by Lisa Voisin
“Is that when you’re working?”
Nodding, he said, “It’s the Host.”
“The host?”
He squeezed my hand and brought it close to his heart. The light in his eyes glowed faintly orange in the dim of my room. “When any one of us acts on behalf of Heaven, all the angels in the network are with us. So if one of us speaks, all of our voices are heard.”
I took a deep breath and let that sink in. Closing my eyes, I saw an explosion of light erupt through darkness, forging galaxies and filling the sky with stars. Planets formed from colored light. The sound it made was incredible, comprised of many notes and harmonies all playing together at once. It was as though all life stemmed from that one eruption, like a spark that started a fire. Startled by it, I gasped.
“What did you just see?” Michael asked.
I described what I saw as best I could, but I couldn’t begin to explain what I’d heard. “What was it?” I asked.
“You’ve heard ‘In the beginning was the Word,’” he said, “but what people don’t know is that the Word was sung.”
“Were you there?” I asked. I’d never thought how far back his life actually went; it was staggering.
When he answered, his voice was sad. “Everything that lives now, that ever lived, was there. It’s just that nobody remembers it anymore.”
A shiver ran through me and I didn’t know what to say. As we lay there in silence, I realized then that there were so many things I didn’t know. There was an entire lifetime I hardly remembered and it was affecting my present life. I was in a world beyond my imagining, a world of angels and demons, with rules and consequences I hardly understood. But beneath all of it was love, as though it were the basis of everything.
Michael broke the silence first. “The others don’t like what I’m doing—with you.”
“They can see?” Of course they could. Arielle had said as much, but I’d convinced myself she was the only one who saw us.
“All of it. As long as I’m connected, I’m never alone. Which is why sometimes I disconnect so I don’t piss them off.” The shadows cast on his face from the dim light of my room made him look sad. He sighed. “I can’t lose them.”
I squeezed his hands. “I don’t want you to.”
“I can’t lose you either.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant now or if he was thinking of the past, but there was something in his voice that made my heart ache. It hung in the air between us. “You won’t. Even if…I mean, even though we’re just friends, I’ll be there for you. Always. I promise.”
He sucked in his breath and let it out slowly. “I’m tired of kidding myself. You and I could never be just friends, Mia.”
He paused. Could he feel my heart racing as I struggled to figure out what he meant? Surely he wasn’t going to give everything up. He couldn’t!
“But if I lose the others, I’d be useless against Damiel or any of the demons after us. And if you think they’ll just forget about me because I’ve walked away from the fight, you’re wrong. They’d hunt me down.”
“What about Arielle? She’s your friend. Wouldn’t she help?”
“She’s my sponsor. She can’t break our laws either, because she has to answer to them too. But the way I feel is my business, not theirs…” Still holding my hand, he took a deep breath and leaned closer to me, our sides touching. “What I do, on the other hand…”
A tremble ran down the length of his whole body right through me. Both of us froze. “I know,” I said. “I know.”
As I lay there in stillness, listening to his breathing and the quick, steady beat of his heart, I couldn’t help but wonder if the others could see us now. Couldn’t they see how hard he struggled to be what they expected? Didn’t that count for something?
***
I woke to the foreign sensation of movement as Michael gently slid out from under me, replacing himself with pillows. It was still dark out, but the sounds of life outside told me it was morning. Michael hardly looked rumpled.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Your mother will be home soon,” he said. “I should go.”
Stifling a yawn, I smiled at him. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“You should be. You drooled all over my shirt.”
I gasped, my hand covering my mouth, and he grinned at me, pulling on his shoes. I reached a hand up to smack him but was so tired I missed.
Chuckling softly, he kissed my forehead to bid me goodbye. The warmth from his lips shot all the way down to my toes.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Whatever for?” There was a ring of humor in his voice.
“You only stayed ’cos I asked you to.”
“That’s not the only reason. I just…” He hesitated.
“Just what?” I pressed.
“Didn’t know if I could trust myself.”
“What about now?”
He laughed under his breath as if to say Not at all. But his eyes had a different look in them than I’d seen before, as though he were less haunted, more present.
“I trust you,” I said.
“I know,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t have asked me to be here if you didn’t.”
He was right. I didn’t trust easily. But no matter what had happened in our past, I trusted him, and not just because it was so long ago that I didn’t care what he did. There was nothing he could do that I wouldn’t forgive or accept, and the idea of being in love with someone that much freaked me out—mostly because it didn’t feel wrong. It may have been against the rules, but nothing about loving or being with him felt wrong.
He removed his shirt and tucked it around his waist. Golden light glimmered behind the muscles of his shoulders as they prepared for his wings to connect. And then, with incredible grace, he leapt out my window.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When Michael picked me up for school I could still see something different in his eyes. He seemed more relaxed, like some war inside him was finally over. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed that my own eyes had changed, too. They shone wildly with a light that hadn’t been there before. We’d spent the whole night together, we hadn’t had sex, and the world didn’t end.
