Milayna's Angel (21 page)

Chay. Muriel. Laughing.

I let go of his hand and rubbed mine against
my jeans to dry the sweat before Chay noticed. He laid his hand on
my knee, and the second image flitted through my consciousness.

Chay. Muriel—a look of unease.

I angled my body toward him, curling my feet
under me on the seat. He raised his hand to the back of my neck,
running his fingers through my hair.

Knife protruding from my stomach. Bloody
hands. Chay’s hands.

I choked at the image. He looked at me, the
car swerving into the other lane. The drivers of the other cars
honked and a few fingers flew. Chay grabbed the steering wheel with
both hands, jerking the car back into the lane.

“Whoa! My life just flashed before my eyes,”
he said, his voice shaking.

Yeah, you have no idea.

16

I was lying in bed. My eyes were heavy, and I
was just drifting to sleep when my phone chimed. I snatched it from
my bedside table and pushed the button to read the text.

Chay:
So? What did the doctor say?

Me:
Gave me the all clear. Everything has
healed, stitches are out, and I’m good to go.

Chay:
Good to hear.

Me:
How are you feeling?

Chay:
Better.

Me:
Gotta go. See you tomorrow?

Chay:
Yeah. Good night, Milayna. I love
you. Don’t forget that.

Me:
Good night. I love you, too.

I started to add for him not to forget it and
try to kill me, but I decided that would ruin the moment.

***

I’m at school, leaning against a blue locker
with chipping paint. I’m alone except for Muriel and Chay, who are
talking at the end of the hall. They’re standing in front of the
lighted trophy case. To the right is the gym. To the left, behind
Muriel, is a brick wall.

Chay says something to Muriel. She shakes her
head. He becomes more insistent. She puts her hands up, as if to
push him away.

Chay grabs her hands and jerks them down.
He’s yelling. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can tell by his
body language that he’s mad. Muriel has tears streaming down her
cheeks.

The demi-demons walk out of the shadows. They
stand around Chay.

I brace myself to run, to help Chay and
Muriel fight them, but something stops me. They aren’t fighting.
They’ve surrounded Chay, clapping him on the back, laughing and
talking. About what, I can’t hear.

Muriel cries. Her shoulders rock with the
force of her sobs. A demi-demon’s hand snakes out and slaps her
across the face before yelling something at her. I begin to run
toward her. She looks at me, her mouth forming a perfect circle
when she screams, “No.”

I skid to a stop, my sneakers squeaking
loudly against the gleaming, tiled floor. My feet slip out from
under me, and I place my hand on the floor to steady myself. I
stand and see the demi-demons advancing toward me. Chay in the
lead.

He’s saying something to me. The sneer on his
face, the look of complete loathing, scares me… and I turn to
run.

Jerking awake, I held back a scream. I rolled
up and sat on the side of the bed. Blowing a lock of sweaty hair
out of my face, I looked around the darkened room before slipping
off the bed.

In my bathroom, I turned on the tap and
grabbed the glass sitting next to the sink. Filling it, I guzzled
the cool water, and then filled it again and downed a second cup,
trying to wash away the remnants of my nightmare.

Walking back into my bedroom, I looked at the
clock next to the bed. The large, green, glowing numbers read four
o’clock. I had to be up in two hours.

Who am I kidding? I’ll never be able to go
back to sleep.

I stalked over and switched off my alarm
before slipping quietly into the hallway and making my way
downstairs. Flipping on the light in the kitchen, I grabbed a pint
of ice cream out of the freezer. I sat on the couch that overlooked
the street, scooping a large spoonful of cookies ‘n’ cream into my
mouth.

He was standing there. I knew he would
be.

I ate my ice cream and watched him. Every
once in a while, I’d see a fat hobgoblin dart past the window,
their red skin like a beacon against the white, snow-covered
ground. He didn’t move, however. He stood like a statue in the
shadows. He’d been there every night for the past week.

Jake.

I reached across the couch, picked up the
telephone, and dialed the police.

