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Once Dead, Twice Shy - Kim Harrison [19]

By Root 468 0
both Kairos and I knew.

“Call Barnabas,” I said to the angel, frightened.

“Can’t do that,” she said lightly. “I’m not experienced enough to touch thoughts with anyone. I’m a first-sphere guardian angel.”

“Then go get Ron,” I said to her, seeing the black wing start to circle.

“Can’t do that, either.” Whirling about my head, she sent flashes of light into my eyes.

“I’m instructed to keep you safe and report reapers. You’re safe.”

“What about Josh?” I asked, and she hummed as if she didn’t care. Josh’s truck’s door creaked open, and I panicked.

“Josh!” Shoving my bike along, I awkwardly ran down the center of the empty road.

“Josh, I’m sorry,” I gushed as I reached the driver’s door and grabbed the open window.

“Wait.” My heart pounded as I looked up, but the black wing had started to veer off already. My tension eased, then shifted to worry. The angel wouldn’t protect him, but if I stayed with Josh, he’d be under my immunity. If the black wings couldn’t sense him, then neither could Kairos or Nakita. Why hadn’t I worked harder on thought-touching? It sure would be handy about now.

Josh sat with his hands on his wheel, staring at me as a car drove slowly around us.

“Madison, you are one weird dudette.”

“Yeah, I know,” I rushed. “Give me a ride to the bike shop? I need a new tire.”

Cocking his head, Josh looked at me. I’d do just about anything right now not to have to explain, but I’d also do anything to keep him safe. It was my fault he was in danger. I might be dead, but I still had to live with myself, and if I walked away, Josh would suffer. Maybe die.

“I’m at the bottom of a ravine, aren’t I?” I blurted desperately, my eyes pleading for him to listen. “In a black convertible. In your dream.”

Josh’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

I licked my lips, feeling the heat come up off the road like the fires of hell. I knew better than to break the false memory Ron had given Josh. But he wasn’t here, and I didn’t know how to reach him. “Because it wasn’t a dream,” I said.

Chapter Four

Seeing as how it was about twenty years old, Josh’s truck was spare in the amenities. It had manual locks, manual windows, a long bench seat, and no air conditioner. It had a monster of a stereo, though, and he had to move a crate of CDs to the middle before I could get in. Hard rock, mostly, and some classic rockers my dad listened to. Wendy would have liked the harder stuff. He hadn’t turned the music on, and I was getting nervous from the ongoing silence.

A Harley bell hung from the radio knob, and my guardian angel had parked herself on it with a satisfied hum the moment she followed me in. I swear I’d heard her singing when Josh did a three-point turn and headed us into town, the bell swinging softly. His gym bag was shoved under the seat, and the narrow space behind the front seat held an expensive-looking fly rod. I couldn’t help but wonder why Josh drove an old truck when I knew his dad could afford a lot better.

He was a good driver, silent as we made our way to the bike shop. His curiosity as to how I knew about his dream had gotten me a ride, but now he seemed to be waiting for me to elaborate. I didn’t quite know what to say as I sat beside him, and I leaned forward into the sun to look out the front window for black wings. There was only blue sky, which made me feel better. No black wings meant no reapers. The one always followed the other.

“What are you looking at?” Josh asked, and I leaned back.

“Nothing.” The old truck bounced as we went over a bridge, and the homes started to shift to businesses. He was waiting for me to say something. Since we only had about five stoplights to go, I sighed. “What do you remember about the prom?” I asked softly.

“That you were a real—” His words cut off, and his neck went red. “Uh.”

“I was nasty,” I finished for him, wincing. “I’m sorry. I was mad when I found out you’d only asked me to the prom because your dad wanted you to, because my dad was worried about me being new to town and not knowing anyone. I was a class-A bitch.”

“No, you weren’t,” he said, but I

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