The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) (23 page)

Chapter 31

Tristan kicked a clump of grass and walked as slowly as possible as he made his way home. Why did his mom always have to call and interrupt him and Nate during their zombie apocalypse wars? Seriously. It wasn’t even lunchtime.

He jumped across the dry creek bed behind Nate’s house and skirted Mr. Nicoletti’s tool shed.

“Good morning, Tristan!”

He looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun. Mrs. Arnold was out weeding her garden. Again. “Good morning, ma’am.” He turned to keep going and nearly stepped on her stupid yappy Yorkie.

“Boudreaux, get over here!” she called. The five-pound terror stopped barking to move closer to his master, but kept its beady, suspicious eyes trained on Tristan.

He moved on again toward home and what awaited him. His
ex
-Buddy. That’s how he knew his mom was really a heartless harpy out to torture him. Why else would she make him come home on a perfectly good Saturday morning, giving up a day with his best friend and video games, just to be with her and the “Buddy” who’d rejected him?

“This blows.”

He pulled out his iPod and slowed his steps to a snail’s pace, hoping Michael would get sick of waiting around. Why was the big guy coming to see him anyway? Hadn’t he gotten the message yesterday when he dodged him the first time?
Jeez.

The wind whipped his hair and he reached up to swipe it from his eyes. That’s when he realized his eyes were damp. Not from tears. No way. Just the cold wind slapping him in the face. He sniffled against the breeze, cursed the dead battery in his iPod, and picked up his pace. No use avoiding the inevitable.

He rounded the corner of his house wondering if he could talk his mom into dropping him off at the mall to meet Ashley, and stopped short at the sound of Michael’s booming voice. He ducked behind his mom’s big green flowering bushy thing before he was spotted.

“Listen, Miz Campbell, I’m really sorry, but I’ve gotta run. I’ve got an important meeting to get to that I just found out about. I can’t wait anymore. Please tell Tristan I’m sorry I missed him.”

Phew.

“I will,” his mother answered sweetly.

Tristan peeked between the leaves as Michael took a few steps down the driveway and turned back. “And would you please let him know . . .?” He paused. “Please tell him I miss him a lot.”

“Sure,” she said before she quietly went back inside.

But Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off the way Michael’s shoulders sagged and his face took on that puppy dog quality that made him appear sincere. He very nearly stepped out to say ‘hey’ but a movement from Noble’s house caught his attention.

An old, skinny version of Noble came out the door and hobbled down the walkway. He started to go in the opposite direction, but as soon as he caught sight of Michael, a strange expression came over his face and he made an abrupt turn. He went straight up to Michael and stared into his face.
What the . . .?

The two men eyed each other for several seconds in an almost eerie sort of recognition. Finally the old man spoke. “I know you.”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

The man was adamant. “Yes.” He turned his head to take in the space around Michael’s massive body. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.”

Michael backed away a few steps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man stayed stock-still. Confident. “Yes. You do. You’re an angel.”

Tristan unconsciously backed up a step himself. An angel? Did he mean
The Angel
? Who was that old man? And why was he making Michael so nervous? Tristan had an uncomfortable feeling he didn’t really want to know.

Michael fled in his blue bug and headed straight for the Tabernacle church as quickly as he could. How had that man seen his light so easily? Fear nipped at his wings as he contemplated what it might mean if Father thought he’d broken one of the angelic commandments.

Never!

He bypassed several of his brothers and sisters in the parking lot and loped into the church. He scanned the crowd in the lobby, seeking out his mentor, thankful that he’d arrived plenty early.

“Gabriel.” He approached their leader, his nerves catching up with him, making him breathless.

Gabriel’s golden eyes crinkled with immediate warmth, then clouded with concern once he got a good look at him. “What is it, Michael? Has something happened?”

Michael shrugged out of his jacket and took a deep breath as he composed himself. Someone had put on a fresh pot of coffee. “May we speak in private, Brother?”

“Yes, of course.”

