Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin (29 page)

Oh, God—Taylor.

A Banshee scream erupts from my chest. I think Luc rocks me—maybe—but I can't stop screaming. People are yelling, screaming—no…wait, that's still me. And then everything fades into oblivion.

I wake up in my bed, a warm morning breeze blowing the curtains back and the scent of cool winter sun all around me. As my eyes focus, I find Gabe sitting in my desk chair at the foot of the bed. He smiles and squeezes my foot through the covers. “Hey.”

And as everything comes flooding back, the crushing weight of what I did threatens to take me under again.

I close my eyes. “Taylor?” My voice comes out as a croak. And as I say it, cold dread blankets my heart.

“I'm so sorry, Frannie. I should have been there.” The pain in his voice…

What he doesn't say is that he wasn't there because of me. I can't stop the strangled whimper from rising in my throat just before the tears spill over. Then Gabe's holding me in his arms, calming me. There's nothing else to say, so I bury my face in Gabe's neck and cry.

By the time Mom comes in, the tears are slowing, but anger still burns like acid deep in my core, directed mostly at myself. Gabe rubs the tears off my cheek with his thumb and shifts back into the chair. Dad stands in the door as Mom slides onto the edge of the bed and grips my hand. “How are you, sweetie?”

What a stupid question. “Shitty.”

She wants to reprimand me for my language, I can see it, which really is why I said it—to piss her off. Because I
do
feel shitty and I want everyone else to too.

She pulls a deep breath. “Is there anything you need?”

I shrug deeper into the pillows, trying to vanish into them. “Taylor.”

“Oh, baby…”

I roll on my side, toward the wall.

“Frannie,” she says, then hesitates. “I'm so sorry.”

If one more person says that, I'm gonna start screaming again.

The bed quakes as she stands, and I hear the door click closed.

I barely feel Gabe slide onto the bed, but I know he's there, 'cause I start to feel the anger fade away. “I know this is rough, but taking it out on your mother isn't going to help.”

I don't want the anger to fade away. I need it to hate myself. “Just shut up! Get out!”

Instead he swings his legs onto the bed and leans against the headboard.

I stare at the wall, unable to block the images from the woods that play out in my head like a horrible movie. “Oh, God.” It's more of a sob than anything. “I killed her.”

He knows I'm right. I can feel it in the way he shifts behind me. “Frannie, none of this is your fault.”

My voice is as bitter as my heart. “I thought you couldn't lie.”

“So, you should believe me.”

He's really turning on the peace thing. I'm buried in summer snow. My breathing slows and I seem to soften from the inside out. But I can't shake the visions in my head. Taylor. Angelique. Luc…

I lift my head out of the pillow and look at him. “Where's Luc?”

“He thought it best if he…left.”

My heart collapses on itself. “What about Angelique?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“Lilith has her. She's gone.”

A slow groan rolls up from my core. One more life I've ruined. My feelings about her are a jumble. Hate. Guilt. Lust. “I wanted her—needed her. But I'm not…I don't…with girls.”

“Lilith is a succubus. Gender is irrelevant. She can manipulate your darkest thoughts and desires—the baser emotions. Make you see things, want things. She needs her fix and she'll do anything to get it.”

“Her fix?”

“She survives on lust. Without it, she'll die.”

I shut my eyes, pressing the lids tight against the images trying to form in my mind. I would have done anything on her whim, including kill Angelique. My mind briefly flits to the memory of Lili in Luc's bed, his stunned expression. “Luc didn't know what he was doing…,” I say to myself, really understanding it for the first time.

“No, I'm sure he didn't.”

My head sinks back into the pillow, too heavy to hold up any longer. My mind shuts down and I welcome the emptiness, like a vacuum. When I realize it's Gabe doing this to me, for a heartbeat I want to be angry, but then I just go with it, letting myself go numb. And I think of nothing.

