Veiled (Ada Palomino 1)

“This guy did. I could tell. And I’ve seen you around hot dudes before. This one though, you’re into him, this J.J. Abrams.”

“Fine,” I concede with a sigh. We both stop at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. I can hear the dull bass of the concert coming from the river, whatever band is playing at the moment. “I’m into him. I mean, in a way. He’s . . . stupidly good-looking. But that doesn’t mean he’s into me.” And what I really want to say is, there is no way he could even be into me because he’s not even human and he’s actually my protector and I’m sure that’s forbidden anyway since it distracts from the demon-slaying and all that.

“There you go again,” she mutters. “Forgetting that no guy would ever turn you down. Sometimes I think you don’t even own a mirror. You should take a look sometime, you weirdo. You’re hot.”

I ignore the compliments and want to remind her that I’m not quite ready for anything, not after my mom. I don’t want to go through again what I did with Dylan, even though it’s a tired excuse at this point. But before my brain even has a chance to decide on it, I’m struck with this cold, sharp sensation of hands traveling up my stomach, to my chest, where they close around my heart.

I gasp and Amy’s eyes are on me but my eyes are across the street.

There on the other side of the road stands a long, thin man, the one from my dreams. Black, nebulous, never-ending. A void that’s void of everything around it. It’s the eater of dreams, of life, of souls. It’s hungry. It vibrates with evil. My mouth tastes like pennies.

It extends a hand toward me and before I know it, my feet are being dragged against pavement as I’m pulled forward across the busy intersection, like he’s pulling a rope attached to my gut.

Only it isn’t so busy now. The traffic has stopped. The world has stopped.

“Ada,” I can hear Amy in my ear, shaking me and somehow this makes me come to a halt. I find my footing in the middle of the road, while the thin black man is still reaching for me, even though the vibrations, that churning hunger inside him, the magnetic pull of my body towards his like a star into a black hole, has stopped.

I turn around and I see myself back on the other side of the road. Frozen, mouth open, eyes wide in fear. Amy’s hand is on my arm, she’s staring at me in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

And then the world explodes into blue stars and smoke and it’s spinning and suddenly I’m back where I was. No longer two people, just one and Amy’s grip on my arm is tight, her eyes filled with worry, while I teeter off-balance. The need to puke is strong.

“Are you okay? Talk to me?” she asks louder and I’m aware that other pedestrians are crossing the road, some bumping into me, some others glancing at me curiously. The lights are green.

I swallow and try to speak, looking back to see the man. He is gone.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say, taking in a deep breath as if I’ve been under water for minutes.

Amy slowly removes her hand and then sighs in frustration as the light turns red again. We missed our chance to cross.

I can’t share her frustration. I want to know what the fuck just happened. Jay said there were demons around me, things that were showing themselves to me, things I wasn’t seeing. But how did he make time pause like that, take me out of my body like he was shucking a peanut? If Amy hadn’t brought me out of it, what would have happened?

I look at her, my closest friend, and realize that what Jay said was right. I have to tell her, tell her now before it gets worse. I have to come clean, no matter how badly the truth might cost me.

“Amy,” I say slowly. My heart beats wildly though I’m not sure if it’s from the fright I just had or the fear that I might lose her, the only normal thing in my life. In the distance thunder rumbles and, even though the sun is still shining, I swear it’s dimmed, like a restaurant at the romantic hour. “I have to tell you something.”

She bites her lip, shooting me a quick, wary glance. “I thought you never would.”

My brows come together. “What do you mean?”

She exhales loudly, her attention going to everything but me. “I don’t know. It’s been pretty obvious that something is wrong with you. I mean, more than just your mother dying. It’s been two years Ada. We can’t tell if you’re holding onto sadness because you want to feel sad or there’s just something majorly wrong with you.”