Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 7

  Standing next to Reed on the coping of the halfpipe, I look down the wall to the flat bottom below. “The snow looks bullet-proof,” I say, because the snow in the halfpipe looks super hard.

  “Yes,” he agrees, giving me an evil grin because he knows it will be fast. “Are you ready to—how did you term it? Smoke me?” he asks, looking down at me, and I know I am in trouble because he is probably stellar at this.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. Just keep in mind that I only have four limbs that work, while you have six. I’m working with a handicap here.”

  “Duly noted. Let’s see what you’ve got, Betty,” Reed says, smiling again.

  “Okay,” I reply, and then turn, dropping into the pipe. Hitting my backside wall first, I traverse the pipe a couple of times just doing poptarts to get a feel for the snow. On the third transition, I pump my board hard, trying to build up speed. When I go vertical and catch air, I perform a trick called a Japan; grabbing the front toe edge of the board with my front hand, I tuck my front knee and pull the board up while arching my back. When I drop back into the pipe, I have to roll down the windows a little to maintain my balance so I won’t do a face plant. Just when I know I have my balance back, Reed who had dropped into the pipe and rode the flat to get to me, sweeps me up off the snow and into his arms.

  “Need a ride back up?” he asks, attempting to cover up his over-reaction to the garage sale I almost had on re-entry.

  “Sure, but you know that I’ve wiped out before. I’ll survive if I fall down,” I say, smiling as he flies me back to the top of the halfpipe.

  “You may survive it, I may not,” he says effacingly. “That trick was good. What is it called?” Reed asks me.

  “Japan,” I reply. “I want to see Paradise though, are you ready to show me?” I ask, sizing him up when he puts me down on the wall of the halfpipe.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he says, grinning evilly again. I have to say that I have high expectations when I watch him drop into the pipe. My expectations do not even touch the sickest part of Reed’s session. It is so unbelievable because there are no names for the stunts he can pull off. I think he does a modified version of a McTwist at one point, but there are so many rotations involved, at least 1440 degrees that I can’t count them all.

  When Reed flies back up to me again, I feel like I am looking at a snowboarding god, not an angel. “Seriously Reed, I’ll never trash talk you again. That’s just insane what you can do.” He must like the praise because he pulls me into his arms and hugs me.

  “Evie, he is a poseur compared to me. Watch this!” Zephyr says, dropping in the pipe. Again, I freak out as Zee seems to defy the laws of physics with his tricks. The raw power in the rotations and flips are just plain wicked.

  Buns has a different style entirely from the guys. Whereas they’re power and precision, whipping out deadly maneuvers, Buns is grace and refinement. Her tricks are all stalled, so that she hangs in the air effortlessly as she gracefully extends her limbs. You can see the supple way she bends her body in intricate moves that makes her appear to be posing in midair. I want to learn how to do what she does, but I don’t know if I can ever pull it off because her wings seem to float while mine are built more for raw power and speed, kind of like the Power angels’.

  “Buns, that was completely gnarly. It was like watching a ballerina snowboard,” I say, because that is the best description I can come up with for what she can do. We sit together on the wall of the halfpipe, watching Reed and Zee defy gravity with their tricks.

  “Sweetie, when you can use your wings, you’ll make what we can do look grody by comparison,” Buns says with confidence.

  “Highly doubtful, Buns, but thanks,” I say.

  “No, Evie, that wasn’t an opinion, that is a fact. You are Seraphim, you’ll be incredible at everything you do, not just this.” I must look skeptical because she adds, “Seraphim are God’s personal guardians. You’re built for speed, strength, agility, power and cunning. Every other angel wants to be Seraphim and you go one step further. You are endowed with a soul, which makes you one of God’s children.”

  “If I’m so great, why is it that every angel I meet wants to kill me, with the exception of you and Brownie, of course?” I ask.

