seemed to glow a rich gold for a moment.
Petyr breathed in sharply. He fought back an urge to bolt and then took another breath before saying, “Who are you?”
“I told you.” The warm smile on his face was infuriating. “I’m Malachi.”
Petyr fought back the urge to scream and said thinly, “What are you?”
“I guess that’s the real question, then, isn’t it.” Malachi looked terribly sad for a moment, and then he took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m getting pretty cold. Why don’t we go to a café, get some coffee, and talk about it?”
Petyr nodded. They’d only taken two steps before a voice stopped them.
Damien snarled, kicking the wall in the small cell before resuming his pacing. There was only so long to go until he had to be released, and he was already close to breaking point. He’d been told that his house had been searched, his laptop had been seized and that Nessie had been taken to a friend’s house. His laptop. They thought he was a pedophile. He laughed softly. H e didn’t want to touch children; he wanted to kill them.
They’d find nothing. He’d done nearly all his research about the crossroads using actual books, the kind with paper and ink. He’d disposed of all bloody clothes and had scrubbed for hours. But still, if the police were that intent on finding things, there could always be something he had left, something he hadn’t hidden, something he’d overlooked.
What would happen if he didn’t get the souls, if he didn’t kill anyone? Would Nessie get worse? Drastically worse? What if she ended up in hospital again? She had said that she would refuse treatment this time. What if she died?’
The questions whirled in his mind. He didn’t care about much anymore, but his daughter; she was the only joy left. He didn’t think he could handle it if she died. He didn’t want eternal life if he would have to live it without his daughter. He’d done everything for her, all of the killing, all of the blood. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. The first few had been for his daughter, certainly, but the joy he felt with later victims was his own.
He banged his fists against the metal bars, growling.
“You can’t keep me here!” He kicked the bars and slumping down on the metal bunk welded to the wall.
Then he heard them. They were back. He held his head in his hands as the voices flooded his mind, beginning to scream and shout. They wanted blood. They wanted the dead. They were getting impatient.
“Mia!” I heard Petyr shout gleefully as I came in, kicking off my shoes and dropping my school bag, my mind reeling.
I walked in, and was startled to see a boy with him. “I… hello?” I asked and stood in the doorway, my eyes darting between them, and then it clicked.
“Malachi! You’re…you’re an angel. Aren’t you? An angel?” I sat down on the sofa, leaning towards him.
Malachi looked startled and nodded. “Yes… how did you know that?”
Petry looked shocked. “I’ve been talking for hours trying to find out about him. You walk in and…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. God, he looked so cute!
“You’re Malachi. I saw you in my dreams, at least I heard your name. Michael spoke it, and he sent another angel to earth, a…damn! I forgot her name.”
“Her name is Miss Gilbert.” I turned and saw Ethan Miller. He stood in the doorway looking grim. He was a football player, and he’d never been to my house before. He nodded at Malachi, who inclined his head. “I guess Petyr is here somewhere, too.”
I was shocked, unable to respond. Malachi wasn’t. “He’s sitting on the sofa.”
“How do you know about—”
“He’s a wolf, Mia.”
I looked at the angel boy. “What?”
“Werewolf.” It was Ethan, and I turned back to him.
“God, shut up. I don’t need any crap right now.”
Suddenly Petyr
Petyr breathed in sharply. He fought back an urge to bolt and then took another breath before saying, “Who are you?”
“I told you.” The warm smile on his face was infuriating. “I’m Malachi.”
Petyr fought back the urge to scream and said thinly, “What are you?”
“I guess that’s the real question, then, isn’t it.” Malachi looked terribly sad for a moment, and then he took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m getting pretty cold. Why don’t we go to a café, get some coffee, and talk about it?”
Petyr nodded. They’d only taken two steps before a voice stopped them.
Damien snarled, kicking the wall in the small cell before resuming his pacing. There was only so long to go until he had to be released, and he was already close to breaking point. He’d been told that his house had been searched, his laptop had been seized and that Nessie had been taken to a friend’s house. His laptop. They thought he was a pedophile. He laughed softly. H e didn’t want to touch children; he wanted to kill them.
They’d find nothing. He’d done nearly all his research about the crossroads using actual books, the kind with paper and ink. He’d disposed of all bloody clothes and had scrubbed for hours. But still, if the police were that intent on finding things, there could always be something he had left, something he hadn’t hidden, something he’d overlooked.
What would happen if he didn’t get the souls, if he didn’t kill anyone? Would Nessie get worse? Drastically worse? What if she ended up in hospital again? She had said that she would refuse treatment this time. What if she died?’
The questions whirled in his mind. He didn’t care about much anymore, but his daughter; she was the only joy left. He didn’t think he could handle it if she died. He didn’t want eternal life if he would have to live it without his daughter. He’d done everything for her, all of the killing, all of the blood. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. The first few had been for his daughter, certainly, but the joy he felt with later victims was his own.
He banged his fists against the metal bars, growling.
“You can’t keep me here!” He kicked the bars and slumping down on the metal bunk welded to the wall.
Then he heard them. They were back. He held his head in his hands as the voices flooded his mind, beginning to scream and shout. They wanted blood. They wanted the dead. They were getting impatient.
“Mia!” I heard Petyr shout gleefully as I came in, kicking off my shoes and dropping my school bag, my mind reeling.
I walked in, and was startled to see a boy with him. “I… hello?” I asked and stood in the doorway, my eyes darting between them, and then it clicked.
“Malachi! You’re…you’re an angel. Aren’t you? An angel?” I sat down on the sofa, leaning towards him.
Malachi looked startled and nodded. “Yes… how did you know that?”
Petry looked shocked. “I’ve been talking for hours trying to find out about him. You walk in and…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. God, he looked so cute!
“You’re Malachi. I saw you in my dreams, at least I heard your name. Michael spoke it, and he sent another angel to earth, a…damn! I forgot her name.”
“Her name is Miss Gilbert.” I turned and saw Ethan Miller. He stood in the doorway looking grim. He was a football player, and he’d never been to my house before. He nodded at Malachi, who inclined his head. “I guess Petyr is here somewhere, too.”
I was shocked, unable to respond. Malachi wasn’t. “He’s sitting on the sofa.”
“How do you know about—”
“He’s a wolf, Mia.”
I looked at the angel boy. “What?”
“Werewolf.” It was Ethan, and I turned back to him.
“God, shut up. I don’t need any crap right now.”
Suddenly Petyr
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