Guardian (44 page)

“You were with Colton and Grace the night they were taken,” I said slowly.

“Yes, I was,” he said impatiently. “I told you, Lyla, I left them asleep in their beds. I thought at that late hour they would be perfectly safe.”

“No,” I said instantly, shaking my head. “No, no. They said they came and my parents signed them away. Child services wouldn’t do that at midnight.”

“What do you want me to say, Lyla?” Damian asked in exasperation. “I cannot explain the action of every human to you!”

Images from my confrontation with my mother swamped me, sucked me in until it seemed I was back at my house, witnessing it all over again. All I could hear were her words, what she had said over and over, like a broken record,
I don’t know
why
I did it, Lyla, I just had to! I don’t know why!
I had been so convinced that she wouldn’t do such a thing, so disgusted that she had been unable to explain herself, come up with a single reason why she had done it. But maybe she hadn’t. Not consciously. Maybe she had been forced.

I stared in horror at Damian, backing away quickly, stumbling over a chair and nearly falling in my attempt to get away from him. “You did this,” I whispered, unable to believe my words, even though I could feel that they were true. It was the only explanation that made sense. “My mother would never have given away Colton and Grace. You went there to watch them; you
compelled
her to do it!”

“Why would I do that?” Damian asked, but I saw a tension in his body that belied his carefully breezy words.

My mind raced. Could he have done it? Damian was an
angel
, he wouldn’t do something like this! He was
good
, just like Rafael, like the other Fallen. He couldn’t! All my talks with Damian, every moment we’d spent together whizzed through my mind, trying to find any prior fault with his behavior. But my mother’s despairing words and voice, the sound of her tears, assaulted my ears, convinced me I was right. I put my hands over my ears, not wanting to hear her anymore. Once had been enough, once was enough to go through the whole argument.

I helplessly covered my ears and looked to the floor, trying to escape the noise. And all at once, it stopped. There was complete silence as I bent down and picked up one long, coal black feather from the floor, holding it up and looking at Damian.

“Rafael,” I said slowly, looking from the feather to Damian. There had been one before, the one in my kitchen after Damian had touched my Bible and burned his hand. I hadn’t even thought twice about it then. “Rafael told me that the Fallen don’t lose feathers. They never do, unless they’ve turned. Turned, like Sadie and Abram have.”

I didn’t want it to be true. I was still hoping he would deny it, come up with some explanation that would make sense and make me realize I was being foolish. But deep down in my heart I knew I was right. And I was
terrified
.

Damian’s lips thinned into a tight line, and in an instant, his whole demeanor changed. He became angry and threatening, and I shrank away from him. “You don’t want to get involved in this, Lyla,” he growled at me. “Go home. Go get Colton and Grace, and move on from all of this.”

“How could you do this to me?” I cried, scared by his tone but too shocked to leave. “
Why
did you do this? Why did you take Colton and Grace away?”

“To get
rid
of you!” Damian shouted. “So you would leave Rafael, and get away from us! To avoid what is happening
right now
. You were supposed to stay away! I knew Rafael wouldn’t help you, and that you would choose Colton and Grace over him. Only you came back. You weren’t supposed to come back. I did this because I
care
about you, Lyla!”

“Care about me?” I repeated in bewilderment. “How can you say that if you’re hurting me like this? Rafael is the one who cares! He didn’t really leave, did he?” The thought occurred to me in a flash, filled me with a blinding glow of light, gave me hope that this situation wasn’t nearly so awful as I had first imagined. “What have you done, Damian? Where is he?”

Damian advanced on me, and I backed away, only to hit a wall and have no place else to go. He gripped my chin in his hands and looked into my eyes with a pleading expression. “Do
not
get involved, in this, Lyla,” he warned. “This is so much bigger than you can even begin to comprehend. Take this.” He used his other hand to stuff something into my fist. I just barely managed to look down at my hand; money. Two thick stacks of crisp new hundred-dollar bills. “Take it,” Damian continued, “go get Colton and Grace, and leave. Forget about all of this. You can start a new life, Lyla. Safe from your parents and with your brother and sister. Now go. Don’t worry about Rafael, just leave.”

