I stop kissing him. Straightening, I search his stormy-green eyes again. “But that’s cruel,” I murmur warily.

Reed laughs mirthlessly. “Ask Will if he thought that dying right before his wedding was cruel, and then ask him how much he enjoyed watching his love marry his best friend. Maybe then you will begin to understand that what I am saying is relevant,” he explains, setting me back on my feet in front of him.

My eyes plead with his as I say, “You are wrong, and I will prove it to you. No matter how hard it is. You are meant for me.”

“No one wants to be proven wrong more than I do,” Reed says tiredly. “Everything about you calls to me. Your skin begs me to touch it, and when I do it burns me like a drug and I want more. You are like a cut that never heals. I just keep bleeding,” Reed says while he disengages from my embrace. He nudges me gently toward the front of the building. “You had better hurry, your friends are waiting for you in the parking lot, and I can hear Remy’s car, filled with angry frat boys, coming down the street.”

“I don’t care about that,” I say, but Reed interrupts me.

“I have to go, Evie. I should not have come here tonight… I could not stay away, when I heard your heart,” he says, and turning away from me, he is gone in an instant.

“Reed!” I yell, but he doesn’t come back. “You love me…”

Buns and Brownie are in the parking lot when I pull myself together enough to make it to the car. Jumping in the backseat, I mutter, “Remy’s on his way; we’d better go.”

I change back into normal clothing as Buns speeds away unseen. We go to the library as planned, emailing the ransom photos to the Delt House web master under a contrived user name. We go back to our dormitory, and I say goodnight to the girls. I stay awake awhile, trying to figure out a way to disprove a negative. How am I going to get Reed to see that Russell and I are impossible, that only he and I are right for each other?

“What a bunch of whiny little mama’s boys!” Brownie rants when we all meet up in her room after classes the next day. “I honestly didn’t think they’d get the administration involved with this, since this is what they do to us every stinking year!”

“Sweetie, I told you we shouldn’t have given Remy a four. He’s the president, and we totally owned him,” Buns says, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. She and Brownie had been hauled in for questioning by the Dean of Men because the Delts had reported the theft of the composite and named them as suspects.

Buns goes over every nuance of the interview with Dean Andrews in minute detail. He couldn’t make them confess to anything, so he had to let them off with a warning. “Anyway, it’s nearly time for karmic retribution. Our whole house is ready,” Buns announces to Brownie and me.

“All right, mount up, we’re moving out,” Brownie says as she tightens the thigh holster of her automatic paintball gun.

The fitted camouflage cargo pants and t-shirts we purchased for the occasion look excellent on her. She hands me the yellow-tinted shooting glasses that complete my equipment. I check the safety on my paintball gun as we head out to the Golden Goose and drive out to Arden Lake. When we arrive, I see that trenches are already dug on the sandy beach with ammunition set up at intervals along them. Buns and Brownie give a rousing speech about payback for the rating system, which gets the girls fired up. I make sure that my backpack is well stocked with paintball ammo and get into position in the trench between Buns and Brownie.

The Delts prove to be wily adversaries, we realize as we watch several carloads of young men arrive at the beach. They recruited just about every freshman boy they could find to aid them in their war against us. They are uncharitable about it as well, using the freshmen as infantry soldiers, throwing them at us first to deplete our ammunition before they engage in the fight.

“Cowards!” Brownie taunts them, picking off several freshmen in front of her. “We have to move out of the trenches, or all we’ll hit are the freshmen,” she yells to Buns and me, then turns to the other girls and gives the order to storm the beach.

Moving out of the trenches and up the beach toward the Delts, it is apparent they have come prepared with their own paintball guns in tow. The beach rapidly becomes mayhem. My improved vision gives me a huge advantage over everyone else. I am able to put a paint slug anywhere I want to on any opponent. I manage to hit Remy several times in the chest and a couple of times in the trigger hand, making him drop his weapon and run back toward the parking lot for cover.

Unfortunately, I also see who picks up Remy’s weapon. Russell trains the gun on me, and with an evil grin on his face, his first round of bullets rain on me like rice at a wedding. I manage to get off a couple shots before I have to retreat. My gun needs to be reloaded, but there is no way I am going to be given the opportunity to do so, because with Russell’s long strides, he will be on me in a matter of seconds. If only I could use my speed to evade him, but I can’t expose myself, so I am doomed.

