Grounded for All Eternity, page 3
Or would be, anyway.
“No fair, I’m stuck with Methuselah. My house is starting to smell like old man,” I said.
“I’ve got orders to stay inside until the fence goes down,” Crowley said. “And my brother is in charge, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Ridiculous. How’d you luck out, Lilith?”
“You all know I’m the mature one,” Lilith gloated. “My mom trusts that I’m not going to blow up the house.”
“I wouldn’t blow up the house. I just want to stretch my wings,” I grumbled. “Hey, that was me, jerk. Don’t hit me.”
“Oh sorry, was that you?” Crowley snickered. “My bad. You should really get out of the way. Oh, there goes your head.”
“Not cool, Crowley,” Aleister said, but he sounded way too amused for it to mean much.
“Dude? Knock it off,” I shouted, earning an evil laugh from Crowley and an exclamation of “Pudding!” from Methuselah, who promptly went back to sleep.
“This is not the vacation I wanted,” I muttered as I regenerated my character. There was silence over the headsets in what I took as unspoken agreement.
FIVE
Day two was a lot of the same. My parents were barely home, the fence stayed high, the flames illuminated the sky, and Methuselah slept on the couch. Preparations for Samhain had been put on hold, and the news scrolls speculated on whether public celebrations would happen at all, which seemed a bit much.
By evening I had to go outside.
I synced my ankle tether to my skateboard—a necessity if you were skating with wings—and with a push of my foot and a flap of wings, I was up the ramp by our shed, across my favorite leaning tree, and as close to freedom as I’d felt since that brief game of King of the Cage, when everything had gone to… well, home.
“MALACHI!” shouted my father in absolute fury.
I missed the heel flip I was attempting and had to flap my wings to keep myself airborne and not nose-dive off my second-story roof. My skateboard floated within range of my ankle, wheels still spinning.
“Get down here now,” snarled my father. His wings were extended, and the flames in his eyes burned so bright that I could see them from the air. I had never seen my dad this angry.
I dove to the ground.
“Get into the house,” he said.
I did, without even a question or witty response. Self-preservation was a strong instinct.
“What do you think you were doing?”
“Skateboarding,” I said, pointing out the obvious.
“The prisoner is still on the loose, and you might as well be a neon sign on the roof of the house saying, ‘Here I am!’ ”
“I was just getting some air, and I think it’s obvious people live here. You know, with the houses and all!” Okay, apparently my attitude could overcome self-preservation. It was probably something I should work on.
“Don’t be so reckless,” my father said. “You have to be better than this. How is your squad going—” He stopped and took an enormous breath. It was too late. I knew what he’d been about to say, and it was a low blow. I stormed up the stairs, using my feet so they pounded all the way up.
“Mal,” Dad said. He sighed, and then I heard him switch directions to talk to Methuselah instead. Good, I didn’t want to talk to him anyway.
Bad enough that destiny had chosen my future, but to then suggest that I wouldn’t even be good at it? GAH! Stab me with a pitchfork.
I slammed my door tight, but in the safety of my own room, my anger didn’t mellow out like it usually did. It grew and grew until I was shaking. It wasn’t just about being yelled at or having my ride ruined. It was my destiny being thrown into my face yet again. Because not only had my birth somehow decreed the rest of my eternity but I also had to be tracked and molded and shaped and trained, without anyone asking me what I wanted.
I didn’t want to think about this. I didn’t want everything to change. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because Samhain was coming, and with it a new year, the year when my squad would all be separated into our specialties. I mean sure, we’d be together forever, but first we had to learn our individual roles within the squad. And that meant separate schools and studies to crush us into perfect little soldiers to save all of creation. But yeah, no pressure.
Why couldn’t I just have the week of freedom we had planned? One more week with my friends with possibilities still in front of me, even if they weren’t really possibilities except in my own rebellious mind.
I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes and threw myself away from my bed. My eyes burned and my chest hurt, and even being surrounded by my favorite band posters and books and music and squishy pillows was not helping. I flung open my closet door and dug into the back corner, past boots that barely fit and pants I wore only to dances, past an old skateboard Aleister had given me for my ninth birthday, and an old diary I barely remembered writing in. I was frantically grabbing at anything until my hand closed over the smooth velvet bag hidden inside a ballet slipper too scuffed to use. My fist tightened and I fell back on my butt, my prize in hand.
My breath came quicker, and I forced myself to be quiet, afraid Dad would decide we still needed to talk. Like that had ever done us any good in the history of ever. I closed my hand tightly and felt the hard edges dig into my flesh. My stomach churned even thinking about opening it, but in a burst of rage or panic (who could tell the difference?), I emptied the velvet bag into my hand.
The crystal glowed a warm gold in my palm before I pinched the ends between my thumb and forefinger to hold it directly in my eyeline. A spark of creation distilled from the feather of an archangel’s wing, trapped in crystal, just waiting to be used. And just like the power of creation, the spark contained infinite possibilities.
Straight from the Archangel Gabriel, kiddo, Tony had said.
