SEATTLE

8-Calm Before the Storm

Seattle 8

Calm Before the Storm

The demon arrived less than two hours later. His face was tired, drawn. The rest of us were still crowded around the front door. He stopped dead at the sight of us, and the silence hung heavily in the air. Before anyone spoke, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Tension coursed through the air.

"Phoenix," he said suddenly, without opening his eyes. If I had been any less attentive, at that moment I would have focused on him completely. "You smell like him."

"He came to Scoops today," I replied. Even to me, my voice sounded small.

"What's he calling himself these days? Jason? Freddy? Michael?" There was a note of ridicule in Francis's voice as he named the fictional killers.

"Jack," I told him quietly.

The tension left Francis's face for a moment, and he just looked tired. I thought about all the workip these boys had done, staying on Jack's trail from the beginning. Was it just for Liam, or was there more?

Drake's expression was tense; he gripped Ahli's hand as if she were his lifeline. In personality, he seemed to be a player. I wondered if it was only because he'd had too many charges as a guardian angel to afford getting attached to one mortal. With Ahli, however, he never so much as glanced at another girl.

Enrique and Sora, standing together by the door of the kitchen, wore matching expressions of concern mingled with feat. The two were practically inseparable, despite being polar opposites. I remembered my dream, or vision, or whatever it had been. The two of them had been Liam's best friends in London, 123 years ago. A lump formed in my throat as I wondered what would happen if Ahli or Britney were taken away as Liam had been.

Mihael, who had joined us, looked just as on edge. He was biting his lower lip, and I could see tiny fangs protruding. His eyes flickered over all of us, worried, and I was again struck by how much he'd changed since nearly refusing to go after Liam on that cold November night.

Laurent was watching me, as if he weren't convinced that I was unharmed. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were dark with worry. It was so different from his normal, friendly, outgoing manner that it scared me. His skin was pale under his tan. In all the time I'd known the group, I'd never seen him like this.

As usual, emotions battled back and forth across Francis's face--now it was fear and anger. I could practically feel his urge to avenge Liam. His eyes were fixed on me, but it was as if he couldn't really see me. His face was flushed, and his eyes were wild. I wanted to reach out to him, but I was afraid to.

"Francis?" Mihael asked quietly, breaking the silence. Francis didn't seem to hear, but my eyes darted to Mihael, seeing the concern there. Suddenly, all I wanted to the was curl up and hide from the world.

Laurent seemed to sense this and pulled me into himself. For once, I didn't struggle; I just clung to him. My head was spinning, and my knees felt weak.

"Phoenix?" Ahli asked, her voice rising in panic. Instantly, everyone's attention was on me. I blushed for the first time in several weeks.

"I'm fine," I told them.

"Liar," Laurent grunted, putting a hand on my forehead, "You're burning up."

"I'm..." I wanted to say "fine" again, or maybe even "embarrassed," but I couldn't say a word. I just let the word hand in the air, my statement unfinished.

"I'll take her upstairs," Mihael said finally, his voice unusually soft.

He walked over and took my hand. Reluctantly, Laurent released his hold on me. I followed Mihael, suddenly feeling too drained to protest. At the base of the stairs, he picked me up bridal-style. I squawked in protest, but didn't fight him. Moving quickly now, he carried me up the two flights of stairs to my room.