“Hello,” I said nervously.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He smirked. “I’m Kirk.”
“Nice to meet you.” I didn’t meet his gaze. Something about his attitude made me uneasy.
“Anyone ever told you you’ve got a pretty sweet rack?” Kirk asked. The boys behind him sniggered.
“Excuse me?” I didn’t understand what he meant.
“I’d like to get to know you better—if you know what I mean.” Kirk took a step toward me. I immediately darted away from him. “Don’t be shy, honey,” he said.
“I have to get to class.”
“Sure you can’t spare a few minutes?” He said in a leering drawl. “I’m only after a quickie.” He took hold of my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Ooh, feistier than she looks.” Kirk laughed and tightened his grip.
“Take your hands off her.” I breathed a sigh of relief as Xavier stepped in front of me, tall and reassuring. I drew instinctively closer to him, relishing the safety of his presence. His hair was pushed away from his face. His familiar turquoise eyes were narrowed with anger.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” said Kirk, dropping his hand. “This isn’t any of your business.”
“Her business is my business.”
“Oh, yeah? You think you can stop me?”
“Touch her again and see what happens,” Xavier warned.
“You wanna make something of this?”
“That’s your call.” Xavier pulled off his blazer and rolled up his sleeves. His school tie hung loose, and I saw the crucifix sitting just in the hollow of his throat. The fabric of his school shirt strained against the sculpted muscles in his arms. He was significantly broader in the chest than Kirk, and I saw the other boy do a quick evaluation of his strength.
“Let it go, man,” one of his friends advised and then lowered his voice. “That’s Xavier Woods.”
This seemed to act as a deterrent for Kirk.
“Whatever.” He spit on the ground, threw me a filthy look, and stalked away.
Xavier wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I drew close to him, breathing in his clean, crisp scent.
“Some people really need to be taught some manners,” he said disdainfully. I stared up at him.
“Would you really have gotten into a fight for me?”
“Of course.” He didn’t hesitate.
“But there were four of them.”
“Beth, I’d take on Megatron’s army to protect you.”
“Who?”
Xavier shook his head and laughed.
“I keep forgetting we have different reference points. Let’s just say, I’m not scared of four little punks.”
Xavier didn’t know much about angels, but he knew about people. He knew what they wanted far better than I did and therefore could better judge who to trust and who to keep at a safe distance. I knew that Ivy and Gabriel still worried about the ramifications of our relationship, but I felt that Xavier supplied me with a strength and belief in myself that made me stronger for whatever my role in our mission was meant to be. Although he didn’t really understand the nature of our job on earth, he was suddenly conscious of not distracting me from it. At the same time, his concern for my well-being bordered on obsession as he worried about even the littlest things, like my energy level.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I reminded him one day in the cafeteria. “Despite what Gabriel thinks, I can take care of myself.”
“I’m just doing my job,” he replied. “By the way, have you had lunch today?”
“I’m not hungry. Gabriel always cooks a big breakfast.”
“Here, eat this,” he commanded and pushed a health bar across the table. As an athlete, he always seemed to have an endless supply at any given time. The label told me this one contained cashews, coconut, apricots, and seeds.
“I can’t eat this; it’s got birdseed in it!”
“Those are sesame seeds and they’re full of energy. I don’t want you burning out.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because your blood sugar is probably low—so don’t argue.”
Sometimes it was easier not to argue with Xavier when his objective was taking care of me.
“All right, Mother,” I said, biting into the chewy bar. “By the way, this tastes like cardboard.”
I rested my head on his strong tanned arms, reassured as always by his solidity.
“Sleepy?” he asked.
“Phantom snored right through the night, and I didn’t have the heart to kick him out.”
Xavier sighed and patted my head. “You’re too nice for your own good sometimes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve only taken one bite out of that bar. Now eat up.”
“Xavier, please, someone might hear you!”
He picked up the bar and waved it through the air making a whistling noise with his mouth. “It’ll be a lot more embarrassing if we have to start playing airplanes.”
“What’s airplanes?”
“A game mothers play to get stubborn children to eat.”
I laughed, and he seized the opportunity of flying the health bar straight into my mouth.
Xavier loved to tell stories about his family and I loved to listen. Whenever he spoke, I found myself enormously distracted by him. Lately his anecdotes revolved around his eldest sister’s upcoming wedding. I often interrupted with questions, hungry for the details he omitted. What color were the bridesmaids’ dresses? What was the name of the young cousin who had been recruited as ring bearer? Who was in favor of a band over a string quartet? Would the bride’s shoes be white satin? Whenever he couldn’t answer, he would promise to find out for me.
