Something Deadly This Way Comes (18 page)

Then I glanced up as Grace's light doubled in brightness.

“I'm . . . sorry.”

“For what?” I said, and Barnabas cleared his throat for us to hurry up.

Josh smiled sickly at me. “I wanted this to work. I know it meant a lot to you.”

My stomach hurt, and I couldn't look at him. “See you at home,” I said, and Barnabas tugged me to him.

Biting my lip so I wouldn't cry, I leaned back into Barnabas as his wings enfolded me, and with a sudden feeling of falling, the bus depot melted away and we were gone.

My feet slipped off Barnabas's,
and I gasped, clutching at his arm wrapped around me as my toes dangled in the wind. The world shifted beneath us, wheeling as an updraft buoyed us higher. I was safer in Barnabas's grip than I would be at home in my own room. More so, probably.

“I've got you,” he murmured in my ear, a mix of annoyance and reassurance that only Barnabas could manage. Flying was a lot scarier now that hitting the ground held real consequence. I still had the bruises from hitting the seat belt. I didn't need to add to them.

“I trust you,” I said, squinting down at the desert below. “It's me I'm worried about.”

He said nothing, but his flight smoothed into a slow spiral down. It looked like he was headed for the modest home below us. Ron's, presumably. It was the same color as the tan, almost pink sand. There was nearly no vegetation, either next to the house or in the surrounding area. I didn't see any roads at all leading up to it, and no sign of people anywhere. Just a low single-story adobe home amid the desert dirt and water-cut gullies.

It was quiet and dim; the sun wasn't up yet, but it was close. The wind was a steady, dry force, blowing my hair first one way, then another as Barnabas circled to a pink-tiled patio that opened seamlessly to the desert. My nerves were ragged. I didn't know what was going to happen in the next five minutes, but it was tearing me up that I might not have a chance to even say good-bye. They'd let me say good-bye, wouldn't they?

I was pretty sure I was meeting with the seraphs for one of three reasons: one, I stole some of Tammy's soul; two, because I convinced the rising light timekeeper to help me circumvent a guardian angel; or three, to give them my amulet back and renounce my timekeeper status because I got my body back. But the seraph had said I could do that if I
chose
to. What if I
chose
to do something different now?

Maybe we hadn't succeeded with Tammy. Maybe we had. Wasn't it worth spending a little time to find out? And if it became certain that she would never change, then I would scythe her down myself.

Oh, God. Could I do that?

Barnabas set us down with a gentle step-hop, and I let out my held breath. His grip on me loosened, and I turned. I knew I had a scared look on my face, but he managed to muster up a weak smile for me. “I'll see you later,” Barnabas said, and I reached for his sleeve, keeping him from going more than a step.

“You're not staying?” My voice quavered, and I hated it.

Sighing, he dropped his head, then looked back up at me. “I can't. I have to leave. I hope . . . I hope I see you later.”

They were going to take my amulet from me. I knew it. And my hand grabbed it, useless as it was at this point. “Remember me,” I breathed.

Barnabas cupped my chin, his thumb wiping away a tear that had somehow leaked out. “If they let me,” he said. “You were a very good timekeeper, Madison.”

Barnabas's hand dropped. Eyes fixed to mine, he backed up. His wings made one fast downward push, and he was airborne. I felt alone and miserable.

He'd been told to leave, and he left. Angels were made to serve, Barnabas had said. But if one served unwillingly, wasn't it slavery?

A bitter resolve pushed out my fear as I watched his silhouette spin, turn, and vanish. Sure, I had made the deal to give the amulet back once I had my body, but things had changed. I—no,
we
—had proved that a soul's fate was not fixed, but that it could be turned back to a better path. I wanted my body, my amulet, and a chance to really see if this could work, and as I turned to look at Ron's house, I promised myself that I wasn't going to let anything go without a fight.

Arms wrapped around myself, I looked in the wide patio doors at a huge, tiled living room done in tasteful browns, taupes, and pale pinks and oranges. It looked very desert-ish, so unlike my green suburbia. No wonder Ron wore desert robes; the sand must get into everything.

Going up and knocking didn't seem right—after all, the sun wasn't up yet—and it wasn't like I wanted to talk to Ron. “Where are you?” I whispered, looking up into the pale blue sky that almost looked white. No seraphs.

