Halflings (14 page)

“It’s hard to explain, but they would be mercilessly hunted if a child were left with them. Whereas Will has a direct line to heavenly communication — something Halflings don’t have — and he’s battled the enemy for Millennia.”

“Why?” Her gaze flittered to the back door. “What
is
Will?”

Mace’s gaze darted back to the house, then to the ground before returning to her eyes. “A heavenly angel. Though caring for us isn’t a glamorous assignment.”

“What do you mean?” she said, still trying to unify words like
half angel
and
the Holocaust
.

“I’ll explain, but he can’t know I told you. Will once held a high position in heaven’s army. He was a general with a multitude of angelic warriors beneath him. But … he was demoted.”

“What did he do?”

There was a moment’s pause before Mace answered. “He murdered a human.”

Nikki popped up from the seat, body tensing. “On purpose?”

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s why they call it murder.” She stared down at him.
There’s a human-killing angel warrior inside, who isn’t exactly fond of me at the moment, and that’s all you can say?
Mace’s mouth quirked a little. “Maybe you can ask him about it sometime.”

She pulled a breath. Then another. And a third. “Okay, okay, so three Lost Boys to one caretaker and you fight for what’s …
right
. Where do the assignments come from? Are you a prisoner or do you freely choose?”

“Each of us must choose on which side he’ll fight.”

“Are there Halflings fighting on the enemy’s side?” Nikki asked.

“None that I know of. From birth we’re told what we are. Our place in the universe, or lack thereof.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mace. But God doesn’t sound very nice. This sounds like a really crappy deal.”

His body became rigid. “We aren’t his seed. But he allows us the privilege to war on his behalf. There is no greater honor in heaven or earth. Our journeys, or assignments, come directly from the Throne. And we’re exceedingly glad he’s taken us in.”

“You
want
to fight?” she whispered.

“I’m a warrior, Nikki. This is my purpose. So don’t feel bad for me.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.
Note to self: Don’t bash God.
In fact,
she needed to be careful about bashing this whole unfair situation. It seemed as though Mace had every obstacle thrown at him, and likely no reward at the end of his journey, he served the Throne faithfully and apparently worked hard to protect humans. No wonder he was so serious: in his line of work, people’s lives were on the line. A thought occurred to her. “You all have different shades of blue eyes.”

He nodded.

“Are all Halflings like that?”

“All that I’ve seen. But I’ve never seen a female. It’s possible their eyes are different.”

“Are there no female Halflings?” She caught herself. “Wait, that’s a stupid question. You said both your parents were Halflings.”

He smiled. “There are a few females, but since the male determines the sex of the child, and our male ancestors were angels, and all angels are male, we’re less likely to encounter females.”

All angels are male? Okaaaay. That truth killed another of her assumptions. No flying baby cherubs and no females.
Check.
Her eyes blinked back a strange static sensation while unearthly particles seemed to gather, dragging her attention back to the sky. The air surrounding the porch became electric, causing her exposed skin to crawl as if a thousand ants scurried beneath the surface. Her heart rate increased to — what felt like, at least — an unhealthy level. Just how many times could it do that before bursting through her chest? “What’s happening?” She stopped breathing, not wanting to draw any of that weird electric air into her lungs.

Mace stood and started to lead her back into the house. At the door, he paused, and slowly, so slowly, a smile spread across
his face. “Breeeeeathe,” he whispered, and the words feathered across her face.

Something internal shuddered and her mind whirled to catch up, to process that an angel’s breath had just assailed her and set her on fire. In that moment, the electricity in the air disappeared. All that remained was her, Mace, and his breath that completely and thoroughly tore her world away.

M
ace led her into the house, passing through the kitchen and into the living room, where Raven and Vine sat on the couch and Will stood stoic in the center of the room, his massive back to them.

Mace spoke first. “What’s going —”

A wide hand slashed the air, stopping firm at shoulder height. “Quiet,” Will said. “Heaven whispers.”

All movement ceased as Nikki drew a sudden intake of air; even Raven had become focused on Will like a curious child. The moment stretched. She wondered how long she could hold her breath before passing out. Tracers of light shot past her vision.

Mace placed a hand on her arm. “You can breathe,” he whispered, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “I thought we covered this outside.”

She exhaled, blood rushing to her brain. “What’s happening?” she hissed just loud enough for Mace’s ears.

He leaned closer, their arms dusting one another. That was nice — her arm felt lonely since leaving the porch swing.

Mace whispered, “Will’s receiving a message from …” His words trailed off when the giant angel turned to face them.

“You must go quickly, Mace.” Will’s finger pointed to them as if it were a knife pinning them to the wall. “There’s a laboratory about an hour away. Within its walls are the answers to our journey. But you must hurry.” His gaze slashed to Nikki, sending chills down her spine. “Take the Seer with you.”

Raven and Vine both stood. “Seer,” Raven mumbled. “We should have known.” His accusatory glance drifted to Will. “You could have told us.”

“Raven and Vine will remain here,” Will’s voice thundered.

Mace grabbed Nikki’s hand and tugged her toward the front door, stopping to grab a notebook and pencil from the foyer table.

He paused when she hesitated. Why her? Raven and Vine were ready to go. Why did Will instruct Mace to drag her along?

“Nikki, the answers are waiting for us. Aren’t you curious?”

Curious, yes. Ready to jump headlong into a battle between two worlds? Not so much.
But what else could she do — go home and hide under the covers? No. She wasn’t geared to run and hide. The faintest of smiles pulled at her lips. “Let’s go.”

