Wings of Boden (27 page)

After stealing a glance at Luca and back, I
nodded agreement, images of blood oozing.

“I know it must’ve been hard to look at.”

Yeah, he’s not kidding. It was— my attention
jerked to the sound of Ginelle storming in, Steffunnie dragging
behind as Ginelle
went off
:

“Oh Source, Luca! Are you okay?” In jeans and
a V-neck T, she stood beside Luca’s bed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a
scratch.”

“A scratch! Are you flappin kidding me? Look
at yourself? It looks like you—” She stopped herself, slid a glance
down at Steff.

“Are you sick, Daddy?” Steff questioned while
holding her mother’s hand.

“No, no, I’m fine, little bug. I just had an
accident.”

“Oh, like a football accident?”

“Yep, just like that.” Luca chuckled.

Ginelle blew out a sigh, shook her head.

Steff looked up at her. “He’s okay, Mommy.
You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Ginelle finally lifted some sort of smile.
Her hair hung forward as she bent and kissed Luca. He winced,
kissed back, his wrapped wing shifting under the bandages. Ginelle
stood and swiveled her head to me. An exasperated light headshake
as she said, “Football players, I’ll never get used to them.”

“Lift me up, Mommy. I wanna kiss Daddy
too.”

Ginelle hoisted Steff up, hovered her in
prone position over Luca, and Steff kissed her daddy on the lips.
Steff placed both her little hands on his face, looked into his
eyes. “You should be more careful, Daddy. We were worried about
you.”

It took all I had in me to hold back the
tears. I knew they didn’t realize how close he’d come to— Mom had
to restart his heart twice. The second time she’d almost
failed.

Ginelle set Steff to the floor, turned to Dad
and said, “Phil, guess what, you’ve got yourself houseguests. We’re
not leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it, understand,
nothing
. That’s just the way it is. I’ll set up tent in the
barn if I have to.”

“Mommy, can we sleep with the horses,
really?”

Dad chuckled, angled his head to Luca. “I
like your wife, Luc. She’s got fire.” He slid his eyes to Ginelle.
“And we could always use another cheerleader.” Smirk.

Luca spoke up, “Oh, owe, now you did it,
owe.”

“A cheerleader, huh, mister male.” Ginelle’s
ice-blue eyes sliced into a glare. “Well, this cheerleader could
kick your ass from ten feet away, so don’t mess with me. And I like
my morning coffee with two sugars at precisely seven AM.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dad replied with a
not-so-straight face. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Oh, and if you ever call me ma’am again,
we’re going to see if this shoe will fit in certain places of your
body.”

Dad took a moment to consider … “Well, how
bout I call you, Ginny? You need a nickname. Smooth like gin, with
a cheerleader kick. Yeah, I like that, Ginny.” A smile of
accomplishment as wide and white as a piano keyboard spread across
his face.

Luca said, “That’s pretty good one there,
Phil. I’ll use that too.” He gave his wife a wink.

Ginelle sent Dad a long stare, scrunched up
her face … then softened with a sigh. “Seriously though, Phil,
thank you.” She pranced over, bent a kiss to Dad’s forehead.

“No problem, young lady. It’s my job. We can
thank Vyn, though. He’s the hero.”

“Here, Daddy,” Steff said. “I brought you my
favoritist stuffed animal.” She placed a pink angel-bear on Luca’s
lap. “Her name is Willow, you know, like the tree.”

“Well thank you, little bug.” He lifted the
bear up with his uninjured had, looked at it. “Of course I know
Willow. She’s the one that gives good dreams, right?”

Steff giggled. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

My heart was healing. Steff had a way of
doing that, and they were going to stay here.

I finally learned how to smile again …

After almost twenty minutes of talking,
ribbing and joking, we figured it was time to let the boys rest. We
began filing out of the room. On the way out, I stopped in the
doorway, turned to Luca and said, “I’m really glad you’re okay,
Luca. I was really scared.”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone, but I was pretty
scared myself. Now, go thank Vyn for me, will ya. I’d appreciate
it.” He tossed me a scarred face grin. “Givem a big wet kiss for
me.”

With a nod and a smile, I agreed. Then
stepped out and tapped the door shut behind me.

