I moved a little bit away from him in order to study his face as best as I could in the diffused moonlight.
“So basically, you’re saying I should keep doing what you asked me to do in the first place.” I couldn't help thinking that seemed pretty convenient.
Zack nodded. His eyes, as always, were impenetrable dark shutters to his soul. I couldn’t read him.
“I don’t want to wait,” I said. “Who knows what will happen. Marie might harm others or herself. Anna already got caught in the crossfire. I can’t risk that. Surely there’s something… exorcism?” I asked hopefully.
Zack just shook his head. When I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, he sighed. “Sure, exorcism is an option but far too dangerous for your sister. This demon is very strong, and she would not survive an exorcism.”
I jumped on that bit of information. “So you do know who that demon is?”
Zack’s lip twitched just a tiny bit when he realized his mistake. Take that, poker face!
“Yes,” he admitted.
“What’s his name?” I pressed.
“Malachriel,” he said quietly after a moment of silence.
I repeated the word in my head. Obviously, I would Google him, even though I had come up with nothing when I had searched for information on Zachriel. Maybe I would be luckier with Malachriel. I would have done anything to get him to leave Marie alone.
“Promise me you won’t try anything of your own accord,” Zack urged, clearly reading my thoughts. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“Then tell me!”
“I can’t.” Zack sounded almost desperate. “You just have to trust me.”
I hesitated. He had saved my life. “Okay. I promise. For now.” That promise was subject to interpretation, but I wasn’t outright lying. If Zack could hold back information and leave me in the dark about his true intentions, I could do the same.
***
“I win again.” Bertie smiled and gathered the cards together.
I winked at Vito. His good-natured face did not betray anything, but I knew he had let his friend win. It was the fourth “afternoon tea” at the senior citizen center I had attended as a volunteer, and I had soon begun to join Vito, Bertie, and Alf in their usual game of rummy, as their fourth partner had unfortunately passed on shortly before I started volunteering.
I had soon caught on to the fact that Vito and Alf let Bertie, who was slightly demented and didn’t know what game we were playing half of the time, win most games. I had gone along with it, although nobody had ever commented on it out loud.
“What do you say, Bertie?” Alf asked. “Shall we go see Hannah and ask her for another slice of that delicious pineapple upside-down cake you like so much?”
Bertie nodded happily, and both shuffled off to the long table decked with cakes on the other side of the senior citizen center garden.
I was pleased to have an opportunity to talk with Vito and ask him some more questions about his personal life. I had picked the sixty-something, distinguished-looking man as the ideal candidate for Mrs. Mancini. First of all, he was Italian. Secondly, he always looked so well put together, not to mention stylish, in his understated gray suits, black trilby hat, and coiffured gray hair. It seemed to me that Mrs. Mancini—who was overdoing it a little bit in the grooming department if you asked me—would appreciate that.
Of course, it also helped that I really enjoyed talking to Vito.
“So, what did you do exactly before you retired, Vito?” The last time I’d been there, I established that he had retired a couple of years ago. And I’d discovered he was single, obviously.
“Another round of questions, hmm?” His intelligent brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks.
“That’s okay,” he said quickly. “But one of these days, you have to return the favor and tell me more about yourself, young lady.”
I nodded, relieved.
“I was a scholar. A university professor,” he continued.
“Oh. What did you teach?”
“I’m an expert in religious iconography, and I still do a lot of research now, even though I’m officially retired. I have a large book collection on the subject, and before you ask about my hobbies”—he winked at me—“that’s pretty much it.”
Vito must have seen how my eyes lit up because he asked, “Are you interested in the subject?”
I nodded vigorously. Did I know how to pick them or what? He was interested in religion, and Mrs. Mancini was a devout Catholic. She collected figurines; he collected books. Perfect! Maybe I could make this matchmaking wish thing a permanent gig. I seemed to have a talent for it. I was already making plans for my two lonely senior citizens to meet while half listening to Vito talk about his subject of interest.
