Death, Doom, and Detention

THE VAGUENESS OF TRUTH

But what were my parents talking about? What truth?

“Mm-hm,” I said to Brooke, pretending to listen. I closed my eyes, placed my fingertips on the picture again, and concentrated. But just as before with Brooke’s, nothing happened. Maybe one shot was all I got. No replays or do-overs. I tried again and again, but nothing. Then I did as before with Cameron’s picture. I took a deep breath and relaxed. A coolness washed over me, starting from my fingertips and fanning out over my entire body. I felt the molecules of my existence fade, become translucent like watercolors. Then fog. Time slipped out from under my feet. The air rippled around me. And the curtain appeared. I reached forward. Pulled. And went through.

Dad sat on the side of the bed and leaned over me to wiggle my chin. My mom cooed and swayed, just barely, back and forth. Beautiful and strangely elegant, like a princess. This time I tried to see more. To extract more from every word, every movement.

“Just like my father’s.”

The moment Dad said it, a sadness washed over my mom’s face. She looked almost pleadingly at Dad.

“We should tell her when she’s older.”

He looked down, shook his head in regret before refocusing on Mom. “It’s not our secret to tell.

Besides, what good would it do her to know the truth? To know that he’s alive?”

Mom bowed her head.

“I think I have this thing figured out.” It sounded like Granddad, but I couldn’t be certain.

Their dispositions changed as they smiled for the camera. After a quick flash, I was back in my room.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course,” I said before diving in again.

I did this over and over, trying to discover something new, a clue, a hint of whom they were talking about. I found that I could manipulate my position. One time I was standing directly in front of them, and the next, I was standing by the window. It took some practice to get there. When I could control my thoughts more, when I could move without being thrown out of the picture, I walked to the window and turned around. Grandma stood pointing at something on the camera as Granddad, younger and leaner, shooed her away.

“We should tell her when she’s older,” Mom said, and my grandparents exchanged glances—so quickly, I almost missed it.

“It’s not our secret to tell. Besides, what good would it do her to know the truth? To know that he’s alive?”

Granddad bit down, clearly bothered by something before saying, “I think I have this thing figured out.”

He raised the camera, and a bright light suffused the area. Then once again, I was back in my room.

They knew. Whatever it was, whatever secret my parents were talking about, my grandparents knew as well. And Mom referred to the secret, something they should tell me, right after Dad had mentioned his father. My dad’s parents died before I was born. Is that what they were talking about? Their deaths? Or maybe it was how they’d died. Maybe they didn’t want me to know. But they’d said he was alive. I bolted upright.

“Brooke,” I whispered, not really sure why.

“Lorelei,” she said in the same tone, strolling out of the bathroom in full pajama mode.

I grabbed my pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. “You will not believe what happened.”

“Let me guess: You went into a picture of your parents when you were born?”

Peeking around the doorjamb, I said, “How did you know that?”

She held up the picture.

“Oh, right.” I went back to changing. “And I can do it over and over.”

“The same picture?”

“The same picture.”

She hopped up and came into the bathroom to sit on the closed toilet. “Do you know what this means?”

she asked, her voice filled with fascination.

“Of course.” Then I thought about it. “Well, okay, no. Not really.”

After blinking in thought a few times, she said, “Yeah, me neither.”

“They had a secret.” I pulled my top over my head, then continued. “My parents.”

“And you learned this by touching that picture?”

“Yes. They were talking about it. About how someone was alive but they couldn’t tell me who.” I stopped and gazed at her point-blank. “I think my paternal grandfather is alive.”

Brooke’s jaw dropped open. “I thought he was dead.”

“So did I,” I said. “That’s what they told me, but they were talking about my chin and how it looked like my dad’s father’s and then—”

“I love this place.” Glitch walked in, his mouth clearly full.

Brooklyn stepped out of the bathroom. “Glitch, you need to knock.”

“Hurry, close the door,” I said, rushing past him to do that very thing.

He had a slice of pizza in each hand. “Why? What’s going on?”

Brooklyn glanced at me, her eyes pleading. “Can I tell him? Please? I’ll do your algebra homework.”

With a snort, I said, “I would let you kick him in the face for a free homework night. Deal.”

“In the face?” he asked, his words muffled.

“Lor has a new talent,” Brooke said.

He swallowed hard, then eyed me. “Does it involve pole dancing?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “Pay attention. Oh, my gosh, that smells so good.”

“Fine,” I said. “Go get a piece. We’ll wait.”

“No way.” She crossed her arms and refused to budge. “You’ll tell him.”

“I won’t tell him.”

