Blest (20 page)

“So if the Portal gets opened under my watch . . .”

“I expect you to draw your Sky Knife”—General Lumen pointed at the blade sheathed at Jim’s hip—“and cut your neck.” She noticed Jim’s stricken face and sighed again. She dipped her hand into her the front pocket of her coat and pulled out a small, bronze locket. “Come here, Jim. Let me show you something.”

Jim regarded General Lumen’s intense gaze with trepidation, but moved a little closer.

She flipped open the locket, revealing a picture of two blond babies. She sipped her wine again. “Do you know who these two are?”

Jim shrugged.

“It’s you. And Sydney.”

He furrowed his brow and looked back up at her. “Me and—”

“Evelyn . . .” She took a deep breath. “Your mom and I were best friends, Jim. We grew up in Glisten together, we went to the Academy together. We served in the War of the Broken Wall and we were some of the best Guardians they’d ever seen.” Her eyes turned misty and she looked past Jim, toward the window overlooking the river and porch, where the rest of the angels were still gathered. “Maybe we were the best. The Tribunal decided to promote us both to generals.”

Jim nodded slowly, remembering his dad talking about how his mom had been promoted. “And then the demons tracked her down.”

“
Carlos
tracked her down, Jim,” General Lumen said, her tongue curling. “He was powerful, almost unstoppable during the War of the Broken Wall. But he tracked her down for a different reason.”

“Carlos . . .” Jim reeled. “Why?”

“Your mother was a Seer. She had a gift for seeing the future.” General Lumen drained her wine glass and put it back on the counter. “I’m glad you decided to grow your wings out, Jim. You’re going to be more important to Glisten than you realize. But I want you to remember that this all comes with a price.” She squinted against tears and set her jaw. “Get used to losing the things you care about. But know that it’s all for a greater cause.”

The problem with fighting and dying for a cause, Jim thought, was that you first had to believe in it to make anything worth it.

After the funeral, Jim didn’t sleep. He stayed up for hours, staring blankly at the painting from his mom, trying to make sense of the weird web of colors. He held the frame and peered into the red-white sunset, the careful sculpting of the school below it. What did General Lumen mean that his mom was a Seer? Would
he
someday become a Seer? He blinked away the prick of tears. Even if she could tell the future, it clearly hadn’t helped her avoid her own death.

He had always thought that the painting had some kind of deeper meaning. But had he just believed that because he wanted answers, because it was the only thing he had from her? He clutched the frame in his hands, hard, like he was trying to summon something from it.

The more he stared into the swirls of red and white clouds, the more familiar they felt. It almost looked like . . .

“Wings,” he said suddenly. The sunset wasn’t a sunset at all. The clouds were the edges of angel and demon wings. Hovering over Pearlton High School. Evelyn had never even lived in Pearlton. She had painted the school without even seeing it. She had been thinking of him all along, trying to tell him that he was an angel.

Jim fell asleep, still holding the painting in his hands.

The next day, as the sun began to brighten the world with peach sunshine, Jim’s door exploded open. He startled, clutching the painting closer. Michael stood in his doorway, clutching a baseball glove and wearing a dorky orange hat that Jim was almost positive was meant for hunters. Jim noticed his dad’s eyes the most—they were gleaming with energy, like stones polished by water. Jim squinted. Was he . . . not hungover?

“Big Bad J!” Michael said, using a name Jim hadn’t heard for years. He tossed a baseball mitt onto Jim’s lap. “Let’s go to Pearlton Park and play a little baseball, huh?” He stared at Jim for a second. “You don’t have school today, right? Come on into the kitchen, I made pancakes.”

Jim looked at the baseball mitt and blew out a long breath. Did Michael still think Jim played baseball? He hadn’t picked up a mitt in five years. Still, he couldn’t help but smile a little. Ever since they had spoken about Jim’s wings, Michael had gradually been coming out of his fog, as if he was peering out from his shell and finally looking at the world.

“Um, sure,” he said, smiling wider. “That sounds great, Dad.”

If he had learned anything from Nora’s death, Jim thought, it was that it was far too easy to take people for granted.

