anything out of the ordinary.
I could no longer hear the voices of the others. Maybe they'd gone outside. Or they'd left me behind in another dimension, where reality was just slightly skewed. The house seemed different now, at night, with just me and Ahaziel. Emptier, of course. Eerier. The quality of light seemed to have changed, though maybe my eyes had gotten more accustomed to it. I thought I could hear the wind whisking in through the foyer windows and gaps around the doors. I could almost feel ghosts brushing my skin.
In the foyer, he reached to open a pair of pocket doors, indistinguishable from the wall if someone didn't already know they were there. I peered into a parlor empty of furniture except for a dusty pink armchair that looked so worn and rickety it might have been left there by the house's last inhabitants. It probably had, unless some enterprising bums had lugged it in there.
"This part of the house burned in nineteen oh four," Ahaziel informed me blandly.
Did I only imagine I smelled smoke? "What caused the fire?" I asked.
"Carelessness." Without elaborating, he closed the doors and turned to me. "Would you like to see upstairs?"
"Okay."
The return-style staircase was steep and narrow, the straight hallway at the summit not much wider. There were four bedrooms in all, doors shut tight against secrets. We walked to the last room on the right, which overlooked the front yard.
The bare room looked as old and neglected as anything else in the house. I crossed the floorboards to peer out the windows and gazed across the hundreds of evergreens marching down the hill on which the house sat. To the right I could see a little patch of sea among the trees. The sky was eggplant-purple through gaps in the clouds. I couldn't see the car, or my friends. Maybe they were just out of my line of vision.
Or maybe they were in that version of reality I'd left behind the second I'd seen Ahaziel in the doorway.
A floorboard creaked behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Ahaziel moved just inside the room, watching me. Pale light, beautiful and serene, lay transparent over his skin. Nobody at school would think him handsome, I realized. He was too different from the perfect, chiseled ideal—too strong, too strange, too unique. But to me, he was beautiful.
I offered a shaky smile. "Nice view."
"Yes."
"You . . ." I waved one arm in a general gesture, indicating the house. "You don't sleep here , do you?"
"No."
"Where, then? I mean, you must be staying somewhere."
"I don't need much sleep."
"Okay." I didn't know what else to say. I was trying to make conversation but he used every opportunity to squash my efforts with brief, cryptic answers. He wouldn't even tell me where he lived. For all I knew, he was just some weird guy who showed up in the forest and my school gym. Actually, that was all I knew.
"Okay," I said again. "You have to tell me what's going on."
He shook his head. "I won't."
I spun from the window and headed for the door. Ahaziel stepped aside to let me pass, but I felt dizzy and caught myself on the doorframe. The air seemed to shift in a strange way and it was heavy, too heavy . . .
Sleep. It was hard for me to sleep, of course. How could I rest easily when I had to lie to myself day after day?
But at night I cannot lie to myself.
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
I'll close my eyes and feign sleep. Maybe this time he'll turn away . . .
The door swung open on silent hinges, though I would have sworn it was already open. Would he know I was awake? I saw his dreaded silhouette hovering in the doorway and I didn't dare move. He stood looking at me and after a moment I knew he wasn't going away. He never went away.
I know what is coming. Two years, nearly every night . . . It is inevitable.
I blinked and saw I was still supporting myself on the doorframe. Gradually regaining my senses, I glanced wildly around and wondered what had just happened. Ahaziel stood behind me as he had just a
I could no longer hear the voices of the others. Maybe they'd gone outside. Or they'd left me behind in another dimension, where reality was just slightly skewed. The house seemed different now, at night, with just me and Ahaziel. Emptier, of course. Eerier. The quality of light seemed to have changed, though maybe my eyes had gotten more accustomed to it. I thought I could hear the wind whisking in through the foyer windows and gaps around the doors. I could almost feel ghosts brushing my skin.
In the foyer, he reached to open a pair of pocket doors, indistinguishable from the wall if someone didn't already know they were there. I peered into a parlor empty of furniture except for a dusty pink armchair that looked so worn and rickety it might have been left there by the house's last inhabitants. It probably had, unless some enterprising bums had lugged it in there.
"This part of the house burned in nineteen oh four," Ahaziel informed me blandly.
Did I only imagine I smelled smoke? "What caused the fire?" I asked.
"Carelessness." Without elaborating, he closed the doors and turned to me. "Would you like to see upstairs?"
"Okay."
The return-style staircase was steep and narrow, the straight hallway at the summit not much wider. There were four bedrooms in all, doors shut tight against secrets. We walked to the last room on the right, which overlooked the front yard.
The bare room looked as old and neglected as anything else in the house. I crossed the floorboards to peer out the windows and gazed across the hundreds of evergreens marching down the hill on which the house sat. To the right I could see a little patch of sea among the trees. The sky was eggplant-purple through gaps in the clouds. I couldn't see the car, or my friends. Maybe they were just out of my line of vision.
Or maybe they were in that version of reality I'd left behind the second I'd seen Ahaziel in the doorway.
A floorboard creaked behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Ahaziel moved just inside the room, watching me. Pale light, beautiful and serene, lay transparent over his skin. Nobody at school would think him handsome, I realized. He was too different from the perfect, chiseled ideal—too strong, too strange, too unique. But to me, he was beautiful.
I offered a shaky smile. "Nice view."
"Yes."
"You . . ." I waved one arm in a general gesture, indicating the house. "You don't sleep here , do you?"
"No."
"Where, then? I mean, you must be staying somewhere."
"I don't need much sleep."
"Okay." I didn't know what else to say. I was trying to make conversation but he used every opportunity to squash my efforts with brief, cryptic answers. He wouldn't even tell me where he lived. For all I knew, he was just some weird guy who showed up in the forest and my school gym. Actually, that was all I knew.
"Okay," I said again. "You have to tell me what's going on."
He shook his head. "I won't."
I spun from the window and headed for the door. Ahaziel stepped aside to let me pass, but I felt dizzy and caught myself on the doorframe. The air seemed to shift in a strange way and it was heavy, too heavy . . .
Sleep. It was hard for me to sleep, of course. How could I rest easily when I had to lie to myself day after day?
But at night I cannot lie to myself.
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
I'll close my eyes and feign sleep. Maybe this time he'll turn away . . .
The door swung open on silent hinges, though I would have sworn it was already open. Would he know I was awake? I saw his dreaded silhouette hovering in the doorway and I didn't dare move. He stood looking at me and after a moment I knew he wasn't going away. He never went away.
I know what is coming. Two years, nearly every night . . . It is inevitable.
I blinked and saw I was still supporting myself on the doorframe. Gradually regaining my senses, I glanced wildly around and wondered what had just happened. Ahaziel stood behind me as he had just a
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