02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (6 page)

The temperature has dropped with the sun, and I’m blasting the jeep’s heater and bouncing in my seat, singing backup to “Christmas Bop” by T. Rex at the top of my lungs. It’s a great way to stay warm and burn off nervous energy, even if I look like an idiot. Which I know I do because I can see Michael standing on his porch and laughing as I pull up at his house.

I stop and cut the engine. My cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as I climb down. Michael meets me in the yard, smiling.

“Well, that was entertaining,” he says, taking my hand and leading me around the side of the house.

It’s cold and I start shivering. “Aren’t we going inside? We can tell your family that you’re still tutoring me in astronomy. Which nobody ever seems to doubt, by the way.” I give him a perturbed look but he isn’t paying attention.

He stops beneath a tree and pulls me into his arms. He crushes me against him until I can’t breathe.

“Michael!” I grunt, and he relaxes a bit. Then I snuggle myself more comfortably into his arms, and he buries his face in my hair, inhaling.

“Mmm, you smell so good,” he murmurs.

“Who can smell in this cold?”

“So good, in fact, that I’ll forgive you for being three minutes late.”

I smile but wonder if he is kidding.

Michael leans back and looks at me. His eyes are cobalt and full of secrets. He gives me that slow, sexy grin, and I feel myself growing warm from the inside out. He is trying to stay calm but is excited about something. His chews on the inside of his cheek, contemplating.

“Come,” he says, taking my hand again. We continue toward the back of the property, where the land slopes naturally and runs a hundred yards until it meets the forest. Everything is bluish white under the moon. Spectacular. A Currier and Ives Christmas card.

Michael stops and we stand, hand in hand, gazing appreciatively at the winter
wonderland. It’s quiet because winter has stripped away its sins and Heaven has thrown a mantle over everything. I smile knowing that Hope hibernates deep underground.

“I imagine this is what Heaven is like,” I murmur. “Calm, pristine, covered in a bluish white blanket of frozen precipitation.” I peek up at Michael to gage his reaction. He is staring ahead, smiling. Michael has yet to confirm or deny any heavenly descriptions I toss out. Always withholding details of his supernatural life as though he’s trying to forget he is an angel when I’m around. The irony is blinding; I want so much to start my supernatural life, and Michael wants so much to be as human as possible. At least when he’s with me. The grass is always greener, I suppose.

Michael looks down at me. “I thought my California girl might like to sample the local flavor.”

“It’s magnificent,” I say.
Being here with you, Michael, not just the view
.

“Yeah, well, this ain’t it.” He laughs and tugs me along and we’re off again.

We take a path through the pasture, and I walk in giant footprints that have gone before me. They are at least two feet deep, and I have to step up and over or I’ll miss.

We pass through the edge of the forest and come out the other side to a red barn. I come to an abrupt stop. In front of the barn is a beautiful palomino hitched to an old-fashioned sleigh.

“Michael!” I breathe.

“Happy anniversary.”

Oh shit! Really?

I feel my eyes swell. I have forgotten our … Wait—how long have we been dating? I must look panicked because Michael says, “Eight weeks, Sophia,” in his no-nonsense voice.

“Oh.” I scramble to calculate if he’s right or not. “When did you start counting?”

“That night in the courthouse when you went all Jezebel and jumped out the window.”

I fold my arms and give him a snarky look. “Jezebel? Really? That’s what we’re calling it? I thought maybe it was the night I went all in and called your bluff.”

Michael grasps my chin and gazes deep into my eyes. He is serious and calm. “I don’t care what you call it. Just remember it was the night you became mine. Do you understand, Sophia? You are mine.”

My tummy shivers because that’s the sexiest thing I have ever heard. Michael Patronus, guardian angel extraordinaire, said I was his.

I throw my arms around his neck, and Michael wraps me in his arms and lifts me up.

“I take it that you do understand?” he asks, and I whimper “Yeah” into his warm neck.

He walks to the sleigh with me dangling against his body and then sets me aboard. There is a plaid blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting. The horse has a string of bells attached to his white tail.

“You know, people write songs about this kind of stuff.” I laugh and pat the horse’s rump.

