by S. L. Naeole
I knew he was an angel, too. There was simply no other explanation for his perfection, and no sense in denying it. “Yes, she is.”
He nodded. “She looks just like her grandmother did all those many years ago. They possess the same spirit, you know—fiery and determined. It’s no wonder that Rob’s taken it upon himself to walk her down the aisle. It’s like looking back some fifty, sixty years.”
I turned to watch Rob place a kiss on the bride’s cheek just before placing her hand in the groom’s. He hesitated, almost like a reluctant father would, but then the transfer was complete and he was taking a seat. But it wasn’t next to me.
“I’m sure he and Ellie never thought all those years ago that they’d be sitting here, attending a wedding together.”
I shifted myself around to stare once again into the stranger’s tawny eyes, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “Who are you, and how do you know so much about Ellie and Robert?”
He leaned back into his chair, his demeanor casual, relaxed, and answered with a knowing smile. “I’m Sam. And, little human girl, I know so much about Ellie and Rob because I was the one who introduced them. They really made a cute couple back then, but they weren’t suited, him being an angel and all. But it’s nice that they stayed friends, don’t you think?”
I looked at him, unable to say anything. Smiling at my vocal paralysis, he continued. “I mean, imagine how hard it must have been, watching her marry someone else, have children, and…grow old. I can’t imagine enduring that with someone I professed to love.”
I looked down in my lap, staring at my fingers. The same fingers Robert had kissed not too long ago in the car, kissed in the same way he’d kissed Ellie’s hand…
I lifted my head and looked again at Sam. “I think it’s very romantic, actually; I think that he must trust and care for me a lot to go to all this trouble to bring me here to meet her and her family.”
I turned my back to him and tried to watch the rest of the ceremony, wondering the whole time if what I had said was true. I could see Sam staring at me out of the corner of my eye, his expression confused, his mouth no longer curved into a smile. Good. I hope he was hearing Lark’s thoughts about him, and I hope he was hearing the uncensored version.
When the officiate announced that the groom could now kiss the bride, a great whoop of joy filled the night and to my surprise, the bride dipped her groom, planting a very silly, yet loving kiss on his lips before shouting, “I’ve got you now!” Everyone around me laughed. Well…almost everyone.
Sam’s face was still. It was like the joy that was flowing through the tent was just passing around him instead of being absorbed like it was with everyone else. I couldn’t understand how he could simply ignore the immense amount of affection that was radiating out, like he was numb to emotion as well as physical feeling.
“Are you ready for the reception, Grace?”
I turned to see Robert standing next to me, the row of seats now completely empty save for me and, I turned to look at Sam…he was gone! I looked up at Robert, wondering if he’d seen his brother sitting next to me, heard our conversation. So many questions were in my mind, in my eyes, and the only one that he answered was the only one that I really wanted to know.
“Grace, please understand that I was never in love with Eloise. I loved her, of course I did. She was electus patronus, it’s our duty to-”
“Electus what-us? What are you talking about?” I interrupted.
“The electus patronus are the chosen guardians, those of certain families that have been selected to protect our identities, ease our way in your human world. Those whom are here today have a family history that is about as long and old as this country, but they are merely the finger in the hand of those who seek to keep our secrets safe. They are, in essence, our human family.”
“And Ellie was—is—an electus patronus,” I said, rather than asked, because he had already stated so.
“Yes,” he replied, “She’s been one since she was eighteen. I met her for the first time on her nineteenth birthday, when mother, Lark, and I returned from a trip to Europe. She was new, and sweet, and vivacious. And, she knew everything that a human can learn about us so there were no secrets to keep, which made talking to her easy. She made it easy to love her.
“But love isn’t a guarantee to happiness. Obviously we weren’t suited, and definitely not destined. She was looking for a complete future for herself, one that included marriage, and children, and housewarming parties. I couldn’t offer those things to her, whether I wanted to or not, because those things are reserved for a special kind of love—the kind for hearts that are destined for each other, that have room inside of them for more than ambition and duty. I tried to say that I wanted all of the same things that she did, but I couldn’t. I cannot lie.
“But, Ellie wasn’t angry, or hurt. She was devoted to her role as protector, committed, but she wanted a family, too. She never questioned my decision to end our relationship, and, as she told me after the birth of her daughter, she was thankful to me for not being able to lie to her about what I wanted and give her a fool’s hope.”
I was, too. I was incredibly, insanely, intensely glad.
He sat down next to me, chuckling as he did so, and motioned towards the larger tent where the guests were all seated, the celebratory atmosphere quite evident. “Everyone in there are either electus patronus or one of my kind. We are all tied together by birth, by blood, by right, by duty, and most importantly, by faith.
“You are the only one here who isn’t one of my kind or one of theirs and they all know it. One of the reasons why I brought you here was because you mean a great deal to me, and I wanted everyone here to know that.”
“Including Ellie?” I asked.
“Especially Ellie. But, more importantly, I wanted you to know that. By bringing you here, I’m bringing you into my world. I’ve told you some secrets, but this one involves more than just me, Grace. Your knowing about this lets them know that I trust you enough to have put not just my entire life, but theirs as well in your hands. You’re safe here.”