They ran to Mace’s black Camaro. He pulled the passenger door open and threw her inside, then shoved the notebook and pencil into her hand before slamming her door. “Draw,” he said as he dropped behind the wheel.

She held the writing utensil as if a foreign object. If he didn’t look so serious she would have laughed. “Draw what?”

“What you see,” he said with a shrug, and tossed gravel as he pulled out of the driveway.

“You don’t understand … I can’t just —”

He tapped the paper with his index finger. “Draw what you see with the eyes of your spirit.”

She shook her head, heaved a breath, and lay pencil to paper. Compared to everything else she’d seen and learned in the past few hours, this instruction seemed simple. And in a way it made a lot of sense. The first lesson she’d ever received was
Don’t draw what you see, draw what you don’t see.
The negative space. The half oval that makes the hole in the handle of a coffee mug. The shapes around a chair’s legs. The curves behind a flower petal. Within a few minutes, lines and shapes became the outline of a building: tall, at least four stories, surrounded by a wide parking lot and landscaped trees and shrubs to soften the harsh structure. A row of windows anchored the first floor. “Hey,” she said, glancing over at him. “It’s working.” Her focus returned to the page as the amazing process continued. But strange, curved angles jutted from the top of the building, pointing to the sky with disturbing ferocity.

“Is the building shaped strangely?” Nikki asked.

Mace’s attention left the road for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there. Why?”

She tapped her pencil against the drawing.

Mace’s eyes scanned the page. He pressed his foot into the gas pedal.

She looked down at the picture of the building with the weird, jagged roof line and wondered why it had caused such a severe reaction for Mace. “What? What did you see?”

“It’s on fire.”

“What are we supposed to learn in a burning building?” she demanded, close to panic. From a quarter of a mile down the
road they could see white, billowy clouds with dark-gray linings crowning the roof. Golden and red flames gave the center a campfire hue. Already the smell of smoke entered the car.

“Keep drawing,” Mace ordered as he pulled the car to a stop. “It may be our only way to discover what we’re doing here.”

Nikki’s hand moved anxiously across the page, shading, outlining. Suddenly a room took shape, now filled with smoke drawn by her own hand and flames that danced on the door and across the wall.

Mace snatched the paper, angled it left then right. “This way.” He dashed from the vehicle and Nikki rushed to catch up.

The front opening to the building bulged with an orange inferno that glowed sadistically inside the glass doors. “Wait,” Nikki said, pencil to paper again. She drew feverishly fast, still amazed by the ability to channel images. “There’s a window with no fire!”

Mace consulted the paper as he took her hand and ran to the side of the building. “This one.” He paused before a row of shrubs that fringed the window. She was getting ready to sketch another entry point as Mace stepped into the brush and slammed his elbow into the glass.

Nikki screamed.

He turned and took her by the shoulders. “Do
not
enter this building.” His eyes burned and the fire flashed in them, solidifying his words. “Do you hear me, Nikki? No matter what happens, promise me you won’t.”

“You need my help.” The smoke stung her eyes. She tried to blink away the searing sensation. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

His grip tightened on her upper arms, and his hands hardened to steel. “Promise me you’ll stay here. As for me, I’ll know when I find it.”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

With that, he disappeared inside.

Minutes ticked past.
I should have drawn faster. If I had, maybe he’d be out by now.
She paced, crunching blades of grass beneath her feet. When her hand began to ache, she looked down at it. She’d squeezed the pencil so hard it broke. Open palmed, she stared at the two pieces of cedar and graphite. A flash of movement came from the building, and she turned toward it with a sigh of relief.
Mace
.

“I’m not finished — there’s more.” He dropped a laptop into her hands. On reflex, she dumped the charred, blistering machine into the brush while Mace vanished into the orange glow.

Chewing her lip, she grabbed the paper and broken pencil. If she couldn’t get into the building, at least she could try to find out what was happening. As she sketched, a form took shape. When the pencil shaded the features of a face, she blanched. “Oh no. No.” Life and death decisions shouldn’t be made in haste, but there was no time to consider the pros and cons. Someone was in there lying on the floor. Someone was going to die if she couldn’t get them out. Climbing through the window, she coughed then sucked air that filled her lungs with more noxious fumes. Her cheeks felt on fire as she stumbled through the heated rubble inside, and for an instant she wondered if this was what hell was like. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she took tiny gasps until she’d entered the right office.

Sprawled on the floor behind the desk was the body she’d seen in the picture. She returned to the doorway and screamed for Mace, but only gravelly screeches emitted from her strained vocal chords. Grabbing a metal file drawer, she systematically banged it against the doorframe, hoping to draw Mace’s attention or rouse the person on the floor.

Above her a beam cracked then collapsed. She leapt into the room in time to avoid its fall. Amber sparks rose in a rush like sinister laughter.

Through the flames at the doorway, her hero appeared, his lean form framed by the firelight behind him. And for a devastating instant, she thought,
Dragon Slayer, fighting from inside the very belly of the beast.
He burst through the door and hurdled over the burning beam. Before she could protest, he scooped her into his arms.

“Wait,” she said in a scratchy whisper.

“I gotta get you out of here,” Mace said and began to move toward the exit.

“Over there.” She grabbed his chin and pointed to the desk.

His eyes widened and he carried her to the body then set her on her feet. “Can you walk?”

Her hands slid from his muscled arms, now thick and bulging with adrenaline. “Yes.”

Again, Mace used his elbow to bust the office window, and together they lifted the form in the white coat through the opening. The man’s jacket snagged on the spikes of glass that cut his flesh as well. Like a ragdoll, he flopped onto the ground, brush breaking much of his fall.