I popped a chip in my mouth, crunch, fearful but enthralled.
Minutes flew by as we watched flailing wings over the city. Angels and hunters would lock and tumble in close combat here and there. The occasional glint of a sword, I assumed, or some other kind of weapon. My heart would drop every time I noticed an injured angel spiraling downward out of control. Though it may have been wrong, I selfishly hoped the injured one wasn’t Dad or Jaydenn. The night began to fill with tension and I didn’t know how much more I could take. Angie sat in silence beside me.
“They’ll be okay, Ang.”
“Yeah, I hope. I don’t feel so good, my stomach. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
In the distance, two glowing spots were approaching fast. “I think they’re coming here,” I said.
“Yeah, they are, aren’t they? I’m going downstairs.” She was off without another word.
After flicking on the outside lights, we stood on the porch deck, just outside the door. The glowing angels approached. I tucked some hair behind my ear, waiting, worry pooling inside.
The image became clear: Dad, with his arm around a hulking team member. Dad was helping him fly, as it seemed the bare-chested injured one had a broken wing. His slacks hung in tatters. Blood splattered his body like red paint thrown on a white canvas. Eyes twisted with pain, jaw clenching as they touched down to the driveway.
Hunters were on the way in the distant sky.
A cupped hand over my mouth muffled the words, “Oh, Source.”
“Girls, get back in the house!” Dad growled, lowering the injured one to the driveway.
Shock held me rooted to the deck for a beat, until I turned to notice that Angie was already in the house … As I stepped in and stood trembling, Angie was racing from the foyer with the medical kit in hand, a wild look of determination on her face. Mom, in her nightgown, streaked in with a stack of towels and the practiced look of a veteran.
All I could do was stand, and watch.
What can I do? I need to do something. I dashed to the window to see Dad facing off with a hunter on the driveway. The vulture lunged forward, snapped his beak, but Dad was too quick and dodged out of the way. Bub ran over and jumped paws up on the windowsill, barking, barking, barking at the hunter—roaf, roaf, roaf!
I wheeled around. Mom was pushing the coffee table to the couch, Angie sliding Dad’s chair across the hardwood and out of the way. Mom rolled up the living room throw rug, picked up one end, dragged it around the couch and dropped it. She returned to the center of the room, went to her knees and began spreading towels on the floor. Angie knelt beside her and started to organize the medical tools in a neat row.
“We have to do something, Mom.” I yelped. “The hunter is out there.”
Roaf, roaf, roaf, said Bub.
Mom snapped her head up. “What?”
My vision went back out the window to see the hunter lift the wounded angel off the ground, then swing him in his black beak like a wet-blood rag. Dirt clouds puffed over the driveway while Dad avoided the stomping talons.
Bub whined, scratched at the window glass, barked, roaf, roaf! Whined and scratched.
Blood streamed horror in my mind, I cried out, “No! We have to do something. He’s going to—” I froze in my vision:
Vyn dropped out of the night, bare-chested, a spear in hand. He must have hurdled off the balcony! His contorted face showed fury. Light steamed from his nose. While fall-ing, he lifted the spear vertical, thrust it down into and through the hunter’s head, driving the vulture into the ground and staking it to the dirt.
The hunter lay sprawled on the driveway, twitching, limp black wings spread.
Vyn, rippling cords of muscle sheened with sweat and glinting moonlight, just stood on the hunters back. Just stood there, clenching his jaw, huffing light. A statue. A gleaming warrior.
The scientist was gone.
Bub stayed silent beside me … a small whine.
The hunter’s beak sagged open. Dad pulled the wounded angel free. Mom ran across the driveway to help. Dad hoisted the injured one off the ground, propped him up with one arm draped across Dad’s shoulders. Mom took the other side. While they began to move toward the house, Dad looked back over his shoulder and threw a firm nod of appreciation to Vyn. Vyn replied with a jaw clench, a male tip of his chin, and proceeded to scan the night for hunters. Seeming satisfied, he jerked the spear out of the vulture’s skull, and hopped off to the ground.
