Fallen Angel Part 7

Chapter Eighteen.

The flash plagued me all day at school, even driving out my usual temptations to read the other kids. By the time my painful after-school meeting with Miss Taunton was over, I practically ran to the Daily Grind to meet Ruth. I figured that she might have heard something about Missy and Piper's plan, and I itched to learn more.

In my haste to open the coffee shop door, I nearly crashed into the back of a man who walked in just before me. As I started to apologize, he turned around to face me. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes, and wore a sweater and jeans. But his age confused me; he wasn't an old man exactly, but he seemed a lot older than the teenage guys who hung around the Daily Grind. Maybe he was a college student. I couldn't deny that the man, or kid, was handsome, but there was an unsettling quality to his attractiveness. I found him appealing and repellent at once. Particularly when he smiled a strange, bemused smile at me in forgiveness for my clumsiness.

Unnerved, I eked out one more "I'm sorry," and raced over to the table where Ruth waited with my latte. I was worried that she'd notice how fl.u.s.tered I was, but she was utterly preoccupied by the upcoming Fall Dance. Jamie from English had asked her-the Jamie I'd seen Ruth fantasize about in that one flash-so the four of us were going together. I sipped my coffee and listened to Ruth chat away, while I waited for my heart to stop racing from my peculiar little encounter.

"So are we going shopping for your dress this weekend?" I asked, grateful for the coffee. I needed the caffeine; the late nights were taking their toll.

She smiled. "Yes, I can't wait. I've been looking through magazines for ideas. I even found something perfect for you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's in this really cool blue color that'll look great with your eyes."

I hadn't wanted to tell Ruth, but I already had my dress. One day after school, Michael and I pa.s.sed the only really nice boutique in Tillinghast, and he practically dragged me in. He stood outside the dressing room while I tried on six dresses he picked out. I refused to leave the room to let him see me in any of the first five. But when I slipped on the last one, a red strapless silk dress with shirring around the bodice, I couldn't stay in that room. I looked and felt so different, but I wasn't certain. I needed Michael to be my reflection.

When I stepped out into the store, Michael's reaction told me it was the one. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, he came up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders, and whispered. Sitting there at the table with Ruth, I almost shivered thinking about what he said: "You look as beautiful as when you fly."

Ruth paused for a second, and I figured I had my opening to ask about the flash from Piper. Discreetly, of course.

"Have you heard any gossip about Missy or Piper lately?" I figured if anyone knew about the plan outside the inner circle, it would be Ruth. Her una.s.suming exterior masked an insatiably curious mind and provided the perfect cover for some adept eavesdropping. I knew I could have just touched her to see if she had any information, but I'd learned that it was impossible to act normally around her if I read her thoughts. So I continued to abstain from reading Ruth.

"No, other than the normal junk about boyfriends and parties. Why do you ask? You usually don't care."

"I overheard something about some plan of theirs. It sounded like it might be nasty."

"A plan from those two? Who did you hear talking?"

How could I explain my source? For about the millionth time, I felt guilty about keeping secrets from her. I scrounged around for an explanation, and said something close to the truth: "I was in the bathroom, and I heard two girls talking by the sink."

"Did you recognize the voices at all?"

"It sounded a little bit like Piper and Missy."

"I'll keep my ears open."

"Thanks." I didn't know why I cared. After all, Piper's problems were her own, and she'd never reach out to help me. But since I'd acknowledged my gifts, I'd been experiencing this overwhelming Good Samaritan impulse, and the flash I experienced with Piper left me with the desire to swoop in and help out this unknown victim.

"Although seriously, Ellie, I don't think I'll hear anything. Piper and Missy don't have the brains."

I was about to disagree-maybe Piper and Missy couldn't take the heat of an AP cla.s.s but they were no dummies in the scheming department-when she blurted out, "Is everything all right, Ellie?"

It was the question I'd been dreading. I really hated to lie to Ruth outright. "Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?"

"You seem so distant sometimes."

"I'm really sorry, Ruth. It's just that-" I started to trot out the excuse I'd prepared just for this occasion, when Ruth's attention drifted off. She was staring at something or someone behind me. Wondering if she was trying to demonstrate just how inattentive I'd become, I twisted around to follow her gaze.

She openly gawked at a guy sitting in the red club chair in the corner of the coffee shop-the guy I'd nearly crashed into when I walked in. From afar, he appeared even cuter, since the distance muted the whole disconcerting quality. He held a cup of coffee and a newspaper like most of the other people in the store, but somehow they looked like movie props and his clothes looked like a costume. Because he was far too good-looking for Tillinghast.

I spun back to Ruth to discuss him, and realized that she would disagree with any observation of him I might have. He mesmerized her. I literally had to snap my fingers and call her name before she tore her eyes away from him. And when she did, I was thankful he'd visited our coffee shop rather than the Starbucks across the street, whatever lingering eeriness I felt about him. Because the very presence of this strange man made Ruth forget all about her question.

