LEMNISCATE

  LEMNISCATE

  Jennifer Murgia

  Lemniscate

  Published by Lands Atlantic Publishing

  www.landsatlantic.com

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Murgia

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-0982500583

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  Chapter One

  It had been raining for three days straight. I rolled onto my side to face the window towards the bit of light glowing behind the thin skin of my eyelids and grew excited for a moment, thinking today the sun might finally make an appearance. I should have known better. Under normal circumstances I would have been more than happy to cinch my covers in closer, keeping the warmth in as long as possible, thawing my flannel-wrapped arm after mercilessly sending it out into the open to slam the snooze button. But not today.

  I opened my eyes to Garreth standing at the glass, his skin reflecting back a pale glimmer against the dry side of the window. My warm light on the bleakest of Monday mornings was tracing the crooked lines of water with his finger, seemingly deep in thought.

  “Writing love notes to me on my window?” I mused out loud, stretching my cramped legs toward the bottom of my quilted bed. I propped myself up onto my elbow as he turned around, his striking blue eyes reminded me of his perfection.

  Each day I’m astounded to find him here with me.

  My angel. My guardian. My boyfriend.

  Garreth has been earthbound for months now, choosing to live the life of a mortal just so he can spend each and every waking moment with me. It’s not that he’s giving up an extraordinary existence, he’s just trading part of one for another. He’s still my guardian, still here to protect me. True, there isn’t anything human about him besides the charade he plays for others, and his looks, which, now that I think about it, aren’t quite human either. I remember the irregular heartbeats I felt the first time we met at school last spring. The way I would feel all weak and fluttery. Words can’t describe what he means to me. My mother would call it unhealthy and irrational if she ever learned the true depth of my emotions. Anyone would.

  Garreth’s aura isn’t like the average guy running around my school or at the mall. He’s pure. Surreal. And his heart beats only for me. I should feel important and flattered, I know. But honestly, it makes me uncomfortable. Why anyone would give up the freedom of roaming the heavens to be stranded here is beyond me.

  Especially for me.

  “You’re awake,” he said, walking slowly to my bedside. Sitting down and looking deeply into my eyes, Garreth bent to kiss me good morning. His hand rested gently on my cheek, allowing me to feel the exceptional warmth of his skin, his soft touch nearly lulling me back to sleep.

  “Oh, no you don’t. It’s time for you to get up.”

  “Please tell me it’s Saturday,” I murmured, forcing my face into my pillow.

  “Unfortunately, it’s Monday and unfortunately again, we have a calculus test today.” Garreth nudged my ribs and I couldn’t help giggling.

  “Okay, okay! I’m up!” I smiled into his chiseled face. He looked as handsome as always. His sandy hair, tousled as usual, hung seductively over his brilliant blue eyes. My eyes traced the strong bridge of his nose, which led to his perfect lips, and I let my eyes rest there for a few minutes. Picking up on my thoughts, he bent lower. I could smell the warmth of his skin, fragrant and spicy, as if he’d just showered with an amazing fragrance not yet discovered and bottled. It was his scent, an incense of sorts that belonged only to him and gently surrounded him like his aura. It made me dizzy, but I loved it. I closed my eyes as his lips rested softly on mine and my arms wove up and around his neck to keep him longer.

  “Test? Remember?” He grasped my hands, still clasped behind his neck, and uncurled my fingers with a gentle strength, bringing them to rest at my sides. “Later . . . later you can kiss me and not let go,” he whispered softly into my hair and then stood up.

  “Of course you’ll ace this test. You have infinite knowledge.” I was being sarcastically playful, and Garreth rolled his eyes.

  “I’ll make sure I get a few wrong.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I responded.

  I could hear my mother stirring down the hall. Within minutes she’d be padding softly in this direction to her shower and stop at my door along the way, urging me to wake up. She’s not aware that I’m usually up by this point, nor is she aware that Garreth is the one to wake me before she ever gets the chance to.

  A dresser drawer scraped shut, usually Garreth’s clue for a silent, celestial exit, knowing twenty minutes from now he’d be knocking on the kitchen door to take me to school. I kissed him goodbye with one last chance to see the blue of his eyes sparkle like diamonds. Like clockwork, my mother’s knuckles rapped at my door.

  Only twenty minutes longer.

  That’s all I have to wait.

  Twenty minutes.

  Chapter Two

  The aroma of singed black coffee filled the air as I stepped into the kitchen. I peered into the carafe, knowing instantly that Mom programmed the auto-start a little too early again. I shook my head and grabbed a juice and a yogurt from the fridge and leaned against the counter to chug my breakfast. My mother’s heels clicked forcefully above my head, pinging loudly on the wood; stopping, retreating, then clicking faster as they inched closer down the stairs.

  “Don’t tell me I . . .” her shoulders slumped as she entered the kitchen, eyeing the thick goo now settling at the bottom of the carafe. The coffee maker gurgled loudly as if in pain.

  “Yep. You burned the coffee again.” I shot a sideways glance at the six cups of sludge.

