The patter of footsteps sounded behind me. “Joey!” Jules called out.
I spun around just as she rounded the corner from the hallway. “Munchkin,” I responded, a smile rushing to my face—she always had that effect on me.
“Do you want to play Monsters and Heroes?” she asked, her big, pleading eyes hopeful.
Monsters and Heroes? My smile widened. “What’s that?” I wondered, truly curious.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, a bit sheepish. “Chris said he’d teach me, though. I’m sure he’d show you too.”
I blinked. Chris? The Empyrean Guard Chris was going to teach five-year-old Jules how to play Monsters and Heroes? It instantly made me uneasy, and I thought that maybe I should supervise. I could only imagine the many scenarios this “game” would bring forth. Chris wasn’t exactly kid friendly.
Before I could respond, the media frenzy outside grew louder as people cheered. I peeked through the curtain just in time to see a guy winding up to pitch a brick through my front window. I backed up with a speed I didn’t know I had and placed my body between Jules and the window, holding her to me. Glass cracked and shattered when the brick crashed through. It thudded to the ground, scratching my wood floors. It missed me by mere inches.
My previous smile was wiped clean as I pulled Jules away from the fractured pane of glass.
Everyone rushed into the living room at the sound of breaking glass. Jenna looked between the window and me. I still held Jules protectively, just in case there was another attack. Jenna rushed forward and hugged us both, love and fierce protectiveness radiating from her.
“What happened?” she asked, voice high-pitched.
“That,” I growled, pointing at the brick lying amongst the shattered glass.
“You can’t live like this,” Gabby said, concerned.
“I know,” I replied, voice clipped with rage. What if I hadn’t been there when the brick came through my window? What if Jules had been hurt?
Andrew and Ehno approached the brick. Andrew picked it up and removed the folded paper attached to it.
“How cliché,” Gabby jested, trying to lighten the mood. “What’s it say?”
Andrew unfolded the paper and read over it. His expression hardened, and it fell from his hands. Before I could repeat Gabby’s question, the room grew uncomfortable, and my ears popped. The window’s glass exploded outward. The curtains were ripped to shreds and fluttered like undulating flags in the rush of wind. Those outside screamed in panic, and something about that noise satisfied me to no end.
Andrew floated into the air and through the shattered window. His skin glowed silver, and his wings sprang from his back, sparkling like diamonds, winking at me. The current of air from inside to out never waivered, and I weirdly wondered where it was coming from. ’Cause the angel floating wasn’t strange enough.
Those outside went incredibly still, waiting for Andrew to speak. Hell, even I was curious as to what he had to say. All cameras faced him.
“Are you so uncivilized as to risk an innocent child’s life?” he roared, his voice unnaturally deep and unassailable. “Are you so cowardly as to threaten us anonymously? You see a few photos and videos taken out of context and prepared in a negative light—is that all it takes to turn you into savages? Are you so quick to believe the worst in us? How have we wronged you?”
A silent second ticked by.
“Now let me ask you: How have you wronged us?” His tone sounded disappointed, which made the accusation ten times worse.
The audience stared awed and stunned and embarrassed by their actions.
“If you’re going to cast stones, aim for me this time,” Andrew continued, his anger mighty and terrifying. The brick in the living room rose and floated outside as if attached to invisible puppet strings. People parted as it leisurely passed them. It stopped in front of the one who threw it, though I had no idea how Andrew knew whom the culprit was.
“Go ahead,” Andrew demanded. “Here I am. Throw it!”
The audience glanced between them, and all remained silent, waiting. The blood drained from Brick Thrower’s face. I folded my arms, curious to see what this guy would do. After a full minute, he grabbed the brick out of the air. He seemed determined. Delighted, almost. Those who egged him on before backed away, shamed by their previous acceptance of his actions—as they should be.
