Hear the Crickets Page 3

  Sean took a few steps back.

  “Well, it’s pretty cool, whatever it is,” he said, shrugging agreeably. Sean strolled back to my desk and picked up a canvas tote bag, emptying its contents onto the table. “So, I stopped by the library and picked you up a few more books. It’s getting harder and harder to find you anything that you haven’t read.”

  I put down my paint brush and walked over. I picked a book off the stack and briefly took a look at the cover.

  “I’ve read it,” I said, putting it back down. I picked up the next one. “Read this one, too.” I lifted the entire stack and angled them so I could read the titles off of each of the bindings. “Read it, read it, read it, haven’t read it, read it.”

  I separated the one I hadn’t read from the others and placed it at the edge of my desk.

  “You can return the others,” I said, giving a wave of my hand as I headed back to my canvas.

  “You’re welcome?”

  “For what?” I asked. I didn’t like those type of interruptions while I was trying to concentrate on my artwork.

  “It’s called common courtesy, Skyy. I went to the library and picked out books for you, drove half an hour out to your godforsaken property, and dropped them off. The least you could do is say thank you.” Sean stood next to my painting, facing me, with his arms crossed. He was clearly annoyed with me.

  “Why? You only ended up with one book I haven’t read before. Kind of a waste of my time, really.” I waved him off and focused again on my painting. I couldn’t understand why he acted like doing me a few favors was such a herculean task. He was forever being overly dramatic.

  “You can be so insufferable sometimes,” he barked as he tossed his hands in the air and stormed off, plopping himself down on my bench.

  My vision began to blur and my head started to pound. The sudden onset nearly dropped me to my knees. I grasped my temples and applied pressure, hoping that would alleviate the pain.

  It didn’t. I leaned over in agony.

  “Hey,” I heard Sean say. “You okay?” He sounded as if he was talking to me from underwater.

  I raised my head and gave him a sideways glance. “Do I look okay?” I winced sarcastically. The pain was excruciating.

  “Can I get you something? Aspirin? Water?”

  I opened my mouth to again belittle him, but I stopped short. I knew he was only trying to help. I’m not sure why I constantly treated him like he was an idiot. He didn’t deserve most of my jabs, and he meant more to me than he realized.

  He was my best friend.

  Actually, he was my only friend.

  But I would never give him the satisfaction of hearing me say it out loud.

  “There’s nothing I can take that will work,” I uttered slowly. “Give me a bit. It’ll pass. It always does.”

  I shuffled my way over to the bench in front of my work desk and sat down. I placed my head in my hands and leaned over, waiting for it to go away. I tried to focus on something other than the pain.

  My mind drifted back to my time at the abbey. The headaches began around the time I turned sixteen. Back then, they were debilitating. I would be in bed for days after having one. Sister Mary Frances would stay by my side, holding my hand and taking care of me, until the pain subsided. It was rare that she’d leave me during one of my episodes. She had been my own personal angel.

  Shortly after that first headache, I stopped sleeping. I found myself wandering about the halls at all hours of the night, trying to keep myself occupied while everyone else slept. The sisters realized what was going on and started to worry that there was something mentally wrong with me. So that they wouldn’t worry, I pretended to sleep at night.

  The voices had never been a picnic, either. They started shortly after the headaches and had gone hand in hand ever since. It always felt like a thousand people crammed inside my brain—all trying to talk at once. But I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. The voices were always there. In fact, I swore I could feel them in my head even when they weren’t speaking to me. It’s like they sat dormant, waiting for an opportune time to torture me.

  Thankfully, the headaches didn’t last as long as they used to. Instead of days, I was usually myself again within an hour.

  But it didn’t make the experience any less unpleasant.

  Just like clockwork, the voices commenced.

  I realized this time was different, though.

  The voices were getting louder. They shouted as if they were trying to gain my attention.

  It worked.

  I began to make out some of the words.

  Fallen. Spear. Watchers.

  I didn’t understand what the words meant. But at that moment, I didn’t really care. My head felt as though it was about to explode. I tried to scream, but all I could manage was a throaty grunt. I slid off of my chair and onto my knees, dropping my head even lower to cover my ears with the palms of my hands.

  Sean was instantly at my side, trying to provide some comfort, although rather unsuccessfully. I pushed him away, not wanting him to see me like that. I felt vulnerable, something I rarely experienced.

  I was invincible. Literally. Considering how many times I had tried to kill myself without success, I’d developed the notion that nothing could hurt me. At least not physically.

  I’d gone out of my way to hide my inner demons and weaknesses from anyone I’d ever known. Sister Mary Frances, Sean, and even the small handful of people I’d allowed into my life along the way. I couldn’t permit any of them to see that I was just as weak emotionally as any human, which was probably why I always treated Sean like a five-year-old. I kept him at arm’s length in an effort to protect him—and myself.

  My cries filled my studio as if my head were being torn from my shoulders. The pain was blinding, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My wings wrapped around me like a protective cocoon.

  Giants. Hybrids. Nephilim.

  The voices grew louder, and I no longer believed I could tolerate the pain inside my head or the incessant screaming of the voices.

