at me from under an arched eyebrow, making me tingle all over.

We pull into a parking spot near Luc’s building, and I work to get myself together as they bounce over to us. I’m happy to
see Taylor looking almost herself again. Today was her first day back at school after her dad, and she’s been pretty down.

“We came to kidnap you,” Riley says, wrapping her arms around me from behind.

“You’re coming with us. Girls’ night,” Taylor says.

“It’s not ‘night’ and it’s not Wednesday. What’s the deal?”

“Just shut up and do as you’re told,” she smirks.

I step forward and hug her. “How you holding out?”

She looks a little confused for a second then says, “Fine.”

“Did your dad come home today?”

She glances quickly at Riley and back. “Yeah.”

“He’s doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but then decide she must not want to talk about it. “So, what’s going on?”

“You’re coming with us.”

“Sorry. Luc and I are kinda busy,” I say.

He looks at me, and I see his eyes drop to the crucifix under my shirt. “No, it’s okay . . . I think you should go.”

I glower at him. “I thought we had plans.” At least I did. Plans involving cool sheets and warm bodies . . .

“Go ahead, Frannie.” He steps away from us, scanning the lot and buildings with growing concern on his face.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he almost growls. “Just go.”

Something’s not right. I force my eyes away from Luc and scan the parking lot then shift them to Taylor. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she says with a sparkle in her eye.

When I turn to kiss Luc good-bye his eyes are still darting.

“What’s up?” I whisper in his ear as he leans down.

“Nothing. I’ll see you later.” He kisses me, and I force myself to let him go.

I slide into the back of Riley’s car. As we pull out of the parking lot, Riley keeps looking at me in her rearview mirror.

“So, really. What are we doing?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” she says into the mirror.

“How did you guys find me? I never told you where Luc lives.”

Riley glances at me in the mirror again. “Yeah, you did. Remember that time at school?”

“Actually, no. So . . .” I look back at Luc’s complex, fading into the distance, “this is all a little weird, don’t you think?”

Taylor turns and looks at me. “You’ve been blowing us off for Lucifer. You left us no choice.”

Lucifer?
Suddenly alarms are ringing in my head. I work to stay calm. Panicking isn’t going to help anything. I feel the weight of the crucifix against my chest and breathe into it. “Yeah, I guess. Sorry. But what about Riley and Trevor? They’re just as bad.” I watch for Taylor’s reaction.

They share a quick glance, then Taylor turns back to me with a grin and says, “Yeah . . . I had to kidnap her too.”

Wrong reaction.
Shit!
And as I look at her, I notice for the first time that her eyes are glowing red. Just a little behind her gray irises, but enough that it’s just noticeable in the shadows of the car.

I don’t know what’s going on, except I’m pretty sure I’m screwed.

I look for a spot to bail, but by now we’re out of town and there are no more stop signs. We’re heading out into the middle of nowhere. Riley’s driving much faster than usual, or I’d open the door and jump. I’m trying not to freak as I look out at our surroundings . . . and then I get it. We’re heading up to the quarry.

We park near the trail into the swimming pit, and I open the door and start to move away from the car.

Taylor—or whoever this is—swings behind me in a flash. “Hey, where you going?”

That’s a really good question. Where
am
I going? I look up the dirt road. The main road is at least half a mile away and the dense woods are quiet. Too early for the groups of summer swimmers. There’s nowhere to run. “Nowhere. So, what are we doing here?”

“Just hanging out. Maybe skinny-dipping. Sound good?”

Yeah, sounds great. “Not really up for skinny-dipping. Water’s freezing.”