As they sat at the breakfast table—newly scrubbed and cleaned, Jim noticed—and ate the piping hot pancakes, they talked about light, casual subjects. School, the deli, the way the Cardinals had been playing. Jim could tell his dad didn’t want to discuss angels or demons, so he bit back all the questions he wanted to ask, about his mom and the fact that she’d been a Seer. In the past, he might have resented Michael for keeping a secret like that. But now he forced himself to try and understand things from his dad’s perspective. It was a weird experiment, a little like trying to see things through a kaleidoscope of different feelings and thoughts. Maybe his dad didn’t want to talk about it because being a Seer had made Evelyn a target. Carlos had
killed
her because of what she was.

“Ready?” Michael asked as Jim finished his last pancake, slapping him on the shoulder. “This is going to be the most epic game of catch ever!”

Jim grabbed his glove. “I’m ready.”

They drove to Pearlton Park and ran straight to the center of the field. Above them, the sky had opened up into a blurry gray canopy. Jim could see his breath, but the adrenaline of doing something that wasn’t related to angels or demons surged through him, making him forget the cold. He pushed his thoughts about his mom to the back of his mind. He wondered if his dad had heard about Nora—after all, he had known that school was canceled.

“Think fast!” Michael said, chucking the ball full-force at Jim.

Jim yelped and reached with his glove, but the ball flew over it and plopped onto the grass, rolling. Jim chased after it and scooped it from the ground.

“Nice one!” his dad said, pounding his fist into his mitt.

“I wasn’t ready!” Jim tossed the ball back. He cleared his throat. “Dad,” he said, “did you hear about—”

“Think fast!” The ball soared back at Jim. Jim ran at it and jumped. The ball brushed the top of his mitt, but dropped to the ground.

“Back at me, Big Bad J!” Michael said. He caught Jim’s underhanded toss. “And yes. I heard.” He threw the ball back, and Jim missed it again. “Jim.” He easily caught Jim’s next throw. “You have to clear your head before you can think with a clear head.” He held onto the ball, looking at Jim across the field. “That’s what I found out recently. You should do the same, okay?”

Jim ran his tongue over his teeth. “Clear your head to think with a clear head,” he muttered. His dad was telling him to focus. To not get overwhelmed by thinking about all the things that . . . overwhelmed him?

His dad threw the ball again. “You got it this time, Big Bad J?”

Jim ran at the ball with his mitt outstretched, and the ball fell neatly into the center of the mitt. A thrill of victory coursed through his body. “I got it,” he said with a laugh, and threw the ball back.

They tossed the ball back for another ten minutes in a companionable silence. Finally, Jim got up the courage to ask what was bothering him. “Dad,” he asked as he caught the ball. “How come you never told me that Mom was . . . a Seer?”

Michael missed the ball as Jim threw it back to him. He bent over and scooped it up. “How did you . . .” He grumbled. “It was Catherine, wasn’t it? She told you.” He tossed the ball back. It took a moment for Jim to remember that Catherine was General Lumen’s first name.

“I didn’t tell you, because I thought . . . I thought, if you did choose to be an angel, you would hate her for running from her duties.”

Jim tossed the ball back and forth in his hands, then lobbed it to his dad. “Hate her?”

“Seers go back to Glisten. They’re incredibly rare and valuable to the cause. It’s too dangerous for them on the Field,” Michael explained. “But she didn’t want to keep serving in the war, and she didn’t want to go back to Glisten.”

“But how could she tell the future? What did General Lumen mean?”

“That’s something that I never really understood, myself,” Michael said. “It wasn’t like she could just predict the future on command.” He frowned. “The Tribunal forbid her from telling anyone but them about her visions. I never found out how they worked.”

“Oh,” Jim said, catching the ball again. He could only imagine what it had been like for his mom and dad to have all that pressure on them. Not only was Evelyn supposed to be a general, she had some weird talent that made her special even among the angels. His dad had never even known how it worked, yet he had loved her so much that he stayed with her here on the Field, even if it meant removing his wings and guaranteeing that the rest of the angels looked down on him for the rest of his life.

Michael was brave, Jim realized with a start. Just not in the way people had wanted him to be.

