Monday, I overslept. I was standing over the kitchen sink, gulping down cereal, when my dad walked in.
“I have to stay home to meet the insurance adjuster about the garage. You want to cut school and have lunch with your old man?”
“I probably should go to school… but yeah, I don’t want to. I’d rather have lunch with an angel.”
My dad laughed. “Good. It’s a date.”
After the adjuster came, looked around the garage, and asked a million and one stupid questions, it was one o’clock. My dad took me to my favorite restaurant for lunch. They had the best hamburgers in the state.
“How come the demons never try to come into the house?” I took a bite of my olive burger and groaned. It was so good.
“Our houses are protected from them.”
“Like with a magic spell?” I looked at him over the rim of my milkshake. The restaurant might have the best burgers, but the milkshakes weren’t nearly as good as Chay’s uncle’s were.
“Yeah. They can come into the house, but they lose their powers. That’s one reason the demi-demons and Evils are always starting fights.” He took a big bite of his fried-egg burger, and the yellow yolk oozed between the slices of bun. I almost gagged. Ick.
“I don’t get it. What does fighting have to do with our houses being protected?”
“If they can pull us away from the house long enough, they might be able to find a way to break through the protective barrier.” He took a swig of Coke and stole an onion ring off my plate.
“Makes sense, I guess. You said that was one reason? What else?”
“Well, they use the fights to distract us and give the demons a chance to grab the person they’re after—”
“Yeah, I remember from the football game.” I shuddered.
“And they fight to weaken the group. Between the constant fights and the visions, the emotional and physical stress starts to take its toll and you become weaker. And that gives them an opportunity to complete their first objectives—break the protective barrier and grab their target.” He took another bite of his disgusting egg-covered hamburger. Yellow slime dripped onto his plate.
“Hmm, they’re busy bastards, aren’t they?” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. I just swore in front of my dad… so not cool. He cocked an eyebrow at my slip. “Sorry.”
“Eh, that’s okay.” He waved off my words with a flick of his hand. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Dad, I need to tell you… I… um, I’m sorry I got so mad at you about this whole angel thing. I love you, even if you are a freak.” I smiled at him, and he laughed.
“I love you too. And I’m sorry it was sprung on you the way it was. I was hoping to ease into it, but things started moving too fast.”
“It’s okay. We’re good, right?”
“Of course we are,” he said with a nod. “A little thing like a pack of demons isn’t going to come between us.”
“Nope, no demon is coming between us, but if you don’t leave my onion rings alone, we’re gonna have some major trouble,” I said with a laugh when he stole another ring.
When we got home after lunch, I went straight to my bedroom and crashed. He was right. The constant visions, fights, nightmares, and stress were taking a toll. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
I slept until my mom woke me up for dinner that evening.
***
By Tuesday, I felt better and that afternoon, I let out more stress and frustration at swim practice. I swam as hard as I could. I loved how it felt when my body sliced through the water, how my muscles burned when I pushed myself to go faster, farther. I beat my best time. I guess swimming when demons were chasing me was good for my game.
When practice was done, I stayed in the pool, floating, listening to the whooshing the water made when it filled my ears. Flipping my swim cap off, I let my hair float around me, closing my eyes and relaxing my muscles. I wanted to stay there forever, or at least until the Azazel crap was over.
“Outta the pool, Jackson,” my coach yelled just before she started flipping the lights off.
“Want to stake out the clearance racks at the mall?” Muriel asked when I walked into the locker room.
“Sure,” I said, but I was starting to feel lightheaded. The room started to tilt, and the lockers spun around me.
“Milayna? Are you having a vision?”
“I don’t know. I think so. It’s… different.”
I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt sweat mix with the pool water and snake down my back. My hands were slick with it. It broke out on my forehead, running down the side of my face.
Muriel’s voice sounded distorted and far away. I braced a hand against the lockers to steady myself. The room faded even more, and then the vision broke through.
A man. His back is to me. A gray figure laughing.
I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged them, willing the vision to give me more information. Show me more of the person.
Shaking hands. One white, the other a sickly gray. The sound of laughter.