Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel)(34)

"Go," I say. "Shower. I'll pack your lunch."

"Thank you," he says. He pushes off the fridge and looks at me.

Is he going to cry?

He'd better not. I'm not dealing with that this morning.

"It's just a boxed lunch, Dad. You're not off the hook."

But it does feel kind of like a peace offering.

"No Pop-Tarts," he says.

He starts toward the bathroom, and I grab the phone from the living room. I dial Helene, but her phone goes straight to voice mail. I leave a message telling her to call me back, telling her I've seen Damien. No use in cryptic codes. If Damien's here, we're past that.

I dig Dad's lunch box-a small ice chest, really-out of the cupboard, and I jam in one of everything we have in the fridge. Except, of course, for the liquor. He'll have to settle for Gatorade-and a blue one at that. He hates the blue. Says it reminds him of maxi pad commercials-and yes, he calls them maxi pads. But I drop in the blue Gatorade and a strawberry Pop-Tart for good measure.

Beggars can't be choosers.

"Brielle."

I scream. It's impossible not to when Helene just appears in front of you.

She clamps a hand over my mouth, her voice hushed. "Your dad's here, yes?"

I nod, and she releases me. "In the shower. What's going on?"

"Damien."

The name barrels into my chest like a bulldozer.

How close is he? Is he here at my house or just here in Stratus?

But the questions die on my tongue. Her head turns violently to the right, and she disappears. Instinct pulls my head up and around, looking, looking. Wishing I could command my eyes to see the world as it really is.

But I can't.

The second hand on the clock twitches seventeen times before I make a decision. I run to the bathroom door and bang on it. I've got to get him out of here. The closer he is to me, the more danger he's likely to be in. "Dad! You're gonna be late. Hurry up!"

He hollers something back and turns off the water, but I'm already running through the house, looking for my phone.

Where is it?!

I lift the couch cushions and then shake out the blankets. I brush the curtains aside to check the window seat where I sat early this morning and watched Jake drive away. My phone's not there, but I catch sight of something else beyond the window.

Kaylee.

You have got to be kidding me!

She's pulling into my drive looking even more harried than normal. I dash back into the kitchen, colliding with Dad, who's standing in the arched entryway wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, brushing his teeth and staring at me like I've lost my mind.

"What are you looking for, kiddo?"

"My phone," I say. "Kaylee just pulled up, Dad, and you're naked! In the kitchen!"

"All right," he huffs. "I'm going. What's the herbivore doing here this early?"

I don't answer, but I notice he sounds better. Definitely smells better. Still, I have got to get him out of here.

And Kaylee too.

". . . don't have time for you to answer the door. Brielle, did you hear a word I just said?"

Kaylee's so close I can smell her cool mint toothpaste. She's still in her jammies, her hair tucked into a baseball bat, Tasmanian Devil slippers on her feet, hot-pink mascara lining her lashes.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Have you seen Helene?" she asks.

I lick my lips. "Why?"

"Because she showed up at my door-at the butt crack of dawn, by the way-asking if I'd seen Olivia and telling me we had to go. And then I, like, blinked or something, and she was gone."

"I don't . . ."

"I tried to call you, Elle. Where's your phone?"

I scrape my nails across my scalp. "That is a very good question."

And then I can see. Into the Celestial.

A wing dips low through the roof. White. Shining.

I duck.

Kaylee makes a face. "Whatcha doin'?"

I look up and I see.

Not the entirety of the Celestial.

Just Helene.

Just Damien.

Just their swords!

I duck again.

"You gonna tell me what's going on, homegirl, or would you rather I drive you to the sanitarium?"

Helene swings her blade again, spinning, spinning toward him. He's so much bigger than she is, but she's fast-wicked fast-her sword nothing but a blur against the morning sky.

I grab Kaylee's hand and drag her toward the door, yelling over my shoulder.

"Daaaad!"

And that's when my heart explodes.

Two white wings and a tiny body fall through the roof, and I shove Kaylee aside.

"Whoa, turbo!" she says, colliding with the counter.

