Ignite (13 page)

He’s silent for a moment before he speaks again, his voice low. “Were you there?”

“When you…?” I let the unspoken word hang in the dewy air between us.
Died
. He nods once, locking his eyes fiercely on mine. “I was.”

“Could you tell me what happened?”

I back away from him. “I really don’t think you want to hear.”

I step back again and my ankle twists, skidding on the slippery pine needles. Before I have a chance to catch myself, Michael has one warm arm wrapped around my back and the other cradling my head. His face hovers inches above mine, his eyes deep and pleading. He rights me and removes his hands, stepping back respectfully.

“Please,” he says, his voice small. “I need to know.”

“Fine.” I tense my jaw anxiously. “But can we find somewhere else to talk about this before I break my neck on these damn pine needles?”

“Sure.” His face brightens. “I’ve got the perfect spot. You don’t mind a bit of a hike, though, do you?”

“A hike? You know you have wings, right?”

He adjusts his shoulders, as if the weight of his hidden wings makes him uncomfortable. “I prefer to walk, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course you do. All right, lead the way.”

“It’ll be worth it, trust me,” he says, taking off into the woods.

I follow closely behind him. “We’ll see.”

Chapter 11

Michael holds back several branches for me as we go deeper into the forest, walking up a sloping hill. For the most part, we walk in silence. He keeps looking up through the trees and whistling back to the singing birds, answering their songs with one of his own. We jump across a yawning gully and he lands clumsily, his feet slipping on the loose, wet soil. I regard him mildly but don’t offer help.

When we make it to the top of the hill, there is a wide, fast-moving stream. A thick trunk of a fallen tree bridges the cold, spraying water.

“It would be much easier to fly,” I say, looking into the dark water. Large, sharp rocks poke through the rough surface and I make a face, imagining cracking my head on one of them.

“It’s not about what’s easy. It’s about having some fun.” He smiles, grabs onto one of the thick, twisted roots, and swings himself up onto the tree. Peering back at me, he holds out his hand. “Come on, you can trust me. I won’t let you fall.”

I ignore his hand and jump onto the tree next to him effortlessly. “Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

He drops his hand and smiles more broadly. I turn away from him and walk confidently across the soggy tree. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he is still following me and hasn’t been swept away in the water. He catches my eye and I immediately look away.

When we reach the other side of the log, I jump off, landing on the sludge of the bank. I pull my boots from the silt, wading forward slowly. I hear Michael land behind me with a splat. He starts laughing musically, and I think he’s laughing at the sucking sound my boots are making in the mud, but when I turn to face him, I see he is sprawled on his back in the silt. He sits up and shakes his head, his hair flinging drops of mud in a halo around him.

I laugh once. “It looks like you’re the one who needed the assistance.”

He pulls himself out of the muck, his jeans dripping with mud and covered in gritty sand. His sweater sticks to his chest, and he has a smear of grime on his cheek. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and wipe away the dirt, but I ball my hands into fists to keep them by my side.

“You’ve got a bit of mud—” I motion to his cheek. He reaches up with a filthy hand and tries to wipe it away but ends up spreading more of it across his face. “Yeah, that didn’t really help.”

“Give me a minute,” he says, walking to the bank of the stream.

He kneels down and leans forward, putting his cupped hands into the water. He brings up a handful of water and splashes it across his face. The mud runs down his neck and under the collar of his sweater as he continues to pour water over his face. He rubs his hands together under the water and washes the rest of the dirt off his arms. He shakes his hands dry and stands back up carefully. His clothes are still caked in mud that is now starting to dry stiffly in a lighter shade of brown, but his hair is mostly clean—except for the dirt that clings to the end of his curls.

I look him up and down, arching my eyebrow and pressing my lips together in a thin line.

He shrugs at me, clearly not bothered by the filth. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get for now.” He walks forward, moving around me carefully. I stay in my place, watching him walk on and away from the stream. “Are you coming?” he calls back.

“Yeah,” I say, unsticking my boots from the soft mud and stepping onto solid ground again. “Where exactly are we going?”

Without looking back at me, he answers, “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

Only the sludge squeaking in his shoes tempers the hushed woods as we fall into silence again. I pull my amulet out from under my maroon shirt and grip the stone tightly in my hand. I picture Azael.

Hey, Az, you there?

Michael looks over his shoulder at me, stumbling slightly on the uneven forest floor. “What was that?”

I tuck the pendant back under my collar. “Nothing.”

He looks at me quizzically but lets it drop.

We walk farther, winding along an overgrown game path until he stops so suddenly that I nearly run into his back.

“There,” he says, pointing in front of us.

I follow his gaze. In front of us, the dense trees open up to frame a small, reflective teal pond that feeds into a thin, trickling creek. A frothy white waterfall slips between a notch in a precarious overhang carved into a small mountain. The waterfall splashes over the rocks at the bottom and cascades into the pond.

The ground around the pond is covered in small, smooth pebbles, not like the muddy bank of the river we crossed. Moss hangs like soft, green drapes on several branches that reach out towards the water like thirsty fingers.

I’ve never seen something so peaceful. I take an unintentional step forward, trying to absorb the loveliness so I can remember it later.

“I found this place when I was exploring the woods.” Michael’s voice drifts above the rush of water. “It’s become one of my favorite places. When I’m here, I feel like I don’t have to do anything or be anyone. I can just…”

“Be yourself,” I finish for him.

I turn to him and see that he’s watching me, his arms crossed over his muddy chest. His eyebrows are drawn high above his bright eyes, surprised. I spin away from him and take another tentative step towards the pond, the heels of my boots clicking delicately on the smooth stones. I stoop down, skim my hand through the water, and am amazed by its warmth.

