Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) (9 page)

              A cool hand touches my arm, and I look beside me to see that Alyssa has appeared out of thin air. “There he goes,” she says with a sad smile. “The poor guy has no idea what he’s getting himself into.”

              I turn away from the backyard to face her. “What do you mean?”

              “I dated a faerie once. They don’t look at love the way we do, at least not when it comes to pairing up with a mortal. They’ll butter you up, and use you for a good time, but there’s no real connection there. And when they get bored, they vanish.”

              “Good to know.” I shrug, noting how my wing and my shoulder make the elliptical motion simultaneously. “He’s an idiot, but he’s free to do what he wants.”

              “Can you blame him? You weren’t exactly fair to him.”

              “Oh, what do you care? It’s not like you wanted us together.” Alyssa doesn’t respond, and when I turn to face her, I realize how harsh I must have sounded. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

              “No, it didn’t.” Alyssa clears her throat, and says, “And you’re right. I did kind of hope this day would come, but… It’s just a little bittersweet. Especially now that I sort of think of him as a friend.”

              “If this is what you were waiting for, then why did Lily even happen?”

              “Honestly? I only dated her to make you jealous. But I screwed up.”

              “How so?”

              “I actually fell for her.”

              I watch Alyssa carefully, unconsciously stepping towards her as she speaks. “What about now?,” I ask, stopping myself before I close what little distance is left between us. “How do you feel about her now?”

              Alyssa looks up at me, and not for the first time, I marvel at her walnut brown eyes, her pupils ringed by a halo of green. Her lips part, and she whispers, “A couple of nights before she screwed us all over, I realized that she was no you.”

              I step forward, and Alyssa watches me nervously, but doesn’t back away. She doesn’t even flinch when I place my hands on either side of her face. I lean in, and press my lips against hers, and that’s what it takes to get a reaction out of her. Alyssa’s hands wrap around my middle, and she pulls me closer, her lips drawing mine in, as if she’s trying to meld us into one. I grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it as our tongues collide, and I press her against the balcony’s railing, leaning us over the backyard as the sweet scent of her perfume floods my nostrils. This is nothing like the first time we kissed; that was just body parts touching. This feels
right
. The same way kissing Nick always has.

              Without warning, Alyssa breaks away from me, and pushes me away, breathing heavily. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, and says, “I can’t do this… not now.”

              “What, are you kidding me?” I run my fingers through my hair, and ask, “Why not?”

              “You’re still not over Nick, and you’re hurting because he’s off in the woods fucking someone that isn’t you.”

              I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Alyssa and I have been drawn to each other for nearly two
years
; how could she possibly be turning me down? She may be partially right, but she doesn’t realize that I’m trying to embrace the feelings for her that I’ve kept buried for so long. “Allie, this isn’t about Nick-“

              “It is.” Alyssa straightens her top, and looks me dead in the eye as she says, “I want you, and this, more than anything. But I am not a rebound girl, or a consolation prize. I respect myself too much. And I expect better out of you.”

I try to explain myself, and what I’m actually feeling, but Alyssa won’t hear any of it. She pushes past me, walks through the balcony door, and slams it shut behind her.

9

            
 
For what feels like a long time, I stand on the balcony alone, trying to process what just happened. Alyssa, the girl who’s been in love with me for the better part of two years, the
only
girl to have caught my interest thus far, turned me down. I can’t understand it. I’m not sure I want to. I wonder if kissing her might have been a mistake. But then I remember the warmth of her touch, and I suddenly can’t imagine a better idea.

              When I finally manage to shove the incident from my mind, I decide to head back downstairs. I need to distract myself, and quickly. The speakers in the living room blast a beat that matches my footsteps as I come down the stairs. A few of the people present when I spread my wings earlier cheer as I come into view, but I pay them no mind beyond giving them a small wave. I was hoping they’d have forgotten all about me by now.

              With a little searching, I find the snack table, and the row of red Solo cups arranged along the edge. There are only a few left; the other partygoers must have imbibed some in my absence. I pick up a swirling, golden-flecked cup of witch’s brew, and hold it tightly as I back out of the room. I nearly bump into Alyssa on my way out, and she glances down at the drink in my hand. A second later, she asks, “What are you doing with that?”

              I push past her, and call back, “I’m getting trashed, man. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

              Alyssa grabs me by the wrist to pull me back, but I wrench free of her grasp before she can. Instead, I turn back to face her, and raise the cup high as a toast to her before taking a long sip. Surprisingly, the potion doesn’t have an offensive taste; the flavor is reminiscent of Sierra Mist. It doesn’t even burn my throat like alcohol would. Instead, a soothing cool pumps through my veins, and I feel the stress of my daily life simply melt away. I down the rest of the drink, and the golden flecks once in my cup reappear on my skin, glinting in the light as I watch. I slam the empty cup down on a hallway table, and march past a dumbfounded Alyssa to grab another.

