Angel Burn (35 page)

“I got home from school one day when I was nine, and Mom wasn’t there.” I looked at him, tried to smile. “I waited for hours; I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want anyone to know, but I was really scared. So finally I called the police, and they came over. It turned out that they’d picked her up that afternoon. She’d been walking around in a daze, wandering in traffic. She didn’t know who she was.”

Alex reached over and took my hand, gripping it wordlessly.

I let out a breath. “So, they put her in the hospital, and they put me in a foster home, and it was horrible. I was there for almost a month.”

“What about your aunt?” said Alex. His fingers were warm against mine.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know where she lived. They must have found her before too long, but it took a while for everyone to figure out what they were going to do, I guess.”

His voice hardened. “So  . . .  what? You’re saying that she just let you sit in a foster home for a month?”

Slowly, I nodded, remembering the tiny bedroom that I’d shared with a girl named Tina — how she always wanted me to talk to her, and I wouldn’t talk to anybody. I used to lie on my bed for hours staring at the wall, hating everyone there.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “I mean, I don’t know what was going on in her life or anything, and I guess it was a pretty big disruption to suddenly have this nine-year-old foisted on her.” Alex didn’t say anything, and I went on. “Anyway, after a while she came and got me, and I went back to Pawtucket with her. And then a few weeks later, Mom came to live there, too. The doctors thought she should be hospitalized full-time, but insurance wouldn’t cover it all. That sort of thing is really expensive.” I looked down. “You know, I always hated my father, anyway, for doing that to her. But now that I know he was an actual predator, that he never cared about her, it just makes it ten times worse somehow.”
Not to mention that I come from him; I’m a part of him.
I didn’t say the words.

“I know,” said Alex. And I could tell from his voice that he did. He understood exactly how I felt about all of it, even the parts I’d left unsaid. He rubbed my palm. “You’re not your father, though. You’re nothing like him. You were there for her; you cared about her more than anything.”

I swallowed hard, confronted by so many memories. “She’s my mom. I love her. I just  . . .  wish I hadn’t let her down back then.”

“Willow.” With his other hand, Alex touched my cheek. “You know that’s not true, right? You did better than some adults would have done, and you were only nine years old. You did everything you could.”

Letting out a breath, I closed my hand over his, leaning my head against it. “Thanks.” I managed a smile. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Thanks for listening.”

He smiled slightly, too, and stroked back a strand of my hair. “I’ve never told anyone about my dad before, either.” For a minute neither of us spoke, and then I got up and slid onto his lap, wrapping my arms around him.

We sat holding each other for a long time, with the lantern light burning golden beside us.

“
Oh!
That is so
cold
!” I shrieked, half-laughing as Alex poured a canful of icy water over my head, and then another. He started laughing, too. “You’re the one who wanted to wash it. Hold still.”

Finally — just when I was about to tell him to forget it, that I didn’t care anymore whether I still had shampoo in my hair or not — he said, “OK, I think that’s all of it.” I felt him wrap the T-shirt around my hair, squeezing the water out.

“Oh, thank God!” I straightened up from the stream, drops of icy water darting down my neck. “I’m never washing it again; I don’t care how disgusting it gets.”

Alex rubbed my arms briskly, grinning. “You say that every single time.”

“It’s
true
this time. I swear that water’s twenty degrees colder than it used to be.”

Back in the cabin, I sat on the bed to comb out my hair, trying not to get the sleeping bags wet. It was such a relief to have clean hair again, even if it felt all tangled. Alex sat next to me, leaning back against the wall.

“Your nose is all red,” he observed.

“Yes, that’s how it gets when I’m dying of hypothermia.”

Bending forward, Alex kissed the tip of my nose. Then he got up and went over to his bag; crouching down beside it on the floor, he unzipped an inner pocket. He came back and sat beside me again. “Here.” He handed me a small white box. “Happy birthday.”

I took the box, feeling stunned. I had lost all track of time up here. “Is it my birthday? But — how did you know?”

Alex gave a sheepish grin. “I sort of looked at your driver’s license when you were taking a shower that first night in the motel.”

