Something Deadly This Way Comes (19 page)

I was almost in tears, but Ron was smug as he set his feet wide apart and crossed his arms over his chest in a confident manner. “Then Paul got her a guardian angel after all,” he stated. “If she lives, then she must have her guardian. Good for Paul.”

The angel let go of my shoulder and laughed. The sound pealed forth, shaking the air. Frightened, I wanted to run, but the angel was focused on Ron, not me.

“No!” it said, and a cool breeze touched my face, heavy with moisture, odd here in the desert. “But good for Paul, yes. Madison showed a lost soul how to recognize joy, and Paul's counsel gave her the strength to fight for it. Her fate is changing this very moment, and her life is lived, not endured. She dies with grace and touches many souls.” The seraph turned to me as I stared, openmouthed. “You and Paul did well.”

“Tammy is okay!” I said, elated. We'd done it. We'd done it twice! Surely they had to see now? But then my mood softened, ebbed, and died. Tammy's fate wasn't my only worry. Fingering my amulet, I thought of my body. I had said I'd give the amulet back if I ever found my body. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay. They'd let me stay if I wanted to, right?

“Tammy is okay,” the seraph said, beaming warmth into me to make me feel good despite my world falling apart around me. “Because of you and Paul. Because you
worked together.
”

Ron lost his confident stance, grim and ugly. “Paul is not going to succeed me,” he said vehemently. “This is an outrage! Light and dark working together. It isn't done! I've served for a hundred lifetimes—”

“And you'll continue to do so,” the seraph interrupted him, beautiful bare feet grinding the grit as the angel turned. “You are going to forget Paul's intentions and what has passed this morning.”

My eyes widened as it raised Ron's sword over his head, and plunged it deep into the paving stones. The earth shook, and both Ron and I fell. He scrambled up, but I stayed where I was, feeling the air grow damp against me. Above us, thick rain clouds had formed. Rain in the desert, a gift out of time, out of place.

The angel stood before us, terrible in its beauty and anger. “Reclaim your sword to bring about heaven's will,” it intoned, and Ron looked in horror at his blade sticking out of the patio like Excalibur. “Use the time before you find your bravery to reflect,” the seraph added. “There is one last task for me before I leave this confused maelstrom of existence, and you are not required for it, Chronos.”

I didn't understand why Ron was staring at me so hatefully, standing before his sword as if it was a snake. If he didn't reclaim it, his amulet wouldn't work at full strength.

“He takes it, and his memory of what Paul did this night is gone,” the seraph said, crouching down to be at my level. It was an odd position for an angel, and my breath caught at his nearness.

Slowly I stood up, my eyebrows rising in understanding. “And if he leaves it there, he won't have the strength to stop us,” I said, and the angel beamed, holding out a hand as it knelt before me.

I looked at it, feeling my face going cold. The seraph was asking for my amulet. “One last thing,” it said, and I clutched at the stone.

“You want my amulet,” I whispered, and Ron snorted, clearly not upset that I was going to lose everything as well.

“Yes.” The seraph gracefully rose to a stand as well, still holding a hand out.

“But I proved fate can be changed, that a dying soul can be rekindled,” I said, looking over the cooling desert as if my past deeds would be out there somewhere to find and collect, like pretty rocks. “All of us together, light and dark. We saved Tammy's soul and her life. I know I said I'd give it up when I found my body, but I saw what happened to those who are given guardian angels but aren't able to rekindle their souls on their own, and that is awful.”

“Agreed,” the seraph said. “The songs of the guardian angels did much to sway heaven.”

“But to kill a person outright to save his or her soul,” I lamented. “That is awful, too.”

“Agreed,” the seraph said again, a touch of impatience in its tone, a hand still outstretched. “Your amulet, please. It is confusing here. I want to leave.”

“Give it to the angel, Madison, or it will take it,” Ron said smugly, and my reach to pull it over my head almost stopped. I wanted to cry as I felt the amulet leave me, felt the bond between us stretch and hold. “Paul and I,” I said as the seraph cupped its hands around it, hiding it from me. “We changed things. I can understand why I need to forget, but don't make him forget.”

A glow leaked from between the seraph's fingers, pure and divine. The angel opened its hand, and my white-hot stone slowly cooled, shifting through the spectrum until it was again black. “We have no intention of making him forget,” the seraph said, extending my amulet back to me.

I stared at it, unbelieving.
They are giving it back?

“It took several hundred years of searching the time lines to find someone able to manipulate time and have
the fate
, to make the choice he has made,” the seraph said. “Here. Take your amulet. I want to leave.”

I stared at my amulet, dangling from the seraph's fingers.
They're giving it back?

