ANGEL'S KISS (A Dark Angel's Novel) (12 page)

“Zeke, go on home now,” I said after a few moments, trying to put more force behind the words. I even tried to push him away. He just yawned and then sprawled out as if it was time for a nap. Some dog whisperer I was. Well, he didn’t look hurt too badly. If he was still around in the morning, I’d try to find his owner.

I went inside and re-locked the door behind me and then peeked through the blinds. As I watched, Zeke scrambled to his feet, startling me into jumping away from the door. I was glad I hadn’t turned the porch lights off yet—it would have been scarier to have seen only his eyes in the pitch blackness.

I held my breath. After a few moments, he stretched and then set off down the steps, moving with incredible grace for such a massively huge dog. Massive …mastiff…Zeke had to be a mastiff! That’s what he was. I’d had no idea that they got so big. You can’t appreciate the size until you stand next to one.

I was glad he left before Alan got home. Alan doesn’t have the same rapport with animals that I do. Crap! I couldn’t even warn Alan, since I have his cell phone.

Circus Act

As the adrenaline receded, the cold set into my bones. I shivered and dripped as I squished through the house and up the steps to my bathroom.

I turned on the shower to let the water get hot. When I glanced in the bathroom mirror, I looked gaunt and tired. Maybe the rain wasn’t the only thing making me shiver. My normal, uneventful life had taken a serious turn for the weird, and my face showed every bit of my anxiety. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I looked like I’d been in a cat fight. My arms and hands were scratched from my struggles with the rose bush, and the pink splotchy birthmark on my forehead was darker than I’d ever seen it. As I ran my fingers over it, I winced. Not only were the small patches tender to the touch, they were slightly raised. Was I allergic to something? Maybe a new hair product?

Agh! The back of my hand was stained and crusty with blood. I stopped worrying about my head and rotated my hand. Whew! I hadn’t been bitten or cut; the blood wasn’t mine. Thankfully, I wouldn’t need a rabies shot.

I leaned my head against the mirror in relief. The dog must have transferred blood from his scratched face and neck to my hand when he rubbed against me.

Damn, that dog had been huge. He’d had to bend down to rub his head on my hand.

I pushed away from the mirror to wash my hands and splash some lukewarm water on my face. By then the steam from the shower had fogged up the mirror and I was released from my pale reflection. As I undressed, I realized that the day hadn’t been a total loss. At least I could be happy about doing one good deed. I hoped that Zeke made his way home tonight as much for his sake as Alan’s. I didn’t want them meeting in the dark.

I stood in the shower and let the water beat the tension out of me. Wow, I’d needed this. The last few days had thrown me out of whack. I crave solitude more than most people, I guess—at least more than Alan does. I’ll admit it, part of me was relieved that he was out tonight. He always wanted to talk, talk, talk, talk. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was talk about my day. I was exhausted, and yet the idea of closing my eyes didn’t appeal to me, either.

The murders. What message was the killer or killers trying to send by mutilating the bodies that way? Then there was my attack to think about. Who was that hypnotic-voiced man, and how did he know me? Could I really have slammed a shoe into someone’s head, and if I did, how did he walk away? And finally, B. How did she know about my attack, and what was I going to do about her?

Okay! I’m done, no more thinking tonight! Busy. I need to be busy.

I got out of the shower, careful not to look in the mirror, and put some triple antibiotic on my scratches and cortisone on my forehead. Then I found Alan’s favorite old football jersey, put that on as a nightshirt, and went down to make a drink. Okay, alcohol wasn’t what I needed. I needed something more comforting.

I put milk on to simmer, got out the big bar of Mexican chocolate, and started shaving little pieces into it for cocoa. When the milk and chocolate had heated into a thick, decadent drink, I poured it into the oversized mug with my childhood handprint on the side that had been my father’s favorite. The first sip was pure bliss, but it was missing something.

Oh, what the hell. I added a little splash of chocolate vodka to help me sleep. Perfect. Leaning against the counter, I looked around the house. What to do now?