The enormity of his trust in me made me speechless. His secret wasn’t just his secret to me anymore. It was one that was shared by many, only they knew much, much more than I did. What else did they know? Did they like the fact that I now knew about them? And more importantly, was I deserving of that trust?
And then, as if I were struck by lightning, the dawning of a simple truth hit me. “You brought me here to protect me.”
THE FUDGESICLE AND DAFFODIL EXPERIMENT
He smiled, glad for my revelation. “Yes. Until you had been introduced to everyone, you’d always be considered a threat.”
“But why?”
“Because, quite simply, you mean more to me than just a moment of physical feeling. You’ve touched my existence in a way that very few have, and you know that we angels are emotional beings—the slightest switch in how we feel can result in either incredible creation or great destruction. You don’t know to what extent our strength and our abilities go-”
“Because you haven’t told me,” I interjected.
“Well, true, I haven’t. You only know bits and pieces about us, and I apologize for the neglect in that area. I owe you so much more in the way of being forthcoming, and I will be. But that is for later. Tonight is about other things.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “What other things?”
“It has a lot to do with Ellie, and you especially. I wanted a human’s advice about you, advice I could trust, because I don’t understand your mind, your thoughts. You think differently from everyone else, and I’m not talking about opinions and morals. I’m talking about the actual way you think. You’re a lot like us in some ways, because you actually compartmentalize your thoughts, put things in their own individual areas while thinking; you think about many things all at once, which is fascinating to find in a human.
“It’s also why you’re able to hide your thoughts. I figured it out while Sam
was talking to you. You were thinking about so many things already, and when he told you about Ellie, it was like your mind had split into four corners. The emotional, rational, logical, and cynical parts of your brain were warring with each other; it’s like you have a mental referee who separated them, and the empty space that lay in between was all that I could see and hear.” Robert looked at me with amazement shining in his eyes, and I felt almost like some kind of science experiment that just won a ribbon at a fair.
“But, if you can’t see or hear anything, how do you know that’s how it is?” I asked, skeptical, but then again, I couldn’t see in my own head the same things he did. My memories were all in 2D while he could see everything in 4D.
Robert’s smug smile left me breathless as he answered my question, “I think it’s because you’re beginning to trust me. Either that or I’ve started recognizing the signs, and can find a way to cling onto a thought in your mind until you’ve designated a place for it to go.”
“Robert,” I started, “I’m not sure I understand…”
The smug smile became sweet, and spread across his face. “Let’s try a little experiment. We’ll start with something simple. I’ll give you two subjects, and I want to you think about both of them and then I want you to think about something else, anything.”
I nodded my head, and closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever it was that he’d throw my way. “Think about…fudgesicles and daffodils.”
I wanted to say something about the ridiculousness of those two items combined, but chose not to. Instead, I thought about the frozen, fudge-flavored treats and the bright yellow flowers that were prevalent in Ohio—I thought about how much damage a melted fudgesicle could do to the dress that Robert had bought, and how out of place a bouquet of daffodils would look placed next to the sticky stain. I pictured trying to get someone to dry clean the stain out and being told it cost more than my lab for Biology. Thinking of Biology made me picture Mr. Branke’s face, and I suddenly felt ill.
“Grace?”
“Hmm?” I murmured, and realized that Robert was actually shaking me. I opened my eyes and took in the gleeful expression on his face.
“You did it!” Robert cheered, pride beaming from his smile. “That was amazing! At first, all I could see was the fudgesicle in your mind. The flowers appeared next, but then the two started to blend, and things started getting darker; your mind had gone completely blank—as though it had tuned out completely—but I knew that it hadn’t, because your face was so intense. And then it looked…well, positively green.”
“Oh, I was thinking about Mr. Branke, and Biology class,” my voice croaked, the nausea slowly creeping back into me by the mere mentioning of his name.
I saw liquid eyes turn solid as he understood the change in my mood. “He makes all of the girls uncomfortable. You’re not alone in your opinion of him.”
I gave a shrug. “It’s not like that makes it any less creepy. Anyway, can we not talk about Mr. Branke, or school, or anything else right now?” I eyed the waiters coming out to serve dinner under the large tent and my stomach growled. Loudly.
He laughed and nodded his understanding. “Come, hungry one. Let’s feed you before the dancing begins. We can talk more afterwards.” He pulled me up and started leading me towards the intoxicating smell of food!
Thankfully, seating assignments were taken very seriously by angel and electus patronus alike—apparently the whole honesty thing kept anyone from taking someone else’s spot—so our seats were still free when we sat down next to Lark and Ameila. I was introduced to several of the individuals on the table with us, amazed at who was and who wasn’t an angel. It appeared that the electus patronus were all beautiful as well, their only give away being how they reacted to the heat of their dinner and the chill of their drinks.
One person in particular whom I had been told was an angel visiting from France was exceptionally beautiful, even for an angel, with silvery hair that had been braided into glistening ropes that were piled high atop of her head, swooping down in elegant arabesques that framed her extraordinary face.