“It’s warm,” I say dumbly.

“It’s fed by an underground hot spring,” he explains.

Michael joins me by the pond, slips off his shoes, and pulls his sweater over his head. I look over at him furtively as he dips his sweater in the water, letting the dried mud wash off. His chest is broad and strung with tight muscles that stretch down his abdomen, coming to a sharp V at the top of his waistband. He removes his sweater from the pond and wrings out the water, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing.

“You’re staring,” he says as he stands up and lays his shirt flat on the stony bank. I look away quickly but can feel him smiling at me. “Can you swim?”

“Of course I can,” I answer sharply.

“Good. There’s a cavern behind the waterfall. It’s private, and there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

“Private?”

He nods and points up to the sky. “No one can hear inside. I’ve enchanted it.”

I rise and look towards the waterfall, trying to see what’s behind it. But if there is a cavern back there, it is completely hidden from where we stand. Now I understand why this is the one place he feels he can be himself. I glance at Michael, who is only dressed in his muddy jeans. His sword hangs casually off his belt, glinting forbiddingly in the filtered light.

He brings his arms in front of him and dives gracefully into the pond with a small splash and when he resurfaces he’s smiling. He waves to me. “Come on!”

I pause for only a moment before I zip my boots off, take my dagger and slide it through my belt. I place my boots next to Michael’s sweater and drop the backpack from my shoulder. I rest my hands on the edge of my shirt hesitantly before I pull it off and throw it towards my boots. Standing on the edge of the pond in my dark jeans and a thin black tank top, I let my toes skim the warm water.

I bend my legs and launch myself into the pond. The sound of rushing water suddenly replaces the chirping of the forest. I arc out of the water, throwing my heavy, wet hair behind me.

The pond is deeper than I thought it was, and I have to tread water to stay afloat. I spin around and see Michael watching me with a weird expression. I skim my hand across the surface of the pond and send a wave of water towards him.

“Now who’s staring?” I mock.

“Fair enough,” he laughs, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.

He submerges under the surface again and swims over to the waterfall, his arms pinwheeling easily through the water. When he gets to the bottom of the warm, churning water of the fall, he turns around and waits for me. He pushes the wet hair back from his forehead, uncovering his bright eyes. I swim over to him quickly, and when I reach him, I have to blink away the water that clings to my eyelashes. I feel them slide down my cheek like tears, and I wipe them away.

“I’ll give you a boost up,” he says “But be careful. The rocks are slippery.”

This time I don’t protest to his help. He places his hands delicately on my waist, his long fingers careful to avoid my dagger, and easily lifts me up, guiding me behind the waterfall so I can reach the edge of the cave. I grab on to the cool, damp rock and pull myself up, tucking my legs under myself so I can stand.

The cavern is a little taller than I am, and I reach up to run my fingers along the rough stone. There are dozens of small, glowing jars deeper into the cave, but it is otherwise empty. I turn back to the waterfall, which rushes down in a thick curtain, hiding me from the rest of the world.

I look down between the waterfall and the rocky surface of the small mountain the cavern is set in and see Michael squinting through the spray. Reaching down, I offer him my hand. He bobs up in the water and grips it tightly as I help lift him into the cave. He slides forward on his stomach, rolls onto his back, and sits up, leaving his feet dangling over the edge.

“Thanks,” he says, running a hand through his glistening hair.

I clear my throat. “No problem.”

I turn around again, away from Michael, and walk deeper into the cavern towards the lights. The thin opening of the cave ends in a medium-sized round room. A short ledge is carved into the rock around the perimeter of the room, forming a sort of slender bench.

Michael skirts past me, careful not to touch me, and walks into the room. He is too tall for the cave, so his shoulders are hunched slightly forward and his head is ducked. He sits on the edge of the bench and motions for me to join him.

I enter the room, scrutinizing the collection of glowing mason jars.

“A little trick I learned,” he explains.

“Is it fire?” I ask, leaning closer.

“It is,” he says, watching me carefully. I sit down on the ground in front of the jars and lean back on the bench. “Now will you tell me what happened?”

“For an angel,” I answer quietly, “you are rather morbid.”

He leans forward on his elbows and looks down at his hands that rest folded between his knees. “No one will tell me what happened. It was my death. Is it really too much to ask for an explanation?”

I remain quiet for a moment, pulling my necklace out to hold in my hand and slowly twining the chain around my fingers. “It’s not too much to ask,” I allow. “I would want to know if it were me. Although, if I were killed, I wouldn’t be able to ask any questions afterwards.”

Michael lowers his eyes to the golden glowing jars. “I know not everyone gets a second chance at life. That’s why I have to know what happened in my first—so I can live this one better.”

No one gets a second chance at life,
I think to myself.
No one but you.

“I need to know what happened,” he continues, raising his eyes to meet mine. “Please.”

The faint sound of the waterfall drifts back into the cave. I hold his stare, sitting in silence for a several of his loud heartbeats before I finally nod.

“I know you don’t remember me, but I clearly remember you,” I begin. “And I remember that day.”

He watches me attentively.

I close my eyes, evoking the memory. “Lucifer killed you,” I say, my voice tight.

“My brother,” he says quietly.

Slowly, I open my eyes and look at him across the glowing jars. The bright blue of his eyes is now dark and reflective, reminding me of the warm pond below the cave. I nod my head again.

“Yes, your brother.”

Chapter 12

“When God set about creating man, Lucifer was cast from Heaven.”