              By the time I’m done with my third cup, nearly every inch of my skin is shimmering. Am I really turning gold? Or are the potions effecting my psyche? I’ll have to ask someone, because I can’t be sure. I giggle a little as I watch the gold patterns shift with every movement I make. A round of cheers erupts from the other side of the room, and I grin enthusiastically, not knowing or caring whether they’re for me or another. Why not cheer? In this moment, everything is alright. Maybe a little more than alright. And lately, that’s all I can ask for.

              The rest of the party passes in an enjoyable blur. I don’t allow myself a single thought of Nick, or Alyssa, or even Lily. I just sway to the music, watch my shimmering skin, and enjoy the company of people I hardly know. They don’t silently judge me for what happened in New York City. They don’t question whether or not I’ve lost my mind. They don’t worry about me. They just know me as the angel girl. That one chick with the wings. Oddly enough, in the company of strangers, I find the peace of mind even my oldest friends can’t offer.

              Some of my new friends and I break away from the main party, and find our way onto the roof, laughing and talking about nothing as we stare up at the moon. One of them, the spellcaster with the color-changing hair, starts bragging about his numerous mystical feats. It’s amusing; he seems to think he’s one of the greatest spellcasters to ever live, in spite of the fact that he’s only a few years older than I am. He even goes as far as to say that he should have been a Conduit. That’s when I start paying close attention to what he’s saying; Conduit is the modern term for Nephilim, and he’s nowhere near deserving of the title.

              Someone else questions his skills, and the neon spellcaster says, “If you don’t believe me, just watch. I bet I can outmatch anyone at this party.”

              “Yeah?” I roll over onto my side, and take a long look at the upstart. “How about me?”

              The spellcaster laughs, and says, “Alright, bird brain. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

              The two of us rise to our feet, the others in our little group laughing and placing imaginary bets on which of us is stronger. They seem to favor the low-class spellcaster with the neon hair. They don’t know just how wrong they are. He grins, and lays out the terms of the challenge. “We’ll use the shed in the backyard as our target. Two spells each. Winner is the one who can impress the crowd the most.”

              I look out at the tiny shed, and wonder just what on earth he thinks he can do to it, and mutter, “Got it.”

              My opponent goes first. He screws his eyes shut in concentration, and holds his hands up in front of him, as if he’s conducting an orchestra. Seconds later, the shed’s paint job shifts from light blue to shocking pink. Our little gang of onlookers applauds as he reverses the spell, and the bright color drains out of the shed. He bows to the crowd, then gestures for me to make my move.

              I’ll show him. I’ll show them all. I’ll just lift the shed and place it on the roof, then put it back where it once was. I extend my hand, facing my palm out to the backyard, and amass the power I think I’ll need for the spell. Instead of lifting off the ground, however, the shed explodes in a shower of earth and broken wood. It wasn’t at all what I meant to do, but at least it leaves my audience speechless.

              I look down at my hands, trying to figure out what happened. Sure, I haven’t cast many spells in the past couple of months, but have I really let my control over my power slip so far? Maybe not; earning my wings involved breaking the third, final seal on my power. The first two seals revealed enormous torrents of energy that I never expected myself to have. The third seal must have unleashed far greater power than I ever expected to have. I just don’t know my own strength anymore.

              With my second spell, I bring together the pieces of the shed I destroyed, and arrange them so that they’re all together again, and in the right shape. It
looks
as if nothing happened, but there’s already a growing crowd of partygoers from inside the house, trying to figure out what happened. One of them looks up at the roof, and shouts, “Will you guys cut that out? And get down from the roof! You’re gonna get yourselves killed.”

              One of my new friends shouts back, “It’s a party, bro! Calm your tits.”

              I look down at the crowd, and recognize Rachel and Alyssa standing out among the faces I cannot place. Alyssa catches my eye, and pleads with me, “Come down, Heather. I’m sorry, okay? You can stop acting like an idiot now.”

              I step onto the edge of the roof, despite gasps of concern from behind and below me. “You want me to come down?,” I reply. “Then fine. Here I come!” I lean forward, and let gravity do the rest of the work, plummeting to earth amidst the terrified shouts. I don’t know why they’re all so worried; I know exactly what I’m doing. I only let the fall last a split second before spreading my wings, and angling upward to soar above the backyard. And just like that, I’m flying away from the party, fighting the cool night air for altitude so I can avoid the trees.

              I don’t know exactly where I’m going at first, or even why. I was having fun. I wanted to stay. But Alyssa was right; I was sort of acting like an idiot. I decide to put as much distance between us as I can for the moment. I expand the range of my second sight, and lock on to Michael’s massive energy. It’s almost faint from so far away, but it’s still strong enough of a beacon to guide me home.