He let go of me so quickly that I sagged against the wall without his support, then had to close my eyes and cover my face against the wind and debris that his wings stirred up as he took off, diving out of the window. As soon as the room cleared, I ran after him to the edge of the loft, but Damian was already gone.

I slowly retreated back into the room, sinking into the armchair and trying to gather my thoughts, sort out the maelstrom that had just occurred before me. It all felt like a dream, as though none of it was real. Everything had happened so fast and seemed so ludicrous. But one thing stood out vividly, made my heart pound fast with relief and anxiety and gave me hope that things would turn out all right.

Rafael hadn’t left me
.

But it left me with an even greater question. If Rafael and the other Fallen hadn’t left, where were they?

Knowing Rafael hadn’t abandoned me filled me with a warm, contented glow. It burned deep inside me, radiating out, seeping from my pores. I felt it chase away the pain, the doubts, and bring with it a sense of calm and level-headedness. As I sat quietly in the chair, I went over Damian’s actions. His was the part that I simply couldn’t believe, couldn’t reason why he would do something to hurt me. How could he turn away from his best friend, betray Rafael in any way?

But at the same time I was analyzing his every move, and what stood out starkly against everything else was his strangely close, but short-lived friendship with the man who had discovered him in Columbus. The house of Eli St. James seemed the most logical place to start.

However, even I could admit some human limits. I started for the bus stop, fighting jaw-cracking yawns.

It was no use going to look for anyone at the moment. I had been awake and traipsing around the city all night. I felt grimy and wrung out from the emotional roller coaster I had been riding since early the day before. So I headed for home. My parents would be gone, and it was the only warm place I could think to go. There were things I needed there as well.

Sure enough, my parents were gone. I let myself inside and took a steaming hot shower, finally chasing away the last of the eternal numbness from my fingers and toes. Then I pulled on several layers of clothes, wanting to bundle up and not lose the warmth I had finally gained back.

I carefully locked each of my four dead bolts, even though I doubted my parents would check the room. I wasn’t taking any chances. I slid into bed beneath a cocoon of half a dozen blankets. I kept my phone clutched in my hand, just in case, falling asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.

I awoke abruptly, sitting up and feeling oddly wide awake. Groping for my phone amid the blankets, I saw it was ten minutes before six in the evening. I carefully pushed the mountain of blankets off of me and slipped from the bed, heading for the closet. I dressed with care, knowing I’d probably be outside for a while again; it was always easier to shed layers than wish they had been donned in the first place.

I slid a pair of black leggings underneath my favorite jeans, the dark-wash skinny legged ones. Fuzzy wool socks were layered over regular socks, and then all was hidden underneath gray Ugg boots. On top, I layered two thick gray and black tees, followed by a white long-sleeved shirt. This was chased by another one of my soft and warm hoodies, and my thickest thigh-length plaid coat.

I stuffed several pairs of gloves into my pockets but only wore my navy hobo ones for the moment, winding the matching scarf around my neck. A final ear-muff headband, and I was ready. I put my driver’s license and phone in my back pockets, deciding against a purse – it would only slow me down and I would probably lose it.

There was only one last thing. I knelt down by my bed, pulling the safe box out from beneath it, and took the key from around my neck. The keys and credit card were there, just as I had left them, hastily thrown in during a fit of rage. Looking back, I was ashamed of my behavior, but I pushed the guilt aside and grabbed both the keys and the American Express card, clutching the small wing charm tightly in my fist. I unlocked my door and looked over my shoulder just for a moment. In my heart of hearts, I knew I would never come back here. This was the last time I would set foot in my parents’ house.

