A Radiant Sky

15

The weekend opened up before us like the little purple flowers that were springing into bloom across the field behind our house.

For me, it couldn’t have come soon enough. It had been a rougher week than usual at school. In addition to the finals schedule being announced, and Cassie throwing herself full-force into prom planning, my visions were getting stranger, scarier. And I was having dreams every night now.

In one, Asher was holding a sword to my neck, telling me to jump or he would kill me.

In another, I was walking on that same beach from my visions. But it was covered with broken wings, spattered with blood and jagged where they’d been cut from someone’s back.

In the most recent, Devin was pulling his blade from my stomach, and blood poured from the gaping wound. “Trust is for dreamers and fools,” he said. “You think you can save the world, but how can you trust the people around you when you can’t even trust yourself?” But it wasn’t his voice that rang in my head, it was Astaroth’s, and then he said something else, but I couldn’t hear him as the blood rushed up past my nose and mouth, past my ears, and I woke screaming in a cold sweat to find Earth sitting at the foot of my bed.

She put her hand on my leg.

“It’s him,” she said, “isn’t it? The one who can see into your mind.”

“They’re dreams,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. “They’re just dreams.”

“No,” she said, her calm, small voice comforting in the night. “It’s him. It’s easier when you’re asleep. Don’t let what he says scare you. It’s not real.”

Betrayal. Shattered trust. And if the dreams were right, I would die, soon, and violently. Possibly at the hands of someone I trusted. Gideon had only taught me how to protect my mind from infiltration when I was awake. I had no idea how to stop Astaroth from getting in while I was asleep. How would I protect my dreams?

The question plagued me: Were they visions of the future or just visions he was planting in my mind to rattle me?

Whatever it was, something was changing. Every day, the visions and dreams were getting worse. Order and Chaos were on the verge of colliding. A battle of some kind loomed even closer. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to find James, so we could stop the carnage from happening. Or before Astaroth drove me crazy in the process.

I only had a face to go on, and a name that didn’t seem to match that face. It wasn’t adding up, and we were running out of time.

Aunt Jo made dinner one night and invited the whole group over. She claimed it was safer when we were all together, and that she wanted to talk about our plan, but I had an inkling she had other reasons as well. Aunt Jo had been especially chipper lately. No, not chipper. Glowing. It was like I was seeing a side of her she’d never showed me before. She’d always loved having friends over to cook for, but this felt different. She wasn’t doing it for herself this time, or even for me. She was doing it for someone else.

And he was sitting right next to her, watching adoringly as she passed the mashed ginger-and-carrot sweet potatoes.

“How are the prom plans coming, Cassie?” Aunt Jo asked.

“Fab,” Cassie said. “You’ll never guess what the theme is.”

“Do we want to know?” asked Dan.

“It’s the End of the World!” Cassie beamed.

An awkward silence fell over the table.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who eats their shoes,” Raven snorted.

“That’s the theme of prom?” I asked.

“You told me it was my job to bring the levity,” Cassie said, trying not to look hurt as she glanced around the table. “It’s based on disaster movies, Skye. Titanic, The Day After Tomorrow, Poseidon, Twister.” She paused and looked at me. “Your favorites. I thought you’d be happy.”

My heart swelled for Cassie. She was helping, in her small way, the only way she could.

“It sounds awesome,” I said.

“Yeah, if we make it to prom,” Ian muttered.

“Ian!” Cassie cried. “That is, like, blasphemy. Of course we will.” She turned to me. “We will, right, Skye?”

Would we? I wanted to say I didn’t know, wanted so badly for them to comfort me. But I was this group’s leader, and I had to give them hope—even if I was finding it harder and harder to believe.

“Of course we will,” I said. Ian looked dubious.

“If we find my dad first.” He pushed the broccoli around his plate and rested his chin in his other hand. “I just wish I could ask him where he is, you know?”

“Well, that would make things a lot easier,” Aaron said. “Too bad we just have to rely on our own resources.”