“His name is David,” Michael says, and I say, “Hello, David.”

Michael watches me, evaluating my reaction to it all. He’s always curious to know if he has done the right thing—the right
human boyfriend
thing. For all his confidence in the supernatural area and his recent claim on me, Michael still has doubts. Which only makes him adorable in my book.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Perfect.” I smile.

“Good, then stop looking at me like I’m some adorable kitten. Trust me, being adorable is the last thing I have in mind.” He snaps the reins, and we take off with my mouth hanging open.

Michael relaxes and sits back, wrapping an arm around me. I snuggle beneath the blanket and stare ahead as we glide smoothly over the gleaming snow. I’m trying to find a safe place in my head for his comment, but it’s like a labyrinth up there.

David trots and the bells jingle. The air is frigid as it dances across my face, insisting that I taste its coldness on my tongue. If snowfall had a sound, it would sound like bells, God’s saltshaker tapping down grains of Heaven. Being from Southern California, I was surprised to learn that snow had a fragrance. But it’s not altogether unfamiliar. I remember Armaros, the frosty guy I first met in the library basement and then again at the Borderland with Mom. He smelled just like our recent snow squall.

Armaros has always been a curious thing for me, but since Michael doesn’t like to talk about him, I keep the memories to myself.

We slide into the forest, making our own path. Patches of black and blue flash on and off as we sail in and out of clearings. We turn right at a huge boulder covered with a pad of snow like an old man’s toupee. A long river gleams before us, a sapphire ribbon under the moon. Like everything else, it’s frozen and still.

I notice the first lantern perched on a rock next to the river. It’s exquisite and unique, like some handblown European glass set adrift in an ocean of cream. I sit forward and “Oooo” at it. The lantern’s light is red but shines purple under the blue moon.

I see the next lantern as we climb higher. And then the next and the next. We
follow a trail of glowing purple lanterns like crumbs in the forest until we round a corner and they appear all at once in a glorious display up the side of a cliff.

It’s looming and flat as though sheared in half during the ice age. High in the center is a giant waterfall that pours into a long, vertical drop. It’s milky white, unmoving, and completely frozen. Snow has found places to land on each side of the frozen waterfall. It drapes over lumpy boulders, towering pines, and stubborn brush born in crevices. Tiny purple campfires nestle on every available ledge, because Michael could not leave well enough alone. I imagine him climbing up and meticulously placing each lantern for maximum effect. He has succeeded; it’s beauty repeated over and over.

The sleigh eventually stops, and I jump to my feet, gaping up in wonder. Mounds and mounds of water have frozen over the steep cliff top in bluish white ripples and stopped as though someone hit the Pause button. Thin ribbons of water have halted progress and become jagged stalactites suspended above a wide pool. Time is standing still because some winter witch has cast a spell against Mother Nature’s decree that all waterfalls must drop. It’s breathtaking. I’m speechless.

Michael hugs me from behind and murmurs, “I knew you’d like it.” Words are not necessary. I shake my head in wonder.
I’ve never seen anything so amazing, and he knows it
.

Michael laughs and hops to the ground. “Come.” He lifts me out of the sleigh to stand beside him. “I learned something today that I’d like to try.” He holds out his hand. “Trust me?”

I give him a look that says,
Do you really need to ask?

“Good,” he says and leads me to the edge of the deep pool at the base of the waterfall. It’s frozen, too, and I can almost see our reflections in the mirrorlike surface. Michael puts a lantern in my hand and steps away. He blows into his hands like they’re cold and then rubs them together, his eyes never leaving mine. Michael’s hands aren’t cold—this is T-shirt weather to him—so I know he is gearing up for something. I’m nervous. The last time I saw this look, fetching appeared along his forearms, and he took me flying over Haven Hurst.

“Take a closer look,” he says, nodding at the frozen waterfall. I frown suspiciously at him and then turn and look up.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—whoa!” I’m slowly lifting off the ground. My head whips around and I see Michael, standing with his right arm pointed in my direction. He’s staring with serious concentration as he levitates me.

Okay, so he doesn’t
always
want to do the
human boyfriend
thing.

