The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian

by Carey Corp

  Struggling to sit up, the sounds of bedlam return, assaulting my ears with a mighty roar. Kids and teachers pour from the building. Their shouts of fear and shock echo all around me. Mr. Abernathy—the man—lives. Abandoned by his demon, the slack-jawed shell of the teacher lies in an oil slick. The demon’s long gone, probably seeking another host.

  Jonah’s huddled on the ground against a car tire, far away from the gun. One eye is already swollen shut and his right elbow protrudes at an odd angle. Wide-eyed with shock, he babbles an apology, “I’m so sorry Alex. It just went off. I never intended to shoot. I swear!”

  I start to tell him that everything’s all right—that I’m not hit—then I feel the slick, warm pool gathering beneath me. Blood.

  Derry’s hands pull futilely at my shoulders, trying to get me back on my feet, but I’m still tangled up with Gabriel. Although we’re intertwined, Gabriel’s reassuring hand is nowhere on my body.

  The blood is slippery as I struggle to disentangle myself from my boyfriend. The whole time he remains motionless, face down on the pavement. For a moment I freeze—unable to continue—and then I feel Derry scrambling next to me, prompting me to reach forward with violently trembling hands. He stretches across me, and together we carefully turn Gabriel over.

  On Gabriel’s chest, a trickle of scarlet gushes in slow motion. There’s a poetry in the way it flows, making it seem not real, a fiction. Numbly I watch, as if from a great distance, as the deadly fountain grows.

  Then Gabriel shudders. I hear his breath bubble up from the ragged hole over his heart. The world speeds up as I slam back into the noisy, swirling chaos around me. Gabriel is shot—not me. Him! Not me!

  “Oh my God!” I drag his upper body onto my lap, holding him as best I can. “How bad is it?”

  His heavenly eyes flutter open and the finality in his gaze is my answer.

  “Get an ambulance! Please!”

  Weakly gripping my hand, he gives me a nearly imperceptible shake of his hand. “Too late—”

  “You’re not going to die!”

  “I can’t die remember.” His laugh is barely a whisper.

  “You’re supposed to protect me!”

  “I’ve done what I was meant to do. I’m sorry to leave you.”

  Leaning close, I cradle his head to my chest, my fingers clawing into his hair, as I will him to live. “But you haven’t done anything yet.”

  “The purpose I was sent for—was this.”

  “To die in front of my eyes?”

  “To take your place, so you could live.”

  “You were sent to die for me?” Hysteria, high and biting distorts my voice. I’m desperate to staunch the flow of blood, as his life gushes through my fingers. Although he can’t die, the outcome is the same—permanent separation—the end. “You can’t go. I need you!”

  “You have to—let—me go, Alexia.”

  “No!” Terrible comprehension spears my heart. I remember his explanation, his gift—the assignment only he can fulfill. “You’ve known all along that you were going to die?”

  “It’s what I was sent to do. It’s my gift.”

  “No!” Stubbornly, I shake my head. “I love you!”

  Then Derry’s next to me, his hand around my shoulders.

  “Derrick.” Gabriel beckons and Derry leans down, bending his ear to my angel’s mouth. Although straining, I can’t hear what passes between them. Tears roll down Derry’s face as he says, “I will, Gabriel.”

  “Promise!”

  “I promise!”

  Gabriel’s eyes shift to mine. “Alexia.” His summons is nearly soundless, but I recognize the shape of my name on his lips. Slumping forward to take Derry’s place, a sob hitches in my throat as he whispers my name again, like a prayer of redemption. “Alexia, you must—embrace your life—your purpose. Find your destiny. Embrace it.”

  “How?” On my lips is my need to beg him to live. For me.

  “Your gift—your halo—is the answer.”

  “Don’t leave me!” I try to summon power, but nothing comes. I’m empty and helpless to do anything other than watch him die.

  His luminous eyes blaze with conviction as he gasps, “Promise me!”

  I open my mouth but all that comes out is a raw, wrenching sound of grief.

  “Please—” His voice is weaker.

  Between the heaving sobs that tear at my body, I manage to say the words. “I promise. I promise!”

  “I—love—you . I will—always—” A spasm cuts through his voice. “love…”

  It’s not like in the movies, a gradual dimming as someone fades away. Gabriel grows brighter and brighter. Blindingly brilliant until my eyes close of their own volition. And then… nothing.

  The abandoned shell of his mortal body is peaceful, the light absent from his celestial eyes as I permanently close his lids, covering them with anguished kisses. He looks heartbreakingly beautiful, an angel in repose. But I can’t wake him with my kiss—he’s gone.

  CHAPTER 18

  Gabriel is gone. Although he’s not dead, there’s permanence to his departure. Sometimes gone and dead are the same.

  Without my anchor, I’m freefalling back toward the ground, plummeting toward my inevitable destiny. The fall seems to last forever as seconds, minutes, and hours run together in a blur of numbed consciousness. Adrift in my isolation, I’m no longer Alex, yet unable to be Alexia. I am nothingness.

