Hannah Jayne - Under Attack

“Is she dead?” I asked softly.

Alex went to her and used a single index finger under Ophelia’s bowed chin to lift her head. I couldn’t bear to look into her eyes and I imagined Alex reverently thumbing them closed.

“Not dead, exactly,” Alex said.

I involuntarily stiffened, wincing as my rib cage protested. Alex hurried to me, carefully sliding his strong arms underneath me, raising me gently to my feet.

“What do you mean, not exactly?”

Alex steadied me and I took a few sharp, shallow breaths—each one making my head spin—and then I looked at him and repeated my question.

“You can’t kill someone”—he glanced over his shoulder, back at Ophelia, as if making certain she was still there—“or something that is already dead.”

I stepped back. “Then she can come back?”

“No, she’s not coming back. The black shadow there? That means she’s been called back.”

“Called back?” I asked. “Where?”

Alex just raised his eyebrows.

“Oh,” I said softly, feeling strangely sad. “She was my sister.”

Alex led me to the employee break room, where he doused a dishtowel in warm water and gently touched it to my face. I winced.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It just stings a little bit.”

“I don’t mean about that,” Alex said, dipping the towel back into the sink.

“I’m sorry I failed you.”

I felt my brow furrow.

“Failed me?”

Alex touched the cool towel to my head again, worked at the dried blood. “I should have been there for you. I should have protected you. I should never have let Ophelia into your life.”

I wrapped my fingers around Alex’s wrist. “This isn’t your fault,” I said sternly.

“If I hadn’t been around, Ophelia would never have known what you are.”

Alex and I sat in silence as he worked the dried blood and dirt from my face. We both stiffened when we heard the clunk of the storeroom door opening, the slap of feet racing down the hall. I was relieved when I saw Nina zip by the break-room door, Vlad and Will right behind her.

“Oh my God!” Nina howled.

Alex helped me to my feet, and when we emerged in the UDA waiting room, Nina—her lips a fresh, healthy blood red, the cuts and bruises already growing faint—was sitting on her knees among the rubble, desperately crying, clutching an Alhambra water jug to her chest and rocking it gently.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” she was murmuring. “We failed you, dear Sophie. Poor, sweet Sophie.”

Alex put one hand respectfully on Nina’s shoulder and crouched down. “Are you sure that’s Sophie?” he asked.

The offense washed over Nina in waves. She looked incredulously at the water bottle and then at Alex. “Of course this is Sophie. I would recognize her anywhere, in any form. Alex, she was my best friend. Our friendship transcends any physical manifestation.” She held out the empty jug. “Look at her. Look at her!” She cuddled the bottle again. “Sophie ...”

“Um, Nina?”

I stepped through the rubble and Nina stiffened. “See?” she said. “If you listen carefully, you can hear her talking. Hello, my Sophie,” she called into the jug. “You may now be an empty Vessel, but you will forever be our Sophie.”

I stomped my foot—then wished I hadn’t, as the pain seared through me. “Hey! It’s me. I’m here.” I picked my way to Nina, Alex, and the jug. “I’m not a jug.”

Nina’s eyes were wide as saucers; Vlad and Will stepped aside.

“We tried to tell her,” Will said.

“Sophie!”

Nina came toward me, flinging the not-me plastic jug aside and throwing her arms around my waist.

“Ow,” I whimpered.

“I’m so glad you aren’t an Alhambra bottle,” she said softly.

“I’m so sorry I let her hurt you,” I said back.

Nina shrugged. “No biggie.”

I patted Alex on the shoulder when he turned toward Ophelia. “I’m sorry about that,” I told him.

I watched Alex’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed slowly. Finally he turned to me, cobalt eyes clouded, and said, “I’m not. She wouldn’t have stopped hunting you, ever. Fallen angels are inflexibly determined in their mission. Obstinate in their evil.”

I pushed a lock of Alex’s dark hair across his forehead. “Not all of them.”

Alex caught my hand and kissed my fingertips. “Right. Not all of us.”

“Hey—how did you find me here?”

Vlad stepped forward. “We pored through all the books.”

“We were on our way to your grandmother’s old place when Alex realized that Ophelia was probably just baiting him—again,” Will said. “It wasn’t my choice of locales, but you heard the man—fallen angels, their mission, blah, blah, blah.”

Will came closer and Alex dropped my hand, the muscle in his jaw flicking as I stood between them. He picked a clod of dirt off my shoulder, flicked it in Will’s general direction. “You really can’t fault someone for taking their life’s mission too seriously.”

Vlad piped up, “I don’t know about you guys, but all of this drama has made me incredibly hungry.” He patted his gut. “I think my blood sugar is low.”

Nina nodded. “I need grease. And fat. I so want to eat a fat guy right now.”

Will blanched and Alex clapped him on the shoulder proudly. “You’ll get used to it.”

The cool night air was heavy with fog, and the city seemed oddly quiet. Alex led me out to the parking lot with Nina, Vlad, and Will in tow, but I felt completely alone. I looked back over my shoulder at the closed door of the San Francisco Police Department and expected to hear Ophelia’s hollow giggle. All I heard was the lonesome whoosh of wind as it pushed the fog toward the bay.

“You’re going to be okay, Lawson,” Alex said, resting his coat on my shoulders. I felt heavy and alien in my own body. When we pulled up in front of my apartment building, we sat in silence for several minutes, watching the traffic pass.

“You ready?”

I twisted my hands in my lap. “I appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, Alex, but I think I would like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

Alex put his hand on my thigh and squeezed gently. It was probably the one part of my body that wasn’t sporting a flower of purple bruises.

He nodded. “Of course. But you promise to call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.”

“Sure.”

I turned as Alex rested his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, about what I said the other day, about me not being around?”

I sat back. “Yeah?”

“It’s not that I—I don’t want to be around. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you—”

I forced a smile; the pain seared all the way through me. “You don’t need to explain.”

“If I could ...”

I took his hand off my shoulder and patted it gently. “I know, Alex. If you could—if there were any way to make this work—you would, right?”

Alex swallowed hard but nodded, avoiding my gaze. “So, are we good?”

“Good friends? Yeah.”

Alex’s head bobbed, and then he turned to me, his blue eyes catching the light. “You know I love you, Lawson.”

I nodded my head. “I know you do, Alex.” I slammed the car door and turned away before he could see the tears welling in my eyes.

I slowly made my way to the apartment vestibule. I was met at the door by Will, who was balancing a pizza in one hand and paying the pizza man with the other. His profile was illuminated in the building’s lights and he had changed into sweatpants and an Arsenal T-shirt. He raised the pizza box when he saw me.

“Hey, love, how you feeling?”

I wagged my head and shrugged. “I don’t really know.”