Slowly I reached out, fingers closing on air an instant before I touched it. “B-but,” I stammered as I looked at it still in the seraph's possession. “I found my body. Claimed it.”

The seraph lowered its arm as Ron began to pace, his sword between us. “Do you want to be the dark timekeeper?” the seraph asked.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, looking at my amulet. “But I want to be alive, too!”

The seraph shrugged. “So you changed your mind,” it said, smiling. “We knew you would. It was fated such. Take your amulet. It has been adjusted.”

Not breathing, I reached out, hesitating.

“Take it!”
the seraph thundered, and I jumped, grabbing it.

“There once was a girl named Madison,” sang a familiar voice, and my eyes shot to the seraph's shoulder. It was Grace, and I could see her. I mean, really see her! She was beautiful, glowing with spiderwebs and dew. I couldn't seem to breathe, and she laughed, almost falling off the seraph's shoulder.

“Check out the time line,” she suggested, and I closed my eyes, gasping. It was so clear, so precise, and tears pricked at my eyes. I could see everything intertwined, one thing affecting the other, until it was singing a glorious, resonant hum of existence. My dad was worried about me. Shoe was thinking of me, curious after having talked to Tammy. Josh was at home, sending me a worried text message. Wendy wasn't thinking about me at all—and that was okay. She was living her life . . . joyfully.

“I'm the dark timekeeper,” I whispered, and my eyes flew open to see Grace beaming.

“You always have been,” the seraph said, kneeling as if trying to get closer to my happiness. “But now you have the chance to be a person, too, to live as those you're trying to save. Even a superhero needs a place to be normal,” it finished with a wry smile.

I sat on the tile and blinked. Far above us, the clouds thickened. It was raining, but the drops were evaporating before reaching the ground. I had my amulet. I had my body. They were going to let me do things my way. “Then you agree?” I said, needing to hear it. “No more scythings?”

Again the seraph laughed, an echo of thunder above following it. “The scythings will continue,” it said, and Ron, standing before his sword with his hands fisted, grunted.

“But you agreed . . .” I started, not caring I was arguing with one of God's angels.

The seraph shifted, standing up to tower over me. “Your plans are sound. But, Madison, the reapers are a different drawer of spoons.”

My shoulders slumped as Ron harrumphed. “Not so easy, Madison,” he taunted, almost reaching for his sword, but not yet ready to consign his memory of Paul's intent to the crapper.

“Reapers serve their timekeepers out of respect,” the seraph said, frowning at Ron's glee. “It is their . . . choice to change or not. The guardian angels are behind this shift as one, but the reapers?”

Depressed, I slumped on Ron's patio, hating his smile at me. “Then I've gained nothing,” I whispered.

The seraph's touch was almost not there, it was so soft as it tilted my chin up to look me in the eye. Grace was behind it, smiling, and my head hurt at their combined beauty. “You've gained everything. You will work with reapers as they come to you seeking answers. And they will come seeking answers. Word of what has happened is echoing between heaven and earth. That you and Paul have worked together has reapers questioning. Both the light
and
dark. Light and dark, they will come to you, and light and dark, you will send them out together as one to save or damn souls. That's why we sent Demus to you. He has doubt. Your questions will be his answers.”

My eyebrows rose. They had sent Demus to me because he might listen? “Then the cullings will stop?” I whispered.

But the seraph was shaking its head, smiling benevolently. “I told you, light and dark, you will pair them up, and light and dark, you will send them out. Together the reapers will try to change fate, but if it is determined that the soul will remain steadfast to ruin despite their efforts, a dark reaper will cull their soul, and a light reaper will weep.”

“I don't understand,” I stammered.

“The cullings will continue,” the seraph insisted. “But it will be the light reaper who deems the soul lost, not the dark.”

My mouth made an O of understanding. The light, who once assigned the guardian angels, would be less likely to write a soul off. A person would have to truly be beyond hope for that to happen. It was enough. This, I decided, I could do.

Seeing my resolve reflected in my eyes, the seraph nodded and drew back. “If a change can be made, then fate will intervene and a life will be lived. I hope this happens. It's up to you.” The seraph smiled, and I almost burst with happiness. “And your reapers. There is no more using the ancient law, though. It worked this time, but you are not to risk yourself in such a way again. Understand?”

I exhaled, smiling wryly up at it. “This is the best I'm going to get, isn't it?”

The seraph arced its wings to touch over its head, an angel's version of a shrug I'd seen Barnabas do. It extended a hand for me, and feeling renewed, I slipped my hand among the angel's fingers as we turned to the sun.

