In Stone (18 page)

“I think I’m gonna puke.” Rachael groans as Jack leads her into the cave.

“I think you’re too dead to puke,” he replies with a laugh.

JACK AND RACHAEL SIT
on opposite sides of the table. The knife sits in the middle. They both watch it like a couple of vultures watching a dying buffalo. Hungry. It makes me nervous. My fingers drum against my kneecaps.

“Can you smell that? Burnt vinegar.” Rachael leans in and over the knife, her nose twitching. “Is it made from demon?” she asks. I sniff the air out of curiosity, but I can’t smell beyond cave rock and bird scat.

“Yes.”

“Yum,” Rachael replies wryly. “Who’s the donor?”

“No idea.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Nicholas found it. That’s all I know.”

The Victorian copper kettle starts whistling on the stove. Rachael gets up and heads over to it.

“I presume you’re here to get rid of it,” she says, dragging her feet as she heads over to the kettle.

“We wouldn’t have come, but there’s no other way.”

“What about your friend here -- what part is she playing in this idiotic fight for supremacy?” Rachael asks, handing me a mug of bright purple tea. The strong smell of blackberry shoots up my nose. I think of home. It’s been ages since I’ve had a cup of fruit tea thrust at me. Mom shoved a hundred of her special teabags in my weekender and ordered me to keep drinking it while I was away, you know, to warm my bones right up, but they’d been lost back at the airport with the rest of my things.

Rachael leans in and studies my face. “No black in your eyes but no silver either. Hmm.” A mischievous smile makes her own eyes sparkle. She turns and directs her attention to Jack. “You brought a human into this. Smart.”

“He didn’t really have a choice,” I defend. “The knife makes you guys go nutso when you touch it.”

“You’re not kidding,” Rachael admits, holding out her hand and studying it. She flexes her fingers as if relieving a cramp. “That thing had a hold on me. Good thing I let go.” Rachael lifts her legs up, dumps her feet down on the tabletop, and lies back in her chair. She starts prodding at the gauze band-aid on her forehead.

“You shouldn’t have got involved. It wasn’t safe,” Jack says, making his way over to her.

“Screw safety. He called me a demonic bitch and strung me up from my ceiling like a ham!”

“He was clearly out of his mind.”

“So what, I’m not allowed to kick his ass because he went loco?” Rachael stands up. Her chair flies out from underneath her. She slams her hands on the tabletop and glares at Jack like a sullen teen who’s just had her allowance stripped.

Rachael doesn’t look much older than me. Her skin is white. Not off–white, not peach, not pale pink; she’s actually the color of chalk. She wears tartan board shorts cut just past her knees and sweatbands on her wrists. If she were a student at Plumbridge high she’d probably sit with me and Leah in the cafeteria.

“Pride comes before a fall. Was it really worth risking your life over?” Jack slams a father-like finger on the tabletop as he talks.

“Er, hello, I’m demon. Pride and breathing are equally matched.” Rachael winces, and her curled fingers come up and start massaging her shoulder.

“You’re a half-breed. That means trying, at least, to be half human.”

“If you call me a half-breed again I’ll kick your ass,” she says as Jack takes hold of her arm -- the one with the shoulder that seems to be giving her some grief. He gives it a sharp yank. I stifle a gag as the bones crunch back into place.

“What does your Overseer think about all this?” Rachael asks, unflinching at the minor procedure Jack has just preformed. Jack braces as if he’s expecting a brick to drop on his head. His eyes are closed, tightly, and he inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. My ears prick up.

Overseer?

“What?” Rachael asks, noting Jack’s pained expression. “They don’t know, do they?” Jack ignores her and turns to look at me. She makes a high-pitched whistle.

“Do you remember when I said that nothing is guaranteed while the knife still exists?” he asks, so fast it takes me a second to separate all the words.

“What about it?”

“I just wanted to remind you of that.”

“You’re keeping something from me. Again. I don’t believe this.” It’s my turn to stand up, pissed. My chair doesn’t exactly fly back like Rachael’s did. It just sort of topples over into an exhausted heap on the floor. I snatch the knife off the table and tuck it back into my bag.

“I can explain,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot on the floor, just like Mom does when I’ve broken my curfew.

“I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but if your Overseers find out you’re here, doing this, without asking their permission, they’re going to lock you up and throw away the key. You know that right?”

“Can we talk about this later?” Jack says to Rachael as he snatches my hand. He leads me out of the kitchen and down another short tunnel until we come to a door. He pulls me through it.

“What’s an Overseer?” I snap when he shuts the door.

“They’re the guys in charge of the Gargoyle order. The ones that pull us from Purgatory.”

“Could they have dealt with all of this?”

“No. No! I swear to you.” He tips my chin to meet his eyes. “They would have gone the same way as Gray, the same way as Nicholas. You can’t bend the knife to your will. The knife bends you.”

“I thought we were a team,” I snap and push him in the chest. He has to take a step back to steady himself. I shove my hands in my pockets just in case I get the urge to push him again. I don’t want to accidentally push him through a wall.

“We are.” His eyes are wide, scanning mine furiously.

“Then why do you keep hiding things from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding this from you. I thought about telling them about the knife and concluded it was a bad idea. Their existence was irrelevant.”

“Not according to Rachael. She seems to think they’re going to lock you up for this.”

“They won’t find out. That’s not going to happen.”

“Jack,” I yell. “Stop being vague. How much trouble are you in if they find out what we’re doing?” He shrugs. His eyebrows do a quick up and down.

“I’m probably going back to Purgatory.”

“Even though you’re doing them a favor?”

