Darksoul (16 page)

No. The real question here was: why couldn’t I remember?

I could make this simple. Or I could make this hard. Ash was…I didn’t know what he was. But I couldn’t get the hoodie out of my thoughts, couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the boy who’d helped me weeks ago. And if he was…

Then it meant several things.

Ash could do stuff I couldn’t do. Say, for example, morph his arms into an array of tapered, icy shards. And mess with my memory. With my mind. I could figure out that much. The problem was—how could I bring it up? Without sounding like a mental case? I didn’t know how to go about it. How to ask him what was going on. Whether he’d been Hooded Sweater that day. And most importantly of all, why he hadn’t bothered to tell me.

Maybe
he wanted to keep it a secret. Which was stupid, because he couldn’t have worn that hoodie and thought I wouldn’t recognize him. Maybe he’d been counting on the fact that I wouldn’t notice anything when I had a big old monster sitting in front of me. It was a plausible thing to think. Or—
What if he
thought he’d been…glamouring himself? But because he’d had to focus in battle…he lost his glamour? Therefore accidentally showing himself to me?

Could that
be?

Oh, God. I needed to stop. Now.

During the next couple of days, my tongue lay heavy inside my mouth. I wanted to ask Ash. I wanted to punch Hunter. I was a walking bundle of feelings and I didn’t know what to do. Except—
“So,” Ash said on Tuesday, leaning against the locker next to mine, eternal Milky Way bar in hand. “When are you going out with Hunter? Next week? Tonight? Right now?”

“Never?” I said.

“You’re a tough one, Zel.”

“As most girls are.” I slammed my locker shut and hiked my bag on my shoulder. “Bye. Don’t follow me.”

He didn’t. I needed space. I needed to think. But the next day, he did the same thing.

“I’m thinking…” he said, trailing behind me on the lunch line. “How about a romantic night out at the lake? Or the prairie? Or some shit like that? I’ll provide food and cond—”

I turned and stuffed an apple into his mouth. “Choke,” I said sweetly.

Thursday. Same deal. He followed me across the courtyard, rambling about kissing techniques and lip-biting and fucking and
you’ll like kissing Hunter, Zel, I guarantee it
, and—
Unable to take it anymore, I turned on him and
demanded, “What the fuck is up with you?”

Today, too, he held a Milky Way, and he stopped with it halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“For the last two days you’ve been trying to shove Hunter down my throat. Does he know you’re doing this?”

“Of course not. Do you want me dead and butchered to pieces?”

“Then what the hell is your deal?”

He regarded me with cool hazel eyes. “Let’s just say I
reorganized my priorities. Hazel-plus-Hunter is at the top. Add heart emoji. And a little bit of this.” Trying not to smile, he did a subtle gesture with his tongue. A subtly obscene gesture. A subtly obscene gesture that made me want to throw a truck. At him. With thirty cows inside.

“I’m going to kill you
,” I ground out.

“Kill me after you get married to Hunter.”

My eyebrow twitched. It was possible that this was why I’d punched him. As if he saw the murderous intentions on my face, he reached out and patted my head, his eyes softening with amusement. “There, there.”

“Don’t touch me.”

The rest of the week went like this.
Date Hunter
, blah blah,
he’s ace,
blah blah,
imagine the hot babies you could make,
blah. By the time Saturday rolled around, I was fed up with his shit. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. The day I’d clipped him, he hadn’t done something heinous—he’d just pissed me off with his Hunter-talk. And that was better than every other alternative.

Mom went out with Allie
that night, and I was alone in the house. I wasn’t particularly thrilled about being by myself, but I managed to keep myself distracted with Io, cello music, and thoughts of Ash.

Everything was going fine.

Until I got attacked again.

Chapter
15

This time,
I was prepared.

The
demon stood in the hallway, an array of talons sticking out between its ivory eyes. But the actual creature was small, only half my height. It screeched something but stayed in place. A scream worked up my throat. I swallowed it down. Unlike the last one, it had no shape, more blob than man.

Carefully, I edged forward.
I was holding a knife—wouldn’t go anywhere without the thing—and I drew the tip of it across my palm. Blood welled against my skin. When I took another step toward it, it stumbled back and let out a shriek. I froze. Was that—was it trembling?

Was it…afraid of me?

I stared at it, stricken. Letting that knowledge sink in. It was afraid of me. I had power over it. I could kill it.

I
breathlessly flashed forward.

It
scrambled away and put its skeletal arms up as if to deflect me. But it was too late. I toppled into it. Then I lifted the bloodied knife, rose—
And
plunged the blade straight into its writhing chest.

The creature burst into a million dark tufts. They winked
in and out of sight before melting away.

For a
second, I stayed there, kneeling on the floor. My heart pounded. I couldn’t catch my breath well enough. Finally, I stood and looked at my bloodied palm. The wound was closing, my skin sewing back up as if someone were tying it together with invisible thread. I watched, terrified and secretly fascinated. I could get used to this.

