by Jane Lebak
Tabris forced a tight and symmetrical smile that grew easier to maintain the longer he did it. In response to the demon’s nearness, he pulled his wings close to his body, fingering the green outer feathers.
Unbridled said, “Are you going to kill Elizabeth?”
“Are you going to go before God and beg for forgiveness?”
Unbridled laughed. “How can you ask me that question? You’re hardly qualified.”
Tabris maintained his nonsmile.
Unbridled rested back on his hands. “I’ve been watching you all day, and I’m fascinated by your new companions. Could the other angels possibly want you around any less? They might as well imprint their names on a petition.”
“Should that surprise me?”
“I want you.” The demon sidled closer. “Come with me.”
“Can’t.” Tabris tilted his head as though gesturing. “Tether.”
“Shed it! Let go of the girl and come with me. Let’s dance together in the Alps or dive under the Arctic ice or explore galaxies so far from Earth that their light will never reach it. Please. It’s been so long.”
The smile had frozen on Tabris’s face. “Thank you, but no.”
The demon sighed. “Can I just stay with you? We don’t even have to talk. I just want to be with you again.”
“You’re not my friend anymore.” Tabris shifted further away. “As long as it doesn’t involve me, do as you want, Unbridled.”
“Oh, irony!” The demon’s head picked up. “It’s so hard to find someone with your sense of humor!”
“Place a Craigslist ad.”
“You see!” Unbridled sat upright, wings flared. “That’s the Tabris I’ve missed so much.”
Tabris closed his eyes.
“Let’s go North and ride a cold front.”
“No.”
“If I could get you to say yes to any one question, what would that question be?”
“It would be, Tabris, would you like me to go away and leave you in peace?”
Silence.
After a long moment, Tabris extended his senses and confirmed the demon had gone.
He didn’t move from his spot. The trees lost leaves one by one to the childlike hands of gravity, their descending tones adding to the midnight music. He lay back to linger in the symphony when Raguel arrived.
Tabris flashed to a stand and bowed, his two-toned wings scissoring.
“Please relax,” said Raguel. “I’m sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner.”
“I didn’t think you needed to come at all.” Tabris squinted until he could look up without any spark in his eyes. “I figured I needed to send an update. Am I doing something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Raguel sat on a rock. “At ease, soldier.” He laughed, and Tabris self-consciously shifted his weight, then perched on a fallen tree that would have slid down the pond bank if he’d had any more substance than moonlight. He smiled the same nonsmile he’d worn for Unbridled.
“Are the other angels treating you well?”
Tabris nodded.
“And Elizabeth is what you expected?”
How to answer that question, when he hadn’t expected Elizabeth at all? When on meeting her, he hadn’t dared think of her as anything more than a potential victim, or maybe the nasty side effect of a medication you take to disinfect a wounded soul. He hadn’t thought to wonder what she’d be like, but moving through the day, parts of her had felt familiar and others deadly wrong. The schoolwork was far too easy for her—except it was just right for her and would have been too simple for Sebastian.
Maybe his silence was an answer to Raguel, who studied him in the moonlight. “Remember, you’re in my custody. I’m directly involved in everything that happens to you, so if for any reason you want me, call. I’ll do what I can.”
“I think I’m managing as well as you’d expect.” Tabris shook his head. “I’m still getting used to this.”
Tabris wondered if Raguel would call him out on the half-truths, having seen it all before. Except nothing like this had ever happened before, so he hadn’t seen it all. Raguel said, “And you’ll call me if you need help?”
“I would.” For whatever good it would do. “Don’t you trust me?”
Raguel paused a long time. Then, “I took your side at the trial, didn’t I?”
“Then trust me once more.” Tabris looked at the ground. “I’ll call if I think I should.”
Raguel took his leave. Tabris pivoted on the rotting log and stared back over the pond.
Four
After lunch the next day, Elizabeth and her friends played “wall-ball” against the brick sides of the school. Their guardians played alongside the girls, having just as good a time.
Rachmiel said, “I’m going to sit on the roof. You’ll watch her?”
“I will.” Tabris settled himself against an unused space on the wall and regarded her with dark eyes.
Rachmiel flashed to the rooftop where he joined Voriah and a few others.
“Rock!” Voriah said, laughing. “I didn’t expect you to join us.”
Rachmiel sat on the short wall designed to keep the maintenance workers from falling, but which also trapped any balls thrown injudiciously high. It served as an excellent perch for guardians. In addition to Rachmiel and Voriah were a smoky silent guardian who cared for one of the teachers, and Zohar, the green-eyed guardian angel of the school.
“What, no salute?” said Zohar.
Rachmiel only leaned over the edge to watch Elizabeth.
Zohar whistled. “You’re not giving yourself any time off.”