  “Good thing you’re a librarian and not a barista ’cause I think Mr. Coffee is in cardiac arrest.”

  My mom stood staring at the coffee maker, mug in hand, as if actually considering ingesting the liquid monstrosity.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I said, scraping the spoon around the inside of my little plastic yogurt container. Mmm. Key lime.

  “I’ll never understand this thing,” she sighed, reaching for the instruction manual.

  “You’re smart. You’ll get it . . . eventually,” I joked, pitching the yogurt container into the trash can under the sink.

  She laughed and instantly, I missed her.

  Mom and I had always been so close, just the two of us. My father disappeared under bizarre circumstances. I was only a baby when that happened. They had me, and then one day he just . . . disappeared. My mother never talked about it. She still doesn’t. She has no idea that I know the truth about my father or the deeper mystery—the existence of my father’s guardian. A dark angel named Hadrian. I had narrowly escaped his powerful influence last spring in the woods surrounding our little town. Our confrontation led to a fire that nearly killed me.

  Now, life is back to normal and my mom’s been spending a lot of time with the hunky doctor that bandaged me up afterwards. I’m happy she’s found someone; she deserves it, and he seems to treat her well. I mean, it shows that she’s happy. She dresses up more, like she’s making an effort to be a person other than just my mom. She never comes home dog-tired anymore because she’s so hyped up to go out later with Dr. Dean. That’s his name. Dr. Nathaniel Dean, M.D. He’s nice, I guess. He’s a widower so I guess they have that in common. He’s pleasant to me when he comes to o
ur house, but he has to be. He’s on our territory. It’s just . . . I miss having her all to myself. Mom says I’m getting older. Eighteen. A senior. I should want my privacy. So maybe the M.D. after his name should mean “mom deterrent.”

  “Oh! I forgot to tell you; this Friday we’re having our first weekly pizza party,” came a muffled voice. Mom’s head was in the fridge searching for lost lunch meat. I made a mental note to move it closer to the front so she wouldn’t have to look so hard.

  “What do you mean ‘first weekly’? We’ve had pizza on Fridays before.” I leaned down to tighten my cross trainers. Gym day. I stole a glance at the clock over the sink. Four more minutes to go until Garreth would arrive.

  Mom’s head emerged from around the door, lunch meat in hand. “No, I meant the four of us. You know, a weekly thing. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  She turned her back on me purposefully, reaching for the bread on the far counter.

  “The four of us?”

  “Uh huh.”

  My mother was busying herself, avoiding the stricken look surfacing across my face.

  “Did you have to ruin my whole week by bringing this up first thing? Now I have nothing to look forward to this weekend.”

  “I thought I just gave you something.” Her face fell. Mine on the other hand felt permanently scowled as my grumpiness dug in deeper.

  “You can still see Garreth this weekend; like you’re ever apart from that boy for too long. I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes anyway. That kid’s like clockwork. ”

  She was attempting something she never had to do before, trying to sound strong and authoritative, and it didn’t seem to fit. She knew deep down that I hated the idea.

  Abhored it.

  Despised it.

  It was worse than catching black lung or that creepy flesh-eating disease.

  One minute to go . . . way too long.

  Come on Garreth. Where are you?

  I looked my mother square in the eye. “Why can’t the fourth person be Garreth? A nice little family dinner. Like a double date.”

  Mom sighed deeply, returning the stare.

  “It would make us so happy if you two would just try to get along.”

  “She’s not even his daughter!” My stress level was skyrocketing. Not a good thing for a Monday before school. I could hear my calculus grade flushing down the toilet already.

  “She’s his step-daughter. And it still makes her family.”

  “Well he’s not family yet, either.”

  Oops. Without looking at my mom I knew I opened my mouth a little too wide with that one. I heard the refrigerator door open and the plastic salami bag slap forcefully against the back, where it would probably stay now, rotting. Then I heard the loud tapping of her shoes make their way into the small powder room in the hall.

  Conversation over.

  With perfect timing, Garreth appeared on the back porch, umbrella in hand, to escort me to school. I could hear the faint idling of his Jeep in the driveway.

  “Hi.” He leaned over to kiss my forehead, then leaned his head and shoulders into the door frame to call good morning to my mom.

  “Don’t bother. It’s not a very good morning.”

  “She tried again, huh?” Garreth’s eyes met mine as he noted my sullen attitude. I felt guilty this time. Well, maybe not that much.

  “I guess I laid the resistance on a little too thick. You ready?” I asked, grabbing my books and my house key.

  I closed the back door behind us, with my mother sulking inside. I knew things would be better when I came home this afternoon. We would eat dinner. She would try again. I wanted to make her happy, I really did, but sometimes it was hard. Dr. Dean was the first man to seriously sweep her off her feet since my father, and I had to be the one to put a glitch in things.

  Garreth opened the door for me and ran around to his side, avoiding the puddles in our neglected and uneven driveway. I looked over at him and forced a smile. Being with him made me beyond happy; it was just taking a little longer this morning.

