"What is The Light saying?" my uncle ground out.
I was surprised at his anger. I'd only seen him lose his cool once and that was when I first joined them. He and Haniel and had gotten into it in his office. I didn't know exactly what they fought over, but I had a rough idea it involved me.
"Mark, you know as well as I do that The Light doesn't just divulge information, even if you can get in to see him," Krista said gently.
My ears perked up at her words. I'd been asking them for months what heaven was like, but they always put off my questions, saying I would have to wait until I got there to see for myself. I thought their whole secretive attitude was pretty lame, but I eventually let the subject drop.
"Krista is correct. I have not been granted an audience with The Light."
"What do we do?" Krista asked.
"We enlist guard duty around Jordyn at all times," Mark answered gravely.
"What?" I asked, sitting up abruptly, no longer able to feign sleep.
"It's the only way, Jordyn," Krista soothed, scrubbing the dried blood off my leg.
"I can do that," I said, snatching the rag from her hand. "I don't need guard duty either," I said, scrubbing hard at my leg.
"Jordyn, it's our job to keep you safe," Mark said as he sat down on his chair.
"That's ridiculous. We all know I'm the best fighter we have," I said, still rubbing my leg with the rag.
"That may be, but this boy seems to have a power over you that renders your gifts useless," Krista said, grabbing the rag from me before I rubbed off a layer of skin.
"You guys act like he's out to get me or something," I said, swinging my legs around so I could sit back against the cushions. The scrapes on my knees protested as I bent my legs to prop them up on the coffee table in front of me.
"He must have a hidden motive," Mark said, meeting Haniel's eyes, who gave a nod of approval.
"Because God forbid he might actually be interested in me," I said sarcastically, rising to my feet. "Has it crossed anyone's mind that maybe he just likes me? Maybe after he saw me kick the ass of not one but two Daemons last night he decided I might be someone he'd like to get to know. Contrary to popular opinion around here, I might just be considered hot to the opposite sex," I added, attempting to stomp out of the room. My injuries made it more like a shuffle.
I slammed my door, cutting off anything they might have said, and threw myself on my bed.Just because I didn't share some freaky Link with someone didn't mean I was a leper or something.
A light tapping at my door interrupted my inner monologue. Krista opened the door before I could answer.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
"I guess," I said, scooting over so she could join me on my bed.
"We're only lo—" she started to say.
"Looking out for my best interest. I know, Krista. I've heard it a billion times. Everyone's always looking out for my best interest, but seriously, how badass do I have to become before you guys realize I don't need anyone. I'm not like you guys. I'm not going to fall apart being alone," I snapped. "But that also doesn't mean I can't be interested in someone."
"Jordyn, I've been on my own, and I know it's not a fun place to be. We know we're overprotective, but it's because we love you, not because you're some amazing warrior. Even if you had no gifts at all, we'd still love you the same."
"Sometimes it feels like you guys are smothering me. I want to be able to experience life without always having everyone breathing down my back. It's bad enough that I can't remember anything about my past without always having everyone hover over me. I just want a little space," I said. "I need a little space!" I clarified.
"I get that, and we'll work on giving you more space. We want you to be happy. I know Lynn leaving last month was hard on you, but you can't spend the rest of your summer moping around picking for a fight," she said, giving me her classic adult look.
I tried not to laugh. Sometimes Krista forgot that she was only five years older than me.
"Laugh it up, but taking on those Daemons without help isn't going to win you any brownie points," she said. "If you want us to treat you like an adult, you need to show you're responsible."
"But I knew I could take—" I started to say.
"Jordyn, we all know you can fight Daemons, but believe me when I say that The Dark One doesn't always play fair. Calling for help isn't being weak. It's showing responsibility," she said. "Okay, end of parental rant. Maybe when school starts, we can revisit you going out with the boy from chemistry."
"That's okay. He's really not my type," I said, thinking my type ran more toward a certain Trader.
