DESCENDANTS OF AZAZEL

Chapter Three: Things We Don’t Say

Chapter Three: Things We Don’t Say

I didn’t sleep.

Not properly, anyway.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard that heartbeat again.

Thump.

Thump.

Then my father’s voice.

Go back upstairs.

I had spent most of the night trying to convince myself that I had imagined the whole thing.

It was easy to blame exhaustion.

The fire alarm.

The smoke.

The adrenaline.

Maybe my brain had simply connected random sounds and turned them into something that wasn’t there.

That explanation should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

By six in the morning, I gave up trying to sleep.

I got out of bed, showered, dressed, and stood in front of the mirror.

The cut on my forehead was almost gone.

I touched it.

Nothing.

No pain.

Not even the tenderness I would normally expect from a wound I’d gotten less than twelve hours earlier.

I leaned closer to the mirror.

There was still a faint red line.

But that was it.

I frowned.

“How?”

I didn’t know.

And lately, I was beginning to realize that there were a lot of things I didn’t know.

I left my room.

The house was quiet.

I walked downstairs.

Mom was already in the kitchen.

She looked over her shoulder.

“You’re awake early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“Nothing.”

She studied me.

Mothers had a strange ability to know when you were lying.

At least mine did.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

She placed a plate on the table.

“Sit.”

I sat.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she asked, “How’s your head?”

I looked up.

“Fine.”

“Your father said you broke a window yesterday.”

“It was an emergency.”

“I know.”

She sighed.

“I’m not angry.”

“Good.”

“But you have to be careful.”

“I was careful.”

She gave me a look.

I smiled.

“Okay. Maybe not.”

She shook her head.

“You’ve always been like this.”

“Like what?”

“Running toward problems instead of away from them.”

I laughed.

“That’s not true.”

She looked at me.

I stopped laughing.

“Okay. Maybe a little.”

She smiled.

For a moment, everything felt normal again.

Then Dad walked into the kitchen.

He looked tired.

More tired than I had ever seen him.

He sat across from me.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

He reached for his coffee.

Mom looked at him.

“You slept?”

“A little.”

She frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

I looked at him.

He didn’t look at me.

Something passed between my parents.

A glance.

Quick.

Almost invisible.

But I noticed it.

“What?”

Dad looked up.

“What?”

“You’re acting weird.”

Mom laughed softly.

“Your father is always weird.”

“Hey.”

Dad smiled.

But it didn’t reach his eyes.

He stood.

“I need to make a call.”

He walked toward the hallway.

I watched him disappear.

Something was wrong.

I just didn’t know what.

⸻

Ravenwood High felt different the next morning.

Maybe it was because everyone was talking about yesterday.

Or maybe it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The moment I stepped through the entrance, I heard whispers.

“That’s him.”

“The guy who went inside.”

“I heard he pulled the girl out.”

“Someone said the room exploded.”

“No, there wasn’t even a fire.”

“Then why did the alarm go off?”

I kept walking.

Danny appeared beside me.

“Congratulations.”

“For what?”

“You’re famous.”

I groaned.

“Great.”

“You’re basically a hero now.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted.”

He laughed.

“Seriously, though. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Danny looked at me suspiciously.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been weird since yesterday.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Maybe.”

He didn’t believe me.

Neither did I.

We reached our lockers.

Malcolm was already there.

He was reading something.

“You’re reading again?”

He looked up.

“Yes.”

“At seven in the morning?”

“Yes.”

Danny shook his head.

“You’re going to grow up to be eighty years old.”

Malcolm ignored him.

Instead, he looked at me.

“Your forehead.”

“What about it?”

“It’s healed.”

I touched it.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

I shrugged.

“It’s a small cut.”

“It wasn’t that small yesterday.”

I looked at him.

“Were you keeping track?”

“You bled through the bandage.”

I hadn’t remembered that.

Malcolm closed his book.