  “You’re taboo in a way. You’re one of the elements the Fallen wanted all along,” Buns replies. When she sees my confusion, she goes on. “Some demanded souls, so they could be like humans, like God’s children. In Paradise, angels take care of the souls, but the Fallen thought that we should get rid of the humans and take their souls, so that we can be the children of God.” Goose bumps break out on my arms as I begin to understand what she’s telling me. “But there were others that were far worse—they craved to be above God. To rule over God and His dominion.”

  “So some might think that I somehow succeeded where the Fallen had failed,” I say. “Or…that the Fallen have succeeded and I’m the product of that success,” I say cringing.

  “Yes. You cause all sorts of thoughts to fly through an angel’s psyche. But I want you to understand something about yourself, Evie. You’re so compelling to us and at the same time we find you very dangerous. We do not find you disgusting, but just the opposite, you are ideal—a model of perfection. Some will wonder what will happen to us, the soulless, if you are the new standard of being,” she says in a quiet way.

  “I think I get what you’re saying, angels already have to compete with humans for God’s affection. What happens when you add someone like me to the mix?” I say, and flop back to lie on the ground with my feet dangling over the halfpipe.

  I look at the stars above my head, trying to sort it out, but I can’t. If this is a debate, there are as many reasons to destroy me, as there are to protect me. Maybe even more to destroy, I think as fear leaks into my consciousness. But it’s strange that I’m not so much afraid of what could happen to me, as much as I am afraid of what could happen to the ones who would fight to protect me. The size of the problem I face makes me feel physically drained. How am I going to keep everyone safe? I think as I lie on the ground.

  A yawn escapes me then and I try to cover it up, so that Buns won’t see it, but she catches me. “Oh, sweetie, you’re tired aren’t you?” she asks, while popping up off the edge of the wall. “I’ll tell the Powers you need to go back now,” she says. She drops in the halfpipe to get them before I can lie and say I am fine.

  Almost instantly, Reed is above me, blocking out the stars from my vision. “Hi,” I say, smiling up at him.

  “I forget you need more sleep than we do. I’ll get you back to the cottage, so you can rest,” Reed says, scooping me up off the ground and brushing the snow off me like I am a child. I smile at him and think that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.

  Reed flies me back to the cottage and the bliss of being held by him is enough to keep me awake until we arrive. I don’t have much energy left in me for more than a good night kiss at the doorway of my room. I stumble in and change before crashing beneath the warm comforter on my soft bed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Snowboarding

  The angels surrounding me are making me feel off kilter; their actions remind me of lethal soldier wasps, like I am trapped inside of a hive with the swarm. Stirred into a frenzied commotion by an invader, me, these angels aren’t even attempting to veil their hostility. But, something’s missing—it is the sound that should accompany such a scene. It lacks the humming buzz that would reveal this place for what it truly is, a horrifying nest of killers.

  Walking forward, my heart hammers in my chest as a soldier behind me prods me to follow the Power angels ahead of us. They are moving slowly, disturbed by my presence, and therefore, inclined to cast haunted glances in my direction. A low, angry growl escapes from one of them as his eyes fall on me, making certain that I am still following them. He is having trouble reconciling what it is he sees trailing him. Since I am beyond caring about what any of them thinks of me, I ignore him to reserve all
my strength for what lies ahead—my execution.

  As they lead me further into an exquisite, Renaissance-style reception room, we walk to a set of double doors near the back. These doors, it appears, will take us deeper into the “hive.” Glancing around the museum-like chamber, I notice a beautiful gilded mirror encompassing a large portion of the foyer. Spying my reflection within the glass, I pause. I no longer look like me—the image in the mirror isn’t a girl—she is a Seraph with crimson wings, fiery auburn hair, and the fierce expression of an avenging angel.

  I awake from the nightmare with the worst sense of dread that I’ve ever felt. The fear that this nightmare engenders can’t compare with any that I’ve had thus far. Even though it lacks any of the gore of the others, there is such an intense sense of loss and finality to it that makes me feel like I’m drowning in grief—rage.