"I see. Well, maybe you'll see ahumanwho is your type," she said, emphasizing the human part. "But, this Soul Trader, he's not for you," she added with finality.
I wanted to argue, but could see the subject was closed.
"I have no interest in Emrys," I lied, smiling through my teeth.
"Just keep it that way," she said, leaning over to give me a kiss on the head. "I love you," she said, shooting me one last worried look.
"Love you too," I said as she closed the door behind her.
My smile disappeared the moment the door closed. "Ugh, why can't I have normal guardians that were clueless to the supernatural world?" I complained, climbing off my bed. I grabbed a clean pair of knee-length grey sweats and one of the several black spaghetti-strap tank tops from the drawer. Krista had tried unsuccessfully to get me to switch to pastel colors a couple months ago, but I balked at the idea. White, black and maybe grey were my colors of choice.
With clean clothes in hand, I headed for the bathroom to grab a shower. The gentle hot water cascaded down my body, soothing my tender knee abrasions. As I gingerly scrubbed away the dried blood from my legs, my mind wandered back to the mountaintop and my encounter with Emrys. I was dying to know where he'd wanted to take me, and why he seemed to be so into me. I had my fair share of guys check me out over the last few months, but something always seemed to hold them back from actually approaching me. Lynn had thought it was the "I can kick your ass" vibe that she claimed I emitted. I tried taking her suggestions and softened my demure, but it felt phony. Besides, she said it looked like I had a bad case of constipation, so I gave up in frustration. Even when Justin from my chemistry class actually got the nerve to ask me out, I was so shocked I turned him down before it could fully register in my head. I tried to retract the rejection as soon as the words left my mouth, but the damage was done and it was too late. I was a social leper.
Emrys, though, was different. For once, I didn't feel like a big slimy leech. Haniel annoyed the hell out of me for butting in again just when things were getting interesting. Next time would be different, I resolved.
I stayed in the shower, mulling over the whole thing until the water began to run cold. By the time I was toweling off and pulling on my clean clothes, I had a whole plan worked out in my head of how the next encounter with Emrys would go, minus Haniel obviously.
Sam was sitting on my bed taking notes when I left the bathroom.
"Wow, what'd you do? Get dragged behind a car?" she asked, taking in my knees.
"I know, right. Too bad it's not Halloween. I could pass for a zombie," I quipped.
"True. Here, Krista told to bring you these," she said, holding up oversized Band-Aids.
"What, no one wants to see my gruesome legs?" I said, sitting next to her as she ripped open one of the packages.
"Not really," she teased, gently pressing the bandage down over my knee.
"I'm going to look like a complete tool with both knees bandaged," I griped as she applied the second bandage.
"Well, whose fault is it that you don't pay attention to where you're going?"
"Ha-ha, you're so funny. Not," I said, punching her arm lightly.
"Damn girl, you've got some bite to you," she said, rubbing the spot on her arm.
At first I thought she was teasing since I'd barely tapped her, but by the admiring look she was shooting m
y way, she was dead serious.
"Oops, sorry," I said.
"It's all good. You want to go see the zombie movie that just came out?" she asked, switching gears.
"Let me guess. Krista's idea?" I asked skeptically. It was typical of my aunt to use bribery to entice me. Even down to the point of conning her best friend into sitting through some zombie movie.
"It's not like you haven't been talking about it incessantly since it released last week," she reminded me, tugging on a wet lock of my hair. "Come on, it'll do you some good to get out."
"You sure it's safe, what with me on toddler watch all?" I asked, standing up to pull a brush through my long wet hair before it dried into a frizz ball.
"Haniel thinks as long as you're with a Guide you should be okay."
Translation: aGuide would be able to pick up any supernatural vibes and send in the troops, I thought sourly.
"Even a trouble magnet like you should be safe," she teased, trying to erase the scowl on my face.
"Fine. I'll go, but only because zombies are involved. Now go so I can change."
"Maybe something that's not black. I always feel like I'm with the crypt walker when you dress in all black."
