Angel Star (13 page)

I don’t think she noticed the quiver in my voice and she didn’t press for more. For now, all was safe as far as Garreth was concerned.

Except for Claire.

All was not safe for her.

A tear escaped down my cheek as tiny pieces of my dream began trickling in, the numbness wearing off. My mother wanted to console me but I insisted I wanted to be alone.

It was all starting to become a little more clear.

Hadrian. My father. Claire.

The connections were there, piecing themselves together, and finally tears rolled down my cheeks as I mentally tallied who would be next.

I can’t let this happen.

I wrapped my arms around my body and for the first time in years, I prayed for someone other than my family.

I prayed for Garreth.

F
eeling a presence, I turned to find my angel standing silently in the corner near my dresser. He had a strange look on his face, as if he was seeing me for the first time.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

“No one’s ever prayed for me before.”

I held my arms out to him and he crossed the floor to sit with me.

“I’ve always heard
your
prayers. You prayed for me to come to you when you had a bad dream. I even heard you pray for a perfect, selfless, superwonderful boy to fall in love with. But I’ve never heard you pray for
me.
”

I couldn’t erase the thoughts stirring in my head. “Maybe it’s about time someone did.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You said Guardians become vulnerable when they are protecting their human. I’m making matters worse.”

“Don’t even go there, Teagan. Nothing is going to happen to us. Everything will be all right.”

He was reassuring, in a defiant sort of way, as if worries like this surfaced all the time. Nonetheless, I was responsible for placing him in the direct line of danger from Hadrian, and living with this sinking feeling was not at all pleasant.

Without a word, he gently wiped away my tears, soothing me into a calm sleep.

When I awoke, he was gone and I was full of the strangest sensation I could ever imagine. My mind flickered back to Claire. My dream. My mother waking me in the night to tell me the horrible truth that I somehow already knew. Claire was dead. Not missing from my life because she was still angry at me. Not missing because she was still in the woods where I left her.

She was gone.

Dead.

Somehow I accepted it but I couldn’t comprehend it.

I reached for my phone. The inbox was empty, as I should have known. Its silence screamed the ugly truth. I wanted to check my e-mail but Claire never e-mailed me. I wanted to look out my window and see her waiting in her car at the curb.

I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the normal.

Claire, checking her face in the mirror and singing along to her music in an awkward voice.

Claire, reporting the latest gossip on someone, anyone,
anyone
worth gossiping about except…she wasn’t.

She wasn’t.

I felt myself sink to the floor but didn’t feel myself hit it. I felt wetness on my face. If I hadn’t left with Garreth, would I be dead too? Was that what this was all about? Either way I looked at it, it didn’t make any sense. So I stopped looking at it. It hurt too much.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and looked at myself in the mirror with a blank expression. The smell of bacon wafted up the steps as I walked down. I found my mother at the stove, preparing a meal she knew I would never eat, but like the good mother she was, that didn’t stop her from going through the motions. I sat down in silence at the table and flicked at the curled edges of the morning’s newspaper with my finger.

She shot me a look of motherly concern and turned back to the bacon. “I’m glad you slept. That’s the best thing for you right now.” She placed a plate of warm, crispy fat in front of me. I just stared at it.

“If Garreth hadn’t shown up to bring me home I would…I might be…” She looked at me with a tender expression and I saw her eyes begin to fill up with tears. I couldn’t finish. I didn’t have to.

“Garreth. That’s an unusual name. I’d like to thank him for bringing you home safely. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a guardian angel.” She turned back to the spattering fat in the pan and I felt myself blush.

If she only knew.

I guess I always assumed she would be protective but it surprised me how easy this was. A smile appeared without even trying as I thought of her meeting Garreth and approving, but that smile soon faded.

“I heard that Claire’s boyfriend is an emotional wreck,” she said cautiously. “He told the police he tried to stop her. I just don’t understand how a couple of kids could sneak up to the roof unseen.”

“Roof?”