  And then...nothing.

  The headache, along with the voices, completely ceased to exist. I laid on the floor in complete disbelief at what had just occurred. My wings opened up and found their way back behind me.

  Sean scrambled to help me up.

  “Hey. Are you all right? What was that?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but before I had a chance to respond, I heard a noise coming from outside my shop door.

  “Did someone follow you?” I asked.

  “No. Of course not,” he replied.

  I stood and stumbled toward the door.

  I felt myself growing anxious as if I knew something big was about to happen. My senses were in overdrive. I felt the vibrations of people walking outside. I could smell the dirt they kicked up as they headed in my direction. I heard the faint sound of their feet stepping lightly on the ground beneath them. My feathers spread out and quivered with anticipation.

  “Someone’s here,” I whispered.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Trust me. I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know, okay?”

  “But I don’t hear anything. Are you sure?”

  “Oh for crying out loud. It’s like I have my own Spidey sense. Understand?”

  “Okay. That I get.”

  I rolled my eyes at my own personal king of the nerds.

  “Whatever happens, stay here,” I ordered, pointing to the floor beneath his feet.

  “If something is about to happen out there, you can trust that I don’t want to be anywhere but in here.”

  I hesitated for a moment. There was a reason I lived in the middle of nowhere. The lack of visitors was a plus. I didn’t need prying eyes discovering my existence, and I really didn’t need Sean getting caught in the crossfire. My gut feeling was unrelenting. Someone was on the other side of that door, and I was certain they had no
business being there. I turned the doorknob and stepped out into the sunlight.

  Chapter 3

  I made my way outside. It took me a second to adjust my eyes. Suddenly, there was a flash to my left, and I realized someone was rushing at me with a rather large sword.

  I ducked just in time as I felt the blade narrowly miss the top of my head.

  I swept the attacker’s legs out from under him. The glint of another sword caught my eye, so I tucked and rolled away as the edge slammed into the dirt outside my studio.

  I found my footing and stood tall to face my aggressors.

  There were four men and a woman standing before me, each wielding a sword. They were all dressed as if they had just dismounted a motorcycle, fully clad in black leather pants and skintight black leather jackets. It was nearly a cliché as I stood there, wondering why I was smiling at these would-be bikers. The bad guys—dressed in black.

  But they were clearly not as amused as I was.

  The woman charged me and swung her sword. I leaned to the side, and the blade missed me by a good foot. She brought it back and thrust it forward, aiming for my chest. My wings fully extended out as I jumped into the air. The attacker staggered back, clearly not prepared for my change in altitude. I kicked her in the head, and she landed on her back.

  The other four assailants lunged for me at once. I flew a bit higher, just out of their sinister reach. But the lanky, redheaded thug leapt up, higher than any normal human should be able to, and managed to grasp my ankle. He pulled me down hard, and I crashed to the dirt below. Dust billowed around me.

  I felt a hand close in around my neck, the fingers slowly crushing my windpipe. I wheezed, struggling to breathe, and tried to pry the redhead’s hands from around my throat. He was strong, but I was stronger.

  I managed to break free and scrambled backward as I gasped for air. My hands were bleeding from the struggle, and I reached up to touch my throat.

  My necklace was gone. Instant panic set in as my eyes frantically scoured the ground around me, trying to locate my missing heirloom. It was all I had left of my mother, and I needed to find it.

  Two of the attackers charged forward with their swords at the ready. I blocked their potential blows with my forearms. I spun and kicked one in the chest, which sent him flying into Sean’s car. I grabbed the other’s wrists, flipped him, and landed him flat on his back.

  From the corner of my eye, something shimmered on the ground to my right. I turned my head and spotted my necklace lying just a few feet away. Desperate to regain what was mine, I dove to the ground and clutched it in my bloody hands. My anger rose at the intruders who had nearly cost me an heirloom. I stared into their eyes defiantly, defenseless. But I didn’t care. I vowed to myself to make them pay.

  My fingers clutched the only thing in the world that I had left of my mother. I felt a vibration coming from within my grasp. It gradually increased in intensity until my hand shook so violently that I could scarcely hang on to the necklace.

  The blood from my fingers ran into the three symbols etched on the key, filling the crevices completely. A bright light began to radiate, its glow shining through every gap of my clenched fist. The necklace spun wildly inside my hand and forced me to release my grasp slightly. The silver accessory that once hung around my neck morphed into a large, leather bound hilt emblazoned with gold symbols. A silver blade sprouted from the hilt in a blaze of fire.

  The sword I held in my hand glowed bright with an array of reds and oranges as flames leapt off its edges. It was impressive, and for a moment even my enemies stood in awe of its greatness.

  “What the…” I couldn’t begin to grasp what had just occurred. My mind swirled with questions, such as the reason for the inexplicable transformation of my necklace into a weapon. I shook my head vigorously to see if my mind was playing tricks on me.

  But it was real. My fingers grasped the grip tightly. It provided me with a sudden burst of power that I’d never felt before. My body was alive with electricity.

  Swords raised above their heads, two of the warriors began their offensive in an effort to take me out.