Or did we? Something about the conversation jogged a memory for me. The letter from my mother! She had said a time would come when I had questions. And I should ask her. I had no idea what it meant, but maybe it was worth a shot.

That night, while Aaron still slept behind closed doors in Aunt Jo’s room, Raven occupied the couch in the den, and Earth snored softly in her sleeping bag, I took out the small wooden box. There was something magical about the way it was made, as if the etching of the key had glowed only for me.

“Okay, Mom,” I whispered. “I have so many questions I still need answers to. You said I could ask, so . . . I’m asking.” But what to ask first? “Are we going to win?” If she’d had the Sight, maybe she knew.

One of the four intertwining loops of the key’s head glowed, bright and then brighter. My heart sped up. Maybe this would work.

But just as I began to have hope, it faded back to normal. And then it disappeared completely.

Nothing happened. The box sat in my hands, unchanged. Maybe she couldn’t give me the answer to something that hadn’t happened yet. Maybe that wasn’t how this worked. I guess it was possible that even my mother’s power had limitations. Or maybe it was me—blurring the future.

I decided to start with something more basic.

“Okay,” I said. “How can you answer me, when you’re . . . well . . . dead?”

Another loop on the key burned brightly, and suddenly I felt like I was going headfirst down one of those water slides at amusement parks, the tall ones that wind like snakes in spiral loops down to the bottom. But instead of splashing out into a pool below, I found myself standing in the bedroom of the cabin.

A man stood with his arms resting on the antique dresser, his back to me. He wore a blue checkered flannel and had dark brown hair that hung down his neck.

Dad.

“I just don’t like that you’re doing this to her,” he said, his back rising and falling in a sigh.

“Sam,” a woman’s voice said from behind me. She walked right past me, and my breath stopped. My mother had honey blond hair, pinned up in a loose twist. Pieces fell down and framed her face, and when the light from the open window hit them, even I had to admit she looked like an angel. “We’re doing it to protect her.” Her voice was gentle, soft. “She’s not ready yet. If we do this to her, it will be too much. She could die.”

“I know,” he said quietly. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his back.

“Turn around, Sam,” she said, and he did. The sight of his face hit me with longing. Even now, all these years later, I still missed my parents acutely. Even now that I knew my memories of them were tampered with, weren’t whole.

It made me angry to think about it. But I had a feeling my mother was showing me this for a reason.

“One day she’s going to come into her powers, and she’ll have a heavier weight on her shoulders than any one person before her. She’s going to have questions. And what if we’re not there for her?”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s possible, and you know it. Once the Order sets their minds to something . . .”

“I hate the idea of Skye growing up without us. Without knowing who she really is. We should be there to help her.”

My mother paused, took his bearded face in her hands.

“We can be.”

He looked at her. “Well, sure, if the Order doesn’t get their way, but—”

“No, Sam. Even then. We can be.” She looked into the mirror behind him, and her eyes met mine, as I watched.

I knew, in that moment, that she was talking to me. This—this was what she meant by giving me answers.

“When a Gifted One or a Guardian uses their powers to influence a person’s mental energy,” she said, still holding my gaze, “it changes a little bit of their makeup, and yours, forever. It creates a bond—a connection between the two minds. The more intense and prolonged the influence, the stronger the bond. It’s not intentional—just a natural, accidental sort of side effect to mental influence. An accidental rift in the fabric of an angel’s mind that lets the human see a little bit into their thoughts and feelings. If the influence is only for a short period of time, you might be able to make out snippets and inklings. If it’s for longer, a kind of, well . . . portal is created.” The look on my dad’s face changed as he began to catch on. “You just look into their eyes. . . .”

“You’ve been doing this her whole childhood,” my dad said. She nodded, excitedly.

“I’ve been preparing. We’re going to die, Sam. I’ve seen it. I know it’s a sacrifice, but this will be worth it in the long run, when Skye finds herself caught in the middle of the two sides, without us to guide her, and she needs our help.”

