Feel the Flames Page 9

  “Why?” I asked.

  “When Sean…disappeared…we had to close for a few weeks because we weren’t sure what to do. That set us back. A lot. And since we can’t exactly tell the authorities that a rogue angel killed him and that he isn’t actually really missing, everything’s in limbo. Unless his body is discovered, we have to wait seven years to declare him dead. I don’t have access to his bank accounts, his will, nothing.” Grace let out a long breath. “I’m pretty much screwed.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “Yeah. What I’d like to say is it’s okay, and it’s not your fault…but it sorta is.”

  “That was harsh.”

  “Just bein’ honest.”

  Grace made her way over to a glass case next to the counter and pulled a box knife out of her back pocket. She bent down to a box at her feet and sliced it down the middle. It contained models of comic book characters which she immediately began to relocate to the glass case. She was careful in her placement, making sure each one was positioned just right. It was obvious she was doing her best to ignore my presence, but her occasional sideways glance in my direction told me she was failing miserably.

  Even though Grace and I had gotten off on the wrong foot initially, there was something about her I respected…and even liked. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that Sean had trusted her, but there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Meanwhile, I continued to keep one eye on the customer who kept creeping closer and closer to the exit, never facing either of us. There was no doubt in my mind that he was up to something. Suddenly, he made a break for the door, but before he could escape, I was there in a heartbeat to block his way.

  “Excuse me,” he mumbled quietly, trying to sidestep me to leave.

  “Whoa there,” I said, sliding over to block his way one more time. The commotion drew Grace’s attention causing her stop what she was doing, a bust of Wonder Woman in her grip.

  The boy tried to push his way past me one more time, but I gripped him by his shoulders stopping him cold. He looked up at me, his mouth puckered out of anger.

  “Get off of me, you bitch,” he growled, teeth clenched.

  I didn’t release my grasp…at least not right away. A broad, playful smile spread across my face. I leaned down and met his gaze, eye-to-eye.

  “Look. You and I both know what’s going on here, so I’m going to give you a chance to not be a complete jackass and do the right thing. Otherwise, I can’t be held accountable for how I’ll react,” I said, calmly. “Your choice.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The boy jerked his shoulders free of my grip. I allowed him to take a step back. “Now get the hell out of my way before I make you.”

  I snorted loudly but shrugged and stepped aside to let him pass. He rushed for the exit, but at the last second I threw out my arm and clotheslined him, laying him out on the floor gasping for air. The comic books he’d stuffed under his jacket slid about in all directions. Grace, in a panic, hurried over and began to gather up the pilfered items. The boy held his throat and gasped for air. He managed to stand and clumsily stumbled his way to the door allowing it to shut hard behind him as he left.

  I bent down and picked up the Cyborg Rebirth at my feet, leafing through the pages.

  “I’ll never understand what Sean saw in all of this stuff,” I said, nonchalantly.

  “Give me that,” Grace said, yanking it gently from my fingers.

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “How about thanks for starters?”

  “Okay. Thanks for beating up some teenager in my store and tearing the front cover of a Fantastic Four in the process,” she said, waving it in my face.

  “Your lack of gratitude is a bit upsetting, Grace. Truly…that hurts my feelings.” I gripped my gut as if someone had punched me, trying to hold back a laugh.

  She rolled her eyes and placed all the ill-gotten booty next to the register and began to sort through it all.

  I cleared my throat loudly, tapping the floor with my toes in a quick, repetitive manner.

  “Ugh,” she grunted, tossing her head back. “Fine. Thank you.”

  “See? Your tongue didn’t even fall out of your mouth when you said it. And, you’re welcome. Anyway, I didn’t do it for you. This is still Sean’s store, and no little bastard is going to steal from Sean if I can help it.”

  Grace stopped and stared up at me.

  “I hate that no one knows what happened to him,” she said.

  I nodded. My feelings churned. I’d been able to accept Sean’s death, but the guilt had become a side effect that reared its ugly head from time to time. And knowing that his human friends and acquaintances didn’t know about his sacrifice or where he was buried had triggered my guilt to bubble to the surface once more.

  “What am I supposed to do now? How do I keep the store running without him? He was the heart of this place. He only had two employees: me and Carter. And Carter took off a few weeks after Sean disappeared. So, now it’s just me, and this was just supposed to be a temporary gig until I figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn’t plan on running a comic book shop my entire life.” She dropped her head and stared at the counter.

  I reached over and picked up the comics that Grace had sorted from the little thief. I quietly headed to the back shelves and placed them all back where they belonged.

  “There has to be something you can do. Place an anonymous phone call. Tell the authorities where he’s buried,” she said, stepping out from behind the counter.

  I didn’t turn around. My fingers danced their way down the shelves, straightening the comics one by one. I imagined Sean doing the exact same thing, wandering through the store, making sure everything was in its place.

  Grace remained silent, but I could hear her footsteps drawing closer behind me. I felt her standing there, angrily boring a hole into the back of my head with her heated stare.

