Rising, page 12
part #3 of Girl With Broken Wings Series
“I wish you wouldn’t talk at me like that,” a southern-tinged voice purrs from the top of the staircase. The voice belongs to a leggy blonde who makes her way down the stairs. Her golden hair is captured in a long, thick braid that swings like a pendulum with her steps.
She stops at the bottom of the stairs and gives War an indulgent smile.
“I’m waiting for my sugar,” War says.
Rachel walks over and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. Standing next to each other, the blonde women are clearly identical twins, but they hardly look alike. Rachel wears no makeup, and her curves are muted by a soft red sweater that hangs past her hips. Heather’s face is a palette of colors, her eyes racooned with even more eyeliner than I use when I’m in my Goth moods. Her jeans are so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if the denim has fused to her skin.
Rachel looks at me, and I hold my breath. She was the one on the rooftop, the one who drained the police officer. She didn’t see me though…at least I don’t think she saw me.
“You’re not fully Ascended,” Rachel says. “You the one Diamond’s looking for?”
“War killed himself some Vigils. He killed Vigils!” Heather squeaks and jumps up and down clutching War’s arm.
Rachel looks at me, and I know she must see that I’m the one with the glow of energy beneath my skin. She doesn’t say anything.
“What are Vigils?” a girl on the couch asks. I notice large, honey-colored eyes, wild brown curls, and a small heart tattoo etched on the side of her neck.
“And why do you guys have stupid names for everything?” the guy next to her adds.
“Let’s take this upstairs,” Blue Eyes says.
“Vigils are big, bad, evil humans who spend every waking minute of every day hunting down angels just like you!” War says, his voice taking on an overdramatic, spooky tone like he was telling a ghost story to kids over a camp fire. “There’s dozens of them, all ex-Navy Seals who train day and night and use their government contacts to track angels by satellite. All they live for is to put a bullet right through your head.” He makes a gun with his thumb and forefinger. “BANG!”
Heather squeaks, and the young angels on the couch giggle at her.
“Why?” asks the girl with the tattoo.
“Why what?”
“Why do they want to kill us?”
War frowns. “Cause they’re jealous. They want to be like us.”
I keep my mouth sealed shut, but my thoughts are spinning. He can’t actually think we’re Navy Seals, that we have access to satellites. He must be playing to the room, right?
“Come on,” Blue Eyes says and leads us toward the stairs.
“SpongeBob SquarePants,” the girl demands behind us.
“SpongeBob SquarePants sucks!” the boy complains.
“If, by ‘suck’, you mean it’s hilarious, than yeah. Give me the remote.”
We climb the stairs. Blue Eyes is in front, and War brings up the rear, an arm wrapped around each sister. I glance behind, first at the retreating front door, and then at the boy with the red hair whose eyes follow our procession. When he notices my gaze, he quickly ducks back into the kitchen.
“Where’s Trevor?” War asks his girls.
“Went out with his Cherub to feed a couple hours ago,” Rachel responds. “Should be back any minute.”
Eleven, twelve, I think.
“Speaking of Cherubs, I suppose I should go check on mine,” War says. “How’s she holding up?”
Heather wrinkles her nose. “All she done is cry and holler.”
Rachel’s face clouds with concern. “She’s upset about feeding yesterday.”
Blue Eyes looks back. “You should not have Ascended her,” he says to War. “She was too young, and she didn’t accept the gift.”
“I gave her a choice,” War says defensively. “She just needs a little more time to adjust, and the loving influence of a great mentor.”
At the top of the stairs, Blue Eyes starts to the left, but War steers his ladies toward a thick oak door. He disengages from the women and pushes open the door. Inside, a pretty black teenager lies on a leather couch in a ransacked billiards room. Her hair is in disarray, her face streaky with tears. She looks up at us with dazed brown eyes.
War clucks his tongue at her. “All you’re seeing is the downside,” he says. “You said you wanted a new life.”
“I…I…,” she murmurs and then seems to give up on whatever her answer was going to be. Instead, her almond eyes find mine and alight with interest.
