Soul Thief (4 page)

I screamed and this time sound rose up from my throat. I collapsed as if he'd pulled my spine straight out of my back.

“Are you all right, Riley?” Leander held a hand to my shoulder to support me.

I didn't bother to reply. Instead, I focused all my strength on sitting up straight. When I opened my eyes the room looked exactly the same as before, which was not what I expected. From the way Leander spoke about tearing down the barrier and all that, I expected something would change afterward. “Everything looks the same.”

“Of course it does. Everything
is
the same. You're the one who's different.”

“How so?” My head throbbed as if someone was slamming nails into my skull. If I didn't get any sleep sometime soon, then I'd go berserk.

Hello, Riley.

Leander hadn't spoken at all — his lips hadn't even moved. But his voice resonated loudly and clearly through my mind.

My mouth dropped open. “That's awesome.”

“It is. But if the wrong people can hear your thoughts, it won't be awesome for long. So first thing we'll learn is to block your mind from others.”

“You mean you can read
all
my thoughts from now on? Not just the ones I'm sending out consciously?”

“Yep.”

I pursed my lips. “I'm not that fond of these mind reading powers anymore.”

Leander grinned and helped me to get up. “I know this is a lot to take in. But you'll get used to it. This is your heritage, the person you were always meant to be.”

“Or a fever dream. I haven't exactly made up my mind about that yet.”

He escorted me out of the office and back to the living room, where Diane had decided to turn on the TV. The TV was one of those expensive flat screens that descended out of the ceiling. My Dad would've given half a leg for a TV like that.

“Are all Angels this rich?” I could barely hide my contempt.

“When you live for as long as we do, you have plenty of time to collect some wealth.” Leander stared at his feet, for the first time avoiding my gaze, almost as if he felt embarrassed about it. “On top of that, this is a safe house, which means that, at times, there may be a dozen or more Angels living here. We need the space.”

“Okay, I guess. I assumed if you had safe houses or anything of the kind, it would be back where the Council room was.” Then I frowned and turned to Diane. “Where exactly
was
the Council room?”

“I'll leave that explanation for another day before you fall asleep while standing up,” she said after one short look at me. “Come on, Halfling. Back to the hospital with you.”

I accepted her arm and braced myself for another transportation session.

“I'll see you soon, Riley,” Leander said. “Nice pajamas, by the way.”

My gaze dropped to my feet, still inside the pink slippers, and then traveled to my bunny-pajama pants. Before my mouth could drop to the floor, Diane pulled me away from the living room, into the void, and whatever worries I had of a cute guy and an entire formal Council seeing me in cute bunny pajamas, were replaced by worries of not throwing up right here and now.

I WOKE UP WITH
the mother of all headaches and the idle hope that everything that happened last night had been a bad fever-inspired dream.

Doctor Squirrel scurried into my room about an hour after I'd woken up and checked up on me. After a few short tests, she declared me a healthy specimen and told me I could call my parents to pick me up.

Hallelujah. The hospital smell had begun to ooze into my skin and I feared that the smell would stick to me forever if I had to be here one more day.

I changed into my regular clothes and folded the bunny pajamas into the suitcase my parents had brought along when they came to see me yesterday. I sniggered at the memory of Leander and his comment about my bunny pajamas. I wouldn't mind all that much if
he
had been real. But the odds were he was just as imaginary as the Council, Diane, and me being a Halfling Angel.

When I was done folding everything, I sat down and watched TV. A while later, a knock on the door startled me and when I turned around, my parents stood in the doorway.

Mom looked years younger than yesterday, as if one night of decent sleep had washed away all her worries. She scooped me into a hug and planted a kiss on my forehead. “You look a lot better, young lady.”

Dad held Cassie in his left arm and lifted my suitcase with his other hand. “We're going to drop by Grandma's first. She's been dying to see you but she can't close the shop right now.”

“Sounds great.” At the promise of getting out of this place, I'd be okay with visiting great-aunt Cynthia, and she was so boring she fell asleep in the middle of her own stories. My Grandma, Gran as we all called her, was about as different from great-aunt Cynthia as stone to gold. When she told you a story it was impossible to even try thinking of anything else.

We took the elevator down to the first floor. As soon as we exited the building, cold autumn wind wrapped around me and toyed with my hair. I whirled around, letting the wind sweep me up. It hadn't dawned on me earlier, not even when Mom told me about the car accident and what happened, but I'd gotten lucky. I was still alive. And the bubbling, bursting joy I felt because of that rose up in my throat and came out in a loud laugh.

Cassie grabbed my hands and together we danced and twirled all the way to the car. I'd never felt so alive before.

* * *

Half an hour later we arrived at Gran's. Gran was the proud owner of a new age shop with the very original title Herbie's Herbs — her name was Herbie, but God knows why her parents ever called her that.