  At some point, Kate helps me dress. She brushes my hair while I stare into the abyss. Running my fingers down the filmy fabric of my perfect black dress, I can’t help but ask, “Did you know? When you urged me to get this dress, did you foresee today?”

  “No, Alex.” Gently pulling my hair back from my face into a loose style, unchecked tears roll down her cheeks. “I would have done anything humanly possible to spare you this pain.”

  “I know.” And while she weeps, I can’t shed a single tear. Since Derry separated me from Gabriel’s lifeless body, I’ve been unable to feel. No grief or devastation, just empty.

  In the cemetery, Gabriel’s assigned family stands dutifully by the graveside, isolated by their pain as they quietly accept condolences. Their tears are genuine. They weep for Gabriel’s sixteen-year-old mortal form. It’s their gift. Their brilliant halos burn my abused eyes and I don’t approach them. Instinctively, I know they’ll soon disappear amidst rumors their sorrow has driven them to relocate.

  Numb to the emotions flowing around me, I stand alone. Nothing touches me. As the mourners disperse, Nana Kransky comes forward, leaning heavily on Derry’s arm.

  “Lexi?” Derry’s voice is unnaturally musical, as if addressing a traumatized child. “Nana wants a moment with you.” They’ve taken an instant liking to one another. He doesn’t have any of my hang-ups that would cause him to call her “ma’am” and keep her at a distance. While I continue to stand on the outside, my best friend and the old woman are already family.

  Nana Kransky pats his shoulder. “Thank you, Derrick. Why don’t you check on Kate and Steven?” When he dutifully walks away, she gives me a knowing look that lifts her arched brows. “It is hard to let one’s guardian go—but they are not ours to keep in this world.”

  Her words settle heavily in my brain as I struggle through my fog for comprehension. “You know?”

  “From the moment I saw him. So bright. He reminded me of Mikhail, the Seraph who saved my life when I was more girl than woman. But that is a story for another day. There is a purpose to everything that is happening, even if you can’t see it now.” As gently and carefully as possible, she embraces me. “Time will heal your pain, Alexia. And when it does I will be waiting to help you as best I can.”

  Nodding, I remain silent until she walks away. I know I should have questions, but it hurts my brain to form them. Thinking is too hard.

  *

  Two funerals in as many days. Jonah’s too busted up to go to Becke’s memorial, four broken ribs and a shattered humerus in his arm. He’ll
have to stand trial for having the shooting, even though the gun came from Mr. Creepy’s glove box. Mr. Dunning thinks he can get him off because of emotional duress, but it doesn’t seem just. It’s not what Becke and Gabriel would want. Jonah’s suffered enough.

  Everyone knows about Mr. Creepy—what he did—not only to Becke, but to Kendra as well. They call him sick, mentally ill, crazy. But I am the only one left who remembers his true form. Remembers the demon that’s out there somewhere, feeding off a new host.

  That night, after hanging my perfect black dress back in the closet for good, I fall into an exhaustion-induced sleep. In my dream, the funerals happen simultaneously—just a stone’s throw apart. And Jonah’s healed enough to attend.

  Gabriel and Becke are there. Their halos are blinding as they weave among the tightly knit clusters of their mourners, whispering words of encouragement. As the services conclude, they drift away from their friends and family to find each other in the middle of the hallowed ground. Hand in hand, they walk away from their loved ones and toward the beckoning light of the horizon. They are at peace. I watch their retreat until they vanish into the glow of the setting sun.

  I wake from the dream into the darkness—momentarily disoriented—before the grief rushes in. Battering me with the force of a hurricane, it tears a ragged sob from my throat.

  “Lexi.”

  Derry’s voice.

  In the dark, I can barely make out his lean form, sitting quietly in the corner of my room. Forcing myself to speak—it’s an unwelcome effort—I ask, “What’re you doing here?”

  “Watching over you.” His reply is achingly gentle.

  “Oh.”

  “And I won’t go away, so don’t ask. I’m not leaving you.”

  You should, I think. If you stay, I’ll destroy your life just like Gabriel’s.

  As if reading my mind, he says softly, “It’s not your fault.”

  His words, my sorrow, the crushing pain of Gabriel ripped from my life crash over me. Grief roars, flexing its claws and gnashing its sharp teeth. Turning away from Derry, I give myself over to the beast, letting it devour my bones just like the demon from my nightmares. Whoever I am—Alex, Alexia, or other—ceases to be. All that remains is wretchedness. Something broken and useless.

  Through my sobbing, I feel the bed shift, sag slightly, and then Derry curls around me, and gathers me into the constancy of his embrace. His grip is tight, and I think I’ll shatter irrevocably into a million pieces, if not for him holding me together. I pray for him not to let me go.

  As I fade into a weary sleep, I hear Derry’s warm whisper against my neck, as he promises, “This too will pass… I’ve seen it.”

  *

  For the last few weeks of school, I let Kate drive me. I can’t bear to walk those seven long blocks. But in time I’ll walk them again.

