down and not shriek my frustration with Erik up into the bruised gray of the sky.
At first I thought it was raining, but pretty quickly I realized it was more like the sky was spitting little pieces of ice. It wasn't coming down thick, but it was constant, and the parking lot, railroad tracks, and the side of the old depot building were already starting to take on the weird magical look of being gilded with ice.
"My truck's just over there." Heath pointed to where his truck was parked at the edge of the deserted parking lot under a tree that had obviously at one time been planted as an ornament near the sidewalk that wrapped around the depot. Years of being ignored and not pruned had really messed with it, though, and instead of fitting neatly into its circular opening in the cement, the tree had grown way bigger than it should have and its roots had broken the sidewalk around it. Its ice-slick limbs swayed precariously close to the old granite building; some of them were actually leaning on the roof. Just looking up at the tree made me cringe. If we got much more ice, the poor old thing was probably going to shatter into zillions of pieces.
"Here," Heath held one side of his coat up over my head. "Come on over to my truck so we can talk out of this mess."
I glanced around at the gray, soggy landscape. Nothing seemed frightening or freaky--as in half-man, half-bird grossness. It was just wet and cold and empty.
"Okay, yeah," I said, and let Heath lead me over to his truck. I probably shouldn't have let him hold his coat over me and tuck me close to his side while I clutched on to him to keep from falling on the ice-slick pavement, but it felt so familiar and easy to be with him that I didn't even hesitate. Let's face it, Heath's been in my life since I was in grade school. I was literally more comfortable with him than with anyone else in the world, except for my Grandma. No matter what was going on, or not going on, between us, Heath was like family to me. Actually, he's better than the vast majority of my family. It was hard to imagine trying to treat him all formally like he was a stranger. After all, Heath had been my friend before he'd become my boyfriend. But he can never just be my friend again; there'll always be more between us than that, whispered my conscience, but I ignored it. We got to his truck and Heath opened the door for me, the interior smelling of an odd, familiar mixture of Heath and Armor All. (Heath is a neat freak about his truck; I swear you could eat off the seats.) Instead of sliding in, I hesitated. Sitting next to him in the cab of his truck was just too intimate, too reminiscent of the years I had been his girlfriend. So instead, I pulled a little away from him and half sat, half leaned on the end of the passenger's seat, enough out of the icy rain to stay semidry. Heath gave me a sad smile, like he understood that I was doing my best to resist being with him again, and leaned against the insideasse his side Y of the open door.
"Okay, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"I don't like you being here. I don't remember everything, but I do remember enough to know that the tunnels down there are bad news. I know you said those undead kids have changed, but I still don't like you being down there with them. It doesn't seem safe," he said, looking serious and worried.
"Well, I don't blame you for thinking it's disgusting down there, but it really has changed. The kids are different, too. They have their humanity back. Plus, it's the safest place for us right now."
Heath studied my face for a long time, then he let out a heavy sigh. "You're the one who's the priestess and stuff like that, so you know what you're doing. It just feels weird to me. Are you sure you shouldn't go back to the House of Night? Maybe this fallen angel guy isn't as bad as you think he is."
"No, Heath, he's bad. Just trust me on this one. And the Raven Mockers are seriously dangerous. It's not safe to go back to school. You didn't