"Take it or leave it, preppy," I said, taking in the plain khaki shorts and striped polo shirt she was wearing.
"Not prep, style," she said, looking offended.
I closed the door behind her, laughing at how touchy she was when it came to fashion. I'm not an idiot. I knew Mark and Krista were attempting to manipulate me by using Sam, but I was beginning to enjoy hanging out with her, so it wasn't much of a hardship. I think I just judged her unfairly in the beginning. She really was an all-around good person. Unfortunately for her though, she would have to live with my usual attire, although, to throw her a bone, I picked a white t-shirt instead of black. I pulled on one of the few pairs of jeans I had that didn't already have holes in the knees to cover my bandages and laced up my combat boots before stepping in front of my dresser mirror to do my hair and makeup. My black hair made my skin appear almost translucent, and my naturally thick eyelashes required no attention as they stood out on their own. I used my coal-colored eyeliner liberally on both eyes and smiled as they popped out against my porcelain skin. My favorite plum-colored lipstick completed the look I was going for as I stepped back to admire my handiwork. I looked like I was headed out to some hot club instead of a movie with my sort-of aunt, but that wasn't the point.
I headed down the hallway toward the living room where I could hear multiple voices. All noise evaporated from the room as I entered. Glancing around, I saw Sam and her husband, Shawn, on the far side of the room where they'd been chatting with Mark and Krista, about me I'm sure.
"Oh, Jordyn, I love your hair," Shawn said, engulfing me in a bear hug.
"Goth, right?" he asked as I hugged him back.
"Ha, you're so funny," I said, knowing he was teasing me.
"How was your mission?" I asked.
"The usual," he said, sounding bored.
"Maybe I can go with you guys next time," I said hopefully. The guys in my family had been handling the lion's share of the simple missions that were being handed down and spent most of the year traveling. Sam, Krista and Lynn took turns shuttling me around when a Guide's assistance was needed on a mission. They made a point of making sure I was never alone. I was insanely jealous of their freedom and spent the last year begging and pleading for an opportunity to go with them. All my pleas had fallen on deaf ears since I lacked a Guide's gift of helping free a soul, but I had argued countless times that I could be an asset to the Protectors.
"I'm not sure how many more missions we'll have in our future," Sam said, smiling brightly at me.
"Why not?" I asked, biting back my disappointment as my hopes were dashed. In the back of my head, I had been harboring the hope that after my success with the Daemons the night before that I would be allowed into their world once and for all.
"Your uncle and I decided to do something we've wanted to do for a very long time."
"And what is that?" I asked, trying not to sound as belligerent as I felt.
"We've decided to fill out the paperwork to adopt," she said excitedly.
"Oh, very cool," I said, feeling like a complete ass. I knew how badly Sam and Shawn wanted kids. They'd rejected the idea of adoption for years, claiming their lifestyle wouldn't be a fair environment to raise a child. "Are you guys going to try to adopt a baby?"
"No, we've decided to adopt an older child. One that might've otherwise fallen through the cracks. The woman we met with told us about a little boy who would be a perfect candidate. His mom died when he was born, and his dad just went to jail for manslaughter. They're searching for family members that might want to step in and adopt him, but if no one steps forward, we might be able to adopt him," she said with excitement lacing through her every word as happy tears gathered in her eyes.
"That's awesome," I said, feeling a lump in my throat.
"Of course, everyone is going to have to act normal," Shawn said, raising his eyebrows at me.
"What? I act normal."
"Reallllllllly," he said, fluffing my newly dyed hair.
"Hey, even normal people dye their hair."
"True, but they don't talk about wanting to kick Daemon ass or terrain training they've done with their Arch Angel," he teased.
"Duh, what am I, a complete moron? Besides, you guys should be more worried about yourselves. You're not exactly Joe and Mary Ray of Sunshine from Perfectville, USA," I said, defending myself.