“Yes, you will. I’ll just take one of his.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, backing away as though facing a firing squad.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Brooke answered it, and Cameron was standing on the other side.

“Hey,” Brooklyn said, holding the door close to let him know he was not welcome at that moment in time. “So, are you still checking the perimeter?”

He narrowed his eyes and looked past her. “I guess. Just checking in. Is everything okay?”

“Wonderful.”

When she continued to stare at him, smiling for effect, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be outside. Close those blinds.”

“You got it.” She shut the door, rushed over to close the blinds, then hurried back to the door before turning back to me with an accusing scowl on her face. Like I would risk getting my homework done for free.

“What?” Glitch asked.

“Nothing. Keep her busy until I come back. And don’t let her say anything. Anything! ”

“I cannot believe you don’t trust me,” I said, but she was gone. So I called out to her. “Bring me a piece!”

Glitch sat at my desk, then yelled, “And bring me an orange soda!”

“Me too!”

I scooted onto the edge of my bed. “It’s like having room service.”

“So, you gonna tell me or what?”

I looked over at Glitch. He was holding a slice of pizza in one hand and checking his e-mail on my computer with the other.

“Brooke would kill me.”

He tossed an evil smirk over his shoulder.

Before I could say anything, Brooklyn burst through the door, a pile of pizza in one hand and two orange sodas balanced in the other. “Did she say anything?” she asked.

“My god, that was fast.”

Glitch’s mouth formed a straight line of disappointment. “No, she didn’t.”

“Perfect.” She handed me a slice and sat down to take a bite. After putting her pizza back onto her plate and wiping her hands on her napkin, she focused all her might on Boy Wonder.

“Okay, Glitch, pay attention.”

He turned from the computer and took another bite. “’Kay.”

Brooke grinned in anticipation and said, “Lor can go into pictures.”

He conjured a hesitant smile. “That’s great, Lor. I didn’t even know you wanted to act.”

“What? No, not those kinds of pictures.” She waved at him, as though erasing his words. “Like, pictures. You know, photos.”

“So you want to be a photographer?” he asked after taking a sip of soda.

With all the flair and drama of a silent screen actress, Brooke plastered her hands over her eyes and threw herself across her bed.

“A model?” he tried. “Aren’t you kind of short?”

“For the love of pepperoni, make him shut up.”

I laughed at her antics. “Brooke, you have to admit, it sounds a little far-fetched. You’re going to have to explain,” I said before taking a bite.

“Fine.” She sat up and tried again. “Okay, Lor has the ability to touch a picture and go into it. She can see what was happening when that picture was taken. She can enter the scene, look around, hear what people said.”

“But once the camera flashes,” I added, “I’m thrown out. I can see only the events that led up to that image in the photo.”

Glitch sat staring at us. We let him take it all in. Absorb. “That’s kind of cool,” he said, his voice uncertain.

“Kind of cool?” Brooke asked. “It’s the coolest thing ever. Well, okay, besides Jared being the Angel of Death. That was a tad cooler.”

I glanced at her and we shrugged in agreement.

“No, it is,” he said. “But what does it mean?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Brooke said.

“Have you told your grandparents?”

“No, not yet. It’s all still in test phase. As soon as I know more, I’ll go to them.”

“You said you’d go to them tomorrow,” Brooke said, accusing me with her eyes. “You pinkie swore.”

“I will.”

“Lor—”

“Brooke—”

“Can we get back to the picture thing?” Glitch asked, still absorbing. Wet newspaper was more absorbent.

So we spent the next hour explaining everything and going into a couple of pictures to prove I could do it. Everyone was a skeptic. But Brooke brought out some pictures from our grade school days. I went into a couple and recounted what happened in each. I was getting better. I could manipulate my position, could see the environment outside the frame of the picture.

Glitch didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure why this was any harder to believe than my having visions or Jared being the Angel of Death, but for some reason, he seemed to be having a difficult time with it.

Then he asked, “What about digital images? You know, like a picture on a phone or a computer?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. Let’s try it.”

He brought up a picture on his cell phone of him riding his dirt bike in the mountains.

“Who took this?” I asked.

He grinned. “You tell me.”

With a grimace of doubt, I touched the screen and concentrated. And just as before, I drifted forward, into the picture, into the scene, a curtain of pixels parting to let me inside. The shrill sound of his motorcycle as he kicked up an unnecessary amount of dirt hit me like a cannon blast. I covered my ears.

Or at least, I felt like I covered my ears. No one else was around. Before I got cast out of the photo, I stepped to the side to see who was taking the picture, but his phone sat on a log. He’d propped it up and set the timer.

A split second before the picture snapped, I looked past the camera and saw his dad standing in the distance.

