Still panicked, I looked down to make sure I was touching some part of the cliff when I saw that his boots, on either side of my feet, were halfway over the edge. But he was standing on it. Barely. He was somehow suspending us both with a supernatural strength.
“Relax, Maren,” Gavin said in a voice that made it very hard to do anything else. “Enjoy the view.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to lift my eyes from the jagged, jet-black rocks flecked with florescent green that leered up from the swirling water. The sea spread out before me on all three sides. A million shades of blue shone through the water and the sky, making it hard to tell which was which. I felt like I was in the clouds and part of the earth.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “I just had to show you. Let you feel it the way I can.”
Seeing the world from this perspective was both dizzying and wonderful. There was nothing around us. Just open, empty space. Just me and him.
“It’s great,” I sputtered. “Super fun. But can we reel it back in?”
“Sure,” he answered. I felt him flex his shoulder muscles as he straightened up, tipping us away from the edge. He took a step backward, and I practically threw myself off him. My heart was beating so fast that I was shaking, but I realized with amazement that I liked the feeling. It was a good shaking. A thrilling shaking.
I crumpled to the ground, grateful for the warm rock beneath me. “That was not funny, dangling me over the edge like that,” I breathed, although I couldn’t hide my joy completely.
“Och, it kind of was,” he answered, sitting down next to me.
Secure now that I was safe on solid ground, I surveyed my surroundings. The forest behind us ended abruptly, but the cliff continued, a wide-open space floored with large, flat boulders. The smooth rock surface seemed to rise slightly and disappear into the sky.
I scanned the endless horizon. The blues in the sky were beginning to dissolve into dark purple. Small islands seemed to float in the clouds and bob in the ocean at the same time. I felt like the beautiful vista was secretly painted just for us. Sharing the spectacular view with Gavin made me feel special, like I was chosen just for him, and this was “our” place.
“What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?” Gavin asked.
I nodded, still trying to calm down. Being so close to him made it hard. Our bodies were now touching from shoulder to thigh. “It’s breathtaking,” I said. “But how are we so high? We were just in a valley and didn’t really go up a very big hill.”
“Scotland’s funny like that,” he replied. “So you like it?” He was eager for my approval. A good sign that he didn’t despise me.
I closed my eyes as the wind swirled past my face. A warm peace burst inside and then settled over me. “I love it. It’s like being on top of the world.”
He smiled. “I come here whenever I need to think.” He paused. “I don’t know why, but I wanted you to see it.”
“It feels like we’re the only two people on earth up here,” I marveled.
“Maybe we are.”
I turned and found he was admiring me, not the scenery. I stared back, trying to memorize the different shades and shapes of blue in his eyes. After a few minutes, he finally spoke. “Your eyes. They’re such a strange color.”
“You mean green?” I said, not daring to look away.
“No, ‘green’ is entirely too small a word to describe them.”
We sat still, looking at each other. I didn’t want to break the silence and hoped he would continue. He did.
“There’s a place not unlike this on the northeast coast, called Whaligoe. The sea cliffs drop straight down, but if you know where to look, there are steps carved in the rock—three hundred sixty-five of them—that you can take to the water’s edge. Most of the sea around Scotland is dark blue, but down there, at the very bottom of Whaligoe’s cove, the water is the most amazing emerald color. It’s hard to describe, and I’ve never seen it anywhere else. Until today. Your eyes are the color of that water.”
I was speechless. It was the best compliment I’d ever gotten. He moved his head toward me, and I held my breath. He was about to kiss me. I closed my eyes and waited, but he must have changed his mind, because I felt a small breeze as he pulled away. I opened my eyes and saw that he was lying on his back. I was horrified that I’d misread the signals so badly, but only for a moment, because he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me down next to him.
“Look at that.” He pointed to the clouds above as he kept his arm wrapped around me. I rested my head against his shoulder and decided I might like this even better than making out. Well, maybe not, since I’d never actually made out with a guy, and I was absolutely bursting to kiss him. But it was divine being nestled against him. We watched the clouds roll overhead. They were so low, I thought we might reach out and touch them.
He stroked the hair at my temple, and I fell just a little bit deeper in love with him. I didn’t want to move—ever—but I did want to know more about him, this amazing creature under my cheek.
“Tell me about your life,” I said. “About your most exciting mission.”
“Can’t,” he said. “It’s top secret.”
“What about the biggest battle you’ve ever been in?”
“Nope. Classified.”
“Seriously? I won’t tell anyone.”
“You think you won’t, but if you were being tortured, you might think again,” he said as he continued casually playing with my hair.
“Tortured? Who’s going to torture me? A demon?”
“Can’t say. Too dangerous,” he replied, adding, “I told you it’s not a good idea to know me. For the terrible conversation alone.”
“There must be something you can say,” I protested. I ran my fingers over his chest, exploring every dip and bulge. I drew a little heart and wondered if he could tell.
“Mmmm,” he said, pretending to think about it. “I’m not sure. There are a lot of rules against it.”
“There are angel rules?” I asked, desperately hoping they had nothing to do with dating a human. “Tell me one.”