I held the box in both hands. “You didn’t! That’s not even fair — you don’t even
have
a driver’s license with your real details on it.” I looked down at the box, touched its slightly dimpled top. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

I eased the lid off, and then just sat gazing downward. There was a necklace inside — a slim, shimmering silver chain with a crystal teardrop hanging from it. “It’s beautiful,” I breathed, drawing it out. The faceted pendant winked in the sunlight, turning on its chain. “Alex, this is so  . . . ” I trailed off, at a loss for words.

He smiled at my expression. “It reminded me of you,” he said. “Of your angel’s wings.”

My heart seemed to stop. We hardly mentioned my angel; I didn’t like thinking about it. Up here, away from everything but the wind and the trees, I could almost forget that I wasn’t wholly human.

“My angel’s wings?” I repeated.

Alex nodded. “The way they shone in the sun.”

“But  . . . ” I stared back at the pendant, my thoughts spinning. “But you must have bought this before we even got together.”

“Yeah, when I was buying your clothes.” He ducked his head to peer into my face. “Hey. What is it?”

I could hardly put it into words. The pendant with the light hitting it was so clear, so shining. “You don’t just
not mind,
do you?” I said slowly. “About me being a half angel. You really  . . .  accept it.”

Alex gave a gentle laugh and tapped my forehead with his fist. “Hello. Have you just figured that out?”

I didn’t know what to say.

There was a long pause. Alex cleared his throat. “You know  . . .  back in the motel room in Tennessee, I woke up from a nightmare once. A really bad one that I used to have a lot. And I looked at your angel.” He scanned my face. “She’s beautiful, Willow — she looks just like you, only more radiant. And just seeing your face, I was able to go to sleep again.”

My throat went tight. All the way back in Tennessee, he’d felt that way? “But all angels are beautiful,” I said finally. “And they’re still deadly.”

“You’re really not getting this,” said Alex. He touched my face. “Yes, all angels are beautiful, but that’s just how they look. Your angel is you; she’s a part of you. And that means she’s  . . .  everything I love.”

I stared down at the necklace again, almost too moved to speak. “Thank you,” I whispered. I stroked my hand under the pendant, watching it catch the light. Carefully, I undid the clasp and put it on; I could hardly even feel the chain around my neck. Looking down, I saw the pendant sparkling against my skin as if it belonged there.

I felt almost shy as I looked at him. I cleared my throat. “So  . . .  when’s your birthday?”

He grinned suddenly. “Yesterday.”

I stared at him. “What — seriously?”

“Yeah, October twenty-third. I turned eighteen.”

“Why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“What for? I already have everything I want.” He reached across and fingered the pendant; I felt it move against my skin. “Willow, look,” he said. “We haven’t talked much about what might happen, but  . . .  you know that I always want to be with you, right? I mean — no matter what.”

And I had known it; I felt it every time he held me — but even so, actually hearing the words made my heart catch. “I want that, too,” I said. “Always, Alex.”

Alex put his hand on the side of my face; I nestled my cheek into it. “OK, then,” he said softly, rubbing the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

“OK,” I echoed.

We just sat there for a moment, smiling at each other. Then Alex picked up my hairbrush. “Here, let me finish this for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, turn around.”

I turned my back to him and felt him gently combing through my damp hair, working through the tangles. The sleeping bags whispered with the brush’s motion; I could hear the occasional drop of water patting onto them. Outside, I could hear the rustle of the wind through the pine trees. As Alex worked, I reached up and touched the pendant again, stroking its smooth facets as it glinted in the light.

I knew I’d never take it off.

That night I lay awake for a long time, curled up on Alex’s chest as he slept, his arms wrapped loosely around me. The cabin was dark and still around us, with only a faint rectangle of moonlight shining in through the outline of the doorway.

I touched my pendant, thinking for the first time about my angel — I mean,
really
thinking about her, instead of just slamming a door on the idea the second it came to mind. I remembered the feeling of flying, of seeing the desert turn and dip around me as I swooped through the air. Alex had told me that full-blooded angels couldn’t take on both a human and angel form at the same time, but it seemed like I could. My human form had remained while my angel one flew above, taking my consciousness with it. So far, she had emerged while I slept and while other angels were around, if I needed her.