The shop was a mix-match of different styles. The walls were painted in bright colors from yellow to purple. Wooden shelves were lined up across the walls and bookcases in various shapes and sizes took up the center of the room. Dozens of different things, from dead monkeys on water to mineral stones to dragon eggs — even though I seriously doubted those were from real dragons — filled the shelves. The shop only had one small show window, which was covered in so much dust you could barely see through it. Mom had offered to clean it about a dozen times, but Gran refused. She said it gave the place personality. Mom insisted it only gave dust allergies.

The door of the shop opened with a cling-clang sound when we walked inside. The familiar sight of dried herbs, dream catchers, and African voodoo statues greeted me. The smell of vanilla and darker, richer aromas like chocolate and spices filled the entire room.

Gran appeared behind the counter. She was an impressive woman who could best be compared to a mother bear. She was tall as a gladiator and square-shaped, not really fat, just taking up a lot of space. Her grey hair was tied in a bun and she always wore dresses that looked like circus tents, as if she'd stayed stuck in the hippie era. The current one had a floral design, with flowers in yellow and pink printed all across the fabric. She wore Jesus sandals, large oval gypsy earrings, and at least one ring on each finger.

“Riley!” She raced toward me a lot faster than you'd think a woman her size and age could move and crushed me in a hug. “I'm so glad you're okay.”

The ruffles of her dress tickled my nose but the hug was so nice that I didn't want to mention it. It was only when she was about to crush my spine that I remarked upon it.

She let go right away, a giant smile plastered on her face. “All of you have to stay for lunch. I insist.” She winked at me. “I made your favorite food.”

“I don't know.” Mom looked at me. “Riley is probably still tired and you're busy with the shop.”

“Nonsense. Are you tired?” Gran put her hands on her hips and stared at me.

I shook my head. Even if I was, there was no use arguing with Gran. She was a general of the Roman army and we were her soldiers. Even if we refused, she'd still talk us into doing it somehow. But right now, she didn't have to convince me. I longed for company, for normal stuff, for a way to forget all about accidents and fever dreams.

Gran took us up the stairs and to the kitchen, all the while ignoring Mom's complaints about how dangerously steep the stairs were, how she should move into an apartment, forget about the shop and hang around with people her own age. Gran was great at ignoring my Mom's nagging, an ability I wish I had as well.

The kitchen was a cozy, small space completely cramped with furniture and inventory boxes for the shop. A table covered with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth stood in the middle of the room. The kitchen always smelled like good food, even if nothing was cooking. Gran blamed her Italian roots for her cooking obsession. She loved making pastas and I loved eating them, so I spent many an afternoon hanging out in her kitchen under the pretense of helping in the shop, when I had really come to eat her food.

We all sat down and Gran poured wine for Mom and Dad, a large glass of wine for me and a soda for Cassie. Since Mom didn't argue about the wine, I figured I'd deserved it and gulped half of it in one sip. Mom raised her eyebrows but she didn't say anything.

After we'd chit-chatted for a while, Gran announced she needed help in the basement. “I've got a new item for the shop and it's quite heavy. Maybe you could give me a hand, Riley?”

Mom turned toward me. “I don't think Riley is capable of doing any heavy lifting right now.”

“It's not
that
heavy.” Gran winked at me.

“I can help,” Dad offered.

“No,” Gran snapped. “I mean, you have to stay here and make sure my pasta isn't overcooked.”

It was a lame excuse and everyone knew it, even Cassie, who frowned at me and softly shook her head.

“I'll be right back.” I patted my sister on the head and then followed Gran down two flights of stairs to the basement.

The basement ran all the way under the house and served as a makeshift home for all the stuff that couldn't get a proper spot in the shop. It was filled with boxes from top to bottom, and at first glance, it was as disorganized as a place could get. Yet if Gran needed something from here, she always conjured it up in a matter of minutes, as if she knew where it was all along.

A lone, bare light bulb provided a sparse amount of light. The smell of damp, withering newspapers and mold entered my nostrils. I sneezed and Gran grinned.

“Why did you bring me down here, Gran?”

“Because we have to talk, Riles.” She always called me Riles whenever things got serious. She motioned to one of the crates in the corner of the basement and then sat down on another crate.

“You've changed,” Gran said. “Not just because of the accident. Something has changed inside of you.”

Was she talking about the fever dream?

“What do you…?” I started, but she interrupted me.

“They found you, didn't they?”

Found me? What did she think I was, an alien?

“I'm not sure who you're talking about.”

“The Angels,” Gran said. “I wish I could've protected you better.” She reached for my hand and covered it with her own. She sighed out loud, and in an instant she seemed to grow years older.