A clear light filled me at the touch, thrilling me down to my toes. The desert vanished with a crack of real lightning. I gasped, and then felt myself go misty. The first patters of large, heavy drops of rain hit my face. I was both there to feel it, and gone, half of me feeling the warm plops of rain, and half the emptiness of nothing. And then the warm wetness vanished and I was nowhere.

I panicked, disembodied and unreal. I clutched at my amulet as if it could save me, but I wasn't sure I even had hands anymore.

A girl once dared walk the line,
came Grace's thought into mine, and I grasped it.
Seeking union of soul and divine. Light and dark work together, for now, perhaps forever, but it's going to take eons of time.

Eons of time, I mused, calming as I realized I was safe. I just wasn't sure where I was anymore. I felt my body seem to lift, finishing the move that the angel had started in the Arizona desert. I took a breath not knowing if it was real. It made my heart beat and my blood move.

A blinding light pulsed over me, and I cowered, my hand that had been in the seraph's grip falling to my side. Blinking, I brought my head up to see that I was standing in my room, not Ron's patio. My reflection stared back at me from my mirror, and Grace darted over everything as if she hadn't seen it in years. Numb, I stared at myself in that ridiculous black outfit. I looked tired, small, and really dirty.

Heart pounding, I turned, not believing it. I was home. Alive.

I looked down, the hand clenching my amulet falling open.

And I still had my amulet.

“Now what?” I wondered aloud, peering into its depths to see sparkles and rainbows.

The mall was pleasantly busy,
the weekend traffic moving quickly past the displayed photographs, most people not seeing them apart from being something to avoid on the way to a new pair of jeans or an iced mocha. But that was how we lived our lives, most times—unless something smacked us hard enough to realize that life is fleeting—too busy with the details of existence to recognize the things that turn existing into living. No, I wasn't depressed, just introspective, and as I stood before Nakita's photograph of a silent hospital at night, I hoped no one noticed the out-of-state plates. She'd taken it at a slant, then went on to blur it to make the lights glow and overtake everything, almost like what I saw in a far-distant flash forward. But still . . . if you looked close . . .

“Did she blur it intentionally?” my dad asked from behind me, and I jumped, almost spilling the milk shake I was slamming down. Josh had gotten it for me before excusing himself to lurk in the nearby food court. He liked my photography, but after five minutes of it, he'd had his fill. Barnabas and Nakita were AWOL, but I figured they were around, avoiding my mother like most people. Yes, my mother. She had shown up unannounced this morning claiming to be here for the mall show, but I think she had been on her way to a California youth detention center and got diverted.
Thank you, God, Barnabas, seraphs, and maybe, Grace.

“Gosh, I've no clue what's in Nakita's mind when she takes pictures,” I said. “She just points and clicks. At everything.”

“Yes, well, you used to be the same way,” my dad good-naturedly chided me as I rolled my eyes. His hand on my shoulder made me feel like I belonged, and I took it, tugging him away before he noticed the out-of-state plates. Neck craning, he tried to get a longer look.

“Whatever she's doing, she needs to keep doing it,” he said, squinting behind him. “All her work has a unique . . . feral quality. It's as if I'm seeing sorrow, concern, or joy for the very first time through her.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said, then he did a double take. “That's not our local hospital, is it?”

“I hadn't noticed.” Flustered, I stopped at Nakita's last entry, then had a mild panic attack. I hadn't seen this one—didn't even remember her taking it. It had won top honors according to the little sticker on the auction slip, but that's not what had me tense. The photograph was of me from the back as I walked down a dark sidewalk, head down and arms over my middle. It was Shoe's house at night, and there were orbs trailing behind me like bubbles. At least fifty. Crap, had there been guardian angels following me and I never even knew it?

“Um, you want to see mine?” I said, tugging on my dad's arm to get him to where my mother stood alone before my three entries, her trendy purse over an arm and her heels planted firmly on the scratched mall floor as if mine were the only photographs out here, but he didn't move, his eyes fixed on Nakita's black-and-white photograph of me with the angels.

“How did she do that?” he asked, finger hovering over the orbs. “And why? Two photos superimposed, you think?”

“Probably,” I said, becoming more nervous. Had they been following me to evaluate me as a timekeeper? Barnabas seemed to think that for all their small size, guardian angels were more powerful than even the seraphs. Could be. Someone told me once that cherubs sat next to God's throne, but the more I heard from the “experts” the more I realized we didn't have a clue.

Slowly my dad's shoulders slumped and his eyes became sorrowful as he peered at the picture. I hesitated, and then, knowing that he wouldn't move until he satisfied his curiosity, I dropped back to stand with him and tried to see what he was looking at—not what was behind the glass, but what was in the mind of the person taking the picture.