Andrew didn’t move or speak as the guy held the brick like a football, pulling his hand back, ready to throw. Gabby’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t move, which I knew took a great deal of restraint. Those outside, however, backed up even further, as if the brick was diseased. A nasty smirk spread on the guy’s face seconds before he threw the brick. It slammed into Andrew’s chest with a muted thud, and he grunted. Gabby ran forward while everyone outside stared in horror. No one could believe the guy had actually thrown a brick at an angel. That was the first time I’d seen such blatant irony play out in front of me.
Gabriella turned toward the crowd, her hand held out to show it was covered in Andrew’s silver blood, and gave them a disgusted look that said everything and nothing at all. Gasps rang out, and a buzz of disbelief spread through the audience as they witnessed Andrew and Gabriella’s tender interactions.
Brick Thrower looked supremely pleased with himself. Well, so did I as soon as my eyes landed on the FBI agent making his way through the crowd. Seriously, I had to give it to Andrew and his mental link. He planned this stunt all along. The tall, bald man in a pristine black suit, who made a shadow over Brick Thrower’s smaller frame, was supposed to be in Italy. I couldn’t remember ever being this happy to see him. Agent Patrick Salantro. Indeed, the angel had style, and I had to appreciate the way he handled Brick Thrower. Watching Agent Salantro cuff the guy without giving him any warning was extremely rewarding. I grinned as all the news cameras captured his arrest, which would hopefully let the world know that violence, even toward angels, would not be tolerated.
Beside me, Jenna had Jules in her arms. She whispered something in Jules’s ear that made her giggle. Jenna kissed her cheek and set her down. Jules started toward the window, and I reached out to stop her.
“Let her go,” Jenna murmured, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
Outside, the news cameras turned back to us now that Brick Thrower had been shoved into the back of a cop car. Uneasy, I stepped forward to keep an eye on Jules. Though the majority of the glass blew outside, and she wore shoes, it still made me nervous. Plus, only moments before, the crowd had taken on a lynch mob mentality. Not exactly the best setting for a little girl to be in. Firen rushed forward, lifted Jules over the windowsill, and placed her gently on the ground next to Andrew and Gabby. It was as if Firen knew exactly what was going to happen. I tried to read her facial expression, but she appeared just as fierce and angry as ever. I glanced back at Jenna, who was fighting a smile.
What the hell?
I turned back in time to see Jules tug on Andrew’s shirt. He glanced down at her, and his expression changed the second he laid eyes on the five-year-old. I nearly snorted at the sight; he wore the same goofy grin I always did whenever Jules was involved. It was impossible not to; she was a special and sweet child and undoubtedly related to Jenna in every way.
“Yes?” Andrew asked. His grin transformed, making it goofier, if that was even possible.
Jules turned anxious, her fingers twisting together, and glanced at Jenna. She nodded for Jules to continue. Jules bit her lip and stared up at Andrew, who was amused now.
“Uncle Andy?”
It was a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything because I would have spewed everything out my nose and choked to death. Andrew’s eyebrows came together at the name, and I had to hold in the laughter that decided to rapidly bubble to the surface.
“That guy who threw the brick?”
He nodded, instantly turning uncomfortable. “What about him?”
Jules lips quivered, and I feared she was about to cry. Then she asked, “H
e bit off more than he could chew, didn’t he?” She made a motion as if she was biting into a tough piece of steak.
Gabriella’s lips sealed shut as she tried to hide her grin, though she failed at it when Andrew asked, “Was he eating?” He turned desperately to Gabriella, confused.
Jules wasn’t about to cry, she was trying not to laugh! She giggled then, the sound tinkling and odd in the outlandish setting.
Andrew straightened and shook his head at Gabriella. “Did you see him eat?”
Gabriella had a hand over her mouth, but there was no way she could hide her hysterical laughter. I had to turn away, I was laughing so hard. I had to give Jenna credit: even in this situation, she could make me laugh. And using Jules to do it? Genius!