And then I felt it.

A cold breath blew across the back of my neck, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. Cautiously, I turned around—and stopped right on my tracks.

It was bigger and more f
ormidable than any of the demons I’d ever faced—not that I’d faced that many. It curled along the wall and writhed against the ceiling, a trio of dark anaconda-like creatures woven together into a thick, slimy rope. It had no head; three terrifying mouths gaped open at one end of it, while the other end came to a shining, lethal point. Claws rippled along its body. It had no eyes.

I swallowed back a shriek and stumbled back, ripping the blade
across my palm. Bright, sticky warmth spread across my clenched fingers. The scent of my blood riled it up and, screeching, it dove toward me.

Silver light flash
ed between us. Wings; movement; a gentle shove back—
The a
ngel turned. A feather was plucked, caressed, turned into a deadly weapon. Looking as though he’d done it a thousand times before, he smoothly sliced through the beast, two cleanly-cut halves falling to the ground and flopping around like parched fish. Black muck burst from the massive wound. But it didn’t dissolve into a million dark pieces, like I’d seen the others do. It remained there. Angry and grotesque and shrill, its mouths stuck wide open.

I barely noticed as he
grabbed the knife from my numb fingers and flung it at the body. An admirable throw—swift and clean and precise. The monster burst apart, taking with it its unbearable stench and its blood. I stood there. Scarcely breathing. Feeling stupid for having believed that—yay—
I killed two of them by myself, so that means I’ll be able to kill all of them.

No. I didn’t know how big, how strong they would be. I didn’t know the half of it.

I needed to remedy that.

After swiping up
my blade from the ground, the angel turned and held it hilt-first toward me. I stared at it, and then at his shining face.

Before I knew what I was doing, I rushed forward and threw myself
at him, toppling us both to the floor. The knife clattered away. It landed by my door. Breathing hard, I got up on fours, my loose ponytail fluttering down my neck.

“I have a question,” I said,
huffing. “I need to clear this up. Now. Okay?” My fingers curled into his wings. “Are you Hunter or not?”

He stared at me for three eternities longer than necessary. Said nothing.

And then, minutely, imperceptibly, he tilted his head to the side. As if he were considering me. I waited, my chest heaving up and down. He’d better answer soon. I didn’t have much time. If we cleared this up, we could get to more important matters, like How to Kill Annoying Monsters 101.

Fi
nally, his blinding halo curled and rippled out of sight. Like the dampened fuse of a firework, the light scattered and melted away, leaving behind inked arms, a black shirt, white-blonde hair. Cool gray-hazel eyes stared at me from underneath a fringe of dark lashes. They were as unreadable as ever.

I was so relieved I could’ve kissed the idiot. Instead, I lean
ed back and let out a weak half-laugh. “Can we just talk about the fact that Asshole Incorporated is an angel? I mean, seriously, what the hell is heaven thinking?”

“I don’t come from heaven.”

I stopped. “What?”

“I come
from Sielae.”

“What?”

Hunter gazed up at me. Then, slowly, the side of his mouth lifted, and a dimple surfaced on his cheek. “You do realize you’re sitting on top of me. Right?”

“Eh? Oh.” I was about to get off but thought better of it.
“No. I don’t think so. Last time you flew away like a bitch, and like hell I’m going to let you do that again. You’re going to help me. Whether you like it or not.”

“And you say
this because I haven’t helped you before?”

Once again,
I got on fours over him and planted my hands beside his face. “First things first,” I said tightly. “What the hell do those—demons—what do they want from me? Why can my blood do what it does? Make them go poof and shit?”

“What do they
want from you,” he echoed. “Well, they want to kill you.”

I nearly grabbed him and shook him. “No shit! God, you’re as helpful as a—”

“They want to kill you,” he repeated, “precisely because of what your blood can do.”

Okay. Okay. “I…” I tried to get myself to
gether. “I want to get off you. Promise me you won’t fly away.”

“I don’t make promises.”

“Then I’ll sit on you again.”

“Fun.”

I didn’t sit on him. “Why does my blood do that? What’s wrong with me?”

His
voice seemed to soften. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“Okay, this is the third and last time
I’ll take bullshit from you. Nothing’s wrong with me?
Nothing’s wrong with me?
Did you not see two fucking monsters—demons—try to kill me? And then, as if that isn’t enough, I have some freaky piece-of-shit blood-magic that allows me to
kill them back
? Oh, oh, and let’s not forget—angels exist! They don’t come from heaven—they come from a place whose name I can’t pronounce! And you, an asshole, are a winged little shit who’s supposed to exist only in fairytales!”

“Most angels are assholes, yes.” He cocked his head to the side, his hair sweeping across his eyes. “And did you just call the Bible a fairytale?”

Shit. “No—I didn’t—don’t get offended—”

“I’m not. I don’t particularly care for the Bible. Or any other religious text.”

