A Gift of Wings (8 page)

“Zeke, I’ve been out of the ranks for two years. No one is going to accept me in a position of authority.”

“Of course, they will,” Zeke said. “Some few might be a little disgruntled at being overlooked themselves, but they all recognize and respect your power. They also understand why you did what you did. They may not have agreed with your decision at the time, but even then they understood your motivation. Just because you renounced this life and kept yourself apart from us for the past two years does not mean you have been forgotten. There was a reason we insisted the Renunciation be of limited duration. Not one of us thought permanent Renunciation was in anyone’s best interest.”

“Oh, one of us did,” Aidan disagreed.

Zeke looked a question at him. “And do you still feel that way?”

Aidan sighed, “If you had asked me that yesterday morning, I’d have said yes, most definitely. Now, though,….” He paused, looking from his brother to Zeke and back to Kev. “If there’s going to be a battle, then I need to be a part of it. If Kev can take on
Ha-Satan
, then this is the least I can do. I’m in.”

“I was hoping you’d feel that way,” Kev said. “Actually, I was pretty sure you would.”

“Really? I thought you were one of those who viewed my decision to undertake Renunciation as nothing short of betrayal.”

The corner of Kev’s mouth lifted in a smile. “It pissed me off. I didn’t want to see you throw it all away.” His face sobering, he continued, “But I understood, Aidan. You’d lost too much. And I know I had a part in that.” An unvoiced apology was in his eyes.

When he stood and held out his right hand, Aidan took it, closing his fingers firmly around his brother’s.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Kev said.

Aidan nodded. “Me too.”

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Zeke said, “we should get down to business. Would either of you like more tea?”

CHAPTER 6

Lucky needed a walk. After the events of the morning and early afternoon, she wanted fresh air to clear her head, wanted to feel her body moving. It only took her a few minutes to slip out of her Chuck Taylors and into running shoes. Then she grabbed a light fleece and was out the door. She jogged down the steps and took off at a brisk clip when she reached the sidewalk.

Without a conscious decision, she found her steps taking her east, toward the lake. There was something about looking over the water, watching the movement of the waves and the changing reflections of light, that had always soothed her. Lake Michigan was a huge piece of nature on the edge of the city, and being in its presence helped her to think, to relax. And she did think of it as a presence. The lake was a kind of being, always there, always watchful, always changing, yet ever the same, a constant along the city’s eastern boundary. Lucky had come to realize that the lakeshore provided not just a natural haven for her but a kind of spiritual solace as well. It reminded her that there was something larger than herself, larger than the city in which she lived, something that wasn’t made by human hands. As she had walked beside it, swam in it, communed with it over the years, she had also come to realize that it weathered whatever came at it, greeting blue and gray skies, hot summer sun and icy winter winds, with the same acceptance. The lake simply
was
, and because it simply was, it gave her permission simply to be.

That was something she desperately needed right now. Someplace where she didn’t have to worry about G-Ma’s failing memory or her own crazy visions. Whatever was going on with her, being at the lakeshore would help her find a way to deal with it.

At 51st Street, Lucky walked up the ramp to the overpass bridge above Lake Shore Drive. Sometimes she went through the underpass at 55th Street, but today she wanted to be above ground, to have nothing over her but sky, and she wanted to be able to see the lake as soon as possible. She reached the top of the ramp and paused. There it was in all its liquid, blue beauty. Her shoulders instantly relaxed a bit. She stood there long enough for another couple of breaths.

Her steps a little slower now, she headed down the other side of the ramp and turned south toward Promontory Point. There were several other people on the path—walkers, joggers, bikers. Lucky navigated around them while keeping her gaze toward the lake as much as possible. When she reached the Point, a part of Burnham Park that jutted out from the rest of the shoreline, she took the track that looped south. A couple of people—college students, probably—were flying kites in the fall breeze. She watched the primary-colored shapes swirl and loop in the blue sky for a few moments, before her eyes moved on to the leaves that were beginning to show their own more muted yellows and reds. Then she turned back toward the walking path.

After rounding the edge of the Point, she stepped off the path and made her way over to the stone boundary at the edge of the shoreline. She climbed down a couple of levels, and locating a rock that offered the perfect combination of view, sunlight, and breeze, she sat down and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She gazed out at the water and let her mind relax, drift with the lapping waves. No need to worry, to think, to plan. This was exactly what she had needed. Releasing her knees, she leaned back on her arms. The breeze tugged at the long curls she had pulled back into a braid, blowing a loose strand of hair against her cheek. She brushed it away and turned her face toward the sun.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. After a while, the warmth of the sunlight and the lapping of the waves lulled her into a peaceful state somewhere between waking and sleeping. As she cast her sleepy gaze out over the water, her eyes caught and held on something her mind couldn’t quite grasp.

There in the air, hovering a few hundred yards above the lake and at a distance of a mile or so, were two winged figures. Not birds or planes, but winged
human
figures: one with great white wings that glistened in the sunlight, the other with larger wings of deep velvet black. They appeared to be talking—or rather, arguing. They were too far away for her to hear what they were saying, but from the gestures she could make out she gathered their discussion was somewhat heated. She wondered what they were arguing about.

As the thought penetrated her consciousness, she came fully awake and shook her head, blinking to clear her vision. What an odd dream!

But as she looked back at the sky over the water, she saw that the two winged figures had not disappeared. She bit her lip and pinched her arm and then shifted her position on the rock to make sure she was awake. She glanced around her. A young woman was stretched out on a blanket reading a book. A group of teenagers laughed and joked as they climbed over the rocks. An older couple sat on a rock a few paces to her left holding hands and looking out over the water. A few other groups were scattered about, talking and laughing. No one else seemed to have noticed anything amiss in the sky above the lake.