With a sniffle, I rubbed my moistened eyes. Did I just see that? Source, who is he?
The door swung open and slammed to the wall. Dad and Mom carried the torn angel into the room, trailing blood. They lowered him to the floor by the towels.
Bub ran over to sniff and examine.
Dad knelt down. “You’re gonna be fine, Luca. Just hang in there. It’s just a scratch.”
A hand clapped over my gasp. Luca! My mind slipped into anguish. Oh, Ginelle, Steff, this can’t be happening …
Blood. So much blood.
“Go on, Bub,” Dad said, pushing Bub away.
Bub wheeled and took off out the door.
Luca was unconscious, or dead, I wasn’t sure which. Cuts. Gashes. A wing snapped and twisted out of shape.
Frozen, weeping and appalled, I watched. Mom and Angie were ripping rags, wrapping, pressing and stopping the blood flow with frantic precision.
They were professionals at work. And I couldn’t move.
Dad held Luca’s limp hand. “You’re all right. The girls are gonna patch you up, brother. You’ll be on your feet in no time, whistling like a bird.” Dad angled an almost imperceptible look at Mom. She returned an unsure glance, ripped a rag.
Bub padded in, sniffing the blood trail.
Vyn stepped in, stared at the fallen one. “Is that Luca? Is he gonna be all right?”
Not a word … they just kept working their crimson-soaked hands….
CHAPTER 26
“No problem,” Dad said, lounging back on his wings in one of two beds in the White room. “We have to keep StarWing blood in the family, right.”
The White room holds a purpose—two beds, a stainless sink, locked cabinets, the closet full of IV racks and other gadgets, the refrigerator with Source knows what inside it—an in-home clinic.
Morning shone through the windowpanes. Antiseptic smells filled the room. Luca and Dad had IV tubes hanging from their arms. Bandages covered most of Luca’s body. Pillows propped up his legs. A chain contraption hung from the ceiling, holding up the sling that supported his broken right wing. A myriad of small, red-rimmed cuts covered his tough face. A long scar fell across his right cheek, stitched like a zipper.
Still in my PJ pants and T-shirt, I stood in the doorway in timid curiosity, the taste of mint toothpaste in my mouth. I could hear the sounds of Angie’s shower coming from the bathroom down the hall, and Mom preparing breakfast downstairs. Tucking some hair behind my ear, I asked Luca in a hushed tone, “Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah. Just a scratch,” he replied with a wince; then whistled. “See, like a bird.”
I tried to smile.
“I can’t believe I have quarterback blood in me now,” Luca said. Dad laughed.
Memories strolled into my mind. Back when I was a little girl, whenever I would toddle into the house with a scrape or scratch, Mom would say, “Go up to the White room honey, I’ll be right up.” And I’d come up here, climb up on the footstool and perch on the end of a bed. Other times, I would pretend to be sick and Angie would pretend to take care of me. She would take my pulse with those arm-squeezing pump things, check my temperature, and use the gag-inducing tongue sticks. She’d bring out a metal rack and pretend to put an IV in my arm.
Now, a kind of holographic memory appeared in the room—the apparition image of me as a little girl sat on the end of a bed, Mom’s image taking care of me. Mom’s image walked over to the cupboards by the stainless sink. She came back to the bed, placed a bandage on my knee, then touched h
er lips to it and said, “It’s all better now, Ellie,” and I smiled my little blue eyes up at my mother.
Last night, Mom was a whirlwind of action. She had worked the room with controlled and calm precision, voicing out orders and requests. I had no idea she knew so much. Angie and I would bring her whatever she needed: clean towels and linens, fresh water and bandages, and drinks to keep us all hydrated.
“Come on in here, Ellie,” Dad said, leaning up and propping some pillows behind him.
With a strange, disembodied feeling, I stepped over and stood at the foot of Dad’s bed as he said, “I need to tell you something about Vyn.”
“Yeah,” Luca groaned, “tellem I owe him a great big one.”