The last couple of weeks had been really difficult because I had been on constant edge with Marie. I had started to lock my door at night, but I was still afraid to close my eyes. I wanted to avoid her as much as possible so she wouldn’t have an opportunity to hurt me, but I also felt the need to watch her all the time because I was scared of what she would do to herself and others. It had been nerve-wracking.
But now, it seemed as if things were looking up. I could actually manage this wish-fulfilling thing. No matter what Zack had said about intent and that it didn’t matter how long it took for me to fulfill a wish, I would feel better if I got a few fulfilled wishes under my belt.
9
“I need you to run a couple of errands for me today, Stella,” my stepmother said. “Unfortunately, I have to go to the office this morning.” She was rushing around the kitchen on this glorious Saturday morning.
I had the afternoon shift today, but I still had to come down for breakfast at seven instead of sleeping in—Allison's rule. It wasn’t worth getting into a fight over—I had to choose my battles. Besides, Saturday was chocolate chip pancake day, so if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really mind.
“I can’t, Allison. Sorry. Unless it’s something I can do right after breakfast, like go to the store. I’m picking Vito and Bertie up at ten. I told you,” I added when Allison put her hands on her hips, getting ready for a telling off.
“She did, Alli.” My dad came to my rescue. “She even asked you if she could take your car.”
“What?” Allison moaned. “I don’t remember this. Honestly, with the lack of sleep we’re getting lately, all those incidents around the house, and doctor’s visits… I swear I’m losing my mind. I guess I’ll have to walk to work, then.”
“Why don’t I drive you? I can go to the store or whatever straight after.” I hurried to placate her because under no circumstances did I want her to thwart my plans.
Today was the perfect opportunity. I had been checking the Saint Joseph website regularly and had quickly noticed that organizing bake sales wasn’t Mrs. Mancini’s only domain. She hadn’t been lying about being busy. She was organizing all sorts of things. Today, it was a second-hand book sale. Even better, she was selling old books from the church library. It hadn’t taken me long to persuade Vito to come with me to the sale.
“Okay,” Allison sighed. “Is this to do with the senior citizen center? You sure do spend an awful lot of time there.”
I nodded. “I’m volunteering just like you suggested.”
“That’s great, honey,” my dad said, chiming in. “But we were thinking more along the lines of volunteer work that might give you an idea about what you want to major in at college.”
Allison nodded vehemently.
I shrugged. “I like it. Maybe I’ll want to do something like that professionally.”
Allison raised her eyebrows. “What, social studies? Or were you thinking of a care job? Nursing maybe?”
“I don’t know.” I felt cornered again, something Allison tended to do. I knew she only wanted what was best for me. “I might try something else soon, though.”
Allison opened her mouth to say something, but Dad gave he
r a sharp look, and she shut it again. “Yes, you’re right,” my dad said. “Try out a few things. If you want to talk about your experience, we’re here for you.”
A couple of hours later, I picked up Vito and Bertie from the senior citizen center. They had insisted on waiting for me there, as they both lived right around the corner. We drove to Saint Joseph church. Tables with books and refreshments had been set up in the church garden. I spotted Mrs. Mancini straight away. She was kind of hard to miss, with her pink lipstick and severe black dress, similar to the one she had been wearing the day I interviewed her. She was also wearing a black hat with a little veil and a bird’s feather, which made her look even taller… and as if she was about to attend a funeral. I gave Vito a side-glance. I hoped he wasn’t the type who cared about appearances.
Mrs. Mancini had caught Bertie’s eye. “What a formidable young lady over there by the punch bowl. I think I’ll ask her if she would be so kind as to save me a dance.”
Instead of correcting Bertie and letting him know that we weren’t attending some kind of social gathering in Gone with the Wind and that the hag over there wasn’t a southern belle, I took the opportunity to approach Mrs. Mancini with my two elderly companions.
