Extinguish (10 page)

"This is called a—"

"
Cleome serrulata
," she whispered, cutting him off. She could identify every plant in existence.

"I was going to say Spider Flower, but that works, too," he said. "They’re opportunistic plants, and that’s
exactly why they survive. They’ll grow anywhere—abandoned fields, vacant lots, cracks in concrete. Wherever the seeds fall, they’ll sprout roots."

"Amazing, isn’t it?" Serah asked.

"Yeah, it’s something, all right," he said. "Our Father offered more freedom to it than he did us. This thing does what it wants with no regard, grows where flowers aren’t supposed to grow, takes over fields and smothers everything else that lives there, killing it, and yet it’s hailed as one of His magnificent creations. A fucking
plant
is given more leniency than me."

"A plant doesn’t think. It doesn’t make conscious decisions."

"And what about mortals?" he asked. "His beloved humans, His favorite creation. He absolves them of everything as long as they ask. Why wasn’t I shown that same mercy? I wasn’t even given the chance to apologize."

Serah gaped at him. "Would you have apologized?"

"No. I did nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong?" she asked incredulously. "You tried to take over the world!"

He scoffed. "I merely asked questions. I had the audacity to doubt Him, to take a stand when he let mortals run amuck. Over half of the world doesn’t even believe in Him, doubts He even exists, and they’re easily forgiven. Even the angels who fell with me—around me—were offered a chance. But not me."

"Is that why you’re doing this?" she asked. "Is that why the war is still going on?"

As usual, Lucifer ignored that question, his attention returning to the flower in his hand. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, a shudder running the length of his body as he grimaced. "Are you aware Spider Flowers stink? One of the foulest odors, if you ask me, so strong I can taste the bitterness on my tongue, but it’s still not as repulsive as Michael’s scent on you right now."

Lucifer held his hand out, the tip of the stalk of flowers penetrating the translucent shield. Serah stepped forward, taking ahold of them, yanking the flowers back to her side without making contact with him. Once she had them, Lucifer turned away, vanishing soundlessly without uttering another word.

Hesitantly, Serah brought the flower to her nose and sniffed for the second time, wondering what it was he inhaled, wanting to know how he tasted the air.

"Beat you there!"

Samuel leaped from the ground, his wings fully expanding as he took off into the sky like a rocket. The darkness of night swallowed him up within a matter of seconds, sending a baffled Serah rushing after him. "Beat me
where
?"

She struggled to catch up with her brother as he soared through the air, never slowing down, refusing to take it easy on her. A quarter of a mile separated the two as they weaved in and out of the clouds, speeding past airplanes as if they merely hovered, closing the distance between them and the radiant stars. The orbs of magnificent light burned in the atmosphere, far past the ozone, their exploding gasses releasing strong energy—the same energy that flowed through Serah’s body. A small star burned inside of her, fu
eling her life, emanating Grace, like blood pumping through a fragile human heart.

The two raced from one side of the world to the other: past the protesters covering the streets of Beijing, along the soon-to-be demolished Berlin Wall, through London’s
Purley Station, still reeling from a deadly train crash. They flew across the Atlantic Ocean, Samuel plunging into the depths of the water as Serah stayed airborne, her fingertips skimming the surface of the ocean and causing waves to appear.

They crossed the border into North America, where Samuel abruptly stopped mid-air. Serah skidded to a stop as he dropped, hurling toward the ground like an atomic missile. He landed on his feet with a thud in the playground of an elementary school as Serah appeared by his side, shaking her head. "Where are we?"

"A little town called Chorizon," he replied.

"Okay," she hedged. "And
why
are we here?"

He waved his hands in front of him, gesturing toward a building across the road, a "Grand Opening" ba
nner still hanging from the roof.
Chorizon Community Center
. Cars swarmed the area around it, loud music thumping from inside. Beyond the noise, meshing with the vibrating bass, Serah could hear the frantic racing of over a hundred heartbeats.

Behind them, the air shifted as a current crackled, Hannah popping up. Serah barely had time to look at her friend when another noise sounded, louder, less restrained. Michael appeared, silencing both girls before they could start their chattering.

"Glad you could make it, man," Samuel said, greeting him.

"I appreciate the invitation," Michael replied. "Although, I’m not sure what would interest us here."

"Apparently that," Serah said, motioning across the street. "I don’t really know what
that
is yet, but I’m sure it’s something big if Samuel dragged us all here for it."

She glared at her brother. He'd been inviting Michael everywhere recently, and Serah still hadn't gotten used to his
imposing presence.

"It is big," Samuel confirmed. "From what I’ve heard, anyway. I’m still a bit rusty on human customs, though, so I may be wrong. As soon as I get a grasp on them, they change."

