Angelfire
Page 12
He watched me for a few moments. His jaw was clenched tightly and he sucked in his upper lip in frustration. "It takes a while for your memory to return sometimes, but it's never been this bad before. I know you're having the nightmares. You've always had them when you're ready to face who you are. Of course, the last time I saw you--the real you--wel , that was over forty years ago. You've been gone for twentyeight years."
My throat tightened.
He flashed me that astonishing smile, only this time it held something different, something secretive. "Happy birthday, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't say that last night, but I have a gift for you. You passed out before I could give it to you."
Wil pul ed something out of his pocket and held out his hand. On his palm lay a pendant shaped like a pair of white wings hanging on a gold chain. The necklace was gorgeous, ethereal, the wings so brightly white that they shimmered and appeared to glow in the light. When I blinked, the glow was gone.
"What is this?" I asked, marveling at the winged pendant.
"It's always been yours," he said, lifting my hand and placing the necklace on my palm. "Since before I knew you. It never tarnishes or fades. Always the same. Always permanent even when fate takes so much away." He gently closed my fingers around the pendant, his warm hands lingering a moment too long. "I'l talk to you soon."
Wil turned and left. I opened my hand to stare at the beautiful necklace. Brushing my fingers across the wings, I couldn't decide what it was made of. The pendant's surface was smooth and luminous, as if it were made of mother-ofpearl, but something more precious than that. Its beauty lul ed me, and I slipped into a strange, nostalgic trance; and the whispers of memories that couldn't have belonged to me surfaced in my mind. Distant images of Wil 's face, of reapers lurking in the dark, of me running through al eys and forests, of the necklace in my hands. Things I shouldn't have remembered but did.
I shook my head and stuffed the necklace into my purse. Over forty years? I fel back against the lockers tiredly and rubbed my face with both hands. Why wouldn't Wil just leave me alone? He seemed to firmly believe that I was some kind of superhero, and that had to be the craziest thing I'd ever heard. As if that wasn't enough, he said he'd talk to me soon. Although I knew little about Wil , I knew for a fact that was a promise.
I went back to lunch with my friends and tried to forget about him, but I couldn't. Fourth period came and went without incident other than Kate distracting me from the discussion of the week's assignment. Something about dress-shopping plans for Saturday's party outfits. Thankful y, that was the only other class I had with Kate, so I was able to concentrate a little more during my other classes. Fifth period European history was mildly more interesting because I actual y liked history. It was something I got easily, unlike economics.
As I sat at my table, ignoring my tablemate who absently picked at his face, I found myself thinking about the night before. I tried to remember the horrible creature Wil had cal ed a reaper. The snarling, dead-eyed monster stared out at me from my memories, its enormous talons digging into the earth, ready to leap. Why would I dream about such awful things? I rubbed my arms, recal ing the sensation of its fur brushing against my skin. Never had any nightmare felt so real, in my mind, on my skin, and in my heart.
I decided to imagine for a moment that Wil had been tel ing the truth. If I were indeed what he claimed, the Preliator, then those monsters, the reapers, were real. What did he mean when he said I'd been gone twenty-eight years?
I was so confused. Just trying to make sense of Wil 's claims was enough to drive me crazy.
I couldn't get past Wil 's surprise that I couldn't remember anything. Of course, nothing happened--it was just a bad dream, and Wil was just nuts. But how could he know so many details from my nightmare? He had even mentioned the "grim" again, whatever that was. And his tattoos . . . I had not seen those when I met him the previous afternoon. The first time I saw them was in my dream.
Wil had touched me in my dream the night before and I suddenly had become someone different, someone powerful, someone very frightening. That scared me, but I was stil drawn to the idea. I pul ed the winged necklace out of my purse and studied the delicate edges and intricate etchings. Remember. I thought hard, shutting my eyes tightly and closing my fingers around my pendant. Remember, remember. What was I supposed to remember? I stared down at my history notes. If only my own history were written on those pages instead of Charlemagne's.
The events from the night before replayed over and over in my mind like a horror movie: the reaper stalking through the dark, charging at me as I swung those strange, flaming, sickle-shaped swords. So much blood . . .
And then my eyes went out of focus. I squeezed them shut and opened them again, turning my face away from the harsh light of the classroom to stare at the floor. The temperature plummeted, and I shivered and rubbed my arms. The floor blurred and my desk and al the faces around me vanished, leaving me alone in the dark and kneeling on a snowy ground. I stood and looked around me, and I saw the dense, shadowed forest closing in on me and the icy, unyielding wind on my face.
My eyes fell to the trail of blood dotting the snow in front of me as I moved through the Grim. I knew the reaper couldn't be far. He had taken nearly a hundred lives already in the poor region of Le Gevaudan in southern France. The dragoons sent by the French king had found nothing and left an endless trail of innocent wolf carcasses in their wake. The lupine reaper was smarter and hungrier than any of them, and that made him far more dangerous. They couldn't hunt something that they couldn't see and that was smarter than them.
