"What?"
"I think somebody's playing a practical joke on you. It's probably Chris's friends. They know that he asked you out and they're-" "Trying to scare me to death?" I managed. "You really think that's all this is?"
"Did he try to hurt you?"
I held the phone so tightly my fingers were numb. "No."
"And where is he now? Still outside?"
I pulled at the curtains and peeked out again. Michael was gone. I scanned what I could see of the dark street but saw nothing. "I can't see him anymore."
"Figures. Maybe Chris found out and called the guy off."
The panic was quickly stepping to the side to make way for a seething annoyance. "Well, I don't find it very funny."
"They got me once. And trust me, it wasn't funny either, but they didn't mean any harm by it." There was silence for a moment. "But call the cops if you think it'll make you feel better. It would serve them right."
I checked the driveway again. Nothing. Michael was gone. "If he was still out there, I would, but now I'll just come off as a paranoid teenager."
"You okay now?" "I'm okay."
"Good. Now forget about the crazy loser guy. You have to tell me everything that happened with you and Chris." So I did.
I talked to her for ten minutes about the dance-and her date and what she was planning to wear-until I felt better. After I hung up the phone, I figured I'd get started on my studying.
I was so mad that I'd allowed myself to believe Michael's stupid joke. That jerk was probably laughing right now at how gullible I was.
Other dimensions. Sure.
I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself without Melinda's help, as I shakily walked through the dark and silent house and up the staircase to my bedroom. Lining the walls were framed covers of my mom's romance novels. Being married and divorced multiple times hadn't done much to change the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and she loved to talk about-and write about-being in love. My father had never been part of those conversations, though.
My eyes narrowed at the thought of my father. If I did have the chance to someday meet the man who had left her alone, I'd have several choice things to say to him, none of which was, "Nice to meet you, Daddy."
Demon king.
I was sure he was a demon, all right. But of the purely human variety.
By this time, the envelope Michael had given me was all wrinkled up, and I threw it on my bed along with my backpack. My stomach was churning and I still had my headache.
I wondered what the point of the practical joke had been-other than just messing with me. I was supposed to read this note and then go with him. Where was he going to take me? Or would he have come clean about everything before that?
Not to mention, how did he even know that I'd never met my father before? That was inside information I didn't share with just anyone.
Strange.
On the other hand, what if the letter was from my father after all? I was sure he was out there somewhere in the world. When not imagining that he was dead, I would imagine that he was in jail. That's probably where he was. And now if he was writing to me… maybe it was to borrow some money. Maybe he had some mob bosses after him, wanting to break his kneecaps unless he came through with cold, hard cash.
Yeah, that made total sense.
I was sure he was a bad guy. What kind of person would abandon his unborn child? And leave a beautiful woman like my mom?
I frowned. What was I even thinking? The envelope wasn't from him at all. I was totally obsessing.
Just a practical joke. Right?
If that was the case, then why were my arms crossed so tightly that I couldn't even feel my hands? All over a stupid envelope?
I grabbed it off my bed and sliced it open with a fingernail. Something heavy and loose slipped out and fell to the floor. I leaned over to pick it up and realized that it was a bracelet. A thin gold chain with one charm-a clear crystal in the shape of a teardrop. It was very pretty, actually.
With the bracelet dangling off my index finger, I pulled a folded piece of paper from the envelope. I held it in my hand for a good three minutes before unfolding it and focusing enough to read the short, precisely handwritten message: Dearest Nikki As Michael has explained to you, it is imperative that I see you immediately. There is much to explain about who you are and what it means.Now that you've turned six teen time is of the essence. You may have trouble believing all of this, or you may have already, experienced the side effects of being a. Darking — one who is half demon and half human- Please try to open your mind to this, because it is the truth. Wear the bracelet I've giv en you. It will help focus your power and may, with practice, make it man' ageable. Let Michael lead you to see me, I trust him implicitly. I look forward to finally meeting you after all this time.
Your father I set the letter aside. My hands were shaking.
My father was a demon king. So that meant I was a half-demon princess-a Darkling? He ruled the. . what had Michael called it? The Shadowlands?
The letter had talked about side effects. Well, other than a persistent headache, I hadn't experienced anything strange since I turned sixteen. So what was it? A magical headache? A demonic migraine?
I glanced at my reflection in my vanity mirror. Long, straight honey blonde hair. A scattering of annoying freckles on my nose that only went away if I took the time to use both foundation and pressed powder. Hazel-colored eyes with golden flecks. Pale lashes that required two coats of mascara to give the look of actual eyelashes.
Well, hello there, demon princess.
What a joke.
I tore the letter into itty-bitty pieces and then threw them in the toilet bowl. I flushed them away before going downstairs to take two Tylenol with a glass of milk. Stress headache. That had to be it.
Even though I'd rationalized the entire experience, I still felt shaken and tired and more than a little mad. It had been such a great day and this Michael freak had to go and ruin it for me. I couldn't even concentrate on studying, so I decided to forget about it. There would be some time in the morning to read about the doomed star-crossed lovers and try to fake my way through the test.
I was exhausted. Utterly exhausted.
At least one good thing had come out of this lousy experience, though.
I had a really nice, shiny new bracelet.
Even though my first inclination had been to flush it down the toilet along with the pieces of the letter, I'd stopped myself. It was way too pretty to throw away.
Besides, Robert-the-jerk would probably kill me if I clogged up his plumbing. He was funny like that.
The next morning, I left the house early enough to walk to school the long way. I wasn't taking any chances by cutting through the park again. I'd decided to wear the bracelet, and the teardrop crystal sparkled in the sunshine. I tried to forget who'd given it to me and just enjoy it for what it was.
Besides, I figured it was probably fake and would turn my wrist green by lunch. Then I'd throw it away. It was a plan.
I turned the corner at the end of my block and my stomach sank.
"Not you again," I said, feeling my heart speed up as crazy-stalker-practical-joke guy stood blocking my way. "I'm not in the mood this morning."
Michael's hands were still shoved deeply into the pockets of his blue hoodie. In fact, he wore the exact same clothes that he had yesterday.