“Ohhhh, I think she likes to you,” Heather whispers in my ear, “or maybe just that little ol’ aura of yours.”
“Well, you’ve got a new life,” War says to the girl. He pulls Heather and Rachel closer. “We’re angels, baby,” he says loud and proud. “We take what we want, and it feels so damn good.”
The teenager looks down and nods.
“You just need a little more fine dining,” War says. “I’ll take you out tonight, find you a nice treat before we pack up. By next week, you’ll look back on all this and laugh.”
The girl’s lower lip trembles. War backs out of the room and kicks the door shut. He clicks his tongue again. “Here I am, giving this bitch the time of her life, and she doesn’t even appreciate it.”
“Come on,” Blue Eyes says. “Diamond…”
“Already knows she’s here,” War finishes. “What’s the weather like?”
Blue Eyes shrugs. “Clear skies.”
“Lucky you,” War says to me. “You ready to meet the boss?”
“Got nothing to hide,” I say. Anger, hot and crackling, threatens to turn my tongue into a blade. That girl was changed against her will. A slave to the hunger. Her life stolen away. Forever a monster. Like me.
“Good.” War gives me that wicked grin that makes his beady eyes shine. “Cause Diamond’s really good at sniffing out lies.”
“She hates when people lie to her,” Heather says. She seems to naturally bounce every time she speaks.
I feel the first slight chill of fear ride down my spine, but quickly push it away. I’m still flushed with energy and cling to the confidence it affords. Whatever’s down this hallway, I’ll handle it. I want to face this Diamond, see who she is, what she knows, and then I’ll bring this whole house down on their heads…somehow.
Our steps eat up the distance of the long hallway. Behind a door, I hear a deep guttural moan accompanied by a rhythmic thudding, which I assume is a headboard. The sound of a spank is followed by a girl’s shriek, which peels off into giggles.
Thirteen, fourteen….
Blue Eyes touches the chain at his neck.
Heather titters. “Who’s in there?” she asks.
“Michael and Tanda,” Rachel replies.
“Oh, she’s fat though,” Heather says.
Blue Eyes approaches two frosted glass doors at the end of the hallway. He waits, and I feel a familiar pulse of static crackle across my mind followed by a steady hum. Someone is a mind talker, like Kyle was. Maybe it’s Blue Eyes or Diamond if she’s the one behind the glass doors. I shift my feet and watch a chunk of ice slide from the toe of my boot onto the carpet.
“Nicolas and Warren, come in,” a soft voice says from behind the door.
“Ladies, why don’t you claim a nice bed for me,” War says to his two blonde companions. “Something without a lot of cum on it.”
“What if it’s your cum?” Heather asks with a teasing smile.
War thinks about this for a moment. “Then I guess it’s okay, since you two really like my cum.”
“I don’t.” Heather wrinkles her button nose. “It smells funny.”
“It does?” War takes a step toward her. “You don’t like how it smells?” He snatches her chin and pulls her down to his eye level. She gives a cry and puts her hands on his wrist.
“She didn’t mean nothing by it,” Rachel says.
“You just haven’t had enough yet, you know, to get used to it, right Heather?” War’s fingers dig into the sides of her face.
Heather looks up at him with round, tear-rimmed eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“So, I’ll just have to give you more. A whole lot more.”
“War,” Nicolas interrupts. I’m not sure if his frown means he’s concerned with War’s treatment of Heather or that they’re keeping Diamond.
“Get a bed ready,” War says and pushes Heather away. The red streaks left by his fingers are stark against her pale skin. War and Nicolas walk into the office and close the door behind them.
“You can’t be teasing him about his cock,” Rachel lectures her sister even as she wraps an arm around her shoulders. “He always goes berserk.”
“I didn’t say nothing about his cock,” Heather huffs and touches her jaw tenderly. The red marks are already blooming into bruises. “All cum smells funny, it’s just a fact.”
“Not War’s cum. His smells like flowers,” Rachel says, and they both laugh. She looks over at me, and I can’t stifle the dubious expression on my face fast enough. Rachel frowns and takes her arm from her sister’s shoulders.
