Death, and the Girl He Loves

Normally at such a time, everyone would be staying the night. Brooke had her own bed in my room and Glitch always slept on the floor with a sleeping bag. Before I’d left for Maine, even Cameron would stay over, keeping watch from my window seat. Jared was now living in the apartment behind our store. His closeness made me feel safe and a little giddy.

But I had Kenya to think about now. She could take the extra bed in my room. Cameron disappeared without saying a word and Jared kissed my cheek congenially before going to his apartment behind the store.

I got the feeling my grandparents wanted to talk to Mac alone. Grandma made coffee as I gave my two grandfathers a quick kiss on the cheek before they headed into our living room.

“I want you to get some rest,” Grandma said as I gave her a kiss, too.

“I can’t make any promises, Grandma. My new roommate is a party animal.”

Kenya’s expression deadpanned as she followed me up the narrow stairs.

“I mean it!” Grandma called out to us.

“Me, too!” I called back. “If you hear dancing and a live band, just ignore it.”

I had yet to reacquaint myself with my room. It was just as I’d left it, only cleaner. My peach-colored bedspread lay rumple-free atop its twin bed, the one that used to house a canopy when I was a kid. The other twin bed, the one my grandparents bought for Brooklyn, sat against the far wall, its thick comforter also crisp and rumple-free. My computer sat on the white desk Granddad had put together for me when I was in middle school. Everything in its place. Walking into my room was different. Warmer. More welcoming than even my grandma’s kitchen.

I missed my friends already, so imagine my thrill when they showed up on my fire escape. I startled when a smiling face appeared out of the darkness. Then another. Glitch put a finger over his lips to shush me while Brooke gestured me forward.

I unlocked the giant window and Brooke and Glitch crawled inside. Holy cow, I loved having my own escape route.

Jared stood behind them. “Got room for one more?”

Narrowing my eyes on him, I said, “I thought that good-bye felt a little fake.”

He grinned and ducked inside. Even Cameron came in, cranky disposition and all.

My gang was back together. Life was good.

“We need a plan,” Brooke said, doing a 180 into Seriousville. “If the world is ending in three days, we’d best be figuring out how to stop it.”

I had to agree with her. “If you have any new light to shed on the subject, I’m all ears.”

“We have to figure out who this Dyson guy is,” Kenya said, clearly on top of it. “What do we know about him?”

Unfortunately, not a lot. Dyson was the only name we had to go on, the one the descendants of nephilim gave us when they’d come after me. They said Dyson had sent them, but they also indicated that he was the man who opened the gates in the first place.

It was so weird to think of Kenya as being on my side after all the crap she put me through. I still wasn’t quite over it. “You could have clued me in,” I said to her, my every word dripping with resentment, “when you pulled the switchblade on me.”

Brooklyn gasped. “You pulled a switchblade on her?”

A mirthful smirk flashed across Kenya’s face. “Like you’ve never thought about it.”

“Good point.”

I played along and looked at Brooke in astonishment. “You’ve thought about pulling a switchblade on me? What kind of a best friend would do that?”

“Not so much a switchblade,” she said, her forehead crinkling in thought. “But there was a paring knife close by one time when we were arguing. Illicit thoughts danced across my brain.”

“Brooke!”

“Only for a second,” she said in her own defense. “And they didn’t involve me actually stabbing you. It was more of a love poke.”

“Oh.”

“Hardly any blood.”

I hid a grin. “Okay, then.”

“So, this guy?” Kenya said, picking up where she left off. “The one who’s supposed to open the gates? What do we know about him?”

I riffled through my backpack and brought out the drawing once again. “This is pretty much it,” I said, handing it over.

She studied it. “Those nephilim that came for you, they said his name was Dyson?”

“Yes.”

We weren’t getting anywhere very fast. Keyna could study my drawing all day, and the only thing she’d come away with was eyestrain. I took it back from her. She glared.

Brooklyn scooted closer to me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unless you’re thinking that we’re all going to die screaming, then probably not.”

She patted my leg and gestured toward my drawing. “It’s an image.”

I looked down at it. “Yep.”

“No, it’s, you know, like a picture.”

Her meaning sank in. “Brooke, I drew this. I can’t go into something I’ve drawn.”

“So, you’ve tried?” she asked, her tone challenging.

“Well, no, but only because it’s ludicrous.”

“How do you know?” She drew her legs underneath her and leaned toward me. “How do you know until you try?”

I knew that look. There was no getting past this. Until I gave it a try, there’d be no living with her. “Fine,” I said, letting exasperation filter into my voice.