“I’ve already told you one: we’re not allowed to kill humans.”
“Not even bad ones? Not even murderers?” I asked.
“Nope, none.”
“What about demons? Can they not kill humans too?” I asked.
“No, they can. They have their own set of rules, I’m afraid.”
“Are you allowed to kill demons?”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s sort of the whole point.” I wondered how many he had killed. I had a feeling it was a lot.
“Can humans kill demons?”
“Not without supernatural help.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” I mused. “They can kill us, but we can’t kill them.”
“I haven’t found much about evil that’s fair,” he answered.
“What happens when you kill a demon?” I pressed.
“I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” he reminded me.
“You’re helping protect me,” I offered. “Knowledge is power.” I cringed inside. I sounded like a cheesy public service advertisement.
“Mmmm,” he answered, closing his eyes. I propped up on my elbow to get a better look at him. I hadn’t been this close to him while he was still and not watching me back, so I was able to study his features. They were perfectly made, as if chiseled by a great sculptor, which I supposed was true. I wondered if he had been made for me. My soul whispered that he was.
His skin was smooth and radiant. He certainly didn’t look like he was more than eighteen or nineteen years old. I wondered if he really was two hundred eighty-three. What would it be like to live so long? How many wars had he seen? How many presidents and leaders and inventions? Did time go more slowly for him since it was endless?
“What’s it like being immortal?” I asked.
“What’s it like being mortal?” he respon
ded. “I don’t have anything to compare it to. I only know what I know.”
“But to know you’re never going to die? That must be nice.”
“Immortals can die,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“What?” I was startled. “I thought ‘immortal’ meant you couldn’t die.”
“No, it means we can live forever. ‘Can’ being the operative word. Just like we can kill demons, we can be killed by them.”
“What happens when an angel dies?” I asked.
“Same as a human. We go back to heaven.”
“And demons?”
He opened one eye and looked at me sideways. “I think you know where they end up.”
I laid my head back down on his shoulder. I didn’t feel like talking about death or demons any longer. Way to kill the mood, I reprimanded myself. “What’s another angel rule?” I asked, trying to make my voice lighter.
“The one that applies most readily to you is that a human can only visit an angel village during the day. You have to be gone before nightfall. In fact,” he said, shifting his weight and gently removing my head from his shoulder. “We’d better get back.”
I sat up reluctantly. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to leave. I wanted to stay, to bask in the warmth of his body. I wanted so badly to kiss him. Everything had seemed to be headed in that direction, but now the interlude was over. I wondered if I had messed up my big opportunity with all my questions. Why hadn’t I kept my big, stupid mouth shut?
He helped me to my feet, and I was relieved to find he kept hold of my hand. At least he still liked me, or was being angel-friendly with me, or whatever.
He led me back into the forest.
“Why do I have to leave by nightfall?” I asked as we crunched along the forest floor. “That seems like a stupid rule.”
“I suppose because if it weren’t a rule, humans would want to live with angels every time they found themselves in a scrape.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. Although I’d certainly volunteer.
“Humans are only allowed to stay in angel villages if a demon legion has locked onto them,” he continued, “and there’s no other way to keep them safe.”
“Has it ever happened here, in this village?”
“Aye. Just once. A girl got mauled by a demon and her Guardian angel found her just after the attack. Since her injuries were supernatural, he brought her back to heal.”
“The demons didn’t chase them in?” I asked.
“This is sacred ground. Demons aren’t allowed here.”
“What happened to her?”
“Our healers were able to save her, but she couldn’t leave, because the demons were tracking her. Every time she tried, she was hunted down again. She lives here permanently now.”
“She’s still here?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.
“Of course,” he answered. “The village adopted her. You’ve already met her.”
My mind snapped to attention. “Rielly?” I asked.
“Aye,” Rielly answered. “The one and only.” I looked up and saw she was standing in front of us, waiting for us again. Gavin spotted her too and immediately let go of my hand.
“You’re a human girl?” I marveled.
Rielly nodded. “I am—or at least, I was. I don’t suppose I’d be called ‘girl’ now by many.”
“Where are you from? How long have you been here?” I had so many questions.
“I’m from Inverness, and I’ve been here twenty-five years, I think. It’s hard to tell when those around you never age,” she said, motioning at Gavin.
“Are you the only human here?”
“Why don’t you come and help me with some of the daily chores?” Rielly asked. “That way you can ask me all the questions you want, and we won’t bore poor Gavin here to pieces. Gavin, the hunting party has come back. Go listen in on their report.”
Gavin looked at me. I had barely nodded for him to go before he was halfway through the yard. Wow, he wasted no time in getting away from me, I thought sourly. Just then, he turned back and gave me a crooked smile. Our eyes locked, and my heart jumped.
Rielly and I crossed to the western side of the village and approached a croft. It was much more open than the others I’d seen so far: only three sides were walled, the roof slanted away from the front, and inside, the space was filled with high tables, pottery of all shapes and sizes, and food.
