Revelation (2 page)

"No, it's fine. I'll meet you at the car when I'm done."

A cheerful bell jingles overhead, announcing my arrival, prattling voices fading as I step inside. An older woman with saggy cheeks, lips pulled to a frown, sneaks a sideways glance as her hair is rolled. Another, already rolled and waiting beneath the dryer, eyes me severely, assessing from behind a magazine.

My nose wrinkles, revolting against the acrid smell of at-home perm. And I think of my mom, sitting low on a stool in our kitchen of the month, pinching the ends of a bleach-stained towel, protecting her shoulders as I paper and coil. My throat shrinks. I scratch the base of my neck, pull my sweatshirt sleeves tighter, taking in the brown paneled walls. The olive-colored sinks and exposed plumbing. The shabby linoleum floor, cracked and curling at the edges.

"Welcome to Heavenly Touch," a woman says, scissors snipping the ends of a customer's thin waves. "What can I do you for?" She has bangs.
Big
bangs. Fuchsia lipstick. And for a moment it's like I've stepped into another world—another decade at the very least. Time standing frozen at 1980.

This doesn't look promising.

"I, um, need a haircut?"

Her smile widens, friendly. "We can do that. In fact, Madison is free all
mornin
'. Come on,
Maddy
!" she calls. "Got yourself a walk-in!"

A girl emerges from the back, duly unimpressed, lumbering slowly. She can't be a day older than me—barely out of high school, maybe younger. 

"You can have a seat in that last chair over there," she says, nodding her head as she swipes a towel from the rack against the wall.

My body sinks into vinyl, stuffing oozing from gashes at seams and punctures.
Maddy
wraps a cape around my body, runs a comb through my hair. Based on the frown reflected in the mirror, she's not pleased with whatever's going on back there.

A rush of heat floods my cheeks, blushing my skin. "It was an accident," I explain. "I was in a hurry."

She slants a look toward the mirror, flat brown eyes meeting mine. "You want me to re-color, too?"

A shoulder lifts, feigning indifference. "Yeah, sure. I mean, if you have time."

"Are you sold on the black?"

"Just keep it dark."

*          *          *

The keys rattle, crashing, sliding across kitchen counter as I pass, scrambling for the bathroom, a deep, angry purpose propelling me forward.

"It's not bad!" Carter yells, trailing, footsteps heavy, thudding against carpet.

I grab a dry towel from the bar beside the tub and twist the hot water nozzle, ignoring him.

"It's cute. And stylish. And it looks really good on you!"

The water isn't even heated before I'm plunging beneath it, icy blades pricking my scalp. I pull back, skin numb with shock, excess dripping from my forehead. I shut the water off and stagger to my feet, ripping open drawer after drawer, searching, until I uncover it: Carter's electric razor.

Perfect.

He doubles forward, lunging for it, grasping the implications. I react instinctively, blocking him, driving his arm away. At least I know I have
some
fight left in me.

"Come on, Genesis," he begs. "This is crazy! Don't do this."

"It's gone! The rest might as well come off, too!"

"It looks fine!"

"It's awful! I look hideous!"

"You never cared what anyone thought before," he reminds me.

My eyes sting with tears, drops of water from my hair trickling down my cheeks, gathering beneath my chin. "I don't care now."

"Then what's the big deal?"

I can't. I can't even look at myself.

During my momentary lapse into pity and self-loathing, he confiscates the razor, snatches it from my fingers, holds it high above us. "I know better than to tell you you're over-reacting," he begins. "But wait. Just . . . sleep on it. See how you feel in the morning. If you hate it, I'll take you to a real salon. We'll go out of town."

My jaw smarts, tightening. "Or you can give it back and I'll take care of it myself for free."

He roots around the drawers, keeping the razor out of reach. "Here," he says, producing a lean, white tube. "Try this before you go all
G. I. Jane
on me."

"What is it?"

"Something my mom picked up from her stylist."

I watch him through the mirror, dagger eyes, but I don't take it from him.

He heaves an exasperated sigh, tosses the razor into the hallway, away from me. "Jesus. Come here." He squeezes a dab of the lotion-like liquid into his palm, rubs it into my hair. "Yes, it's short. Yes, it's different. But once you learn how to work with it, it'll be fine. See?" He sweeps what's left of my bangs to the side, faces the mirror. "You look great."

I tilt my head, examining the scar from our accident, the shiny channel that still refuses to grow hair. 

"I look like a guy."

"You don't. You look fun. And sexy. Like a post-Harry Emma Watson."

I stare at my reflection, at this strange girl gazing back. Dark. Haunted. "I don't even look like me," I say, the barest of whispers.

"I know," he replies, tone, features, expression—everything about him—softening. "That was the point, remember? You'll get used to it. Give it time."

