Halo

by Alexandra Adornetto

  “You’re a good editor,” he commented. “Thanks for doing it.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  “Seriously, I owe you one. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I said.

  “Yes, I do. By the way, when’s your birthday?”

  I was taken aback by the question.

  “I don’t like presents,” I said quickly, in case he got any ideas.

  “Who said anything about presents? I’m just asking for your date of birth.”

  “Thirtieth of February,” I said, throwing out the first date that came to mind.

  Xavier raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I panicked. What had I said wrong? I ran through the months in my head and realised my mistake. Oops—there were only twenty-eight days in February!

  “I mean thirtieth of April,” I corrected and grinned sheepishly.

  Xavier laughed. “You’re the first person I’ve ever known to forget her own birthday.”

  Even when I made a fool of myself, my conversations with Xavier were always engaging.

  He could talk about the most mundane of things and still manage to make them fascinating. I loved the sound of his voice and would have been happy listening to him read names from a phone book. Was this a symptom of falling in love, I wondered?

  As Xavier scribbled notes in the margins of his speech, I bit into my roast vegetable focaccia and made a face as a strangely bitter flavor assaulted my taste buds. Gabriel had introduced us to most food products, but there were still plenty of things I had yet to try. I lifted the top cautiously and peered at the substance smeared under the vegetables.

  “What’s that?” I asked Xavier.

  “I believe it goes by the name of eggplant,” he replied. “Sometimes called aubergine in fancy restaurants.”

  “No, the other stuff.” I pointed at the layer of crumbly, green paste.

  “Dunno, pass it over.” I watched him take a tentative bite and chew thoughtfully. “Pesto,” he announced.

  “Why does everything have to be so complicated,” I said irritably, “including sandwiches?”

  “You’re so right,” Xavier mused. “Pesto does make life much more complicated.” He laughed and took another bite, pushing his own untouched salad wrap toward me.

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “Eat your lunch, I can cope with pesto.”

  But he refused to return my sandwich despite my whining. I gave up and ate his instead, enjoying the familiarity between us.

  “Don’t feel bad,” he said. “I’m a guy, I’ll eat anything.”

  On our way to class after lunch, we came across a commotion in the corridor. People were talking agitatedly about some kind of accident. No one was too sure who was involved, but students were moving en masse toward the main doors, where a crowd had gathered outside around something or somebody. I sensed human pain and felt a wave of panic rise in my chest.

  I followed Xavier through the crowd, which seemed to part instinctively to let the school captain through. Once outside my eyes found the shattered glass littering the pavement, and I followed the trail to a car with its hood completely smashed in, smoke curling from the engine. There had been a head-on collision between two seniors. One of the drivers was standing by his car, looking dazed and disoriented. Thankfully, he seemed to have suffered only minor scratches. My gaze shifted from his mangled Volkswagen to linger on the car now entangled with it. I realized with a jolt that the other driver was still inside, slumped in the seat, her head lolling against the steering wheel. Even from where I stood, I could see that she was seriously hurt.

  The crowd watched with open mouths, unsure what was required of them. Only Xavier managed to keep his wits about him. He vanished from my side to call for help and alert the teachers.

  Not entirely sure what I should be doing, acting more on impulse than anything else, I moved toward the car, coughing as thick smoke filled my throat. The driver’s door had been crushed from the impact and had almost completely detached from the body of the vehicle. Ignoring the hot metal that dug into my palms, I pulled it free and froze when I saw the girl close up. Blood was flowing freely from a cut on her forehead, her mouth was open, but her eyes were closed and her body was limp.

  Even in Heaven I had always felt faint watching scenes involving bloodshed unfold on earth, but today I hardly thought about it. I looped my arms under the girl’s shoulders and, as carefully as I could, began to pull her from the wreckage. She was heavier than me, so I was grateful when two well-built boys, still in their gym gear, sprinted over to help. We laid the girl on the pavement at a safe distance from the smoking vehicle.

  I realized that was the extent to which the boys could help. They both kept looking nervously over their shoulders, waiting for assistance to arrive. But there wasn’t time to wait.

  “Keep the crowd back,” I instructed them and turned my attention to the girl. I knelt down and placed two fingers against her neck, as Gabriel had once shown me. I couldn’t find a pulse. If she was breathing at all, it wasn’t obvious through any visible sign. In my head I called out for Gabriel to come and help me. There wasn’t a chance I could get through this on my own. I was already losing the battle. The warm blood oozing from the gash on her forehead had become matted in her hair. There were bluish rings under her eyes and she was deathly pale. I suspected internal injuries but couldn’t put my finger on exactly what they were.

  “Hold on,” I whispered close to her ear. “Help is coming.”

  I cradled her head, sticky blood staining my hands, and focused on sending my healing energy through her. I knew I had only minutes to help her. Her body had almost surrendered the fight, and I could feel her soul trying to detach itself. Soon she would be looking at her inert body from outside it.

  I concentrated so hard I felt I too might lose consciousness. I fought back the light-headedness and focused even more deeply. I imagined a power source surging from a deep well within me, traveling through my blood and arteries to charge my fingertips and flow into the body on the ground. As I felt the power draining from me, I thought that maybe, just maybe, the girl might survive.