The light flashed bright and I was back. I blinked at him. “You took that picture. And really, must you stir up that much dirt?”

His smile faded.

“Wait, how did he take the—? Oh,” Brooke said. “Your phone has a timer?” She took it from me and started punching buttons.

“Yeah, but how did you know?”

“We just told you,” she said. Then she gaped at me. “He never listens.”

He stared at her. “No, I know what you said, but … that’s amazing.”

“Know what’s more amazing?” I asked, offering him a knowing grin. “Your dad was watching you that day.”

His mouth fell open even farther. “How did you—?” He caught himself. “You’re right. He came out to watch me. I didn’t even know it until later.” Leaning back in the chair, he furrowed his brows in thought.

“But what does this mean?”

I breathed out a heavy sigh. “That’s just it. What does any of it mean? I can touch someone and get a vision. I can look at a picture and see what was happening. But honestly, in the grand scheme of things, what good do those things do anyone?”

“Lor, you’re selling yourself short.” Brooke almost glared at me. “As usual.”

“I’m not selling anything. It was sold to me. I had no choice.”

After whining a bit longer, I told Glitch about the conversation my parents had when I was born.

“And you think they were referring to your grandfather from your dad’s side?” he asked.

“Who else? My dad said, ‘She has my father’s chin’ seconds before my mom said they should tell me when I was older. It has to be him. Which leads me to Plan A.”

“Oh, crap,” Glitch said. “Whenever you guys start lettering your plans, trouble always follows. And by the time we get to Plan E—because every single plan before that has failed—all hell breaks loose.”

“Does that mean you’re out?” Brooke asked, a knowing expression on her face.

He snorted. “No way. I’m so in, it’s unreal. I just wanted you to know that if we make it to Plan E, I’m running. Far away. And possibly changing my name.”

We laughed. “It’s not that bad,” I said to ease his mind. “I just know where the records are stored. As soon as my grandparents go to bed, I’m going to sneak down to the basement and get all the information I can on him. Surely, they’ll have something.”

“Then we can do an Internet search,” Glitch said. “I can start now, actually. What was his name?”

“I only know his nickname, what they called him.”

“Oh.” Brooke looked disappointed. “That probably won’t help.”

“You never know.” He turned the chair to face my computer again. “Okay, give it to me.”

“Um, they called him Mac.”

They both looked at me. “Seriously?” she said. “A guy with the last name of McAlister and they called him Mac? How bizarre.”

“Well, I can at least use that to do a search. Do you know anything else? Like where he was from?”

“I just know that he was from the Northeast. Possibly Maine. But they moved to New Mexico long before my dad met my mother.”

“Okay, well, keep thinking.”

Brooklyn checked the clock. “What time do your grandparents go to bed?”

“Nine or ten, depending. We still have hours.” Then I grinned at her. “Plenty of time for you to do my algebra homework.”

“I’ve already done the assignment. Why don’t you just copy mine?”

With a gasp I said, “That’s cheating. Besides, that would require work on my part.” I handed her the homework sheet and a pencil. “Remember, try to write like me.”

“Lorelei?”

I turned toward the voice and tried to swim to the surface of sleep.

“Lorelei, wake up.”

It was Cameron. I recognized his voice and the not-so-gentle nudging. Was I late for school?

I pried open an eye. It was still dark outside, and the wind and rain had yet to let up. Surely there were special contingencies set aside for such mornings.

Then I bolted upright. “I fell asleep!” I said, my gaze darting about the room. Brooke was asleep too, and Glitch was sprawled on the floor, his hand resting on a pillow where his head should have been. Poor guy. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. We had a Plan A.”

One corner of Cameron’s mouth lifted. “Your plans don’t always work out for the best. It’s probably good that you fell asleep.”

The last thing I remembered was Brooke demonstrating the quadratic formula as she did my homework. Which would explain the sudden onset of narcolepsy.

“Lorelei,” he said, his expression grave, “are you coherent?”

After rubbing my eyes, I gave a weak, “Kind of. Are we late?”

“No.” He took hold of my chin until I looked at him.

My brows rose in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s back.”

No further explanation was needed. I scrambled out of bed and hustled into my robe as Cameron went to nudge Brooklyn awake. No time for nudges.

“Brooke!” I yelled, causing Cameron to jump a solid foot. I felt bad about that.

“Do you want to wake up your grandparents?” he asked.

He had a point. Before I could even question where Jared was, I kicked Glitch to wake him and tore out of the room, but Cameron grabbed hold of my arm.

“He’s outside.”

“He’s outside? In this weather?”

