Personal Demons (31 page)

“Frannie’s soul can’t be tagged for Hell if it’s already tagged for Heaven. But Frannie can’t be tagged for Heaven unless she forgives herself for M—”

“Stop!” I scream. “Just stop! This isn’t what I want!”

“But it’s what you need,” Luc says, gazing deep into my eyes.

“Go to Hell!”

“I will, but I’m not taking you with me.”

I’m a huge ball of frustrated anger. I want to kill him for stabbing me in the back. “Get out!”

“Frannie?” In my rage, I’d forgotten Grandpa was here. “Talk to me.”

I look at him, and everything is lost in a flood of tears. I hug him and hold on for dear life. He sits on the loveseat, bringing me with him, and I lay my head on his shoulder and cry for what feels like forever. When I lift my head and look around, Luc is gone.

“What did he mean, Frannie? About forgiving yourself?”

The tears well up again, and my throat chokes off. I can’t say it, can I? Not to Grandpa. ’Cause if he hates me, it would kill me. But when I look in his eyes and see all his wisdom . . . “I killed Matt, Grandpa.”

He doesn’t say anything, but as the tears start to fall again, he pulls me to his chest in a bear hug and I feel safer than I have in ten years. I sink into him, exhausted. When I wake up, he’s still holding me. And then we talk . . . and I tell him everything.

He doesn’t say anything for a really long time, and I’m sure I’ve ruined everything. Now that he knows what a terrible person I am, things will never be the same. But then he looks me hard in the eye. “Sounds like you’ve been luggin’ this load of horse manure around for a long time.”

He hates me. I knew it. I feel my chest cave in, like my heart just collapsed.

“Listen, Frannie. I wasn’t there and I don’t know what happened, but I do know this heart,” he pats my back, “and it’s a good one. If what ya say is true, it was just a terrible accident.”

I shake my head hard, like maybe I can throw off the guilt. “But I was so mad. I . . . hated him.”

“I’m pretty sure ya couldn’t hate anything if ya tried, Frannie.
Ya don’t have it in ya. Sounds to me like what happened just happened. Nobody’s fault.”

But he’s wrong. It was my fault.

“Everybody’s got their own crap they carry around with them. I know that firsthand. After your grandma died . . .” He trails off, shaking his head. He squeezes my shoulders a little tighter. “It’s human nature to blame ourselves when bad stuff happens—to think about what we coulda done so things woulda turned out different.”

I see the guilt on his face and it kills me. “What happened to Grandma wasn’t your fault, Grandpa.” It was mine. I should have tried harder to make Mom come over.

“But that doesn’t mean it ain’t gonna feel that way.” He pulls his arm from around my shoulders and grasps my hand. “You and Matt were closer than most. I don’t know what happened in that tree, but no matter what it was,
you
weren’t gonna come out of it okay. But there comes a time when ya gotta see it for what it was: an accident.”

I feel the hard ball of cold terror I’ve carried in my chest for the last ten years soften a little around the edges. Part of what he’s saying is true. I didn’t
mean
to kill Matt. So maybe I’m not a monster.

But that doesn’t make it any less my fault.

I tuck into his side and sit there for hours more.

For three days I sat on a tree branch outside Frannie’s window before she would speak to me again. She had a rough time with finals, but it helps to have friends in high places. With some divine intervention she finished okay.

I wasn’t planning on going to graduation. I mean, how many high school diplomas does a guy really need? But then it occurred to me that I may need this one if I’m truly turning mortal.

I’m hiding in the shadows of the scoreboard waiting for Frannie when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn and find Gabriel, leaning on the goalpost, smirking at me, and it hits me how blind I am without my sixth sense, which is mostly gone.

He flicks the ridiculous maroon graduation gown fluttering around me. “Nice dress.”

“Go to Hell.”

“Not likely,” he says, shrugging away from the post.

I look over at the grandstand as Frannie shows up with her family.

“Why did you . . .” I glance back at Frannie.

“Back off?” he finishes for me. “Because she made her choice.”

“How do you know?”

He smirks at me. “You’re joking, right? Look at yourself.”

And it hits me. I’m on my way to becoming human—and
she
did that to me. That’s how much she wanted me. What’s left of my power surges, and I feel the crackle of hot electricity dance over my skin. “And I suppose you came out unscathed? Still have your wings?”

He smiles. “It was touch and go there for a while.”

“If she . . . if it had gone the other way, would you have given them up?”

His eyes flick to Frannie and back as his smile pulls to one side and his eyebrow quirks. “Would I have had a choice?”

What I see in his eyes—what he’s trying to hide behind that amused expression, maybe even from himself—is that he’d willingly give up his wings for her.

He steps behind the scoreboard. “Just because you’re no longer a threat to her soul, don’t think I won’t be watching. Give me an excuse, and I’ll smote you on the spot.” And then he disappears—gone, as if he was never there.

I watch from the football field as Frannie’s mom fusses with her hair and cap. Only Frannie could make these ridiculous caps and gowns look so hot. I’m imagining what she’s got on
underneath—and underneath that. Hopefully I’ll have a chance to find out later. I already know it’s not her red bra. Maybe something black . . . and lacy . . .

She comes out onto the field with Riley and Taylor as her family makes their way onto the bleachers, and I laugh out loud at the look on her dad’s face when she walks over and kisses me. And then I see Grandpa staring at me, his expression stern. But just as I’m about to look away, he smiles and nods in my direction.

Frannie looks up into the stands at her father. “We’re gonna have to do something about that.”