****

The day went by in a somewhat silent house of
rest. Quiet sighs. Clocks ticked. Refrigerator hummed. Ceiling fans
gently pushed the air. Discussions were low in volume and kind.

Angie hung all over Jaydenn as if she
couldn’t get enough. There was something under that love, under
those smiles and kisses of hers—fear. She was taking advantage of
the time.

I’d also noticed something about Vyn; his
instincts hid from even his own awareness, behind the innocent face
of a scientific teenager. I would study his eyes, wondering who was
back there, before he’d snap me out of it with a question, “Ellie,
whatcha lookin’ at?” He’d give me that smile, those dimples, those
eyes, and I would pull him into a kiss like never before.

Mom had also changed, still had the soft
beauty, of course, but her look had turned with shades of firm.
She’d notice my stare and her face would light up. But it was still
there, behind the loving mask.

Dad had given a speech off the vaulted
lectern, in the front yard of the team barn. He had informed us
that six team members were lost that night. Lost, a polite way of
saying something dark. He’d said the lost had returned to Source
and would join us again, with new bodies. He’d also tried to make
light of the situation by calling it a “Source vacation.”

He’d become something more than my dad—a
leader, their quarterback again.

Following the speech, I tried to accept
everything, as much as a teenage female angel could, while
wandering around the house, or the yard, in a daze. I would smell
the flowers on the air, feel the grass beneath my feet, feel the
cool iced tea slide down my throat, hear conversation like mumbles
in another dimension, and that was the extent of my awareness.

After brushing my teeth and going through my
routine, I went to bed. Vyn was already asleep beside me, on his
belly with one wing falling off the bed and the other tucked to his
back.

I pulled the comforter up to my chin, stared
at the ceiling.

Where did the day go? Had Mom given me a
sedative earlier? I couldn’t remember.

****

The next morning, after a family breakfast,
Dad and I sat in two porch chairs, just the two of us. It reminded
me of when I was little, when this sort of thing was a regular
occurrence. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I was prepared for the
day. Well, mostly. My breath smelled of toothpaste when my mouth
stretched open for a long
yaaawn
. I covered it with my hand
… rubbed at my sore eyes.

Dad said in his deep father voice, “Looks
like you didn’t get much sleep last night, huh. You know, you don’t
have to go out there today, sweetheart. If you don’t think you’re
ready. ”

Considering that, I tucked some hair behind
my ear and sent my gaze into the pine forest and around the yard.
Out there to my right, over in the carport next to the barn, I
could see the spare tire on the back of the Jeep. Up against the
other side of the barn was the woodpile stacked almost up to the
roof. The night of chaos and terror had left no traces behind,
except maybe a few scuffmarks where Dad had shoveled up the blood
from the driveway. Sounds of distant male laughter drifted through
the forest—the team starting their day.

Dad added, “I’ll make you a deal. If you do
decide to go out there, just find them. Scout the areas and caves,
mark them on the map in the den. The team’ll take care of the rest.
You might want to bring a sword with you also. They’re handy in a
close situation. If not, well, try to keep your distance. Just
follow your instincts.”

“But what if I don’t trust my instincts
anymore?” I lifted my hand to study my nails.

“Well, it’s a personal journey for all of us.
No one can tell you what to do, or how to feel. Instinct is nothing
more than a small voice in your head.”

A snorted chuckle, then I raised an eyebrow
at Dad and said, “Just one?”

“I know what you mean. But this voice is
different. Most of the time you don’t even know it’s there. In my
experience, the louder the voice the less trustworthy it is. It’s
more like a thought, a hint to guide you.”

A loud and rapid
caaw-caaw-caaw
from a
crow perched atop a pine on the other side of the driveway caught
my attention. I kept my gaze on it as I said, “Why does this
purpose
thing have to play games? Why can’t it just, tell
us? I mean”—I turned my head to him—“does it have to be so
confusing?”

“You sound like your mother. She asked the
same question so long ago. She started out scared, timid, petite
like you. She became one of the strongest female warriors we’d ever
known.”

“Mom? You are talking about
my
mother,
right?”

“Oh yes, there’s so much you don’t know. She
settled down when you girls were born. She holds a drek kill record
that may never be broken, over seven thousand.”