He nodded toward my window and I rushed to open it, hurtling Glitch in the process as he stirred to consciousness. Jared lay on the ground at the bottom of the metal fire escape, unconscious.

“Oh, my gosh,” I said, climbing out. A bitterly cold rain slashed across my face as I hurried down and knelt beside him, but nothing compared to the alarm I felt at seeing Jared unconscious.

“Lor, what are you doing?” Brooke called to me, but she quickly shushed and ducked back in for something other than pajamas to wear.

Cameron jumped down and landed beside me as I examined Jared. Blood streaked down one side of his head and from his swollen mouth.

“Hurry up, Blue-Spider,” Cameron said, trying to be quiet but shout loud enough to be heard over the pelting rain. I realized Glitch was right behind him, still in his jeans and sweatshirt.

In one smooth movement, Cameron scooped Jared up and draped him over his shoulder. Jared couldn’t have been light.

“Get the door,” Cameron said, and I realized he was taking Jared to his apartment.

Glitch ran ahead of Cameron and jumped to get the hidden key from over the door. He unlocked it and held it wide enough for Cameron to get through with his charge.

“We need medical supplies,” Cameron said, reaching out to turn on a light.

Just then, Jared started to stir. “What are you doing?” he asked, his words slurred and groggy. Then, in a flash of strength that my mind couldn’t quite register, he twisted up and off Cameron. One minute

Cameron was carrying him to his kitchen; the next Cameron was underneath him in a maneuver that left me breathless.

He lodged a knee under Cameron’s chin, his face wary and full of rage.

“Jared!” I rushed forward, and before I had time to blink, a large hand shot out and encircled my throat. I felt the earth move. Saw the room blur. And in the next instant, I was on the floor right next to

Cameron. Fighting for air. Fighting to stay conscious.

Cameron wrapped his legs around Jared’s chest and threw him off balance long enough to get out from under him. “It’s just us,” he said, his voice harsh.

I gasped for air as Jared scurried back onto all fours, crouched, and eyed us like we were his next meal.

Cameron dragged me behind him, then held up his free hand in surrender. “It’s just us.”

Jared fought for balance, then pressed a palm to his head wound. Blood trickled between his fingers as he doubled over and growled in pain.

I wanted to go to him, but Cameron kept his iron grip on my arm.

Brooke crept in behind me and wrapped an arm in mine, keeping a wary eye on our opponent.

After a moment, Jared blinked back to us. He took his time, measuring us with his feral stare. “What happened?” he asked at last just as his gaze landed on me.

“We don’t know,” I said. “You disappeared. You’ve been gone for three days.”

The barest hint of surprise flashed across his face before he caught himself.

“Are you with us?” Cameron asked, waving a hand in front of his face. When Jared scowled, Cameron flipped him off and asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Half an hour later, Jared sat at what passed for a kitchen table, a blue blanket from our linen closet draped over him as Cameron sewed up a huge gash in his arm. An array of medical supplies sat splayed across his countertop along with bloodied gauze and towels. Towels I would have to wash before Grandma saw them.

Jared’s hair, soaking wet, hung in clumps over his bruised brow. The wound on his head that had been bleeding profusely was now stitched and on the mend. It ran along his hairline, and I could hardly see it now.

Brooklyn and Glitch had gone to change out of their soaking-wet clothes, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. What if Jared disappeared again while I was gone? So instead, I stood, assisting Cameron with shivering hands.

Jared raised his lashes and locked his gaze with mine, unblinking even when a drop of rain-soaked blood dripped from the tips onto his cheek. The rich browns of his eyes seemed darker than usual as he stared, more intense.

He reached out and touched my neck, his hands warm and soothing. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“I’m okay. I was just worried about you.”

Before he could say anything, Brooklyn tapped my shoulder. “I brought you some clothes,” she said, wincing as Cameron tugged on a stitch to tighten it.

Jared also had a huge gash on his arm that required sutures. My knees almost gave beneath my weight every time Cameron stabbed. Tugged. Tied. Clearly nursing was not in my future.

“They were waiting for me,” he said without releasing my gaze. “A group of them.”

“Who?” Cameron asked. At his nod, I took the scissors and cut the suture. “A group of what?”

Brooke took the other seat at the tiny table as Glitch scooted onto the counter.

“Unless it was a group of charging water buffalo, I’m stumped,” Glitch said. “Because anyone, even a group, bringing you down is a little hard to believe.”

Jared finally looked back at Cameron, his expression grave. “They were descendants.”

Cameron stilled. I wondered why. What were descendants? And whom were they descended from?

“I didn’t think there were any left,” he said, voice thick with apprehension.