Together, they moved to the church library where dust covered every available surface, the inky smell of the book pages filling the intimate space. An obviously much beloved Bible resided in a place of honor on the center table.

Gabriel sat in one of the utilitarian metal chairs. “Tell me what’s on your heart, Michael. Your grave expression concerns me.”

Michael paced several steps, gathering his thoughts, then sat across from his beloved friend. “So, here’s the thing. I think a human . . .” He bowed his head, unsure how to continue.

“A human
what
?” Gabriel asked, his voice gentle.

Michael peered up, his eyes swimming with the frustrating things humans called ‘tears.’ “I believe a human saw my light.” He waited a beat. “Without my intention or Father’s possession.”

Gabriel tilted his head. “One of your love detail assignments?”

“No.” That made it even more perplexing. And scary.

“Hmmm.”

“So, did I somehow breach the Commandments? Will I be punished? Kicked off Love Detail? Wings clipped? Cast out?” His mind whirled with all sorts of terrifying thoughts.

Gabriel held out a hand. “Slow down. Who was this human, and what
exactly
was said to frighten you so?”

Michael had a hard time slowing down as he tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his wings clipped. Would it be quick and mercifully done? Like pulling off a Band-Aid? Or a slow, painful, bloody process? He suddenly felt woozy.

“Michael?”

He glanced back up. “Yes?”

“Who saw your light?”

“An old man. Noble’s grandfather maybe? He came from his home and looked an awful lot like him, but I didn’t stick around for a formal introduction.”

Gabriel shifted, sending up a plume of dust motes. His brow furrowed in concentration. “And what did he say to you, Michael? Think carefully, this is important.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember over the pounding of his head and heart. All he wanted was for this to go away and for things to go back the way they were. Why did Father have to give angels light anyway? “He said he saw my light and he knew I was an angel.”

“That’s it?”

A tap sounded at the door and Uriel popped his head in. The thin blond with wire-rimmed glasses looked like some kind of surfer-librarian hybrid, and though he was an unusual new addition to their love crew from Crossovers, he’d proven himself after an initial bumble.

“Hey, guys.” He smiled. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He turned his questioning gaze to Gabriel. “Listen, after the meeting wraps up we were going to meet up with some guys from Prophecy at Dreamboats for burgers. Wanna join us?”

Dreamboats.
Michael only heard the murmur of Gabriel’s response as something sliced through his memory. He slapped his hand down on the table, startling both of the other men.

“Dreams!” he declared. “He said he’d dreamt of me.” His gaze darted between them both. “Does that mean anything?” he asked with a hitch in his voice. “Tell me it does.”

Uriel cleared his throat while Gabriel shot him a thoughtful look.

Michael glanced at Uriel, still standing in the doorway, and implored, “What? What’s up with the dreams?”

Uriel’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “I have no idea what you two are discussing in here, but if you are asking me for
my
input . . .”

Gabriel made a go-ahead motion with his hand. “You were on Crossovers for a long time, Uriel. Your insight would be valuable to Michael, I’m sure. Please.”

Michael furrowed his brows, thoroughly confused. Nothing in his Love Detail training had prepared him for this and he had the distinct impression he was about to be schooled by the newbie.

Uriel approached and ran a nervous hand through his thin ponytail. “Well.” He glanced at Gabriel before giving Michael his full attention. “In a nutshell? When a human is close to death, the veil between our two worlds is—what’s the best way to say it?—thinner? So, many of them, if they are spiritually receptive, can see our light. And, a select few even get dream visits if it’s part of Father’s plan for them.”

“Dying?” Michael choked out, disbelieving.

“Yes. Dying.” He offered a crooked grin. “And, occasionally young children see us, too. They’re the closest to the veil, having just come to Earth from home, you know.”

Of course, it made perfect sense.

But it also made zero sense at this critical juncture in his assignment. Talk about a monkey wrench in the works.

Michael turned pleading eyes to Gabriel. “Even if all this is true, if Noble’s grandfather is dying and he can see me for what I am, what am I supposed to do with this? He’s not part of my assignment.” Not to mention what he could do to ruin it.

