by Carla Thorne
I turned to him. “How do you bust down doors and heal people with your hands?”
“OK, I get it. Can we go in now?”
I pushed Mary’s door open with a light tap. She sat up, but barely opened her eyes as she spoke. “I’m glad you all are here.”
I rushed to her side. “Of course we’re here. We came as soon as they’d let us.” I tried to get close to her. “Umm… How can I hug you?”
She smiled. A little. “Here.” She raised her arms and we all took turns.
And I wish I could say we were calm and strong… We weren’t.
We all ugly-cried for a minute as we pulled chairs as close as we could. The guys tried to be cool about it, but everyone passed around the box of scratchy tissues before we could stop.
Mary just sat there and stared ahead. Her eyes looked so different. I thought maybe it was the light sneaking in from the partially-open blinds that played tricks on my mind. Or maybe it was the way a bandage covered something on her forehead and blocked the light and my view. I glanced at Deacon and Scout and we exchanged odd looks.
Before I could ask, she jerked and scratched one arm and then the other.
“Can I get you something?” I asked.
“No. It’s the stupid pain medication. The itching is driving me crazy. I told them I didn’t want anymore.”
Deacon leaned forward. “How are you sitting up straight with a broken pelvis?”
“They made me move a lot this morning when they got me cleaned up. Later this afternoon I have my first full evaluation with the physical therapist. The break didn’t require surgery, so it sounds like I’m supposed to be able to use crutches or a walker or something until it heals. I don’t know.”
Scout nodded. “And the internal injuries?”
“More CT scans and ultrasounds tomorrow to check on everything.”
She rearranged her IV tube and used the bedrail to pull herself into a slightly different position. She seemed agitated.
I tried to take her hand. “Mary, what can we do?”
“No one can do anything, Ivy. Jacob is dead and it’s my fault.”
“No, no, no. Gavin is the one who knocked you off the side of that slope.”
“And that happened because I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I made it about me, and Jacob is dead.”
“It was about you, Mary,” Scout said. “You weren’t supposed to die. It wasn’t your time.”
“It wasn’t Jacob’s either, but he’s as dead as he’ll ever be.” A sharp gasp left her mouth. She had a white-knuckle grip on the rail.
Deacon tried to peel her fingers away and comfort her. “Take it easy.”
She jerked her hand away. “I cannot take it easy. Don’t you understand what happened? The Creator had a plan for all our safety. I got in the way.”
“Gavin got in the way. The Destroyer did this.”
“Everyone has a choice, Deacon. My choice killed Jacob.”
“You did not deliberately choose for Jacob to get hurt.”
“I might as well have.”
“Stop.” Scout left his chair and watched the monitor as if he understood all its information. “Breathe,” he said and touched her back.
My heart fluttered at both the intense sadness and comfort in his gesture.
Tears welled in Mary’s very different eyes and splashed on her chest.
“Tell me about Sebastian,” he said. “Didn’t he show up? He promised he’d show up.”
Mary let out a long, uncomfortable-looking breath. “He came too late.”
“Were you conscious? Were you able to talk?”
“He was there after Jacob died. He claimed there was nothing he could do at that time.”
“I don’t understand,” Scout said. “We had no idea what was about to happen. No warning like we got for the fire.”
“I told you,” Mary said. “The Creator had a plan for our safety. I messed it up.” She gasped again. “I fought with Sebastian in the aftermath. I screamed at him and demanded he bring Jacob back. I asked him why he didn’t warn us. He said there was no reason to warn us because everything was under control. Everyone was there to do their part. It was me who busted up the plan. I didn’t listen to Char and Jacob.”
“Wait,” Scout said. “Sebastian said it was you who did something wrong?”
“No, but it’s the truth.”
“I get what you’re saying,” Deacon said. “But if the Creator is our good force and the Destroyer is the bad force, Jacob’s death could still be an accident, right? The dark side was after you. It didn’t get you. Char said Gavin charged the three of you on the mountain. He made choices too. Gavin is the one who pushed Jacob over the side.”
“But no one can prove it,” I said.
“You’re splitting hairs,” Mary said. “The whole thing ended the way it did because Gavin is an Agent for the Destroyer. He was going to kill someone that day. If it wasn’t me, he did the only thing that would hurt me worse. He took Jacob from me.”
Scout shuffled back to his chair. “Can we give this a rest a minute? We’re giving our enemy way too much credit. You’re still alive, Mary. You’re going to fight again as a Warrior. Gavin will not get by with this.”
Mary got super quiet.
“OK, I’m just going to get this out there,” I said after a few long moments. “Mary, have you seen your eyes? What’s going on there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Your parents haven’t talked about this?”
“What?”
I carefully sat on the edge of the bed and studied her face. “Mary. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve had green eyes. Like really pretty little emeralds.”
“And?”
“Now you have a green eye. Like one eye is green. Your parents really haven’t talked to you about this change?”
Deacon got closer. “And you haven’t seen yourself in the mirror?”
