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Every word Isabel said echoed in my mind with each sway of the front porch swing, swarming and overwhelming me until I closed my eyes. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that snapshot of my father holding my dead body, and raw devastation slammed into my ribs like right hooks, forcing my eyelids open. This vicious cycle looped again and again, as lazy as the arch of the swing but as powerful as a gale force wind.
I sucked in my breath against the mental anguish.
I wouldn’t live beyond twenty five. Half my life already gone and that little fact stroked my nerves like a sharp knife tearing flesh from bone.
A death sentence of epic proportion.
At least with cancer, there was a fighting chance, but this? This was a time bomb I didn’t want to hold. My gaze landed on Julia’s house and my prospects for the future darkened.
A car engine drew my attention and I turned toward the driveway. My mother climbed out of the car with a grocery bag in her arms and her warm welcoming smile. My throat closed tight at the onslaught of sorrow and I pressed my lips together, blinking the tears blurring my vision.
My mom’s smile faded the closer she got and I tilted my head, opting to stare at the wooden deck instead of at her.
The bag crinkled when she set it down near the door and her feet came into my field of view. “What’s wrong, Nick?” she asked and knelt so I could see her face.
Before I could answer, a deep rumble came from below us, shaking the porch. A plume of fire rolled into the air in the distance like the cloud of a nuclear bomb and the noise that followed sounded like the earth screaming.
The wind roared; bending the trees in its path until the hot breeze dissipated.
Both my mother and I jumped to our feet. Neighbors’ doors opened and folks just stood and stared at the settling smoke.
“What the hell was that?” my mother said.
“It’s started,” Isabel said from the edge of the porch stairs, yanking our attention away from the spectacle.
“Who are you?”
I knew that accusatory tone my mother uttered. It was her defense mechanism when she was rattled and her weapon when she was angry.
“Isabel,” she said and took a step forward. “Nick and I met at the hospital earlier today.”
It was my turn to get the sharp stare and I fidgeted. “I thought you were going to the library with Julia.”
“I did, but then I went to the hospital to look for reapers and I found Isabel.” I waved my hand toward the pretty teenager on the steps.
My mother’s face paled and she took a seat on the swing, studying Isabel. “Are you...”
“Yes. I am.”
I started to speak but a quick shake from Isabel’s head shut off my words.
“Why can I see you?”
Isabel sighed and glanced toward the growing mayhem of sirens in the distance. “I’m related to Dylan,” she said when she looked back at my mother.
The muscles in my mother’s jaw tightened and she crossed her arms. “Part of that royal bloodline?” Sarcasm laced each syllable.
“Married to it,” Isabel said and my mother’s arms dropped to her lap and her mouth popped open in an O of surprise.
“Not Dylan. No honey, you’ve got his heart forever. I was married to his great, great grandfather. This is what happens when we die, darling. We serve the bloodline.”
A crease appeared between my mother’s eyes and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she stared at Isabel. A pack of questions circled in her mind like a dog chasing its tail and I had to look away. My gaze traveled in the direction of Julia’s house and I blinked. Julia was in full sprint towards us, her face flushed and her eyes wild.
I hopped over the rail and sprinted toward her.
“Nick,” she said, her breath laboring around my name.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing how dumb the question was in light of the number of sirens in the distance.
“I was on the phone with my mom. She said she and my dad were going to be late because of the traffic on the highway and then the phone went dead.”
“Maybe...”
“Nick, the phone died at the same time that explosion happened.” She threw herself into my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her trembling body and stared at the settling dust in the distance. To say I had a bad feeling was an understatement.