“Me either,” Harper says, wrapping her arms around my rib cage and holding on to me like we’ve been separated for years instead of a day. She smells different. Like lavender. Not her normal sugar-and-lemon scent. Borrowed shampoo and body wash I’m sure.
“Oh, Luke,” Harper says, finally letting me go and carefully wrapping her arms around Luke’s neck. “I’m so, so glad you’re okay. We were so worried.”
“I’m okay,” he answers, kissing Harper on the top of her forehead. “I’m just glad you guys are okay.”
“Emotionally scarred, but that’s what therapy’s for, right?” Harper says with a small smile before letting go of her hold on Luke. “At least I’m alive. And I’ll actually get to have a life and go back to school and stuff. If they weren’t going to let me go back to New York, I was going to flip out on them.”
“So, they’re really letting you go home now?” I ask.
“Yes.” Harper nods with an almost wistful grin. “They’re going to have a watcher fly me home right now.”
“What about security?” I ask, my hands gripping either side of her arms, suddenly panicked and protective.
“A watcher will be stationed at the house and on my family for a couple months. They’ll have someone assigned to me once I go back to Manhattan. But everyone seems pretty confident I’m safe now.”
“Thank God,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I was certain I not only almost got you killed but also deprived the world of its next very important filmmaker.”
“They just made me sign a lot of papers,” Harper says, pointing over her shoulder at the chamber doors. “So when I get asked in future interviews how I came up with this crazy plot where a girl and her best friend get kidnapped from a motel in Iowa and held hostage in Colombia, I’m going to have to come up with a really good lie.”
“Harper,” a voice calls to her down the hallway and I turn to see a watcher, waiting to transport her home. “Sorry, but we’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Okay,” she calls to him before standing up on her tippy toes and wrapping her arms around Luke’s neck. “Love you, buddy. Be good to my girl. Or I’ll hunt you down and finish that assassin’s job, okay?”
“Okay,” Luke says with a laugh, giving her a tight squeeze with his good arm before letting her go.
“Bye, Harper,” I say, my voice seizing up in my throat as I wrap my arms around my best friend. I pull her into me tight, not wanting to let her go, not ready to watch her walk out of my life once again. She puts her hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer to her.
“Thank you for keeping me alive,” she whispers in my ear.
“Thank you for keeping me alive,” I whisper back, holding on to her for one more second.
“Will I see you guys soon?” she asks, wiping a stray tear from her eye as I finally release her.
“Not sure,” I answer with a shrug and point toward the door. “I guess we’ll find out in there.”
“I sure hope so,” she says, running her hands down my arm until they lace with my hand. “And next time, let’s not meet up because someone is trying to kidnap me, okay?”
“You got it,” I answer with a laugh.
“Love you, Reagan,” she says, letting go of my hand and taking a few steps down the hallway backward.
“Love you, Harper,” I answer, giving her a wave, thankful that this is not good-bye. That I will one day see my beautiful friend again. “See you soon,” I can’t help but add.
Harper holds up her hand, her sluggish smile rising, turning around before it can reach its peak.
I keep my hand up, waving to the back of Harper’s head, my heart suddenly full and maybe even happy.
Harper turns around for one second, just long enough to give me a wink, before reaching the waiting watcher. The two of them turn the corner and disappear.
Good-bye, my friend. Good-bye.
THIRTY
My body immediately aches as I sit in my metal chair.
Hello, old and sadistic friend, I think, tapping it on both sides, wondering why the Black Angels don’t invest in some comfier seating in this room.
The senior leadership team sits two intimidating steps up from us on their little stage. Victoria Browning’s seat is now occupied by someone new: my father. He nods at me as Luke gets settled in his matching, uncomfortable metal chair to my left.
“Thanks for joining us today,” says the man I dubbed Stony Face during my first time in front of the Tribunal. He runs his large hands along the front of his suit, smoothing it out. “I’m relieved that the two of you are okay. I know you’ve both been through quite a harrowing last few days.”
“Thank you for doing all you could to save us,” I answer, hoping he can hear the genuine appreciation in my voice.
“You’re welcome,” he answers. “You did a lot to save yourself, to be honest. If it wasn’t for Browning double-crossing you, I’m pretty sure you would have made it back here alive on your own.”
One of the female senior leaders clears her throat and picks up where Stony Face left off.
“We are happy that you are both okay,” she says, her hands running along a sheet of paper in front of her. “But while some of us on this council are celebrating your skills and talent, there are still senior leaders, myself included, that cannot ignore the fact that you both went rogue again. You left your safe house in Vermont to save your friend in Manhattan. You did the right thing in rescuing her, but again, you did it without the help or knowledge of the Black Angels.”
“I know, ma’am,” I answer, nodding my head. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t see another way to reach her without tipping off the mole and in turn, tipping off Fernando and his team.”
“Well, I think you did the right thing,” Stony Face says, his hand over his chest. “Several of us do see why you felt the need to keep us in the dark. I commend you for putting another’s life before your own. That is clearly the sign of a Black Angel.”