But I can't concentrate on Kaylee now. Helene connects with the linoleum, her wings useless, her limbs splayed like pickup sticks on the floor.

"Helene!" I scream.

A smoking wound of black ice cuts across the thick cords of shimmering white that wrap her torso. I drop to the ground, to my knees, and wrap my trembling hand around hers. Her white eyes find mine, and I hear her voice in my head.

"The Palatine are coming."

Before I can ask what in Neverland she's talking about, she vanishes, her fading eyes the last thing I see.                       
       
           



       29



Brielle





The Palatine are coming."

"You've said that no less than twenty times, and I still have no idea what you're talking about."

I'm kneeling on the floor, the linoleum squares swimming before me.

"The Palatine-"

"Are coming," Kay says flippantly. "I got it. What exactly would you like me to do about it?"

"Who are they?" I whisper.

"I know you're not talking to me."

I'm not. I'm talking to Helene. My Shield. My beautiful, powerful, wounded Shield. How many times will that little angel be mangled in front of me?

"Kaylee?"

"Right here. On Planet Sanity, by the way. Whenever you're ready for a return trip."

"What happened?" I ask.

Kaylee's slippers purr along the linoleum, and two Tasmanian Devils move into my line of sight. "Okay, that didn't sound like a rhetorical question, but let's just say I'm a little short on details myself."

"Tell me anyway."

Kaylee's hands find my shoulders, and she pulls me to my feet. She doesn't stumble, she doesn't stutter. She looks at me with those gigantic brown eyes of hers and says, "I'll tell you if you'll tell me."

Her eyes are a little too knowing, her lips a little too tight. And I understand that this is that moment. The one Canaan said would come. The mind can't be forced.

But now she's asking.

"Are you sure you want to know, Kay? 'Cause once you do, you can't unknow. It's just . . . infuriating like that."

"Infuriating like a halo that gives mysterious boys visions of you dying?"

"Yeah," I say. "Just like that."

"Then yeah. I think I can handle it."

"This is my lunch?" Dad stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the contents of his lunch littering the floor, but I'm still staring at Kaylee. Still considering her words. She did handle the halo far better than I expected.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay?" Dad says. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dad kneel to the floor and start scooping his lunch back into the ice chest. "It's not okay."

"Okay," Kaylee says with a nod.

"I just, I've got to do something first." But even as I say it, I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Damien's out there.

And the Palatine.

Whatever the heck that is.

Maybe it's good. Maybe I want the Palatine here.

Jake would know.

But he's gone and I have no idea where I left my phone.

I stare through the entryway into the living room. I stare at the landline phone sitting next to Dad's recliner and I try to conjure up Jake's number, but all I come up with is speed dial 5.

Speed dial 5.

So not helpful.

All of this flies through my head in a matter of seconds, and then I see Damien.

Yes, Damien.

His talons appear first. They wrap around the entryway between the living room and the kitchen. He's taken some damage during his fight with Helene and bears a series of festering sear marks across his arms and chest.

Still, he's lethal. And I have no idea how long I'll be able to see him.

My hands shake. And my legs.

My stomach roils, and I know I'm going to be sick.

God, are You there?

Please, please help me.

A bead of subzero sweat rolls down my spine, and it's not God who answers. It's Damien.

His voice snakes into my head, and it's not melodic like Helene's or soothing like Canaan's. It's gritty and toxic and cold.

"The Palatine are coming? Now?"

He's asking me?

I don't nod. I don't answer.

Why is he asking me?

I try to look away, but his presence in my house is jarring. His chest is slick with fear. It blackens his talons further and pours liberally down my walls.

Is he frightened? Or does he just produce the stuff in vast quantities?

If the idea of the Palatine in Stratus frightens him, maybe they're on my side. Maybe their presence will send him to the skies.

"Brielle, baby, are you okay?" It's Dad, and I don't know what to say. He stands and closes the ice chest. "Brielle?"

Kaylee takes my hand and tugs. Her breath flutters the hair at my ear as she hisses, "You're doing it again."

I break eye contact with the monster and look at my dad.

"I'm okay," I tell him, trying to smile. "Just a little out of sorts, I guess."