  Gabriel knew—did his best to prepare me for the day he would leave. He helped me to accept I have a gift and a destiny to fulfill. And I will continue on…for his sake…for the Fosters and for Derry, who never leaves my side.

  But not today.

  Part of me still wants to run away, flee the dark. But that’s no longer who I am. Now I’ve got a family and a destiny. And most of all I have a promise to the boy I love.

  Although crushed, I’m still stronger than Alex ever was. Inside of me, a power is growing. Sharpening. I will discover the person I’m meant to be, and I will embrace her. I owe Gabriel that much.

  I owe him everything.

  The time is coming—soon I will keep my promise. I will discover my destiny. Then, I have a score to settle. And someone—or something—will pay.

  ###

  My Dear Reader,

  If you are in crisis or are considering hurting yourself or others, please know you are not alone. And PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE get help!

  Girls & Boys Town National Hotline: 1-800-448-3000

  Youthline 1-877-YOUTHLINE (1-877-968-8454)

  National Youth Crisis Hotline: 800-442-HOPE (4673)

  The National Domestic Violence Hotline 1.800.799.SAFE (7233)

  Crisis Intervention/Suicide Hotline: 800-448-3000

  I look forward to meeting you the next time I’m in your area!

  Carey

  Indie Authors depend on the three R’s from readers: Rate, Review, Recommend.

  If you enjoyed this book, please let others know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Acknowledgements

  I could not have done this without my amazing author village. Thank you to all the wonderful support from RWA, OVRWA, YARWA, SCBWI. Even when I went rogue you rooted for me. I thank God for you every day.

  My undying gratitude to my family for enabling me to pursue my dream. Michelle, Tori, Jessie, Mary, Mom, Dad, Gram, Shey, Jani, Josie, Harrison, Athena and above all else Aaron, I love you guys!

  To Lorie Langdon, my first crit partner, constant spiritual support and the best cowriter in the universe—I’m still amazed you don’t throat punch me after some of our revision sessions. Thank you seems inadequate.

  Thanks to my AMAZING crit partners for their hours and hours of labor on this project: Jenn Stark (McGowan), Kristi Cook, and Melissa Landers. I am so proud of your accomplishments!

  My MargaRITAs: Vanessa Barneveld, Shea Berkley, Shelley Coriell, Kim MacCarron, Jen McAndrews, and Erica O’Rourke. I couldn’t ask for better “go to” girls and I thank God for bringing us together. I can’t wait until we can all say “I knew her when.”

  Another HUGE thanks to Kim for the editorial work!!!

  A very special thank you to Meredith Briski: friend, reader and mentor in all things YA and Linda Keller, the wisest woman in the business.

  Thanks to Brianna Ahearn, Heather Howland, Amanda Brice and so many others in the industry who supported this project and shared their knowledge so generously; to all my hometown Vacaville, CA support. You guys rock!; my super supportive P&Gers: Margaret Szemprech, Carol Wade, Debbie Burress, Beth George, Lorie Jones and Jacque Heisey.

  An extra special thanks to all the women of OVRWA for becoming my family, but especially Liz Bemis (webmistress divine), Becke Martin, Tonya Kappes, Renee Vincent, Gabriella Edwards, Rosie Murphy, Sienna Condy, Margaret Crowley, Jennette Heikes, Keri Stevens, Donna MacMeans, Gia Dawn, Jen Sokoloski, Christina Wolfer, Mary Ulrich and the heart of our organization, Daphne Wedig.

  Thank you to Lori Foster and Dianne Castell for being friends, pillars of my local writers group and examples of everything a successful author can be. Also for their labor of love, the annual Reader/Writer Get Together—a not to miss annual event.

  Last, but certainly not least, my wildly enthusiastic readers: Ashley Klaserner, Malin Coughlan, Jennifer Heisey and Zoe Jordan. Thanks for being my guinea pigs. And for telling me I don’t suck.;)

  And the Fray, whose song “Happiness” is an inspiration for this project.

  About the Author

  Originally from California, I currently reside four miles from downtown Cincinnati with three badly behaved pets, two delightfully challenging children, and one incredibly supportive soul mate. Since high school, I have bummed around Europe, learned Italian, found a job that I love, and written three novels for teens.

  Things that haven’t changed since high school: my love of punk rock and Mohawks; infatuation with John Hughes films; feeling like I don’t fit in (unfortunately it doesn’t end with high school) and a love affair with Jane Austen.

  Things that have changed since high school: love of rollercoasters (not so fun when you get old); having free time; finally knowing what fulfills me as an individual; not caring so much that I don’t fit in.

  Find me online: http://www.careycorp.com; Facebook http://www.facebook.com/carey.corp; Twitter @careycorp; Blog http://www.careycorp.blogspot.com; and the Facebook The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian fan page.

  My next book, ECHOES OF NEVERLAND, a romantic, literary continuation of J.M. Barrie’s classic Peter Pan, will be available in August 2011. For more
information or to read an excerpt, go to www.careycorp.com