“No, Deac, I can’t walk. There are tubes everywhere—and I mean everywhere—and I haven’t been allowed out of the bed. I brushed my teeth this morning and spit in a plastic cup…” She paused and took a breath. “Wait a minute. I do remember hearing people talk, and my mom was kinda protective of her compact this morning.” She smacked the bed. “I need a mirror.”
I pulled a vintage lipstick holder out of my bag and flipped up the little rectangular mirror.
She paled. She blinked. She tried to speak, and nothing came out.
Deacon looked to Scout. “Dude. Does she need a doctor?”
“No, she’s just taking it in.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Where did my other green eye go? Why is it blue? And it’s like really blue. Not even blue-green. It’s like Jacob’s dark, crystal-blue color. Like the sky met a blueberry.” She dropped the mirror. “Look this up, Scout. What happened to me?”
“I can look, but I don’t know. Heterochromia—two different colored eyes—usually doesn’t happen when you’re almost grown or later in life. It’s something you’re born with.”
“That’s what the talk was about,” she said. “My parents were asking if something was wrong. Everyone thought it was just the way I was. I remember my parents asking someone… They didn’t want me to see this yet. They were worried about how I’d react.”
“But they didn’t tell us not to say anything,” Deacon said. “We didn’t even see them when they left with my mom and Scout’s grandma.”
Scout scrolled through his phone. “I don’t know. There’s no immediate discussion coming up about it. I don’t think it’s a medical trauma thing.”
“What else would it be?”
Ivy moved her bag. “What exactly happened up there when you met Sebastian? If it’s not medical, maybe it’s supernatural.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You’re already part angel, Mary, remember? It doesn’t show. At least it didn’t show.”
“But why this eye color like Jac
ob’s? To torture me? To punish me? Why not orange hair or an extra toe or a brown eye or something?”
“In time it may comfort you,” Scout offered. “And she’s right. You were fighting for your life again. Jacob and Char’s too. Do you recall if it was like before when you were little? Was Shanar there?”
“Shanar didn’t even bother to show up. The damage was already done. Sebastian came to comfort me. I fought with him.”
Deacon grimaced. “You fought with your own guardian angel?” Then he realized how that sounded. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know what I’m saying. You have enough on your mind.”
Mary dropped her head into her hands. “I did fight with my own guardian angel. I was so angry. He said he couldn’t bring Jacob back. I lost my mind.” She looked up again. “I was so out of control I think he had to leave me. I chased him away when I needed him most. Not only that, I tried to take power from him so I could help Jacob.”
Nobody knew what to do with that confession.
Scout finally shrugged. “Well, you are a Warrior. You have supernatural gifts. I imagine that power under such distress and duress would cause you to lose control. You don’t know what all you’re capable of.”
“I wasn’t capable of saving Jacob.”
“Oh Mary.” I tried to hold her. “We’re still only human—even when we’re working with supernatural forces.”
“Powers, forces, abilities, gifts…supernatural. I’m so sick of all those words. I didn’t ask for this, and now Jacob’s dead because of it.”
“No,” Deacon said. “Jacob is dead because the Destroyer is evil.”
“What’s the difference? He’s still gone. And the word supernatural doesn’t ease the pain. It’s not the fairytale word it sounds like. Death is death. Final is final. There’s nothing glorifying in an untimely death. There’s no comfort in it. Do you think his title of Protector for the Creator does his parents any good now? They don’t even know, and they never will because he wasn’t brought up to serve a Creator. He was introduced to the Creator’s world through adversity—just like us. He survived and earned the job and died because of it.”
Scout studied the monitor again. “Breathe.” He scooted his chair closer. “Listen, Mary, I totally hear you. We all hear you. But you can’t give up. You have important abilities, and yes, untimely deaths make no sense. Believe me, I know. You have to remember Jacob embraced his role as Protector and he fulfilled his purpose, even though he didn’t last on this earth. You have to heal and grieve. And then you have to fight for all the others who are going to need you.”
Her brilliant blue and green eyes glittered with tears. “I’m going to fight, all right. I’m going to do everything I was called to do in honor of Jacob. I refuse to allow his death to be associated with failure.”
Scout nodded. “Right. That’s good. And we’ll be right there with you.”
“But first.” She caught her breath on an obvious stab of pain.
I offered her a sip of water from the stand by the bed. “But first?”
“First I’m going to kill Gavin.”
Chapter 47
Ivy
Scout picked up my bag and put it in the back of the SUV.
I hated to see his shoulders slumped beneath the heavy pain of reliving his own grief journey as he took on the pain of losing Jacob—and the pain of everyone else feeling the loss.
“C’mon.” I took his hand. “Let’s get one more look before we go.”
“What’s there to look at? We’re in a hotel parking lot.”
“I know, but this is Colorado in the winter time. Between the mountains and the snow, you can always find a beautiful view somewhere.”
I led him to the closed, snow-covered patio off the restaurant’s side entrance. “See? Mountains and snow.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful, but I don’t know if I can ever take another ski trip.”