“That’s not how they’ll see it. As far as they’ll be concerned, I’m destroying a weapon that has the power to subdue demons once and for all. Not only that, I’ve endangered a human. I think if they catch me it’s safe to say they’ll be pretty pissed off.”

I’m drowning in that ice water again. A cold coating covers my skin. I hug my torso tight and rub my arms to try and chase the chill away. It doesn’t work.

“Well that’s not going to happen. It’s not even worth worrying about,” I say matter-of-factly, just like Jack Parker. He stops pacing, a soft smile pulling up his lips. “You have to stop keeping things from me,” I say. His eyes narrow. He studies me for a second, then nods -- just once -- to himself, as if deciding something.

“You’re right,” he says, walking back over. His hands reach for my waist, and in the next breath, he presses his lips lightly against mine. He pulls away and looks into my eyes. It’s a kiss that lasts all of one second, but my body is on fire.

I snatch hold of his neck and pull him back to my lips. He moans into my mouth. My hands, searching for skin, slide up under his shirt. His body is warm and soft under my fingertips. I trace the trail of his spine. He grabs the back of my thighs. My feet leave the floor and my legs curl around his hips. He smiles against my lips as my back slams into a wall. Kissing Jack is euphoric. I can’t get enough of him. He’s like the thirst that follows a hangover. Aggressive isn’t usually my style, but my teeth tug on his bottom lip. His hands slip under my shirt and my heartbeat charges. But then his mouth stops moving against mine, and he pulls away. Breathing heavily -- not nearly as heavily as me -- he rests his forehead on mine.

“Beau, you’re really hot.”

“Erm...” Hot? I preferred perfect. Hot was the sort of word that fell out of Mark’s mouth after we’d made out.

“I mean it, Beau. You’re burning up,” he sets me back down on the floor and kills the romance completely by checking the temperature of my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Actually, now that he’s said it, I am feeling kind of rough. The room is spinning. Flames are licking at my neck. I want it to be a side effect of the kiss, but blood is pooling in the bridge of my nose and I can taste it running down the back of my throat. Another nosebleed.

“I just need some fresh air,” I reply already booking it out of the there. There’s no way I’m going to bleed on him. Not after that.

The fresh air breaks like a wave on my face. I plug my nostrils with my fingers to stop it from leaking and take a couple of composing breaths.

“You know how animals can smell their own kind?” Rachael asks. My stomach briefly jumps up into my throat. I spin to see her hop down off a rocky ledge and land on the ground beside me. I check my fingers for signs of blood. They’re clean, but the inside of my nose is crispy with it.

“You scared me.” I laugh off her surprise appearance, but my muscles tense. She has a smirk on her face that puts me on edge. Her chin is tipped toward her chest. The low brow casts a sinister shadow over her onyx eyes. I don’t trust her.

“They track each other and mark their territory with their natural fragrance. You know what I mean?”

“What does?”

“Animals. From fluffy bunnies to bloodthirsty lions, they’ve all got their own scent.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply with a dismissive shrug, taking a step back when she gets too close.

“Are you sure?” She smiles, leaning in and taking a quick sniff of the air around me.

“I’m going to head back inside.” I turn without waiting for her response, but she’s already at the mouth of the cave before I can take a step.

“What are you?” This question again. I’m going to get myself a nametag that says mere mortal Beau. And in brackets, back the hell off.

“I’m just Beau.” I try to make my way past Rachael, but she extends her arm and stops me.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“You want to keep the knife for yourself, don’t you?” she says, picking at her teeth with her pinky. I wonder what she just ate.

“What? No!”

“You sure?” she asks, pushing my chest like some pumped-up high school bully. I stumble backward.

“Dude, don’t push me,” I say, my fingers curling at my sides, my toes curling in my boots.

“Why? What are you going to do about it?” she asks, shoving her hands into my chest a second time. This time I stumble backward and fall on my butt.

“Ouch. Have you lost your fricking mind?” I spit.

“Ouch? Ouch? What is that? We don’t say ouch. We fight back. Fight me back,” she orders, beating her chest.

“No,” I snort repulsion as I stand up and readjust my jolted bones. A bruise is already blistering on my butt cheek. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Wait a second.” She grabs my chin and ogles my eyeballs like an optometrist. “Why aren’t you getting all demon feisty?”

“Let me think -- because I’m not a demon.” She throws my chin away angrily. Whiplash.

“Do you think I’m stupid? You smell just like that damn knife.”

“Stupid, no. Mistaken, definitely. Maybe what you’re smelling is transference.”

“What?”

“Trans--fer--ance. It’s like your animal spiel. If you run your hand over a dog’s coat you’re going to end up smelling like dog. I’ve been holding on to that knife for a while now. Maybe a little bit of it has rubbed off on me.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“What’s not to buy? How could I carry the knife all this way if I was anything like you? You had it in your hands for two seconds, and it almost fried your brain. I’ve had it with me for what might as well be forever, and yet I’m still walking, talking and functioning perfectly.”

She folds her arms, chews her lip, and taps her foot while mulling over what I’ve said. I try to act ignorant -- guiltless, but I’m starting to sweat. I don’t know what’s been going on with me over the last few days. I know that my body keeps behaving in ways that aren’t right; that aren’t normal. There’s a good chance the knife is affecting me, but I figure as long as I’m not all bloodthirsty or fantasizing about world domination everything will be fine. Right?

“You’re not going to get down there and kill Jack?”

I laugh. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. His kiss is still burning on my lips, slices of my skin still melting in the wake of his touch. All these things and more make this seem like such an absurd question. My brain doesn’t even entertain the idea that she might be serious -- oh boy, is she serious. Her eyes bug, and like a cow chewing on grass she rotates her jaw. She looks like she’s going to hit me.

“Answer the question.”