Page 11 of Heavensent & Hellbent

I let out an unexpected laugh. “No.” Thinking my accent was Australian was more complimentary than anything. Having the Hull accent meant I elongated certain words—especially “no.” “I’m from England. I mean, do I really sound Australian to you?”

A slow smile spread his lips. “Well, you don’t sound British.”

“We don’t all sound posh like the Queen, or King now, whatever. My accent is Northern English, which is quite different.”

His lips quirked up. “Noted. So, why’d you move to Denver?”

“My dad got a job out here.” Saying these words aloud created a lump in my throat. I couldn’t take myself anywhere. And I wouldn’t cry about my early onset homesickness in front of this boy.

“You don’t seem happy about it.” His smile had faded. The last thing I wanted was sympathy, and certainly not from a person who haunted my dreams.

I’ll always love you.The words bubbled up in my mind. I shook my head.

“I mean, would you be happy if your parent uprooted yourentire life?” I asked, trying to make my voice light, but it came out harsher than intended.

“Well, actually—” Zain began, but he was interrupted by a voice from behind him in the depths of the alley, within the shadows.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the voice croaked.

“Now’s not a good time,” Zain called behind him, not even bothering to turn around. He leaned toward me, and I could smell him: cool, fresh air, with a hint of vanilla. “Listen, you’d better go.”

My face screwed up at this. I didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a stranger.Especiallyby a guy. “I’ll go when I want to go.” I craned my neck to see beyond Zain. The voice belonged to a dark-haired man. His hair covered most of his face, the long greasy locks acting like a curtain over his features. His clothes were in tatters, and he walked barefoot toward us. I figured he was unhoused. I felt bad for the people I passed in the street, many of them probably not much older than me, without any support.

Zain put a hand on my shoulder. It was warm, and I was torn between flinching away from his touch or letting it sit there. I liked the feel of it, which was something I would admit to no one.

“Trust me,” he said in my ear. I shivered as his breath tickled my neck. “You need to leave.”

That’s when I took a step back but said, “What’s going on? Are you dealing drugs or something?”

Zain snorted, though his jaw tightened. God, he was hot.Even in this moment, when I thought he might be engaging in an illegal activity, I couldn’t stop thinking that he was one of the most handsome boys I had ever seen.

“Fine, fine.Stay,” he grunted.

I really considered the man behind Zain, adjusting my eyes to see him more clearly—and that’s when I realized this wasn’t a man at all. As he drew closer, I saw beyond his hair, as he shoved it out of the way. His skin was translucent, so pale I could see the mapping of veins beneath it. But that wasn’t the most jarring thing—it was his eyes. They were completely black. The man suddenly bounded toward us—or rather Zain, since I just happened to be there. He lunged at Zain, hands wrapping around his neck, and pushed him against the concrete wall. It all happened so quickly. I stood there, stock-still, watching the boy I was just speaking to now being strangled.

Zain didn’t seem particularly concerned, though, his face relatively relaxed while being choked. Then, in one swift move, Zain shoved the thing off him, the force of it powerful enough to send the man flying into the bins opposite us. I was surprised no one had come out to see what was going on with the noise the impact made. I was desperately wishing someone would. I remained rooted to the spot, holding my breath.

The thing scrambled, and instead of bothering Zain, it set its sights on me. I was about to bolt when in a blink the thing was inches from me. Instinctively, my nose screwed up. It stank. Of smoke, heavy and overpowering, as though the smell was wrapping itself around my body. My eyes shifted anywhere but at the thing across from me. I took a step back and its handraised, like it intended to slash my face. I took another step back and banged into a wall, the brick rough against my shoulder.

Its head tilted. “You look just like your mother,” it said, eyes boring into mine.

“What?”

Then the thing was yanked away from me, and Zain had its head between his hands. It was a tender touch, like he was caressing a lover, until he twisted the thing’s head to one side, snapping its neck. I had never once considered what sound a neck would make when being broken. The piercingcrackwas something I would never forget.

Reflexively, I looked away but then forced myself to gaze back at the scene. Only now, the thing was no longer there. It had disappeared. Zain stood with his back against the wall opposite me, head down, until his eyes shot over to me.

And that was when I ran the hell out of there.

5

I saw a person get their neck snapped.

Not a person…a demonic-looking thing.

Snapped by the boy in my dreams.

I returned home breathless from my run. Luckily, no one, or thing, seemed to have followed me. I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down before my dad and Ehsan returned. Dad had gone to meet some of his new colleagues, while Ehsan was next door playing with his new friend. I was glad no one was home yet; I had seen too much to pretend to be normal.