“You mean that… they're real? And you knew about it?” I yanked my hand free and stood up at once, almost bumping into one of the boxes scattered across the floor. “Why didn't you tell me?” I started shaking all over. If Gran said it was real, then it must be. But that meant… The Council. The Guardian. It had all been real.

Bile rose up in my throat and a metallic taste filled my mouth. I sat back down as the world began spinning all around me.

“'I'm sorry, honey.” Gran massaged her temples. “We thought it was for the best.”

“Who is
we
? Do Mom and Dad know about this as well?” My voice sounded high and shrill, and I barely recognized it.

Gran sighed. She folded her hands and rested her head on them. “This is a difficult story to tell so let me tell it to you in my own way, please. Don't interrupt me.”

I didn't reply, and she seemed to take that as a sign to continue.

“When you were born, I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw you. There was this strange, otherworldly glow around you, and I knew right away that you were different. I didn't know why or how until I visited one of my friends, a voodoo doctor in New Orleans. She told me that you were half Angel, half human, and that if I loved you, I'd bind your powers. Because if the wrong people found out who you were, then your life would be at risk.”

She paused and fumbled with her sleeves. “I dove into the world of the occult, desperate to know more about what you were and what it meant. I opened up this shop and filled it with all sorts of traps and potions so I could protect you when necessary. At first, whenever someone came into the shop, or whenever someone asked about you, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I was terrified they'd come to take you away. But when nobody came and the months turned into years, I hoped against all odds that they'd never find you. But now… well, you're glowing like a neon light.”

“Mom and Dad never mentioned I was glowing.” I stared at my hands, unwilling to face her.

“That's because they can't see it. Only paranormal creatures can.”

I blinked and pulled back a little. “You mean — you're one too?” A wave of relief rolled over me. At least I wouldn't be alone in all this madness.

“Not like you. I'm a witch.” Gran snorted. “It should've been pretty obvious, given the store and the spells.”

“I always thought that was fake. You told me it was fake!”

“Well, of course I did. I had to keep you as far away from the paranormal world as possible. How did they find out about you anyway?”

I told her the entire story from start to finish. It felt like a stone was lifted from my heart just telling her. She listened without a word. “But this whole being half an Angel, half a human thing. How does that work? Is it random? Do they pick humans to become Angels or something like that?”

Gran sniffed and took a deep breath. “For a Halfling to be born, a human has to mate with an Angel.”

I nearly choked. My breath got stuck in my throat, and I let out a dry cough. “You mean… my Mom… and an Angel?”

“Yes. I tried to ask her about it many times, but she always remained mute. Kept insisting she'd never been with anyone except your Dad.”

“Would that be possible?” I wanted to hold on to that straw with all I had, but it slipped right out of my hands when Gran shook her head.

“No. But the Angel could've disguised himself somehow, so she could've thought it was your Dad.”

I fought against the tears. “You mean that… my Dad isn't my Dad?”

The thought was impossible to understand. My Dad, who'd always been there for me, who played with me for hours on end, who built me a dollhouse when I kept nagging about it; the Dad who bandaged my knees when I scraped them, who read me bedtime stories when I was a little kid… Dad who was always there for me, no matter what happened.

He wasn't my real Dad.

“Why?” My voice broke. “I'm okay with being this, but not with… Dad.”

Gran took my hands and rubbed them softly. “I don't know how it happened, dear, but I'm sure your Mom never wanted this to happen. She doesn't even know about it.”

“So she's not a paranormal too?”

“No. She's just human, like her father.”

“Why isn't she a Halfling witch then, if you're one?”

“Witchcraft just doesn't work that way. You're either born with the gift or you're not.” She paused and looked me straight in the eyes. “But honey, this doesn't change anything. Your Dad is still your Dad. That will never change.”

A tear fell down my cheek and Gran rubbed it with her thumb.

The news of Dad not being my true father had ripped the rug out from under my feet and turned the entire world upside down. Even if Gran said it didn't change anything, to me it changed everything.

I wasn't Riley Scott anymore. I was Riley, daughter of an Angel of Death who tricked my Mom into sleeping with him. Because I couldn't accept that my Mom would cheat on my Dad, even before I was born. I simply couldn't.

Gran gave me a few minutes to pull myself together. She gave me another bear hug. “I'm sorry you have to go through all this, honey. Give it some time to sink in.”

“I can't believe you never told me.” The betrayal stung, and red hot, flaring anger soared through my body. I wanted to hit something. Someone. “And I can't wrap my head around how all of this can be real.”

We talked for a bit longer, Gran mostly explaining her reasons why she never told me — which in my mind translated as utter nonsense — and me thinking about how I was going to handle all this.

When the Council declared me a Halfling, I was so surprised that I didn't stop to think about how it was possible part of me was an Angel of Death. But now that I knew the truth, I wish I didn't.