Frannie

I spend the next five days numb. People come and go, I think. There are blurred images of Riley and Trevor. In them, Trevor looks almost as numb as I feel. A piece of me wants to reach out to him—that piece of me that remembers losing Matt.

But I don't.

Mom brings food, but I can't eat. The more she pushes it, the deeper into myself I withdraw. I hear mumbling in the hall—Mom? Gabe? Dad?—I'm not really sure, and I think Mom might be yelling, but I don't care enough to try to listen. There might be police…maybe.

The days go by in a blur of images, just out of focus, and at the end of them, I'm dressed in black, sitting in a church pew. There are people, some of them crying, and Luc. I feel him more than see him. Gabe is with me, always at my side. Which, I think, is the only reason I'm numb. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure the scream that's nestled in my throat would make its appearance.

Grandpa has my hand. I feel his rough, warm skin, and smell his sweet pipe smoke as I lean into his shoulder. The only person I need. The only one I can tolerate.

Other people keep coming up to us, and Grandpa somehow keeps them away. Which is good. Because if I open my mouth to talk, that scream…

Then the people are leaving us alone, and everything goes quiet. Father O'Donnell starts talking. I'm vaguely aware of Taylor's parents and Trevor walking up the aisle ahead of a wooden box.

A box.

Taylor.

It starts as a low moan in my chest. And then there's not anything even Gabe can do about the scream.

Luc

She doesn't say anything at all on the way home. She just slumps in the seat and stares blindly at the dashboard.

I sink into the backseat as Gabriel drives, wishing it were me in that coffin.
How could I have let this happen?

Every once in a while, a soft, agonized moan escapes Frannie's chest, crushing my heart. If I could take away her pain…I'd do anything.

Gabriel pulls his Charger into her driveway behind her family in the van. Frannie just sits for a long time, then sort of drifts out of the car and starts wandering across the yard. Her parents watch from the porch, and her father starts to follow, but Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder and nods at me. I follow her across the lawn and onto the sidewalk as she starts up the street in the direction of Taylor's house.

I keep pace beside her. “Frannie?”

She just shuffles up the sidewalk, oblivious of everything. I start to reach for her, but stop. I'm not sure I can touch her without…

I step in front of her and walk backward, crouching to her eye level.

“Frannie…can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“I know this is…” A hot, wet lump in my throat chokes off my words. What am I going to say?
Hard?
This is more than hard. This is impossible.

I realize I've stopped shuffling backward when I feel Frannie's fingers brush my cheek. I look up and she's staring into my eyes. Her fingertips are damp.

“You're crying,” she says.

That's impossible. “I can't. I'm a demon now—mostly.”

She rubs her thumb over her fingertips. “You are.” She brings her damp fingertips to her lips as tears start to course down her cheeks. She turns and sits on the curb, head in her hands. Her fingers are woven into her hair, veiling her face.

I sit next to her, a safe distance between us. “I'm so sorry, Frannie.” It sounds so inadequate.

“I couldn't save her. She's in…Hell, Luc.” Her voice catches on a sob. “And I couldn't get her back.”

“It's not your fault.”

She rips her head from her hands and glares at me, strands of hair stuck to her wet face. “Of course it is.” Her voice is low but feral, almost a growl.

But then her eyes widen. “You're a demon?”

I nod.

Her features twist into a grimace as she says, “Can you go get her? To Hell, I mean?”

At this minute, looking at the pain etched into Frannie's face, I'd be willing to try, even though there's no way in Hell I could possibly succeed—or survive.

“If that's what you want, Frannie, I'll try.”

Her eyes close in a slow blink, and when she opens them, hope shines briefly. But then they go dead again. “You won't be able to save her either, will you?”

I drop my gaze. It kills me to see her like this. “No.”

“And they'll kill you too.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

I pull myself up from the curb, because being this close is too hard, and pace out into the street. I lace my hands over my head and pull a deep breath, trying to think. When I turn back to the curb, Frannie is standing, tears heavy on her cheeks again. I pace back without really looking at her, and when I step up onto the sidewalk, she reaches for my arm.