  Stumbling out of bed disoriented, I shuffle to the kitchen of the small cottage to get a glass of water from the sink. As I sip it, I rub my hand over my forehead, trying to wipe away the images that still linger from the dream. Wondering how I’m ever going to go back to sleep after that dream, I hear Reed say, “That bad, huh?”

  Startled by his voice, I drop my glass. But, the glass doesn’t shatter because Reed is in front of me in an instant. He catches it before it hits the ground without spilling a drop of water. “You scared me. I thought you were asleep.” I say, recovering from the shock of seeing him defy gravity once again.

  “I’ve already slept, but you’ve only been sleeping for four hours and twenty-seven minutes so that means you need to go back to bed,” he says as he sets the glass on the counter.

  “How long did you sleep?” I ask, smiling at the accuracy of my precisely estimated sleep time.

  “Two hours and thirteen minutes. I slept in because I was really tired,” he says seriously, which makes my smile deepen as I shake my head at him. How nice it would be to be able to consider a two-hour nap “sleeping in.”

  “Are Buns and Zephyr sleeping?” I ask, because it’s suspiciously quiet in the cottage with no noises coming from the back bedroom.

  “No, they went out for another session when they got up,” he replies.

  “Oh, you should’ve gone with them, instead of sitting around waiting for me to get up,” I say, walking over to the couch and sitting down facing the fire. I pull one of the throw pillows into my arms, hugging it for comfort while I stare at the fire crackling in the grate. Reed sits down next to me on the couch with his body angled toward me.

  “Why would I do that when you’re here?” he asks, sounding serious. “So, are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

  “New one tonight—not the same one I’ve been having,” I reply.

  “Who are the players?” Reed asks, leaning forward with an intense expression.

  “I’m not sure. No one I recognized—just me and a score or more of…” I trail off because I don’t want to tell him.

  “Of what?” he asks succinctly.

  “Powers,” I say with reluctance.

  “Fallen?” he asks the moment I answer him.

  “Maybe, I’m not sure, but…there was no gross smell, you know, like before when I dreamt of them. No, this was different,” I say, thinking of how to describe it to him. “It was like being a bee flying into a wasp’s nest. You pretty much know you’re dead; you’re just not sure when or from what angle the sting is going to come.”

  He recoils a little when I say this. “Am I there?” he asks, sounding tense. I shake my head no and watch his frown deepen into a scowl as his jaw tenses. “Describe the surroundings for me. What is the terrain like? Do you have access to any weapons? Are you restrained in any way?” he asks in rapid-fire succession.

  “Renaissance-style reception area with what I imagine are crystal chandeliers and gilded everything. There were exquisite rugs on gleaming marble floors and heavy brocaded curtains. Ceilings that would make the Sistine Chapel look like finger painting. No weapons that I can recall. I’m not restrained,” I say, trying really hard to think. “And…”

  “And?” he asks in a harsh tone.

  “And I’m afraid, of course, and filled with dread, but even more than that, I’m just extremely pissed off,” I reply, and anger is in my voice as I feel the residual rage from the dream.

  “Pissed off?” he asks as if he doesn’t know what the words means.

  “Yeah, like ‘avenging angel’ pissed,” I say, staring at him. “Like I might just see how many I can take with me on the way out.” I say, feeling again the echoing anger.

  “Yes. I know the kind of pissed off you are talking about,” he says thoughtfully. The way that he said it, with such earnestness, makes me smile again despite the grimness of the topic. “Is evasion possible?” he asks. “Where are the exits? Are they guarded?”

  I try to think again of the scene in my dream. “There are angels everywhere…I don’t think evasion is possible. I had guards in front of me and behind, like an unfriendly escort.”

  “Escort?” he asks, pouncing on the word. “Are they taking you somewhere?”

  “More like leading because I’m operating under my own power,” I reply.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “I don’t know, but…”

  “But?” he asks.

  “But, I want to go—I need to go faster. I feel like they’re too slow because they keep looking at me like they’re looking at a train wreck or something and can’t look away,” I say, trying to read the looks on the angels’ faces in my mind.