Chapter Nineteen.

That night, Michael and I lay in our field, spent from flying along the coast. My head rested on Michael's arm as we stared up at the night sky. The gra.s.s was springy and soft after a light afternoon rain, almost as if we'd spread out a blanket. I felt so peaceful that I didn't want to bring up my flash with Piper. But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"What's wrong, Ellie?"

Clearly my attempts to act normal weren't working.

"I had this really weird flash today, and I just can't shake it."

"What was it?"

I told him every detail of the vision I could remember. The exchange between Missy and Piper. The references to a plan. The strange guy lurking in the background. The fear that Piper experienced.

Michael listened carefully, and then asked, "Of all the flashes you've had, why should this one affect you so much?"

His reaction disappointed me; he didn't seem particularly moved. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I expected him to feel everything I felt. We were alike in so many ways.

"I don't know. But I feel like I need to find out more and do something."

He twirled a strand of my black hair in his fingers and then sighed. "Why, Ellie? They're such jerks. You don't need to rescue Piper from anything."

"It's not Piper that I plan on rescuing. It's the victim."

"That's very n.o.ble, Ellie. But we're not superheroes."

I sat up. Michael had pulled me away kicking and screaming from my somewhat happy oblivion into this new existence. He basically made me acknowledge and embrace these "differences" of ours-and now he wanted me to ignore the impulse to help that came along with some of the flashes. This one especially. "No, Michael, we're not superheroes. But we're something more than regular humans."

"I know. But I don't see why that obliges us to fly in and clean up whatever mess Missy and Piper are making."

"Michael, I can't ignore this compulsion to get involved. Don't you ever feel it?" I had just a.s.sumed that he did. I'd never felt the urge to a.s.sist so intensely before, but I did experience it from time to time when a cla.s.smate transmitted a particularly troubling image to me.

"A little, I guess."

"Ever since we started"-I gestured around the field-"all this, I've been getting the strong feeling that we should use our gifts for something other than our own entertainment. Like helping the people whose minds we read. Do you ever get that sensation?"

He paused for a second. I saw his hand reaching out to stroke mine, but I drew back a little. I didn't want this conversation to be tainted by his touch; I was just too susceptible. "I guess I've been so wrapped up in you that I haven't let those thoughts get much play," he said.

For all my efforts to keep a physical distance, I felt like melting. Here was the guy of my dreams telling me that I so distracted him he couldn't see straight. How could I be irritated with him? Especially since I felt the same way.

Still, I wanted him on board with me. Not just about this Piper and Missy incident. I wanted him to feel what I felt. And given all my parents' training about helping out mankind, I was more than a little disappointed that he didn't.

"If you did think about this idea-that we have some kind of obligation to others because of our differences-what would you think?"

Even in the darkness of the moonless night, I could see Michael smile at me. "I've never heard of do-gooder vampires," he joked, to which I rolled my eyes. "What would I think?" he continued. "I'll tell you what I do think. I think that I'm lucky that you are sharing this experience with me. And I think that I'll help you. Because, even though I don't care about Piper and Missy, I care about you."

I curled into the crook of his arm, and whispered, "Thank you."

We talked for a moment about a game plan for gathering information and then Michael whispered, "Ellie?"

"Yes?" I answered. His tone was so silky and inviting that I figured he was going to kiss me. He usually did at the end of the night. But I was always careful to stop it there; those first experiences kissing him really shook me up, and I didn't want to lose control.

His lips tickled my cheek, and his sweet breath warmed me. I turned my face toward his, ready.

In that same honeyed voice, he said, "You know if we used their blood, we could find out nearly anything."

"Michael," I said in frustration. He knew how I felt about the whole blood thing. And anyway, I wanted a kiss, not another argument on this topic.

"Come on, Ellie. It'd be a chance to try out its power."

Other than those first few, unplanned occasions, I hadn't tried Michael's blood. Or let him try mine. I remembered the addictive headiness of its taste all too well, and it scared me. I was afraid that, once I started, I wouldn't be able to turn back. But I couldn't tell Michael that.

"No."

"It would be for a good cause," he said suggestively, as he traced his finger up and down my arm.

"You'll try anything to persuade me, won't you?"

He just smiled, unable to deny it.

"Let's see if we can't find another way," I said and kissed his neck very lightly.

"Now who's being persuasive?" he said, his voice growing thick.

It was my turn to smile.

He said, "All right, we'll try it your way first. But promise you'll just consider-"

"I promise."

I kissed him hard. I was so relieved and happy that he was on my side for the Piper thing, I let my guard down. Within seconds, we were wrapped in each other's arms. I felt his tongue on mine, and I surrendered to the feeling of it. He must have sensed that I wouldn't fight him, because I soon felt a tiny cut on my tongue and tasted the blood. His and mine. Together.