After answering Luca’s request with a half-grin and a little nod, I turned back to Dad as he went on, “Vyn is what I like to call a sleeper, Ellie. See, he’s a warrior through and through and he doesn’t even know it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen power like that. I will never have to worry about him taking care of you. See, he’s a guard. They’re a rare breed these days. You’ve got yourself a real male there.” He paused to consider. “There’s a few things I can’t tell you. You’ll just have to be patient. He’s still growing. I’m sure you’ve seen him in that guard position. He locks up, doesn’t he?”—Dad grinned at my nod—“Honey, he’s not locked. And if anything ever threatens you while he’s in guard, well, that position is a warning. And it’s deadly serious. He will destroy anything that messes with you. He’s always been part of this family, Ellie, and I’m proud to call him my son.”
His words lit me up with pride and a smile from wing to wing. “Thank you, Dad. That means so much to me, it really does.” I walked to the side of the bed and bent for a hug.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered, patted my back, stood me up. “Now you know what we’re up against, don’t you?”
After stealing a glance at Luca and back, I nodded agreement, images of blood oozing.
“I know it must’ve been hard to look at.”
Yeah, he’s not kidding. It was— my attention jerked to the sound of Ginelle storming in, Steffunnie dragging behind as Ginelle went off:
“Oh Source, Luca! Are you okay?” In jeans and a V-neck T, she stood beside Luca’s bed.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch! Are you flappin kidding me? Look at yourself? It looks like you—” She stopped herself, slid a glance down at Steff.
“Are you sick, Daddy?” Steff questioned while holding her mother’s hand.
“No, no, I’m fine, little bug. I just had an accident.”
“Oh, like a football accident?”
“Yep, just like that.” Luca chuckled.
Ginelle blew out a sigh, shook her head.
Steff looked up at her. “He’s okay, Mommy. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
Ginelle finally lifted some sort of smile. Her hair hung forward as she bent and kissed Luca. He winced, kissed back, his wrapped wing shifting under the bandages. Ginelle stood and swiveled her head to me. An exasperated light headshake as she said, “Football players, I’ll never get used to them.”
“Lift me up, Mommy. I wanna kiss Daddy too.”
Ginelle hoisted Steff up, hovered her in prone position over Luca, and Steff kissed her daddy on the lips. Steff placed both her little hands on his face, looked into his eyes. “You should be more careful, Daddy. We were worried about you.”
It took all I had in me to hold back the tears. I knew they didn’t realize how close he’d come to— Mom had to restart his heart twice. The second time she’d almost failed.
Ginelle set Steff to the floor, turned to Dad and said, “Phil, guess what, you’ve got yourself houseguests. We’re not leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it, understand, nothing. That’s just the way it is. I’ll set up tent in the barn if I have to.”
“Mommy, can we sleep with the horses, really?”
Dad chuckled, angled his head to Luca. “I like your wife, Luc. She’s got fire.” He slid his eyes to Ginelle. “And we could always use another cheerleader.” Smirk.
Luca spoke up, “Oh, owe, now you did it, owe.”
“A cheerleader, huh, mister male.” Ginelle’s ice-blue eyes sliced into a glare. “Well, this cheerleader could kick your ass from ten feet away, so don’t mess with me. And I like my morning coffee with two sugars at precisely seven AM.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dad replied with a not-so-straight face. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“Oh, and if you ever call me ma’am again, we’re going to see if this shoe will fit in certain places of your body.”
Dad took a moment to consider … “Well, how bout I call you, Ginny? You need a nickname. Smooth like gin, with a cheerleader kick. Yeah, I like that, Ginny.” A smile of accomplishment as wide and white as a piano keyboard spread across his face.
Luca said, “That’s pretty good one there, Phil. I’ll use that too.” He gave his wife a wink.
Ginelle sent Dad a long stare, scrunched up her face … then softened with a sigh. “Seriously though, Phil, thank you.” She pranced over, bent a kiss to Dad’s forehead.
“No problem, young lady. It’s my job. We can thank Vyn, though. He’s the hero.”