“Michael!” My voice is wobbly like my body, and my free hand flails. The other
grips the lantern for dear life.

I rise higher and higher, gliding over the pool that looks dark with a layer of crystal frosting from this angle. Up I go, toward the waterfall as though I’m drawn by the water itself. Because I know all things are made to fall, I’m afraid. A terrified sound I’ve never heard before escapes my mouth. I wish Michael was with me but he remains where I left him.

The pressure of his meditation finds the deepest part of me and denies gravity its job, lifting and pushing and maneuvering me higher in the air. I come to a stop, hovering before the cliff where the river tips over and becomes the massive waterfall. Layers of thick frozen water glow purple in front of my lantern.

“Do you see them?” Michael calls up, and I try to twist around and look at him but can’t.

“What?” I wail.

“Look! In the water!” he yells, and I raise the lantern and squint in the murky light.

Vague outlines appear in the frozen water. Sticks, leaves, various debris, and fish. Lots of fish with their eyes bulging and mouths open.

“Holy crap!” I holler down. “It’s like they’re petrified!”

Michael turns me around to face the wide expanse of countryside behind me. Lights twinkle in the distance, and the dark sky goes on forever. My lungs fill with cold dry air, and I look down at him. He is smiling so I laugh.

“This is pretty cool but why didn’t you just fly us both up here? Two is better than one, you know?”

“Because I really wanted to do this.” He moves his arm to the left, and I zip across the air toward a patch of snow-covered trees.

“Ahhh!” I scream and crash into the softness. I don’t fall but spiral around as snow rains down. I burst out laughing and accidentally drop the lantern. It sails into a snow bank and disappears. “Again!” I yell, and Michael flings me back across the clearing and into bushes protruding from boulders. I feel like a marionette, with Michael pulling the strings.

He tosses me in the air, doing flips and spins and dangling me upside down. I fear we’re pushing our luck and gravity will eventually demand to be obeyed, but Michael is relentless. He sends me to the top of the hill, skirting me across the snow until my boots skim the surface like I’m snowboarding. Down into nature’s half-pipe and then back up, high into the air in a double backflip. I cry out, arms flailing, but I never lose balance because the puppeteer is in control.

I drop fast, zooming at an arc to slide across the crystallized pool on my butt. I fly down the frozen river, hitting a few mild waterfalls, and bouncing along on my bottom. I’m laughing so hard that my tears are running horizontal from my eyes.
Six Flags never had a ride like this!

I shoot down the river, hit the next waterfall, but take flight instead of dropping. Michael is returning me to the top of the cliff. I hover over the deep pool with my arms straight out and slowly rotate a three-sixty. A cold breeze ruffles my clothes and lifts my hair. Twice, I turn a full circle before coming to a stop on the ledge of the waterfall. He has set me down on a particularly lumpy chunk of ice, and I squirm to get comfortable. I’m panting great swells of fog. I look down at Michael, his arm still raised in my direction; he is the maestro, smiling in satisfaction at the end of a concert.

I hold out my hand, begging him to join me. Fetching fans out along his forearms, and then Michael drifts up the face of the cliff to sit next to me. Once he’s settled, the fetching retracts so it won’t cut me, and he slips his hand in mine; it’s warm and I snuggle closer.

“Thank you so much,” I say, breathlessly. My nose and ears feel red and frozen but I don’t care. Next to actually flying with Michael, that was the most amazing experience of my life.

“A bit of the local flavor,” Michael says, and tugs at my heart three times.

“I love you, too,” I say, and he winks.

Our legs dangle over the edge and we look out across the countryside. We’re so high up that the views go on forever. As far as the eye can see there is only white. Blankets, mounds, clumps, crevices, and valleys of white. If Heaven doesn’t look like this, they’re getting gypped.

“How is it that you just
now
learned to do that? I mean, I guess I thought it would come naturally, making people fly.”

“No, not naturally, exactly. You see, during a fight, guardians can hurl the enemy around, knocking them into things. Destroying them. With you, I was concentrating my efforts into a pinpoint target, making you rise and fall, turn and twist, as I wanted. I’ve never done it before. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Are you showing off?”

“Yup. Are you complaining?”