  “Say something,” she ordered.

  But I didn’t how to respond. Nothing I said would solve her problems. And even if I did report Sean’s whereabouts to the cops, there would be questions. Questions that needed to remain unanswered.

  I turned and found myself face to face with her. Her expression showed little emotion apart from the frown lines burrowed deep into her forehead.

  “With your wings gone and no sword, you aren’t nearly as scary,” she said.

  I blinked twice and leaned in, leaving barely an inch between our faces.

  “Trust me. I’m still just as dangerous,” I replied, my fingers finding their way to the key hanging from my neck.

  “Why can’t you just tell me where he’s buried?” she asked.

  I drew in a long, deep breath and allowed it to escape my lips. I stepped away and went back about my business of straightening up the shelves.

  “Because I won’t do that to him. Finding him—the authorities go and uncover his body—they dig him up—they drag him back to a small, impersonal room and lay him out on a large, metal slab and cut him open to discover how he died. And then what? They’ll investigate a murder that they’ll never solve. Then what? They cremate him? Bury him in a cemetery at the edge of town? Place a marker at his feet that says Sean Frances Martin followed by two dates and nothing more? He’s better off where he is. It’s where he sacrificed himself to win a battle for humanity. It’s where he looked his enemy in the eye, and with his last breath showed the Hybrids what true bravery looked like. So, I can’t tell you where he’s buried because I will not have someone disturbing his grave and defiling his body to get answers that no one could possibly understand.”

  Grace stared at me. My words must have sunk in as her mouth sat agape at my response. The bell above the front door chimed.

  A different kid walked into the store, skateboard hanging at his side, his hand gripped around one of the wheels. To me, he didn’t look like the type who
’d be interested in comic books, but then I had little to compare him to. My only baseline was Sean and Grace, misfits by society’s standards. But the newcomer looked more like an athlete than someone who might be interested in the latest Spider-Man comic.

  His hair was shaggy and blond, his shoulders and arms well-toned for someone his age. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen years old, wearing a faded black tank top featuring the word VANS in bold white lettering across his chest. His jeans were tight and rolled up at the ankles, large holes worn through both knees. He was incredibly good-looking, and I caught myself staring at him. His presence didn’t go unnoticed by my pink-haired companion, either. Grace’s eyes were wide with admiration, following his every move as he seemed to stride confidently through the store. I tried to casually clear my throat to get her attention, but my efforts went unnoticed as she continued to gawk at him awkwardly.

  I had to admit that there was something about him. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was almost too attractive, but then I didn’t have much experience being around many actual mortals. When my entire measuring stick for gauging the attractiveness of male humans was based solely on Dorian, Sean and the old men who had trained me in martial arts and sword fighting in years past, my idea of what was typical was obviously skewed in comparison.

  His gaze wandered about the store, taking it all in. As he caught sight of Grace’s awed expression, his expression turned coy. I elbowed her hard in the side and she bolted upright, grabbing where I’d struck her, turning bright red in the process at being caught.

  “C-can I help you find anything?” she finally asked, shooting me a dirty sideways glance.

  But to my dismay, he seemed to be suddenly interested in me. His eyes appeared to study every inch of my form—and it was making me uncomfortable. I wandered off and nonchalantly sauntered to the back room where posters and figurines were prominently displayed. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned around to discover he had followed me. He clearly had no comprehension regarding personal space. In fact, he was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face. I backed up and put a hand out in front of me to keep him from drawing any closer.

  “Looking for something in particular?” I asked brusquely.

  He looked me up and down, far too interested in my presence. His smirk gave me the creeps. His attention was unwanted, and I felt a sudden urge to let my wings appear and fly away.

  “You could say that,” he replied, finally.

  But he remained still, staring me down.

  “I don’t work here,” I said. “If you’re looking for something specific, you’ll need to ask the pink-haired geek in the next room. She’ll be the one with a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.”

  My words were followed by a large thud from around the corner, and Grace muttering “dammit.”

  “You okay?” I yelled.

  “Fine,” Grace barked back tersely.

  My admirer didn’t move, his gaze still affixed on me. His eyes moved up and down, taking in nearly every inch of my being. He edged closer, forcing me to bump into an old chair behind me. The metal legs scraped across the floor creating an eerie screech that bounced off the walls, forcing goose bumps to appear on my arms.

  His smile wasn’t pleasant, and it seemed to hide an ulterior motive. I tried to read his face, but I couldn’t make out his intentions. Although, I was fairly certain it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice mellow and smooth.

  “My name isn’t any of your business. And I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”

  “How would you know?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Something in my chest fluttered, and I felt rattled. I couldn’t pinpoint what I was feeling or why, but I most definitely didn’t like how it affected me. My breathing became erratic, and I fought to keep my composure. The more I struggled to maintain calm, the angrier I became at how he was affecting me.