“But how . . . if you’re not there . . . how will she . . . ?”

“Do you have the box you made for her?”

My dad nodded and reached into the top dresser drawer. So Dad kept things in his sock drawer, too. A smile tugged at my lips.

He took out the small wooden box, with the familiar etching of the key on it—the one I held in my hands at that very moment—and they held it between them.

“Give it your energy,” she whispered. “Imbue it with your powers. Protect it, so that it can only be opened if someone has the key.” She smiled at him.

“And only Skye will have the key.”

I watched in awe as pale, twinkling light flowed through my mother’s fingertips—and black smoke shot from my father’s. When they met, the box glowed a bright silver between them. Dark and light.

You never lose your powers, Raven had said. Even after you become human.

I blinked, and I was back in my bedroom. Earth continued to snore, hidden away in her sleeping bag. The moon continued to shine through my window, and the stars continued to wink at me. I was exhausted, just completely drained from the connection to my mother’s thoughts and the events of the past few weeks. Still clutching the box to my chest, I fell into a deep sleep.

I didn’t sleep for long.

“Skye,” the voice whispered, as if made of the darkness itself. “Let me in.”

“No,” I murmured, rolling over and shoving a pillow over my head.

“No?” he repeated. “No. What kind of attitude is that?”

“No!” I shut my eyes tight and began to build, brick by hurried brick, the wall that would protect my mind from Astaroth.

“Now, now, that seems awfully hasty,” he said, his voice like honey. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say? Could be important, you never know.”

“What could you possibly have to tell me,” I said through gritted teeth, “that I would want to hear?”

“You might be surprised. You might say you’ll find your mind somewhat . . . changed.”

“I doubt it. I won’t let your mind tricks work on me. I’m going to overthrow you. I’m going to make you wish you’d never tried to get me to choose.”

“You don’t understand, Skye,” his voice was suddenly hard-edged and brutal. “You were lucky that we let you choose. I could have taken you by force right at the start. But that wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t in the stars. No, you had to want us. Devin was as good a way to make that happen as any. I could have made him do much worse to you than he did. And he was easily disposable. The Rebellion can have him.”

“Liar. You didn’t need him. You could have gotten to me before I was strong, when you had the chance. But you didn’t, because I don’t think you can.”

“Then you,” he said, “are sorely misled. Others have tried to do what you’re doing. Your mother tried. Look how well that turned out for her.”

“Stop it,” I said.

“She didn’t get very far—the Order made sure of that.”

“Leave my mother out of this.”

“Your mother . . . she was so—gifted really is the right word for it, isn’t it? Even for one of my most trusted. It hurt when she left me for your father, Skye. It really did. So good, so talented at controlling fate, influencing minds, manipulating the lives of paltry humans. It was such a betrayal when your father convinced her that this wasn’t the life for her. Such a shame. It’s not for everybody, I suppose. Many jump. And many . . . Well, many get their wings torn off in the night.”

“Stop it!”

“Oh, you can handle hearing the truth. She was easily replaced. They all are. Your mother, Raven, Devin. As long as time beats on, as life begins and ends, the Order will persist. New Gifted will rise up, with new, stronger powers. New Guardians will carry out their bidding. It’s so easy, really, Skye. Just like a machine. Tick tock. Tick tock. The great, beating tide of time draws in and out. Surf beating against the rocks of the beach at the end of the world.”

The beach at the end of the world.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I can change things.”

“What makes you think you’ll meet a luckier fate? What makes you think you’ll beat us this time?”

“Because!” I shouted. “I’m stronger than my mother. I have powers that she never dreamed of having. I have her talents AND I believe in free will. Because of me, time stands still and destiny is unreadable. I can see the future and cause the earth to shake and trees to fall and mountains to move and the sky to come tumbling to the ground in great waves of hail and snow. I can do so much more than anything you’ve ever seen! And I won’t stop until I beat you!”