Rachmiel huffed. Then his mouth twitched. “I need to see how he operates, but I’m not leaving him alone with her. At least with a demon I’d know where I stood, but with him... No, it would be irresponsible.”
Voriah rested on the roof beside Rachmiel, glancing down at Tabris two stories beneath. “Has he spoken to you?”
“You mean more than to anyone else?” Rachmiel sighed. “Not really.”
Zohar said, “The strong silent type?”
Rachmiel projected negation. “That came out wrong. Look, Sebastian died…when?…on Wednesday, four PM Pacific time? It’s now Friday, twelve Eastern time. That’s not long. I’m surprised he can talk at all.”
Voriah grinned. “That’s so sweet of you.”
Rachmiel’s wings flared. “You saw him! The shock was still on his face when Raguel brought him to us! He needed some time to recover. I have no idea why he was sent directly to us.”
Despite sounding more understanding than the other two, Rachmiel hadn’t taken his gaze from Elizabeth and Tabris.
Voriah and the green-eyed angel projected back and forth to each other so quickly that Rachmiel couldn’t catch their conversation. Finally, Zohar said, “I’d like to know his thoughts too. He really doesn’t speak?”
“Oh, he’ll answer if you ask a question,” said Voriah. “He just won’t talk on his own.”
“Probably shock,” added Rachmiel.
“Mithra used to know him,” Voriah added, “and he says the changes are obvious, whatever that means, and that Tabris used to speak and laugh just like the rest of us.”
“You mean he projects everything?” said Zohar.
“Well—no.”
Voriah stopped. Rachmiel reached forward as Elizabeth jumped for a ball and lost her balance, but Tabris steadied the girl. Voriah continued, “Now that you mention it, I don’t think he’s projected anything.”
Rachmiel said, “He hasn’t to me.”
Beneath them, Tabris moved nearer to Elizabeth. The closest angels stopped bantering and got right up next to their charges.
Voriah waited a beat. Then, “He’s the life of the party.”
“Well, naturally,” said Zohar. “He’s a murderer.”
Rachmiel shook his head and half-closed his eyes—but not enough that he let Tabris out of his sight.
Zohar said, “It’s the truth.”
“Watch it
,” Voriah said. “Rachmiel had no choice in the matter. They have to work together for the next few decades. We hope.”
“I don’t know the whole story,” Rachmiel said. “I can’t judge him.”
The green eyes flashed. “God judged. He put Tabris on probation.”
“Not damnation.”
Zohar folded his arms. “I just wonder what horrible thing the kid did to deserve it.”
Both Voriah and Rachmiel started. “What?”
Zohar shook his head. “There can’t be any other reason he didn’t get put in Hell. I’ve seen a lot of kids come through here, and I talk to the guardians of other schools. Without getting into specifics, yes, I’ve seen very young humans do things that deserve death. Would I mete it out on my own? No. But I could understand why Tabris might have been pardoned if there were extenuating circumstances.”
Rachmiel wrapped his arms around himself. “Wow. That would make it both better and worse.”
Voriah whistled low. “Elizabeth would be safe as long as she was innocent. Afterward, well, you call in backup.”
Rachmiel’s wings slumped. “I can’t believe that. Tabris hasn’t spoken about Sebastian at all, but he’d have mentioned if the kid had done something that evil.”
Zohar chuckled. “You couldn’t believe ill of anyone. Your name means Compassion.”
Rachmiel rolled his eyes. “Ask Voriah what Raguel had to do to get me to accept him.”
Looking disturbed, Voriah nodded.
The complicated projection settled on Zohar for several seconds before he absorbed all the information. Then he shrugged. “You’d see his good side anyhow. Last year you were trying to explain how Lucifer must have felt before he fell.”
“I never said he was justified, just that he might have thought he had a case.” Rachmiel bit his lip. “I don’t think Tabris is justified either. He’s in trouble. But that’s why he needs our help.”
“Because you certainly don’t need his.”
Rachmiel pivoted, glaring. Zohar recoiled, offered an apology, and left.
Voriah moved closer. His heartbeat steadied Rachmiel, who folded his arms. Rachmiel said, “Am I Tabris’s guardian too?”
Voriah smirked, as though to say, You’ve become his defender.
“I’m sure he has a reason, if only he’d tell us.” Rachmiel studied Elizabeth, then shuddered as if cold.
Voriah said, “Don’t think about it.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Well, then tell me.”
Rachmiel leaned further over the building’s edge and extended his heart to touch Elizabeth, and then, calmer, said, “I can’t imagine—but I guess I can imagine it—him sitting on the edge of that child’s bed one night and plotting to kill him. I can’t conceive of him premeditating the act, saying, this is how I’ll do it. God would have removed him once he decided.”
For the first time, the fourth angel spread his wings and moved closer. “Wouldn’t that compromise his free will?”
