Leviathan

“You can’t have a real opinion unless you’ve actually listened to the stuff. It’s like saying you don’t like broccoli when you’ve never even tasted it,” he said, frustrated by the angel’s attitude.

“I like broccoli,” Gabriel said suddenly. “I wish I had some right now. All that talk about Tasty Chow has made me very hungry.”

Aaron glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was a little before noon. They had been on the road since the crack of dawn, and it had been a long time since breakfast. Maybe we should pull over and get something to eat, he thought. Then he remembered Stevie and immediately felt guilty. Who knew what was happening to his foster brother?

When the Powers attacked his home, the angels took his seven-year-old foster brother. Stevie was autistic, and according to Camael, angelic beings often used the handicapped as servants because of their unique sensitivity to the supernatural. This was the main reason they were on the road, to rescue Stevie—that and to prevent the Powers from hurting anyone else Aaron might care about.

Aaron was distracted by the sound of something spattering and looked down near the emergency break to see saliva pooling from Gabriel’s mouth. “Gabriel,” he scolded, reaching back to push the dog into his seat, “you’re drooling!”

“I told you I was hungry,” the Lab said, leaning back. “I can’t stop thinking about that Tasty Chow commercial.”

Aaron looked over at Camael, who was silent as he gazed stoically out the window. “So what do you think?” he asked. “I’m getting kind of hungry myself. Should we stop and get some lunch?”

“It makes no difference to me,” the angel said, not looking at him. “I have no need of food.”

Aaron chuckled. “You know, that’s right,” he said, the realization sinking home. “I’ve never seen you eat.”

“I love to eat,” said Gabriel from the back.

“How is that possible?” Aaron asked, finding himself interested in yet another aspect of the alien life-form known as angel. “Everything has to eat to survive—or is this some bizarre kind of supernatural nonsense that I won’t understand?”

“We feed off the energies of life,” Camael explained. “Everything that is alive radiates energy—we are like plants to the sun, absorbing this energy to maintain life.”

Aaron thought about that for a moment. “So, since you’re sitting here with me and Gabe—you could say you’re eating right now?”

The angel nodded. “You could say that.”

“I’m not eating right now, although I wish I was,” the dog said irritably.

“Okay, okay,” Aaron replied, preparing to take the next exit. “We’ll find someplace for a quick bite, but then we have to get back on the road. I don’t want Stevie with those murdering sons of bitches any longer than he has to be.”

As he took the exit and merged right, onto a smaller, more secluded stretch of road, Aaron thought about all he had left behind. Every stretch of highway, every exit, every back road took him farther and farther away from the life he was used to. He already found himself missing school, something he hadn’t thought possible. It was senior year, after all, and in some perverse way he had been looking forward to all of the final papers and tests, the acceptances and rejections from colleges. But that was not to be; being born a Nephilim had seen to that.

Aaron caught sight of a roadside stand advertising fried clams, hamburgers, and hot dogs. There were picnic tables set up in a shaded area nearby—perfect for Gabriel.

As he pulled into the dirt lot, an image of Vilma came to mind. Before his life collapsed, he had almost believed that he was going to go out with one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. They never did have an opportunity for that lunch date, and now probably never would. Suddenly Aaron wasn’t quite as hungry as he had been.

Vilma Santiago sat at the far end of the cafeteria at Ke

The elusive memory of the previous night’s dream—or was it a nightmare?—teased her with its slippery evasiveness. She hadn’t slept well for days, and it was finally begi

But most of all, she felt sad.

Vilma opened the paper sack that contained her lunch and removed a yogurt and a sandwich wrapped in plastic. She had been in such a state that morning, she couldn’t even remember what kind of sandwich she’d made. She hoped the lunches she’d prepared for her niece and nephew were at least edible, or she would be hearing from her aunt when she got home.

Without bothering to check the contents of the sandwich, she placed it back inside the bag. The yogurt’ll be plenty, she thought as she removed the plastic lid and then realized that she didn’t have a spoon.

It was no big deal, there were plenty of plastic spoons at the condiment table—but the intense, irrational disappointment of the moment made her want to cry.

Vilma had been feeling a bit emotional since Aaron Corbet left school—left the state, for all she knew—a couple of weeks ago. She had no idea why she missed him so much. She had just barely gotten to know him.

She placed the lid back on the yogurt and pushed that away as well. She really didn’t feel like eating, anyway.

There was something about Aaron, something she couldn’t quite understand, but a kind of comfort and calmness seemed to enwrap her whenever he was around. Though they had never been on a date—or even held hands, for that matter—Vilma felt as though a very important part of her had been surgically removed with Aaron’s departure. She felt incomplete. She wanted to believe that it was a silly crush, a teenage infatuation that would eventually fade, but something inside her said it wasn’t, and that just made her all the more miserable.

Vilma sat back in her chair, looked out over the cafeteria, and unconsciously played with the angel that hung on a gold chain around her neck.

According to the news reports, Aaron’s foster parents and little brother had died in a fire when their house had been hit by lightning during a freak thunderstorm. He’d said he was leaving because there were too many sad memories. But she’d known he was holding something back—although she didn’t know how or why she knew this. Not for the first time she felt her eyes begin to burn with emotion.

There had been talk at school, silly hurtful whispers, that Aaron had been responsible for the fire that took the lives of his family, but Vilma didn’t believe it for a second. Sure, he was a foster kid who’d been shifted around a lot. He was entitled to be angry. But, she knew in the depths of her soul that he wasn’t capable of harming anyone. Still, the mystery of his abrupt departure continued to gnaw at her.

Vilma jumped as a voice suddenly addressed her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d failed to notice the approach of one of the cafeteria staff.

“I’m sorry, hon,” said the large woman with a smile. She was dressed in a light blue uniform, her bleached blond hair tucked beneath a hairnet. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s all right,” Vilma answered with an embarrassed laugh. “Just not paying attention, I guess.”

“You done here?” the woman asked, gesturing to Vilma’s discarded lunch.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied as the woman swiped a damp cloth across the table and carried away her trash.

Vilma continued to sit, gently stroking the golden angel at her throat.

Maybe that was why she hadn’t been sleeping. Since Aaron left, her nights had been plagued with dim nightmares. She’d awaken in the early morning hours, panicked and covered in sweat—the recollection of what had caused such a reaction a nagging unknown.