Everyone looked at me for a moment before bursting out laughing. "You definitely have a way with words, Jordyn, no doubt," Shawn choked out.
"So, how old is the rugrat?" I asked curiously.
"He just turned nine. They didn't know he even existed until a neighbor notified the authorities that he was all alone in the trailer he'd shared with his father. Turns out, he'd been all alone in there for three days after his father was arrested."
"Holy shit," I muttered. "Oops, sorry," I said, looking at Mark.
"I'd say under the circumstances, we'll let it slide. It's a deplorable situation," he said, looking solemn.
"He'll be placed in foster care until any relatives can be reached, which could take up to a year," Sam said, sounding dismayed at the idea. The woman at the agency said he was taken to the hospital and treated for dehydration and multiple abrasions, including a broken arm that had gone untreated. They actually had to break the bone again to get it to set the right way. He also has a limp from a bone that was broken in his leg a long time ago that never healed right. Eventually, they'll put in a rod and screws to fix the bone. All the bad conditions and poor nutrition have made him frail and his bones very weak. He saw the hospital psychologist this morning and seems to okay mentally, despite his obvious horrible past," Sam said quietly, struggling with her emotions over the situation.
This is where being a Guide was tough. Sam could feel every bit of pain this poor kid has endured in his short nine years.
Krista reached over and patted her hand. "I'm sure he's tough, Sam. He'd have to be to make it through that, right?" she said, putting her arm around Sam.
Where the girls in our family struggled with containing their sensitive emotions in a situation like this, mine went in the opposite direction. I wanted to hit someone. I wanted justice for those who were unable to fight for themselves. I wanted someone to pay.
"Settle down," Mark said, coming over to place his hand on my shoulder while I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. My agitation radiated through me and I fought the urge to lash out at him, knowing I could break the hand on my shoulder if I wanted to. I tamped my anger back and stepped away from him.
"Ready?" I asked Sam, suddenly desperate to leave the house. I was happy for them, but at the moment, I wanted to hunt down the little boy's dad and show him what a real ass kicking looked like.
"Sure," she said, sensing how volatile I was at the momen
t.
"Be careful," Krista said, giving me the eye.
"Always am," I lied, heading out.
Sam was silent as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway without bothering to look for oncoming traffic. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, making the car buckle slightly under us before shifting into the gear I wanted. My small car raced down the road as I took each of the sharp curves with the precision of a race car driver. Driving came almost as naturally to me as fighting, and I felt in control as we rocketed through the night. I could tell Sam was nervous by the way her white knuckles gripped the dash, but she remained silent, letting me get my inner demons out. If Lynn would have been here, she would have most likely cheered me on to go faster. That's why we were such good friends, we meshed well. I took the turn into the movie theater parking lot without slowing and felt the back end of the car fishtail as I finally applied the brake. Whipping the wheel around, I slid into a parking spot and killed the engine in one fluid movement. Sam and I were thrown against the seat belts with my abrupt stop, and I welcomed the pain as the seat belt bit into my shoulder and across my stomach.
"Feel better now?" Sam finally huffed out.
"Not really," I answered shortly, striding toward the ticket booth, but wishing now that I hadn't agreed to see a movie. I was in a piss poor mood that was guaranteed to ruin our night.
"Chill, you're like a volcano waiting to erupt," she joked, trailing after me. "Jordyn, remember something. I know you can get fired up easily, but you've got to keep it in check for the sake of people around you. It's all good."
"Two students for Zombie Island," I told the bored looking girl in the ticket booth who was chomping gum like it was her last meal.
"Sixteen dollars," she said, blowing a bubble with the gum.
I handed over a twenty and was waiting for my change when I was knocked into from behind. Stumbling, I used the counter to keep from falling forward. I whirled around on the defensive to find a group of college football blockheads, judging by their brawn and cocky attitudes. They were too wrapped up in their rough housing to take notice of knocking into me and a young couple. None of them offered up an apology, which relit the fuse on my temper.