I shook my head. “Me either, but I want you to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“As bad as this is, I’m choosing to not let the worst of it overshadow the best of it.”
“What was the best of it?”
I snuggled closer to him. “You and me on the skating rink in the snow…kissing and holding hands. I’m tucking that away in a memory snow globe to keep to myself. When I think of Jacob and this horrible tragedy, I’m also going to think of our special time together here. And I’m going to remind myself this is not our last memory together. We’ll make more.”
He turned to look at me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me there is something good here.”
“There’s always going to be something good when you and I stick together, Scout. I’m here for you.”
“And I’m here for you.”
“All right you two, get in the car.” Deacon stomped around in the fresh snow on the deck. “And by the way, I’m here for you,” he taunted. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Good to know,” Scout said.
Deacon slowed as he kicked slush across the lot. “I don’t want to leave Mary behind.”
“I know,” I said. “Feels like we’re going home without all our stuff or something. I don’t want us alone in Texas facing all the questions and the memorial or whatever, and I don’t want her here without us.”
Scout opened the door for me. “The longer she stays away, the harder it’s going to be to face everything at home.”
I knew that was true, and everything about her that seemed so normal was outweighed by the burden of her grief, her strange new eye color, her pain level, and her staggering comment about Gavin.
I blamed the meds and hoped the best for her.
“And what are we supposed to do about Gavin?” I asked. “We’re bound to see him. We have to go back to school.”
Deacon’s clenched teeth caused his jaw to tighten before my eyes. “If he has any decency at all, he won’t come back to school.”
“He’s too arrogant to go somewhere else,” Scout said. “Besides, we’re the only ones who really believe he killed Jacob. Everyone else seems ready to let that go.”
“There isn’t enough evidence to make it stick.” Deacon tossed me my blanket. “We need sleep. Maybe we can just sleep on the road and deal with it all when we’re home and rested.”
But five hours later, after a pit stop and a couple of hours of sleep, I was jarred into another dip in the roller coaster that had become our trip.
Scout’s grandma and Deacon’s mom carried on a rapid-fire discussion as Scout and Deacon studied their phones.
Scout shook me awake and pulled my phone out of the seatback pocket. “Here. Find one of the local Houston news stations. We’re looking for a live feed.”
“A live feed of what?”
“Stonehaven Academy has gone up in flames.”
I said my thank-yous to Scout’s grandma in front of my apartment building and hooked my backpack over my shoulder.
Scout picked up my bag. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“No,” I said. “It’s late. I texted my mom. She’s watching for me, and I’m fine behind the gate and with all the lights. We’ve been over this.”
“Which is exactly why you know I’m going to walk you to your door. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“The good kind.”
A door opened along the path. “Ivy! I didn’t know you were coming home tonight.”
“Hey, Mrs. Terrell.”
Her dog, Tootsie, pulled her forward on the patio. “Umm… Do you think…?”
I took the dog’s leash. “Sure. We’ll take a little walk to my apartment and unload, then I’ll bring her back after she’s visited the tree.”
“You’re such a dear.”
Scout rolled his eyes. “Really?”
“I have clients now, Scout. They’ve missed me.” The tubby sheltie pulled me along. “You should go. Your grandma is tired too. It’s been a long drive, and Tootsi
e here has an attitude like you wouldn’t believe. She growled at an extra-large magnolia blossom once. She’s not going to let anyone bother me. Really. I have protection. Get your grandma home.”
He glanced at my apartment door two stories up and then at the well-lit area where other late-night walkers let their pets take care of business. “All right, but I’m going to run your bags up.”
“Deal.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “Get that dog to its tree and get some rest.”
“I will.”
“Text me when you get in.”
“I will. Now go, and tomorrow we’ll go by the school and see what we can find out.”
“Are you sure—?”
“Me and Tootsie are walking away now.”
I headed for the patch of grass as he ran upstairs with my bags and then came down and walked backward away from the building to keep an eye on me. It was the only thing that had truly made me smile for days.
He waved and almost tripped.
“C’mon, Tootsie. Get the job done.”
I walked her back to Mrs. Terrell’s patio and knocked on the glass doors.
“Thanks, sweetie. Put it on my tab.”
“This one’s on me,” I said. “She was fast and it wasn’t a real walk.”
I dragged my tired self up the first flight of stairs and paused at the top when I heard something behind me. The hard steel rail and concrete steps didn’t typically budge, so what was all the sound?
In the middle of the second set, someone spoke.
“Ivy, wait.”
I didn’t recognize the male voice.
I grabbed my phone and prepared to bolt.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to talk.”
I took the next steps two at a time on shaky legs and tried to put distance between us.
A light flashed behind me. “Please stop and listen, Ivy Lynette Van Camp. I won’t come any closer. Just stop and listen. Here. I’ll put the light on my face, and I’m stepping backward.”
No one knew my middle name. No one. My mother didn’t ever mention it. She called me Ivy L and said we could have it changed to just an initial if I wanted.
Why would she offer that?