Walking around that morning, I was really clumsy, as though my feet were floating above the ground. When Michael was with me, he managed to steer me away from obstacles and even kept a straight face. On my own, though, I bumped into a garbage can, someone’s locker, and a boy with stringy red hair who gave me a dirty look before telling me to watch my step.
After lunch, Michael told me he had to leave for the rest of the day because Arielle needed backup on a tricky assignment she was working. I found it odd that he called them “assignments.” He didn’t look worried, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the demon he’d fought the night before. Michael was strong, but his opponents were horrifying. He walked on a battleground that I was grateful to have no part in. I didn’t want to know what evil was out there. I’d seen enough for several lifetimes.
I had a free period in the afternoon that I was going to use to study for an upcoming history quiz. I went to the library but found I had forgotten my notes, so I had to trudge down the empty halls to my locker.
When I opened it, a folded piece of lined yellow note paper fell out. I picked it up, unfolded it and read:
Dear Mia,
It’s too bad we couldn’t get together the other night. I was looking forward to getting to know you better.
Perhaps you want to reconsider?
Sincerely,
Damiel
My hands shook as I read the note a second time. Was this for real? I’d never seen Damiel’s handwriting before, so I didn’t know. It could have been written by anyone, Elaine even, or he could have written it any time since I’d first refused to date him. Why, then, would it only show up now? I had been at my locker not ten minutes earlier and there was no sign of it then. I scanned the still-empty halls for a clue as to who could have put
it there. Could Damiel be back? I’d heard Michael mention it was possible, but so soon?
Relax. It’s probably an old note.
Something didn’t feel right. Without Michael around, there was nobody I could talk to who knew what a threat Damiel was. If I mentioned anything to Heather about that, she’d only think I was insane.
I spent the rest of my study period in the library, reading the same page over and over again because I couldn’t focus. As soon as the school day ended, I rushed outside to catch the bus. I was cutting through the parking lot when I ran into Farouk and Fatima heading toward their car.
“Need a lift?” Farouk asked cheerfully.
“That would be great,” I said, still shaken.
Fatima observed me curiously. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
Seeing her gave me an idea. Farouk had told me how she could see things. She could even sense something different about Michael and seemed to know Damiel meant me some kind of harm. Maybe I could talk to her.
“Yeah,” I replied a little hesitantly. “Can I…uh…talk to you about something?”
“Of course,” she said, motioning to the car as she started walking again. I followed.
I couldn’t believe I was going to ask for her help with a demon. How much could I tell her? How much could she see by merely looking at me? I only hoped that because the subject was otherworldly that her psychic experience would help. Besides, she was the only person I knew who might not think I was nuts. Without Michael or Arielle around, I didn’t know where else to go.
As soon as we arrived at the car, she said, “You’re not wearing the necklace.”
I touched my throat self-consciously. “Something happened to it; it buzzed like crazy, then broke and fell off. I’m sorry.”
“When?” It had just begun to drizzle, so she climbed into the back seat of Farouk’s car.
“Last night.”
Farouk got into the driver’s seat and suggested, “Let’s go somewhere warm and dry so you two can talk.”
Shaking droplets of rain out of her thick curly hair, Fatima said, “Let’s go to our place. Everyone’s at the store tonight. Farouk, would you take Mia home afterwards?”
“Of course.”
Fatima was remarkably calm and composed. “I’ve never heard of a Hamsa breaking before. You must have been in real danger.”
“I think I was.”
“At least you’re still alive.”
Did she know I was dealing with a demon? I tried to follow what she might have meant. “It’s just meant to block bad energy, right? That wouldn’t actually kill me?”
“You tell me,” she replied.
I sighed. Why can’t people give me straight answers?
“I know you can see things too. Farouk told me. People who aren’t really there.”
He’d told her about that? I glanced sideways at Farouk. He focused on the road as though he was trying to avoid the conversation. His face flushed slightly under my scrutiny, but he didn’t speak.
“It’s all really new,” I said finally. “I don’t understand it yet. I need your help.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
They lived in a big old-fashioned wood frame house with a large porch overlooking the bay. I followed them inside to the kitchen. Fatima excused herself for a moment to take her things to her room, and Farouk disappeared, muttering something about leaving us alone to talk.
Like the house itself, the kitchen was quite old-fashioned and tastefully decorated with white painted cupboards and a blue-tiled backsplash. In the corner by the windows was an antique oak dining table. A blue vase filled with sunflowers sat at its center.
Dark wooden furniture and a comfortable-looking sofa over a red Persian rug filled the living room. At one end of the room hung an ornate wood-framed mirror, and at the other stood a dresser. Resting on velvet cloth sat a book bound in red leather covered with ornate gold scrollwork. It looked so important I was almost afraid to touch it.
“It’s the Qu’ran,” Fatima said from behind, startling me. I was more nervous that I thought. “It’s the Muslim Bible.”
Not knowing what to say, I nodded. I did know that much.
