Voices surged from some of his former companions—celestial peers of his father’s with whom he used to pursue corruption, lechery, and other vile enterprises. Hearing their schemes again brought on shame and remorse, as well as twinges of excitement and temptation.
He did not want to stay in their thoughts. He flash-scanned the entire sector, but found no evidence that Satarel was even in the Corridor.
Before leaving, Horatius skimmed the thoughts and communications among the Pure. Angus MacKay was a topic of discussion. A group who were all Guardians of different Keith members spoke of MacKay and his slide from virtue and how no one offered prayers on his behalf, even at this crucial time in his life.
Horatius transferred into a Communication Mode.
Mebahel, I will intercede for him, Horatius thought. He needs help. I did not mean to hurt him. At least not so badly. I mean, I did not even know it was Angus.
“Hello, Horatius. So you nearly kill him, and now you want to save him?”
If I had been thinking, I never would have hurt him. He attacked me. It was a reflex. It is just— He realized he better stop making excuses. I am sorry. I failed. Again. In spite of everything, I beg that you help him. I did what I could, but his spirit is in great need. I want to make things right.
“You think you can make things right?” another Celestial named Jabamiah said.
I hope so. I am working to. Please help him.
One of the other Pure snorted.
“He may be sincere, Leviah,” Mebahel said.
“But is he is too corrupted to be virtuous?” Jabamiah said.
“No one is beyond hope,” Mebahel answered.
“He is Nephilim,” Laviah, the third Celestial, scoffed. “What hope can there even be for one of those? Nephilim were born out of evil, conceived in sin, corrupted from the earliest of times.”
“Perhaps he is different,” Mebahel said. “Perhaps we should test him.”
“He could not possibly succeed. Remember who he is, what he has done,” Leviah said.
Horatius cringed being reminded that they knew all about his every vice and wicked behavior.
“I am beginning to think this might be something to consider,” Jabamiah said.
“What if we give him a chance, Laviah? His offenses have decreased of late. Believe it or not.”
“Decreased?” Laviah screeched. “But from what? A serial killer refraining one week from taking another victim is still a murderer. A liar telling the truth once does not erase all his deceit. A pedophile offering a kind smile to a child—”
“Yes, yes, Laviah, we get your point,” Mebahel said. “But his mother was human. Perhaps They will allow him a second chance.”
“Second chance?” Horatius hated hearing Laviah yell so, and with such doubt and disdain. “There will be no second chance for one such as he!”
“I say we ask,” said Mebahel.
“Second chance?” said Jabamiah. “Yes, that would be in They’s nature to allow it.”
“Never. It will not happen.”
“Let us see. Horatius? We will consult They and return.”
The Chatter was cut off, muted to a silent hole, and Horatius sat in emptiness waiting. Almost immediately, the noise returned.
“They is in favor of giving you a chance. We are to allow you to show your sincerity.”
“We have an assignment for you,” Jabamiah said.
Horatius was all at once nervous. Not only had the Celestials spoken to They about him, but permission was obtained to move forward toward redemption. It was more than he ever could have wished for.
“You realized that if you fail,” Laviah said like he just knew he would fail, “you will probably be cast down. Forever.”
“Now, let us not condemn him to defeat before he even begins.”
Laviah grunted.
“As Jabamiah said, we have an assignment for you,” Mebahel said.
“Tell him what he gets,” Laviah said. His voice echoed amusement.
“Considering what your father is, and what you once were—a Watcher for the Keith clan—we have decided you will work against his purpose.”
Horatius didn’t really want to fight against his father, but if that would gain his redemption, he would finish what he’d started when he left the Brethren.
“We received prayers from a righteous vicar on behalf of a certain girl.”
Leviah jumped in before Mebahel could finish. “You will help us guard the girl you rescued from the cliff, Chloe Dixon of Denver.”
No, no. No no no no. That is not what I was thinking when you said I could do something. I am not made to be a Guardian. Leviah is right. I cannot do that. The last thing he wanted to do was guard that girl. He’d tried to be nice to her, even to take her to dinner. And she would have nothing to do with him. She was stubborn and selfish. She’d get him condemned to hell for certain. She’d push him past his limits. She’d make him do things he couldn’t undo. No. It couldn’t be.
“Be careful what you ask for,” Leviah said in a lilting voice.
“You will begin immediately.”
“I am usually her Guardian, but I am willing to allow you to watch over her for a time,” Jabamiah said. “She is young and beautiful, which will provide additional opportunity to prove your trustworthiness. And do not get her killed.”
Leviah chuckled.
“And Horatius,” Mebahel said, “be careful. Satarel will try to get you to reveal your location. The girl is going to be under attack. He will try to destroy you both.”
CHAPTER 12
Mrs. Henderson dropped Chloe at the airport barely in time to get inside before her dad’s plane taxied to the gate. Chloe was certain she had an arrhythmia the way her heart knocked around inside her rib cage while she waited for him to appear from the concourse.
When he did, Chloe jumped forward and ran to him, forgetting all the pressure churning inside. The sight of his familiar face dimmed her anxiety.