As I trailed through the hallway, the living room and into the kitchen, I remembered the last, awful argument I’d had with my mother. My stomach twisted with guilt at all the horrible things I had said to her, when she hadn’t been responsible for Colton and Grace being taken. She’d been compelled, unable to explain her own actions. I couldn’t leave without letting her know I didn’t blame her anymore. I pulled a pencil from the kitchen drawer and smoothed out a receipt lying on the counter, scrawling a quick note, one I meant with all my heart.

Mom, it’s all right, I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll always love you. Lyla.

One tear, quickly fallen and quickly dried, wrinkled a corner of the paper, but I ignored it as I taped the note to a cupboard where she couldn’t miss it or accidentally throw it away. I almost wished I had the time to wait and see her one last time, but it would probably end in disaster anyway, as most of our encounters did.

Besides, there was nothing here to hold me back. Seeing all those nice new clothes in my room had reminded me of the day Rafael had bought them for me. Would I be willing, he had asked, to give it all up and follow God?

Yes. Yes, I would. That was exactly what I was doing. I turned and left the house, never looking back, never having a shadow of doubt.

Of course I knew where Rafael had left my car. It wasn’t really a conscious realization that led me to the park; my feet simply knew where to go and had carried me there almost before I had noticed. Knowing Rafael’s propensity toward drama and flair, I was worried a Porsche or, heaven forbid, a Corvette would await me. But I was wrong. The only car sitting in the parking lot was a magnificent little four-door, sea-foam green Toyota Corolla. I circled it warily, still worried about Rafael’s habit for flashing his wealth. But when I pressed the key remote in my hand, the car beeped gently in response, as if telling me hello.

A slow grin spread across my face. Of course Rafael would know the perfect car for me. The Corolla was subtle and serviceable, a little ordinary but capable of any job, just like me. Unable to hold back a squeak of delight, I climbed inside. Here, I saw, was where Rafael had been able to wave around his seemingly magic AmEx.

The car was clearly a deluxe model, with a built in GPS that I was very relieved to see and heated seats that I promptly switched on. A black suede cover made the steering wheel a little warmer to my touch. Plain and neat, just the way I liked it. I gently fingered the visor pin with its guardian angel prayer, mouthing the words as I read them. I tentatively reached out and touched the angel wing necklace hanging from the rearview mirror. It was there, just waiting for me to find it. That more than anything convinced me that Rafael hadn’t left. He wouldn’t have ‘returned’ it to me if he was leaving.

Quickly, fingers clumsy with cold and emotion, I took the necklace down and fastened it back around my neck, clutching it tightly in my fist.
Never again
, I vowed fiercely, sniffling back another bout of tears.
It will never leave my neck, never, ever again. Oh Lord, please let Rafael be safe and unharmed. Guide me, guide me to him
.

I navigated to Dublin with the aid of the GPS, using it to find Riverside Drive once more. I wasn’t sure where the St. James residence was, exactly, but the sight of it was imprinted in my memory. The great double flanked gates with wings, the angel statues on the stone walls. I could have kicked myself now. Wasn’t it clear that St. James already knew about the Fallen, and clearly had for a very long time?

I wasted a precious half-hour cruising down the scenic road looking for the massive house. Snow had started to fall in thick clumps when I’d left the park and it was only getting worse. I had to turn around and double check the houses I’d already passed, sure that I had missed it somehow because of the foggy snow. In the end, it wasn’t the house I recognized, but the large park across the street. I slammed on the brakes and slid more than drove into the empty parking lot. I sat there, listening to the radio predict more snow and broadcast a level-two snow emergency as I stared up at the house in front of me, looming massive and intimidating on the top of the hill.

It hit me then that I had absolutely no plan. What had I been planning to do, walk up and ring the doorbell? Who was I kidding? If Damian was there, undoubtedly other Fallen would be too. They could be keeping St. James hostage, along with Rafael or the others. The only part I didn’t understand was why. What had they done? What purpose could poor Rachel or Naomi serve?