Death, Doom and Detention

I bristled at the use of my nickname and continued to inch away, holding out hope someone would show up. Someone with an Uzi and lots of ammo. How could it end now? Just when my grandfather Mac had convinced me I was the right girl for the job? What would happen with the war?

“And yet,” he said, shaking his head in astonishment, “here you are. Just goes to show, if you want to do something right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

I shook my head too, still unable to believe he could hurt Jared. “But Jared’s strong and really fast.”

He leaned toward me. “Yeah, well, so is a .50-caliber at a hundred yards.”

“You shot him?” I asked, appalled.

“Lot of good it did us.” He turned away and hopped back onto the pew. Stepping lightly onto the back, he walked it like one would a balance beam: one foot in front of the other, his arms out. He was like a kid. Like a really big kid who was psychotic and hard on the furniture.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What would have ripped another man to shreds simply wounded him, but he was out long enough for us to harvest his blood and do a small but effective binding spell to block out his light. We were hoping he would do the job for us, that he would take both you and the nephilim out.” He spun and maneuvered his way back along the pew. “But when the nephilim actually got the better of Azrael—the Azrael—with a freaking dart gun? Made me proud to be what I am.” He shook a finger at me. “We nephilim are not to be messed with, I can tell you that.”

“You’re controlling the kids from high school with Jared’s blood.”

“That I am.” He fished in his pocket and brought out a metal vial. Lifting it for me to get a better look, he said, “Tell you what: I’ll give you a taste right before I kill you.” The smile that crept across his face was the most evil thing I’d ever seen. He jumped down and kneeled close. “You’ll die happy, I promise you that.”

Even knowing how futile the effort would be, I scurried away from him and ran. If nothing else, it would make him laugh and give me valuable seconds to get away. My bare feet padded across the tiled church and I burst out the side door. I could hardly believe I’d made it that far, but when I hit the outside, a frigid blast of wind hit me and my feet crunched across freshly fallen snow. Feeling like I’d just dived into a lake of ice, I sucked in a sharp breath. It took about two seconds for me to feel the pain from the frozen ground, but adrenaline pushed me forward.

Though the sun had managed to make it over the horizon, it was still lazing low in the distance, making my trek through the trees dark and dangerous.

At first, I headed for the safety of home. Then I thought about Delores and probably Mr. Walsh as well. Maybe even Harlan. If I led this guy to my house, what would happen to Grandma and Granddad? I quickly turned south into the trees and toward the canyon. The ground, frozen and unforgiving, cut into my feet with every step, the snow excruciating, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins kept me running at full speed ahead.

I looked back but didn’t see Vincent. Did something happen? Did someone show up at the church? I stopped and waited, my lungs burning as I gasped for air. Then I saw a figure walking toward me. Casually, like he was taking a stroll in a garden. And he wore a smile on his face.

With feet numb now, I turned and ran up the mountainside some more. I had no idea why. I had no plan other than to lead Vincent away from my family and friends. Maybe I’d be enough. Maybe he’d stop with me.

He caught up to me a few minutes later. I had a feeling he appreciated my running so far. It would be harder for them to find my body. But I had to stop. I’d come to the canyon, a deep drop that ended below with a shallow river and lots of body-breaking rocks.

“There you are,” he said, laughing. “You little minx. Never figured you’d get this far.” He strolled a few feet from me as I looked down the canyon wall, frozen, shivering, and paralyzed with fear.

I wish I had gotten to know Mac better. I wish I could have seen Jared one more time. And thanked Cameron. And hugged my grandparents. And kissed Brooke and Glitch. Surely they knew how I felt about them. Surely they would understand.

“Thanks for running, by the way.” He brushed some snow off his shoulder. “Couldn’t kill a prophet in the church. Hallowed ground and all. Bad for the karma.”

I turned toward him, tears blurring my vision and freezing on my skin.

“By all rights, I should be able to just kill you right here and now. I’m a descendant. I’m stronger than most humans. Faster.”

I inched away from the edge of the canyon. If he was going to kill me, he was not going to do it by throwing me off a cliff. He would have to do it with his own hands. He would have to work for it.

He stepped forward and captured my jaw in a firm grip that had pain shooting through it. “I should just be able to break that scrawny neck of yours. To reach into your chest and rip out your heart.” He closed the distance between us until his mouth was almost touching mine. “And yet every single time we try to kill you, you survive for one reason or another. So this time, I brought help.”

He nodded over his shoulder, indicating the others who had come up behind him. Over a dozen boys, some no older than me, and others who looked well over twenty, stood scattered around us. All of them tall. All of them not quite right, disproportioned somehow. Their gazes were both threatening and blank. White fog drifted from their mouths like animals as they watched. But that wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was what they were carrying. Each held a weapon. A machete here. An axe there. Blades so sharp, the sunlight reflected off the edges.