His praise sends my body backward. I glance over at Luke and his eyes are wide, like he was expecting the same scolding I was.
“One of the main reasons we expelled you from Qualifiers after Indonesia was to protect you,” he continues. “Not because we didn’t think you could do this work. We know you can. And again you exhibited your abilities. All on your own. So, with that in mind … we’ve taken a vote and we’d like to give you both one last chance to prove yourselves in the Qualifiers. It was a very close vote, three to two, but I, for one, would be proud to see you two as full Black Angel agents.”
My body tilts back again and it takes me a moment to realize that I’ve pushed my chair off its two front legs. I immediately pull myself forward, not wanting to answer Stony Face’s offer with the sound of my body crashing to the floor.
My mind floods with conflicting emotions. Excitement and dread. Joy and sorrow. Pride and pain. I thought my life in the Black Angels was over. But now, here it is again. The chance to be a part of the most top secret, elite spy agency in the world. The chance to help people, to be a silent hero.
To whom much is given, much is expected.
The unofficial Black Angel mantra comes back to me. It was painted in black on the wall of our martial arts rooms in every home we ever had. Being a Black Angel gives me the power to do so much good. But it took so much away too. My face buzzes, edging toward numbness.
“What happens if we don’t want to come back?” I ask quietly and watch four pairs of eyebrows rise around the room. I can tell everyone is surprised that I wouldn’t jump at the chance to come back. Everyone but my father. He knows I’ll struggle with this invitation.
“Then you can do what you want,” my father answers, leaning forward in his chair and resting his hands on a pile of papers in front of him. “We’ll keep a watcher on you both for a while just to be sure you’re okay. But the threat from the Torres cartel is very weak now. So you can go to college. Move to Europe. Do whatever makes you happy.”
Do whatever makes you ha
ppy.
I don’t think those words have ever been said to me before. Certainly not when it came to my future. Growing up, I wasn’t just encouraged to be a Black Angel. I was expected to follow the path my parents had laid out for me before I was even born. And now, here I am again, standing at the fork, completely unsure of which way to turn. Unsure of which path will make me truly happy.
“Why don’t we give you both some time to think it over,” Stony Face says with a nod, our cue to stand up. Our chairs scrape against the concrete floors, and if my body wasn’t so weighed down right now, I’d probably shiver at the sound.
“Yes, try to have an answer to us by this time tomorrow though,” my father says, then looks directly at me. “Whatever you choose, we know it will be the right decision.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, a small, proud smile curling up his thin lips. It’s the first time in my life I feel our relationship shifting. He’s looking at me, talking to me, like I’m an adult, capable of making up my own mind. And no matter what I decide, I know he’ll stand behind me.
“Thank you, everyone,” I say, looking at the Tribunal and then back at my father. “It really means a lot.”
With that, I turn on my heel and walk toward the double doors. I push them open and throw my body out into the hallway, my breath suddenly coming into my lungs in shallow gasps.
What do I do? What do I do?
Luke grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway.
“Come on. Let’s go talk,” he says, his voice calm and even.
One of the smaller conference rooms is empty, so I follow Luke inside and flip on the light. As he closes the door behind him, I hop on the smooth wood table, my legs dangling, kicking back and forth with nervous energy.
“So,” he says, turning back around and resting his right hand on the top of my left thigh. “What do you want to do?”
“Oh my God,” I say, rubbing my face in my hands. “It’s like you’re asking me what I want to have for breakfast. This isn’t an eggs or chocolate chip pancakes type of decision. How are we supposed to decide the rest of our lives in twenty-four hours?”
“Well, at least tell me what you’re thinking,” Luke says, standing back up straight. “What’s your gut saying?”
“I don’t know,” I say, taking in a noisy, full breath. “It’s like half of me wants to just run away. Go to college and become a doctor. Live a normal life where I can have a family and go on vacation and grab Starbucks every morning on the way to work.”
“You can still do all that as a Black Angel,” Luke answers.
“Well, live that life and not have to worry about having a gun pointed in my face.”
“Okay. Got it. And the other half?” Luke asks.
“The other half…” I begin, a sudden flood of emotion momentarily stealing my voice. I clear my throat and try again. “The other half thinks about all the people who would have died without my mother. Without her being there to save them. When I fought my way into Qualifiers, that’s one of the reasons I did it. It wasn’t all about killing Santino. It was for all the people that I could save. That I could help. It seems like a waste to just throw all my training away. It’s like I’m giving up on those people.”
“There will still be Black Angels there to help them, Reagan,” Luke answers, placing his hand on my rib cage and staring into my eyes. “I said this to you a long time ago. You can’t live your life for other people. So what do you want to do? What will make you happy?”
“Being with you,” I answer and Luke can’t help but smile. He leans in and kisses me lightly before turning back to me, his face serious again.
“You’ve got me,” he says. “But seriously, Reagan. What will make you happy? You only get one life. What do you want to do with it?”
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
My heart beats louder and louder in my ears, my blood racing through my body. I think about it. Its color. The pellets of red blood cells. The way it moves through me, warms me, keeps me alive.
