The Second Sign (9 page)

“When did you get in?” Marty asked.

“Last night.”

“How’s Max?”

Gabby knew Marty had a mad crush on Max, but
everyone who met him ended up having a crush on him. “He’s good.
Out in New York right now. He should be here in a couple of
days.”

Marty nodded, her dirty blonde hair moving with her.
“Right, your birthdays.” She smiled, though her gray eyes lowered
to the ground. Marty had been there when the fire broke out last
year, on her birthday.

After Pat and Max had disappeared in a fight that
spanned forty-eight hours and two continents, Gabby met Marty and
Kyle, the only two people who didn’t think her awkward. Marty more
so because she was a vagrant magnet and attracted nasty people to
her, and Kyle who was the opposite and seemed to find only good in
others, the exact opposite of each other leaving Gabby somewhere in
the middle.

Gabby had been broken up about Pat, and Marty and
Kyle took her to the four-story warehouse that smelled awful, but
it was their place. Gabby couldn’t remember exactly what happened.
She remembered Marty leaving her and Kyle alone. Kyle giving her a
gift, a kiss, and then all hell broke loose. She woke up in the
hospital with Max and Adler there ready to take her home where no
one would know about Kyle’s death.

“What happened here?” Gabby finally asked.

“Father Kane’s dead. They found him burned to a
crisp. They think it’s because of all the candles he kept lit. The
old wood dried up. It was a fire hazard.”

Gabby felt a pain twisting in her gut. “Why are you
all the way out here?”

Marty smiled and shrugged. “My parents don’t want me
to hang out with Mikey. You know Mikey, right?”

A troublemaker to avoid. Marty’s parents were right
in keeping her away from that one. “Maybe you should listen.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right, when the cows come
home.”

“And so where is Mikey now?”

Marty shrugged, but Gabby knew exactly where Mikey
was—drunk as a skunk.

“You better hurry up home,” Gabby said, sounding
like the worried parent.

Marty jumped back on her bike. “Call me,” she called
over her shoulder.

“I will,” Gabby called after her.

The church had been blocked off by evidence tape.
The sacristy was the only section still intact. Canvas had been
erected above the center crucifix, the statues that had survived,
and the large, stone baptismal fountain. Gabby had been at the
church last year and had spoken with Father Kane. His kind, gray
eyes gave her a glimpse at what it must be like to have a
grandfather. He loved the church, the Word, and the relics that he
collected. His sister, Adeline, lived on the edge of town with two
kids. She'd sing hymns with a voice Gabby admired.

Gabby ducked under the tape and inched along the
charred debris. A sudden urge to know what happened led her to the
stone baptismal fountain. Sliding the tips of her fingers across
its rim brought shadows to the surface of her mind. Images formed
behind her eyes, forcing the world to dim. Closing them she allowed
the images to merge and become clear. The smell of sulfur withdrew
from her senses, replaced by acrid incense. The world around her
faded, and she no longer was crouching at the base of the baptismal
fountain amongst the ruined church. She stood inside looking
through the eyes of Father Kane. Her pulse quickened, and the
searing sensation oozing through her flesh warned her to pull her
hand away. She should not be seeing this. But she couldn't stop the
images from flashing in her mind.

Father Kane wasn't alone in the church. A figure sat
on the bench, but the image was distorted. Gabby couldn't see his
face, just a mass of blackness. Both Father Kane and the figure
went up to the altar, words were exchanged, but she couldn't hear
it. Then...then they both were near the fountain. The figure threw
Father Kane in the fountain and held him down. Pain flooded her
veins. Her flesh sizzled and melted. In a desperate attempt to fill
her lungs with oxygen, she opened her mouth, only to inhale liquid
fire until she jerked her hand back.