My throat tightened.
He flashed me that astonishing smile, only this time it held something different, something secretive. "Happy birthday, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't say that last night, but I have a gift for you. You passed out before I could give it to you."
Wil pul ed something out of his pocket and held out his hand. On his palm lay a pendant shaped like a pair of white wings hanging on a gold chain. The necklace was gorgeous, ethereal, the wings so brightly white that they shimmered and appeared to glow in the light. When I blinked, the glow was gone.
"What is this?" I asked, marveling at the winged pendant.
"It's always been yours," he said, lifting my hand and placing the necklace on my palm. "Since before I knew you. It never tarnishes or fades. Always the same. Always permanent even when fate takes so much away." He gently closed my fingers around the pendant, his warm hands lingering a moment too long. "I'l talk to you soon."
Wil turned and left. I opened my hand to stare at the beautiful necklace. Brushing my fingers across the wings, I couldn't decide what it was made of. The pendant's surface was smooth and luminous, as if it were made of mother-ofpearl, but something more precious than that. Its beauty lul ed me, and I slipped into a strange, nostalgic trance; and the whispers of memories that couldn't have belonged to me surfaced in my mind. Distant images of Wil 's face, of reapers lurking in the dark, of me running through al eys and forests, of the necklace in my hands. Things I shouldn't have remembered but did.
I shook my head and stuffed the necklace into my purse. Over forty years? I fel back against the lockers tiredly and rubbed my face with both hands. Why wouldn't Wil just leave me alone? He seemed to firmly believe that I was some kind of superhero, and that had to be the craziest thing I'd ever heard. As if that wasn't enough, he said he'd talk to me soon. Although I knew little about Wil , I knew for a fact that was a promise.
I went back to lunch with my friends and tried to forget about him, but I couldn't. Fourth period came and went without incident other than Kate distracting me from the discussion of the week's assignment. Something about dress-shopping plans for Saturday's party outfits. Thankful y, that was the only other class I had with Kate, so I was able to concentrate a little more during my other classes. Fifth period European history was mildly more interesting because I actual y liked history. It was something I got easily, unlike economics.
As I sat at my table, ignoring my tablemate who absently picked at his face, I found myself thinking about the night before. I tried to remember the horrible creature Wil had cal ed a reaper. The snarling, dead-eyed monster stared out at me from my memories, its enormous talons digging into the earth, ready to leap. Why would I dream about such awful things? I rubbed my arms, recal ing the sensation of its fur brushing against my skin. Never had any nightmare felt so real, in my mind, on my skin, and in my heart.
I decided to imagine for a moment that Wil had been tel ing the truth. If I were indeed what he claimed, the Preliator, then those monsters, the reapers, were real. What did he mean when he said I'd been gone twenty-eight years?
I was so confused. Just trying to make sense of Wil 's claims was enough to drive me crazy.
I couldn't get past Wil 's surprise that I couldn't remember anything. Of course, nothing happened--it was just a bad dream, and Wil was just nuts. But how could he know so many details from my nightmare? He had even mentioned the "grim" again, whatever that was. And his tattoos . . . I had not seen those when I met him the previous afternoon. The first time I saw them was in my dream.
Wil had touched me in my dream the night before and I suddenly had become someone different, someone powerful, someone very frightening. That scared me, but I was stil drawn to the idea. I pul ed the winged necklace out of my purse and studied the delicate edges and intricate etchings. Remember. I thought hard, shutting my eyes tightly and closing my fingers around my pendant. Remember, remember. What was I supposed to remember? I stared down at my history notes. If only my own history were written on those pages instead of Charlemagne's.
The events from the night before replayed over and over in my mind like a horror movie: the reaper stalking through the dark, charging at me as I swung those strange, flaming, sickle-shaped swords. So much blood . . .
And then my eyes went out of focus. I squeezed them shut and opened them again, turning my face away from the harsh light of the classroom to stare at the floor. The temperature plummeted, and I shivered and rubbed my arms. The floor blurred and my desk and al the faces around me vanished, leaving me alone in the dark and kneeling on a snowy ground. I stood and looked around me, and I saw the dense, shadowed forest closing in on me and the icy, unyielding wind on my face.
My eyes fell to the trail of blood dotting the snow in front of me as I moved through the Grim. I knew the reaper couldn't be far. He had taken nearly a hundred lives already in the poor region of Le Gevaudan in southern France. The dragoons sent by the French king had found nothing and left an endless trail of innocent wolf carcasses in their wake. The lupine reaper was smarter and hungrier than any of them, and that made him far more dangerous. They couldn't hunt something that they couldn't see and that was smarter than them.