More comfort. Cradling my mug of hot cocoa, I entered the sunroom. I could think about weird stuff tomorrow. Tonight I wanted to put on some Patsy Cline and forget. I grabbed a stack of gossipy magazines and my iPod, scrolled down to Patsy and hit Play, then settled in for some easy reading.

The tension in my neck loosened as I snuggled into the big couch. I always feel comfy and connected to my mom and the women of my family in this room. Family photos surround me: mom smiling as she tended her seedlings, B trimming her bonsai trees. I even have a few old pictures of B’s mother, Evangeline. She’d been a beauty—wavy, long, black hair and the most loving, deep-brown eyes I’d ever seen.

Lazily, I flipped through the magazines, wondering why people, including me, are fascinated by actors and sports stars. But the nonsense helped me unwind. As the chocolate filled my stomach, a sense of peace and normalcy started to seep into my soul. My eyes burned with exhaustion and my eyelids grew heavy. I yawned and rested my head against the arm of the couch.

Jasmine. The sweet scent surrounds me, and the warmth of a summer night envelops my body. The feel of soft skin against my cheek comforts me. I know it’s a dream, but why fight something so comforting? I nuzzle my small face against my mother’s neck and a gentle sigh slips from my lips as I breathe in her sweet scent.

My parents snuggle together as I play with a puzzle on the floor. Their love seems so total; I want a love like that.

The images move faster now. Christmases spent on the beach or, if the weather was cold, in front of a fire in the big fire place. Spring days in the yard chasing butterflies, and hot summer nights listening to the frogs croak.

I can’t see anything clearly. It’s like having two movie screens side by side, playing in fast forward. Then nothing, but blinding white light, so bright that I shield my eyes. I peek through my fingers and see an image take shape.

My mother.

I’m a child again. She’s my world. She looks down at me with love. But now I see something else, something that a child wouldn’t recognize. The adult I am now also sees fear. I hear a voice, whispers of a conversation. I try to see who’s with us through my sleepy child’s eyes.

“Don’t do this Angelina.” It’s B. She’s angry, but her voice has an edge of fear.

“Mom, I can end it. She’ll—” my mother cradles me, “never have to be a part of this.” She whispers. She sounds anxious.

“This is reckless, Lina. I cannot protect you if you insist on doing this. This plan, it doesn’t make sense, child. That husband of yours doesn’t understand how to protect you, or he wouldn’t have come up with this idea.” B is anxious and distraught.

“Mom, I love you, and I don’t blame you anymore. But I’m not a child. I have a daughter of my own, and I need to keep her safe. Here.” She pulls me away from the warmth of her skin. “Take her. I have to do this.” I am handed to B as my little hands try to hold onto my mother. Strands of her long, light auburn hair twist in my tiny fingers. “Mom, I understand the pull they have on us, I understand what I am and what she is.”

“Clint has talked you into this, because he wants you to be normal. Angelina, we’re not normal, and we never will be. I’m sorry, baby.”

B rocks me and I lose my will to stay awake. Where my mother’s arms represented comfort and love, B embodies strength and safety. I peek one last time before sleep takes me and I see my mother’s fierce, frightened, determined face.

My vision shifts to red. A red sun is setting in a red sky. Darkness obscures my vision. My head itches again— it’s so annoying! I can’t concentrate. I don’t want to wake up, I can still smell her. I want to see my mother again. The scent of jasmine grows stronger, but this time it’s mixed with the smell of the earth, sandy soil, and clay. My hands and fingers ache.

“Grrrrr.” Something was growling.

My breath escaped me. I screamed when something hard hit me.

“Grrrrrrr.” That growl again. I raised my arms defensively, but whatever it was rammed into me again. I’m shoved against something hard and twisted.

“Lex! Oh, my god. Lexie, wake up!”

“Grrr.”

Alan’s voice pierced my drowsy thoughts. My eyes opened, but everything looked blurry. Alan yelled again. He was fighting with someone.

“Get away! Back! Back! Lexie, damn it, wake up!”