  He shifted the Jeep in reverse and his warm hand found mine. I absently traced his palm with my finger, feeling the soft embedded lines that completed a circle with the intersecting points of his star. His mark never ceased to amaze me. There were days I forgot he wasn’t human. It was so easy to take for granted that a person was born with human traits, little identifiable markings that showed they belonged to the human race . . . blue eyes, green eyes . . . arms and legs . . . curly hair, straight hair. And the odd little markings to distinguish one person from the other, fingerprints for example. No two were alike. Like a snowflake or birthmarks.

  But when it came to the palms of our hands, I was still blown away. We were born with markings, but angels were created with their own, too. An octagram engraved in the palm of an angel’s hand. It was the mark of a guardian.

  I flipped his hand over, then turned mine over as well. I had my own mark. It wasn’t an octagram because I wasn’t a guardian, but it was just as rare and made me feel special. Garreth called it the Circle of Unity when it first appeared on my hand last spring. Circle of Unity sure sounded a lot better than what I originally thought it was, since it started off looking like an ugly, raised welt—a sure sign of some variety of poison.

  I wasn’t quite sure what my mark meant or why I was chosen to have it, but it didn’t scare me. I’ve seen too much to scare easily and it was a relief knowing I’m destined for something else. Something important. Something that will never cease to exist . . . like my human life.

  But human I was for now, and a stubborn one at that.

  “I just wish Dr. Dean didn’t come as a package deal. It really would be easier if it was just him,” I said, trying to rationalize.

  “You mean it would be easier for you if it was just him. So what you’re really saying is things are difficult enough with just one teenager for them to deal with.” Garreth smiled sideways at me, keeping his eyes fixed on the slick streets on the way to school.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I bit down on my tongue. I was only digging myself deeper. “I know I’m no angel.”

  Garreth looked right at me, keeping the car steady, and raised his eyebrows inquisitively until they disappeared beneath the lengths of his sandy blonde hair.

  “You know what I mean. She’s trouble, that’s all.”

  Trouble.

  That didn’t even begin to cover it.

  I stared at the tiny drops on the windshield in front of me, not saying another word until we pulled into the student parking lot of Carver High School. It was bad enough I had to go to the same school as Brynn Hanson, but to spend every Friday now, scarfing down pepperoni and mushroom pizza with her, was pushing it.

  The Jeep stopped. The rain came down heavier in large, inflated drops. Garreth made a grab for the umbrella, but I stopped him. This time I was the one to reach across and touch him. He looked at me and a warm smile formed across his lips, and then I kissed him.

  “Ready to go ace calculus?” he asked, still leaning in my direction.

  “Yeah, ready to fail it.” I joked half-heartedly.

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  Miraculously, the rain was letting up a little, and by little I mean little. But it made me feel hopeful, not just that maybe I could make it to the front entrance without soggy sneakers, but hopeful about things in general. Reluctantly, I made a silent vow to not get too pissed off about Fridays—or Brynn for that matter.

  Chapter Three

  Garreth’s locker was on the third level, since he was a transfer student last spring, so we split up by the main staircase and I proceeded down the hallway toward my locker, which was next to the library this year. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just a typical Monday morning: yawning students, the techno-pings of text messages being sent and received, lockers slamming in frustration. My shoes were squeaking with every step across the gray and white tiled floor, but so were everyone else’s.

  Then, j
ust as my mood began to lighten, it darkened. Gone. Just like that.

  It was the clicking of heels in perfect unison that penetrated my morning routine. I reluctantly turned my head to catch a glimpse of the evil foursome, quickly approaching my stretch of hallway. Lauren Atkins and Emily Lawrence were smiling, their chins held high, members of the school’s royal court. Sage Fisher kept up while rummaging through her tiny handbag, pursing her glossy, pink lips together until at last, she found a stick of gum. She absentmindedly flicked the wrapper from her fingers, where it floated weightlessly to the floor. Doing my best to ignore them, I turned to my locker again. Finding my English textbook became utterly important all of a sudden.

  Their leader, Brynn Hanson, was moments away from the quad where my locker stood. I stared into the cavernous metal opening and held my breath. Synchronized footsteps slowed behind me, then abruptly stopped and I sighed, having no choice but to turn and face her.

  “I heard about Friday,” Brynn cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.

  “The charity dinner?” crooned Lauren from behind us.

  Brynn quickly shot her hand up, silencing her obnoxious friend. There was only one person she was giving her attention to right now.

  “All I’m saying is if you’re nice to me for your mom’s sake don’t expect any reciprocation. Come Monday morning, you’ll mean nothing to me, just like any other day,” she hissed through her smile.

  “Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” I chided back.

  Brynn shot me another meaningful glare, then looked me up and down, taking in my dressed down attire for P.E. Her eyes settled on the dampened hem of my sweatpants and her mouth turned up in disgust; then they proceeded to walk away. I could feel my face burn with anger and embarrassment.

  Practically everyone was soaked from the rain this morning, everyone except Brynn, whose little leather shoes were dry and perfect. Within moments, Ryan Jameson emerged by my side, his backpack slung over his shoulder as he stared after the entourage.