As I ate, Xavier explained how his mother and sister were currently butting heads over the wedding arrangements. His sister Claire wanted a ceremony in the local botanical gardens, but his mother said it was too “primitive.” The Woods family were parishioners of Saint Mark’s, and had a long-standing association with the church. Mrs. Woods wanted the wedding held there. During the recent spat, she had threatened not to attend at all if it wasn’t going to be celebrated in a House of God. According to her, vows not exchanged in a sanctified place weren’t even valid. So they’d compromised—the ceremony would be held at the church and the reception at a beachside pavilion. Xavier chuckled as he told me the story, amused by the irrational antics of the females in his family. I couldn’t help thinking how well his mother would get along with Gabriel.
Sometimes I felt removed from this part of Xavier’s life. It was like he was living a double life: one he shared with his family and friends, and then his deep attachment to me.
“Do you ever think we don’t belong together?” I asked, propping my chin on my hands and trying to read his face.
“No, I don’t,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “Do you?”
“Well, I know this wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone upstairs slipped up big time.”
“We are not a mistake,” Xavier insisted.
“No, but I’m saying that we’ve gone against fate. This wasn’t what they planned for us.”
“I’m glad about the mix-up, aren’t you?”
“I am for me. . . .”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to become a burden for you.”
“You’re not a burden. You’re infuriating sometimes and you don’t listen to advice, but you’re never a burden.”
“I am not infuriating.”
“I forgot to add that you aren’t the best judge of character either, including your own.”
I ruffled his hair, relishing its silkiness on my fingers. “Do you think your family would like me?” I asked.
“Of course. They trust my judgment about most things.”
“Yes, but what if they thought I’m weird.”
“They’re not like that, but why don’t you find out? Come over and meet them this weekend. I’ve been m
eaning to ask you.”
“I’m not sure,” I hedged. “I’m not comfortable around new people.”
“They’re not new,” he said. “I’ve known them my whole life.”
“I meant new to me.”
“They’re a part of who I am, Beth. It’d mean a lot to me if they got to meet you. They’ve heard enough about you.”
“What have you told them?”
“Just how good you are.”
“I’m not that good or we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Girls who are all good have never really appealed to me. So you’ll come?’
“I’ll think about it.”
I had hoped he would ask and I wanted to say yes but part of me feared feeling different from them. After what I’d heard about his conservative mother, I didn’t want to be judged. Xavier read my face.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“If your mother’s religious, she might recognize a fallen angel when she sees one.” It sounded pretty stupid once I’d said it aloud.
“You aren’t a fallen angel. Do you have to be so melodramatic?”
“I’m fallen compared to Ivy and Gabriel.”
“Well, I hardly think my mother’s going to notice. I had to face the God squad, remember? And I didn’t try to squirm my way out of it.”
“You have a point there.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up Saturday around five. Your lit class is about to start—I’ll walk over with you.”
As I was gathering my books, a peal of thunder echoed through the cafeteria and the sunlight streaming through the windows vanished. The sky had darkened and was threatening rain. We had all known the blissful spring weather wouldn’t last, but it was disappointing just the same. The rainy season could be bitter along this part of the coast.
“The rain’s about to hit,” Xavier observed looking at the skies.
“Good-bye, sun,” I moaned.
No sooner had I spoken than the first fat drops began to fall. The skies opened and soon rain was falling in steady sheets, drumming on the cafeteria roof. I watched students sprinting across the quad, shielding their faces with folders. A couple of junior girls stood in the open, allowing themselves to be drenched and laughing hysterically. They would be in trouble when they finally turned up to class soaked. I saw Gabriel heading to the music wing, a troubled expression on his face. The umbrella he held was slanted by the strong wind that had blown up.
“Coming?” Xavier asked.
“Let’s stay and watch the rain for a while. There’s not much going on in lit right now.”
“Is this bad Beth speaking?”
“I think we need to revise your definition of ‘bad.’ Can’t I stay with you for this lesson?”
“And have your brother accusing me of being a bad influence? Not on your life. By the way, I hear there’s a new student, on exchange from London. I think he’s in your class. Aren’t you a bit curious?”
“Not especially. I have everything I need right here.” I ran my finger along his cheek, tracing its smooth contours.
Xavier removed my finger and kissed the tip before planting it firmly back in my lap. “Listen, this kid might be right up your alley. According to the grapevine, he’s been expelled from three schools already, and he’s been sent here to sort himself out. I guess because it’s far away from anything that might get him into trouble. His dad’s some media mogul or something. Interested now?”
“Maybe—just a little.”
“Well, go to class and check him out. Maybe you can help him.”
“Okay, Xavier, but I already have a conscience and it gives me enough of a hard time. I don’t need another one.”
“Love you too, Beth.”