Serah’s brow furrowed. "What’s going on?"

A wide grin nearly split Samuel’s face in two. "Prom."

Hannah and Michael both stared blankly, neither knowing what Samuel meant, but that lone word told Serah all she needed to know.
Prom
. "Seriously?"

"What’s a prom?" Hannah asked. "I don’t get it."

"It’s a celebration," Serah explained. "Teenagers come together, dressed up, and dance the night away. It's kind of a human rite of passage."

Matching expressions glazed Hannah and Michael’s faces, lingering confusion with a dash of dismay.

"Yeah," Hannah said. "I’m out."

Hannah vanished as Serah and Samuel turned to Michael. Serah expected him to bow out too but he remained, his perplexed appearance not lifting as he nodded across the street. "Are we staying out here, or are we joining their festivities?"

Serah stammered as Michael stared directly at her, awaiting her answer to his question. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Samuel let out a hearty laugh, nudging her playfully as she finally gave a non-committal shrug.

"Come on," Samuel said. "It’s going to be totally bitchin’."

Serah burst into laughter as Michael’s expression briefly hardened with disapproval. Samuel clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. "Relax, it’s just something the kids say these days."

The three descended upon the prom. Serah wasted no time immersing herself in the sea of frilly neon dresses and outrageously teased hair, twirling across the dance floor to the trendy pop song, her wings folded away as she took on her human form. She purposely remained invisible, a ruffling breeze as she passed, moving through them and around them, blending in.

Samuel mingled through the crowd, also in undetectable human form, while Michael stood along the back, wings fully engaged like an Archangel bodyguard. The mighty warrior seemed ill at ease with the high school crowd, but he didn’t leave, instead choosing to watch, apprehension in his bright eyes as they remained affixed to the wildly dancing angel. Serah could detect his presence in the air, intense, overwhelming. How could the humans be near him, around him, brush against him, and not feel the powerful life force? It left her spellbound.

She was swept off her feet—literally—when Samuel popped up behind her, grabbing her around the stomach and swinging her around. She spun in a circle, twisting like a tornado, and laughed when she came to a stop face-to-face with her brother.

"Having fun?" he asked.

She nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. "What in the world gave you this idea?"

"You."

Her brow furrowed. "Me? How?"

"I guess all your talk these past few decades about these humans and helping them finally got to me," he replied. "I was in this town the other day, trailing a demon inside of a school teacher, when I overheard a boy named Nicholas say he wanted to take a girl named Samantha to the prom. Samantha liked Nicholas,
but they were both too shy to even say hello."

Serah raised her eyebrows. "So you introduced them?"

"You could say that," he said. "I manifested for a split second and physically shoved the two of them together in the hallway. She dropped her books, he picked them up, and voila . . . they’re dancing right behind you."

Serah turned around, so close she could practically touch the couple. They swayed to the music, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders as she gently fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes connected, something strong stirring in them, something pure and Heavenly.

Love
.

A smile tugged Serah’s lips. "You did good, brother."

"I’m not done yet," he said quietly. "You see that Archangel over there, attached to the wall? Go ask him to dance."

Serah turne
d back to her brother. "What? No way!"

"Why not?"

She lowered her voice to a quiet hiss. "He’s the prince, Samuel."

"He’s just an angel—an angel that has absolutely
no
interest in dances, or human customs, or blending in, or micromanaging, but I have it on good authority that there’s nowhere in the universe he’d rather be than this room."

"Why?"

"Because this is where you are, Ser."

She blinked rapidly, stunned by those
words. "But he’s Michael. He’s. . ."

"He’s smitten, is what he is," Samuel said. "Come on, sis. Look at him. He watches you the way Nicholas watched Samantha. Give him a chance. Don’t make me physically push you, too.
Because I will. And you know it."

"Fine." She flitted across the room. Michael stood up straighter as she approached, his shoulders squared, eyes never leaving her. "Do you, uh
. . . you wouldn’t want to dance with me, would you?"

A strong, emphatic "No" came from his lips before she could completely finish her question. She huffed, ruffled by the rejection, and started to walk away when he grabbed her hand. "I’d love to do anything else with you, Serah—absolutely
anything
—but I’m afraid dancing is out of my skill set."

A smile graced her lips. "We can do something else."

"Wonderful."

Michael returned her smile as Samuel laughed across the room.

"See?" he called. "What did I tell you? Totally bitchin’ night."

The old sidewalk weaved around the school playground, buckled where a tree's roots had pushed underneath it, creating a fractured hump. The pavement was cracked down the center, a group of dandelions jutting out of the jagged fault line.

Serah reached down and plucked one. "Do you consider a dandelion a flower or a weed?"