Quinn pressed her fists to her eyes to stop the flow of tears. Hollowness seeped into her.
“I want to watch them,” she blurted.
“Watch what?”
“Them drag.” All anyone was likely to find was the bloated, white flesh of a boy she used to know, but her heart couldn’t let it go. Not yet. If Aaron was dead, why did she have such a gnawing feeling that he needed her?
“I don’t think …”
“For closure. What time are they starting?” Quinn tucked the phone between her shoulder and cheek and grabbed a pair of yoga pants from the pile of clean clothes stacked on her dresser.
Reese sighed deep and long before replying. “Sometime around noon.”
“Okay. That gives me time to get to the gym before I swing by and pick you up.”
“What? No. You need to go to school. With me. You remember school, don’t you? That place where all your friends go every day? Come with me, and we’ll go together after.”
It was the same thing every day. Reese insisted she come back to school, and Quinn refused. Guilt stabbed at her gut, but she couldn’t face the crowded halls and sidelong looks, not yet. “I’m not ready.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Reese hung up before Quinn could even inhale for a response. Crap. Alienating everyone she loved and making things worse, that was Quinn’s true gift. A few minutes ago, she had wanted nothing more than to be alone, to think through everything that had happened, but now all she wanted was her best friend. Angry tears slid down her cheeks. If she could have punched herself in the face, she would.
You can’t have it both ways, Quinn.
Quinn: I’m sorry.
Her fingers typed and hovered over the Send button. Two words never looked so hollow, so inadequate. Each letter disappeared with the press of the back button.
Quinn: I know, I suck. I’ll try to suck less, I promise. Please meet me there at four. I can’t do this without you.
Send.
4
Quinn wiped sweat from her brow, hung the jump rope back on the hook, and dropped to the floor. “Eye of the Tiger” blared from the gym speakers as she counted off a hundred push-ups. She loved how quiet the gym was between the pre-work crowd and those who spent their lunch hour on the long line of treadmills. Nobody to stare at her or to whisper and point at the one who’d caused Aaron Collier to jump in to save her only to lose his own life. The whole town praised Marcus and Aaron as heroes and looked at her with downcast eyes. What do you say to the girl whose death was traded for another’s?
Rolling on her back, she crunched her way through her usual twenty-minute ab workout. Preparing for the final part of her torture, an hour of kickboxing, she pulled a pair of gloves over her hands and faced her target. The heavy bag, covered in red vinyl, hung from a chain in the ceiling. Here it was just her, her grief, and the waiting shadows. That’s the way she liked it.
Gritting her teeth, she dropped her protective barrier and slammed a fist into the bag, basking in the pain.
Aaron kissing her beneath the stars.
Two more jabs in quick succession.
The look on his face when he found her with Jeff.
Another hard roundhouse left her ankle aching and probably bruised. Good.
Singing songs he’d written just for her.
Left hook.
Something moved in the corner of the gym, and the temperature dropped.
Right cross.
Regret and anger drew the demons out of hiding like mosquitoes looking for blood. Their dark essences reminded her of the moment before a storm, electric and dangerous.
Jab, jab, jab.
Tendrils of familiar fog coiled around the bag, swathing it in thick, gray strands. A side kick with the heel of her foot sent the heavy bag swinging in a wide arch, the smoke twisting and writing around it like a web struck by a broom.
Three dark shapes inched closer, materializing from the dissipating fog. Six pairs of orange eyes glowed in their small, feline-like bodies. Saliva dripped from their fangs; air rushed around their wings. Let them come, she thought, not even trying to keep them out.
Quinn dodged to the right and came at the bag from behind, landing another hard blow with her fist.
Killer. One demon materialized on her shoulder and hissed against her ear; its sulphur-laced breath so strong she gagged. It understood her secret, her shame. With it, she didn’t need to hide.
Azrael would not approve. How long would it take before their bond alerted him to her danger? One minute? Ten? He’d been called away on some secret mission to the angelic city of Arcadia, and she’d promised to lay low. If he even got a whiff of what she was up to, he would drop everything and return to her side.
One monster dug its claws into the red vinyl and hung upside-down, its forked tongue licked at the air to slurp at the negative emotion pouring from her.
Screw Azrael. This was her life, her powers. She could use them any way she wanted. Quinn aimed a right cross for the center of its body, but the demon blinked out before she made contact.
Another beast flew in.
That’s right, you bastards. Come on. Anger, regret, shame, she gave it all to them as they crawled inside her mind and magnified the bleakness living inside.
Left hook.
It disappeared in a puff of smoke before she could hit it.
So guilty. So much pain. We want it all. Give us more.
Two more roundhouse kicks, an uppercut, four jabs.
Another echo of laughter.
You never loved him.
Quinn slammed another fist into the bag. That was a lie. She had loved him, enough to let him go, to keep him from the demons, from her crazy.
You were a coward. You took the easy road and look where that led.
The demons blinked and spiraled around the heavy bag, leaving long trails of gray wisps behind them. Each dodging her blows, magnifying her frustrations, and growing fat from her pain. Hungry, so hungry. They would never get enough.
He’s dead, and you’re alive. It should have been you at the bottom of that river. If it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t jumped, he wouldn’t have been in the water that night. You should have died, yet you live, and he’s gone.
All three converged in the center of her line of sight, a dark triangle of evil hanging in mid-air. Demons like these had urged her into the water, pecked at her hands, and forced her under the waves. They had pushed her into Jeff’s arms, made her believe that letting Aaron go would keep him safe, that choosing Jeff would make them go away. If she had listened to her heart instead of their lies, if she had been stronger, maybe Aaron would still be here. Azrael was right; they didn’t have any answers. She was guilty, but so were they, and she would make them pay.
Quinn pulled her arm back and slammed her fist through them. It hit the bag with a sickening crunch. Pain flooded her hand. The demons laughed and danced while Quinn gritted her teeth and ignored the numbness spreading down her fingers. Right cross, front kick, side, kick, dodge left, punch left. Her breaths grew ragged, the room swam, but she kept lashing out, pouring her whole self into more punishing blows. The demons dodged and weaved between impacts, gorging on her frustrations. Sweat dripped into her eyes; she wiped it away with a gloved hand.
“Hey, Blondie, I think that bag has had enough punishment for today.” Two strong hands attached to a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Annoying grabbed the bag and stopped it swinging. She’d seen him before at the reception desk, cleaning equipment, and occasionally training a girl with short brown hair whose outfits got skimpier every workout.