Mom sat down across from me and nudged my untouched plate, urging me to eat.

“That building is very dilapidated and should have been shut down years ago, but it never stopped kids from flocking to it.” She reached out and took my hand. “Claire slipped from the roof. She fell. At least that’s what Mrs. Meyers told me last night. I didn’t want to tell you all of it and you didn’t ask, so I let it go.”

She dug into her share of bacon while I played with mine. A part of me was thankful she didn’t gloss it over for my sake. It was better to know. Better to know what I was up against, if Hadrian did, in fact, have something to do with it. I bit off a small piece of my breakfast and crumbled the rest with my fingers. It fell to the greasy plate like ocher confetti.

As she quietly started to clear the table, she leaned down and gently kissed me. This was probably just as hard for her. Someone else close to us lost forever. Gone. Just like that. I looked up at my mother, knowing I should say something, but the words wouldn’t come to me. She had turned away and was now facing the sink, busying herself with the daily routine of life. Last night played over and over in my head. Could I have done anything differently?

I sighed heavily and let my head fall into my hands, but not without noticing today’s date on the newspaper. Today was Sunday. I only had four days left with Garreth. I realized something horrible was brewing inside of me. Something I was having a hard time controlling. What hurt tremendously was that I couldn’t grieve for Claire like I should. I should be crying hysterically, pining for my best friend of eight years. Eight years of friendship. Gone. And hate was taking its place.

My head shot up with a jerk. The number eight again. Claire and I met in third grade. She was eight years old and I was just turning nine. Eight years later, she’s dead and I’m in love with an angel and fighting to save humanity. Eight. The octagram has eight points. Garreth’s star. He was granted eight days to be with me. To be human. Claire’s life is over. When life ends, an incarnation ends. The Judgment Point. Eight lives. It was spinning through my head and I couldn’t stop it. It was meant to happen. Last night. It was all meant to…

The kitchen moved strangely. Tilting. My mother’s body spun at an odd angle as she turned and called out my name. The frying pan was suddenly airborne, sending soapy grease everywhere. Then all went black as my head hit the floor.

My mother gently tapped on my door. “Teagan? Are you just about ready?”

I smoothed the front of my skirt with my hands and stared at the girl in the mirror reflecting back at me. Something had changed, her eyes perhaps. I leaned closer to look deeper into the green eyes trapped within the glass. No, she was in there.

Just checking.

“Yeah, Mom. I’m ready.”

I opened my door and found my mother’s warm smile. I couldn’t help smiling back.

“You look nice. How’s your head? That’s quite a fall you took at breakfast, almost hit the table. ”

I rubbed the back of my skull and flinched. “Still tender, but it’s okay.”

“You made me nervous, but I guess it’s normal that you slept so long. You had a rough night. Just don’t forget to take more Tylenol. We’re leaving for the church in a few minutes. Are you sure you’re all right?”

I nodded and she gave me another smile, this one a little more apprehensive than the first, then she turned and headed down the steps, her heels clicking softly on the floor. The house still smelled like bacon grease. It lingered, reminding me of this morning. Suddenly, I wanted to get out of the house, far, far away from the smell that was beginning to turn my stomach.

By the time our car pulled away from the curb and headed west toward the church, my head was beginning to clear. The throbbing ceased, allowing me to think, and I was truly thankful that my mother didn’t bother filling the empty space of our short car ride with mindless chitchat. I couldn’t help thinking about Claire, though in a numb, detached sort of way that both relieved and appalled me. I began wondering all sorts of things, like what should I say to her parents, or was it okay not to say anything at all? Would Ryan be there? Would Brynn and her tagalongs dare show their faces?

Today was a memorial service. The viewing would be tomorrow, followed by the funeral the next day. My head was a gigantic jumble as thoughts wove themselves within it. There was so much weighing on my shoulders, so much depending on me, that I couldn’t help but think I would be of better use somewhere else.

