Adam: You woke me up for a serious conversation about the end of the world?
Me: When you say it like that it makes me feel stupid.
Yeah, I really needed to evaluate what I was saying here. I couldn’t have a conversation about something I wasn’t allowed to have a conversation about in the first place.
Adam: D, I love you, but I also love sleep.
Me: Fine, fine go back to bed. I will just sit here and ponder the meaning of life.
Adam: The meaning of life is sleep, something you should get. Otherwise, you are going to be a bitch tomorrow, and I won’t want to be around you.
Me: Well that was blunt.
I narrowed my eyes at the phone and then broke into laughter. I would have been blunt too if he had just woken me up.
Adam: Sorry I’m not into sugar coating when I’m woken up at three am.
Me: Will you stop mentioning what time it is.
Adam: What? The fact that it is now fifteen past three and we haven’t had a conversation yet except this one about the time?
Me: I have no idea what you are talking about.
Adam: Because it’s too early in the morning to think. Go to sleep D.
Me: But I can’t sleep!
Adam: Take a shot of whiskey with a sleeping pill!
Me: You are no fun.
Adam: I stop being fun at eleven on weeknights and midnight on weekends. Go to sleep!
Me: Fine… See you tomorrow?
Adam: I don’t know, depends on how much sleep you get.
I put my phone back on the night-stand and rolled towards the wall. I was determined to get to sleep. Finally, after some convincing, I was able to lull myself to slumber. The nightmares welcomed me with open arms.
Chapter 4
The Dreaded Words
I had started a journal after the school shooting. It was a log of everything natural and supernatural that went on in my twisted little world. It documented the time that I had had with Wesley, from the moment we met until the second that he was gone. I was trying to make sense of the events that I had seen and experienced over the past few months. I also documented cases that were odd and unusual, as well as things that I needed to dig further into; just so that I could understand them. The latest entry was about Helen and the story that Adam had shared with me the night before. I hadn’t talked to my mother yet about her, but I intended to discuss the angel child with her without delay.
I put my pen down and looked at the window. I had nailed it shut after John had found his way into my room a few months earlier. I didn’t want to give him any more opportunities to take me by surprise. Krista had said she couldn’t hold him forever, meaning sooner or later the spell she had over him was going to wear off. When that happened, he was going to be coming back for me with even more force than he had before.
I wasn’t sure if he would join up with Miranda before or after he had my soul, but I had a distinct feeling it would be before. I was sure he still needed Miranda, and Miranda still needed him. The idea of their union was frightening, two beings with great power working together in a menacing way toward a common goal, getting rid of me and my kind. I wasn’t sure what my kind was yet, but it must be something good if they were so fixed on wiping us out.
I was amazed that Wesley had been able to hold out as long as he did before he ran off with Miranda. If she was as powerful as she seemed, then he had been fighting a will like no other when he tried to keep his distance from her. I supposed it was inevitable that she would subdue him eventually.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I could hear my mother in the kitchen. This was as good a time as any. I padded into the galley and took a seat at the table. Letting out a long sigh, I looked at my mother, who was standing at the stove.
“Interesting night, don’t you think?” I began cautiously.
She turned to look warily at me. “If you say so.”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you what Adam told me yesterday.” I started tapping on the table.
“Must be something good if it makes you nervous,” my mother observed, clearly irritated by my fidgeting.
“Very much so.” I frowned and lapsed into silence for a few moments before I spoke again. “He knows angels exist.”
My mother paused from stirring what she was cooking, spatula in her hand. “Well, of course he does, honey. He goes to church every Sunday and is active in the youth groups and the choir.”
For a woman that was known to follow her intuition, she seemed to be avoiding the conversation.
“That’s not what I mean, Mom,” I said quietly. “I think you need to sit down for this.”
My mother put the pan on another burner and came to join me at the table. She looked worried, eyebrows furrowed and chewing her bottom lip.
“Okay...” she replied.
“Just over two years ago a girl named Helen Price moved to Midvale with her mother. This was after Adam’s own mother had left his father and moved to the city with his little brother. Adam didn’t have much faith in either God or his own family just then. He felt like his life was on a downward spiral, that he was being punished. He lost his faith. Then this girl showed up from nowhere, changed his life, and restored him to the church.” I took a breath. “One day this girl told Adam she had