The pain quickly subsided and Gabby felt sick. Her
stomach knotted and she doubled over. Sweat glistened on her brow
and she wiped it away, pulling back from the fountain, eyeing it as
if it were going to sprout legs and attack her. Father Kane didn’t
die in the fire, but drowned in the baptismal fountain. Murdered.
She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers and willed the vision to
clear. Folding her arms across her chest, warding away the evil,
she almost ran toward the fairgrounds, leaving the church at her
back. Father Kane had been murdered. But who could she tell? The
cops wouldn’t believe her. Max. She’d have to tell him what she
saw. Maybe he would be able to investigate.

The vision faded much like a dream into a blur once
she arrived at the fairgrounds. She'd learned to let the visions
drop out of her current mindset and sink into the depth of her
subconscious wherever memories go to be forgotten, unable to keep
the images floating in her brain. It would drive her mad. They
settled into static background noise, allowing her to regain
focus.

Where was Max?

During the summer months, the fairgrounds were
always littered with concession stands, performances, games, and
rides. Now the rides were monoliths of stillness, the concessions
boarded up waiting for the season to begin in a couple of days.
Most of the performers and concessions were townsfolk, from
artisans to fortunetellers. Gabby had worked here a few times with
Heather, the fortuneteller extraordinaire. Heather was the only
person who knew of her freak-ness, having found out after Gabby had
read the fate of a few clients who had bullied Heather. After
Heather was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, Gabby had helped
her build her clientele so she could raise money for her treatment.
If Max found out, he would kill her. He warned Gabby not to use her
gifts because using them had a ripple effect she would never know
until it was too late. Gabby didn’t know what bad could come from
helping a dying woman, so she helped her anyway. Heather and her
niece owned a camper they parked along the perimeter of their
fortunetelling tent, but the lights were off, so Gabby opted to go
to the playground. She sat on the swings, lifted her sore foot, and
pulled off her flats.

With a relatively high pain threshold, Gabby could
handle scrapes and bruises. But she couldn’t handle anything
inside. She never cried, always reacted, and never trusted. Anyone.
It was why she always got into trouble at school. She was always
the first one to throw a punch because she knew ultimately a punch
was coming toward her. Only this time, although she knew it was
coming, watching Jake with Alexi hurt more than all her broken
bones and bruises. The wound ran deep inside her, and she couldn’t
put a bandage on it, couldn’t ignore it because it was inside. And
the worst thing was, she didn’t know why. She didn’t want this. She
didn’t want to feel this way. With no control.

The screeching of brakes brought her back to the
present. A beam of light pierced the darkness, hovering just above
the ground. Jake got out of the truck, slammed the door, and jogged
toward her. His hair a mess, his eyes a glimpse of regret, and his
features pinched. He stopped a few feet from where she sat nursing
her foot and her heart. Unable to meet his gaze right away, not
wanting him to see how much he’d hurt her, she kept her eyes on her
foot until he spoke.

“Gabby,” he panted, stepping closer and dropping to
one knee, taking her foot in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
Kicking him came to mind, but she didn’t have the energy for it. He
touched her foot gently, examining the tear in the skin. “I’m so
sorry.”

“How did you find me?” she asked, pulling her foot
out of his grasp. Who would’ve known she was here?

He stood up, wiping his hands on his shorts. “Pat
told me you would be here,” he said, his voice tight with a hint of
anger.

She struggled with that little piece of information.
How would he know where she went?

“Gabby, I never meant for...,” he began.

“For what?” She lifted her head and stared at him.
“For what, Jake?” She spoke harder than she had wanted, but she
wanted to hear him say it. Anger coiled around her, pressing
against her chest, forcing her to break from reason, inching her
toward a precipice she wouldn’t be able to ignore. She couldn’t
allow it to hold her. She couldn’t allow herself to care.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “For what
happened.”

“What happened?” She stood up. “Say it.”

He held her gaze, his face hard. “For kissing her.
I’m sorry for kissing Alexi.”

She let out a breath and forced a smile. “She’s that
bad, huh?”

He flinched, caught off guard by her pun.

Her mind begged her to control her emotions, to hold
on to her heart, while her heart urged her to trust him. Standing
inches from him, she couldn’t decide.