I almost make it off the beach to a secluded picnic area before I am tackled from behind, dropping to a soft landing in the sand. It doesn’t hurt, and I lie there laughing as Russell’s arms loosen their grip from around my legs. Rolling me over onto my back, he takes my gun from me, tossing it away into the sand. A triumphant look crosses his face as he gazes down at me, covered as I am in blotches of paint from head to toe.

“Surrender,” he says in a deep southern drawl.

“Never!” I giggle at him, wondering who has brought him here.

“Ahh, so, it’s to be torture, is it?” he asks as he tickles me without leniency.

“Mercy!” I say, laughing. “Anything, just stop!”

“Anythin’, well now, Red, ya asked for it,” and before I can object, Russell bends down, pressing his lips to mine in a deep, heated kiss that takes me off guard in its intensity.

For a few moments, I respond to the heat of his kiss, because it is like being home…safe…it feels as if I have been kissing him all my life, even though this is the first time. But, it is more than that; it is like I have loved him all my life, or much, much longer. Even as my soul soars high, urging me to continue the kiss, the angel part of me is livid and is now actively trying to push Russell away from me. That part of me will never be satisfied with anything but Reed, no matter how he feels about me.

The intense heat and physical upheaval that hits me every time I am near Reed is not there with Russell. I don’t know if it is angel vs. human attraction, or if it is just a primal thing I have for Reed, but I crave it, and I want nothing less than all of it. Russell draws back at my insistence, looking down on me with smoldering eyes because he had felt my initial response to his kiss.

“So, there’s hope after all, Red,” Russell says, almost to himself as he sits down next to me in the sand. “I knew y’all loved me.”

“Russell I can’t…” I say, rising to my elbows.

He interrupts me, saying in a serious tone, “Ya know, I’ve thought a lot about the first night we were here at the lake together.” He is not looking at me, but out at the tranquil water. “I always wonder what would’ve happened if I’d kissed ya then, before Reed had shown up. If I’d kissed ya, would ya have been less wrapped up in him?” he asks me rhetorically, while pulling his hand through his tawny hair. Then, he looks at me with his warm brown eyes and continues, “I know ya don’t know, but it’s just one thing about all of this that tortures me.”

“I’m sorry, Russell…” I say, wanting to cry.

“Shhh,” he says, picking up my hand and kissing the top of it. “Come on. Don’t let me ruin yer perfectly good war that y’all worked so hard on,” he smiles. He pulls me up and dusts the sand off of me like I am a child. “Red, yer a pretty good shot. I thought ya had me until y’all ran out of ammo.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, still choking on the guilt that hits me twofold now. I feel guilty for betraying Reed and guilty for hurting Russell again. Does this never end?

Retrieving my gun from where Russell had thrown it, I walk with my head down, so I won’t have to look Russell in the eyes. When we get back to the main part of the beach, the war is all but over. Buns and Brownie are negotiating terms with Remy and a few other Delt officers. It is agreed that the Delts will get the last clue to the composite’s whereabouts tomorrow at their costume party.

Russell squeezes my hand as we near the girls. “I have to find Mason and get a ride back to the dorms with him. I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, okay?” he asks with concern clouding his eyes. I nod my head, trying to smile at him, but it falls short. “Don’t worry, Red, everything will work out. Trust me,” he whispers in my ear. His cheek brushes mine when he draws back to smile at me sweetly before jogging away with an easy grace to catch up with Mason.

Buns, Brownie, and I are walking back to the Golden Goose when JT pulls up next to us in a black Range Rover. “Hey, Buns!” JT yells as he stands up through the sunroof of the vehicle. We stop and stare at JT, or what we can see of him with all of the windows blacked out like a diplomatic vehicle. Hearing him is certainly a problem too, since the car’s stereo vibrates the pavement beneath our feet, drowning out everything else.

JT pops his head back into the car, turning the stereo down so that it is no longer sub woofing. “Want to go for a ride, ladies?” JT asks when he comes back up. “Pete and I are going to go to the Seven-Eleven—get slurpees—drive around—play some insane music,” JT says. The passenger side window of the SUV rolls down and Pete becomes visible in the driver’s seat.

“That could be gnar, what do you think?” Buns asks us enthusiastically.