He one-arm hugged her and she at once came to her senses.
“Daddy,” Chloe sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so scared and alone.”
He didn’t speak. He seemed to be battling inside with what to say. Finally, he said, “Let’s go get your ticket taken care of. Then we will talk about this.”
Chloe knew better than to push him when he was so mad. She’d wait a little, see what he had to say, then figure out a way to explain what had really happened.
It took over an hour and a half to get her ticket problem fixed. With her passport, they were able to have a ticket reissued, but not before paying a lot more money and talking to four different people at three different counters.
Her dad’s patience was about as thin as a credit card by the time they got the tickets. He hadn’t yelled at anyone, but the restraint it took him not to showed in the vein bulging on his temple. In vivid purple.
“Do you want to go somewhere while we wait for the flight?” Chloe said while trying to contain her trepidation. “There’s a coffee shop and bookstore just a few blocks from here. My treat. I’ll pay you back if you want a coffee.”
He jerked his head like she’d tasered him. “We are not leaving the airport. You will not be missing another plane.”
Chloe didn’t argue. She sat down in the nearest chair, tucked her feet beneath her and tried to shrink to a size no one could see.
Her dad sat next to her. He stayed silent for a long time. Chloe was certain he was planning out his verbal attack.
It finally came.
“Just answer me one thing.”
He’s not going to ask me just one thing.
“What on earth were you thinking, taking a car that wasn’t yours to take, skipping out on the tour without permission—or even informing the chaperones, meeting up with some stranger from God-knows-where, not having the decency to even call home? Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”
Chloe couldn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead through the airp
ort window trying to keep control of the knot in her throat that was trying to jump out with a horrible sob. “I’m sorry,” was all she could squeak out without falling into complete and utter meltdown.
“Is that all you have to say, ‘you’re sorry’? Do you know what it cost to get a ticket last minute? And what about Todd? Did it ever cross your mind what this might do to you two? You’ll be lucky if he can get past this. I cannot fathom what has gotten into you. I don’t need this stress right now. You should know things are hard enough as they are.” His expression changed like a new idea came. “Is that what this is all about? Are you trying to get attention because of your mom and me? Don’t think some little scheme of yours is going to help, because it has sure done anything but help!”
She hoped he was through with his “just one thing” because she didn’t think she could take any more and not explode into tiny bits of misery all over the waiting area.
“Almost eighteen and you act like you think you’re an adult. Obviously you’re still such a little girl. Don’t even think for a minute you’re going to Brazil in a couple of weeks.”
“But Dad, I’ve been saving all year for that. And I won the scholarship. I can’t miss it. Kaitlyn and Jess—”
“Your savings is going to pay for this mess you’ve made. And your quartet didn’t even win. Shame on you. Do you think Brazil needs another mediocre quartet at its conference? You’re not going. Brazil is out.”
“But I have to go. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll pay you back.”
His laugh slapped her across the face. “You can’t make it up to me.” The cruelty in his voice serrated her. “You mystify me.” He jumped up from his seat and headed toward a Costa Coffee shop.
Shame on you.
He sat on a bar stool at the counter sipping a drink. After a while he dialed his phone. Maybe calling her mother to let her know he’d found their recalcitrant, incorrigible daughter. Or maybe he wasn’t even talking about her. He had a new life, new interests. He might be on the phone with someone she’d never even heard of or met.
You’ve only ever let him down, the voice said.
He laughed and took a sip of his drink. His shoulders relaxed and he listened and nodded, smiling frequently. Obviously he isn’t talking to Mom.
If only she could make him understand what she’d been through, what had really happened. How she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and how scared she was, and lost and alone. What she really needed was a hug and to be told it would be okay.
It won’t be okay, said the voice.
He came back after forty-five minutes. They sat in silence for another hour until they boarded their flight home.
He took the window seat and pulled down the shade. “I’m exhausted,” he said after clicking his seatbelt and turning the air vent on high. “I’m going to sleep.” He dry-swallowed two Dramamine, jammed in earplugs, and put on eye covers.
Chloe sighed a deep painful expulsion of breath. She’d survived the first phase. Well, she wasn’t visibly bleeding anywhere. These wounds aren’t the kind that show.
She adjusted the small, issued pillow beneath her head, tucked her elbows in close because her dad and the aisle passenger had the armrests, and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep.
***
The sky was darkening to twilight when they drove up to the curb in front of Nana’s postwar stone walkup. The old tree-lined street was quiet as usual on a Sunday evening.
When she and her dad finally walked through the front door, they were like two mute zombies. Benji seemed to be the only one glad to see her home—for all the fuss made about her not making it back the first time. Wearing his green dinosaur pajamas, he jumped into her arms and locked his hands around her neck until she had to tickle him off. He gave a similar greeting to their dad, who hugged him once before putting him down. Benji was oblivious to any tension and danced back to his pile of trucks by the fireplace.
Her mother noticed only her dad and greeted him with a nervous hello. She had on a short party dress, plenty of makeup, and her hair was sprayed stiff. She wore earrings, several bangles, and a necklace.