“You ever been to Rigsby, Virginia?” she asks.
“Me? No.”
“Most folk haven’t. It’s poor as all hell. School only got three classrooms. Some kids don’t have more than a single pair o’ shoes. Lot of folk drink. There just ain’t much work.”
“We didn’t even have a proper toilet,” Heather adds.
“Okaaay,” I say, because I’ve obviously missed the train to this conversation.
“You wonder why we’re with him,” Rachel says. “Why we let him do this.” She beckons to her sister’s face. “But you ain’t never been to Rigsby, so you got no right to judge.”
“I ain’t…I mean, I’m not judging.” I hold up my hands.
Rachel’s mouth tightens. “Yeah ya are.”
“War said to get a bed ready,” Heather says. She touches her jaw again, though the bruises are already beginning to fade. Tim McGraw interrupts our conversation with a long croon. Heather fumbles in her pocket as the two girls turn and walk off, their hips swaying together.
Heather pulls out a pink bejeweled phone, looks at the number, and crinkles her brow. She puts it to her ear.
“Hello?”
Rachel knocks on a door and then opens it.
“Hang on, hang on, I ain’t Janice,” Heather says as the door closes behind her.
Rigsby, Virginia; I have no idea what to do with that. I take a breath and dismiss the conversation. Time to focus. I turn back toward the glass doors. It was stupid of them to leave me alone. I could walk right back down the stairs and out of the house. Maybe I should. I know the address now. I know what half of the angels look like. If Tarren is nearby, maybe I can find him.
My feet stay planted. War said they were leaving tonight. If I duck out now, we could lose the entire group. Who knows where they’ll show up next, and how many bodies we’ll have to follow to find them. And the Ascensions. If they create new angels in each town they feast on, this situation could grow to utterly fucked proportions real quick, if it isn’t there already. No, I need to stay here. Find an opening.
Kill this Diamond woman, I think to myself, and the rest will scatter. They’re young, inexperienced. Tarren and I can pick them off, easy.
I think about that poor girl in the study, her eyes puffy with tears and the hunger wild in her gaze. Maybe I can help some of them. Teach them how to control—
The glass doors open. War and Nicolas step out.
“You passed the first test,” War says.
“Yay for me,” I respond.
“You didn’t try to run. That would’ve been real bad.” He leer gets extra creepy. “Diamond gets a little stormy when people try to pull shit on her.” He laughs abruptly like he just said the funniest thing in the world.
“Inside,” Nicolas jerks his head toward the doors.
“What, am I going to, like, get interrogated?” I ask.
“Not an interrogation,” War says. “A pleasant conversation.”
“Pleasant, huh?”
“No handcuffs.” War glances down the hall as if the talk of handcuffs has suddenly brought a different thought to mind. “Where did my ladies go?”
“Second door on the left,” I tell him.
“You should stay,” Nicolas says to him. “In case Diamond needs us.”
“If she needs us she’ll call,” War taps his head.
So Diamond is the mind talker. Good. That’s a relatively benign ability, which means she shouldn’t be too difficult to kill. I can take her down nice and quiet, then pretty Nick and ugly War. That fucker definitely needs a date with a ditch. If I get a chance, I’ll take out the twins too, and the Cherubs will come later. I shiver, though with fear or adrenaline, I’m not sure. Can Mousey Maya really kill five people with her little bare hands?
Mousey Maya isn’t here, the monster purrs in my mind. You’ll do it because you have to.
“Go on,” Nicolas says to me. I square my shoulders, open the glass door, and enter the room. The door closes behind me, pulled shut by telekinesis. I immediately feel the throb of intense power, something I’ve only felt once before.
Oh fuck an ostrich. My little plan of delivering death and mayhem flees my head with a whimper.
“Welcome,” a soft voice says. “I’m delighted to meet my niece at last.”
Chapter 17
A large lacquered desk, mahogany wood so dark it looks almost black, dominates the room. A heavy, high-backed chair sits behind the desk, turned around so I can only see the arched back of it.
“Take off your shirt.”