“Perhaps,” he said. His voice was too calm, unnerving. “You could be stronger. But you have a weakness. The same weakness that your mother had. And it’s the reason that the Order will find a way to get you. It’s the reason we’ll win, every time.”

I clenched my jaw. “What weakness?”

“Your heart,” he said. “Your dogged need to see the best in everyone. Your belief in love. It’s your great undoing.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said. “It’s what makes me strong.”

“Is it really? It’s what made you trust Devin, the very thing that made you vulnerable to his sword. It’s what made you align with the Rebellion, despite the fact that you knew they didn’t care about you—that they only wanted to use you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat. “They were my friends.”

“Were they? And what about your Rebel boyfriend? Where is he now? He was ordered to kill someone he knew you cared about. And what was he doing at that fire, Skye? Could it be that he was a part of the attack on your Aunt Jo?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “I don’t foresee this ending very well for you, my dear.”

“You don’t know that,” I said, panic rising in my throat like bile. “You can’t see that. I’ve blurred out your ability to see how this will end. You don’t know what Asher’s capable of doing.”

“Hmm, don’t I?” He paused. “Either way.” His voice was razors and sharp lines. “It’s your love for him, it’s your wish for him to be good, that will prevent you from seeing the truth about him. You want so badly to believe, to love him, all of them, to not be alone at the end of the world with the terrible burden you bear. But it’s what’s keeping you from staying safe. From fighting true and fierce. Your love will leave you ready for the taking.” He laughed, a cold, hard laugh. “Everyone you love will leave you, eventually.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered. Though I believed it less now.

“No,” he said. “Even you know that’s a lie.”

A lie . . . a lie. Everyone you love will leave you. Maybe he was right. It was why I’d always worked so hard to keep people out, to not trust anyone more than I had to. You couldn’t rely on people. There was no telling when they might leave you.

“See?” Astaroth said. “You’re catching on. Don’t you want to finally be free from worrying about all this? Isn’t it better to cut Asher out—forever? He’s probably plotting their next attack right now. He’s still a Rebel. He hasn’t changed.”

Changed.

I blinked.

You might find your mind somewhat changed.

If my mother was right, my mind was changed. A portal was created between my mind and an angel’s, every time they tried to influence my mental energy. Astaroth had been infiltrating my mind, trying to shake me up, make me question what I thought was right and true. Was it possible that a portal had been created between us? That his mind was changed, too?

Because if that was true . . . maybe there was a way I could see what he was planning.

Fighting with every inch of my energy to continue to push him out, I got up and started to leave.

“Where are you going?” he said. “Don’t think you can end this just by walking away.”

“I’m not walking away,” I said calmly, opening the window and climbing out onto the moonlit roof.

“I’ll always be able to get into your mind, Skye. You can’t hide from me.”

“So follow me, then.”

Out on the roof, I spread my wings, just in case.

And what I’d hoped would happen did. Even though it pained me to do it, I steeled myself and felt my mind touch the cold, sickening steel of his—and slip through the rift.

It was dark, cold, like floating in space. There was an emptiness in him, and I felt it too, was swimming in it.

Images began to crystalize out of the void. Images I recognized. The small, twinkling lights I’d seen in another vision, blinking on and off. The sweep of a dress against the hardwood floor of a gymnasium. A dress that I recognized.

Because Aunt Jo gave it to me.

I’d seen it in my visions, stained with blood. And I saw it now against the backdrop of my school gym.

For prom.

I heard Astaroth’s thoughts:

The battle will not end until one side has claimed her—or one side has killed her. It is the day of reckoning. The end of days—or the beginning.

I opened my eyes with a start. I was lying in bed, gasping. Sweat soaked through my T-shirt. The window was open, night air blowing the curtains back, and Earth was sitting up in her sleeping bag, staring at me curiously.

The battle we’d been waiting for. The battle over me.

It was going to take place on prom night.