Gabriel’s eyes took on that supernatural quality that happened when he was prayerful. “Isn’t he?”

As Michael left the meeting that night and reflected on Gabriel’s words, a startling thought occurred to him. Perhaps, as he focused on the pain of losing Tristan, Father had been answering his prayers after all. Because who knew better how to heal Noble’s heavy heart then the One who’d created it?

Chapter 32

Noble flipped through the magazine, trying his best to ignore Ariel. It was bad enough that Jed had let her switch out his snoozefest elevator Muzak for infernal Christmas music, but he was letting her decorate the studio, too. The place looked like an evergreen farm and tinsel factory had bred then vomited their offspring all over the walls. Hideous.

Kyle stepped out of Jed’s office, her face automatically lighting up like a kid on . . . well, on Christmas morning. “Oh, Ariel! It’s perfect!”

Ariel grinned in return. “I’m glad you like it. I was going to make us some peppermint tea later, too.”

Kyle’s hand moved to her slightly rounded tummy. “If you have a pastry of any kind to go with that, you’ll be my new best friend.”

Jed left his office, came up behind his wife and rested his hand on hers. Finally, someone to put a stop to all this nonsense. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he eyed Ariel’s ‘handiwork.’ “Huh,” he said. “Never seen it like this.”

Damn straight it’d never looked like this. Now he’d tell her to take it down.

“But I like it.”

Kyle giggled and leaned back into Jed’s arms.

Noble wanted to gag. He picked up his bomber jacket and shrugged it on. “I’m heading out for some air.”

The merry threesome glanced his way with goofy grins on their faces. “Sure, dude,” Jed said.

Noble shoved out the door, making the annoying bell above chime as a blast of the cool night air smacked him in the face. He zipped up his jacket and tucked his hands deep into the lined pockets as he wandered down the strip walkway to nowhere in particular. The Little Angels Daycare sign lit up, its neon cherub fighting for space with all the children’s finger-painted artwork lining the front window.

He glanced over as a car whirred past blaring its horn and noticed that a fine, misty drizzle had started to dust the air like crystallized diamonds. He’d almost swear the temperature dropped twenty degrees as the mist thickened to clingy condensation that he could taste along with the Italian spices carried on the air from Papa Turoni’s next door.

A blue Beamer pulled in and parked. A young couple got out and entered the studio. Jed’s laughter carried on the breeze when the door opened, then shut, leaving the night silent. Silent and heavy. Like his heart.

He turned around at the crunch of footfalls on the gravel behind him. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched, but he didn’t turn away. As much as he wanted to, he stood his ground.

The two men stood facing each other for several heartbeats.

“What are you doing here?” Noble finally asked, carefully schooling his face to give nothing away to the emotion roiling within him.

He had to hand it to the old man, he held his own. “I told you, I wasn’t going to give up, Baptiste. I want you to forgive me. Have you thought about it?”

He eyed his grandfather. “No. And the name’s Noble.”

The older man dipped his head once. “Yes, fine. Noble.” He took a step forward. “Old habits are hard to break.”

Yes, they were. Including hating someone your whole life. He glanced back toward the studio. “I have to get back to work.”

“Don’t go.”

Something in the old man’s tone stopped him short. It was more than a simple plea. It was a cry for mercy. And though Noble’s heart was pretty battered and black, he wasn’t a heartless bastard. He waited.

“What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”

Noble sighed and watched his breath carry on the air in a gust of white. “There is nothing.” He paused. “I’m sorry.” And for once, he meant it.

His grandfather nodded. “Well, I’ll keep trying. Maybe you’ll change your mind. After all, if Mrs. Montgomery’s family could find it in their hearts to forgive this old man for his sins, then I’m hoping you can, too.”

Noble’s breath stuck in his throat. Mrs. Montgomery’s family had forgiven him? When? How?

