Michael (31 page)

Kim rolled out of bed, her head and body aching. 7 a.m., the clock said. Not much time to get ready. She had to pee like a racehorse, so she shuffled to the bathroom. Airel was gone, the other side of her bed had been vacated. Ellie too had apparently left; her bed was empty as well. Kim stumbled, stubbing her toe on the leg of the desk. She bit her lip and swore loudly, hopping the rest of the way to her black duffel by the closet. She grabbed it violently and limped into the bathroom.

It was muggy, she realized, as she turned on the light. Airel and Ellie hadn’t showered long ago at all. They were probably downstairs having coffee.

“Coffee…” she slurred. She had a craving. But if she was honest she would admit that coffee wasn’t even close to half of it. She craved something else. Badly. Like a drug.

Naked, she reached mindlessly into her bag and rooted around for something to wear. Her finger brushed up against something exquisite, gorgeous and terrible. Instinct rose up and she clawed at it. That’s when everything came unhinged in her mind, snapping her will like an old dry rubber band.

“I’ve always been here. And I always will be.”

“Yesssssss,” she whispered, drawing the object out from the duffel. The bathroom became red, pulsing with the light of the Bloodstone. Her bladder let go, emptying itself all over the floor, but she didn’t even notice. She only gazed into the redness of the Bloodstone. With every ounce of her will, she wanted to dive into it, curl up inside it and die there, be unmade, find ultimate satisfaction.

In the meantime, the stone went to work. Patchwork. Remaking the outer shell of the one called Kim into something that might pass for beauty in certain circles. Appearances mattered a great deal. If nothing else, she would appear to be striking and different. In any case, the bruises and scratches were to heal.
NOW.
The kingdom of Hell didn’t
suffer
violence. It
was
violence.

CHAPTER X

Arlington, Oregon, present day

MICHAEL LAY IN BED staring at the ceiling, the sun piercing through the gap in the curtains, making everything plain and drab. It was nearly a quarter to 8 a.m., but he wasn’t mindful of the time. He was riding in the painful place of existence where time didn’t matter, where everything was meaningless.

He drew his arms up and rubbed the scar on his chest. It throbbed and ached and itched him deeply. It was getting worse. He needed help. “But there’s no one,” he said to the empty room. Not his dad, Stanley Alexander, who had been a selfish traitor from day one, leaving him an emotionally bastardized freak, all alone. Not Kreios, who had cursed him with unnatural bizarre demonic patchwork. Not even Airel. She didn’t get it.

Would she ever?

He wanted to be rid of the connection with the Brotherhood forever. He wanted to move on, be done with it, be left in peace. But life wasn’t turning out to be so simple. It was enormously complex and paradoxical.

Life would just be an endless sprint and they would run like animals, fighting to stay alive. There had to be a way to end it, to cut off completely from his past and start over with Airel. To love her, and that alone. That would be more than enough to satisfy him. His greatest fear, though, was that he had made too many decisions already, that those decisions had taken him too far down a path from which there was no return. Certain things, indeed, could not be undone.

There would be Hell to pay quite literally for what he had done to the Brotherhood. In that sense he was in good company, for that was where Kreios had ended up too. He couldn’t pick a more powerful ally than that. Too bad the angel of El hated him. Michael chuckled bitterly at the absurdity of the idea; they would never be allies. It was impossible. Kreios was, truth be told, probably just saving him for last. Oh, he would have great fun with Michael. It made sense; it’s what he would have done were he in the same shoes.

He coughed and held his chest. There was the unmistakable iron taste of blood in his mouth. But it was time to go. Maybe he could sleep on the plane.

We had all agreed to meet in the lobby at 8 a.m.

Ellie and I sat by the doughnuts sipping black coffee.
I could murder for my coconut latte.
“Bleagh,” I said, scraping my tongue along the roof of my mouth like a dog eating peanut butter.

Ellie laughed, her spiky blue mane quivering in the rakish early morning light. “What’s the matter? Don’t like drinking off the bottom of the trough?”