“That’s unusual.”

“It’s not.”

He stared at me.

I stared back.

Danny looked between us.

“Can we not turn this into a medical documentary before first period?”

Malcolm smiled.

“Fine.”

The bell rang.

We started walking.

As we turned the corner, I saw Maya.

She was standing beside the lockers, talking to Nora.

Our eyes met.

She looked away immediately.

I didn’t know why.

Then I noticed someone else.

Adrian Blake.

He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Adrian was one of those people everyone knew.

He played football.

He was popular.

Teachers liked him.

Girls liked him.

Even people who didn’t like him usually respected him.

His eyes were on Maya.

Then they moved to me.

For a moment, his expression changed.

It wasn’t surprise.

It wasn’t curiosity.

It was recognition.

Then he smiled.

A normal smile.

Almost.

“Morning,” he said.

I nodded.

“Morning.”

He walked past me.

As he did, his shoulder brushed mine.

Nothing happened.

But I noticed something strange.

His hand briefly tightened into a fist.

Like he’d felt something.

I turned around.

He was already walking away.

Maya was watching me again.

I was starting to get tired of people acting like I was a puzzle they had already solved.

⸻

By third period, I had almost forgotten about Adrian.

Almost.

English class was usually my favorite because it was one of the few classes where nobody cared about football.

Ms. Parker handed back our essays.

“Good work, everyone.”

She stopped beside my desk.

“Jack.”

I looked up.

“Yes?”

“Your essay was excellent.”

I blinked.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She placed it on my desk.

I looked at the grade.

A.

I smiled.

Danny leaned across the aisle.

“What did you get?”

I showed him.

He looked offended.

“You?”

“What?”

“You got an A?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unbelievable.”

I laughed.

“Why?”

“Because you’re secretly smart.”

“I’m not secretly anything.”

I didn’t know how ironic that sentence would become.

Ms. Parker continued teaching.

I tried to focus.

Then something strange happened.

I heard a pencil drop.

Not in our classroom.

Somewhere outside.

I looked toward the door.

A second later, I heard footsteps.

Far away.

Then a locker slammed.

I looked around.

Nobody reacted.

I frowned.

Another sound.

A girl laughing.

Then a teacher speaking.

All of it was faint.

But I could hear every word.

I turned toward Danny.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

I looked toward the hallway.

“Nothing.”

He shrugged.

I looked back at my desk.

My hands were shaking slightly.

I clenched them.

This was getting weird.

⸻

At lunch, I went outside alone.

I needed air.

I sat beneath the oak tree where Danny and Malcolm usually ate.

For once, I wanted silence.

I closed my eyes.

The school seemed distant.

Then I heard footsteps.

I opened my eyes.

Amy stood in front of me.

“Can I sit?”

I moved over.

“Sure.”

She sat.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

Then she smiled.

“You’ve been avoiding people today.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I’m tired.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

I laughed.

“You noticed?”

“Of course.”

She looked at me.

“You saved someone yesterday.”

“I just happened to be there.”

“You still went back.”

I shrugged.

“I couldn’t leave her.”

Amy smiled.

“That tells me something.”

“What?”

“That you’re a good person.”

I didn’t know what to say.

So I looked away.

She laughed quietly.

“You get shy very easily.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

I looked at her.

She was smiling.

For some reason, my heart started beating faster.

Not because of anything supernatural.

Just because she was sitting beside me.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe she liked talking to me.

Maybe.

Before I could say anything, a football came flying toward us.

I caught it.

I hadn’t even thought about it.

One second it was in the air.

The next, it was in my hand.

Amy stared at me.

I stared at the ball.

Danny stood twenty feet away.

“Nice catch!”

I threw it back.

The football flew across the field.

Too far.

It hit the hands of a student standing near the goal.

He caught it.

Everyone laughed.

I smiled nervously.

Amy looked at me.

“That was a good throw.”

“Thanks.”