Diamond is not at the desk. She lies on a purple yoga mat on the floor, one leg cranked behind her so severely that even the best yogi would wince.
“Huh?” I stammer. The handles of the door press into my back.
Diamond turns her head to look at me. “Take off your shirt.”
She is Grand’s sister. Her lineage is stamped clearly on her face, from the rounded forehead and weak chin to those china blue eyes that are twins to his. And the power. That is the same too. It ripples from her person, almost physical in its intensity. She is what the angels call “Exalted,” one of the remaining few who was changed using the original formula.
The game is up, assuming I even had any game to begin with. I know the reason behind Diamond’s request, just like I know how easily she could hurt me if I disobey. I grasp the hem of my shirt, tug it up and over my head, and then stand, clutching it in front of me.
The Exalted are far more powerful than the lower form of angels who are changed with bone marrow injections.
“Turn around,” Diamond commands in a soft, fluty voice that belies her strength.
I turn and can almost feel her gaze pinpoint the small, tea-colored birthmark that kisses my left shoulder. This is what Tarren revealed under torture when he admitted my existence to Grand. This is how Grand knew I was his daughter, how Diamond knows me now as her niece.
“I find that yoga aids me in relaxation,” Diamond says. I make to put my shirt back on, but pause and look to Diamond for her reaction. When she doesn’t seem to notice I slide the fabric back over my body, though I hardly feel any less naked.
I must stay calm. Must, must, must stay calm, no matter what. Or she’ll see your lies in your aura.
Diamond shifts her position, folding forward into a more conventional pose. She looks up and lays her luminous blue eyes on me. “He was searching for you for so long. It became an obsession.”
Diamond is not beautiful, not ugly or plain either. Distinguished. Powerful, I think again. Regular angels, those changed through bone marrow injections, only each develop one ability; the Exalted have many. Grand could move things with his mind, and he could fly, I think. He stole me away in the night. The Exalted are also faster, stronger, more agile, more everything than normal angels.
“Especially after he lost the hand. That’s when the final threads began to snap,” Diamond says. “The last of his followers deserted him.” Diamond puts her palms and feet onto the floor and pushes up into an inverted V.
I wonder if she’s a zealot, believing like Grand that angels are the next expression of human evolution and deserve to take the world by force.
Diamond gazes at me through the curtain of her pale hair. “There was a rumor that he found you again. That he’d gone after you somewhere in Texas.”
The ground feels treacherous beneath my feet, made up of eggshells, or maybe hot coals is the better metaphor. How much does she know? Is she baiting me to see if I tell the truth? Has she already spoken to the angel with the enigmatic smile who watched me burn down the warehouse with Grand’s body inside it?
Gem, I think to myself. His name was Gem, and he had blond hair and blue eyes just like Grand. Just like Diamond.
“He did find me,” I say, managing to keep my voice steady.
“Maya,” Diamond’s eyes never leave my face, “is my brother dead?” She asks the question lightly, betraying no emotion. I’m not sure whether she is nervous or hopeful about her brother’s fate.
“Yes,” I tell her, “Grand is dead.”
A low growl of thunder sounds in the distance.
“I see,” Diamond says. I watch her back arch, vertebrae by vertebrae. Small breasts push out from her orange yoga top. Her arms are all wiry muscle. “And yet here you are.”
The unspoken question hangs around my neck like an anvil. I take a long breath, pulling the remaining strands of my courage tight around me like a safety blanket. My mind, still juiced with energy, quickly churns out a half truth. I don’t even stammer.
“The Vigils, when they first took me, they experimented on me, starved me to keep me under control. I was weak, confused. There was nowhere to escape, no one I could go to for help without the risk of killing them, so,” I shrug, “I stayed. I suffered. I assumed they’d get around to killing me eventually.”
“Go on,” she says in a languid voice.
“Grand came, got me out. He explained about his…his dream, but there wasn’t much time. The Vigils pursued us. They killed Grand.”
“How?” Diamond lies on her back and pushes up into a bridge. One leg comes up, coral-painted toes pointed to the ceiling. “How could a few humans kill someone like my brother?”
_preview.jpg)