When I looked back on this day later, I would remember the rain and Xavier’s face. That change in the weather also marked a change in our lives; one that none of us could have seen coming. My life on earth up till then had been filled with minor drama and the angst of youth, but I was about to learn that these troubles had been child’s play compared with what found us next. I suppose it served to teach us a lot about what was important in life. I don’t think we could have avoided it; it was part of our story from the very beginning. After all, things had been running relatively smoothly; we were bound to hit a bump. We just didn’t expect it to hit so hard.
The bump came all the way from England and had a name: Jake Thorn.
Dark Prince
Even though it was my most interesting class by a long shot, I wasn’t in the mood for lit. I wanted to spend more time with Xavier; to be separated from him always gave me physical pain, like a cramp in my chest. When we got to the classroom, I tightened my grip on his fingers and pulled him toward me. No matter how much time we spent together, it never seemed to be enough—I always wanted more. When it came to him, I had a ravenous appetite that could never be satisfied.
“It won’t matter if I’m just a few minutes late,” I wheedled.
“Nope,” Xavier said, prying away my fingers that were now clutching his shirtsleeve. “You’re going to be on time.”
“You’ve turned into such a grandma,” I grumbled. He ignored my comment and deposited my books into my arms. These days, he rarely allowed me to carry anything for longer than was necessary. I must have looked so lazy to everyone else, always walking around with Xavier by my side, dutifully carrying my belongings.
“You know, I can carry my own stuff, Xav, I’m not an invalid,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, flashing his adorable half-smile. “But I enjoy being at your disposal.”
Before he could stop me, I locked my arms around his neck and pulled him into an alcove between the lockers. It was his own fault really, standing there with his soft hair flopping over his eyes, his school shirt coming untucked, and the plaited leather band hugging his smooth tanned wrist as if it were a part of him. If he didn’t want to be mauled, he shouldn’t have put himself right in my path.
Xavier dropped his own books and kissed me back forcefully, his hands holding my neck, his body pressed close against mine. The few students hurrying by to classes stared openly at us.
“Get a room,” someone sniped, but I ignored them. For that moment space and time didn’t exist—there was only the two of us in our own personal dimension, and I couldn’t remember where I was or even who I was. I couldn’t distinguish where my being stopped and his began. It made me think of a line from Jane Eyre when Rochester tells Jane he loves her as if she were his own flesh. That was exactly how it felt loving Xavier.
Then he broke away.
“You are very bad, Miss Church,” he said, breathing heavily, a smile playing around his lips. He put on a genteel voice. “And I am powerless when it comes to your charms. Now I believe we are both late for class.”
Luckily for me, Miss Castle wasn’t the sort of teacher to be bothered about punctuality. She handed me a folder as I came in and took a seat at the front of the room.
“Hello, Beth,” she said. “We’re just discussing the introduction to third quarter. I’ve decided to allocate you all a creative writing task to be done with a partner. Together you’ll need to come up with a poem to read to the class on the subject of love, to preface our upcoming study of the great Romantic poets Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Byron. Does anyone have a favorite poem they’d like to share before we start?”
“I do,” said a well-spoken voice from the back of the room. I scanned the faces to identify the speaker who had a distinct English accent. An awed silence fell over the rest of the class. It was the newcomer. Brave of him, I thought, to go out on a limb on his first day. Either that or he was enormously conceited.
“Thank you, Jake!” Miss Castle said enthusiastically. “Would you like to come up here to recite it?”
“Certainly.”
The boy that sauntered to the front of the room was not what I had expected. Something about his appearance made my heart plunge into my stomach. He was
tall and lean, and his straight dark hair reached his shoulders. His cheekbones were sharp, giving him a gaunt, hollow look. His nose drooped slightly at the tip, and his brilliant jade-green eyes gazed out from beneath low-set brows. His lips curled in a permanent sneer. It made him look intolerant of his surroundings.
He was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and a dark tattoo of a serpent wound around his forearm. He was totally unselfconscious about not being in school uniform on his first day. In fact, he had the confident swagger of someone who considers himself above the rules. There was no denying it—he was beautiful. But there was something about him that suggested more than beauty. Was it grace, poise, charm, or something more dangerous?
Jake’s smoldering gaze swept across the classroom. Before I could duck my head, his eyes locked with mine and lingered there. He gave a self-assured smile before beginning.
“ ‘Annabel Lee,’ a ballad by Edgar Allan Poe,” he announced smoothly. “It might interest you to know that Poe married his thirteen-year-old cousin, Virginia, when he was twenty-seven. She died two years later from TB.”
The class stared at him entranced. When he began to speak, his voice seemed to flow out like rich syrup and filled the room. It was the cultured, confident voice of someone used to having things his own way.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,