Time.
That's the freaking
problem
. The
time
. Always advancing. Leaping forward. Widening the distance between us. I want to stop it. To rewind time. I want to go back. To him. Them. Seth and his relentless protests, my safety his only concern, even after it cost him his place in Heaven. To training. Mara. How she pushed me to be better. And then better than that. And Joshua, appearing out of nowhere. And I'm scared. I'm scared I'm going to forget. That I'm going to forget Seth. What he did for me. I'm scared I won't have a chance to make it right. And, until Viola comes for me, I don't even know where to begin—if making things right is even possible.

I can't
do
this. I don't
want
this world without them.

"Please don't cry," Carter begs.

"I'm not crying," I mutter, swiping thumbs beneath my eyes, lungs shuddering as I inhale. "And I don't have
time
."

T
HREE

I grip the steely blade of a knife between my fingertips and throw, watching it spin, twirling, slicing air. It hits the target—a tree—with a swish, and I
suck
in a breath, pleased. The air is mossy, full of bark and dirt after morning rainfall. The advantages of hiding in the middle of nowhere? No one to watch me train. Plenty of time to practice. Not a single, solitary distraction. I reach for another knife. And another.

Clouds tumble in, choking the sky, a bite behind every gust of wind. I step into the forest, feet sinking under a carpet of dead leaves, branches snapping as I gather weapons. The sliding glass door to the mountain house opens.

"
Mara
?" 

Blades and handles clatter at my feet, a twisted mass of metal. I jump over them, sprinting across yard, scaling porch steps two at a time.

"I didn't know when you were. . . ." I hesitate, struggling to catch my breath, lungs shrinking and on fire.

"I only just returned," she explains. "I had responsibilities in the Middle East for a short time. Carter and I were catching up. You look beautiful," she says, running fingers through my hair.

An embarrassed heat warms my cheeks. "It's short. And dark."

"It's becoming."

Her blonde hair is pulled into that familiar tight braid, brows a perfect arch, brown eyes searing mine. And for a moment it's like she never left, easy to believe nothing has changed. That Seth, Joshua, the Guardians are still here, still watching over me, helping.

"Have you heard anything?" I ask. "Have you seen them? Seth? Viola?"

A deep exhale. She shakes her head, apologetic. "No. We haven't heard from him. No one has. Viola is hiding him well. We've no reason to believe he's anywhere but South Marshall, but it's not been confirmed."

"Shit," I mutter, shoulders sinking with disappointment. I don't know what I expected. What I was hoping for. That he was safe? That he'd somehow gotten away? "Have you seen her?" I ask.

"My sources have. She's in and out of the area. We have established she's behind much of the chaos there." Her forehead creases, eyebrows pulling together. "You're aware there's still a heavy military presence."

"I've been following the news reports online," Carter says, arms folding across his chest. "To make sure no one linked Genesis to the fire at the warehouse."

"I doubt they will. Law enforcement there is stretched extremely thin. They can hardly handle their current duties, even with the Guards."

"So, I'm not even a suspect?" I ask.

"No one appears to be searching for you," she assures me. "And our numbers are growing. Sympathizers to your plight. Guardians in every facet assisting however they can." Her eyes shine, excited, spirit lifting at the thought of an internal resistance, as fragile—as dangerous—as it might be.

"Have they heard anything? What Viola might be planning or when she'll need me?" 

"No. We've heard nothing of that nature. What we
have
learned is that she's unfamiliar to many outside your town. This leads me to believe she's a relatively new
Diabol
."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she confesses. "But even this isn't typical new demon behavior. She's drawing a frightening amount of attention to the area. It's unprecedented."

"What about the rest of the Guardians?" I ask. "Where are they?"

"Those in our network are sending reports as they can. Quietly, of course. After you left South Marshall, James was relocated further down the coast. The Council has yet to assign you a new Guardian," she tells Carter. "I believe they're waiting to determine your course of action. As long as you continue to assist Genesis, it's likely you'll remain unguarded."

Anger tightens my skin, muscles coiling. That means we're vulnerable. Both stripped of our protectors. Fair game for Viola or any other demon that comes along. "So you're unprotected now, too. Because of me," I tell him, stomach churning, writhing and uneasy. "You should've stayed behind."

"I told you," he says, tone hardening. "That wasn't an option."

I turn from him, his furious eyes, back to Mara. "What about Joshua?" I ask.

She frowns. "My belief is that the Council moved him, as well."

My spine stiffens. "What?
Why
?"

"I've been unable to establish a motive," she replies, stealing a quick glance at Carter. "They may have needed him elsewhere."

An empty silence as the news settles between us. Joshua, James, Seth, Carter. Gone. Relocated. Trapped. Unprotected. All because of me.