“That’s Mrs. Mancini. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Bertie and Vito followed me, and Mrs. Mancini’s sharp eyes were on me immediately. There weren’t that many people at the event, so I wasn’t hard to spot. And unlike Bertie, Mrs. Mancini seemed to have a memory like an elephant. “Miss Martens,” she said with pursed lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Mancini. What a nice coincidence to see you here. I’m accompanying these two gentlemen, Vito and Bertie.” I made introductions. “Vito is a collector of old religious books and is particularly interested in the ancient church library books you unearthed.”
“I see,” Mrs. Mancini said. “Some of them are indeed very old. We cleared a couple of rooms that are supposed to be used for a different purpose and found these dusty tomes. I personally don’t see the value in them, but I understand that some people do, and I immediately seized the opportunity to raise money for a good cause.”
I hoped Vito hadn’t taken the dusty tomes reference to heart. I wanted to make Mrs. Mancini more appealing to him, so I asked, “What worthy cause is this for, Mrs. Mancini? Orphaned children, maybe? The homeless? Flood victims?” I smiled in Vito's direction, but his face remained perfectly polite, no more, no less.
“Stamps,” she said.
“Come again?”
“I’ve been petitioning for years for special collection stamps with bible motives. Recently, I finally received a positive answer. If Saint Joseph can raise the money for an artist to supply the drawings, they’ll consider it.”
My face fell. Not very altruistic of Mrs. Mancini. Stamps—did anyone even use stamps anymore these days?
“That might be something for you,” Vito told Bertie.
I was confused. It seemed Mrs. Mancini was too. “Are you a stamp collector, Mr.… um, Bertie?”
“Oh yes, I love stamps.” Bertie gave Mrs. Mancini a radiant smile, and I could have sworn I saw her cheeks flush a little.
Vito nodded. “Yes, and Mr. Donaldson is also an artist, specializing in biblical images.”
I looked at Bertie with big eyes. I had no idea he was an artist. Then I turned my eyes to Vito. Wasn’t he promising a bit much? Even if Bertie could draw, he might not remember to do it.
“Mr. Donaldson…” Mrs. Mancini was obviously turning the name over in her head. “Albert Donaldson?”
Bertie nodded. “That’s me.”
Now Mrs. Mancini definitely blushed. “I am a great fan of your work, Mr. Donaldson.”
I looked at Vito again. This time, my concern must have been evident because he waved his arm. “He’ll be all right,” he whispered to me. “This is one area of his life that doesn’t give him any trouble and seems unaffected by his illness.”
“Still,” I said. “I think you should talk to Mrs. Mancini about it later. Just so she doesn’t have wrong expectations.”
He nodded. “I will.”
Strike! The two of them would have a private conversation. My matchmaking success was well on its way.
“But now I’m dying to see these books,” Vito continued in a louder and more excited voice.
Mrs. Mancini heard him and pointed him in the right direction. Then she turned back to Bertie. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Donaldson, I would love to have a bit more of a chat with you. Maybe we could talk about these drawings.”
“That would be wonderful,” Bertie gushed.
I looked at Vito, who was just about to turn to the table with the most promising books. He sighed. “If I could have a quick word with you, Mrs. Mancini?”
“Come on, Bertie, why don’t we get ourselves a nice piece of cake?” I dragged him away from the stall.
“Okay, I’ll talk to the pretty young lady later.”
I nodded, but my eyes were on Vito and Mrs. Mancini, who were standing close together, talking in hushed and earnest tones. Then Vito smiled, and Mrs. Mancini started to look a little bit less like she had a stick up her ass. I’d known that a charming Vito would be able to loosen her up a little. What a great match. I was mentally rubbing my hands together. This was just too easy.
10
“This is me,” Vito said.
I parked in front of one of the entrances of the red brick apartment building. It used to be an old paper mill, and it had been converted to apartments a couple of years ago.
