Meg Cabot - Awaken

“Ex-husband,” Mom said like someone in a daze, as John took her by the elbow. “Pierce’s father and I are divorced. But we’re reconciling —”

“What?” I’d shuffled from the bed, wrapped in my comforter, to rifle through my closet in search of something to wear. Hearing the bombshell Mom had just dropped, however, I nearly dropped the comforter.

“We still have a lot of things to work through. Obviously.” Mom shot me another disapproving look, no doubt because she’d seen what I had on beneath the comforter, which wasn’t much. “And the last thing we need right now is to become grandparents, so I hope the two of you are at least using protection.”

I blanched. I’d forgotten all about that particular detail during the storm, what with all the love talk, and the thunder, and the nearly having gotten killed a few hours earlier. What had I been thinking? Or, more accurately, not thinking? Mr. Smith had said he’d never heard of a death deity capable of siring children … but what if that was only because the Underworld was so inhospitable to new life? He’d said nothing of what might happen outside the Underworld.

Fortunately John could not know what she was talking about. They didn’t have protection — at least the reliable kind my mom was referring to — back when he’d been alive.

“It’s all right, Dr. Cabrero,” he said soothingly. The doctor was a nice touch. It made up for all the ma’am s. Mom hated it when boys ma’am ed her. “We’re going to be married, just as soon as your daughter will have me.”

Oh, my God.

“Zack!” my mother began to shout hoarsely. She turned and ran from the bedroom. “Zachary!”

Furious, I let the comforter drop and from the closet ripped the first dress I touched.

“Are you crazy?” I hissed at John, pulling the dress over my head, then searching for a pair of sandals. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

“They’re your parents,” John said. He’d found his shirt and was tugging it on. “They deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth? That I have to live eighteen hundred miles below the earth, with a bunch of dead people, for the rest of eternity? How well do you think that’s going to go over?”

“They love you,” he said, following me as I darted into the hallway and started down the stairs. “They’ll understand.”

“You don’t know my parents,” I said. “I’ve been trying to tell them the truth about you since the day I died and met you, and all it’s gotten me is a lot of appointments with a bunch of shrinks. They are not going to believe the truth about you, and they are not going to let me be with you.”

On the landing, John caught hold of my arm, then turned me around to face him.

“Pierce,” he said, looking down into my eyes and smiling as he smoothed a dark curl of hair from my forehead. “They can’t stop us from being together. And they will believe you. Because I’m here with you. You’re not alone anymore.”

Though my heart was hammering with fear — a worse kind of fear, in a way, than I’d felt when it was Mr. Mueller who’d stepped into Kayla’s car headlights, or when I’d realized Seth was Thanatos — I smiled tentatively back at him.

John was right. My parents couldn’t stop us from being together. So many people had tried — Furies included. But none of them had succeeded.

“Could someone please explain to me what in the hell is going on here?” I heard a familiar voice bellow from the bottom of the stairs.

I looked down and saw my father standing there wearing a short-sleeved undershirt, a pair of dress slacks, and no shoes.

A significant amount of my fear dissipated as I realized I wasn’t the only female member of the household who’d entertained an overnight guest.

“Wow,” I said, as I slipped my hand into John’s and began walking down the stairs with him. “Did you forget the rest of your suit when you came over for breakfast this morning, Dad? And your shoes? And your belt?”

My mom, who was standing next to my dad, began to blush, but her voice was strong as she said, “I wouldn’t crack jokes right now if I were you, young lady. You’re in very big trouble.”

John squeezed my hand, and when I glanced up at him, he frowned. He didn’t approve of my joke, either. I guess my kite strings were getting pulled.

“Sorry,” I said. When we reached the ground floor and stood before my parents, I said, in what I hoped was a suitably chastened tone, pointing to John, “Dad, this is John Hayden. I’m sure you remember him from various security tapes. John, this is my father, Zack Oliviera.”

“Hello, sir.” John extended his hand towards my dad. “I know you haven’t heard very good things about me, but I can assure you I’m very much in love with your daughter.”

Like Mom, Dad ignored John’s hand. He simply stood staring up at him, John being a few inches taller than he was (something I knew Dad wasn’t going to like, if he hadn’t disliked John enough already).

“I don’t care how much you claim to love my daughter,” Dad said evenly. “I have a nine-shot .22 Magnum upstairs in my briefcase. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go get it and shoot out both your knees so you’ll never walk again.”

“Dad!” I cried, horrified, wrapping both my hands protectively around John’s arm.

“Oh, God,” my mother said, looking sick. “Zack, no — this isn’t what I wanted. I’m calling the police.” She moved towards the kitchen to pick up the portable phone.

“You call the police,” John said, never dropping his gaze from my dad’s, “and the Furies will know your daughter is here. They’re the ones who’ve been trying to kill her.”

My dad’s dark eyebrows lowered into an even deeper scowl. “Oh, sure,” he said scornfully. “The Furies. What are they, part of your druggie gang?”

Only then did John break my father’s stare to glance down at me. “Druggie?” he asked uncertainly.

“Dad,” I cried. Now, instead of clinging to John, I threw myself against my father. I thought my body weight would slow him down if he tried to go for the gun. “You have to listen to me. John didn’t kidnap me. He saved me, because Grandma was trying to kill me. You were right about Grandma all along. She’s a Fury.”

Mom laid down the phone in exasperation. “Now I’ve heard everything. You’re trying to say your grandmother is in a gang?”

“No,” I said desperately. “Well, yes. The Furies aren’t a gang … at least, not the kind you’re thinking of. John isn’t in a gang, either. And he’s not a drug dealer or a death metal goth head.” I sent my mother a narrow-eyed glance, but she appeared to have no memory of ever using that term to describe him. She, along with my father, was listening to me intently. “I’ve been trying to tell you guys for two years what he is, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to believe it myself, but I’m ready now. He’s a death deity. I met him when I died and went to his world … the Underworld.”

Mom pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh, Pierce,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

I didn’t think they were tears of happiness. In fact, I was sure she thought I was losing my mind.

“It’s true,” I said. “He sorts the souls of the recently deceased and sends them to their final destinations. Here, see, he gave me this necklace.” I pulled my diamond from the bodice of my sundress and showed it to my father. “Mom, you’ve seen it before, remember? You asked me where I got it right after I had my surgery. I said it was a gift. Well, it was a gift. John gave it to me when I met him in the Underworld. It protects me. The diamond turns colors when there’s a Fury around, and when I touch a Fury with it, it kills it. It was originally mined by Hades to give to Persephone —”