***

Tuesday was a much better day for Chay and
me. We fell into our old routine. He walked me to my classes—always
carrying my books—we ate lunch together, and we kissed as often as
we could. Yeah, that was the best part.

It was after gym. I’d gone out the back exit
to grab a water from the vending machine before meeting Chay out
front. I bought a bottle and downed half of it before turning and
buying two more, one for Chay and another for me.

“That’s an awful lot of water,” someone said
behind me.

“Well, I’m awfully thirsty,” I answered.

“I guess so.”

I turned and whatever I was about to say died
on my lips. Rod. I hadn’t seen him since the night of the
fight.

“Excuse me.” I tried to push past him.

He grabbed my arm. The water I held fell, the
plastic bottles bouncing against the tile floor before rolling
away. “Where are you going?”

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” I said, over-enunciating
each word. I tried to sound fierce, but my insides were jiggling
like a bowl of Jell-O.

“You know you’re playing with fire, right? He
isn’t as tolerant as Azazel. I’m surprised he hasn’t done anything
yet,” Rod said, reaching out and twirling a curl of my hair around
his finger. I slapped his hand away.

“Who?”

“Abaddon, of course.”

I hadn’t expected him to tell me, but at
least now we knew for sure who was behind the threats.

I stared at Rod. He had beady eyes that were
set just a little too far apart from his long, pointed nose. His
hair was a dirty blond and was too long in back, reminding me of a
mullet.

“Nothing to say? He knows you know about him.
What you don’t know is who he has working for him.”

“And who’s that?”

“Now what fun would it be if I told you? But,
I will give you a hint. It’s someone you trust. Someone you’ll
never see coming,” Spittle spewed from his mouth when he talked. A
slow, disgusting smile curved his too-thin lips.

“I don’t believe you.” I tried to jerk my arm
free. He dug his fingers harder into my flesh.

“You’re gonna die, you know? It’s a shame,
really.”

He bent his head forward and gave me a quick
peck of a kiss. His lips were mushy and soggy, and his breath
smelled like the chili the cafeteria served for lunch the day
before.

When he pulled his head back, I smacked him
hard against the face with my free hand.

The side of his face reddened from my slap.
“Hmm, I think I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer.”

“Let her go,” Xavier demanded behind me.

Rod dropped his hand. “Whatever, man. It’s
all good.” He bent down and picked up my water bottles from the
floor. It was all I could do to keep from kicking him in the face.
He handed me the bottles. “Tick-tock, Milayna.”

I slapped him again… just because I wanted to
and because the thought of his kiss made my skin crawl.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” I ground out
between clenched teeth.

He laughed. “I’ll see you tonight.” He turned
on his heel and walked toward the exit where he came face to face
with Chay. “Hey, man.” Rod slapped Chay on the back like they were
buddies.

Chay’s face was set in hard planes as he
watched Rod leave.

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump in,” I said to
Chay.

“You had it under control.” He looked up, saw
Xavier, and nodded, just a slight tip of his head in Xavier’s
direction.

A ghost of a smile touched Xavier’s lips
before he turned and walked away.

Chay walked to me. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah. Just yapped a little.”

He studied my face. I was afraid he was going
to challenge me. I was relieved when he bent and kissed me gently.
It was so much nicer than the grotesque kiss Rod had given me.

***

That night, I stared at them as they stared
at the house. Darkness engulfed me. I knew they couldn’t see me,
but it felt like their eyes were boring straight into my soul.

It wasn’t just Jake this time. He brought a
friend. I was sure it was Rod, although the streetlight cast his
face in eerie shadows so it was hard to tell.

I watched them for what seemed like hours,
but was probably just a few minutes before I heard a light rap on
the back door. I knew who it was before I stood to open it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“I came to see what they’re doing,” Chay
answered, nodding toward the street.

“So far they’re just staring, like they’ve
been every night this week.”