I didn’t tell her that I’d thrown it harder than I intended.

I didn’t know how I knew exactly how much force to use.

I just did.

⸻

The rest of the school day passed without anything major happening.

Or at least, nothing I could explain.

After the final bell, I packed my bag.

Danny had football practice.

Malcolm had a study group.

Amy left with Chloe.

I was alone.

I headed toward the parking lot.

Then I heard someone behind me.

“Jack.”

I turned.

Maya.

Again.

“What?”

She walked closer.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Yesterday, when you were in the science room…”

She stopped.

“What did you hear?”

I frowned.

“I already told you.”

“No. You told me you heard the girl’s heartbeat.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked at me for several seconds.

“Did you hear anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

I thought about it.

“No.”

She looked relieved.

I noticed.

“You keep asking me strange questions.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

She looked around the hallway.

Nobody was nearby.

Then she lowered her voice.

“Because yesterday wasn’t an accident.”

My stomach tightened.

“What do you mean?”

“The alarm.”

“What about it?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a fire.”

“I know.”

“The alarm wasn’t the important part.”

“Then what was?”

Maya looked directly into my eyes.

“You were.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

She stepped closer.

“Someone wanted to see what you would do.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

Before I could ask anything else, a voice came from behind us.

“Maya.”

She turned.

Adrian stood at the end of the hallway.

His expression was serious.

Maya’s face changed.

“Adrian.”

“Come here.”

She hesitated.

Then she looked at me.

“Don’t tell anyone about this conversation.”

“What conversation?”

She walked away.

I watched her join Adrian.

They spoke quietly.

Then Adrian looked back at me.

This time, there was no smile.

He looked almost afraid.

⸻

Dad wasn’t home when I arrived.

Mom was in the kitchen.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Work.”

“He didn’t come home?”

“He went back out.”

I dropped my bag.

“Is everything okay?”

She looked at me.

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t believe her.

I went upstairs.

I closed my bedroom door.

Then I noticed something on my desk.

A small envelope.

No name.

No address.

Just my initials.

J.C.

I stared at it.

I hadn’t seen it there that morning.

I picked it up.

It was heavier than it looked.

I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

An old photograph.

Black and white.

The picture showed a group of people standing outside what looked like an old stone building.

I turned it over.

There was writing on the back.

Only one sentence.

He survived.

I stared at the words.

My breathing slowed.

Then I noticed something else.

A boy stood near the center of the photograph.

He couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

He looked directly into the camera.

I brought the photograph closer.

Something about his face felt familiar.

Not similar.

Familiar.

Like I had seen him before.

But that was impossible.

The photograph looked decades old.

Maybe more.

I turned it over again.

There was another line beneath the first.

And now he has returned.

I dropped the photograph.

It landed on the floor.

My bedroom suddenly felt colder.

I stepped backward.

Then I heard something outside my window.

A soft scrape.

I turned.

The curtain moved.

There was no wind.

I slowly approached the window.

My hand reached for the curtain.

I pulled it aside.

Nothing.

Just the street.

Empty.

I exhaled.

Then my eyes caught something across the road.

A figure standing beneath a streetlight.

A man.

He was looking directly at my bedroom window.

I blinked.

The light flickered.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes seemed almost unnaturally bright.

Then the streetlight went dark.

When it came back on—

he was gone.

I stepped away from the window.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

You need to stop asking questions.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

Your family already knows what you are.

My heart stopped.

A third message arrived.

Ask your father about the Ark.

I read it twice.

Then a fourth message appeared.

If he tells you the truth, you won’t look at him the same way again.

I stood completely still.

Downstairs, I heard the front door open.

Dad was home.

I looked at the phone.

Then at my bedroom door.

For the first time in my life, I wondered whether my father had been lying to me.

And somewhere in the darkness outside, someone was watching the house.

Waiting.

Not for Jack to discover the truth.

But for him to start looking for it.