Darker Days

Chapter Twenty-four

One day left…

The first thing I heard when I woke the next morning was screaming. Cursing, actually. Words that would make any self-respecting biker do a double take. It wasn’t a voice I recognized, so I assumed Mom’s Gluttony hunt had been successful. Two down. Four to go.

The next thing I realized was that I wasn’t in bed.

Sleepwalking again. It had to be the stress of everything going on. This time, I’d ended up cramped in the hollow under my desk. Uncurling myself, I pushed aside the chair and crawled free.

In my absence, Smokey had taken advantage of the empty bed. More accurately, my pillow. If I found a trail of demon dog slime anywhere near it, it was all over for him. I pulled up on the covers, shaking the bed and jarring him awake. He glared at me, barked twice, then disappeared in a puff of stinky black smoke. Off to do whatever it was he did all day, no doubt. I’d given up on trying to get rid of him. And he’d come in handy several times. Besides, I was kind of getting used to having him around.

Thankfully, it was Saturday, which meant no school to worry about. My mind drifted to last night and everything Lukas had said. Mom was the optimist, not me. No matter how I fought it, I knew he was right. We were out of options. I couldn’t force him to pawn Wrath off on someone else. He’d never be able to live with himself. It didn’t matter how we felt or how long we’d both waited to find each other. The outcome had been inevitable from the start. Lukas knew that from the moment he’d entered the office, even if I hadn’t.

As for what Simon said about help, with no real clue, we had no idea where to start looking and time was short. There was only one day left, and Mom had raised me to be realistic. I knew I wouldn’t give up—I was too stubborn for that—but in my heart, I didn’t believe we’d find the answer in time.

There were two ways I could approach this. I could do what I always did—turn away and distance myself. Losing Lukas would hurt no matter what because I was past the point of no return. I’d fallen, and I’d fallen hard. I wanted the chance to get to know everything about him. What foods he liked and what he hated. I wanted to learn about all his annoying habits and have the opportunity to complain about them to my friends. To walk hand in hand in public, out in the sunshine and free… But that would never happen, and getting further involved would only make things worse.

For me.

But Lukas had said going back would be easier this time since he’d have something good to hold onto. Serenity.

The other option was for me to do what was best for Lukas. I could make our time together—what little we had left—count. Mom didn’t want me involved with finding the other Sins? Fine. I had more important things to do. I could squeeze in as many good memories as time would allow and give Lukas something real to hold onto.

Being a jump-in-without-looking kind of girl, I decided to do just that.

I gathered some clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom. I could hear Mom moving around downstairs but was hoping to get in and out of the house without running into her.

When I finally made it down to the office, everything was quiet. It looked like I was still in the clear. I was careful not to let the door slam as I slipped outside and into the sunshine. Mom might be able to sleep through a nuclear war, but when awake, her hearing was like a dog on steroids.

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” I said, shuffling closer to the sidewalk. So much for getting out unnoticed. I wasn’t sure why I’d even tried. “Stuff to do. Cases to crack. The usual.”

Mom took a step forward. “Where you off to?”

“Um, I wanted to hit the craft supply store.”

She looked confused. “Craft supply? Since when have you taken up macramé?”

“I was thinking of making you a macaroni picture for the fridge. Maybe a cute little kitten. Or a werewolf?” I rolled my eyes and took another subtle step toward the sidewalk. “Not for me. For Lukas.”

And just like that, she was down the walk and by the car, keys in hand. “I’ll go with you.” She held out the keys and flashed a tentative smile. “Wanna drive?”

I didn’t have to think twice. Mom’s car, a white 2011 Mustang GT with black and red stripes, was normally off limits. I snatched the keys and slid into the smooth leather driver’s seat before she had second thoughts.

We drove the entire way in silence, Mom breaking it only as we pulled into the parking lot of Michaels.

I went right for the door handle, but Mom cleared her throat. “I never once regretted it. You need to know that.”

I didn’t ask her what she meant. I knew. Letting go of the handle, I sank back into the seat and twisted sideways. She looked sad.

“You’re my entire world, Jessie. You and your father. And I know it seems to you that what we go through might not be worth it, but I assure you, it is. Every minute I have with him—borrowed, stolen or otherwise—is worth all the moments I spend missing him.”

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She undid her seat belt and twisted to face me. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry to tell me what you think. But don’t be closed-minded, either. I made my choice, and I’ve never looked back.”

“I know you told me not to get attached…but I did.” I sucked in a deep breath. “You’ll say it’s only temporary and that my feelings will fade, but I’m not like that. I don’t know what it is I feel for him exactly, but I know I care, and I know that the thought of never seeing him again makes it hard to breathe.”