I wasn’t going to touch that one. “Fine. I just—I need your help. What the hell is wrong with my blood? Just answer me and I’ll get off you. Please.”

“In that case I won’t answer.”

“Okay! Okay. I’ll keep you under me. Is that what you want?”

“That’s a dangerous question.”

Urge to shove him off a cliff: rising
.

“Your blood,” he said
at last. “It’s just Nephilim blood. Nothing special.”

I
felt like my lungs had been punched out of me. “Nephilim…blood?”

“You’re half-angel.” I barely heard his next words. “You’re not human.”

No. This had to be a nightmare. Or better yet, a joke. “I’m going to give you,” I said, my voice trembling, “one more chance. What the hell did you just say?”

He said nothing.
Knowing Hunter, his silence could mean one thing.

“That’s impossible,” I said, trying to make sense of the situation. “My mom likes women.
She didn’t do it with an angel!”

“Who said she did?”

“She didn’t get raped by one, either!”

“Who said she did?”

“This is—you’re unbelievable! She didn’t adopt me, either!”

“No. She didn’t.”

I was running out of options. “Then how—”

He
sat up, and like a thrown leaf, I toppled back. With predatory grace, he got to his feet and arched his wings as if to signal this conversation was over. Not on my watch. I rose and launched myself at him again, throwing my arms around his torso. He made a soft, startled sound.

I dug my fingertips into the
spot where his wings went through his shirt. Feverishly, I said, “You wouldn’t fly away while I was hugging you, right? You can’t fly away. I’d scream. Wake up the whole neighborhood. That wouldn’t be good. Right?”

“
Mmm?” he murmured. He sounded a little out of it.

“You can’t leave. I need your help. I need to figure this out.” I tilted my face to look
up at him. “Please help me, Hunt. Please.”

He gazed down
at me. I caught the softest whiff of Milky Way, laced with the scent of cigarettes. An Ash-y scent. I wondered if they shared clothes. A brotherly gesture, if that was the case.

“Aren’t we friends?” I sa
id, clutching him tighter. “I thought we were friends.”

He gre
w still inside the circle of my arms, and I instantly felt bad. That had been a dirty move. Taking advantage of the fact that we were buddies. Guilt-tripping him into helping me. But wasn’t that what pals did? Help each other? I had every right to ask for his assistance.

Just…not like that.

Damn. Now I felt worse. A part of me wanted to apologize, but the other wanted to shove him against the wall and demand that he teach me how to use a feather-sword.

After
an eternity, he said quietly, “I see.”

I…what?

Hunter pulled away and dragged a hand across his mouth. “This is going to be harder than I thought,” he murmured to himself.

“What is?”

But he didn’t answer to that. “You want me to help you. What do you need me to do?”

Pursing my lips, I
reached into the collar of my shirt and unstrung the feather necklace. “Please turn this into a sword-thing,” I said, holding it out to him.

“I’m assuming you think you’d be able to use it.
” Was it me, or did he look amused? “For what, exactly?”

I stared at him like
he was stupid. “To kill the demons that are coming after me. Obviously.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,
oh.
” I jabbed the necklace at him, but he didn’t take it. “Would you turn it? I need a good weapon. I don’t know if you’ll always be there.”

“I’ll be there. If not me, then he will be.”

I stopped on my tracks. “You mean…” A swallow crackled down my throat. “You mean Ash.”

The corner of his mouth gave the faintest twitch
. “Yes.”

“And he is…he’s a…” Weakly, I held up my arms, as if that was all he needed to answer my question. “A what?
An ice-human hybrid?”

“
He’s half-demon.”

“Half—” I stared incredulously at him. “Half-demon? Doesn’t that mean he should be trying to rip my
head off? If he’s one of the bastards—”

“He would never hurt you.”

I was so done. “In any case,” I said, wanting to massage my temples. I’d deal with Ash later. “I don’t want to depend on you. On either of you.”

“Are we that untrustworthy?”

“No, it’s just—” Frustrated, I pushed my bangs back and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I just—I want to be able to fight them, too, Hunter.”

“I know you do.
But say I turn this feather.” Hunter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His ruffled wings flicked and stirred as if they couldn’t bear to stay still. “Would you be able to use such a weapon?”

“That’s where you come in.” I took a tentative step
toward him. “Would you…would you please teach me?”

He regar
ded me for another long moment.

I wasn’t above begging. “Please.”

“Hm.” When I held out the feather again, he took it and ran his palm down the supple length of it, turning it into a graceful sword-blade. “There are several problems with this idea.”

My heart fell. “What?”

“If I were to give this to you, how would you hide it? Carry it around? This isn’t a kitchen knife, Zel.”

The wrongness of the nickname
hit me at the same time it hit him. He froze. An imperceptible jolt. Then he relaxed, and his features morphed into their customary coolness again.