Rain was pelting down on me. I tried to shield my eyes; I had to find Alan.

I should be on the couch. Why was I out in the rain? I was wet, and I could feel the dirt beneath me. A huge grouping of jasmine was in bloom, and its scent mingled with the rain, making it even more potent.

But it was October; jasmine blooms in the spring. I shook myself to clear my mind. Was I still dreaming?

I couldn’t worry about unseasonable blooms. Alan was screaming, and I saw now that the growling creature was Zeke. For a moment I felt like I was part of a circus act, with Alan playing the part of the lion tamer with a garden chair and a stick, while Zeke growled and snarled.

“Stop. Stop! Stop!” I struggled to untangle myself from the jasmine. Alan and Zeke took time out from their dance to notice me, and Zeke stepped back from the confrontation. Alan looked as if he wanted to help me, but he couldn’t decide whether or not to drop the chair. Finally, he let go of the stick and reached out. He was careful to watch Zeke, and he kept the chair between us and the dog.

As I looked over at Zeke, he seemed to lower his head as if he were acknowledging me. It reminded me of how William had bowed to B today as we left Sera Haven. Zeke didn’t attack when Alan took my arm and backed us toward the front of the house. When we got to the steps, Zeke barked menacingly, and then trotted off toward the woods.

Alan shuddered. “What the hell was that? I’m calling animal control first thing in the morning. Lexie, are you okay? Let’s get you cleaned up.” Shaking his head, he started for the door.

“I’m just wet, Alan, no big deal,” I said as I shivered. The cold night air whipped around me. “What time is it?”

His expression confused me—he looked sad. So I continued. “I’ll be fine once I dry off and put on some clean clothes. Stop looking at me like that.” As I said it, I looked down and I caught a glimpse of myself. Now that we were on the porch, the house lights made it possible to see.

I was a mess. I was covered in dirt and pine straw. Dirt and sand were caked in every crease of my hands. My nails were broken and black with dirt. I looked out over the yard. The jasmine where Alan had found me was beautiful. All the tiny flowers were open and glistening in the rain. Beneath the vine was a freshly dug hole. I looked at my hands again. How had I gotten here? I’d been dreaming of my mother and B.

Now I understood why Alan looked so sad, and why that sadness was mixed with pity. I’m sure my own face showed fear and shock.

“Alan, I have to see B.”

“It’s two in the morning, Lex. I came home to find you digging up the yard with that animal standing over you. When I tried to wake you, he attacked. It’s too late to go anywhere now. Let’s get cleaned up and then we’ll talk. Okay?”

I was shaking now, my teeth felt like they would shatter and my head throbbed where the rain had soaked the scratches on my forehead. “No, I’ve got to go now!” I turned to run back down the steps.

He caught my arm and started to pull me in for a hug, but the look on my face must have reminded him of what had happened only a few days ago when he’d tried to hold me. He stood back from me and just held my arms with his big hands open. His voice was sweet now.

“Lexie. Please, honey, get inside before that dog comes back.” Alan gently tried to maneuver me toward the door.

“Alan, I know this looks crazy. I can’t explain it to you. But I have to see B.” At least the shaking was subsiding, although my head still throbbed and I felt like I could throw up. That would teach me to put vodka in my hot chocolate.

“Lexie?”

The world was spinning out of control. I needed control. I plan, it’s what I do. This just wasn’t me. Some crazy lady digging up her yard, having visions or dreams or whatever they are—that wasn’t me. I...I...needed help.

NO, I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I closed my eyes and repeated that in my mind. It helped pull me back to the here and now. I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and opened my eyes. Alan looked tired, of course, but he also looked exasperated, as if he were sick of dealing with me. That hurt.

“Alan, don’t let me keep you from bed or whatever you’d rather be doing.” Anger flared in my words. Anger always helps me through any pain or weakness that I want to hide. His expression changed instantly.

“Honey, I’m here for you. Please let’s go in and get you cleaned up.” He held his hands up as if he were scared of my reactions if he touched me. His eyes showed concern again.