Perennial (12 page)

“I
wish it were that easy,” he says, “but demons have one huge advantage over us.
Alix, I’m a messenger for something called the Army of Light, a type of
otherworldly network that’s been at battle with the demonic Army of Fire since
the beginning of time.”

“Light
and Fire,” I say. “Good and evil.”

“Exactly.”

“Heaven
and hell.”

“All
synonyms for the same two things,” he confirms. “Fire and Light.”

“What
are you, then? Some sort of angel warrior?”

“I
suppose you could say that,” he says. “Although I prefer the title of
messenger.”

“Fine,”
I say. “So what’s the huge advantage Fire has over Light?”

“This
is what it all comes down to,” he says. “Listen very carefully, because our
time is almost up and you won’t see me or your mother again unless you pass
your test.” He clears his throat. “Unlike demons, the Army of Light is unable
to cross over into the human realm. That’s why we rely on humans with strong
paranormal abilities to fight the demons that have crossed over and destroy
their active portals. That’s why you’re special to us. Do you understand how
important you are? There are very few people like you. Light is counting on
you, Alix. With your growing abilities, you can do so much good in the world.”
He steps forward and takes my hands, squeezing gently and sending wonderful
warmth through me. “This is not a dream, Alix. This is serious business. It’s a
lot to throw at you, yes, but we don’t have time to waste. Do you understand
what I’m saying to you and how important it is?”

“Yes,”
I say, wishing it all
were
a dream
and that I would awaken in the comfort of my own bed. “I need to tell you
something, though. I already told you I sensed evil beneath Oval City.”

“Correct,”
he says. “The answers you seek are all there.”

“But
the visions,” I say. “They don’t always follow the same pattern. They almost
always begin with a blast of white light, but I’ve had two where the light
changes to fire, and I can’t get any sort of reading on the person. Does that
mean anything to you?”

“I’m
afraid not,” he says. “It’s still a new and developing ability in you. My
advice is to just let it happen. Don’t fight it. You’ll figure it out
eventually.”

“And
you’ll keep your promise about my mom?” I squeeze his hands hard.

“I
will,” he says. “I promise. But you have to solve William’s murder first.”

“This
is a lot bigger than solving William’s murder,” I say. “We both know that now, so
you don’t need to keep it so simple. I’m starting to see why William and the others
don’t like you. What started as me solving a murder now has me battling demon
scouts and trying to kill a leader demon on his home turf. What happens if I
fail?”

Vagabond
doesn’t respond. Still holding my hands, he stares over my shoulder. Another troubled
look crosses his face. It’s as if he’s having a vision of his own. A scary one.

“What
is it?” I ask. “What are you seeing?”

“Alix,”
he says, “you’ve already seen and learned things that have changed your life
forever, but there’s more to come. There always is. It’s vital that you take
your father’s advice and try to remain calm in any situation you find yourself
in. You have the abilities. You have the knife. That’s all you need.
Understand?”

“Yes.”
I let go of his hands and remove the silver knife from my pocket, liking the
feel of it in my hand and enjoying the way the beautiful white light reflects
off of the shiny steel blade. “The cat-beast I killed in my living room,” I
say, rotating the knife from side to side. “I didn’t really kill it, did I?”

“No,”
Vagabond says, a slight smile on his face now. “You can’t kill a demon, Alix.
You can just destroy the bastards and send their negative energy back where it
belongs.”

“And
the fireball thing it did when I stabbed it,” I say, lowering the knife. “Do
they all do that?”

“They
do,” he says. “We simply call those Fires. You scored your first one tonight.
Try to keep track of them. Warriors like London and Roman have a friendly
contest going over who can get the most.”

“And
what about these symbols?” I offer him the knife handle for inspection. “All
the lines and triangles. What do they mean?”

“Hmm,”
he says, taking the knife into his large, strong hands and examining the handle
closely. “Interesting. It’s good news, actually, but I’ll let you do the
homework. In the meantime, I do know something about you.”

Vagabond
steadies his playful gaze on me.

“What
are you talking about?”

“Clasp
your hands together in front of your chest as if you’re praying.”

“What?”
I say. “Why?”

“Just
do it,” he says. “Trust me.”

I
do as he asks, but for the first time tonight I
don’t
trust him. In fact, my heart pounds as I hold my clasped
hands out in front of me. Then Vagabond’s enormous left hand comes up with
blinding speed as he grasps both of my hands in his palm. His strength is
inhuman. My hands are prisoners to his palm, unable to move. I don’t feel any
pain, just the uneasy feeling of knowing I’m not going anywhere until he
decides to release my hands.

