Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel)(37)

"He has the ability to cloak people, Kay. Make us invisible like him. He can pick us up-fly us around-do bad things to us, but you need to know this. Are you listening? Because if you don't hear anything else I'm telling you, you need to hear this: there are more fighting for us than there are fighting against us."

I give it a second to sink in, but she just blinks back at me.

"Listen, I'm going to do my best to talk to him. To understand what he wants and why he's here."

"Why is he here?" And now tears pour down her face. They're pink, her mascara running, dripping from her chin onto her pajamas.

"He shouldn't be. He messed up big at the warehouse, and my understanding is that his punishment should have lasted longer than this."

Her eyes widen.

"We'll talk, okay?" I tell her. "Later. All about demon punishment and . . . stuff. But promise me you won't freak out. Promise me you'll stay calm if he comes back."

"If he's invisible, how will I know?"

"If I can see him, I'll tell you."

"If?"

"Without the halo my sight is . . . inconsistent. I don't know why. You don't have Canaan's number, do you?"

She shakes her head. It was a long shot anyway.

"I have Helene's."

I think of Helene's mangled body. I think of her disappearing from sight. She needs time to heal, but how long will that take? I think back to the warehouse. To the extent of her wounds there.

"Okay," I say. "Here's the plan. You keep calling. Jake and Helene. Just call until one of them answers. Leave a message on their voice mail too. And text your heart out, Kay."

She clenches her phone to her chest. "I can do that."

I laugh. It's too loud, out of place here with a demon circling, but I do it anyway.

"Yes, I believe you can."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to pray."

Her face is already pale, but now it looks all green and sickly.

"That's it. That's all? I'm going to text and you're going to pray?"

I nod, her fear grabbing hold of me as well.

"No offense, Elle, but that's a crappy plan."

She may be right.

"Yeah, but it's all I've got right now," I say, pulling her to her feet. "You with me?"

"Okay," she says. "I'm in, but what are we going to tell your dad?"

I twist around, and there, walking up the road back toward the house, is Dad.

"Holy heck. What is he doing back here?"

"I don't know, but he doesn't look happy to see you outside. You're supposed to be in bed, remember? We're going to have to tell him something."

"Sitting Dad down and telling him we had a little visit from a demon this morning might not be the best way to handle this."

"It's what you did with me."

"Yeah, well, you're not as crazy as my dad. Or as hungover."

"That's saying something at least."

Dad crunches through the gravel toward us, his ice chest swinging against his leg, his eyes squinting in the morning light. I hold my arms out, questioning.

"Truck broke down," he says.

Of course it did.

"They're towing it to the Auto Body."

"So, no work for you today," I say, glancing at the sky once more.

"I'm expecting an angry call from Cliff anytime now. What are you girls doing out here? Thought you were going back to bed, Elle."

"I was. I am. Kaylee needed something from her car."

"My phone," she says. "Forgot it out here."

"And you needed an escort?"

"You know girls," she says. "Gotta do it all together. In fact, I think, yup, I have to pee. You wanna come, Elle?"

"Yes!" I say. "The bathroom. Yes."

Dad narrows his eyes at us, but we're around her car in a flash. We run up the porch stairs and back inside, through the kitchen and into the bathroom. I slam the door, and she falls onto the closed toilet.

"Okay, what now?"

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Holy golden haloes, Batman. I'm hideous.

"You start dialing," I say. "I'm going to brush my teeth and pray at the same time."

"Does that work?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"You don't, like, need to be on your knees or holding beads or something?"

"I'll be talking to an invisible God," I tell her. "He's all right with me brushing up while I do it."

I pull my toothpaste from the drawer. "But, Kay?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm new at this whole praying thing, so I'm going to do it silent-like, okay? In my head."

"Whatever sharpens your pencil, girl. I'm pretending this is all in your head."                       
       
           



       32



Jake





When he exits the tattoo parlor, Jake finds Canaan leaning against his car door, his face hanging with emotion.

"I'm sorry, Jake."

"You heard, then? Doctor Doom."

"I heard," Canaan says.

"Do you think that's why Olivia's come to Stratus? For some sort of generational revenge?"

"I'm not certain Olivia knows why she came to Stratus. I expect only time will tell."

"And you haven't seen her or Marco?"

"No," Canaan says. "But I'll keep an eye out for them."

"And the halo?"

Canaan shrugs. Even on the phone he was strangely serene about the missing halo.

"We have no control over that now," he says. "You're more like him than I, Jake. If you stumbled upon it like he did, would you let it out of your sight?"

Jake thinks back. "No," he says. "The security it brought me-the peace-it's addicting. But, Canaan, I may not be as much like Marco as you think. First off, he's with Olivia, whose intentions are already suspect. And you didn't see Marco when he touched it. He lost it, completely freaked out. The halo didn't bring him peace. Not even a measure of it."

"We don't get to choose how others respond to God or His gifts; we can only pray they'll be open. And, Jake, we may serve the Prince of Peace, but He is also a warrior."

They've had this discussion before, and Jake rehearses a phrase he's heard Canaan say many times. "War may end with peace, but it rarely starts there."

"So we exercise faith, Jake. Faith that God has a plan and that His will is perfect."

With a pang that has him looking away, Jake considers the missing engagement ring and can't stop himself from wondering, Is God's will always perfect? Always?

He doesn't want to talk about that now. Not with Canaan, whose faith can't be shaken. Jake tips his head to the sky, willing the tears to stay put.

There's not a cloud in sight, hardly any wind. The sun bounces off hundreds of city windows, turning the urban setting into a trove of gemstones. But Jake needs to get back to Stratus. To Brielle.

"Are you staying?" he asks.

"For a while. There's been some activity at Henry's place. Not demonic, but I'd like to see what's going on."

Jake opens his driver's side door and drops into his seat. He shifts, feeling something beneath him: his phone.

Canaan lowers his face to the window. "Drive safely," he says. "I'll call soon."

But Jake's ill. His hands shake, and he can't quite focus on the message before him.

Canaan yanks the phone from his hands and reads.

And then, without discussion, he crouches next to the car, and Jake watches the Terrestrial swallow his guardian. A blink later and Jake is lifted from his seat and secured against Canaan's chest. If he were to open his eyes, he'd see the city of Portland passing below them in a conglomeration of light and color, but his eyes are closed in prayer.

He utters nothingness, pained fears, desperate pleas, terrified gibberish.

Is today the day?

The day he loses Brielle?                       
       
           



       33



Brielle





Anything?"

"No," Kaylee says, her fingers jumping like spastic crickets over the smooth face of her phone. Her slippered feet are drawn up, crossed on the toilet seat, her back curled against the tank. She looks small.

She looks scared.

I want to say something to reassure her, but I could use some comforting words myself.

Where is Jake?

"You girls done in there? I need to pee."

"We're done," I say, opening the door and stepping past Dad into the hall.

I bump the beer he's holding. It sloshes down his hand and onto the blue carpet.

"It's not even nine o'clock, Dad."

He casts a quick glance at Kaylee, but she looks away.

"Just leave it, Elle," he growls.

"You know I won't."

I'm steaming, but Dad closes the bathroom door and the conversation ends. Kaylee follows me to my room and crawls up onto my bed while I pace.

"You okay?" she asks.

"I will be."

"What's that mean?"

I don't answer. I'm too busy plotting. Kaylee's phone vibrates with a low purr.

"Who is it?" I ask, lurching to a stop.

She reads the screen, her face a smear of pink mascara and resignation.

"Delia." She sighs. "I left the faucet on. Flooded the bathroom. She's not very happy about it."