Apart from that, where was she? Somewhere inside me?

I felt a stirring of curiosity. Alex had once suggested that I try to contact her. Could I? Did I even want to?

Maybe,
I thought tentatively.

The cabin was very still around me. Alex’s breathing was slow, steady, his chest warm under the circle of my arm. I closed my eyes. Hardly knowing where to begin, I took a breath to relax myself and then started drifting, searching.

Hello?
I thought.
Are you there?

Faintly, I became aware of a flicker of energy deep within: a small, crystalline fire that pulsed with a heartbeat of its own. In my mind, I drew forward. The light sparked like a diamond on black velvet. I felt a swirl of energy, one that explored me even as I explored it.

A jolt of recognition; I smiled in wonder. The energy was so like my own, but different, more charged: a shining rush of power that knew and welcomed me. Suddenly all I wanted was to be in the light. I moved forward, and it grew stronger; it dazzled my eyes but didn’t hurt them. I let it envelop me, and there was an explosion of brightness, like sunshine in a crystal cave. Its energy swept through me, almost making me laugh with joy. I felt its pulse become my own.

And then I saw her, so clearly in my mind’s eye: the angel with my face.

She stood gazing at me, her shining robes falling from her shoulders, and I thought dazedly,
Alex is right. I
am
beautiful
— because this serene face held such a pure, deep beauty that I felt my throat catch. She had no halo, and her bright wings were spread out behind her, moving gently, flashing like sunshine on water. Her long hair fell loosely past her shoulders, like mine often did. Her eyes shone; I could feel her love cradling me as we regarded each other.

I never knew
. All my life, there had been this whole other part of who I was, and I had never even realized it was there. Suddenly I knew that I could simply shift my consciousness into hers if I wanted to. I would still be me, but I would be her as well. We were two; we were one. She was the twin I had never known, there for me whenever I might need her. The knowledge glowed like a small ember inside of me.

But not yet
. For now, this felt like enough — just to know that she was there and that she wasn’t something to be afraid of. Gently, I withdrew. My angel smiled after me, understanding. As I moved away, she faded and there was only the small, bright light — and then that, too, vanished as I brought my consciousness back to the cabin.

I opened my eyes.

The darkness of the small room, with its faint tinge of moonlight. I was still lying in the sleeping bag in Alex’s arms, with my head nestled between his shoulder and chest. He felt so familiar, so safe. I softly kissed his chest, hugging his waist with my arm. He had known. Somehow Alex had known long before I had — the angel side of me wasn’t anything like the angel who had hurt my mother or the ones who had hurt his family. She was a part of me; I could trust her just as much as I trusted myself.

For the first time since I found out what I really was, I felt the hard knot inside of me ease. It was such a relief, like sinking into a warm bath on a chilly day. I didn’t have to hate myself anymore. I could just  . . .  be me again, even though “me” was so much more than what I’d once thought.

Alex stirred, his embrace tightening around me. We lay in each others’ arms, our breathing rising and falling at almost the same time. Around us, the night was so still, so utterly peaceful.

I was a half angel — and for the first time, that seemed like something that might, just possibly, be OK.

“We’re expecting at least sixty thousand people on the day,” said Jonah. “I’ve arranged for security to help with crowd control, and we have permission to use the fields to the south of the cathedral for extra parking. I’ve gotten a team of devotees to help guide people in.” He put a plan for the extended parking areas onto Raziel’s desk, pointing out the location. “All the other details are coming together, too. We’re having a full dress rehearsal on Friday night, and then the flowers are being delivered early Saturday morning, and —”

Raziel sat listening with his head propped onto his hand. He was wearing dark pants and a crisp blue shirt open at the neck. Idly, he picked up the plans and glanced at them, then tossed them back onto his desk. “Fine, it all sounds like it’s in hand,” he said. “And what about the half angel? Is there any news?”