He
raises the silver knife in his right hand and stares at me.

“What
are you doing?” I say, wide eyed. “Let me go. Please!”

“Easy
now,” he says. “Relax and observe, remember?”

“What’s
going on?”

“I
need to show you just how special you are,” he says, smiling. “Just breathe.
This won’t hurt a bit.”

I’m
helpless as Vagabond raises my joined hands until they’re level with his chest,
which puts them directly in front of my own eyes. He tightens his grip on the
knife, white light glinting off of the blade as he does so.

“Alix
Keener,” he whispers, a blank look on his face now. “You, my friend, are pure
Light.”

“No!”
I yell, seeing it in my mind just before it happens.

Again,
I’m too late.

A
blur of silver as Vagabond slices expertly through both of my wrists. I watch
in horror as my severed hands fall into the white light and vanish, leaving two
bloody stumps at my wrists. I close my eyes and scream, but then I realize
there’s no pain.

When
I open my eyes, Vagabond is gone. It’s just me surrounded by the beautiful
white light. I feel the knife in my pocket, back where it belongs, but when I
look at my hands, they’re not there. Instead, two softball-sized orbs of white
light shine brilliantly from my wrists. A feeling of immense power surges
through me. It’s as if the orbs are generators of immortality.

Moments
later, flaring white light blinds me like an Alaskan blizzard. Moments after
that, the light clears and I find myself back home, sitting on the cold living-room
floor and staring into space on a Wednesday night.

It
occurs to me to check my hands. They’re both there, attached and healthy.

William
Weed makes dream contact for the third consecutive night. I don’t even remember
falling asleep. All I recall is being exhausted after my memorable little field
trip with Vagabond and sitting there on the living-room floor, wondering if
maybe it was all a dream but knowing it wasn’t. It took everything I had just
to get myself up the stairs and into my bedroom. I’d planned on using my tablet
to research the knife symbols, and I remember sitting down at my small desk and
opening my favorite browser, but everything’s blank after that.

I
must have crashed at my desk, because right now I’m back in the clear, crisp
white light, surrounded by the smells of spring rain and delicate flowers. The
setting might be the same, but rain and flowers are William’s smells, not
Vagabond’s.

So
many things race through my mind as I await his appearance. Despite the fatigue
from such an eventful evening, I feel my powers getting stronger and remember
the overwhelming energy boost I experienced when the orbs of light replaced my
hands. Visions and blurry word clouds slice through my mind like a film
montage. I sense this is the last time I’ll see William. I feel bad for how
Vagabond has treated him, and as much as I try to fight it I realize at this
moment that I still have strong feelings for William Weed. He’s my Dream Guy, a
fantasy that happens to be all too real. I need to make the most of our last
encounter.

I
also feel guilty. It seems like I’m cheating on Lewis, but I haven’t even done
anything with William. I just happen to have an epic crush on a bad-boy ghost
while at the same time having my first real boyfriend. What’s strange is that I
didn’t think about William romantically at all when I was with Lewis tonight.
Yes, I’m committed to solving William’s murder and taking down Face and Oval
City, but tonight I felt like I’d gotten over the stronger feelings I had for
William during our first two dream encounters.

But
right now butterflies swarm through my stomach as I anticipate his arrival. I
feel like some weak, awkward middle-school girl who has a crush on the teacher.
Seriously, it’s like this place has some sort of William Weed pheromone that
renders me helpless and makes me long for his presence.

So
you can imagine the sheer joy I feel when William appears in his physical form
tonight. He materializes out of nowhere, William Weed standing three feet away
from me, again appearing as the William from the
Vagabond’s Warrior
blog photo. He’s shirtless and heavily muscled.
Black cargo shorts. Sunglasses. Black baseball cap backwards on his head. A
dazzling Japanese dragon tattoo runs down the length of each arm. My earlier
vision of the tattoos—the one where I also discovered William and Aruna had a
sexual relationship—proves dead accurate. The dragons burst with fresh greens,
purples, oranges, blues, and reds, their ornate mouths opening at his wrists as
if preparing to swallow his hands.

“William,”
I whisper, fighting a strong urge to reach out and touch his statuesque body.

“Hey,”
he says, smiling and revealing a perfect set of snow-white teeth. “Something
tells me you’ve had an eventful day.”

“You’re
actually talking,” I say, thrilled to hear his voice emerge from his mouth. “I
mean, it’s you speaking through your mouth this time.” I realize how dumb that
sounds and try to recover. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s just nice to hear
and
see you at the same time.”