“It’s okay, Jake.” She punched him lightly on the
arm with the side of her closed fist. “I told you you’d find more
interesting folk. Now you can take me home. My feet hurt.”

She broke away from his gaze and kept her eyes on
the truck.
I can make it. I can make it
, she thought,
forcing one foot in front of the other as the truck got closer.
Once she lifted herself inside, she heaved the door shut.

The thick, awkward silence between them made it even
more difficult to ignore the ranting and raving in her mind. She
wanted to tell him that he hurt her. That for some god awful reason
she cared about him. She needed him to want to be with her, to
force her to accept his apology, to stay with him where she knew
she belonged. But she couldn’t. Instead, she sucked it all in. Max
would be so proud of her.

Jake stopped in front of her house.

She turned to him before he could speak and say
something that would have her lose all resolve. “I’m sorry. I
wasn’t much of a tour guide. I think you could find your way
without me now. Pat and Alexi know the town really well. I’m sure
they already gave you some pointers where to jump.”

He didn’t meet her gaze, and she knew she was
right.

She went for the door, but he grabbed her, his face
a mask of regret. It was like looking into a man who was about to
lose everything. But they had just met. Things couldn’t have gone
this far in such a short time. They were two hormonal teens living
the hype of a summer fling. And the summer had just started. It
wasn’t anything real, she tried to convince herself. Though his
touch brought flutters of emotions through her she couldn’t
understand. Looking at the clear green of his eyes felt right and
wrong all mixed together. She held his gaze, unable to move.

“I want to see you again,” he finally said.

She released the door handle and brought her hands
on top of her lap, looking out the windshield. “Why?” The only word
she could find in the vast array of vocabulary in her arsenal.

“Because I like you. I want to get to know you. I
want you to get to know me.”

The first statement took her off guard. “Wow...tell
me, did you like me before or after you sucked faces with
Alexi?”

His face void of any emotion. “Before,” he answered
tersely.

“Then why would you kiss her?”

“Because you didn’t seem to want anything to do with
me. You kept throwing her at me and I got pissed, okay. I got
pissed at Pat knowing you more than me, at Alexi for being so
damned leechy. She kissed me. And I didn’t stop her. I’m sorry. I
regret it. I don’t want to lose whatever chance we may have—”

“Jake, we just met,” she interrupted, though she
wanted to say yes. She’d known Alexi was all over him, playing him.
She knew that it would’ve been a matter of time for him to fall
into her arms. With Gabby’s shove of course. But she didn’t want
him to have power over her heart. This feeling was new and scared
the shit out of her.

“So you don’t feel the same,” he said.

She turned away from him, her chest threatening to
split in two.

“Say it. I want you to say it,” he said softly.

“I don’t know, all right. I don’t know.” He had some
kind of cheesy grin that disappeared the moment she looked at
him.

“I can live with that.”

She opened the door, and as calmly as she could,
walked home.

This One Is Personal

He watched her from a distance as she approached
what remained of the church. The church he attended as a child. God
abandoned him, left him in pain, alone, hopeless. He hated the
church and everything it represented. He was glad it finally burned
to the ground. Both girls split up with words of endearment spoken
between them. He could sense their friendship. He ached for a
similar relationship with someone who could see him for something
other than a monster.

It was his weakness. Jealousy and envy led to error,
and he couldn’t afford an error this late in the game. He didn’t
fear Naite, but he feared who she worked for. Senn would cast his
soul to Hell should he fail. Senn was considered evil even within
his own demon race.

He thought about stopping Gabby from touching the
fountain. Naite had ordered him to keep her away from the church.
The demon guardian had struck a deal with another, and Gabby would
be able to see what truly happened. But he needed to feed on her
fear. It was what charged him, what gave him energy to do what he
did.

He followed her to the old fairgrounds where she
searched for the fortuneteller. Then she retreated to the
playground, her face ashen and tired. He could show her peace if
she let him. But she never would. She would pity him, see him as a
freak just like everyone else. He
should
be feared, not
loved. Killed, not befriended. It was the way of the world. And
they were right.