Ignite (15 page)

“Pen?”

A coil wraps around my insides. “Yes?”

“Everyone is allowed a moment of weakness.”

“Not me.” I sit back on my heels. “I can’t allow myself to be seen as weak.”

“Why?”

I bite my lip, drawing a thin trickle of blood. “Vulnerability and uncertainty are dangerous and often exploited.”

He shifts forward towards me. “I hesitated.”

“For a split second,” I say harshly, “you hesitated. And that’s all it took.”

“And then I was killed.”

Because of me,
I add in my mind.

“I may not remember what I was thinking in that moment, but I don’t blame you, or your brother, for my death.”

I look at him guardedly. “Maybe you should.”

Chapter 13

His silence is unnerving. I want him to be angry, to say that it was my fault he died. Because it was. He looked at
me
.
I
caused him to hesitate. If I hadn’t screamed, wouldn’t he have killed Azael without a second thought? I’m sure he would have. But I screamed. If it weren’t for me, the war may have ended very differently.

I stand up restlessly, my hands balled into tight fists at my sides, and move to the front of the cave.

“Where are you going?” he asks, rising as if to follow me.

“I just need some air.” I look back at him. “Just—just give me a second, okay?”

Reluctantly, he sits back down, his hands resting on his slowly drying jeans.

I walk unsteadily through the narrow passage from the warm, glowing room to the opening of the cave. It’s much cooler out here, with a soft spray from the waterfall misting the floor and the walls, making the rocks slippery. I look over my shoulder and can just barely see Michael’s silhouette. He is leaning forward, his head resting low in his hands. He’s upset.

Of course he is
, I think. I just told him how he died. I admitted to him that I was the reason why he died. I may as well have driven the sword through his chest myself. Hearing about how he died, learning what part I played in his death, couldn’t be easy.

I sit down on the ledge of the opening and let my legs dangle over the sharp rocks. The sun is moving lazily across the sky as the early afternoon drags on. I straighten my leg, breaking the solid curtain of water with my foot, and try to contact Azael again.

Az. C’mon, are you there?

I wait anxiously, worried that I won’t be able to reach him. We’ve never tried to communicate from this far away. And if I can’t get through to him…

I may really be in this alone.

Right as the panic begins to set in, I hear a faint answer.

Pen?

Azael!
Relief floods through me.
I’m so glad to hear from you.

See, I knew you would start to realize my worth as soon as I was gone. I’m so under-appreciated. Nobody knows what they have until it’s gone!

I smile to myself.
I’m glad to see that you haven’t changed in the hours we’ve been separated. I would have thought some space may have matured you.

Me? Mature?
He scoffs.
Never. I’ll forever stay a Lost Boy.

Where are you, anyway?

Hicksville, America, it would seem. I don’t know really, I’ve been tailing Lilith across Texas. And let me tell you, the apocalypse could not come soon enough.

Are you wearing a cowboy hat? Because I’ve always seen you as more of a saloon girl.

I would make a superb harlot. But I think I may be too deep in the South to play up the old west theme.

No honky-tonk pianos for you to sit upon?

None! It’s a shame, really. It’s all guns, trucks, and beer down here.

Well, guns are sort of old west. Not so much with the trucks…

He laughs dryly.
So, did you find what
you
were looking for?

Yeah, I found him.

And how is dear Michael?
He drawls.

I tug at my necklace, sliding the stone up and down the chain, making it hum.
He’s… he’s alone. Ariel and Sablo are nowhere in sight.

Convenient. It’s too bad Gus was specific with his instructions. ‘Protect him.’ And how’s that going?

He’s safe. He wanted me to tell him about how he died.

There’s a pause.

Azael?

And did you tell him?

I did.

How’d he take it?

I glance towards the back of the cave.
As expected, I would say.

Ah, so he’s threatened to seek revenge on me, make you watch as he fillets me with his broadsword, and then kill you? The little beast.

No, I mean, he didn’t seem upset that we were involved. In fact, he said he didn’t blame us for what happened.

Awfully big of him. But I would like some credit!

I don’t know if I believe him.
I kick my feet out and into the waterfall again, letting the warm water bounce off my legs and splash me.

Then watch your back. Hey, listen, I’ve gotta go. It looks like I’m going to a rodeo tonight. Plenty of idiots to feed on there.

Have fun.

Oh yeah, I’m sure it will be more fun than a barrel of monkeys!

Actually, I heard that clowns hide in barrels at rodeos. To distract the bulls.

Well if that doesn’t sound like it crawled right out of a nightmare…

I laugh.
You’ll fit right in.

Fingers crossed! I’ll update you later if I have anything of importance. Like if I happen upon the world’s largest ball of yarn or some other stupid attraction. You’d be surprised how many there are out here. It’s nauseating. Good luck with Goldilocks.

Thanks and good luck—
I hear a click, like a phone hanging up, and realize he’s gone. I let the necklace fall back down, the cool chain resting on my collarbone. I take a steadying breath, kick my leg through the waterfall once more, and roll over to my knees.

When I look up, I see Michael standing a few feet away from me. I freeze.

“Eavesdropping?” I ask. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Who were you talking to?”

I stand and cross my arms defensively. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask again.

“Long enough. Was it Azael?”

I bite my lip, trying to come up with a convincing lie, but it would be pointless. He’s heard Azael’s voice before. “Yes, it was Az.”