“Yeah,”
he says, looking himself over as if he can’t believe it himself. “I wasn’t
expecting this either. Maybe Vagabond allowed it. This is my last visit, Alix.”

“I
know,” I say. “I sensed it.”

“You
know how this works,” he says. “I can’t confirm or deny any information you
give me, but I’m curious as to what you’ve learned. Do you think you know who
killed me yet?”

“Yes,”
I say. “Face.”

He
considers that for a few moments.

“And
why would Face want to kill me?”

“Because
he was jealous of you having Aruna,” I say. “I know you two were close.” I
pause. “Very close.” William smiles at that, a reaction that sends pangs of
jealousy through me. “And I know Aruna was helping you quit Perennial, so I
obviously know all about the purple powder and how it’s the lifeblood of Oval
City.”

“Sounds
like you’ve made progress,” he says, stepping closer and looking me over from
head to toe. “Those jeans look great on you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah,
thanks. My mom bought them for …” I trail off, totally flustered. “Never
mind. Look, William.”

“It’s Willis,”
he says. “People close to me called me Willis.”

“I like William
better.”

“Fine. Call me
William.” He smiles. “Something’s different about you, Alix. Besides the jeans,
I mean.” He takes another step, William less than a foot away as he leans in
and smells the air around me. “You seem a lot more confident tonight. That’s
pretty damn impressive for an innocent girl who’s in real danger for the first
time in her life.” He brushes his fingertips against the side of my face. I
don’t fight it. “Personally, I think it’s sexy as hell,” he adds, slowly
removing his hand from my cheek.

“Right,” I say,
still shocked with how helpless I am around him. “Truth is, Lewis has been a
big help.”

“Lewis,” William
says, shaking his head and looking down at his feet. “I bet he’s been a big
help.”

“I thought you
two were good friends,” I say. “He told me about freshman year and the
alternative academy.”

“We were good
friends,” he says, “but I resented him for getting clean. I never understood
how he was strong enough to quit Perennial. That powder, Alix—it’s incredible.
Lewis reached out more than once to try and help me, but I made it clear I
didn’t want him around.” He pauses. “We lost touch toward the end. It’s how
addicts are. We push everybody away. All we care about is figuring out how to
score more drugs.”

“Let me ask you
a question that has nothing to do with your murder,” I say. “Were you clean
when you died, or were you still using?”

He thinks about
it, surely not wanting to break any of Vagabond’s rules. Then he holds his
hands out, palms up, a clear signal he wants my hands to join his. I don’t
hesitate. His hands feel wonderful. They’re strong hands, but also soft,
gentle, and warm. As my hands venture up to his wrists I find myself fascinated
with the beauty of the colorful dragon mouths. I wrap my fingers around them,
knowing instantly that William wants me to read him. He can’t talk to me about
anything relating to his murder, but he’s discovered a loophole that he thinks
might work.

“I want to help
you, William,” I say, not wanting to let go of him. “But I don’t know if this
will work. I mean, you’re already … well, you know.”

“Dead?” he says.
“I’m aware of that. Just try, okay? This is the one and only chance you’ll get
with me. Vagabond will never know.” He smiles. “Think of it as testing your
powers on the deceased.”

I apply more
pressure to his wrists and stare at him. I wish I could remove his baseball cap
and sunglasses, but somehow I know those are two permanent accessories of his.
Nothing happens at first, and I really don’t mind. Just touching him feels
incredible enough. Seconds later, though, the white light flares in my mind,
causing me to squeeze William’s wrists hard. I feel him steadying me as I’m
blinded by the light.

Then I squeeze
my eyes shut.

The vision
places me in a bedroom. It’s my bedroom. No. Wait. It’s my bedroom as it looked
when William had it. I’m invisible here. It’s night, the room dark and silent.
William is sleeping alone, his bed in the same spot as mine. I sense that Aruna
hasn’t been here in many days. She’s gone from his life for good. That checks
with what Lewis said about her disappearing before William died.

What else?

William is
incredibly sad about her absence. And he’s clean. In his last few months of
life, he’d broken free of Perennial’s evil grasp. This is amazing, but it’s
also part of the reason he’s so sad right now. Aruna helped him beat the drug,
and now that she’s gone he’s very close to relapsing.

But that won’t
happen, because … oh, God … that won’t happen because this is the night
he dies.

Another flare of
white momentarily blinds me.

I’m back in the
room. Chaos. It’s like watching movie footage somebody shot while running with
a handheld camera. A large, tall, dark man is on top of William, straddling him,
his back facing me. Everything is blurry. William. Lying on his stomach. He’s
struggling like a trapped animal, but even somebody with his strength is
helpless in this position.