  I heard Gabriel before I saw him, urging the crowd to let him through. In the presence of authority the students breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had been absolved of further responsibility. Whatever happened now was out of their hands.

  While Xavier went to the aid of the other driver, Gabriel knelt beside me and used his power to close the girl’s wounds. He worked quickly and quietly, feeling for the broken ribs, the punctured lung, the twisted wrist that had snapped as easily as a twig. By the time the paramedics arrived, the girl’s breathing had returned to normal although she hadn’t regained consciousness. I noticed that Gabriel had left her minor cuts unhealed, probably to prevent arousing suspicion.

  As the paramedics were lifting the girl onto a stretcher, a cluster of her hysterical friends rushed over to us.

  “Grace!” one cried. “Oh my God, is she okay?”

  “Gracie! What happened? Can you hear us?”

  “She’s unconscious,” Gabriel said, “but she’s going to be fine.”

  Although the girls continued to sob and cling to one another, I could see that Gabriel had calmed them.

  After directing the students back to class, Gabriel took me by the arm and led me up the front steps, where Ivy was waiting for us. Xavier, who had not followed the others inside, ran over when he saw my face.

  “Beth, are you all right?” His walnut-colored hair was ruffled by the wind, and his tension showed by the veins pulsing in his neck.

  I wanted to answer, but I was struggling for breath and the world was starting to spin. I sensed that Gabriel was anxious for us to be alone.

  “You’d better get to class,” he said to Xavier, adopting his teacher voice.

  “I’m waiting for Beth,” Xavier replied. His eyes swept over my untidy hai
r, the bloodstained sleeves of my shirt, and my fingers clutching at Gabriel’s arm.

  “She just needs a minute,” Gabriel said more coldly. “You can check on her later.”

  Xavier stood his ground.

  “I’m not leaving unless Beth tells me to.”

  I wondered what kind of look was on Gabriel’s face, but when I twisted my head to see, the steps I was standing on felt as though they were about to give way. Or was it my knees that were giving way? Black spots appeared across my field of vision, and I leaned against Gabriel more heavily.

  The last thing I remembered was saying Xavier’s name and seeing him take a step toward me before I fainted quietly in Gabriel’s arms.

  I woke up to the familiarity of my room. I was curled under the patchwork quilt on my bed, and I knew the balcony doors were not completely shut because I could feel a breeze carrying the briny scent of the ocean inside. I lifted my head and focused on comforting details like the peeling paint on the window-sill and the pockmarked floorboards softened by the amber glow of dusk. My pillow was soft and smelled of lavender. I buried my face in it, reluctant to stir. Then I saw the time on my alarm clock—seven p.m.! I’d been asleep for hours. My limbs felt like lead. I panicked momentarily when I couldn’t move my legs before realizing that Phantom was lying across them.

  He yawned and stretched when he saw that I was awake. I stroked his silky head, and he looked at me with his doleful, colorless eyes.

  “Come on,” I murmured. “It’s not your bedtime yet.”

  I must have sat up too suddenly because a wave of fatigue hit me like an avalanche and I nearly fell back again. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to muster the effort required to stand. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to slip on my robe and stumbled downstairs, where Schubert’s “Ave Maria” was playing in the background. I sank into the nearest chair. Gabriel and Ivy must have been in the kitchen; the smell of garlic and ginger filled the room. They stopped what they were doing and came out to greet me. Ivy was wiping her hands on a dish towel, and they were both smiling. This took me by surprise as it felt like a long time since we’d been on anything more than civil terms.

  “How are you feeling?” Ivy’s cool, slender fingers stroked my head.

  “Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” I replied honestly. “I really don’t know what happened. I was feeling fine.”

  “Surely you know why you fainted, Bethany,” Gabriel said.

  I gave him a blank look. “I’ve been eating properly and taking all your advice.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with that,” my brother said. “It was because you saved that girl’s life.”

  “That sort of thing can really take it out of you,” Ivy added.

  I almost laughed aloud. “But, Gabe, you saved that girl’s life,” I said.

  Ivy looked at our brother to indicate that he should explain and discreetly moved off to set the table for dinner.

  “I only healed her physical wounds,” Gabriel said. I gave him a stupefied look, wondering if this was his idea of a joke.

  “What do you mean only? That’s what constitutes saving someone. If a person gets shot and you remove the bullet and heal the wound then you’ve saved them.”

  “No, Bethany, that girl was going to die. If you hadn’t given her your life force, nothing I could have done would have saved her. Closing wounds can’t bring someone back once they’ve reached that point. You spoke to her; it was your voice that called her back and your strength that kept her soul from leaving her body.”

  I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. I had saved a human life? I hadn’t even known I had the power to do that. I’d believed the extent of my powers on earth to be only good for soothing bad tempers or helping retrieve lost belongings. How was it possible that I had found it in me to save a girl on the brink of death? Power over the sea, over the sky, over human life, that was Gabriel’s gift. It had never occurred to me that my powers might be greater than I was aware of.