The black-and-white threw everything into a misty sharpness, and it looked like the weight of the world was on me. I remembered that night. Nakita had perfectly captured my worry, the need to fix what I'd broken. And as I looked at it, that same tiredness seemed to soak into me again. Nakita was good. Really good.

“Has it been that hard?” my dad whispered, turning to me with a soft pain still in his gaze. “I thought you were happy here. If you want to go back with your mother . . .”

“No!” I quickly assured him, giving him a sideways hug and almost spilling my shake again. “I'm happy. I like it here. I like living with you. I feel . . . centered,” I said, using one of his favorite words. “It was just a rough night. You know . . . boyfriends. But we're okay now.” I glanced at Josh at the food court, then blinked. Barnabas had joined him. “I didn't even know she took it,” I finished.

My dad was looking at my mother, who was standing before my photographs like they were the
Mona Lisa
. “If you're sure.”

“One hundred percent,” I said fervently, then added, “Just don't tell Mom, okay? She makes me wear funny clothes.”

He laughed at that, looking at my short skirt, tights, and the top that was so uncoordinated with the rest that it worked. Much of the tension he'd adopted since finding out my mom was in town seemed to evaporate. He'd been looking at me all morning as if he was trying to figure out what was different. I think his subconscious knew I was alive again, and he was trying to find a more reasonable explanation as to what the change was. Smiling, he put an arm over my shoulder and we slowly moved toward my mom. I'd won an honorable mention, and it was at this one that my mother was standing, her pride radiating from her more than her three-hundred-dollar perfume.

“This is wonderful, Madison,” she said, shunning the pen tied to the auction slip to use her own turquoise-inlaid pen to make an outrageous offer. “Still taking shots of daydreams?” she added, referring to my childhood preoccupation of photographing clouds. This one was nothing special, just a photograph to fulfill a class requirement. It didn't deserve even an honorable mention as far as I was concerned. The one I'd taken of the black wings circling an abandoned house hadn't even placed.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her equal hug-time so they wouldn't start arguing. I pressed into her, my eyes closing at the scent of raw silk. Her grip on me seemed a shade too tight, a moment too long, and she seemed concerned when I broke from her and she searched my gaze. She looked the same in her fashionable shoes, her creased slacks, and her silk blouse. Her hair was in the latest conservative cut, and her makeup was perfect. She had huffed as usual at my choice of clothes and Dad's casual slacks and shirt, but I could tell she was worried about me. The wrinkles around her eyes had broken free of her expensive cream to give her away.

“I can't believe you came up all the way from Florida for a mall show, Mom,” I said, trying to get her to stop looking at Barnabas and Josh.

Her attention came back to me, and a quick, unsure smile flashed across her. “And miss this? Not going to happen. I didn't have anything this week but a cancer fund-raiser, and the people running it know better than me what needs to be done.” She put her pen away, carefully ignoring my dad as she moved to the picture with the black wings.

“Did I tell you they had me changing planes in Arizona?” my mother added, shaking her head at the “crows.” “The connecting flight was canceled. I almost got on a flight to San Diego, not Illinois. Hell of a way to run an airline.”

I fidgeted, not knowing what to say. “Well, I'm glad you're here,” I finally said. “It really means a lot to me.” I slurped the last of my shake, seeing my dad hide a smile as my mom frowned at the rude noise. It was the first time in months that I'd eaten anything in front of him without duress. I was still hungry, too, and I glanced at the nearby food court where Barnabas waited with Josh and a half-eaten plate of fries. Nakita had shown up, standing with her hip cocked and her eyes narrowed. She and Barnabas were arguing. Big surprise.

My mother, ever sensitive to the boys around her one and only daughter, raised her eyebrows at the incongruous trio. Barnabas was eye candy to the max, but it was Josh who was watching me with hopeful eyes, even as he stuffed fries in his mouth. My stomach rumbled. It seemed like it was making up for lost time. At least my bruises didn't show.

“Hey, um, you guys mind if I go talk to my friends for a minute?” I asked, wanting some of those fries before Josh ate them all.

“Yes, go,” my mother said, frowning suspiciously at Barnabas. “They're invited to come with us for lunch,” she added, her gaze rising to linger on my amulet.

“I'll ask.” I was backing up, and I flushed when my dad shook his wrist, then adjusted his watch.

“Reservations at twelve thirty,” my mother added. “I think the van I rented will hold all of us. I'd like to meet your new friends.” She looked at her watch and murmured, “Eleven seventeen, Bill.” Looking up with an exhale, she said to me, “Especially your boyfriends.”