CHAPTER 5: EXCUSE MY FRENCH
This was all Gabby’s fault, I’d decided as I put my phone on speaker, listening to the music as I held for Director Tom Morris. Ever since I’d met Gabby, my house had become a warzone. And no, that wasn’t meant metaphorically. Between Empyrean Guard attacks and now the media, my house had practically gotten the royal treatment in remodeling. Or, as my wallet liked to remind me, the hardware store had been living off my paychecks lately. My homeowner’s insurance told me they wouldn’t cover the damage first caused by Firen kicking Chris through my kitchen wall. A few days later, the fight between Chris and Q had destroyed my living room. That time my homeowner’s insurance company politely sent me a letter in the mail to inform me they would be dropping me as a client, which was ridiculous because they hadn’t paid out a dime for the damage.
This was why I had propped my feet on my coffee table as I watched Chris do manual labor. There was just something justified about it. Unsurprisingly, there was a pile of plank wood stacked in my backyard from previous mishaps, if they could even be called mishaps. Chris easily carried two large pieces of wood inside and shoved them against the broken window. The cold rush of air was cut off, and I finally felt like I could breathe again, as if the world outside wasn’t just enduring the winter months but was fighting off a vast emptiness of bone-chilling wind. Honestly, I was just happy the media couldn’t see inside my living room. Maybe I should board up all my windows and become a recluse, I darkly mused to myself. The idea seemed rather appealing, especially after my neighbor’s nosy tendencies.
Following the cuteness that was Jules, the media went wild, refusing to get off my lawn. Though I knew it would only agitate the crowd, I asked Firen to stay outside to keep people away from the house while Chris boarded up the window. She agreed, knowing this would cause more problems, but she also felt the same way I did. Safety first. When the crowd refused to back down, Firen had exploded in anger and used magic to fling trespassers into the street. It wasn’t like any of us had protested, but it made things all the worse, which was expected. I pictured having to install bulletproof glass and build a bomb shelter in the backyard to protect Jenna and Jules. Okay, that would be going a bit overboard, but with the way the media and protesters were acting, who could blame me?
Jenna was clearly upset that everything went downhill after Andrew had calmed the raging crowd. So much so that she locked herself and Jules in the bedroom. I couldn’t blame Jenna—my heart had grinded to a halt when that brick came through the window. To think of those outside egging each other on to act out because Firen was keeping them away made me nervous. Though I didn’t stop Firen, nor did I want her to stop. People were overstepping, and a huge hole in the side of my house made those outside think of it as open season, or in my mind, an eighties sitcom.
“Sorry for putting you on hold for so long,” Tom said. I jerked, forgetting I was on hold. I turned the speakerphone option off as I held the phone to my ear.
Firen came inside just then, looking flustered and infuriated. She didn’t say anything as she stalked past, and I rose to my feet. For some reason I had the urge to pace. My house felt unsafe and unwelcoming, like aliens had taken up residence and constantly threatened me with cattle prods.
“Agent?” Tom queried.
I sighed into the phone, close to my breaking point. “If you don’t do something about the reporters and protestors, I’m going to do something you don’t want the news to see,” I threatened.
Normally, this was not something I would ever say to my boss, but I had a legit excuse. I had reasons for being stressed and upset. If anything, the Director should be offering me a trip to the Bahamas, all expenses on him.
The Director cleared his throat; I’d most certainly taken him off guard. For a moment I thought he was going to chew me out, but after a steadying breath, he laughed. It wasn’t a funny laugh, or a “that’s so weird it’s my only response” laugh. He was furious, and the laughter was his way of releasing steam.
“Help me out,” I pleaded. “You’ve left me alone to deal with this situation, and now we’re dealing with the consequences.”
I swore I heard Tom growl. I actually pulled the phone from my ear to stare at it to make sure it hadn’t turned into a tiny lion. “You should have been more careful,” he accused.
I gripped the phone more firmly. “No one has used the front door since we came back from Avella. Lucia’s been our own personal subway system, using her portals.” I was wearing a hole in my floors with all the pacing. Any second smoke would rise from my feet. “We were discrete.”