“Would you terribly mind helping me carry the books upstairs?” he asked. “I’m afraid my enthusiasm ran away with me, and I bought so many that I won’t be able to take them upstairs in one trip.”
“Sure, no problem.” I was curious about Vito’s apartment, so I didn’t mind at all. I put the car in park and got out. Then I grabbed the books from the trunk, gave Vito a stack, and carried another one myself. “Wow, heavy,” I exclaimed.
Vito gave me a rueful smile. “A couple of old tomes, I’m afraid.”
I was so preoccupied with carrying that high, towering stack of books that I hardly paid any attention to Vito's apartment. So I was taken aback when I put down the books on a desk in what he explained was his study and accidently knocked the stack over. “I am so sorry,” I exclaimed, bending down to pick up a book that had fallen on the hardwood floor, which was covered with oriental carpets. “Your study looks like a library. All these old, leather-bound books…” There were hundreds of them—maybe thousands—from floor to high ceiling.
“I wish. Libraries tend to be a little bit more spacious. I have to make do with this room. But I must confess—I have bookshelves in the other rooms too. These shelves are filled with valuable books and those related to my studies.”
“Like the library in a stately home, then.” I brushed his objection aside. The study did really look like that. It had a fireplace, overstuffed winged chairs, and a huge mahogany desk.
I gave the room another admiring glance and put the book back on the stack. Only then did I realize what I was holding in my hands.
An Ecclesiastic History of Angels was written in old-fashioned printing on the leather cover.
“You’re… um, interested in angels?” I held up the book and tried my best to sound casual.
“Why, yes, it’s my area of specialty. Didn’t I tell you?” He took the book from me and went to one of the shelves then lovingly brushed his fingers over the spines until he found the right place for the book.
“Um… sure. Sorry, I forgot.” In truth, he had probably told me, and I’d been too preoccupied with my matchmaking to pay attention.
I stepped next to him and tried to read the titles on the spines. An Encyclopedia of Extra-Biblical Angels caught my attention. I looked at Vito. “May I?”
My heart was beating so fast that I was afraid he would hear it and question my excitement. But he was already sorting through the other books he’d purchas
ed. “Of course.”
I saw that there were several volumes, and I pulled out the volume labeled U-Z. I hadn’t found anything about Vitrella and Zachriel online, but it hadn’t even occurred to me to go to the library. No need for that now because I had found the best library on the subject right here in Average. What a happy coincidence—or was it? I got a bit of a queasy feeling that somebody I had just met happened to have all the answers I was looking for in their apartment.
But that feeling was quickly forgotten when I actually found an entry for Vitrella. According to this dictionary, Vitrella was an angel who wore a visor that looked as if it was made out of glass. It let her see the wishes of humans. It didn’t say anything about fulfilling these wishes, but it was close enough.
Zachriel had an even smaller entry. He was an angel of apocalypse, and that was all it said. But at least it was something. And it proved that Zack hadn’t lied to me about who he and Vitrella were. Maybe everything else he’d told me was also true. He had asked me to trust him, and it seemed that I could.
Unfortunately, I had never been the kind of person who could just let things lie. I had to pick at something until it unraveled. When I had been twelve or thirteen, I had seen Dad and Allison come home with wrapped Christmas presents. I had nagged Dad until he had actually told me where the presents were hidden.
“Don’t open them, pumpkin,” he had sighed. “Don’t spoil the surprise for yourself.” But that was exactly what I had done. I just hadn’t been able to keep my hands off the presents, so I had carefully unwrapped all of them, looked inside, then rewrapped them. I had been so pleased with myself. But on Christmas morning, I had to pretend to act joyful and surprised, and I hadn’t been able to enjoy that Christmas at all.
But this wasn’t about some sort of joyous surprise I would get once I earned Zack's trust. This was about saving my sister. So I couldn’t hold myself back from asking questions.
Wish Upon a Fallen Star: Average Angel Page 6