“No,” I said. “I miss my Moxie.”

She smiled, bemused. “I’ve gotta take you to Europe some time. There’s this little shop in Rome that makes espresso that would kill you Americans with a single drop. And don’t get me started on Turkish coffee. Cor!”

I just shook my head and smirked. Ellie was a pretty fascinating person, I had to admit it. Why was I so reluctant to let my guard down with people?
Probably because they sometimes turn out to be made of newspapers and photographs and other things that are not nice. And then they try to kill you. I guess that’s why.
I rolled my eyes at myself.
Lighten up, girlie.
I smiled at that.

“Hey, Els,” I said, shortening her name in an attempt to bridge whatever gap I had engineered between us. “Can I say something?”

“Sho,” she said in her peculiar Aussie-ish Brit-like accent. “Fire away.”

“Well,” I began, feeling awkward, “I just want you to know that I’ve been…um…a real jerkhead to you at certain points…um, recently. And I’m sorry for that.”

She laughed easy.

“I really am. And I’d like to tell you thanks for all your help. With, um…everything. With Michael. I haven’t appreciated you like I should.”

“No worries, girlie. I knew you’d come round.” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Eventually.”

I laughed. “Dude, can we be friends now? Sheesh.”

“Deal,” she said, and we shook on it.

I took another sip of what tasted like cigarette butt soup. “Gawgh! What do they
put
in this stuff?”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal where I come from. Here,” she said, getting up and tossing a few little cups of French vanilla cream at me. “Try this.”

“Ugh, are you kidding? That’s like putting salsa on a turd burrito.”

She spit her coffee out, laughing, trying to catch most of it with her styrofoam cup and failing. “Aw, look at that! Gross!”

We both fell over on our chairs, laughing like junior high girls joking about body parts. It was awesome. I felt like maybe this trip, this adventure would turn out okay after all.

We were interrupted by Michael. “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “And I think you’ve probably had enough coffee. Already.”

“Howzit, mate,” Ellie said.

I smiled. I was glad to see him, glad to see he was in a good mood. “Hi. It’s really good to see you,” I said, hoping he could tell by the look in my eyes that I was as sincere as I could be.

“You too,” he said, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek.

My temperature rose by degrees, coloring my face. I could feel it. “Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand, “you really don’t want to try the coffee. I promise.”

He laughed as he sat beside me. “Okay, then.”

“And by the way, first things first. I’m really sorry if I’ve been horrible to you lately.”

He looked shocked. “If?!” He held my gaze powerfully for a moment. Then a smile broke across his face. He was flirting with me. “All is forgiven, my love. And thank you.”

I just sat there and beamed. “So…you’re doing well today then?” I didn’t want to broach the subject of Marc and having to bury the bodies of little boys, however demonic they might have been. I didn’t want to ask him about the Bloodstone that I knew beyond shadow of doubt he now carried. That he must carry, no matter how chipper he appeared to be. I was worried, but I let it go for now.

He squeezed my hand. “Yeah.”

I looked at Ellie and she gave a little tick of the head in signification of the affirmative. All was well. I was learning to trust, even if I didn’t know why Michael chose not to let me know about the Bloodstone. I loved and trusted him enough to know that he had a good reason for it. For now.

“Where’s Kim?” I asked.

“Speak of the devil,” came a voice from outside our little enclave. It was Kim.

She looked…well…sexy. That’s the only way to describe it. She was wearing a cute sundress and sandals, but there was nothing innocent or wholesome about her look. Sure, she looked well, but there was something just slightly off about her. It wasn’t necessarily a new look for her either; I had known her to use it on occasion before. But it was a marked change from how Ellie and I had seen her in the room just a few hours ago.

“Wow, Kim! Glad to see you’re…you’re up,” I said, bewildered at how well… -ish… she had cleaned up. “I was just coming to check on you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now, so no need.” She yawned and stretched herself like a lioness, making the dress pull at her body and slide over her feminine curves.