She had alabaster skin—so perfect and flawless it was almost transparent—and her lips were stained strawberry pink, lush and always lifted up in a smile. What was most striking, however, was the color of her eyes. I had seen the silver of Robert’s, and now the gold of Sam’s, but for the first time, I took in the glorious sparkle of violet eyes.
They were filled with amusement as she took in my examination of her, and I felt myself flush in embarrassment at having been caught staring.
Her hand graced mine lightly, the briefest of touches, before she turned away to speak to the individual on her opposite side. I watched her for a few moments more, mesmerized by her, by everything there was about her. The way her laughter made her head toss back with careless beauty, the way her hands moved in such an animated way as she spoke that they demanded almost as much attention as her lilting voice did. She appeared so young, so youthful and yet she had an air about her that seemed older and wiser than even Ameila, who looked—in human years anyway—several years older.
“Do angels age?” I asked Robert when I could finally tear my eyes away from the silver-haired goddess.
Robert reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it, a jolt of energy and feeling turning my stomach inside out and sending my heart into a race to keep up with the wishes I silently made as I waited for him to answer.
“We can if we want to. I don’t have to look like this; I could look much older if I wished, but I’ve found this age to be much easier to live with—humans are more amenable to youth I’ve found. Why do you ask?”
I flicked my eyes at the different faces that surrounded us, angel and human alike, avoiding the one next to me and whispered, “I didn’t know…your mother can change forms, so I thought the reason she looked old enough to be your mother was because of that. I took it for granted that the rest of you would look young as well.”
“It’s ok. You’re not the first person to ask that question, and you definitely won’t be the last. Ahh, here comes our server.” He smiled and squeezed my hand again, then released it when the food arrived. I groaned when I saw the paltry amount of food on my plate. My stomach was growling for super sized something—anything—and instead it appeared that all I’d be eating for dinner was your basic micro-diet sized morsels.
I eyed everyone else on the table, all too deeply invested in their own mental conversations to really notice the expanse of bare plates in front of them. Oh, they were eating, but there could have been raw slugs on their plates and they wouldn’t have noticed, too engrossed in discussing electus patronus type things most likely—things that I was still woefully ignorant about. Even Robert was heavy occupied in a silent conversation with his family. I could tell simply by how they were leaning in towards each other, their eyes flitting from one to the other like glowing silver fireflies.
I ate in silence, suddenly feeling far more out of place here than I ever had in school. Sure, I looked like they did, dressed to the nines in an expensive gown, shoes, jewelry. But I was just playing a role after all, while this was their life.
I was very limited when it came to my knowledge about angels; all I knew was what I had been told, and since the few angels that I knew had made it quite clear that all of my preconceived notions were false, what I did know to be true was pretty sparse, and could never compare to what the electus patronus knew.
Suddenly curious, I wanted to know what exactly they did know. If there was ever a better time to get as much information about angels from a human perspective, now would be it. And, I knew just who to ask. That was one reason why I had been brought here after all, right? Not feeling the need to excuse myself, since no one seemed to be paying attention anyway, I stood up and started looking for the person who would have answers to my questions.
It wasn’t that difficult to find her. She was the only one there in a wheelchair, her white hair piled beautifully on
her head in a bun that resembled a very large, round, iced cinnamon roll.
“Ellie?” I said softly, not really wanting to disturb her as she sat away from everyone else, watching her granddaughter and new grandson-in-law as they shared a private conversation.
She turned her head around and smiled when she saw me. “Ah, Grace, come-” she patted a chair that was next to her “-sit down and let’s have a chat, shall we?”
I did as she asked, quite pleased that she seemed as interested in talking as I was.
“You see my Hannah over there?” she motioned towards the bride. “She’s the tenth generation of MacInherney to be an electus patronus. Her grandfather would be so proud.”
I looked at her face intently, watching it grow a little sad, her eyes growing a bit glassy with newly formed tears that begged to fall. She wiped them away as she began to speak. “Lawrence, my husband, well, he was the only one of his siblings who had passed the test, you see, and when we had our only child, Olivia, we were very disappointed when she announced to us that she didn’t even want to take the test. She said she didn’t believe in the existence of God anymore, and that there was no reason to believe in his servants if there was no God.
“That nearly killed my Lawrence, it did. He was not the same man after that. We electus patronus are nothing if not faithful, so the loss of faith among us can be very heartbreaking.”
I raised my hand a bit, needing her to answer something. “What test?”
She laughed at her omission. “Oh dear, you don’t know? The test, well, it’s pretty straightforward. We’re asked what the worst thing that we’ve done is. Do you see how simple it is? How absolutely simple?”
I nodded. Of course it was perfect in its simplicity. When one had the ability to run through your entire life in a matter of seconds, view your every deed, good and bad, and then asked you what the worst thing you’ve ever done was, any answer that was a lie would be denounced on the spot.
“The mind is an amazing thing, Grace. When we form a memory, the first imprint that burns itself into our mind, the image that is created before we can form an opinion about it, well…that remains forever; that’s the true memory. Over time, we see it as something different because age and perception blurs the lines a bit, even changes it completely, but when the time comes for the test, we have to see things clearly, see things the way that they’re supposed to be and not how we want them to be, otherwise we’ll give the wrong answer.”
