Guardians: The Girl (The Guardians Series, Book 1)(14)

“Their deaths were very violent. Every collector they have always takes them back to the end of their lives. It’s called Spreading. That means the violence and blood from their life on Earth is so profound, it has seeped into every memory they have. Even after death.” Marcus says.

“How’d they die?” Even as I ask, I know he won’t answer me. Like Rio, Marcus isn’t keen on sharing the secrets of others.

“You should eat something,” he says.

I put a piece of ham in my mouth. It’s so good, I take four more thick slices. Jay is the best cook I’ve ever known. I’d tell him, but he hasn’t come back yet. Plus, I have a feeling he already knows how good he is. I try some of the vegetables and it comes as no surprise that they, too, are delicious.

I turn back to Marcus. He and the twins are joking around about something I didn’t catch.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Last week, Reese and Jay were racing to see who could get to school faster. Reese lost focus and ended up inside the women’s bathroom at a nursing home,” Miku laughs.

“Where he scared an 80-year-old woman half to death,” Rio adds.

The thought of Reese and that scared old lady has me cracking up. Then both he and Jay reappeared.

“Reese, you didn’t tell me you were into mature women. I have a neighbor—she’s only 65, but she’s got nice legs. What do you say?” I ask him with a straight face.

Jay knows instantly what we were talking about. He laughs so much, the rest of us start up again. Reese shakes his head. “Okay, okay. You know what? Make fun, but I’m a good and decent angel. Not only did I revive her, I promised to be her date for the prom.”

“You what?” Jay says laughing so hard he can barely get out his words.

Reese answers with pride, “That’s right. The Martin and Sylvia Tannenbaum Center for Assisted Living is having their Annual Seniors’ Senior Prom Night. This year’s theme is ‘Sunset Serenade!’”

Jay struggles to speak but can’t stop laughing. The twins are beside themselves. I look over at Marcus and he’s laughing as well. I’ve never seen him laugh. It looks good on him. Even Ameana can’t help but join in.

“If you need any dance moves, ask Emmy. She’s got some great moves.” He looks at me and smiles. He’s never done that. Even though I hate him, it’s good to see him happy.

Over the course of the next hour, Jay disappears three times. When he reappears after the third time, looking somewhat sad, Marcus suggests he not eat anymore. Reese has another glass of river water and comes back laughing. He tells us about catching a fish even bigger than his dad’s. The twins start boxing everything up to take to the shelter. We have hardly eaten anything.

I had a few slices of ham and a turkey wing. I found out angels can’t eat meat because then they flash back to the memory of that animal. And it’s usually the last moments of their lives, and, just like the twins, the animal comes to a bloody end.

The food is packed up nicely and put into containers. I offer to hand it out with them, but Marcus comments on the time. I look at my watch and realize it is almost eleven—past my curfew. Marcus says he’ll take me home.

Jay volunteers to glide me, but Marcus says he will do it since Jay had been planning on going to the mission all week. He also reminds me that my mom won’t get home until sometime after one. So I calm down and say goodnight to everyone.

Marcus goes into the garage and comes out in a sleek black car. It looks overdone and way too fancy for my neighborhood. “What kind of car is this?” I ask as I get in.

“A Lamborghini Gallardo. I know that because Jay wouldn’t stop talking about it for the first three weeks he had it. We ran down a Runner and Jay took his car after we killed him.”

“So, this is Jay’s?”

“They are all his.”

“How many does he have?”

“Ten or so,” Marcus says, like he’s talking about skateboards.

“Where does he keep them?” I want to know.

“Around the city.”

“It’s so flashy. I don’t think I like it.”

“Because you don’t like flashy or because you don’t think you deserve to sit in it?” Marcus grills.

“A little of both I guess,” I say.

“It’s just a car. It can be crumbled and broken like any other. And, believe it or not, this is one of his least conspicuous cars.”

“What about Siren?”