I didn’t necessarily believe that Tony, with his hologame bootlegs and tacky musical ties, had traveled to Heaven, although I supposed he could have traded with someone who had. I wasn’t banking on the spark being from Gabriel. Lucifer was the only archangel here. It would be hard, but not impossible, to get a few of his golden feathers if you were willing to try, and in the end it didn’t really matter who the spark came from, just that I had it.
Change in Hell was harder than pulling teeth, which is really quite simple with the proper tools. But I could change anything with the spark, including my destiny.
One time.
I took a deeper breath, feeling myself calm even as my stomach continued to twist. I had options. I looked past the glowing crystal into the mirror opposite me. The glow hid what I was sure would otherwise be bloodshot eyes. My cheeks were flushed, but if I ignored the twisting in my stomach, I could pretend it was from the skateboarding. My hair still looked awesome, so that was a plus. My wings were still puffed up from stress, but my feelings were so mixed looking at them that I focused back on my reflected face. I smirked. That was better.
Another deep breath, and I returned the crystal to its bag and shoved it under a pile of clothes in the corner of my room. I felt better knowing I had options, even if those options were terrifying. If I wasn’t what Fate had decreed, what was I?
* * *
Day three was worse.
By day four the ice cream was gone, the house smelled deeply like old man, and Crowley wasn’t even bothering to kill my gaming character anymore. On day five I screamed out my window. A gargoyle may or may not have screeched back at me. Methuselah didn’t seem to notice.
Day six… my will to survive was weak.
My vacation was almost over. I’d be back in school in no time, alone in my brand-new classes with pompous jerks fighting for dominance. If they even opened school on time, that was.
I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for. On the one hand, school staying closed? Yes, please! That sounded amazing! And a super-convenient way to avoid what I was dreading. Maybe it would never open again. On the other hand, what good was that if I was trapped at home with a babysitter? Oh, unholy darkness, what if I had to homeschool with Methuselah?
Our large Samhain gathering of what Mom called “found family” had been canceled. The town celebrations had been indefinitely postponed. I didn’t necessarily want to start my new school, but this wasn’t an improvement.
Dust motes swirled above my head. I thought about voluntarily cleaning for the first time in my life but quickly dismissed the idea.
When the first hiss of “Mal” came through my window, I assumed I was going crazy. After all, I had considered calling Dad to ask where the dusting supplies were.
“Mal. C’mon, loser.”
I didn’t think my imagination would call me a loser, but I couldn’t be sure.
There had been that whole internal debate about whether fake lemon helped make less dust or just made the motes smell like fake lemon—unmistakably loser-ish conversation.
“Mote.” It was a funny word. Why did a castle moat and a dust mote sound the same? That made no sense.
“Mal!”
This time the hiss was quite possibly the loudest whisper that could still technically be called a whisper. My theater teacher would say it had nice projection to the back rows.
A skill to be used for commanding my squad, of course, not for being an actor. Lucifer forbid it to be used for a fun career.
I pulled myself out of bed and shuffled over to my window to peer out. Lilith, Aleister, and Crowley were all hovering outside, grinning evilly. For a moment it was pure happiness to see my squad all together outside my window.
Then I realized I was standing there in my TUESDAY boxer shorts.
Embarrassing enough if it were Tuesday, but even worse seeing as it was Thursday. I would like to think I had just put on the wrong day, but I knew better.
I grabbed a throw blanket and held it in front of my incriminating boxers as Aleister snickered, Crowley rolled his eyes, and Lilith looked away. Maybe she hadn’t noticed?
“This is my room, you know,” I said, blushing despite the accusation in my voice. I was supposed to be in charge of them? Ha! Reason three thousand and one for using the alternative hidden in a small velvet bag.
My parents both had the exact role I was supposed to have, and they didn’t goof off with their squadrons. Ever. In fact, I had seen my mom make hers cry on the regular. Their squads certainly didn’t come over and hang out.
“C’mon, dude! Jailbreak,” Lilith said, the light of the flames glinting off her black wings making them appear blue and purple in places. She was dressed in a white top, a delicate gold necklace at her throat, and stylishly distressed jeans.
She was perfect.
And I was in my two-day-old boxers.
“Seriously?” I asked, desperate to change the subject as I shoved myself into jeans while scrambling to hold up the blanket covering my delicates. “How did you ditch your babysitters?”
“Well, I never had one, of course,” Lilith said, perched on my windowsill like an angel in repose.
Or something. Whatever.
“My ignoramus of a brother snuck out to be with his girlfriend,” Crowley said.
“And his brother’s girlfriend happens to be Scarlett, who is at my house—doing a terrible job babysitting, I might add, seeing that I am gone,” Aleister said. He was wearing a football jersey that hung large over ripped jeans, and a ridiculous yellow bandana in his dark hair, which was apparently his latest attempt at fashion.
“Let’s go,” Crowley said, flying a lazy circle in the air.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Aleister called, his voice fading into the distance.
I pulled a T-shirt on, spreading my wings to fit comfortably through the slots, and grabbed a zip-up hoodie, which sent a certain velvet bag tumbling to the ground. Without the fun I had planned for vacation, my existential crises were coming fast and furious, and I had found myself looking at my last-ditch option more than once. I shoved it into my pocket, blushing slightly even though there was no way my friends could know what I was hiding, and launched myself out my second-floor window, following my friends to anywhere better.
