His index finger absentmindedly traced my face, beginning at my now perpetually creased forehead, down my nose, to my cheek, where he let his hand stretch open, warming it. His thumb glided over my lips. Despite the calm he had just generated within me, I couldn’t help feel the increased pounding of my blood as it raced to my heart.
His lips hovered just above mine, his breath warming my face, and I closed my eyes to accept his kiss. The instant his lips locked onto mine I felt we were moving, floating upward. I saw a glow behind my eyelids, as if someone had turned on the overhead light. Panicking, I opened my eyes and searched frantically for an excuse as I pictured my mother’s astonished face in the doorway, only she wasn’t there. My door, thankfully, was still closed. I looked at Garreth, searching for an answer but I was met with an overwhelming feeling of peace.
I realized just then the magnitude of what it means to know your Guardian. What Garreth was sharing with me couldn’t be placed into words. What I was experiencing, what he was giving me, was raw emotion. The answers to my endless stream of questions were visible in his eyes…who he was, what he was…the strand that connected us. It was all there.
Weightlessly, I was returned to the comforting mattress beneath me.
“Sleep now. You’ve been through a lot tonight and I know you’re going to need all of your strength soon. If Hadrian has control of Ryan’s Guardian then he’s even closer than I thought.”
I wanted to object and force myself to stay awake but sleep came after me like a warrior and I unwillingly surrendered. The night, the stress, the kiss rained down on me and I found myself soothed in my angel’s arms as he held me, his breath on my ear like a lullaby.
“Stay,” I whispered, my fingers curling with his, holding him to me for the duration.
I was beyond drowsy, my eyes refusing to open at that point. As sleep wove its way through my system, I felt reassured that nothing would dare linger in the shadows, not on this night.
But I was wrong.
The star kept changing. At first, the points were clear, shimmering in the pale light of the descending sun of my dream, never failing to capture my soul the way it always did. Then the hand on which it was engraved closed, crushing it fiercely, then opened once again.
Dust spilled from the open palm and overlapping squares would replace the eight-pointed star that had been embedded before it.
This happened over and over, the constant change of one to the other. The beautiful star insisting it stay and the other overshadowing and pulverizing it. The squares always resurfaced, their outline glowing crimson, dripping, as if lined with blood. It sent me running through a dense wood that was strangely familiar.
I dodged tree after tree, stumbling and regaining my footing, only to fall again. My heart pumped with fear as I raced toward a white light in the clearing, only I couldn’t get there fast enough. Even with the trees racing past me, nearly blinding me, I couldn’t will my feet to move any faster. I screamed my angel’s name until my throat became raw but only my echo had the courage to answer me.
At last I saw white wings, more beautiful than ever, and my heart leaped at the sight of them. “Garreth!”
I pushed myself forward, ready to jump into his arms, ready to float upward again, away from the darkness of the trees, away from the bloodstained star I knew was not far behind me. Tears spilled onto my cheeks. He was so close.
“Garreth!” My voice strained, but I had to call to him. I had to reach him. I had to keep moving.
But I stopped short. The wings before me were no longer soft and white, but thick and leathery. I was mesmerized. My mouth ran dry as I looked up and realized why my beautiful guardian hadn’t answered me.
The wingspan that towered over me was enormous, larger than anything I could ever envision. They flapped violently and strangely. I was flung to the ground, overcome with immense fatigue. As I came to, I found myself standing on a rooftop, my arms outstretched at my sides. I heard a voice behind me. Ryan. It was when I looked down at my feet and saw the black boots that I began shaking horribly. Claire’s boots. I stretched my hands out in front of me and saw the tiny scar on my left thumb. Claire’s scar. The scar she had gotten eight years ago, the day we met on the third-grade playground, the cut that brought us together and linked us as friends forever.
I felt my blood drain as the wind caught me, my feet no longer steady on the edge. Wings cradled me but only for a matter of seconds before breaking off. Then a swift breeze clawed at my skin, and I screamed in silence as I tasted blood from the back of my throat.
I didn’t want to wake up, but a sharp, intrusive light piercing the thin skin of my eyelids finally urged me to open my eyes. I murmured softly into the comfort of my pillow.
“Garreth.” My hand reached out to grasp his, knowing he would be there still, lying next to me, but my fingers grabbed a pillow.
I sat up, pushing my hair out of my face and I realized it wasn’t morning. Light streamed in from the hallway, bouncing off the glass of my window, mirroring my room back to me instead of allowing me to see the new day on the other side. There was a motion down the hall, followed by the slight padding of my mother’s feet, slowing as they reached my door until her form filled the brightly lit space of my open doorframe.
“Teagan? Honey, are you asleep?” Her hesitant voice was laced with worry.
“No, I’m awake.” I shook my head, trying to clear it, and quickly scanned my room. Aside from my mother, I was alone. “You were asleep on the couch when I came in. I didn’t want to wake you.”
My mom stood in the doorway, staring at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um, the phone. It’s about Claire.”
It was just like Claire to ignore my text. When she wanted to be heard, that girl sure had a way of making people listen. My brain was preparing me for what I would hear. All the reasons. All the excuses. Why she hooked up with Brynn and the Bitch Squad, why she dragged me into it. Hell, she was probably pissed at me for leaving.
“I’m sorry mom. I sent her a text when I got home. She’s probably just…being Claire.” My annoyance was streaming out of me.
With my covers pushed aside, I hopped out of bed to get the phone so she could go back to sleep but my mother didn’t budge. I tried to decipher the look on her face as she stared at me.
“It wasn’t Claire who called. It was her mother.”
Little bolts of fear pinched me from the inside out. My mom was going to find out eventually that I had crossed the town line and went to a rave, so I guessed now was as good a time as any.
Well, I almost went to a rave.
But what about when I had to explain the part about the IDs or Claire’s manipulative, turned-evil boyfriend?
That sure as hell wasn’t going to go over very well. Not only that, now she would know I didn’t get a ride home with Claire.
I let out a big sigh. “I didn’t get coffee with Claire. We were supposed to, but she had this crazy idea about trying to get into a club with these new friends of hers.”
Eew. My stomach is churning.
“I told her it was wrong and I really, really tried to get her to go back home but she was acting strange and I couldn’t get through to her. So I found another way home. I’m sorry.”
The truth spilled out of me, much like it always did when I was nervous, and then I let my voice fall silent.
“I’m sorry. I guess this means I’m grounded from Saturday nights with Claire for a while, huh?”
I peeked at my clock: 4:23 a.m. My mom studied my face. If she was looking for guilt, I’m sure she found it.
“Teagan, there was a horrible accident.” Her face contorted and got that scrunched up look people get when they’re holding back tears. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I stared at my mother as if she had two heads.
“Claire’s dead.”
In an instant, my dream found its way back to me. I felt the sick swirl of nausea starting in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly my room felt hot and dark and my pulse pounded throughout my body, adding to the strange tone my mother’s voice had taken on, like it was trapped in a metal can.
“Oh, sweetie.” She threw her arms around me, instinctively protecting me from the words she had delivered. “Thank God you’re all right, but I’m so very, very sorry about Claire.”
She reached for the tissue box on my nightstand but for some reason I wasn’t crying. I was numb.
I looked at her, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She was visibly more upset than I was showing. I couldn’t believe it. Claire?
Then, suddenly, something inside me snapped.