“Is he coming to get you?” He steps forward into the small patch of sunlight that filters in past the water. His bare chest is bathed in the orange light of mid-afternoon. “Are you, I mean, are you going with him, wherever he’s going?”

So he didn’t hear everything. He doesn’t know I’m staying. My shoulders relax slightly. “No, I’m staying. Or going. I don’t really know, but I’m on my own for now.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

He smiles. “I believe I’ve heard that about you.”

“You make me uncomfortable,” I blurt out without thinking.

“That’s awfully blunt of you,” he says, raising a surprised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be the one who makes me uncomfortable? After all, you believe yourself to be the catalyst to my death. If that were true, wouldn’t you be a danger to me in this second life?”

“Not the catalyst,” I correct. “The catalyst was the start of the war. What I did simply guaranteed your death. And maybe I
should
make you uncomfortable.”

He comes even closer, reaching out his hand. I think he’s going to touch my cheek, but instead he reaches over my shoulder and runs his hand through the stream of water. “Do you know why I hesitated?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. But I’ll find out.” He removes his hand, smirks at me, and then dives through the waterfall into the pond below.

I lean over the edge of the rocks and call out, “What is that supposed to mean?”

His musical laughter floats up over the soft roar of the churning water.

I back up, run a few steps, and launch myself gracefully off of my perch, breaking through the waterfall with a twist. I hit the warm water of the pond with a splash, flipping twice under the water. I stay below the surface of the water longer than any human could, letting myself drift to the dark bottom. I begin to drift back up to the surface but I grab onto the tangles of weeds, holding myself on the rocky bottom of the pond. I look up to the surface.

The water sends ripples across the sky as Michael’s legs tread in the water. I can see him turning around, looking for me to resurface, but I keep ahold of the weeds. He sticks his head under the surface, squinting through the water. When he sees me, he submerges himself completely, blowing air from his mouth and sending a stream of bubbles floating above him. He swims to the floor of the pond and stands in another tangle of weeds. The tip of his sword clanks lightly on the small, round stones.

I stay seated on the ground, wrapping the weeds around my arm securely. He motions to them. He mouths, “Are you stuck?” and I shake my head no. He tilts his head, puzzled. I make no move to explain. I just want to stay under the water, submerged in a muffled world where I am not expected to talk to anyone. Especially him.

Michael’s cheeks expand animatedly, like he’s imitating a puffer fish. I think he is joking, trying to make me laugh, so at first I ignore him. His eyes widen and the veins in his head, neck, and across his chest begin to bulge. He thrashes his arms, trying to swim back to the surface, but his foot is caught in one of the thick knots of weeds. He bends down and pulls at his leg, trying to free himself.

The harder he pulls, the tighter the weeds twist around his legs. With one last exaggerated yank, he seems to run out of energy. His eyes start to roll backwards in his head, and I realize he isn’t joking. He shouldn’t have to breathe!

With my free hand, I grab my dagger and cut through the weeds I’ve wrapped around my arms. I swim over to Michael, pushing through the thick tangles of slippery weeds with my thin fingers, and saw at the green plants that anchor him to the floor of the pond. Sharp barbs on darker black weeds rip into my knuckles as I drag the blade back and forth, trying to cut through the stringy roots as fast as I can. I look up at his face and can only see the whites of his eyes.

Shit.

When I cut the last of the weeds, he begins to drift back to the surface, but he isn’t swimming. His limbs float lifelessly around him. I push myself off the floor of the pond and grab onto his waist, towing him behind me back to the surface.

I hit the surface of the water with my arms wrapped around an unconscious Michael. We bob in the water and I shake him, trying desperately to wake him. His lips are no longer a light peach; they’ve turned a cold blue. Even his skin has lost its glow, his cheeks their rosiness. He looks gray. He looks like Hell. It’s not right to see him drained of his light.

I pull him next to me as I swim over to the shore, hardly noticing his weight. When I hit the shallows, I stand up and tug him out of the water and onto his back. I bend down and rest my ear to his chest. After a pause that seems to drag on painfully long, I hear his heart beating feebly.

Not dead.
I tell myself.
He’s not dead.

I clasp my hands together and press down on his chest with the heel of my hand.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He doesn’t move.

I do it again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Still nothing.

I hover closely over his face, waiting for his eyes to open.

“Come on, you stupid angel.”

One. Two. Three.

“This cannot be how you die!”

Four. Five.

“Don’t do this—” I curse under my breath. “I won’t be the reason you die again.”

He remains motionless.

“I’m supposed to keep you safe,” I say through gritted teeth.

I lean closer, plugging his nose with my fingers and pressing my mouth to his. I breathe into him, his lungs filling and chest rising with my breath. I sit back and look at his face.

When he doesn’t move, I don’t wait to start compressions again.

One. Two. Three—

And then he sits up, choking and sputtering on swallowed water. He turns away from me and throws up, gasping for air after all of the water is emptied from his lungs and stomach.

I sigh in relief, rolling off my toes to move back from him and sit by the edge of the woods. I give him space, but I watch him closely, making sure he’s really okay.

He coughs a few more times, drags his hand across his mouth, and then turns to look at me. The color is gradually returning to his face, and I let out a small breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Did you just save my life?” he asks incredulously.

“I think I almost killed you again,” I say, curling my knees up to my chest.