I went to sit on the waist-high wall surrounding most of the patio, angling so that I could see the house and the rising sun both. I'd never been to the desert, and it was breathtaking in its open beauty. The horizon was so far away, the colors melting into themselves like watercolors. The wind blew into me as if it had never brushed against anything ever before. I could feel a hum in my veins, and I wondered if it was because the ground was holy. It would have to be for a seraph to set foot on it. My island, too, was holy.

A thump on the glass door shattered my introspective mood, and I spun, chest clenching when I saw Ron, furious as he struggled to get the door to slide open. “You!” he shouted, his bony, bare, ugly feet slapping as he came out. “Paul is gone. You're here. What have you done with him?” His pace slowed as he noticed my new, reaper-black clothes.

I slid from the wall and tugged my oversize tunic straight. “Hi, Ron. Nice place you have. Must be a bitch getting out here with no roads. Or is that to keep people from leaving once they get here?”

I gasped, backpedaling as he reached for me, giving me a shake with his small hands on my shoulders. I was too taken aback to try to stop him, and besides, I thought I deserved it.

“The seraphs told me to come here,” I said, teeth rattling. “Not my idea. I'm waiting for them! Get your . . . hands off!”

Ron let go, backing up as he tried to guess if I was telling the truth. His eyes narrowed in the rising sun, he looked at me. “You're alive,” he said suddenly, and his gaze dropped to my amulet.

“Yeah,” I said in a huff. “I found my body. Thanks for adding to the misery.”

“I'm not going to adjust your amulet if that's why you're here,” Ron said haughtily, backing up even more and slowly making a 360 with his gaze on the skies. “Where is Paul?”

Sniffing, I refused to let him know how miserable I was. Adjust my amulet? Adjust it right out of my hands, maybe. “Careful,” I mocked, turning to look at the rising sun. “Someone might think you care about him.”

“You little . . . girl,” Ron spat, and I turned back around, hearing the hatred in his voice. “Where is Paul?! He's changed his amulet's signature. I don't know how, but he did. I can't find him.”

My eyebrows rose. I hadn't told him how to change resonances, so his amulet must have changed on its own—because he helped me, the dark, save someone from the light. I didn't even try to hide my smug look, and Ron's look became choleric.

“You didn't!” Ron exclaimed. “How
dare
you interfere with my own student!”

“Why not? You interfered with me, and I was Kairos's student,” I said, arms over my chest. “Well, I would have been his student if he hadn't been trying to
kill
me! Paul is helping me. We're saving souls.”

“You are wrong, Madison.” Standing stiffly before me, Ron fisted his hands, his eyes going blue for an instant as he touched the divine. “You cannot change a person's fate after their soul dies.”

“You can if you catch them soon enough, before it dies completely!” I shouted, hearing my voice become lost in the desert, shredded by the wind. “What is your problem? You're the one who believes in choice. Or is it that you believe in choice only when it's done your way?”

Ron paced to me, and I stood firm, head even and lips pressed defiantly. “What did you do?!” he demanded.

“Nothing.” I backed up a step, not liking him that close. My amulet wasn't working at all, and if I died before the seraph got here . . . well, who knew if it would listen to me, anyway. “Paul helped me find Tammy since my connection with my amulet is less than it should be. We flashed forward,” I said, and Ron's face went gray. “It wasn't happy-happy, Ron. We both saw what happens to the people you save with guardian angels who don't manage to rekindle their souls. Paul wasn't too thrilled about it. I wasn't, either. No wonder the dark timekeepers kill people to prevent that. I'm starting to think they are right. No one deserves to be eaten by black wings. Their entire existence erased like they never existed. When were you planning on telling him? When you were on your deathbed and you'd brainwashed him into being a second you?”

“You turned him dark . . .” It was a breathy whisper, but I could see the tension in him building.

“I did not!” I stated firmly, but I wondered. “We saw the truth! And the truth sucks!”

“You turned him dark!” he shouted, face going red. “He's my acolyte! You are toxic, Madison, poisoning everything you touch!”

“We were trying to save someone!” I shouted back, still holding myself like I was afraid. “Guardian angels are not guarding the living. They are guarding the dead in the vain hope that they will somehow rekindle their souls. People can't change unless they see the good and the bad. The light and the dark. The system doesn't work anymore!”

But he wasn't listening, his bony feet slapping the gritty pavers as he paced, his fury needing an outlet. “He was my student and you turned him against me!”