“There are quite a few, actually, but the real question is, why would they attack me?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Cameron said as he plunged the needle again.

The world spun. Brooke took the scissors and sat me in the chair, taking over. I couldn’t help but notice Glitch fold his arms at his chest and glare when she started helping Cameron, but when Jared took my hand into his, a movement that both shocked and pleased me, I lost interest in his annoyance. After weeks of avoidance on Jared’s part, the warmth was nice.

“I wish I could remember,” Jared said. “I can’t. Everything after that initial attack is a blank. I was fighting—and winning, I might add—then I was here.”

“Glitch-head’s right,” Cameron said, tying off another stitch. “Even a hundred descendants would have trouble bringing you down. How did they take you?”

Jared turned his attention toward him so slowly, so methodically, I was certain he did it to goad

Cameron. “Why?” he asked at last, planting a humorous and, if I didn’t know any better, taunting gaze on him. “Looking for pointers?”

“It’s just a little hard to believe.”

“So is reality TV, but there you have it.”

The tension between them simmered, thickened, blanketed the room in silence.

“What are descendants?” I asked, breaking it. They had been getting along famously—or, well, semi-

famously. Now was not the time for tempers to flare. When they were at odds, architectural structures paid the price. “And why on earth would they attack you? Surely they don’t know what you are.”

After a long moment, Jared tore his gaze away from Cameron. “They know exactly what I am. And they are descended from the original nephilim that were created centuries past.”

“They’re nephilim?” Brooklyn asked, her voice soft with astonishment. “Like Cameron?” She snipped the last suture and cleaned off Jared’s wound with peroxide.

“They’re diluted versions of Cameron,” Jared explained, “descended from the original nephilim, so there’s a lot of pure human mixed in. It’s like taking a single drop of food coloring and adding a gallon of milk. The food coloring will alter the color slightly, but for the most part it’s still milk. There simply can’t be that much seraph DNA left in the breed.”

“There’s not,” Cameron said. “I would be able to tell if there were. I would be able to feel them.”

Brooke smoothed antibiotic ointment onto the stitches and covered them with a bandage.

“In an effort to contain the purity of the race,” Jared continued, examining her handiwork, “there has been a lot of inbreeding as well. From what I understand, they’re not right in the head.”

“Then you are related,” Glitch said to Cameron.

“Their attacking Jared proves they have a screw loose,” Brooke said, ignoring Glitch. “What did they hope to gain?”

“To leave Lorelei vulnerable,” Cameron said.

“Me?” I asked, alarmed. “What do I have to do with the descendants?”

“I have no idea what they would want with you, unfortunately,” Jared said.

Cameron raked a hard gaze over him. “They tracked you here. When you showed up a few weeks ago, they tracked you.”

“Or they were invited.” Jared’s accusation was as smooth as caramel. He settled a withering stare on him. “You’re the hybrid. You’re like them.”

“I’ve never even seen one of those things.” Cameron bit down in an effort to control his temper. “I didn’t even know for sure they existed until you showed up.”

“And yet here they are.”

“And here you are,” Cameron volleyed, baiting the only one in the room who could kill us all with a thought. He was looking at Jared like he’d never seen him before, like he was different somehow.

After a moment, Jared leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face with his fingertips. “They must have an agenda. They attacked me for a reason.” He looked at me, his brows drawn together. “They have to be after you. It’s the only explanation.”

I really hated to hear that.

“I still think we should get you to the hospital,” I said, switching the focus off me. “You could have a concussion.”

“Hey,” Cameron said, clearly offended. “I got this.”

The corner of Jared’s mouth lifted into a lazy grin. He let his gaze drop to my robe. I pulled it tighter, smoothed my hair down, and tried not to concentrate too hard on the dark sparkle in Jared’s eyes, the powerful set of his shoulders. Even injured, he exuded authority, his supremacy so absolute, so pure. “I know this is going to sound dumb, but are you sure you’re okay?” I was still floored with the attention he was giving me. It was like the old Jared was back. Scraped up. Bruised. Covered in wounds. Yep, it was definitely the old Jared.

His grin widened, and I realized his gaze was glassy, as though he had a fever. “I’m fine. I’ll be ready for school in a couple of hours.”

“School?” I asked, stunned. “I think you can miss a day or two, considering the extent of your injuries.”

“She’s right. You should stay home today,” Cameron said.

I brightened. “See.”

“You’re no good to us injured,” Cameron continued.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said.

Jared looked at Cameron. “We need to figure out what’s going on.”

Cameron nodded. “There’s a new kid at school you need to meet.”

Brooke gasped. “You think he’s one of them? A descendant?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said, his expression grave.