“Luc, I'm so sorry. I know it wasn't your fault—with Lili.”

I stand stiff and stare straight ahead, hands balled at my sides to keep from pulling her to me. Because I can't do this, as much as I want to. I can't go back.

In all my existence, I've never known pain like that—the pain of having everything and then losing it. But it's no less than I deserve. Because she's wrong. It was my fault. Everything that's happened to Frannie since I set foot in Haden is my fault.

I'll destroy her if I stay.

I shrug away from her grasp. “Frannie—”

She sinks back to the curb. “It's too late, isn't it? I've ruined it.” She presses her face into her knees, lacing her fingers behind her head.

“I don't think…,” I start before my words are choked off by my heart, throbbing in the back of my throat. I pace the sidewalk until I can speak. “Frannie, I just can't do this again.”

She doesn't lift her head, but the sound that she makes—a muffled whimper—causes what blood I have left to run cold.

“This—” I gesture vaguely at the world even though she's not looking. “—is just a disaster, for all of us. You have to know it's best this way. I can't stay here.”

Finally, she pulls her face from her knees. But she doesn't look at me. “So, that's it? It's over?” She looks up at me then, her eyes dark, dead. “I guess I can try not to want you…if that's what you want.”

“It is.” It takes everything I have to say it, and every cell inside me screams in protest. I glance back toward Frannie's house to avoid looking at her and see Gabriel watching us from the end of her driveway. I bend down and kiss the top of her head, then nod to Gabriel before crossing the street and climbing into the Shelby.

Frannie

He's gone. I can feel it without having to look. My heart clenches into a hard ball as some major part of me—my soul?—curls up and dies, leaving me cold and empty.

Of course he doesn't love me anymore. How could he after everything I've put him through? He'd rather be a demon than be with me, and I don't blame him.

I curl my arms around my knees and pull them tight to my chest, straining to hold myself together.

“Come in the house, Frannie. Please.” Gabe's voice is soft and low as he crouches next to me.

I look up at him, lost. He holds out his hand and I take it. He draws me off the curb and back to the house, then takes me up the stairs and tucks me into bed.

“Get some rest. I'll be back a little later.”

Panic rips the breath from my lungs and I spring to a sit. “Please don't go.”

He glances toward the open door and then pulls my desk chair over and sits next to the bed. “All right,” he says, squeezing my hand.

I thrash for hours, scared to close my eyes, because every time I do, images of Taylor, Angelique, Luc, play in my head. Every so often, Mom or Dad walk by my open door. Finally, Dad turns off the light in the hall and the room plunges into darkness. When Gabe stands, I'm embarrassed by the squeaky little whimper that escapes my throat.

“I'm right here, Frannie. I'm not going anywhere.” He pulls the T-shirt I sleep in from under my pillow. “I just thought you'd be able to sleep better if you were comfortable. I'll be just outside the door.”

He steps into the hall, and my shaking intensifies to the point I can hardly undress myself. Finally, I get my dress off, the T-shirt on, and slide back under the covers.

“Okay,” I say, my voice little more than a croak.

Gabe steps back into the room and closes the door behind him. He curls into the bed behind me. “You're going to be okay, Frannie. I won't let anything happen to you.”

I shudder as I think about all the things that have already happened to me—and everyone I love—and I know he's lying, even though he doesn't.

I can't stop shaking. Even Gabe's presence doesn't completely stop it. I press my back closer into him. But despite his closeness and the calm that it brings, my heart still hammers in my chest. 'Cause I know if I close my eyes again…the nightmares—Taylor—Angelique.

“Please try to sleep, Frannie,” he whispers in my ear.

“I can't.” I shiver violently and he pulls me tighter to him.