Slowly, she turned back toward the spot where she had seen the winged beings, expecting—hoping for—an empty stretch of sky. No such luck. They were still there, wings and all, and the argument seemed to have escalated. They looked as if they were about to come to blows. Just as she thought the smaller one with white wings was going to throw a punch at the larger, black-winged figure, he drew back and, wings flexing, swooped upward and northward and then disappeared. The black-winged man hovered there for a moment more, and then he moved his wings in what looked like a shrug before winging upward and turning inland toward the city. He didn’t disappear as quickly as his companion, but after a few beats of his powerful wings, he was no longer in sight.

Lucky sat looking after him with a pounding heart. So much for peaceful relaxation and escape from her worries. That was the most startling vision, illusion, mirage, or whatever it was, that she had had yet. She didn’t think her imagination was good enough to have created those two out of thin air, and yet no one around her seemed to have seen anything out of the ordinary. Either she had some magical, mystical powers they didn’t, or she was losing her freaking mind. While she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the latter thought, it seemed more realistic than the former. Sure, she had always wanted to be special, but somehow she didn’t think having angelic visions was the kind of special she might be in line for. Such an ability seemed far too important to be given to some random seventeen-year-old who wasn’t ready to start college and hadn’t yet managed to find a part-time job. Yeah, the happy alternative made much more sense—she was delusional, seeing things; her mind was starting to break apart at the seams.

Lucky felt her breathing accelerate as her heart kicked in her chest, and she forced her thoughts away from that path before she had a full-blown panic attack. She had only recently started seeing the visions, delusions, whatever. She’d just wait and see, give it some time. She’d been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe this was just her mind’s temporary way of coping. If the visions didn’t go away on their own, then she’d have to talk to a doctor, that was all. If the problem turned out to be chemical, then they could probably treat it with medication. There were all kinds of drugs for things like this, she was sure of it.

She rose to her feet, and with a last wistful look across the lake, she turned to climb up over the rocks. She might as well go back home; her peaceful state of mind had been completely disrupted, and there was no hope of corralling her circling thoughts enough to get it back.

Instead of walking back to the bridge over the Drive, this time she took the underpass at 55th Street. Exiting the tunnel, she wound her way north to Harold Washington Park, where she looked for the large nests that belonged to the green monk parakeets that, for some reason, had taken up residence there years ago. She wondered how it had felt for the birds, which were native to somewhere in South America, to settle in this Midwestern city with its long, cold winters. Hyde Park was the only home she had ever known; she had never had to experience being removed from her home and relocated. Instead, she had felt the disruption of losing the people closest to her—first G-Pa and then G-Ma. And now it looked like she might be losing herself as well. All in all, if faced with the choice, she’d much prefer the physical disruption.

Lost in thought, she wandered back toward home. A couple of blocks from her building, she started when she almost stumbled over a dead bird lying on the sidewalk. It was a robin, one wing twisted at an awkward angle and its red breast darkened with a spot of blood. She gently toed it to the edge of the sidewalk, where it would not be a target for careless pedestrians. The image of the bird lay heavy in her heart as she covered the remaining distance to her building door. Before going inside she took a last glance upward. The sun was beginning to go down, and a pale pink tinted the wispy cirrus clouds that feathered the sky.

***

After parking his motorcycle in the private garage of the Gold Coast high rise where he lived, Aidan made his way toward the elevator that would take him several stories up to his condo.

“Mr. Townsend,” the guard nodded a greeting as Aidan passed.

Aidan nodded in return. Normally, he would have joked with the man, but right now he was not in the mood for humor. No, right now, he was worried—and somewhat pissed off. Even though he had accepted Kev’s decision and had decided to rejoin the ranks himself, he was still a little angry at his brother—because he was terrified for him. What did Kev think he was doing anyway, becoming
Ha-Satan?
He’d heard Kev’s arguments for taking on the position, but Aidan still wasn’t sure if he should chalk his brother’s choice up to bravery or insanity. And now he felt the same way about his own decision. He was just as crazy as Kev.

Stepping into the empty elevator, he pushed the button for his floor, grateful he didn’t have to share the compartment with anyone with whom he would feel compelled to make small talk or whose eyes he would have to avoid. After the nearly silent ride upward, the doors swished open at the 12th floor, and Aidan walked down the elegantly appointed hallway to the door to his condominium. He kicked the door shut behind him and shrugged out of his jacket.

When he heard the chattering near his feet, his lips curved upward in a reluctant smile. He looked down at the ferret that was hopping sideways in a play-with-me war dance and chuckled. “Hey, little buddy. Yeah, I missed you, too.”

The ferret skittered across the room to the toy box where he rummaged inside and dug out one of Aidan’s socks. Carrying it back toward Aidan, he shook it as if to say, “Ha, look what I’ve got!” and danced a few hops to the right and then to the left. Aidan laughed. “Harley, you know those are my favorite socks. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

As the ferret danced backward away from him, Aidan followed him through the foyer and into the main room of the condo. Large glass windows overlooked Lake Michigan. The sun was lowering, and the sky was beginning to dim. Soon he would be able to see the lights of the cars far below on Lake Shore Drive, if he stood close enough to the windows. The sound of his booted footsteps echoed in the almost empty room as he walked across the polished marble floor to the liquor cabinet in the corner. After pouring himself a scotch, he moved to the black leather sofa, a small, dark island in a sea of marble tile. Besides the liquor cabinet, the sofa and the glass topped coffee table in front of it, the only furniture the large room boasted was a black baby grand piano that took up much of the opposite end of the room.