• • •

After a dinner of greasy hamburgers with his dad, Jim went to the backyard alone, trying to focus. For the first time in a month, he’d had a completely angel-free day—and the best day he had ever had with his father since his mom died. He sat in the wooden chair that looked out into the overgrown woods behind the house and watched the clouds churning in the sky above him. Just as he finally started to relax, his phone rang, scattering his thoughts like flies. He growled and slid the phone from his pocket, expecting to see one of the angels—but it was a number, not a name.

He knew who was calling. The digits had been branded into his memory. But what did she want? He waited until halfway through the third ring before picking it up.

“Hello?” he asked after a pause.

“It’s me.” Claire’s voice rattled through the speaker like a fresh breeze. He shivered, just hearing it again.

He didn’t say anything for a while. She didn’t, either.

“Can I see you?” she blurted. “I need to see you.”

“You . . .”

“The place where it all started,” she said. “The place where you said people could always have new beginnings. Remember?”

“Of course,” Jim said. “When should—”

“Now.”

The phone clicked. Jim stared at the blank screen in disbelief. Did the Scale know she was calling him? For a moment, he fantasized about a truce. Maybe they could all just agree to end the war, right then and there. But then he remembered Nora. And Carlos. Carlos had killed his mom. He clenched his fists. There was no going back from that.

But Claire, maybe she could be saved. He stood from his chair and spread his wings. They still ached from when he had carried Nora and Miles from the fire, but it felt good to unfurl them into the air. With one powerful flap, he left the ground and headed straight into the sky, toward the water tower. He hadn’t been back since the night he had broken up with Claire, when he’d spray-painted the feathers to his mural.

When he landed with a soft thud on the side of the tower, Claire was already there, looking at his graffiti, the translucent tips of her crimson wings shining like rubies. Jim’s mouth was already dry from the thought of talking to her again. It felt like it had been years since they had truly talked, away from the Scale and the Feather.

She turned at the sound of his arrival, and all of the things he’d been planning to say to her rushed out of his head. “I’m so sorry,” he blurted. “I’m sorry for everything. I never meant any of it, never.” He took a step forward. Her arms stayed stiff at her sides.

“You never meant it?” Claire asked. Her eyes searched his face.

“After the Drop, Sydney saw us,” he babbled, desperate for her to understand. He hadn’t realized how deep his lies to Claire had dug into him until now, when he was trying to pull out and grab at the truth. “I was trying to protect you. Sydney said that the Scale would
kill
you if they found out about us. I just thought . . . All I wanted was to protect you.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. Behind Claire, the sunset was turning seashell-pink, stenciled against the lattice of clouds. Claire took a step forward, and then suddenly they were wrapped around each other, kissing, clutching each other for dear life. Jim reveled in her touch, feeling so happy that he might burst.

After a minute, Claire pulled back. “Jim,” she whispered, holding his wrist. “I need to tell you something. It’s about the Portal.”

The word crashed down onto Jim like an anvil. “The Portal,” he repeated.

“Carlos found it,” she told him. “He’s leading the demons to attack. Tonight. I wanted to tell you, so you could let the other angels know.”

“You . . .” Jim’s heart flooded with gratitude. Claire had seen the truth. She wasn’t like the other demons—she
was
good. He kissed her again, on the forehead. “Thank you. It means so much, to see you again. How . . . are you?” He choked. “How are they treating you?”

“I have to go,” Claire said quickly. “Or they’ll get suspicious. I’m supposed to help lead the attack.”

“Oh, right,” Jim said. “Right.” His mind spun with all the other questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t really want to hear the answers. The fire, Nora, the cruise ship . . . and why she was supposed to lead the attack. How deep was she? How dangerous was it for her, to betray them?

“Goodbye, Jim,” Claire said. She dove off the water tower without another word. Jim watched her go, squinting against the sunset until the light burned his eyes and he had to turn away. The further she faded into the sky, the emptier he felt. He wanted to chase after her and stay with her. Even a brief flash of the old Claire was enough to make him feel new.

He blinked and looked down at the spray paint cans around his feet. He stared at the figure floating above Pearlton and decided to paint another one beside it. When he had carefully drawn the second figure, he grabbed a can of white paint, shook it, and slowly drew a circle around the figures.

“New beginnings mean breaking out of cycles,” he muttered to himself, not sure where he had heard the words. Then he dropped the can into the pile and flew off to warn the Feather about the attack.