“Here, Daddy,” Steff said. “I brought you my favoritist stuffed animal.” She placed a pink angel-bear on Luca’s lap. “Her name is Willow, you know, like the tree.”
“Well thank you, little bug.” He lifted the bear up with his uninjured had, looked at it. “Of course I know Willow. She’s the one that gives good dreams, right?”
Steff giggled. “You’re silly, Daddy.”
My heart was healing. Steff had a way of doing that, and they were going to stay here.
I finally learned how to smile again …
After almost twenty minutes of talking, ribbing and joking, we figured it was time to let the boys rest. We began filing out of the room. On the way out, I stopped in the doorway, turned to Luca and said, “I’m really glad you’re okay, Luca. I was really scared.”
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone, but I was pretty scared myself. Now, go thank Vyn for me, will ya. I’d appreciate it.” He tossed me a scarred face grin. “Givem a big wet kiss for me.”
With a nod and a smile, I agreed. Then stepped out and tapped the door shut behind me.
****
The day went by in a somewhat silent house of rest. Quiet sighs. Clocks ticked. Refrigerator hummed. Ceiling fans gently pushed the air. Discussions were low in volume and kind.
Angie hung all over Jaydenn as if she couldn’t get enough. There was something under that love, under those smiles and kisses of hers—fear. She was taking advantage of the time.
I’d also noticed something about Vyn; his instincts hid from even his own awareness, behind the innocent face of a scientific teenager. I would study his eyes, wondering who was back there, before he’d snap me out of it with a question, “Ellie, whatcha lookin’ at?” He’d give me that smile, those dimples, those eyes, and I would pull him into a kiss like never before.
Mom had also changed, still had the soft beauty, of course, but her look had turned with shades of firm. She’d notice my stare and her face would light up. But it was still there, behind the loving mask.
Dad had given a speech off the vaulted lectern, in the front yard of the team barn. He had informed us that six team members were lost that night. Lost, a polite way of saying something dark. He’d said the lost had returned to Source and would join us again, with new bodies. He’d also tried to make light of the situation by calling it a “Source vacation.”
He’d become something more than my dad—a leader, their quarterback again.
Following the speech, I tried to accept everything, as much as a teenage female angel could, while wandering around the house, or the yard, in a daze. I would smell the flowers on the air, feel the grass beneath my feet, feel the cool iced tea slide down my throat, hear conversation like mumbles in
another dimension, and that was the extent of my awareness.
After brushing my teeth and going through my routine, I went to bed. Vyn was already asleep beside me, on his belly with one wing falling off the bed and the other tucked to his back.
I pulled the comforter up to my chin, stared at the ceiling.
Where did the day go? Had Mom given me a sedative earlier? I couldn’t remember.
****
The next morning, after a family breakfast, Dad and I sat in two porch chairs, just the two of us. It reminded me of when I was little, when this sort of thing was a regular occurrence. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I was prepared for the day. Well, mostly. My breath smelled of toothpaste when my mouth stretched open for a long yaaawn. I covered it with my hand … rubbed at my sore eyes.
Dad said in his deep father voice, “Looks like you didn’t get much sleep last night, huh. You know, you don’t have to go out there today, sweetheart. If you don’t think you’re ready. ”
Considering that, I tucked some hair behind my ear and sent my gaze into the pine forest and around the yard. Out there to my right, over in the carport next to the barn, I could see the spare tire on the back of the Jeep. Up against the other side of the barn was the woodpile stacked almost up to the roof. The night of chaos and terror had left no traces behind, except maybe a few scuffmarks where Dad had shoveled up the blood from the driveway. Sounds of distant male laughter drifted through the forest—the team starting their day.
Dad added, “I’ll make you a deal. If you do decide to go out there, just find them. Scout the areas and caves, mark them on the map in the den. The team’ll take care of the rest. You might want to bring a sword with you also. They’re handy in a close situation. If not, well, try to keep your distance. Just follow your instincts.”
Wings of Boden Page 20