He must’ve seen the questions in his eyes. “I wrote to them just like I did to you all those months. Except they wrote back.” He offered a soft smile. “They’re nice people. They accepted my apology and said they had forgiven me.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, it wasn’t easy on either end. But, yes, just like that.” He waited a beat. “What I did wasn’t right and I can’t bring her back. But I’ve learned from my mistakes and we can all move on from here.”

A couple more cars drove in, slicing the night air with their headlights. College kids piled out, filling the silence with their loud banter and laughter. They divided up between the studio and the pizza parlor, leaving Noble alone with his grandfather and his tumultuous thoughts. Bad combo.

The drizzle began to beat down in earnest. Somewhere a drum beat steadily at a furious pace. Wait, that was his heart.

The studio door swung open. Jed popped his head out. “Noble! Get your ass in here! I’m up to my eyeballs in clients all of a sudden.”

He refocused on his grandfather. “I-I’ve gotta go.”

“I understand.”

Noble turned away. Just as his hand gripped the studio door, his grandfather called out, “There’s one more thing you need to know, son.”

He closed his eyes. “What?”

“I’m dying.”

Noble sat with Jed at Shorty’s scarred wooden bar and tipped back his beer bottle for a long pull. It’d been way too long since they’d been out for a guy’s drinking night. Since before Jed got married, to be exact. Too bad he wasn’t in much of a mood for ‘getting lit or getting laid’, as used to be their mantra.

As he eyed his best and oldest friend, he saw his chance. “Can I ask you something?”

Jed nodded and took a sip of his own drink. “Shoot, man.”

But just as a thousand words came to mind to convince Jed to let him buy into Gentry’s and what an asset he could be to the business, a thousand and one doubts stopped him.
Damn it!
He glanced into his friend’s open, nonjudgmental eyes, and totally chickened out. “You ready to be a dad?”

Jed grinned. “Shit, yes. More than ready.” He turned his eyes momentarily down to the bar. “I’ve been ready.”

Noble didn’t know what to say to that, so he nodded and turned his attention to the game.

“So, dude.” Jed shot a pointed glare his way after a few minutes. “What gives? You were pissy all night after I called you in from talking with that old guy.”

He tipped back the rest of his beer and nodded for another before even thinking about answering. “Old guy was my grandfather.”

Jed stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. “No fuckin’ shit?”

“No fuckin’ shit.”

“So, wait a minute. When did he get out of the slammer?”

He shrugged. “A couple weeks ago?”

Jed nearly choked on his beer. “You mean to tell me your gramps has been out of jail for a couple of
weeks
and you’re just
now
telling me about it? Why the hell is that?”

He shrugged then was distracted when a group of slightly inebriated football fans behind them cheered when their team scored. Then a perfume cloud drifted up next to Noble just before its owner, a busty redhead, followed. “Hello, boys,” she purred.

He glanced over. “Hey.”

Her heavily lined eyes skimmed Jed, then settled on Noble with hungry interest. “Great game, huh? Go Cowboys.”

“Actually, we’re Redskins fans.” Jed stepped in, earning himself a hot glare.

Noble tipped his bottle in her direction. “Enjoy the rest of the game.”

She huffed off and they continued to drink in silence, as they often did. It was probably the best thing about their friendship. They’d perfected the “don’t need to talk” thing. But, Noble knew he’d eventually have to spill it. And, so he did. “He wants me to forgive him.”

Jed glanced over and listened, letting Noble say as much or as little as he wanted. And suddenly he couldn’t hold the words back. So, as he concentrated on peeling the label on his beer bottle to keep his hands busy, he kept talking. “Ain’t gonna happen.” He shook his head. “I don’t give a flyin’ rat’s ass if Mrs. Montgomery’s family
says
they forgive him. How can you forgive something like that? How can you forgive someone who fucked up your whole life?”

Jed offered no fake platitudes or answers. Just his presence, which was healing in and of itself because he was the only person in this world who knew, really knew, his pain. And that made all the difference.

Noble idly wondered why his eyes suddenly felt damp. “How can you just erase the past like a giant chalkboard? That’s impossible.” He blinked against the sudden burning behind his eyes. “Dying or not, it’s fucking impossible.”