You have Black Angel in your blood.
That was something my mother used to say to me. That I was born to do this. Born to be a Black Angel. But the question still remains: Do I really want to be?
* * *
Light shines out of Dad’s small office. The overhead fluorescent bulbs buzz, filling the silent hallway, as I make my way down to where I know he’ll still be working. I pass one of the digital clocks. It reads 9:52. I’ve been roaming the halls or sitting by myself in empty conference rooms or dark martial arts spaces for hours, trying to process the chance that was given to us today. To rejoin Qualifiers, even with all I’ve done wrong. And as I make my way toward that light, I can’t help but wonder which way my father voted: in or out.
After settling into our seats on the flight out of Colombia, I still had one more obstacle to face, one last apology to make.
“Thank you for saving us,” I said quietly to him as the jet’s nose tipped into the air, taking us far away from that nightmare. “I know I’ve done some things you haven’t agreed with. And I’m very sorry. So thank you for helping me.”
“Reagan,” Dad said, turning in his seat and putting his hand on my forearm. “You are my daughter. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I know, but you were so angry with me during our last call,” I said, staring down at the carpeting. “I’m so sorry that I screwed up and went rogue and disappointed you and…”
“Stop. I’d go to the ends of the earth to help you,” my father said gently, his fingers tightening around my skin. “Even if I thought you were wrong. Which … honestly … I’m not quite sure you were.”
“What? Really?” I say, looking up at him surprised.
“You’ve disobeyed rules,” my father said, nodding his head. “You’ve broken plenty of Black Angel Directives. But those are all in place to protect you. And I guess that’s why I’ve been so angry. Not because you were wrong. You won’t really understand this until you have a child of your own, but all I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you. So I guess … it’s been more the fear of losing the last thing I love. I understand why you killed Santino. I’m not saying I agree with you going rogue, but I understand it. Same with Harper. I get why you were too afraid to involve us and why you needed to rescue her on your own.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yeah. You’re so much like your mother. Maybe even more than you realize. Your heart is always in the right place. So I guess keep following that heart of yours.”
And with that, my father took my cheeks into his hands and kissed my forehead. He told me to go to sleep. And so I did.
As I walk closer to his door, I hear a familiar voice. Sam. I smile and take the last few steps down the hall, appearing in front of his open doorway. My father sits behind his desk, a pair of glasses that he never used to need balanced on the tip of his nose. His tie and coat are gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled. He leans his body toward Sam, who’s sitting in a chair next to him, going over a file.
“Hey,” she says, seeing me first, a smile parting her lips as she leans back in her seat. “Come on in.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, taking a tenuous step backward. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, it’s fine,” my father answers, closing the file and waving me in with the beige folder. “We were actually just talking about some of the upcoming testing for Qualifiers. Please. Take a seat.”
“Testing, really?” I say, sliding into a metal chair next to Sam. “Want to tell me about it?”
“Well, that depends on whether or not you’re staying,” Dad says, taking off his glasses and tossing them on his desk.
“You still don’t know, right?” Sam says, her voice quiet, her eyes examining me. “I can tell you’ve been wrestling with it all day.”
“How?”
“Your eyes. They give you away when you’re anxious.”
I hate that I thought for even a single second that she
could be the mole. I told her about my suspicions on the plane. At first, she was shocked and a little hurt. But she went through the timeline of the last couple years and said she understood how I could draw that conclusion. She was always near the trauma, but never directly impacted. I still feel slightly nauseous with guilt for ever thinking she could betray my family.
“So, have you made up your mind?” my father asks, pulling my attention back to the major life question at hand.
“Not entirely,” I answer, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my sore stomach, the agony of this decision sitting on my internal organs like a block of lead. “They’re pretty much opposite choices. And it’s not like I can change my mind. If I decide to leave, I’m gone. If I decide to stay, I’m fully committed. I’m a Black Angel for life. It’s basically deciding between two totally different lives, two totally different worlds. Each life, there are elements I love. But then there are elements that I guess scare me too.”
“It’s a really big decision,” Sam says, leaning forward in her chair and resting her forearms on her thighs. “I don’t envy the position you’re in. And I’m not going to try and sway you either way. Honestly, I’ve wanted both lives for you. We both have.”
Sam looks over at my father and he nods.
“We all saw your talent and were desperate for you to be a Black Angel,” Sam continues. “But we wanted to protect you from it too. I mean just a few months ago I all but begged you to turn your back on this place and be normal.”
“But what part of me has ever been normal?” I answer, looking back and forth between the two people who have loved and guided me my entire life. “You guys said it. Mom said it. I’m just not normal. And part of me wonders if Mom was right. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be happy. Maybe I was meant to help change the world.”
“I don’t think the two things are mutually exclusive,” Dad says, staring directly into my eyes. My father has a nervous tic of glancing away mid-conversation. This time, he doesn’t. He looks right at me while he speaks. “I think you can be a Black Angel and be both happy and change the world. And I think you can live a more normal life and do both of those things as well.”
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