I took a breath to yell at him some more, but it came out in a gasp as he snatched his amulet, and a brilliant sword glittered into existence.

“Hey!” I shrieked, stepping backward to get space between us, but I stepped off the patio and into the soft sand. My arms pinwheeled and I went down. My air huffed out, and I could do nothing as he bore down on me, sword gleaming in the new sun.

I widened my eyes, and my breath sucked in as the sword glittered. And then Ron swung, his sword catching the first rays of the new day.

I'm going to die. Again,
I thought, not knowing what that meant anymore. But a matte-black sword swung to block Ron's. The two met in a ping that was more feeling than sound, and I felt dizzy at the bubble of energy that was released, pressing out and away to color the sun and stir an echo from the sky itself. The sword above me looked as immutable as time, soaking in the light. My eyes struggled to shift, and I blinked at the seraph above me. I couldn't tell if it was the same one as before or not, the white glow hurting my eyes. Its face was terrible with anger, short of understanding and patience.

“Give me that,” the seraph demanded, snatching Ron's sword from his slack grip.

Ron's sword in the seraph's hand made a ping, cracking from the hilt to the point. Ron stumbled back, his amulet on his chest glowing briefly before it went out. My lips parted at the new crack in the stone, leaking a silver line of infinity. Seeing it, Ron covered it, shamed.

But he was still angry.

I sat up at the seraph's feet, stunned. That awful black sword was gone, and the seraph was extending a hand to help me rise. Watching my hand move as if in a dream, I put my fingers out. It was a perfect hand, too strong to be feminine, but too thin to be masculine. And as I put mine into it, I could feel a divine strength humming, tightly leashed.

“Chronos? Is there an issue you wish to discuss?” the high angel said as it drew me effortlessly to my feet.

“She . . .” he stammered, eyes rising from his sword still in the seraph's hand. “She poisoned the rising light timekeeper against me!”

“Mmmm.”

It was a slow sound, and I swear, I heard thunder rumble against the distant mountains, the seraph's thoughts echoing between heaven and earth. My pulse was fast, and I backed away from both of them, finding the patio and not knowing what to do with my hands. It had saved me, but saved me for what? They were going to take my amulet away.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, and both Ron and I took several prudent steps back as the angel moved to stand on the pavers as well. It was getting easier to look at it, and I snuck glances, its beauty still hurting me somehow.

“You showed Paul the truth of the guardian angels,” the seraph said, looking too kindly at me for me to bear. “They are rejoicing that their torment finally be understood, and your praises are being sung whether anything changes or not. Paul made the choice he was fated to. Rest easy.”

“That's not it,” I said, and Ron made a frustrated noise.

“She turned him against me!” he protested. “My own student!”

I jumped when the angel abruptly looked at Ron. I hadn't even seen him move. Ron, too, had closed his mouth, scared. “You turned him against you yourself with your hoarding of knowledge in fear,” the seraph said. “Be still for a moment. I want to know why Madison sorrows, and while here on earth, I can only do one thing at a time. It's bothersome. How do you exist able to do only one thing at a time, see one outcome from a thing instead of many?”

The seraph turned to me, concern pinching its brow to make it look more beautiful yet. “Madison, why do you sorrow?”

I couldn't look up, and I felt like I was before God himself. “I took some of Tammy's soul,” I admitted. “In the flash forward.”

“Abomination!” Ron all but hissed, and I agreed with him.

My head came up, and I squinted at the seraph, pleading, “The memory was so beautiful. I didn't want the black wings to eat it and have it be gone forever. I'd give it back if I could. Can you give it back to her for me?” Only now could I meet the angel's eyes, and I blinked at the understanding, no, the pleased expression it wore. “I gave them a part of my own soul instead, and they didn't know the difference,” I added more confidently. “I couldn't let that much joy be forgotten by . . . everyone.”

“Mmmm.” Again the thunder rumbled in a clear blue sky, and the sun rose higher. “You claimed her with ancient law, giving an equal sacrifice for her soul. There is no need to make repairs,” it said, touching my shoulder in support, and I felt lifted, buoyed. “Memories grow with the sharing, as do souls. You took a memory of the future, not the present. She still has it. There is a long life for her now with much sorrow, and memories too beautiful to forget are what sustain us. The trick . . .” The seraph hesitated, its lips quirking in what had to be humor. “. . . is to recognize them.”