Oh, God. Just take me now.
“You've met Josh,” I said guardedly, knowing she was talking about Barnabas.

“Who is that other young man talking to Nicki?” she asked.

“It's Nakita,” I corrected her, growing uncomfortable as Nakita seemed to deflate at something Barnabas said, the reaper's anger washing away to leave only sadness. Something was going on. Josh, too, looked unhappy.

“And Barnabas isn't my boyfriend,” I said, my mouth dropping open as Nakita gave Barnabas a hug. “He's more like . . .” I hesitated, blinking as Nakita turned and walked away, head down and looking miserable. “He's helped me with a few issues,” I said, my voice preoccupied.
What on earth is going on?

My mother cleared her throat, and I turned, flushing at her unbelieving gaze. “He seems to be quite the Casanova.”

When my mother got it wrong, she really got it wrong. “Yea-a-a-ah,” I said, just wanting to go over and find out what was up. “Um, would you mind if I, uh . . .”

“Go!” my dad said, finding his own Bic pen in a pocket and topping my mother's offer on my lackluster photograph. My mother huffed as I was turning away. I couldn't help my smile. I knew that there wasn't a chance that they would ever get back together again, but there was a peace that hadn't been there before, and it was nice to have them both around me. Centered, as my dad would say.

Head down as I lived for a moment in my tiny daydream, I tossed my empty shake cup away, feeling good as I joined Barnabas and Josh. Running a fry through his ketchup, Josh gave me an understanding grin as he took in my folks, one comfortable and almost sloppy, the other uptight and proper.

“Madison, your mom looks . . . nice?” he offered, and I snorted.

“I can't imagine why you and your mother didn't get along,” Josh added, and I slumped into my chair.

“She's okay,” I said, pulling myself upright so my mom wouldn't frown. “She just wants to be sure I'm safe.”

I reached for one of Josh's fries, and he pushed the plate to me. A warm spot grew in my middle, and I smiled. Yeah, he liked me. A guy wouldn't just give up his fries like that if he didn't.

Barnabas brought his gaze back from the shop that Nakita had gone into, his expression cross. “I can't go for lunch,” he said irately.

My eyebrows went up. “You heard that?”

Josh squirted more ketchup out. “He heard your entire conversation. Sitting with him is like sitting with an FBI agent.
I
, though, would like to go to lunch.” He ate a fry, narrowly escaping dripping ketchup on himself. “I already cleared it with my mom,” he added, mouth full.

I followed Barnabas's dark gaze down the hall. He was brooding about Nakita. “I, ah, talked to Paul this morning,” I said, and Barnabas jerked his attention back to me. A trace of what might be alarm drifted through him, and I put up a hand.

“We're good,” I said. “Ron pulled his sword out of his patio and he doesn't remember anything about Paul helping us last night.”

“Good, good.” Barnabas's words weren't quite jiving with his body language. “I heard from Paul, too,” he added, eyes on the table.

“Really?” I hoped Nakita was okay. It wasn't like her to just . . . leave like that. She'd been on cloud nine, maybe literally, since finding out that I'd retained my timekeeper position and that things had the potential to change.

The silence brought my attention back to the table. Josh was giving Barnabas a look, and the reaper was studiously ignoring him, gazing at his amulet. The usually flat stone was glowing, and I saw the hint of yellow in it. As in shifting to red, yellow.

“What's going on?” I asked, remembering Nakita's angry, then sad mood.

“Just tell her, Barney,” Josh prompted him, earning a glare from the reaper.

“Tell me what?” I demanded.

Still, Barnabas sat there with his lips pressed tight, hands clasped tightly on the table. I could see my mother beyond him, watching us.

Josh slurped some of his drink. “Barnabas wants to go back to Ron,” he said flatly.

My lips parted, and I sat up straight. “Excuse me?”

My loud exclamation had caught my mom's attention, but my dad caught her elbow and tugged her away, giving us the privacy that I deserved but she didn't understand.

“Ron?” I said softer, but no less vehemently.

Barnabas's expression had gone from defiant to miserable. Dark eyes pleading, he reached for my hands, and I pulled them away. No wonder Nakita was pissed.

“It's not like that,” he said, “and I don't want to go back
to
Ron. I want to go back
with
Paul.”

Paul?

Seeing my anger hesitate, Barnabas leaned in. “Madison, I talked to Paul this morning after the seraph tuned your amulet. He says that not only does Ron not remember him helping us but that Ron doesn't remember me leaving him, either. Ron thinks I'm still a light reaper in good standing. Why do you think the seraph did that?”