“Sure, why not?” Brownie shrugs, engaging the safety to her gun, and then all eyes are on me.

I am about to decline and tell them that I would see them later. Reed had made me promise not to go to the 7-Eleven without him. Reed, I think and feel paralyzed. Intense pain that I have been keeping at bay rushes through me like a bitter poison. Then, the memory of Russell’s kiss assails my senses. A deep scalding pain pierces my heart as the angel and the soul that make up who I am tear at each other like vicious enemies.

I just want it to end; I want the pain to stop, I think miserably. I am so tired, not in a physical way, but weary in a way that no amount of sleep or rest will help. Suddenly, I am in a rush to get to the 7-Eleven. I want to hasten my fate, not to run from it. I want it to be over.

“Let’s go,” I say, opening the back door of the SUV and climbing in.

“Tight.” JT says from the passenger’s seat as I slip over to the opposite door, allowing room for Brownie and Buns. Pete turns the stereo back up, but not as loud as before, and we head off.

Rolling my window down, I close my eyes, feeling the wind blowing on my face. Whatever is going to happen, it seems preferable to the constant ache in my chest. When we arrive at the 7-Eleven, I am the first one out of the car. Instrumental music plays softly as I move past the cash register and the clerk with the red smock uniform. I turn down the back aisle of the store, walking swiftly to the light that had given me the smack down and positioning myself directly beneath it.

I stand there waiting for something to happen…anything, because I just want this to be done. The light flickers once. Adrenaline flashes into my system, causing my heart to race as I flinch a little, anticipating the deafening blast of sound that is the prelude to the insanity. Seconds tick by, but nothing happens. I gaze up at the light, trying to stare it down and bend it to my will for once.

“Hey, sweetie, do you want a cherry or a blue raspberry?” Buns calls to me from the slurpee machine in the front of the store.

Crushing disappointment hits me then. Nothing is happening. What do I want to happen? I think, looking down at the floor. The color drains from my face when I think about what I am doing here. Do I really want my premonition to happen? That would mean carnage and destruction for everyone in the store, I assess and panic, looking from Buns to Brownie.

Intending to get my friends out of here immediately, I take a step forward, but a flash of red stops me. A teardrop of crimson stains the tile at my feet before a few more drips falling from above spatter onto the floor. Blood? I wonder in confusion.

As I freeze in indecision, something shiny drops from the light above to the floor. Going down on one knee, I pick it up from the ground. My hand shakes as I quickly turn the blood-smeared silvery pendants over in my hand. The circular pendant makes a soft sound as it rubs against the metal of the infinity symbol. Russell’s necklace…my mind races. I clutch the worn, leather strap tightly in my palm. It came through the light— with blood.

Suddenly, I am moving to the front of the store. I have to get my friends out of here. “I’ll take a cherry, Buns.” I say, moving to her side and helping her put the arching plastic lid on the cup. I pull her along by the elbow, feeling relief that Pete, JT, and Brownie are already cashed out. It takes longer than I think it should for the cashier to make change for the ten I hand her for the slurpees.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Buns asks me. “You’re sweating,” she observes as we leave the convenience store and get into the Range Rover.

“I’m not feeling very well,” I murmur. “Can you guys drop me off at our dorm?” I ask, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.

“Sure, Evie, we have to get the car back anyway.” JT replies, and turns the stereo way up.

When I get back to the dorm, I say goodnight to Brownie and Buns, then head to my room. The second that I am in, I am on the phone dialing Russell’s number. My hand is shaking so badly, I can hardly hold the phone to my ear. Russell answers on the second ring, “Hello, darlin’,” he says with a slow, sexy drawl.

“Russell,” I say breathlessly as relief floods through my entire body. Sinking to my knees on the floor, I want to ask him if he is okay, but that would make me sound like a psycho, so instead, I say in a tight voice, “Uh, hi, Russell. I was wondering, did you lose your necklace?”

“Wow, yeah, I just noticed a few minutes ago that it was missin’, did ya find it?” he asks me excitedly.

I close my eyes as I think, you could say I found it, or you could say something gave it to me.

“Yeah, I found it,” I murmur in a strained tone.

Russell sounds puzzled as he asks, “Was it at the lake?”

