Beautiful Demons

19. This Town Isn't Like Other Places

"I don't understand."

My hands trembled as I held the drawing.

"I can't explain it exactly," Jackson said. "Sometimes I see things. I don't know when or where these images will come to me, and most of the time I don't know what the images mean until..." his voice trailed off. He stood and began to pace the room.

I swallowed. "Until what?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." He ran a hand through his hair. Normally, he wore it slightly spiked up in the front, but today it fell across his forehead and into his eyes, making him seem softer somehow.

The image was drawn on the plain white paper of the notebook. There was nothing special about it except the image itself. He had drawn it with a charcoal pencil and the level of detail was astonishing. At first glance, it looked only like a girl, me, standing in a room filled with flames. Look closer, though, and there was so much more.

A dark figure stood behind me in the shadows, a single lightning bolt moving across its face. And there, so consumed in flame I could hardly make it out, I saw the form of a demon. He was coming straight for me. There was something so familiar about the demon's face. Part gargoyle, part human. Its presence in the picture made me feel creepy and unsettled to the point of almost feeling paralyzed.

"You have to tell me, Jackson." My voice came out more demanding than I intended, but I had to know. "What does this picture mean?"

He stopped pacing, his back to me as he spoke again. "These drawings are of the future, Harper." He turned and our eyes met. "Whatever I draw always comes true, and it usually happens within days. Maybe a week. Maybe two if we're lucky."

My heart stopped beating for a moment. My breath caught in my throat and I looked down at the page. Was this a picture of my own death?

"No." I stood and slammed the paper against his chest. "This is ridiculous. No one can see the future. I was in a fire once when I was little. You must have heard your mother talking about it or something, so this is what came out when you sat down to draw. I am not going to die in fire. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not ever."

Jackson took the notebook from me and flipped several pages back. "I know it's hard to believe," he said. "Here."

He handed me the drawings and I gasped. I shook my head furiously. There, on the page, was a drawing of Tori Fairchild, still in her Demons uniform. Her body was burned and contorted, almost exactly in the same pose as the pictures I'd seen of her death. I turned it over on the bed and tried to control the growing nausea in my stomach.

"I'm sorry to have to show you that, Harper, but I'm afraid for you," he said. "I'm not supposed to share stuff like this with anyone. I learned a long time ago that I can't change the stuff in these drawings. I don't even know why I told you. There's just something about you, Harper. I wanted to, I don't know, help you. I wanted to do something for once instead of just stand by and watch it happen."

My breath came in quick, shallow bursts and my heart raced.

"I gotta get out of here," I said, pushing past him.

Jackson grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. His body was warm and tense against mine and I cursed myself for being so damn attracted to him. I yanked my arm to get away, but he held me tight until I stopped struggling and looked up into his warm green eyes.

"You don't understand," he said. "This town isn't like other places. I wish I could explain it to you, but I'm bound by an oath older than time. I'm already taking a risk by showing you this picture, but I don't want anything to happen to you. Maybe together we can find a way to stop this from coming true, but I need you to believe me."

His eyes pleaded with mine and something inside of me softened. I knew how he felt. Every time I tried to explain the strange things that happened in my life, people turned their back on me, refusing to listen to what I had to say. There were times when I didn't want to admit it, but there was something different about me. Something I couldn't control. But in this town, I wasn't the only one who was different. Deep down, I'd known it since the minute I first laid eyes on Shadowford.

My body relaxed and he loosened his grip on my arm. He pulled me close in a tight hug. I laid my head on his bare chest and breathed in the masculine scent of him. My arms circled around his waist, loose at first, then tighter. Jackson took my shoulders in his hands and leaned me back slightly. Nervously, I tilted my chin up toward his face.

"Harper," he whispered.

His lips slowly descended on mine and I rose up to meet him. He kissed me softly and the room around me felt as if it were spinning. A shiver ran up my spine as his hand moved to the back of my neck, urging me closer. My lips parted and our kiss deepened.

I pressed my body closer, lifting slightly onto my tiptoes and bringing my arms up around his neck. In that moment, we existed on a higher plane. I kept my eyes closed and felt him melt into me. A low groan sounded at the back of his throat, creating a strange need inside of me I had never felt before. My knees felt weak, my head light.

When he finally pulled away, I felt that the entire world had changed. I nuzzled my face against his chest.

"What do we do now?" I asked.

"We keep you safe," he said, kissing the top of my head.

I didn't understand everything that was going on in this strange town. I had no idea if the picture he'd drawn would really come true. But I knew he wouldn't lie to me. And I knew that he would be there for me. Some wall between us had come crashing down.

There in his arms, I felt safer than I ever dreamed I could.