The Dirt on Ninth Grave(54)
Surely, if I'd stopped it, I could restart it again. How hard could it be? But before I even attempted such a feat, I had to do something about the robber while I could. An idea hit me instantly. I took off my apron. The material became stiff. It was still malleable, but once off me, it became like a bendable piece of plastic. It defied the law of gravity and every other law I could think of.
I hurried over to the robber, molded it to his face, and tied it around his head. It would be enough to fluster him when time returned. To throw him off his game. I pried the gun out of his fingers and pushed it onto the floor beside Lewis.
Then I stood back to examine my handiwork. I brushed my hands together at a job well done before checking out the others in the immediate vicinity.
What few customers we had sat terrified. They'd been caught in mid-scream or mid-duck, trying to scramble to safety. Cookie looked more confused than afraid. She'd been entering an order when all hell broke loose.
Oddly enough, Erin stood like a warrior princess. Her jaw jutting out. Her legs slightly apart. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. It was as though she had every intention of kicking the guy's ass. I felt an odd sense of admiration swell up in me. A camaraderie. And I suddenly wanted to be friends with her. Not like braid-each-other's-hair friends, but definitely more than just mortal enemies. Anyone who could stand up to danger like that deserved a closer look.
Shayla, the tiny wood nymph, stood at the workstation, her face the definition of shock, a hand thrown over her mouth as she looked on in horror. She'd screamed. The love of her life was in danger. I would've screamed, too.
Speaking of whom …
I walked over to Reyes. He still sat at the booth, his darkly handsome features full of anger, his rich brown eyes glittering with it.
Now was my chance. I sat on the edge of the bench beside him. Tucked a wayward curl behind his ear. Ran the backs of my fingers over his shadowed cheek and jaw. Then I leaned in and placed the tiniest kiss on his full mouth.
"I've loved you for a thousand years," I said, because it seemed true. To the core of my being. I was so drawn to him it hurt. I could only pray he'd get over his ex someday.
No. That was wrong. If I should pray for anything, it would be for his happiness, no matter who he ended up with. If he loved her, if he was devoted to his ex, then he deserved to have her. On the condition that she loved him back, of course.
In the distance, I heard a low rumble. I turned toward it. The earth began to quake beneath my feet. It sounded like a train. A speeding train that had every intention of crashing into the café. After a quick scan to assure myself there was no train despite the rumble growing louder and louder, I turned back to Reyes. He was gone.
Startled, I fell off the bench and landed on my ass. No one else had moved, not an inch, but Reyes had vanished.
The sound grew louder. I could feel the rumble deep in my chest. A split second before the train crashed into me, and time – yes, it was time roaring around me – bounced back into place, I saw the winged being again. In a flutter of soft white feathers and black down on the underneath, a man appeared. A stunning man with dark hair, a super-angry expression on his face, and a sword in his hand.
I scrambled back as he strode toward me, the same determination I'd seen on Lewis's face in his expression. He raised the sword when he got closer, and a scream wrenched from my throat.
I raised a hand as though to block the blow, certain that all I would accomplish was the loss of that hand. But it was a reflex. An automatic response to someone slicing me in two.
A heartbeat before he swung, the smoke appeared again. The same smoke I'd seen earlier in the storeroom. It billowed up and around the being. The angel. It had to be an angel.
The angel stopped, lowered first the sword, then his head. He kept a wary eye on the smoke. Tightened his hold on the hilt. Then, to my surprise, spoke.
The language had round vowels and soft consonants. It was ancient and graceful and untainted.
"Show yourself," he'd said, and somehow the fact that I knew a celestial language got lost in all the other crap going down.
The black fog ignored the command and continued to grow until it obscured my view of the angel completely. But I heard the clanging of swords even over the roaring train. Before I could make out what was happening, the train crashed into me. Time crashed into me. I felt like I'd jumped from a high cliff and splashed face-first into freezing cold water, the force was so jarring. It knocked my breath away, but at the last second, I remembered I was supposed to be with the robber.
I jumped to my feet and sprinted through the awakening of time. Movement that started out slow progressed quickly until, just as I slid into place beside the robber, it bounced back completely.