  He shrugged, then looked me over again. “Something tells me you haven’t had a lot of experience with the opposite sex.”

  “My experience doesn’t concern you.” I sniffed loudly and clenched my jaw. It took everything I had not to punch the stranger in the face.

  “Your experience does concern me. It concerns me deeply. So deeply, that I’d be willing to provide a bit of one-on-one personal attention.”

  I had grown impatient with his creepy demeanor and couldn’t contain my disdain any longer.

  “Look. I can appreciate how hard you’re working at the whole quiet-intelligence-thing, and if you’re going for the whole undateable vibe, it’s working. If you must know, you’re just coming across as a complete perve, and frankly I’m done talking to you.”

  I gave him a wide berth and made my way toward the front door.

  “Grace. I’m gonna go,” I glanced back over my shoulder. “I’ll come back another time,” I said flatly.

  “No rush,” said Grace.

  “It was good to see you, too.” The obvious sarcasm in my voice caused Grace’s face to contort with sheer annoyance.

  I pulled the door shut behind me as hard as I could without breaking the glass. It was important to let him know that I was angry, but I didn’t want to ruin Grace’s day by breaking her door.

  Over the next few hours, I just wandered about. I tried to take in every building, every statue, and every person I passed on the street. I must have looked odd, a teenage girl walking all over town in bare feet, but most people didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me. It seemed strange that humans reacted the way they did upon seeing someone that looked different than them. As the day progressed, I watched with sadness at how people ignored one another and at times were even rude. It took everything I had not to intervene when I witnessed a grown man knock a young child down as they passed one another on the sidewalk without even stopping to apologize. I wondered if that was the reason why Sean used to spend most of his time at his store, his trailer, or my place.

  But there were also times as I wandered about town that my faith in humanity was restored. Simple things like holding open doors and smiling at someone who was obviously having a bad day reminded me about something Sean used to tell me.

  He’d say, “Humanity can be ugly, Skyy. People sometimes don’t realize that we’re really not all that different from one another. But you can’t let the ugly keep you from seeing all the beautiful things humanity is capable of. If you took the time to really look, I think you’d find that most people mean well.”

  The sun had started to set behind the horizon. That was when I heard Dorian inside my head asking me when I would be heading home. His voice sounded stern, and I wasn’t sure why he was so uptight.

  “I’ll be home once it’s dark enough for me to fly home unnoticed,” I replied, annoyance in my voice. “Unless you want someone to discover my existence. I mean, if you’re ready for that kind of attention, by all means…I’ll fly home now.”

  I heard him grunt in response before spitting out, “Fine.” And then his thoughts were gone.

  He’d shut me out telepathically.

  I was irritated at his response and how he’d been acting lately. There was something going on with him, but I wasn’t positive what it could be. I wanted to be understanding since I knew he was probably still getting used to his angel existence.

  After all, no sleep and no food would make any guy cranky.

  At least that’s what I’d been told.

  Chapter 9

  Dorian pouted for hours after I arrived home a little after midnight. His attitude was dour as he continued to barrage me with hypothetical situations regarding Naberius’s minions and what I’d do if they cornered me when I wasn’t prepared. He made it sound as if someone was constantly lurking in the shadows wherever I went, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I’d be able to sense if danger was that close, and I doubted that Naberius needed to have me followe
d to know where I was. The fact that he found me when no one knew where I lived told me he had other ways of keeping track of me. In the end, it felt like Dorian was being a bit too protective about it all, and I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

  I spent the next few days in my studio painting and sculpting, trying to forget what an ass Dorian had been. Most of the time, he was even-tempered and funny. But lately, his mood was all over the place, and I found myself tiptoeing on eggshells to keep him from snapping at me. I knew his new existence had proven to be a bit of a challenge for someone who once lived as a mortal, so I figured I’d just give him his space and let him figure out how to cope on his own. If he needed my advice or any help in coping, he knew where to find me. But until then, I figured I’d let him stew for a bit longer.

  I grabbed the clay sculpture of a falcon I’d just completed and carefully walked it over to my drying shelf. I set it at the edge and slid it back, being careful not to damage or drop it. Falcons had been on my mind lately. It seemed extremely coincidental that I’d seen the same type of rare bird over those past few days, but to see one so close on the top of that hotel, seemingly unafraid of someone like me, made me wonder if it was coincidence or something more.

  As I cleaned up my work area, I couldn’t get the kid from the comic book store out of my head. He’d seemed far too interested in me, but even though his actions may have appeared flirtatious, albeit in a creepy way, it felt as if there had been more to it. It was just a feeling, but our encounter left me believing I hadn’t seen the last of him.

  With the last of the tools put away and things wiped down as much as they could be, I made my way to the sink in the far corner. I bumped the handle with my left elbow, and water began to flow from the faucet. I ran my hands under the flow, allowing the drying clay to moisten a bit. My thumbs rubbed away any remnants from my palms and knuckles, filling the sink with reddish-brown water that continuously circled the drain.