The only person left in the living room was Andrew, and he watched me as I turned for another round of chasing my tail.
“I’m not talking about that,” the Director shouted. I pulled the phone away from my ear. “I’m talking about that angel with all the silver markings using magic while the media films. You’re asking for trouble.”
I gritted my teeth. “Asking for trouble?” I snapped. “What are the police doing? The FBI? What about protecting us?”
He scoffed. “It seems you don’t need any help from us—just send your pet angel out to take care of the problem.”
While Tom was all cozied up in his FBI penthouse office, I was stuck at ground zero. For the first time ever, I wanted to clock Tom. I wanted to punch him right in his stupid nose.
“She’s a Fallen Angel, and I asked her to help keep people away after some asshole threw a brick through my window and almost hit Jules!” I was furious now, though I realized I’d just cussed at my boss. “Excuse my French,” I amended.
Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed at my words, and for the tiniest of seconds, I almost grinned at his confusion over the idiom.
“You’re about to cross a line, Agent,” the Director warned. That wiped away any humor.
I was about to retort with something very ungentlemanly when Andrew blew past me, taking the phone with him. He had moved so fast I was left staring at my empty hand for a few seconds, baffled. I glanced up just in time to see Andrew vanish out the back door. I followed him, a flurry of protests escaping me like tiny missiles. Gabriella came from nowhere and blocked my path. I nearly tripped over her as I skidded to a halt.
Before I could speak, she held up a hand. “Let it go.”
My angry gaze landed on her. Gabby was a beautiful woman, but that didn’t stop her from finding a way to get under my skin and infuriate me. Secretly, it was one of the things I liked about her, but not today and not right now.
“Let it go?” I barked.
Gabby wasn’t even fazed by my nasty tone-of-voice. “Let Andrew deal with it. You’ve got a fiancée and a little girl who are scared to stay here locked in your bedroom.”
I opened my mouth, ready to retort, but her words had pulled me up short. That was another thing I liked about Gabby: she always got straight to the point and had this easy way of throwing everything into perspective when all one saw was the endless dark. Gabby was always seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and all those other cliché ways of saying she was a glass half full type of woman.
I lowered my head and went back inside like I was a scolded puppy—I sure felt like one. At least my backyard was free of the media, but who knew when they
’d get over their aversion to climbing fences.
When would this all be over?
CHAPTER 6: THE LAST STRAW
Firen leaned against my bedroom door, dejection pulling her lips down into a severe frown. Firen wasn’t one for conversation or showing any type of strong emotion, so I knew she was honestly upset.
“Hey. You okay?” I asked, worried.
Her grey eyes widened at my approach, and she appeared panicked. She bit her lip, hesitant to speak. I’d never seen her act anything less than a warrior, even with Jenna and Jules. This completely threw me off guard, and I wasn’t sure how to go about getting her to talk or if I even wanted her to.
“What is it?” I probed, hoping I wasn’t crossing some invisible line.
Firen sucked in a breath, and then words exploded out of her. “She’s upset with me and thinks all of this is my fault,” she cried. “Jenna’s probably told Jules that I caused this. They’ll never want to see me again. I was just trying to protect them, I swear.”
Surprised by the outburst, I responded without thought. “Of course it’s not your fault,” I soothed, not sure if I should hug her. I settled on awkwardly patting her shoulder.
She sniffled, and I stared at her in horror, hoping to God she wouldn’t cry. “It’s not?” she asked, voice desperate for reassurance.
“That brick had nothing to do with you,” I promised, still patting her like one would to a stinky dog they didn’t want to get too close to. Though, Firen didn’t stink. It was just that this whole situation was all rather . . . bizarre.
“I didn’t throw the brick,” she agreed, “but my presence here has caused this.” She locked eyes with mine, pleading. “Outside, with the humans, I was just trying to protect them.” She uselessly waved her hand at the closed door. “I’ve only caused more problems. Send me away! Fetch Lucia so she can toss me back into the Abyss.”
Keepers: A Timeless Novella Page 3