“Uh huh, I’ve got to go, Russell. I’ll bring it with me to breakfast tomorrow,” I answer him quickly. I don’t know what to tell him, or what not to tell him, but it is clear now that Russell is in this, no matter how much I wish it otherwise.

I need to protect him, but I don’t know how to do that, I think, feeling utterly helpless. The only thing I am sure of is that I’ve been completely naїve, thinking that I am going to be able to save Russell from this.

“Sure, Red. Are ya okay? I mean, ‘bout the lake and the… kiss?” he asks with concern in his voice. “I didn’t mean to push ya, it’s just that ya looked so happy in that moment and…”

“I’m okay, Russell,” I reply in a gentle tone. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll see y’all tomorrow. Goodnight, Red,” he says, and there is something in his tone that is like a caress. It makes my breath catch.

I end the call and sit on the floor, clutching Russell’s necklace in my fist. Finally, I rise, gather my toiletries, and I walk down the hall to shower. Standing under the raining water, I let it beat on me as I cry silently. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay, I think like a mantra, trying to get the blackness of dread to leave my soul. I clean all of the blood off the necklace so that I won’t have to explain it when I give it back.

Returning to my room, I towel dry my hair and brush it out. I slip into a white t-shirt and some underwear. I am so keyed up that I need to find something to distract me from the horrible thoughts going on in my mind. I sit down at my computer and type an email to Uncle Jim.

Nearly finished with my correspondence, filled with disgustingly happy lies, I pause, feeling the first stirrings of butterflies in my stomach. My heart skips a beat, like it always does when I feel Reed nearby. Then my heart sinks again, because I know from the last weeks it won’t matter if he is near, he won’t unbend at all with me. So, when the fluttering grows in intensity with each passing moment, it becomes harder to concentrate on what I am doing.

I click the mouse to send my email just seconds before my windows open behind me. Not turning around, I try to remain calm as anxiety gnaws at me. Why is he here? I wonder to myself. Don’t get your hopes up; he’s not here because he wants to be, I tell myself as my stomach twists painfully.

“Genevieve! We have to talk. Now!” Reed barks from the fire escape. I jump in my seat. “Meet me in the parking lot,” he growls. “I will be in my Range Rover.”

“No,” I say, getting up from my chair and walking to the windows. “Goodnight, Reed,” I say, closing them firmly.

I see the look on his face; he is stunned. I glance down at myself, realizing I am only wearing my t-shirt and underwear. I don’t care. This is my room, I think, turning away from the window.

The windows open again, and before I can turn around, Reed is in my room. “We will talk about this,” he says in a low tone from just inside my window.

With his arms crossed over his bare chest and his arching, charcoal-colored wings exposed, he is every inch an avenging angel; he is also the most undeniably striking creature I’ve ever seen. My hands ball into fists, and I grit my teeth so that I won’t just cave in to his every whim. If he can be stupid and unreasonable, then so can I.

“There is nothing to talk about, Reed,” I reply, feeling raw and trapped. I’m going to lose everything. I lost Reed and now I’m poised to lose Russell, too, because I don’t know how to save him.

Reed’s eyes narrow in a predatory way. “We could discuss your trip to the Seven-Eleven tonight,” he shoots back.

“We could, but there is really nothing to tell,” I lie, raising my chin a notch, but since I am a lousy liar, he must’ve read it on my face. His wings twitch, and his eyes scan me like he is reassuring himself that I haven’t been physically hurt. “I’m fine, Reed,” I sigh.

Reed’s jaw is taut as he says, “Tell me what happened, now, before I lose it.”

My eyes widen. “Are you okay?” I ask him, because I’ve never seen him this upset.

His wings twitch again. “No, I’m not okay.

Deciding that I have to tell him before he explodes, I outline the whole story. When I show him Russell’s pendant, his I-need-to-smash-something face appears.

His lips harden in a grim line. “You are not to go there again,” he says in a stern tone with a note of finality.

My eyes soften as I ask, “Do you honestly believe that will be an option for me? I’m smart enough to know that I have an appointment there, whether I’m willing or not. I’m also smart enough to know that whatever is warning me about what is coming wants me to be prepared for it…like there is an opportunity to change the outcome.”

“Evie, you cannot go to the Seven-Eleven ever again,” Reed says, but this time he uses his persuasive voice, and it slithers and echoes in my ears like an annoying itch that I can’t scratch.