  Still on the ground, I raised my sword, stopping their advance with a clang of metal hitting metal.

  My courage swelled as something stirred within me. I leapt into the air, wings spread out in all of their mighty splendor, and went on the attack. I flew at my two closest opponents, and with one swing of the blade, chopped off their heads, which landed with a thud onto the hard ground below. Their bodies stood stiff, only for a moment, and then dropped to their knees, falling over in defeat.

  Two more attackers advanced and hurdled into the air with supernatural strength. However, without wings, they couldn’t sustain their airborne status and quickly fell back to the earth. They vaulted themselves into the air once more, with their swords at the ready, and thrust their weapons at my chest. I countered, swinging my newfound blade, stopping theirs from striking me. They fell back to the ground. One of my rivals had hair as fiery as my blade. He sprang into the air, reaching for my foot, determined to bring me down. But I swung my blade, cutting off his hand before he managed to grab me.

  He plummeted to Earth and landed hard. My efforts had only managed to make him angrier. Blood poured from his wound, but he clutched his sword tightly in the hand that remained, crouched low, and pushed off with all his strength.

  But I was prepared. I used the force of my wings to disorient him. The air forced him back and gave me enough time to wield my blade, cutting off his head.

  Unfortunately, my victory was short-lived. In the heat of the commotion, I became distracted just enough that the female assailant somehow managed to grab my ankle and pulled me down—hard.

  I struggled for a moment to gain my bearings, but it was one moment too late. I was unable to block the tip of her sword from coming down directly into my shoulder. I screamed in agony as she turned the weapon counter-clockwise in an effort to worsen my injury and cause debilitating pain. She pulled out her sword and came at me again when her attempt was thwarted.

  It seemed someone else had joined the fight.

  I looked up to see another female clutching the hilt of a unique-looking sabre. Its curved edge had halted my enemy’s intended trajectory just shy of my chest. My attacker stepped back, clearly shocked and agitated at this intruder’s presence. The newcomer rotated the grip in her hand, swinging her blade around in a circle as a playful gesture. Her expression was one of anticipation and delight. She wore a brown, leather corset with molded armor across her chest. Her platinum blonde hair was cut short to her scalp, lips a bright crimson, and her eyes were as black as the night.

  My attacker was incensed at this new arrival’s interruption. She stormed ahead, and I watched in wonder as the two of them exchanged blow after blow, hearing the clang of their weapons striking. The female in black kicked hard, making direct contact to the chest of her rival. But the woman in the armor was unmoved. It was as if the fight was too easy.

  She smiled.

  My shoulder began to heal, my skin closing in around the wound. The pain subsided, and I once again stood ready to fight.

  “You okay?” asked my platinum savior matter-of-factly. She looked over at me. There was no concern in her eyes. Everything about her screamed strictly business and nothing more.

  I nodded my head. “I’m good.”

  The woman in black leather screamed with rage and raced for the sabre-wielding blonde.

  With one swift movement of her arm, the leather-clad attacker was beheaded, her body falling off to the side.

  We heard another scream and realized there was still one assailant left among us.

  He rushed ahead, sword at the ready.

  My female rescuer fended him off. They exchanged blows, their swords cutting through the air as if an extension of their own hands. But the attacker got lucky. The blonde female tripped backward over a large rock and held her sword in front of her, trying with all her strength to keep his bla
de from slicing through her chest.

  “Hey! Back off, jackass.” I spun my head to the side and witnessed a statuesque figure standing a few feet off to my left. My fingers tightened around the grip of my sword as I tried to figure out whose side this new player was on.

  It appeared that he was friend and not foe.

  He looked less warrior and more modern, wearing ripped, baggy jeans and a faded, skintight t-shirt that showed off his rock-hard abs. He had wavy, strawberry blonde hair with freckles to match. His eyes were the complete opposite of the blonde female’s. They were pale blue—so pale, in fact, that the color barely existed.

  He was attractive. At least I thought he was. I’d never been around enough men in my lifetime to make any kind of a comparison.

  The man in the black leather pants stepped back from the blonde warrior and faced off with the new arrival.

  “About time, Dorian. I thought you were going to let me do all the work again!” shouted his female companion.

  “And let you have all the fun? Not a chance!” He grinned. He appeared to be enjoying himself.

  He brandished half a Chakram in each hand. The half-moon blades he held had black, slight-S shaped grips. I recognized the weapon from my time in India during the 18th century. If put in the hands of a skilled warrior, they could be extremely deadly.

  And it became obvious that this new warrior was indeed skilled.

  The leather-clad aggressor charged ahead. Dorian used the curved blades to catch the attacker’s sword mid-swing, and then kicked him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward.

  “You’re not even trying!” shouted Dorian, trying to provoke the combatant.

  That only seemed to infuriate the man in black even more as he lunged, bringing his blade straight down from above Dorian’s head, who quickly slid to the side, allowing the blade to narrowly miss his shoulder by an inch. The two took a battle stance, eyeing each other and trying to get a feel for the other.

  And the battle continued. They danced about, striking and dodging each other’s blows. The sound of blade on blade was loud and fast. Both were extremely skilled, but I knew there could only be one victor.