Darker Days

He shifted on the couch and flexed his fingers and it almost looked like he was in pain. “Always here. Always crawling and clawing to get to the surface. It’s a constant fight to keep it under control.”

“But you said you can control it, right?”

Lips curling into a slight sneer, he leaned forward and said, “You’re not feeling particularly violent, are you?” He held my gaze, and there was something about his expression. Something challenging. It made the air drop in temperature, sending chills up and down my spine, but also sent little tickles wiggling in my stomach. Awesome and terrifying all at once. “It’s part of me, so it’s always there. A little bleeds into the air regardless of my control, and I’m afraid Klaire’s dream was spurred by that.”

“So then, yes to the pissy beams? You caused her dream.”

I didn’t know Lukas from a hell hole in the wall, but the guy looked like he wanted to scream. Taking a deep breath—he did that a lot—he said, “What is a pissy beam, and why do you keep accusing me of doing it?”

“Chill. Pissy—angry. Same thing. Now about the dream?”

“The anger was there already. Wrath just pulled it to the surface and intensified the feeling.”

He still hadn’t done anything about his hand. It was bleeding all over his jeans now. If he let it go much longer, he’d look like an extra from the set of 300.

I gestured to the homemade first aid kit on the coffee table I’d pulled from the bathroom. We had a dozen just like it floating around. My bedroom, the trunk of Mom’s car—anywhere it might be needed. There was even one stashed in the back yard under a faux trapdoor covered in leaves. Grandpa hadn’t been a boy scout as far as I knew, but he’d taught Mom to always be prepared. You never knew when a little triage might be needed. “So what did all that have to do with the glass?”

He set the bottle of peroxide down and popped the lid on the box, eyeing the contents as though unsure what to do with them. After a minute, he pulled out a roll of gauze. Without cleaning the wound, he began wrapping his hand. I guessed when you had an ancient evil living inside you, infection was the least of your worries.

“When Wrath feeds, I feel the anger. It’s brief—a few moments at the most—but it’s powerful.”

“So…you broke the glass because you were angry?”

He ripped the gauze and tucked the lose end in tight. “I broke the glass because Klaire was angry.”

“If anger is always leaking out, how come I’m not mad? Or at least annoyed?”

He shrugged. “Some people are more susceptible. For Klaire, the anger was already there. My presence just brought it to the surface. You are surprisingly even.”

“Even?” I tried not to laugh. Even was the last thing anyone would ever call me. Snarky. Impulsive. Destructive. Never even.

“Most people have at least a small amount of anger festering. In some cases, it’s deeply hidden but always there. You just seem…happy. Content.”

“What can I say, I’m livin’ the good life. Nothing to complain about.”

He smiled. “Your grandfather was like that. He was so different from everyone else. Quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“Peaceful to be around. Not a spark waiting to be ignited. I didn’t have to try as hard to keep Wrath at bay when I was around him.”

Peaceful. Another word never used to describe me. Poor guy. He was clueless. Totally cute—but clueless. “So you can pull anger from people who are already pissed. Can you make happy people angry?”

“Of course. But why would I?”

“Um, because you’re Wrath?”

His lip twitched. For a long minute we just stared at each other.

With a deep breath, he said, “I’m not Wrath. It may inhabit my body and cause certain…side effects, but I am still me. I still retain free will.”

Setting down the roll of gauze, he examined his hand, wiggling each finger in turn. Content with his work, he repeated his earlier question. “Who is Damien?”

“Tell me more about being human,” I countered. I was genuinely curious, but I also got the impression he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d pointedly avoided giving specifics earlier. Clearly, the subject was touchy.

He responded with a brisk nod. Feet kicked up, he stretched across the couch and rolled over.

Message received.

Chapter Five

4 days left…

I woke up the next morning with a humongous knot in the back of my neck, and some serious cottonmouth. When I got downstairs, Mom was already dressed and on the phone, but the shower was running. The couch was empty, so it had to be Lukas. Couldn’t blame the guy. It’d probably been a long time since he’d seen a shower—if he’d ever seen one. He hadn’t told us exactly how long he’d been in the box, so for all I knew, he could be hailing from the times of community baths in the local watering hole.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sniffed, choking back a gag. Ick. Hazelnut. Couldn’t Mom drink normal stuff? “So what’s the plan?” I asked once she’d hung up.

She stood and took the cup from my hands.

“Hey!”

“I made the Hazelnut on purpose. You’re too young to be a serial coffee drinker.”

That was Mom. Always trying to enforce some kind of normal in my life. It was sweet. Silly, but sweet. Normal was overrated. One of these days, I’d make her understand that.

“I have a few leads to follow up on the Wells family, and some strange calls have come across the police scanner this morning. I’m betting the Sins are out and about. The quicker I find them, the better I’ll feel. With only a few days to hunt them all down, we don’t really have time to spare.”

“Four days isn’t a lot of time, Ma…”

“I know…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced at the door to the apartment. “As much as I don’t like the idea, you’ll have to keep an eye on Lukas. Keeping him with me will only slow things down, and I refuse to set him loose on the town.”

Score! There was a history test fourth period that I’d been planning to skip. Now I didn’t have to worry. “Give me some of the leads. We can start digging around. Might as well do something constructive while I’m babysitting.”

“Oh, you will be doing something constructive. I’ve already called Principal Dubois. He’s aware you’re bringing Lukas with you.”

I froze. “Are you serious? You want me to bring him to school?” She’d gone batshit. “Do you have any clue how much angst and attitude we teenagers spew? It’ll be a nightmare! His head will explode. Plus—time limit, remember? I can do more good by helping you track the Sins. Or the Wells family!”

“You’re taking the bench on this one, Jessie. I don’t want you involved. This isn’t a standard case we’re dealing with here.”

“Bench?” I squeaked. She was only trying to protect me, but I didn’t need it. She’d trained me well and should know better. I wasn’t going to step back and watch her scramble to fix this thing in time—and possibly end up dead in the process. We always had each other’s backs. That shouldn’t change now. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m not kidding you.” Her brow wrinkled and she frowned. She leaned forward and grabbed both my hands, giving a good squeeze. “Please, Jessie. Don’t make more work for me. I won’t be able to tackle this if I have to worry about my teenage daughter going head to head with one of the oldest evils known to man. Got it?”

Great. Guilt trip. Something all moms apparently took classes on. “Well, what about Lukas? Bringing him to school is still a mistake.”