  Ivy looked across at me, her eyes bright with praise. “Congratulations,” she said. “This is a big step for you.”

  “But how come I feel so bad now?” I asked, suddenly alerted to my aching body.

  “The effort of reviving someone can be very debilitating,” Ivy explained, “especially the first couple of times. It sends your human form into shock. It won’t always be like that; you’ll grow accustomed to it and eventually you’ll be able to recover more quickly.”

  “You mean I’ll be able to do it again?” I asked. “It wasn’t a fluke?”

  “If you’ve done it once, you can do it again,” Gabriel answered. “All angels have the ability, but it develops with practice.”

  Despite my exhaustion I felt suddenly buoyant and ate my dinner with appetite. Afterward Gabriel and Ivy refused my offer of help with the cleaning up. Instead Ivy steered me onto the deck and pushed me into the hammock.

  “You’ve had a very tiring day,” she said.

  “But I hate not being useful.”

  “You can help me in a minute. I have a whole lot of hats and scarves to knit for the thrift shop.” Ivy always found time to connect with the community, through small earthly tasks. “Sometimes it’s the little things that count most,” she said.

  “You know, the whole idea of those places is that you donate your old clothes, not make new ones,” I teased.

  “Well, we haven’t been here long enough to have old things,” replied Ivy. “And I have to give them something; I’d feel just awful if I didn’t. Besides, I can whip them up in no time.”

  I sat in the hammock with a mohair blanket around my shoulders, trying to process the events of the afternoon. In one way, I felt I understood the purpose of our mission better than before, but at the same time I’d never been more confused. Today had been a prime example of what I should be doing—protecting the sanctity of life. Instead I’d been spending my time absorbed in a teenage obsession with a boy who didn’t really know anything about me. Poor Xavier, I thought. He would never be able to understand me, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t his fault. He could only know as much as I allowed him to know. I was so busy trying to keep up my façade that I hadn’t considered that sooner or later it would all have to come undone. Xavier was tied to a human life and an existence I could never be part of. The satisfaction I felt at my success that afternoon faded, and I was left feeling strangely numb.

  13

  His Kiss

  Sunday mass was the only time I felt I could truly reconnect with my home. Kneeling in the pews and listening to the chords of “Agnus Dei” brought me back to my former self. There was an airy tranquility inside the church that couldn’t be found anywhere else. It was cool and calm, like being at the bottom of the ocean, and I always felt that as soon as I stepped through its doors, I was in a safe place. Ivy and I were altar servers on Sunday, and Gabriel helped Father Mel in giving out Holy Communion. After the service, we always stayed behind to chat with him.

  “The congregation is growing,” he observed one day. “Every week, I see new faces.”

  “Maybe people are starting to realize what’s important in life,” Ivy said.

  “Or maybe they are following your example.” Father Mel smiled.

  “The Church should need no advocates,” Gabriel said. “It should speak for itself.”

  “It doesn’t matter what brings people here,” said Father Mel. “It only matters what they find here.”

  “All we can do is lead them in the right direction,” Ivy agreed.

  “Indeed, we cannot force them to have faith,” Father Mel said. “But we can demonstrate its great power.”

  “And we can pray for them,” I said.

  “Of course,” Father Mel winked at me. “And something tells me the Lord will listen when you call.”

  “He listens to us no more than to others,” Gabriel said. I could tell he was concerned about giving away too much. Although we’d never so much as hinted to Father Mel about w
here we came from, there was a tacit understanding between us. It was only natural, I thought. He was a priest—he spent all his time trying to connect with the forces above. “We can only hope that He will bless this town,” Gabriel added.

  Father Mel’s blue eyes flickered over us all. “I believe He already has.”

  The next day Xavier had a sports meeting at morning break, so I spent the time listening to Molly and Taylah talk animatedly about a clothing outlet just out of town. There they could buy fake designer labels that looked so authentic no one would guess they weren’t the “real deal.” When they asked me to go with them, I was so preoccupied that I agreed without hesitation. Even when they invited me to a beach bonfire that Saturday night, I nodded my consent without really registering the details of the invitation.

  I was glad when fifth period finally came around and Xavier and I had French together. I felt a rush of relief to be in the same room as him even though I could barely focus. I desperately needed to talk to him now, even if I hadn’t decided what I was going to say. I just knew that it couldn’t wait.

  He was less than a handsbreadth away, and I had to sit on my fingers to keep them from reaching out and touching him. Partly because I wanted to reassure myself that I hadn’t imagined him but also because it felt as if we were two magnets drawn to each other; resisting was more painful than succumbing. The minutes crawled by, and it seemed as if time had slowed deliberately just to spite me.

  Xavier sensed my strange mood and stayed seated after the bell, watching everyone else file past. While I put on a charade of packing up my books and pencils, he sat very still without fidgeting. A few curious onlookers cast glances in our direction, probably hoping to pick up some threads of the conversation that they might report back to their friends as juicy gossip.

  “I tried to call you last night but there was no answer,” he said, seeing that I was struggling to start. “I was worried about you.”