***

              Morning brings with it a pulsing pain in my temples, and just the slightest bit of confusion. I don’t remember much of my midnight flight, certainly not the part where I made it home. But here I am, back in my bed, still wearing last night’s clothes. I groan, and roll out of bed onto the floor, where I struggle to my feet. I’m not just groggy, I’m sore all over. I wonder if I might have crashed into a tree on my way back last night. My memory of everything after drinking three potions back to back is pretty hazy.

              I grab some water from the kitchen, and my headache slowly fades into an occasional pound against the inside of my skull. I’m still not feeling my best, but it’ll do. I step outside, squinting through the glare of the early morning sun, and walk out onto the grass beside the lake. It takes a few moments of mental preparation, but I eventually dive into my morning stretches. They’ve become so much a part of my daily regimen, that I don’t need Michael’s supervision. I remember them by heart.

              I’m in the middle of a triangular stretch when I hear someone walking out onto the deck. I pay them no mind; I’m not opposed to being watched. But a wave of annoyance washes over me when Nick calls out, “You’re up early.”

              I stand up straight, and raise my hands to the sky as I bend my body slightly backward. “It’s part of my routine. One night of fun won’t change that.”

              “That’s exactly what I mean. From what I heard, you were the life of the party last night.”

              “Yeah, well, you were off in the woods when everything went down, so you wouldn’t know.” I exhale, and bend at the waist so that my fingers touch my toes. “It’s nice to see you have a type, though.”

              “A type?”

              “Yeah. Girls with wings.”

              Nick scoffs, and says, “Amy is not my type.”

              “No?” I straighten out my body, and turn to face Nick at last. “Then why did you run off with her last night?”

              Nick vaults over the deck’s railing, and lands with a soft thud near where I’m standing. “It’s not like that with Amy,” he says. “She was trying to help me find some answers.”

              “Answers about what?”

              “About these.” Nick reaches down, and pulls off his shirt. For a moment, I’m alarmed, but I soon realize that he’s merely showing me the strange marks I’ve noticed on him lately. The black veins race outward from his heart, branching out and overlapping as they claim him. What’s worse, his skin is starting to turn pale, paler than it ever was during his time as a vampire.

              I absentmindedly reach out to touch Nick’s chest, but pull my hand back before I can. “What’s happening to you…?”

              “I don’t know,” Nick says. “But I’ve been trying to find out. It hasn’t exactly been easy. Michael hates me, Alyssa doesn’t know what to make of it, and you won’t even look at me. So I asked Amy if she knew what was going on.”

              “And did she?”

              “Yes and no. We foraged for herbs, and she tried a natural salve to draw out anything that might have been causing this. But when that didn’t work, she came up with a theory. The only one that makes sense.”

              “Okay…?”

              “She said my soul might be tainted.”

              The words crash over me in waves, and I find it hard to breathe. I was worried something like this would happen… Lucifer
did
ruin Nick’s soul somehow. And I’m not sure if there’s any way to fix it. I clear my throat, and ask, “Does it hurt?”

              “No.” Nick pulls his shirt back on, and says, “It’s not painful, but it’s spreading fast. It seems like every time I cast a spell, the veins reach further and further from where they started. But the strangest part is, I get stronger every time as well.”

              “Nick, have you ever considered that maybe using your powers will kill you? You need to stop before-“

              “No way. I’m a fast learner, like you. And at this rate, I’ll be able to-“

              “To what? Leap in and protect me when I look like I need saving? I don’t need you to, I never have-“

              “Heather, have you ever
once
in your life considered that it’s not all about you?” I gaze up at Nick with my jaw hanging open; in all the time I’ve known him, Nick has never spoken to me this way. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for me.”

              “Why...?”

              “I’ve accepted that you don’t need a savior. You’ve proven that again and again, and I respect that. Hell, I admire that about you. And it’s something that I’m trying to find in myself. The strength to save myself. So that I won’t have to rely on you or anyone else.”

              I look down at my feet, and shove my hands in my pockets. I hadn’t thought of it that way. If I were in Nick’s shoes, I would be just as frustrated, and tired of feeling helpless. I’d do anything I could to turn the tables. “I’m sorry,” I mutter with my eyes turned downward. “I should have realized that’s how you felt.”

              “Yeah, well, it’s not like you can read my mind. So if you don’t talk to me, you don’t get to know these things.”

              Something within me twists at Nick’s words, and the pain of losing him rises to the surface for a split second. “Nick…”

              “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot. I just… even if you can’t be with me right now, I think it would be a shame to just throw away what we had entirely. It would be like the time we’ve spent together was a waste. And I care too much about our bond to let that be the case.”