Wicked Kiss. Michelle Rowen

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      Chapter 8

      I might be seventeen years old, but watching my mother leave for the airport in a taxi still made me choke up like a little kid.

      “Call me if there are any problems.” She gave me a big hug in the driveway. I clung tight to her before finally letting go. “I’m sure you and Cassandra will be fine here without me, but no parties, okay?”

      I just nodded, my throat tight.

      I hadn’t said a word to try to stop her. Even though I hated how Cassandra had magically coerced her to leave town, I knew it was for the best. She’d be safer away from here for a week. And she was so excited about the trip, how could I spoil it for her?

      There had always been something stopping her from taking this dream vacation. A husband who didn’t like to travel (unless it was permanent, and in the direction of his new girlfriend), a kid who always had anxiety attacks on airplanes (that was me—I hate being trapped in small spaces, especially three miles above the ground), and then a job that barely allowed her any time off.

      So I was happy for her. Really.

      But standing there, watching the taxi drive away down the street, the realization that I was really alone sank in deep. Even though we didn’t always get along so well, she represented my normal life. And soon she’d be five thousand miles away.

      “I need to go,” Cassandra told me after I went back inside, out of the cold, and ate a big breakfast of eggs, toast and Pop-Tarts. She gleefully had some cold Chinese food and more red goo.

      She wore clothes she’d borrowed from me this morning. Just because an angel arrived ready to do her mission—whatever that mission really was—didn’t mean she packed a bag. Even though she was a few inches taller than me, and had a bigger chest, my clothes looked good on her. It was annoying how good they looked, really.

      “To the church?” I asked.

      “Yes.”

      “I’ll come with you.” I had to get out of here. I couldn’t keep dwelling on what was wrong with my life—I had to do something to fix it. Also, I needed to see Bishop. I wanted to ask him about what Cassandra told me—him being an angel of death. I wanted to know why he’d never told me this before. Maybe that could help stop nightmares like the one last night.

      “No, I think it’s best that you stay here.” She put her dishes in the sink. “Let the professionals handle this problem.”

      I blanched. “You think I’d get in the way?”

      “I just think it would be safer if you stayed here. Take the day to rest and reflect. I’ll let you know if we learn anything.”

      “Rest and reflect?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

      “Exactly. Have a lovely day.” Without another word she was gone, out the front door. I watched through the kitchen window as she walked down the driveway and disappeared around the corner.

      Rest and reflect? Seriously?

      Needless to say, there was very little resting. Lots of reflecting, though, as I thought and overthought everything over the next couple of hours.

      Even without being around anyone to trigger my hunger, I still felt it pushing in at the edges, gnawing on my control like a dog with a bone. Taking part of Colin’s soul last night had barely satisfied me for a couple hours.

      It scared me—especially with too much time to think and nobody around to distract me.

      I flipped through the newspaper only to see another article about two more СКАЧАТЬ