As we drew near the church and rounded the corner, I couldn’t help noticing the reflection of a gray Jeep in the side mirror. It was two cars back but had no trouble keeping up with my mother’s erratic driving. I smiled to myself.

It was an old church, the type that had hard wooden pews that were smooth and worn and numbed your bottom. An old, comforting smell was always present here, a smell I could never put my finger on but had breathed in every Sunday since I was a child. Sometimes it smelled of incense, especially on holidays, but it could never compare to the tantalizing smell that Garreth possessed. I closed my eyes to conjure that aroma rolling off his perfect skin. With that thought, I opened my eyes and turned around to look for him, hoping I would find him standing somewhere toward the back, but it was becoming crowded.

People were filing in, finding their places among the pews. I tried not to notice their awkward glances, so I stared down at my lap. But I still felt their stares and heard the whispers of Claire’s relatives, pointing me out. The sun was beginning to set, creating a warm glow of orange and purple across the open room, across the bridges of people’s noses in the fourth row, across the little cabinet that held the Host near the altar.

I heard the first five minutes of the homily before my thoughts began to wander, much like they always did. But part of me purposely tried to drown out the priest’s words. He had no idea what Claire was like and I couldn’t pretend to listen anymore. My eyes roamed the room and I smiled back at a lady in a lilac suit.

What would happen if I approached the altar and told them what Claire had been like last night?

“Hey, everybody, Claire kidnapped me so we could go to this raucous party, and you should have seen her milky eyes. She was downright freaky. She even arranged for fake IDs. But, hey, she spent the last moments of her life with wonderful, loving friends. Me? No, I abandoned her so I could hang out with my boyfriend who, by the way, has wings and is helping me thwart an evil angel’s plot against the world. So, if you think we’re all going to go to heaven someday, think again, because our futures lie in my hands!”

Maybe it was better to let the priest have center stage after all.

They would cart me off to the loony bin faster than my mother could tell them I bumped my head this morning, or explain to them why I still smelled like bacon.

The setting sun had faded the faces in the stained glass windows so only their outlines remained. I stared at the blank, fleshy ovals with curiosity. For some reason, the clothing, the robes, were still very much visible but the faces had disappeared and were now eerie and hollow-looking.

As though on cue, it began to rain outside, adding to the thick, somber cloud lingering inside the church. I watched the rain stream down the windows, mesmerized by the way the drops and rivulets altered the colors, graying them, lending a smeared appearance to the faceless bodies I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from.

One in particular managed to capture my interest more than the others and was conveniently positioned above our pew, minimizing unwanted eye contact with the rest of the congregation. This glass rendering, this one likeness, failed to disappear like all the others. It was a beautiful angel, its white wings outstretched as though hovering protectively over my seat. At first, it reminded me of
my
angel and I thought for sure it held some significance. But to my amazement, I realized the face was female. It wasn’t Garreth. It was
me
.

At that moment, my mother poked my side and pointed. “Look, Teagan, that angel looks just like you. Isn’t that the strangest thing?”

She was right. My mother turned her attention back to the priest then bowed her head to pray, but my eyes stayed put. I couldn’t look away from the glass angel. The rain was coming down heavier than ever now, dimming the likeness in the glass. A passing car disrupted my thoughts. Its red taillights illuminated the angel from behind in a scarlet glow no one else seemed to notice. I looked around the room. Everyone’s head was bowed except mine. My eyes returned to the window above me and I shuddered as I saw the still-red glow penetrate the raindrops and spill down the angel’s face like tears of blood.

M
onday morning came just as all Mondays do, with the alarm screaming in my ear and my hand reaching out to pound the snooze button. If only Monday mornings could somehow stay trapped in the timeless sleep of the night before, forgotten. But, no, not Monday. In fact, if Monday were a student at Carver High School, it would win the stock of perfect attendance awards

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, then flung myself back onto my pillow as the one dreaded thought crept into my head. School. I had forgotten about the chemistry test today, which I hadn’t studied for, and the new English paper would be assigned today.