“Oh, honey. Your grandfather said exactly the same thing to me. I was younger than you when I met Damien, and I knew. From the moment I saw him, I knew. There has never been, and never will be, anyone else for me.”

I was dangerously close to crying.

She took my hand and squeezed. “Do I want that for you? Of course not. I want you to find someone normal and be blissfully happy. I want you to go to college and get married. I want you to have a real, conventional job that doesn’t involve mortal danger and bloodshed. I want you to be normal. But as you’ve pointed out—many times—you’re not normal. Maybe there will be someone else for you down the line—and maybe there won’t. But you can’t avoid love because you’re afraid to get hurt, and you can’t choose who you fall in love with. If Lukas is the right one, then I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

Another mom might have sugarcoated things. Told me it was just puppy love and assured me that one day my white knight would come along and sweep me away to make all my dreams come true. But that was total crap. And my mom had never lied to me. I was lucky that way.

Sort of…

We were in and out of the store in no time, which suited me fine. Mom was a little too fascinated by all the colors yarn came in. Fearless monster masher, my ass. In another life, she must’ve been a crocheting soccer mom. I had a mental image of her surrounded by knitted tea cozies. Or—even more twisted—knitted knife cozies.

“An artist?” Mom held out the plastic bag containing an oversized sketchpad, some colored pencils, and a set of watercolor paints. “I’m warning you now. If I catch him painting you nude, he’s a dead man.”

“Oh, that’s sick.” I tossed her the keys as I neared the Mustang. She’d flinched the entire way over. Every time I turned too sharp or went a mile over the speed limit. To save her sanity—and my nerves—I’d let her drive home.

“Don’t move,” a raspy voice breathed in my ear. I was about to whirl around when something hard jammed into the small of my back.

I held up my hands, the plastic bag with Lukas’ supplies dangling back and forth. “Not moving.”

On the other side of the car, Mom froze. “That’s my daughter.” Her voice was even. To anyone listening, it might have sounded like she was ordering coffee or chatting up an old friend. Me? I could hear the barely contained venom.

“Step back,” the voice snapped. “Move into those bushes.”

Mom nodded, putting her own hands up so he could see them. “I’m moving to those bushes.”

Once in the shadow of the trees, the man said, “That’s a sweet ride. I deserve it. Keys. Give me your keys and your wallet.”

“It’s fine. I’m just going to set them down.” Arm extended, the keys dangled from her thumb. Bending slightly, she repeated, “I’m just going to put…them…”

Eye’s locked on mine, she gave the slightest nod. “Down.”

I dropped to my knees as she hummed the keys at the man’s face. He stumbled back, surprised, and I sprinted forward. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it far. Something latched around my ankle, wrenching my feet and taking me down hard. The air expelling from my lungs in a single, violent whoosh as the man’s shadow loomed overhead. Fumbling with my pocket, I groped for the butterfly knife hidden there. It was one of the things I never left home without. But just as my fingertips brushed the cool, comforting iron, I was hauled to my feet.

The next few seconds were kind of fuzzy. Misty watercolor memories, my ass. They were more like hazy black fog. There was a tickle in the back of my throat and a loud bang that resonated in every one of my limbs. A swimming head and burning eyes, combined with an all over ache, made me feel slightly ill. There might have been screaming, too—I couldn’t be sure.

The first thing I thought was, hell in a hailstorm, he’d shot me. Me. I’d survived things that would make Rambo piss himself, and some normal dude with a gun comes along and blows me away? Where the heck’s the poetry in that?

But he didn’t shoot me. The gun wasn’t even in his hand anymore.

It was in mine.

But that wasn’t all. Not only was the gun not where it started out—neither was I. One minute I was staring down the blackhead-covered nose of a whack job with a gun and bad breath, the next I was standing behind said whack job. With his gun.

I was confused. No way had I moved that fast. Plus, I was pretty sure that was something I’d remember doing. It reminded me of the way Dad traveled—shadowing—but half-demon, half-human offspring couldn’t do that.

But first things first. The man spun around, just as surprised about what had happened as I was. I used it to my advantage. One well placed, denim-clad knee to his hot box, then, as he crumbled, a good one to his head. He went down like a sack of quartz.

“What—” Mom started, then whirled around as, behind us, someone gasped.

I followed her gaze, and off to the side, a few cars down, was a small girl wearing shiny Mary Janes and snow-white knee-high socks. The same small girl Meredith had introduced me to back at the school.

Ava—AKA Greed.