The sensation was pure pleasure, unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I closed my eyes and let the bliss wash over me. Until a flash-more like a vision than a memory-came. The light was blinding; I squinted in my mind's eye. As my vision adjusted, I saw Michael and me standing on a pristine beach of white sand, arcs of light at our backs. We looked so beautiful, so serene. And then I noticed something really peculiar. Emblazoned across our chests were letters, written in light. I struggled to read them, but the characters were in an unfamiliar language.

I could have lingered in the moment, but I felt Michael's tongue graze over my teeth again and I knew he was searching for more blood. I awakened from the image, understanding that, if we continued this practice of blood sharing, we would never, ever stop.

I pushed Michael off me and sat up. I struggled to speak. "Do you understand why we can't do this with anyone else? Why we shouldn't even do this with each other? Do you see how you can't stop hunting for blood once you start?"

"I do." His breath was belabored.

"Promise me, Michael, you'll never taste anyone's blood but mine."

He stared into my eyes, his chest still heaving but his gaze steady. "I promise."

Chapter Twenty.

Michael and I had agreed to divide and conquer Missy's clique. I took Piper for obvious reasons and Missy out of guilt, since I'd instigated this whole thing. In exchange for my handling of the heavy hitters, Michael took the remaining six group members-Hallie, Kristen, Elizabeth, Samantha, Jennifer, and Shadley. Soon we unleashed ourselves on the unsuspecting Tillinghast Upper High School.

Or so we believed. We had this fantasy of sauntering in, touching them, and gathering up all their secrets. Not so, when we had specific secrets we wanted to gather.

The stars had to be perfectly aligned to learn the tiniest detail. First, we had to actually make physical contact. Then, the person had to be thinking about the scheme at the exact moment we touched them. Finally, the flash-if we were lucky enough to get the one we sought-had to make sense. We had learned that people's thoughts weren't linear, but often so disjointed and jumbled that we couldn't understand the image.

But the most difficult part was touching them. How could we brush up against them and make it seem accidental-instead of looking like some kind of a pervert? Plus I faced an additional hurdle. Usually, I avoided Missy and Piper at all costs. But now I had to place myself in their path in a seemingly natural way-and then find a way to touch one or both of the school's most unapproachable junior girls. It wasn't easy, particularly since they seemed to have abandoned their efforts to woo me.

I lingered at my locker, hoping to run into them. To no avail. I memorized their cla.s.s schedules, and I shifted my route so I could b.u.mp into them. Without success. I forced poor Ruth to have coffee at the Starbucks instead of the Daily Grind because that's where they hung out. No sightings. After all these weeks of trying unsuccessfully to avoid them, suddenly I couldn't cross their paths to save my life.

Michael's efforts were stymied as well. While he had more luck making physical contact with the group's minor members than I did-no surprise given that he was a cute senior guy-he couldn't wrangle any relevant images from their minds. Whether the reason stemmed from their ignorance about the plan or the fact they weren't thinking about it when Michael made contact, we didn't know. But he loved to torment me a little with the description of romantic images of himself he extracted from some of their minds.

In desperation, I thought maybe I'd try the next-door neighbor gambit. I hoped beyond all hope that the friendlier version of Piper who appeared once we left school might be more amenable to my efforts. But, day after day, a solid opportunity eluded me.

One afternoon, while my mom was making cookies, I spotted my chance. Much to her astonishment, I offered to drop off a dozen at the Faireses as a "friendly" gesture. Both of Piper's parents worked pretty long days-her mom was a secretary at the university and her dad was an a.s.sociate professor of political science-and I guessed they'd still be at work. I'd seen Piper's car in the driveway, so I figured that I might have a few minutes alone with her.

I had no fixed game plan, but I had to try. Balancing the tinfoil-wrapped plate on my hip, I walked the short distance between our two houses. Then I lifted the ancient door knocker and let it bang down with a clang. As I'd hoped, within a few seconds, Piper opened the door.

Her mouth was wide in surprise at the sight of me on her doorstep. Since I came bearing gifts, she had no choice but to invite me in. As she held the door open for me, I grazed my finger against her forearm. All I got was a faint image-as weak as milky tea-of her struggling over an English paper on Shakespeare. I must have interrupted her homework.

Piper ushered me into the kitchen, thanked me, and pointed to an open spot on the counter to lay the cookies. Her neighborly duty done, she pivoted and started to walk back toward the door. I was about to be discharged like a servant; apparently, friendly Piper was not going to make an appearance. Not readily, anyway.

I had to get her thinking about the plan and make contact. Fast.

"So, are you doing all right?" I asked, all concern and empathy.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Piper had a quizzical expression on her face, but it looked forced. She knew what I was talking about.

"You know, the bathroom."

"Oh, that," she said with a wave of her hand. "That was nothing, like I said."

Here was my chance.

"Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to..." I reached out and touched her shoulder.