“I’ve thought about stopping him from taking the cars, but he’s like a kid when he first gets them. I can’t bring myself to tell him to take them back. He goes through about five cars every few weeks. But Siren is his favorite.”

“How do you guys get away with having so much?”

“Most people make up their own theory about us; students from other countries with rich parents or that sort of thing. Every once in a while we have someone who wants to know everything. So, we send Jay to suggest they never inquire about us again. He doesn’t like doing it, but we can’t just put out a banner saying, Angels here.”

“You can’t be under the radar with these cars,” I reason.

“Jay says so long as he’s chasing Runners he might as well do so in style. According to him, life is too short to drive a hatchback.”

“I guess it makes sense.”

“When we first got here, Jay was tracking a Runner. They went a few short rounds and Jay killed him. Then he went around the block opening car doors in order to find which one belonged to the now deceased Runner. Turns out the Runner had just lost everything and the only thing he could afford was a 1988 Daewoo Charade. It was so broken down that Jay had to call Ameana to come and use her powers to get the car inside the garage,” Marcus recounts, enjoying the memory.

I laugh along with him. “How long did it take him to find a new Runner whose car he could take?”

“Only a few days, but you should have seen the look on his face when he needed a screwdriver to start the car. Reese would stop recharging just to go over to the window and watch Jay kick, scream and threaten the car to work. It became a test of wills.”

“And the car won?”

“Every time.”

I laugh so much my eyes fill with water.

I lean back into the cozy crimson leather interior and enjoy the heated seats and leg room. “This is kind of nice,” I admit.

We drive the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, like two people who have known each other a long time. It doesn’t take long to get home. It would have taken half as long if Jay were driving because Jay doesn’t believe in things like stop signs and red lights.

Once we pull up to my building, it begins to snow. The light flakes fall on to the windshield and melt away quickly. I’m mesmerized by their random pattern. They don’t know where they’ll fall, they just go along with the wind.

I am too busy looking out the window to hear him call my name. He touches my arm.

“We’re here,” he says.

“Sorry, I spaced out.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“The snow. It’s beautiful. But it has to give itself into the wind and go any which way the wind blows.”

“That’s what makes it beautiful. They trust each other,” he hints.

“Well, that old lady trusted the locks on the bathroom door and look what happened to her,” I joke.

He laughs, “Yeah, that could not have been pretty.”

I lean in closer and shift my head to the side. My lips make contact with his. I press slightly into him. His lips are the softest thing on this planet. And even though it is cold outside, they are warm and impossibly delicious. I am certain I’ll never pull away from him without help.

As if reading my mind, he gently pulls away from me. I open my eyes and look at him. I’m expecting to see any number of emotions—shock, confusion, maybe even a smile. But what I see on his face is something I could not have prepared for: outright disapproval.

My face crumbles, panic washes over me. I run out of the car. He calls my name, but I keep running. I go to my room and flop down on the bed. Ms. Charlotte curls up with me. I cry until we both fall asleep.



I wake up wanting to put last night out of my head. So it stands to reason that everything I do reminds me of last night. I try not to replay the horrible moment, but it’s really out of my control.

It’s Saturday morning and everything in my house is screaming “loser.” My toaster did it when it popped up with the bread. My kitten slippers keep squeaking “loser” every time they hit the floor. I take a spoon of my alphabet cereal and it spells “loser.” Okay, it didn’t spell out “Loser” but it did spell out “Uoser” which is close enough.

I’ve never been in love. I don’t know if I am now, but whatever this is, it hurts. And according to like a billion love songs, if it hurts, it’s love. I am completely ill-equipped for this.

I can’t believe I kissed him. How could I have been so stupid and crazy? I go back to that point in my head every ten seconds. The car, the story about Jay, the snow and then….

I shudder at the memory yet again. How embarrassing. How truly mortifying to kiss someone who so obviously doesn’t want you. I could move away. Yes, I could go far away and never step foot in New York City again. Where would I go? Kansas. Yes, Kansas. No one ever says, “Hey, let’s leave New York to go to Kansas.” That means no one I know will move there.