Chloe’s younger sister Michelle was watching TV with Nana, who sat in the recliner next to the couch crocheting a yarn hexagon. Michelle didn’t budge when they came in. Nana stopped her crochet hook and looked confused.
“I’ve grilled steaks,” her mom said. “And made your favorite twice-baked potatoes, Tony. With cheese.” She gestured to the dining room table where she had laid out Nana’s best tableware. “Will you stay and eat?”
“I have to go,” Chloe’s dad said. “We’ll talk more later, Chloe, once I get some sleep. Don’t think we’re done.”
“Hey Tony,” Michelle said to her dad sarcastically. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me or anything. I only have a cold.” It came out code. “It’s not like I’m going to die or anything. You can see me later. If you feel like it. If you get the time. If you care.” Her voice was coarse and pinched. She forced several deep coughs.
“Michelle!” her mom said.
“Give me a break, Michelle. I’ve had more crap these past two days and I don’t need any more from you.”
Michelle rolled her eyes and turned up her TV show.
“Language, Anthony,” Nana said. “Come on in and look at the television with us. There’s room for you here on the davenport.” With her spotted, crooked hand she patted the yarn hexagon doily covering the arm of the couch.
“Not tonight, Maureen,” Tony said. “Another time maybe.” And he left.
Her mom deflated. She threw a crocheted hot pad at the closed door and went back into the kitchen. She returned with an orange pill bottle and disappeared into her room. At least she forgot to yell at Chloe before she went to hide in her medicated oblivion.
“For all intensive purposes, he and Susan are going steady,” Nana said and turned her attention back to the purple and green hexagon on her crochet hook.
Michelle muted the TV. “Wow, you’ve sure made everybody crazy. Stealing a car? What were you thinking? You must have known Tony would kill you. I can’t believe he came all the way to get you. You must have died when Mom told you he was coming.”
“I didn’t steal a car,” Chloe said. “Hi, Nana.” She bent over and kissed her grandma on her tissue paper cheek.
“Oh!” Nana said. “Hello, dear. Turn it up. I can’t hear it. Do you want to look at the television with us?” She kept her eyes on her crocheting.
“Not now. Has Todd called?” she asked Michelle.
“Nope.” Dope. Michelle turned back to her show and un-muted it. “I hear he dumped you. You must have pissed him off good this time. I always figured something like this would happen. Don’t you remember I said this would happen?”
She was infuriating. A fifteen-year-old would never understand what Chloe was going through.
Chloe went upstairs to her room and dialed Todd. Four rings. Voicemail.
“Hi, it’s me. Um, I just got home. Thought you’d want to know. When can we get together? We should talk. Straighten things out. Give me a call. Anytime is fine. I’ll be here. So, yeah, call me. Okay. Bye.”
She left her phone on full volume and set it next to the clock on her bedside table. And she sank into her bed like it could protect her from reality.
***
The light from the window penetrated Chloe’s eyelids and stole her escape into sleep. With some help from Michelle.
“Chloe, wake up. You have to go to work. Remember?” Michelle pulled her covers down.
Chloe moaned and tried to crawl back under the crocheted coverlet, but Michelle pulled it back off.
“Come on. You already slept in. Mom is taking Nana to Hobby Lobby for more yarn and Benji to daycare. We have chores and I don’t want to do them alone. Besides, I’m sick.”
“I’ll help later. Go away,” Chloe said. She lay like a board and wouldn’t open her eyes.
“No way. I’ve been doing everything since you left. Ge
t up and quit making my life so terrible.” Michelle pulled away her pillow.
Chloe rolled over. “Fine. I’m up. Leave me alone.”
“I’ll give you five minutes. Then I’m dumping a glass of cold water on you.” Michelle left, but flipped on a talk radio station at full blast on her way out.
Chloe reached out and groped for her phone. It was one o’clock. She had to be to work by three. More importantly, she needed to see if Todd had called.
He hadn’t.
After a shower and lots of conditioner to get her hair untangled, she stumbled into the kitchen to find something to eat. Michelle was sitting at the table reading People and eating SunChips from the bag.
“Unload the dishwasher,” Michelle said without looking up from the magazine. “And Todd called.”
“What?” She rechecked her cell.
“Land line.” She pointed at the wall, her eyes still on her reading. “The dishwasher.” She pointed at the washer.
“What did he say? Why didn’t you wake me up?” Chloe dashed to the phone and put it to her ear. “Did he leave a message?”
“Man, did he.”
Chloe snatched the magazine off the table.
“Hey!” Michelle said.
“This is important. What did his message say?” She was already punching the code in to retrieve the recording.
“It wasn’t good. I talked to him. He gave me the message.”
“What?” She hung the phone back up slowly.
“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell your sister to stop calling me. I meant what I said. And I want my Apocalyptica CD back.’ It was not a nice call.”
Chloe dropped into a chair. Or onto the floor. She wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter.
It’s over. Everything’s over.
The voice was stronger than ever.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Michelle jumped up and grabbed for Chloe as she sank to the floor. “Wow, you better take a deep breath. You look awful. Breathe. Come on.”
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