“They’ve been here every night? Why didn’t
you tell me?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Actually, they
haven’t been here. This is the first time the second guy has been
here. I think it’s Rod, but I can’t be sure. Jake’s been here every
night, though.”

“You should have told someone, Milayna.”
Stalking into the living room, he dropped down on the couch to wait
and watch.

“They’re leaving.” I watched them wander down
the street. “They must have seen you come over.”

“Maybe.” Chay sat on the couch a few minutes
longer. When he was relatively certain they weren’t coming back, he
stood and walked to the door. “Bye.” He slipped outside and jogged
across the yard to the fence separating our houses. Jumping
effortlessly over it, he made his way back home.

Not a kiss, not a hug, not even a decent
goodbye. What’s up with him?

I had another dream that night. In it, Muriel
and Chay were talking, just like in all of my visions. They stood
in my backyard. The hobgoblins ran between their legs,
laughing.

Muriel was upset about something Chay said.
She yelled at him. He smiled. She raised her hand and slapped him.
Still, he smiled. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear what he
said. Muriel’s hands moved animatedly as she yelled back, her face
red and her neck muscles straining.

Milayna.

I jumped up. It was just a whisper, just a
faint sound, but unmistakable. They were fighting about me.

Pushing my hair back, I covered my face with
both hands. I let out a breath. Slowly, I lay back in bed and
pulled the quilt over me. I was tired, so tired. I tried to go back
to sleep, but my mind churned with images of Chay and Muriel
fighting and the single whispered word I was able to hear.

***

“We need to talk,” Chay said the moment he
saw me in chem class. He didn’t say hello, nor did he kiss or even
touch me.

“Okay. What about?”

“Later. Go for a drive after school?”

Chay. Blood.

The images rang through my mind so fast I
almost missed them. “Sure.”

Knife. Muriel and Chay fighting. Demons.

I was having a variation of the same vision
every time I was near Chay. It worried me. I bit my lip, wondering
what, if anything, they were trying to tell me. I didn’t believe he
would hurt me. There was another reason for the images of knives
and Chay’s bloody hands. There had to be.

The school day dragged on and on. It was
torture. Chay barely spoke to me. He carried my books to each class
like he normally did, but he didn’t talk and he didn’t touch me. He
was robotic in his motions, unfeeling, uncaring, and distant.

Finally the last bell of the day rang. I met
Chay outside the gym door, and we walked to my locker to get my
things before going to his. He grabbed his coat and keys, slamming
his locker door shut.

“Let’s go.” He turned and walked away.

I hurried to catch up to him, jogging down
the hall to match his long strides. “What’s up, Chay? You’re
starting to make me nervous.” He didn’t answer.

When we got to his car, he opened the door
for me and I got in, scooting the mountain of burger wrappers and
fast food cups onto the floor.

He walked around the back of the car. I
watched him in the side mirror. His face was hard, determined, and
I felt the cold hand of dread squeeze my heart. Something was
wrong. Very wrong. I could feel it. I was afraid of what waited at
the end of the ride.

I looked down at my left hand, fingering the
simple gold band on my finger, tracing his name etched in the metal
next to mine.

We drove in silence to my house. I tried
several times to start a conversation. He’d either answer with one
word or ignore me altogether. I gave up and waited for him to
decide to talk. As soon as we parked in my driveway, he turned to
me, his expression unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” I reached for his hand. He
moved it out of reach. I fisted my hand and felt the cold sting of
his rejection flow through my veins straight to my heart and freeze
there.

“I need a break,” he said.

“From what?”

“You. This. Us. Whatever you want to call it.
I’m done.”

My heart stopped for a beat. I felt it
stutter painfully in my chest. My breathing became quick and
shallow, making me dizzy. He’d been moody, but this… this I didn’t
expect.

“I hope we can work past any awkwardness,” he
continued. “We’ll still have to work together, especially until
this Abaddon thing is taken care of.”

“Work together.” I nodded. It was the only
thing I could process. My brain refused to accept what he was
telling me. We were done? He was breaking up with me?