“I think it’s a lost cause,” I say, hoping I’m wrong. I pull her close and kiss her again.

“You guys make me sick. Get a room,” Taylor sneers.

Riley grabs Taylor’s hand and starts pulling her toward the gym. “They’re lining up. Let’s go.”

I loop my arm around Frannie, shooting a glance at her father, and we wind our way through the sea of maroon caps and gowns to the line forming behind the gym.

The music starts and all the good little lemmings walk in double file. They told us to stay two feet apart, but Frannie wraps her arm around me and pulls her body to mine as we start up the football field to our seats. I can’t wipe the grin off my face.

We sit, and I look around at all the sweaty bodies baking in the sun as Principal Grayson drones on about new beginnings and other such nonsense. About thirty minutes in, I realize why I’ve always avoided these graduation ceremonies like a plague of rats.

Just when I’m convinced that after seven millennia I’m going to die right here of boredom, they start calling names and our row stands. I walk across the platform, and Principal Grayson hands me my diploma with a grin and a sage nod. I wait at the bottom of the stairs for Frannie, and as she walks toward me, her gown blowing back in the breeze, outlining those curves, I can’t help but fantasize about later. She’s supposed to be staying at Taylor’s tonight. I wonder if she could be talked into a change of venue. She gets to the bottom of the stairs, and I lift her off the ground and kiss her.

As I lower her back to her feet she says, “Mmm, nice. That’s gonna score you some points with the parents.”

I look into the stands and see her parents standing there, slack-jawed, Dad with a camera perched, forgotten, in his hand. And Grandpa is laughing. “So what’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t include molesting me in front of them.”

Frannie’s family comes down to the field after the ceremony, her dad still glaring.

“So,” her mom says, “you’re going to the party with Taylor and Riley?” She’s trying to be cheerful, but her smile is as fake as cubic zirconia.

Frannie rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

Frannie’s grandpa meanders over and pats me on the back. “Luc will take good care of her. We have an agreement. Don’t we, son.”

I smile, relieved. “Yes, sir.”

“I think Frannie’s in good hands,” he says, winking at me.

Frannie’s mom’s fake smile can’t hold, and she glowers at Grandpa. “Dad, really. This isn’t your affair.”

“No, you’re right. It’s Frannie’s,” he says and winks at Frannie this time.

Frannie speaks up. “I told you. I’m going to the party with Taylor and Riley, Mom. You know our deal. And don’t forget, Riley and I are staying at Taylor’s tonight.”

She eyes me suspiciously, and I can see Frannie’s dad ready to protest, just as Taylor and Riley appear and grab Frannie.

“Hey Mrs. Cavanaugh,” Taylor says. “So, I’m kidnapping Frannie, ’kay?”

Frannie’s dad’s eyes soften a little, and her mom says, “All right. But I want you girls to stay together.” Her eyes flick to me and back to Frannie. “All night.”

Then Taylor looks at Frannie’s dad. Her whole face softens, and it almost looks like she’s going to cry. “Thanks, Mr. Cavanaugh. Dad’s pretty excited about starting his new job. He really appreciates your help finding it.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do. I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

“The counselor is really helping all of us,” she says. She hesitates, then steps forward and wraps Mr. Cavanaugh in a hug. Once his surprise clears, he lifts his hand and pats her back.

“I’m happy that I could help,” he says.

She pulls away and for the first time ever, I notice color in her cheeks. Then the Tayloresque gleam returns to her eye. She
hooks her arms around Frannie and Riley. “Let’s go, girls. We have some serious partying to do.”

Frannie hugs her family, and I hold out my hand to Frannie’s grandpa. He shakes it and then I shift it to Mr. Cavanaugh. He hesitates but then reaches for my hand. As he shakes it he gives it a very firm squeeze—a warning.

“Have a good evening,” I say to all of them with my most reassuring smile and a tip of my head. I turn to walk with Frannie, Taylor, and Riley to the parking lot.

And my heart stops.

Avaira.

She’s standing with her back to us, her long, straight, raven hair glistening in the bright June sun. I pull Frannie behind me and feel my diminishing power crackle over the surface of my balled right fist. Avaira turns slowly and I raise my fist, then I release the breath I’d been holding as my heart resumes a rhythm.

It’s not her.

I’m paranoid, seeing Belias and Avaira everywhere. Because I’m sure they’re still here—and desperate. They have to know that time is running out.

I wrap my arm around Frannie, who looks startled, and my heart rate settles back to normal as we make our way to Riley’s car. Frannie curls herself around me. She peers over her shoulder at her friends, who are busy pulling off each other’s caps and bobby pins, and whispers, “What was that all about?”

I just shake my head.

Her eyes narrow, but she lets it go as her friends approach. “So, I’ll see you there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. How long are you guys going to need?”

She, Riley, and Taylor share a shrug. “We’re just going to Taylor’s to change, and we’ll head right up to Gallaghers’. So, like, a half hour maybe?”

I kiss her again. “See you there,” I say, knowing—as usual—that I’m not going to let her out of my sight. I never do, but she doesn’t need to know that. No sense stressing her out more than she already is. I’ll do anything to help her feel like her life is normal—at times, anyway.

He thinks I don’t know he’s following me all the time. He knows I want my life, and he’s trying so hard to let me have it. I don’t want to burst his bubble, so I don’t say anything, but, really, I like knowing that he’s there. When I can’t sleep at night, I stare out my window through the trees at the glint of the moonlight off the hood of the Shelby, and wish I was out there with him.