The Watcher

“Hello, tell me what? I’m right here,” I exclaimed. “Why are you talking about me when I’m right here? It’s rude.”

Arielle looked sharply at Michael. “She can hear us?”

“Of course I can hear you,” I replied. “What do you mean you’re his sponsor?”

Arielle spoke to me in the same voice I’d heard her use at the movie theater. “You can hear me now, right?”

“Of course!”

“What about now?” she asked. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice was musical and clear. It was a different voice.

I nodded, my mind reeling. How can I be hearing her speak when her lips aren’t moving? I wanted to cry again.

“She can hear us telepathically,” she said out loud this time, and her serene, perfectly balanced face registered alarm. “I wonder how far along the network—”

“What’s going on? What network?” I asked. Their serious expressions were begi

“You can hear our thoughts, Mia,” Michael said. “We’ve not known anyone who could do this before.”

“You’ve not known,” I said.

Looking concerned, Arielle took a step toward me. “Have you heard us before?”

“No,” I said quickly, then recalled the morning in the park, the flash of light. I’d heard something that morning too. “Once, maybe. After I was chased. But it was really staticky. I thought it was just a radio or something.”

“It’s clear now?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“People hear things when their adrenaline is up, like when they’re afraid, but having it come in so clearly…” She turned to Michael. “Another side effect of you kissing her. You have to be careful.”

“I am…” he began, but stopped at Arielle’s look. He ran his hands down his face and let out an exasperated sound. “Do you think its effect will wear off?”

“It better.” I let out my breath, trying not to panic. “Because this is a little too weird for me.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Arielle, a wry grin on her face. It was difficult to dislike her, even though everything female in me felt threatened.

“We should watch her carefully. I’ll keep an eye on her tonight, make sure she’s all right.”

Arielle frowned and a gust of wind blew tendrils of hair into her face. “No, Michael, I think I should watch her. You need to recover, too. You’ve both been impacted. You couldn’t even feel me coming.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said hastily.

“Will she be, if you’re around all night?”

With a sigh, he acceded and turned to me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

We drove back in silence, not touching each other, not talking. The distance hung between us, palpable and heavy as a lead curtain. I tried to focus on the music instead, but it sounded harsh, so I turned it off.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling the car in front of my house. He didn’t look at me but at the dark clouds looming in the sky. Rain would come any minute.

“What?” I asked, biting my lip to keep my voice from wavering. “Sorry you kissed me?”

He reached a hand to touch me but let it drop. “Can’t you see? You could get hurt. Really hurt. I’m not good for you.”

I shook my head, not wanting to hear what he had to say next. “Please. Don’t.”

Turning to face me, he leaned against his car door and sighed, clearly upset. “The feeling that you couldn’t get enough—I put it there. I don’t even know how. I just wanted to be close.”

So did I. “I don’t see what’s wrong with—”

“It’s dangerous,” he warned, cutting me off. “Had we gone any further…” He stopped talking, but the look in his eyes spoke of anguish and terror and shame. “I don’t know how to control it.”

I didn’t understand all of what he was saying, but I knew him. I also knew how I felt, how I’d always felt for him. I’d wanted that kiss as much, if not more, than he had. “What if you could?”

“I can’t—”

Before he could finish what he was going to say, I leaned across the console and put my finger to his lips. He didn’t move but held my gaze, warily, as my finger traced the outline of his lips. When he raised a hand to my elbow, I thought he was going to stop me. But he didn’t, so I leaned in and kissed him. His body tensed. I pulled back. I could see the struggle behind his eyes, the war raging within him. I should have been afraid—of him, of what I was doing—but I couldn’t be. Instead, I kissed him again and felt him relax as his mouth responded to mine.

It was my own desire that made me kiss him, but his response tingled and rushed through me like a spell. I was playing with something strong and tempestuous and I wanted to be consumed by it. My life. Me. I didn’t matter. This mattered. His hand gripped mine tightly as he leaned into me, and I thought my heart would explode in my chest. When his other hand moved gently up the side of my waist, it shook. It was time to stop. But, oh God, I didn’t want to.

Just a simple kiss goodbye, that’s all I wanted. I needed him to know it didn’t have to be overwhelming or scary. But this, this was incredible. Squeezing his arm below the shoulder, it took all my self-control to slow down. My kisses shortened and, as though we were a single person, he responded in kind. I pulled myself away, basking in the warm haze that had formed between us. His eyes flickered blue around his dilated pupils. Intense as it was, this was normal desire, not enthrallment. I felt it, and I knew he felt it too.

But his expression darkened with shame and the warm haze turned to static. What he said next struck a blow.

“I’m sorry, Mia. I can’t be with you. Not like this.”

There was a whooshing in my ears and a sinking in my chest, as though my world was falling apart. I blinked back tears. “What?”

“It’s too much.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head, and he seemed so far away. “I can’t…I just can’t.”

Chapter Sixteen

I cried until nightfall. Lying in bed with the lights on, I tried not to think about Michael, but I couldn’t forget the taste of his lips. Or that look of shame in his eyes. I wanted to focus on reading my Gov/Econ homework, hoping to bore myself to sleep, to escape how repulsive and terrible I felt. I thought he wanted me. I thought it was safe to open up to him. We were meant to be together. But he’d pushed me away, and I couldn’t help but wonder Now what? Was he going to avoid me again, just when he’d finally let me in?

There was a faint tap on the window. Arielle was outside.

“I saw you were awake.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk.” I opened the window anyway and she leapt through it with the grace of a lioness. A light rain had been falling and the drops sat in her hair like jewels, as though she’d been sprinkled with it, not drenched. Her long blazer and T-shirt were mostly dry. When she turned, I noticed vents in the back of her jacket, but I was too nervous to ask where her wings were. She was that intimidating.

She paced my room, taking in the full bookshelf in the corner, the old Ikea armchair, my white dresser and desk. Having her there, I was suddenly glad I kept my room tidy. If she noticed Michael’s jacket next to me on the bed, she didn’t say anything. It smelled like him, and I didn’t want to talk about how that comforted me. I didn’t even want to think about it, in case she could read my mind. After all, if I could hear the angels’ thoughts, it only made sense they could listen to mine. Does that mean Michael can hear me as well?

Suddenly the light around her, which I assumed was her halo, shone, a ring of golden flame. Behind her was the same blue outline I’d seen on Michael the night he fought Damiel. But on Arielle, the outline was even more pronounced, a gossamer grid of blue light extending from above her shoulders to below her knees.

“Wings!” I said a little too loudly then covered my mouth, hoping my mother didn’t hear.