Pulse

Chapter 12

Cian

There was one place I always went when I needed to be alone. It had a view of the bay, and was close enough to it that the smell of seawater wafted through the air. Its high elevation not only helped my vantage point of the activity below me, but simultaneously created a quiet, almost solitary place, somewhere I could clear my head amidst the calls of seagulls and the crash of the waves on the shore. It was the roof outside my bedroom, and easily accessed: a flip of the window lock, a good shove upwards, and a nimble climb over my desk was all it took.

The breeze from the bay nipped at my light jacket and wrinkled the jeans I wore. I could feel it on my skin, a cold and light kiss on the inside of my wrist. With a sigh, I buried my face in my knees. I couldn't shake the look on Lucie's face from my stubborn brain.

I didn't know what to do.

I liked the way Lucie looked when she was smiling, when she was happy, and I had just taken that all away. I consoled myself by allowing myself to believe it was better that I'd told her the truth, but it didn't matter in the end. What mattered now was that Lucie would likely never to speak to me again, and she had every reason not to.

Something hummed beneath my shoulder blades, and too tired to fight it, I let it go. My wings unfurled from underneath my skin like caged birds freshly freed. This was another plus of being alone; I could be myself, stop hiding what made me me.

Enough time had passed that I no longer remembered what it had been like when I wasn't an angel, when I didn't have wings to carry me and draw power from. I sighed again into the salty air and encircled my wings around myself like a cloak. He's dead. There's nothing else you can do, Cian. He's dead.

That wasn't it, though, was it? I'd grabbed Lucie's wrist, and I'd seen something, something out of place. A scar ran to her inner elbow, puffy and pink, as if the injury had happened recently. Maybe it was nothing, but as I sat there in the darkness my wings had created, I doubted it. There was more to this, more to her, more to everything.

"Cian, stop being emo."

I recognized the voice, and let my wings flutter back to see better. Vinny was seating himself beside me on the roof, and so my alone time was therefore over, and I should have expected as much. When you had a fixed place you liked to be, it didn't take long for other people to figure it out.

My little brother looked at me, his hair like spun gold. Despite the breeze, it didn't move about his face as mine did. "Any reason you're hanging out here and not in the living room?" he exhaled. "I tried to get Mom and Dad to change the TV channel, but they freaked out when I started pushing buttons on the remote. Interesting factoid, actually: We no longer have a television remote."

I glanced at him with a risen eyebrow. "What?"

Vinny's smile was rueful. "Mom screamed and chucked it across the room. It broke in half and Dad cursed for about five minutes straight."

"Hmm," I said, and laid my head down on my folded arms, gnawing at my sleeve. "That sucks."

"Answer my question," urged Vinny, turning his whole body to face me. The breeze blew by again, and the coldness Vinny's presence brought along with it made me shiver. "What are you doing out here? Is something bothering you? Something looks like it's bothering you."

"I'm fine, Vince."

"Don't give me all that gobbledygook," Vinny replied, and this time the look I gave him was of mild amusement. He rolled his eyes at me and directed his gaze toward the bay. "You only come here when something's bothering you. Not to mention you're being oddly quiet and you have your wings out."