Angel's Fury by Bryony Pearce Page B

his waist.
    A striped dressing gown lay in a corner. He swept it up, swung it round his shoulders and yanked the belt tight. Then he dropped on to the mattress next to me. His leg did not quite touch mine, but I could feel the heat of it even through the double layer of towelling.
    My little finger twitched as if to touch him but I held it still. I didn’t dare raise my eyes to his and my gaze flicked around the room looking for something to rest on.
    Suddenly thoughts of Seth’s nearness vanished. His dressing gown had been covering two incredible sculptures. Wanting a closer look I rose to my feet.
    The first seemed simple. It was a badge cast in stone lying on a clump of turf. The sigil itself was stark, a circle containing seven stars and a sort of broken figure eight. I tilted my head and frowned. ‘Is that
Orion
?’ The sign seemed to be following me.Seth followed my eyes. ‘It’s the shoulder insignia of the Twenty-seventh Division of the US army. The original commander was Major General John O’Ryan. Orion, see?’

    I frowned. ‘Did
you
make that?’ Seth shrugged and I took it to mean that he had.
    ‘Why?’ I drifted over to the stone, fingers outstretched.
    He watched me touch the sculpture. ‘I was in the New York National Guard in my life before last. We all joined the Twenty-seventh in 1917.’
    My fingers paused in the act of stroking a blade of grass. ‘Is that who you –’ I groped for the right words – ‘turned into back there?’ I gestured in the vague direction of the pool.
    Seth shook his head and his knuckles whitened on his lap. ‘I don’t want to talk about her.’ His hand brushed the hair that covered his scar. ‘It makes me feel like I used to . . . before.’
    ‘Before what?’
    He drew his legs up. ‘When I was younger. Look, I really don’t want to discuss it.’
    He looked so vulnerable that I figured the ghost, whoever she was, still lingered somehow. I looked away, wrestling with the desire to prise more information out of him and my attention went to the other sculpture.
    It was brilliant. A beautiful girl was half mired in the stone as if climbing out, or perhaps being absorbed back inside. Instead of filling in every detail, Seth had managed to only hint at certain things: the curve of her eyebrow, the line of her spine, the subtle grace of her fingers. Somehow that made her all the more lifelike. And she was somehow familiar.
    ‘Who’s that?’
    Seth blushed. ‘It’s no one. Just a dream.’
    I turned from her to him. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve
ever
just dreamed.’
    ‘I know what you mean.’ He sagged. ‘With all these past lives,I don’t know how much space there is for normal dreams.’
    ‘So maybe she’s someone from a past life?’
    ‘Maybe.’ He cleared his throat, swung his feet off the bed and headed to his wardrobe. ‘Here, take any you like.’ He opened the door with a bit of a flourish and I gawked. Despite the carpet of clothes on the floor the wardrobe was stuffed and, beneath the hangers of designer shirts, Seth had a whole library of DVDs.
    Then I saw the titles and burst out laughing. ‘You weren’t kidding when you said you could lend me light entertainment.’ I knelt in front of the range and read a few of them out. ‘
Porkys
?
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
?
American Pie
?’
    Seth pursed his lips. ‘What were you expecting?’ He leaned over my shoulder and grunted as if he was seeing the selection for the first time.
    My finger traced the colourful boxes. ‘Can I borrow this one?’
    He checked my choice and smiled. ‘
Blackadder
? Sure. One’s missing, hang on.’
    He rolled over the bed to open his own DVD player and a series-three disc popped out. I slotted it into the box set. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’
    He shook his head. ‘It’s not like I’ve nothing else to watch. I fancy
That 70s Show
tonight anyway.’
    I brandished my prize. ‘Thanks.’
    Seth grimaced. ‘I don’t know about you, but I never