I roll in his arms and burrow into him. His cool breath in my hair just takes the edge off the terror that's taken control of me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck and take in the scent of his winter sunshine, trying to forget everything but that. Even still, the panic is there, right on the edge of bursting through. He kisses the top of my head, and a shiver rips through me. I pull my face out of his neck and stare into his deep blue eyes, shining in the pale moonlight, and I try to lose myself.

The closer I get to him, the more peaceful I feel—I know that from experience. He's the only thing that can block out the pain.

“Frannie…,” he says as I trail my fingers across his lips. I feel him shudder.

When I bring his face to mine and my lips touch his, his peace washes over me, drowning me in soft numbness, instantly easing the tight ache in my chest. Suddenly, my empty heart feels full—'cause he loves me. I can feel that too, deep and unconditional.

This is where I want to be. I want to lose myself in his peace and love. I want to be so lost that no one can ever find me.

I just want to forget me.

His kiss becomes less tentative, his mouth exploring. His lips devour me, helping me disappear. The further I get into him, the less of me there is. I fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He tugs my T-shirt over my head and his hands and mouth continue their soft, cool exploration, every caress taking me further away from myself.

My heart is still pounding, but now it's not from panic. And my ragged breathing isn't from fear. With every step toward the inevitable, I'm one step further from the pain.

When he rolls on top of me, I slide his shirt off his shoulders and feel his skin on mine—not cool anymore, but hot. I kiss his shoulder and pull at his pants, wanting everything—all of him.

His lips are hot on my neck as he whispers, “Oh, God…Frannie.” And then his mouth finds mine again and I feel the slow burn under my skin, my heat matching his.

We move together on the bed and I'm almost gone—just one more step. I wrap my legs around him, giving him permission to take that last step and free me from my misery, telling him with my body that I want him to.

And I feel him respond, pressing harder into me, letting loose that last shred of reserve. I slide my hand around to the front of his pants and feel him shudder. He kisses me deeper and there's something desperate about it, like he's suffocating and I'm the air. He needs me as much as I need him. I can feel it. This is what we both need to save us. Each other.

I'm almost gone.

Just one more step.

As I work the button of his pants, his lips slide off mine, trailing a burning path down my chin, my neck, my shoulder, and back up to my ear. His breathing is as ragged as mine as he whispers, “Please, Frannie. Please stop.”

A wave of guilt crashes over me as I realize what I'm doing to him.

He groans as I push him off and rolls to lie on the bed next to me. After a few deep breaths, he opens his eyes. He slides off the bed and stands there, silhouetted against the shifting shadows in the moonlight at my window.

I sink deeper into the pillows and try to disappear.

“I…” He doesn't finish. Instead, he grabs his shirt, spins, and walks out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Then nothing.

It's quiet, like, forever, and I lie here trying to decide what to do. When it becomes clear that Gabe isn't coming back, I close my eyes and pray sincerely to God to just kill me now.

I sit up when the door cracks open again and pull the sheets around me, suddenly embarrassed, as Gabe steps through.

He turns his back to me. “I think I can control myself now, but it'd make it easer if you had some clothes on.”

I roll and grab my T-shirt from the floor. “You don't have to stay,” I say as I slide it on, trying to keep my voice even. Truth is, I'm desperate for him to stay, but mortified too. “If I'm making it too hard for you…”

He turns and comes to the edge of the bed, where he sits. He holds my face in his hands and gazes at me. “I love you, Frannie. But we can't do…this.” He gestures to the twisted sheets. “I'd willingly give up my wings for you, but not like this.”

Despair squeezes the breath from my lungs. “I know.”

I touch his face again—I can't help it, he's so beautiful. “You said when Matt lost his wings, he had a choice of…” I lower my lashes and trail off as I realize how selfish the rest of that thought is.

But Gabe always knows what I'm thinking.

“I'm not like Matt. I couldn't stay with you.”

“Why not?”

“I'm a Dominion. One of the Second Sphere. I'm not an angel.”

My eyes snap back to his and I prop up onto my elbow. “I thought all of you were angels.”