  “Why are you there?” Reed asks, and I see he is losing the battle to keep the anger from his voice.

  “I don’t know,” I reply with honesty.

  “Evie, this scenario doesn’t sound like our strategy at all to me.” he says accusingly.

  “Our strategy? What’s our strategy?” I ask him, feeling stumped.

  “Evasion. You, running like the wind away from all kinds of angels,” he says slowly, so that I will hear every word clearly.

  “Oh, yeah right, my bad, you mean the ‘sell out strategy’ where I place myself above everyone and everything else—that strategy?” I reply with sarcasm.

  “Evie.” Reed’s tone is harsh as if he can’t stop my name from exiting his mouth. I don’t want to fight with him so I turn toward him instead, scooting down the couch so that I can lean up against his side. In an instant, his arms are around me, hugging me close to him. “You have to run if you get a chance. I can take care of whatever comes when you are safely away from the situation,” he says, and I close my eyes, thinking about what he’s saying.

  “Reed,” I say, “the only way that evasion will work for me, is if I don’t have to leave you holding the bag.”

  “What do you mean by ‘holding the bag,’” he asks in confusion.

  “If I’m running away and leaving you behind to deal with the threat, then that means I’m leaving you holding the bag—I leave you to face the danger that is meant for me,” I explain solemnly.

  “I’m a Power, I live for danger—I crave it. It’s in my blood. That’s why I’m perfect for you. You attract danger and I’ll deal with it,” he says seriously.

  I flinch. “You’re in love with me because I’m a danger magnet?” I ask.

  “No, I’m in love with you for who you are, which is the most extraordinary being I have ever known. The danger is just a perk,” he replies.

  “That’s really sick, and not the good sick, I mean the bad kind of sick,” I reply.

  “Why is that sick? I’m just now beginning to see why I might be the one who is truly meant for you, for now anyway, because of what I am. I’m capable of protecting you,” he says, holding me close to him.

  “How do I protect you then?” I ask, snuggling against his chest.

  “I thought I had explained to you that I don’t need protection,” he says, stiffening.

  “Okay… sheesh, don’t get offended. You’re the scariest angel I�
��ve ever beheld who never needs anyone else to defend him. Are you happy now?” I ask in exasperation.

  “Yes, thank you,” he replies, kissing the top of my head.

  “So, you’re attracted to the dangerous type? That’s very interesting, since I, too, am attracted to the dangerous type,” I say, tracing the pattern on his t-shirt with my fingertip.

  “See, we’re perfect for each other,” he replies, and there is satisfaction in his voice. He radiates warmth and I smile sleepily when I realize how nice it is that I don’t need to convince him anymore that he is meant for me. He picks me up and heads to my bedroom. “You need to sleep now. There is a big day ahead of us, if I know anything about Buns and her sense of celebration.”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve!” I say in surprise. Time just doesn’t seem to mean anything to me anymore, since I’m not as subject to it. Learning that I am an eternal being has done funny things to my priorities and concept of what is important. He places me on the big bed in my room and I scoot over immediately so that he can get in next to me.

  “I’ll fall asleep faster if you stay with me,” I smile, watching him deliberate before caving in to my request and crawling into bed next to me. I snuggle next to his side.

  “Only if you promise to sleep. Buns will not be held at bay when it comes to the party tonight. You have to be ready for anything,” he says, smiling. So I am good and I sleep.

  “Sweetie, get up and come out to the kitchen. Breakfast has arrived and I need you to pick out an outfit for tonight,” Buns says as she breezes into my room.

  “Buns, what are you talking about?” I ask her, rubbing my eyes.

  “You’ll see,” she says, handing me a cup of coffee before leaving the room. I get out of bed, shower and style my hair before leaving my room. A light meal of fruit and croissants is waiting for me in the kitchen. As I eat, I watch Buns roll a garment rack full of dresses toward where I am. I glance at the rack questioningly, and then at Buns. Zephyr chuckles in the main room as the angels all watch me curiously.