“No way. Mom?” I couldn’t open my eyes any
wider. “The goddess angel sipping her tea by the pool,
that
Mom?”

“I’ll have to show you her—” He stopped
short.

“Show me her what?”

Angry chatter of a bird came from the forest;
it sounded as if it was irritated, probably with the pesky crow.
Dad watched the commotion as he said, “She doesn’t like to bring it
out, but, she has a special bow. She retired it. The day you were
born, she held you in her arms and said, ‘I’m done, Phil. This is
my little Ellie angel and I’m going to spoil her rotten’”—his face
filled with reminiscence—“I’ll never forget that day. That was the
day you came to us, sweetheart. The day we fell in love with life
all over again.”

“Oh, Dad. That’s so nice. I love you.”

We met for a mutual leaning hug between our
chairs.

Dad replied over my shoulder, a little choke
in his gruff voice, “I love you, too, Ellie.”

After the embrace, I could tell Dad needed a
little time to compose himself so I sent my thoughts off into the
woods. The idea of my mother, out there, as a female warrior, was
just, unfathomable.

Dad interrupted my wandering mind, “Now,
Ellie, do
not
let this influence you and make you reckless.
That was your mother’s purpose, not necessarily yours.”

“Yeah, I know, but what if
this
is
part of my purpose. You telling me this?”

“One day at a time. If my visions are
correct—” He stopped short again.

“Visions? What do you mean? You’ve had
visions of
my
purpose?”

He slipped a grin. “Well, I shouldn’t have
said that. We’re not supposed to share our visions. It would alter
the course, give the ego a chance to influence. Just remember,
everything happens for a reason.”

I turned and heaved a huge, lip-vibrating
sigh off the porch. “Oh, great, more secrets.”

The house door opened. “Whatcha guys doin’
out here?” Angie asked behind us as Bub came running out, sailed
off the porch deck and dashed into the forest.

“Nothing, just talking,” I replied.

Dad gave me his special “Ellie” smile, which
included a little wink. I wondered if he knew that his smiles are
different between Angie and me; he always gives me a left-eye wink,
Angie would receive the right eye. It’s so nice.

“Well, you ready, Ellie? Let’s go kick some
drek butt.” The chipper sound of her voice hinted at her full
recovery. A look of ready confidence, dressed in jeans and a
girl-cut T-shirt, glossy brown hair around her shoulders, green
eyes glinting with purposeful intent. Looking at her, I began to
realize that a certain innocence had left us the night Luca’s blood
covered the living room floor, and I helped my sister mop it up in
silence. That was the moment we knew things would never be the
same, so we had toughened our hearts with purpose.

Angie pulled her bow off the wall peg, turned
and said, “I wanna be back early,” then slipped the quiver over her
head and crossways over her chest.

With my gaze into the forest again, I
clenched my jaw, sniffed a sharp inhale of mountain pine air, and
psyched myself up to follow the day. I rose with conviction. “Okay,
let’s go.” I marched over, looped the quiver over my shoulder and
chest, and grabbed my bow.

Dad had said not to let our conversation
influence my decisions, but the thought of Mom’s past lit a pilot
flame inside me, a guiding spark to help me through the dimness of
destiny.

Soaring high above the land, in the cool
shade just below a single swollen cloud, I could smell the oncoming
rain, the faint hint of ozone. It wouldn’t be a storm, I knew, just
a brief sprinkle from a lone wanderer. Sunlight lit the edges to
glow—a halo of white around a mass of gray. Rivulets of mist
covered our wing feathers. My nose and cheeks were cold. Hands were
numbing. The crisp atmosphere is just a fact of morning flight, so
we deal with it. However, it’s different with a bow in hand, and a
glove would be nice, but, whatever.

“Let’s go the other way,” I said to Angie as
she flew beside me. “I don’t want to go below the Crags. Let’s go
to the other side of the mountain.”

“Really”—a wing push—“It’s dark over
there.”

“I know, but, I’ve never been over there. I
wanna see something different this time.” Something dawned on me as
I stopped pushing and drifted, then turned eyes on Angie. “You
don’t think that’s what Dad meant by behind the house, do you?”