“My parents are kind of religious,” she said, leading me back to the kitchen, “but Farouk and I are far more liberal in our practice.”
Under her right arm she carried a small wooden box, which she placed on the kitchen table. I took a seat across from her.
“Now, what did you want to know?” she asked, her face calm, impassive.
Unsure where to begin, I pulled out the note from Damiel and showed it to her. When she read it, her forehead crinkled with concern.
“When did you get this?”
“Today.”
“And he hasn’t been at school all week?”
I shook my head. “Do you think he put it in my locker before last week and I just found it now?”
“Let’s see, shall we?” She opened the box on the table. Inside was an object wrapped in blue silk. She carefully unfolded it to reveal a deck of ornately designed tarot cards.
“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.
“Since I was twelve,” she replied. “Don’t tell people, okay? My parents don’t even know about it. Tarot isn’t very Muslim of me. Farouk doesn’t even approve. He’s been turning a blind eye to it for years.”
Admiring how she’d managed to keep her gift a secret, I raised my hand as though I was making an oath. “Your secret’s safe with me.” As I hope mine is safe with you.
She smiled, holding the cards up to me. “Shuffle,” she said, then demonstrated what she meant, “keeping your question in mind.”
I took the large cards in my hands. They were cool to the touch and slightly worn around the edges. I shuffled and thought about the note from Damiel, but thoughts of Michael quickly interfered. I struggled to focus. When I had finished shuffling, I handed them back to her.
She pulled the top card and placed it on the table facing me.
“Seven of swords,” she said plainly. Her eyes glazed over, unfocused—or focused somewhere I couldn’t see. “It usually means someone with cunning and confidence: things are not as they appear, some kind of trickery. Someone is taking from you.”
Cunning and confidence—that was most certainly Damiel. And Michael had said once that Damiel was taking from me. “How does this relate to the note?”
“It means he only seems to be away. He will be back, and he wants more than he’s asking for.”
A prickle ran across my skin. It was the truth. “What can I do about it?”
She pulled the next card and put it on the table. On it was a naked couple with an angel in the clouds above them, its arms outstretched.
“The Lovers,” she said.
Heat rose to my face in spite of myself. If only Michael and I could be lovers! When Fatima looked past me again, her brow furrowed. I wondered what she was seeing.
“You have been given a gift of love, and for it you must love beyond anything you’ve ever imagined before,” she said.
Well, that seemed easy enough. I had never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved Michael. But how could love possibly be the answer? In some ways it was the problem.
She pulled another card and frowned. “The Devil.”
Before I could stop myself, I shivered. “What’s that about?”
“It’s the outcome card,” she said plainly.
“The Devil is the outcome?” My heart caught in my throat. “What does that mean?”
She picked up the card thoughtfully. “It’s one of the most difficult cards to read. It can mean someone you’re bound to. Someone who has power over you in some way, who has enslaved you. It can also mean someone who is caught or enslaved by a belief.”
“That’s the outcome?”
“As far as I can tell.”
My mind whirled with all the possible ways this could go wrong. Suddenly, all concerns about Damiel’s note left me. This read
ing was about me and Michael. Things not being as they seemed: that was about how happy I was with him. How in spite of everything, all his warnings, I held onto the belief that we could be together somehow. Fatima didn’t know Michael’s history, that our being lovers in the first place had had disastrous results. She didn’t know how much I longed to be with him again. Even if it meant we could never be physical with each other.
I tried to hide how depressed I was. From the looks of the cards, it would happen again. Michael would be faced with temptation and if he caved, he would fall again.
I stood up. “Thanks.”
“It doesn’t have to be bad,” she said, her eyes becoming more focused, clear.
I fought the urge to cry. “How can it not be bad?”
“The Devil challenges where we’re caught. If we can surpass the blocks, it can lead to true transformation, or even ascension.”
I thanked her again. Even though she was optimistic, I felt hopeless. There was nothing about surpassing blocks that meant I could be with Michael. I would love him forever; being with him meant everything to me. But if one thing came out of this reading, it was that I couldn’t tempt him again. I wouldn’t be responsible for his fall. Not this time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was cleaning up the dinner dishes when Michael arrived on my doorstep. Underneath his gray button-down shirt, which transformed his eyes into jewels, was the signature white tank top he wore for flying. With his hair still damp, drying in curls around his face, he looked more angelic than ever.
My hands soapy, I waved him in through the window and he joined me in the kitchen.
“I’m just finishing up,” I said. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“I’ll dry,” he offered and held out his hand for the towel. There was a gash on his arm; it had to be fresh.
“You’re hurt.” I grabbed his hand to examine it, but he pulled it away.
“It’s not that bad.”
Instantly everything that had happened in my day vanished. I was lost in concern for him. “What happened?”
He leaned on the kitchen counter across from me. “We were trying to prevent a rape,” he explained. “Arielle was working with the girl, trying to guide her to what she would need to do to get away or at least survive. She brought me in to work with her attacker because…well…I know the voices that he has to fight inside himself.”