We’d been there for three hours. My dad and Chay’s parents arrived shortly after we had. I stood in the hallway across from where Chay sat with his head in his hands, just like in my vision. I watched him, biting my nails. He hadn’t said more than a few words to me since we’d arrived, and I didn’t know what to say to him.
I hadn’t had any more visions. I tried to reassure him, telling him that was good.
“Nothing about this is good,” he’d snapped, and then sat silently.
“Dad,” I whispered. “Do you think this has to do with the Evils or demi-demons?”
“Probably.” He didn’t say more.
What is it with the men in my life and one-word answers? It really pisses me off.
I blew out a breath. “Why’d they do this to Chay’s uncle instead of one of us?”
“Retaliation.” I jumped at the sound of Chay’s voice.
“For what?”
“Saving you. He stopped the demon from pulling you into the pit. Azazel’s retaliating.” His voice was hard, hateful.
“Son—”
Chay waved his dad away and stood. “What? It’s true.” He turned his back to me and stalked down the hall.
I didn’t see Chay again that night. Minutes later, the doctor gave a report on Uncle Stewart. He’d suffered smoke inhalation, a concussion from hitting his head on the counter when he fell, and what they suspected was a mild heart attack—but more tests were needed to confirm that diagnosis. Still, the doctor expected a full recovery. My dad and I left after that.
I was relieved that Uncle would be okay.
I was devastated that he almost died because he’d saved me.
I was shattered that Chay blamed me.
***
I lay on my stomach across my bed. My chemistry book and notepad were opened beside me. But instead of working on the assignment, I drew circles across the page. I couldn’t forget the hateful look Chay gave me at the hospital or the cruel way he said I was the reason for the fire.
The doorbell pealed through the house. With a sigh, I tossed my pencil down, shoved my books away from me, and crawled off my bed. The doorbell rang a second time while I was walking toward the stairs.
“I’m coming.” I jogged down stairs and pulled open the door. My limbs turned stiff, and my blood chilled. “What are you doing here?”
Next time, I’ll use the damn peephole.
“We have a date, remember?” My gaze locked on his. It looked friendlier than the night before, but I remembered the accusation I saw there, and it still stung like a stream of angry hornets flowing through my body.
“Really?” My hand on my hip, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was sure it was cancelled. How’s your uncle?”
“He’s good. The doctor was right; he did have a mild heart attack. They’re putting a stent in, but he’s gonna be fine. He said to tell you ‘thank you’.”
“I was only returning the favor. See ya, Chay.” I started to push the door closed. Chay’s arm shot out and blocked it.
“Milayna,” Chay murmured. My name dripped from his tongue like decadent chocolate. “I’m sorry.” He started to reach for me, but he hesitated.
I watched his hand and wished I had laser beams for eyes so I could zap him and cause a tiny bit of the pain he’d caused me. I stared at his hand for a beat before my gaze traveled to his. “Accepted,” I said in a clipped tone, hoping it was it clear I was finished talking. “I have to go. See you in class.” I started to close the door.
“Wait, Milayna—” He stuck his foot between the door and the jamb.
“What?” I made an exaggerated sigh.
“What about chemistry?” He held up his book bag and eyed me. His expression was open, vulnerable, and I almost caved. I wanted to. I wanted to grab him and squeeze him against me. But he’d hurt me and I wasn’t real amenable to a repeat. So I kept my bitch wall firmly in place.
“I’ve already finished.” I almost choked on the lie.
“Fine.” He turned and walked away. I slammed the door behind him.
Jerk.
After Chay left, I sat on my bed thinking.
I thought I was supposed to help people with my visions—to set wrongs right and protect humans from the evil around them. But I nearly got Chay’s uncle killed. How’s that helping?
I grabbed my purse, scrambled off my bed, and ran down stairs. “I’m going to Grandma’s,” I called to my parents and rushed out of the door before they had a chance to ask me why or tell me I couldn’t go.
I sped all the way to my grandma’s apartment, lucky there were no cops around. I was doubly lucky that my beater made it in one piece. It shook and shimmied all the way there. The old motor groaned and coughed.
I pushed through the heavy glass doors into her building, waving at the little old lady behind the reception counter. She had a beehive hairdo that was as tall as she was, but she was nice and had the sweetest smile.
I hurried through reception and into the great room. It was full of chintz chairs and over-stuffed couches. It had a huge stone fireplace separating it from the dining hall, where Mrs. Richardson sat eating dessert with who I guessed were her grandkids.
“Hello, Milayna. I didn’t know you were visiting today,” she said around a bite of lemon meringue pie. Meringue stuck to her upper lip.