Angelbound

“Well, I was wondering if you knew any of the diplomats from those days. The quasi guys in particular?”


The woman swallows, then slowly turns to face me. She eyes me carefully. “Are you…Are you?” My heart beats so quickly, I think it will explode.

I grab her wrist. “Do I look like someone? Who? A diplomat?”

“Are you the floor show?” She points to my dress. “What’s that Muppet’s name again? Fozzie Bear?”

“No, I’m not the floor show.” I bite my lips together. “Excuse me.”

Clearly, it’s time for a new party survival plan.

Setting aside the quest to find my father, I discover that if I stand under a balcony, the shadows hide my orange-ness. An extra bonus is that no one can see me and/or make Muppet comments. I’ve hoarded a pile of canned soda and sugary snacks on a nearby table. My night is full.

In fact, I’m having a sweet time when two figures step into the darkness beside me.

Squinting in the dim light, I size up the pair of strangers. The first man is older, tall and burly with long white hair past his chin. He wears a classic tuxedo that matches the one on the figure beside him. The second stranger is a boy with broad shoulders and a rigid military stance. His hair is shorter, earthy brown and loose. Since it’s super quiet under the balcony, I can’t help but listen in.

Okay, maybe I could help it, but I’m a little curious and a lot bored.

“I don’t understand why we’re here, father.” It’s the boy.

“More orders from the angels, son.” The older man has a deep and rolling voice. “They want closer relations between the realms.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Angels? Closer relationships between the realms? Maybe we really are on the edge of a new era. I smile, thinking about a ghoul-free life where I choose my own job, clothes, anything. The boy speaks, interrupting my thoughts.

“I understand. What should I do?”

“Try to socialize; meet some quasis in particular.” The father’s eyes glimmer in the shadows. His irises are mismatched: one blue and one brown.

They’re thrax. High-fives to Miss Thing for actually teaching something useful.

“Quasis aren’t people,” snaps the boy. “They’re demons.”

What?! My hands clench into fists. Actually, we’re mostly human, thank you very much.

“Angels say they’re different. Try to keep an open mind.” The father points to the dance floor where Cissy shimmies up and down Zeke’s thigh. “Take that girl, for example. Why don’t you ask her to dance? She seems quite, uh, friendly.”

I roll my eyes. What an old-guy thing to say. Sure, Cissy’s a little over the top right now, but she’s been dreaming of this night since she was nine. I glance at my friend and smile. Cissy looks absolutely blissed out. Maybe a wee bit slutty as she paws Zeke’s abs during the mambo, but who cares? She’s eighteen; it’s her job to be stupid.

The boy folds his arms over his chest. “That quasi has a dog’s tail and acts like one in heat.”

My blood simmers with anger. What an ASSHOLE-GUY thing to say!

The boy grips his fist behind his back. “Besides father, you know I’m no diplomat.”

You think?!

“Where’s my best soldier?” The older man punches his son’s upper arm. “I know I can rely on you for this mission.”

The boy nods briskly. “Of course.”

“That’s my boy.” Grinning broadly, the father marches off into the crowd and starts glad-handing a pack of ghoul diplomats.

I sip the rest of my soda, glaring at the boy’s silhouette. My inner demon begins to stir. I imagine wagging my finger in his face, screaming the differences between demons and quasis. Or even better, I could leap beside him and land one good kick behind his kneecaps. I’m so distracted that instead of setting my empty soda can back on the table, I drop it to the floor with a crash.

Turning on his heel, the boy steps to my side. “Are you alright, Miss?” Up close, I can see that he’s my age with mismatched eyes, one wheat-brown and the other slate-gray. His face is square with a strong jaw and scooped-out cheeks. For some reason, I can’t stop staring at his full mouth, wondering what it would be like to brush my lips against his. He looks mighty tasty indeed.

Wait a minute. Me thinking about kissing anybody? When does that happen?

Pull yourself together, Myla. You downed too many candy bars, that’s all. Clearly, this is some kind of sugar-induced hallucination.

I take a deep breath, refocusing my sugary brain on how this dirt-bag insulted Cissy. “I’m fine.” My voice comes out low and sharp. “I dropped an empty can, that’s all.”

Christina Bauer's books