“So, angels don’t just eat at festivals then?” I asked, looking at the crocks of ground wheat and root vegetables.
“Yes, they eat, they drink, they dance, and all the rest of it as wee Cassidy explained.” Rielly began organizing bowls and crudely carved spoons. “When they are on earth, angels are like humans in almost every way, except they have supernatural powers, and they can’t be killed by mortals.”
“Well, why don’t the angels just kill all the demons and be done with it?” I asked. “Rid the earth of them. Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Rielly replied, taking a wooden pitcher from a shelf, and pouring what looked like milk into a knee-high, narrow cylinder that sat nearby on the dirt floor. “There are a lot more demons than you might think. When Lucifer was cast out of heaven, he took a third of the angels with him.”
“A third?” I said. “How? How did he convince them?”
“Evil is contagious,” she answered simply. I had never really thought about it that way, but it did make sense.
She continued, “Since demons are fallen angels, they are physically weaker than angels, so demons avoid open conflict with good because they know they will lose. Even a young lad like Gavin would slice a demon in two soon as look at him. Demons would rather mess with humans.”
I felt a ripple of pride for Gavin, hearing him praised by someone else.
Rielly stopped talking, and looked at me strangely for a minute. Then she shook her head as if to deflect an annoying insect. “Here,” she said, directing me to sit on a small stool next to the bucket of milk. She covered it with a donut-shaped wooden disk and shoved a stick in the hole. She motioned for me to move the stick up and down, which I did.
“Is Gavin really two hundred eighty-three?” I asked. “How is that possible? I thought Gavin said angels didn’t age.”
“They don’t, not really,” Rielly replied. “They’re created, but as baby angels, sent to live with other angels to learn the ropes.” I was right! I thought, remembering Gavin mocking my belief about baby angels. Well, sort of . . .
“That’s why you see the younger angels around here. They’re all apprenticing, as it were. Once they reach a certain level of maturity, they get their assignment—Guardian, Warrior, Governor, Record Keeper, Messenger—and choose the human age appearance that best suits their job.”
“What about Archangel?” I asked, trying to prove I had a least some knowledge of heavenly hosts.
“Archangel isn’t an assignment,” Rielly replied, “it’s a promotion.”
I wondered if it was Gavin’s goal, to be an Archangel, and why he was so devastated at being demoted. Because of me.
After what seemed like hours of pounding the wooden stick, Rielly lifted the lid of the bucket and showed me the results: a light-yellowish cream.
“Butter?” I asked, crinkling my nose involuntarily at the not-so-fresh smell.
“Very good,” she answered.
She lifted the bucket with one hand, and deftly emptied the gooey butter into a larger wooden barrel. She poured wax over the top of the spread, and then used a rock to pound the tight-fitting lid in place. She wrapped the barrel in rope both horizontally and vertically, flipping the two-foot-high tub as if it weighed nothing, even though it had to be over fifty pounds. When she was finished looping and tying the rope, I saw she had woven two even handles, one on each side. She slipped a long, thick stick through the loops.
“Grab on,” she commanded.
I stepped forward and lifted my end of the
stick, as she did the same. The barrel was crazy heavy.
“Where are we taking it?” I asked.
“To the bog,” she answered.
CHAPTER 12
By the time we finally stopped walking, my arms were shaking with exhaustion. As we set the barrel down, I began vigorously rubbing above my elbows.
“Do you do this every day?” I asked Rielly.
“Aye, and usually by myself,” she answered. “You’d be surprised how strong you are when you have to be.”
“So this is the bog,” I said, looking around. I’d learned about the famous Scottish bogs in my Rural Studies class at Kingussie, but actually seeing one up close, I wasn’t impressed. Our teacher told us they were like swamps that could suck you down like quicksand, but all I saw in front of us was wet grass and mud.
“’Tis,” Rielly said. “The bog itself is technically outside of the village boundaries, but it’s the nearest one, and we need it.”
“What do we do now?”
“We bury it.”
“By the bog?” I asked.
“In the bog.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Keeps the butter nice and cold. Preserves it for, well, for forever, if I fancied a guess.”
I realized that they didn’t exactly have refrigerators in the village, or electricity. I also noticed we didn’t have anything to dig with.
“How are we going to bury it?” I asked. “I’m assuming, as humans, we can’t walk over there, and besides, we don’t have a shovel.”
“No need.” Rielly smiled. She untied the rope we had used to carry the barrel and fastened it once around the barrel’s middle. She laid the end of the loose rope on the ground at her feet, lifted the barrel over her head like a comic strip character, and heaved it into the bog. It fell with a resounding thunk about three feet away, stuck in the mud, but definitely quite above ground.
“Um, that’s it?” I said, trying to hide how her super strength scared the crap out of me. “It just sits there?”
“Watch,” Rielly replied, picking up the rope’s end. Suddenly, the bog hissed. A large bubble of mud at the base of the barrel popped. Other bubbles formed, grew, and then exploded with a sloppy sigh. Each bubble’s demise seemed to suck the barrel down into the mud. In just a few minutes, the barrel was half gone, and sinking noisily.
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