I cleared my throat, embarrassed for her. “Coffee?” I thumbed over my shoulder in the general direction of the dispenser of hot brown industrial grade paint thinners. I caught Ellie’s eye and shrugged with a grimace. What else could be next with Kim?
Welcome, Awkward Woman! Superheroine of the weird. Thanks for showing up to torture all of us with your undiluted and latently sexual oddness.

“Oh, thanks! Yeah,” she said, grabbing herself a cup and filling it to the brim. She took a sip. She growled with deep satisfaction, like she was selling breakfast cereal in one of those cheesy old TV commercials from when I was a kid. “Oh, man! This is
so
good.”

“Do you want mine?” Ellie said, and I kicked her, trying hard not to laugh.

Kim didn’t notice. “Oh! Hey,” she addressed Ellie, “Thanks for getting me my new bag, Ellie. I really needed one and I really like it.” She twisted around so we could see it. It was a bright pink backpack for elementary school girls, with an enormous Hello Kitty cartoon on it.

“Oh, you’re welcome, love,” Ellie said. “It suits you.”

Kim dropped her jaw and gasped in pantomime excitement, “I
know,
right?!” She took another sip, gulping the coffee like a lumberjack.

Dear God, she is acting weird.

“Dude! Okay, who wants breakfast?” She was being just slightly too loud, and people were turning to notice the disturbance. “I do!” she raised her hand shouting like a cheerleader, and then burst into maniacal laughter.

“Kim!” I hissed, grabbing her hand and leading her toward the front doors. “What did you do, bathe in whiskey this morning?”
And drink most of it?
“What is wrong with you?” I looked over my shoulder to Michael and Ellie, signaling them to grab our stuff and come along. The last thing we needed to do was draw attention to ourselves. I wanted to get us out of there like yesterday.
Please, God, just let us get on the plane and get out of here.

Kim skipped along holding my hand like a six-year-old playing double-dutch. Her ridiculous backpack knocked obnoxiously from side to side as we left the building.

“Jeez, Kim. Settle.”

“OHMYGOSH I had the most weirdest dream, Airel. You totally have to hear about it,” she grabbed both of my hands and took a breath. “See, there was this guy walking down the street, and all along the sidewalk there were these ladders leaned up against the buildings, but he was like totally walking along, like, UNDER ALL OF THEM, and I was like holy crap that is a lot of bad luck he’s rackin’ up, HAHAHAHAHA!” she bent over cackling raucously at her funny joke.

I looked around desperately for a way out of this.

“Oy!” Ellie called from behind us. “Over here!” She was pointing to an old brown pickup truck sitting at the curb idling. A large man stood by the door with his arms crossed, smiling. “Pile in!” Ellie said.

Before I could move, Kim sprinted for the man, going boldly right up to him and introducing herself with plenty of posturing.

Gall, he must be twice her age. Gross.
The man walked her politely to the passenger side door like a gentleman and saw that she was seated before closing it.

As he was walking back around to the driver’s side, our paths crossed and he introduced himself. “Hex,” he said with a gregarious engaging smile and a crushing handshake.

“Airel,” I said, withdrawing my hand to brush my hair out of my eyes. I looked behind him to see Ellie and Michael tossing our bags into the bed of the truck.

“Don’t mind this old banger,” he said, gesturing to the pickup. “Necessity produces strange bedfellows.” His smile was broad, revealing a wall of gleaming white teeth.

“Okay,” I said, a little confused.

“That’s Hex,” Ellie called to me as she hopped into the back.

“Yeah, we met,” I said, skirting around him toward Michael, who then traded me places and introduced himself, getting his metacarpals crushed in turn.

“He’s my pilot.”

“Oh, cool,” I said. Michael then came back and, like a gentleman, helped me up and in. I let him think I needed that, for him. I grabbed one of the wheel wells as a seat. Rusty chains and bits of straw littered the bed of the truck.