We were careful to fly below the tree line, not wanting to be vibrant silhouettes against the flaming sky, before touching down lightly on the cobblestone sidewalk outside Pandemonium Park.
“Aww, man,” whined Aleister. “They canceled the games tomorrow.” He gestured to a flyer on the stone wall outside the park. It had previously advertised the annual games that took place here every year the day after Samhain, but now it was stamped with one word: CANCELED.
“Obviously,” said Lilith. “Everything’s canceled.”
“That’s such garbage,” he grumbled. “I’ve been practicing for the pie-eating contest. I had it this year.”
“Wait, tomorrow?” I blurted. “Today’s Samhain?”
“Oh, for the—” groaned Crowley. “Seriously? How do you not know that?”
Samhain, also known as All Hallows’ Eve or Halloween, marked the start of the new year, normally a time of celebration, but with the escaped prisoner still on the loose, all the celebrations had been nixed, and with my parents working every second of every day, the normal baking hadn’t been done. My house felt the very opposite of festive. Instead of smelling like apples and rosemary, it smelled like spearmint and stale cigars. When combined with my absolute dread of the new year, and my lack of awareness of the day, as evidenced by my sad boxers, it was no surprise that I had completely forgotten today was the day.
That was so depressing.
Crowley pushed open the black iron gate, which swung noiselessly, and we entered the park. The fountain burbled, and the lockdown flames were so bright that the bioluminescent moss seemed dull in comparison, just random splashes of faintly glowing color. The park was empty, and we quickly veered off the cobblestone path to make our way into the woods.
The flame light cast long shadows, and the branches stretched like bony fingers, forming a protective canopy above. Dead leaves crunched under our feet while the spindly-legged variety scrambled up and down the trees like spiders, giving the woods a cozy, inhabited feeling—something the empty park had been missing.
The cinnamon and dead-leaf scent of the woods smelled like freedom, and I took a deep breath. Much better than old-man smell.
While I still had a pang of loss at everything that had been canceled, I was so grateful to be out of my house that I felt happier than I had in days.
It didn’t even matter where we were going. It didn’t matter that we were walking instead of flying. All that mattered was that I was out of my house with my friends, finally getting the devilish distraction I wanted.
SIX
I don’t care if she is your brother’s girlfriend. She’s hot,” Aleister said, tightrope-walking his way along a fallen tree, his arms extended, wings twitching whenever his balance wavered.
“Don’t be gross,” Crowley said, throwing a small stick in Aleister’s general direction.
“She is, dude. Have you looked at her?” Aleister taunted. “He’d better watch out. I think she likes me.”
“She does not like you,” Crowley said.
“She does. I can tell,” Aleister said.
“She’s a senior, and you are a cretin,” Crowley said. “Though, she does have questionable taste, dating my brother and all.”
“Not for long,” Aleister replied, and then snickered.
“You’re an idiot,” Crowley said.
“You’re both idiots,” I said, before ripping Aleister’s yellow bandana off him. “And this is stupid.”
“Hey!” protested Aleister. “I like it!”
“I’m helping you.” I laughed and shoved his hands away.
“Whoa,” Aleister said, freezing in his tracks. I took advantage of his distraction and pocketed the yellow abomination before turning to see what I had missed.
“What is that?” I asked.
We had nearly made our way through the unrestricted section of the woods and were only feet from the fence, which normally stood a lot lower to the ground. Beyond the black metal protection of the town fence was more of the same forest. That section of Hell wasn’t residential, even though the land didn’t look any different until you got much farther out. At least it didn’t usually look any different.
Today it had a strange quality to it. Where the fence had always seemed an impenetrable guardian before, the area in front of me now looked shimmery and insubstantial. It was surrounded by foliage, and only the lower portion of the fence looked normal. The world beyond the fence was barely visible through the distortion.
“It’s starting,” Lilith said excitedly.
“I can’t believe it’s really here,” Aleister said in awe.
“No way,” Crowley said.
“What is it?” I asked, feeling a step behind.
“It’s the veil,” Lilith said, her eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed with color. It distracted my brainpower for a minute, but then the words finally broke through and made sense.
“Wait, the veil? Like, out of Hell?” I asked.
“It’s Samhain,” Lilith said. “The way is opening.”
Samhain was the day of the year when the separation between worlds was thinnest. Not just between the mortal coil and the great hereafters but between other dimensions as well. Sometimes the thinning was so great that things could pass through, but anything with any intelligence stayed on their proper side. Wandering around a dimension that was not your own was asking for trouble.
“No way,” I said. “How did you know this was here?”
“I found a note in my mom’s office predicting an unauthorized rip around here, but then the escape happened, and she’s gotten way behind,” Lilith said. “She probably didn’t even see the note come in. It was one of those automated-alert things she gets all the time.”
“Nice,” Aleister said, giving Lilith a high five.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone about it?” I asked. “I mean, with Samuel Parris loose, shouldn’t they be looking at all the possible exits?”