The man removes
what looks like a large, clear oven bag from inside his coat and places it
expertly over William’s head. Then he violently pulls what looks and sounds
like some sort of cord along the open end of the bag. I hear the bag seal
itself around William’s throat and watch in horror as he struggles
unsuccessfully to break free.

Several seconds
later, the killer holds William’s motionless body in place for a few moments
before turning him over onto his back and propping his corpse up, giving the
eerie appearance that William suffocated himself on purpose while sitting up in
bed. Just when I think the worst is over, the murderer quickly withdraws an
object from his back pocket and places it into William’s lifeless right hand,
the killer holding the object in place so that it doesn’t fall. It’s a handgun,
I realize.
William’s
handgun. Somehow
I know this. The murderer knew where to find the weapon, and now he’s raising
the gun in William’s hand and bringing it toward the side of his bag-covered head.

A loud cracking
sound and a burst of orange from the gun barrel. William’s head slumps to the
left. The killer gently lowers the gun hand.

A staged
suicide. William Weed was murdered. There’s no question about it now. I just
watched it happen. But why can’t I get a better view of the killer? Is it Face?
It has to be. I don’t know anybody else who has a motive.

Another
explosion of white. The reading is over.

A deep exhale as
the vision fades, and I’m back in front of William. He’s holding me tightly, my
fingers digging into his wrists.

“That was
intense,” William says, massaging my forearms. “What did you see?”

“I saw your
murder,” I say, wiping a tear away and catching my breath. “A man put some kind
of suicide bag over your head. Then he shot you in the side of the head but
made it look like you killed yourself.” I close my eyes in a failed attempt to
wipe the horrible images from my mind. “It was all so planned out, William. He
wanted it to seem like you tried suffocating yourself and then shot yourself in
the temple just before you passed out. To the police, it looked like the gun
was a backup plan and you used it because the bag took too long to do the job.”
I open my eyes and shake my head. “It was awful. What kind of a deranged
psychopath does that to another human being?”

“Face,” William
says, squeezing me harder. “Did you see him, Alix? Was it Face?”

“I don’t …”
I close my eyes, frustrated. “I don’t know, William. I can’t say for sure. It
was too dark. Everything was choppy and blurry. But who else would have wanted
you dead?”

He looks away
but doesn’t say anything.

“What?” I say.
“There’s something you want me to know, but you’re not allowed to say it. Screw
Vagabond. Just tell me what I need to know!” He shakes his head and stays
silent. “Who else wanted you dead?” I yell, shaking his arms but knowing he
won’t cross Vagabond. “Look, even if it was Face, how would I know? Lewis says
nobody even knows who Face is. Is that true? If you saw Face, would you know
it?”

“Yes!” William
snaps, breaking his arms free from mine. “I know who Face is, okay, Alix? Not
many people do, but I’m one of the unlucky few.”

“Then you know
what he really is, right?” I ask, curious as to how much he knows about Fire
and Light.

“I’m not sure
what you’re talking about,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “All I know is that
Face is a goddamn freak of nature who took away Aruna. She got me clean, Alix.”

“She got you
clean and then Face kidnapped her,” I say. “You know Face’s true identity, and
that’s why he killed you. He couldn’t take any chances. You were off Perennial
and thinking clearly for the first time in who knows how long. Face is the only
one with the power and skills to make it look like a suicide. Face killed you,
William. I’m sure of it.”

“But you can’t
prove it yet, can you?”

“No!” I shout.
“It’s not like the courts allow psychic visions as evidence.” I put my hands on
my hips and groan. “It goes way beyond that anyway.”

“What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“Never mind,” I
say, looking down and shaking my head. “There are things you can’t tell me, and
I’ve learned some things I can’t tell you.”

“I’m sorry,
Alix,” he says, “but I have to go soon.”

“I know,” I say,
calming myself and taking his hands again. “Look, I’m sorry about how Vagabond
is treating you, but I’ll figure it all out by the end of Friday. I’ll prove
Face killed you, and I’ll put him out of business forever.” I think about my
conversation with Vagabond and Face’s possible grand plan. “I
have
to put him out of business
forever.”

“I know
Vagabond’s using me to test you,” William says. “And I’m okay with it. I just
want to know who killed me. If it was Face, then take his ass down, Alix, but
don’t get yourself killed doing it.”

“I’ll do my
best,” I say. “Look, you do know Aruna’s still alive, right?”

“And still with
Face,” William says, nodding. “I know. And I know she’s been back on Perennial
since right after I died.”

I think about my
vision of her impending death and find it hard to look at William.