“Only if God removed him before the decision. The free will is in the decision, the way attempted murder and actual murder are the same.” Rachmiel squinted. “If he’d decided in advance, God might have removed him from the situation until he had a better grip.”
The dusky angel came very close and pitched his voice so they couldn’t be overheard. “Raguel came to my household also.”
Curiosity flooded him. Rachmiel leaned forward. Voriah moved nearer too.
The other angel said, “I don’t believe for a second the kid did something evil. Raguel’s having meetings with all the local guardians, he and the rest of the Seven. They’re talking about what happened and how we can take steps to prevent a repeat of Tabris. From what they said, my guess is Tabris had no plan.”
Voriah projected what a human would express as a gasp. “Thought and action were simultaneous? No time for second thoughts?”
“That’s what I understood. That’s why Raguel got involved.” The other angel glanced at Tabris. “I’m betting he acted on impulse, but he never stopped loving God. No one contests that he was wrong. He looks to me like he was ready to throw himself into Hell.”
Rachmiel took his gaze off Elizabeth and glanced at Tabris instead, who raised his head and returned the look. Rachmiel squinted and pointed at the girl. Tabris turned back to her.
Voriah laughed out loud. “That’ll show him!”
“I didn’t mean to be funny. He should be watching her.”
The dusk-colored angel frowned. “He doesn’t project anything, does he? I’d have expected him to radiate laughter or hurt, but I didn’t read a thing.”
“He just doesn’t,” said Voriah.
“I haven’t seen him laugh,” added Rachmiel.
The other angel settled on the edge, his feet hanging free against the wall. “But he knew the instant you focused on him. He must be one raw nerve.”
“He spent last night outside alone.” Rachmiel shook his head. “I’d have gone to him, but I wasn’t sure if he wanted it. He’s got to be reeling.”
Tabris’s power surrounded Elizabeth as she jumped for the ball and came inches away from crashing into another player. He sent Tabris his approval, then hesitated and glanced at the dusk-colored angel.
The other angel said, “Raguel advised us not to let pressure build up. That we needed to rely on each other.”
Rachmiel hummed. “Maybe I should try talking to him, then, rather than waiting.” He looked into the schoolyard at the only angel whose wings were two colors. “If I start by talking about Elizabeth, I might get him warmed up.”
Voriah sent a negation. “Remember that look he gave us the night he arrived, when he realized we’d been talking about him?”
Rachmiel winced.
The other angel said, “It must sting to be the object of that much attention. How would you feel?”
Rachmiel kept his heart trained on Elizabeth but closed his eyes, and he tried to imagine the shame of having committed a capital crime, then the unease of knowing everyone else knew exactly what he’d done. It felt like heat, like a spotlight. For a moment, he cringed with the same feeling that drove Adam to find cover in the garden.
“Whoa, Rock,” Voriah whispered. “Tone it down.”
The dusky angel said, “Pray for him. I think that’s all any of us can do right now.”
Rachmiel bit his lip. “I want to talk to him.”
The other angel shook his head. “Just let him know you’re available. When he’s ready, he’ll talk.”
Voriah snickered.
Rachmiel huffed, but the other angel projected confusion. Voriah said, “We’ll be waiting a long time if we wait for him to open up on his own.”
In the yard beneath, Tabris leaned against a fence, his eyes downcast, his attention centered on Elizabeth and not on the discussion of him that occupied an entire schoolyard full of angels after lunch.
Five
After two weeks, Josai’el appeared in Elizabeth’s bedroom as Rachmiel settled her dreams. “Come downstairs. We’re having a night off.”
Rachmiel pulled Tabris with him so Tabris wouldn’t take off the instant he could, by now a nightly ritual. A night off meant—well, a night off. After over a dozen days of mutual tension, they each needed it.
Once all eight of the household angels arrived, Josai’el asked Tabris, “Has Rachmiel explained?” Rachmiel flushed, and she laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. Once every few weeks, we’ll leave the house and have a break. All but one of us will go outside and we’ll have some activity for the night, like a picnic. The last one remains here on duty.”
Tabris looked uneasy, and Rachmiel remembered the first time he’d heard of this: he hadn’t wanted to leave Elizabeth either. But Tabris only said, “Is that safe?”
Rachmiel tensed. As if they’d do something that wasn’t?
Josia’el nodded. “Whomever stays behind places a Guard on the structure of the house. We can be recalled instantly.”
&nbs
p; Tabris frowned. “A Guard that size wouldn’t be able to repel demons acting in force. Whoever stays behind could be overwhelmed.”
“It hasn’t happened yet.” Katra’il sat on an end-table, her gold eyes sharp. “Didn’t your other household do this?”
Tabris flinched. “No.”
“I thought it strange too, when I arrived,” said Hadriel. “The other guardians in Connie’s family never left their charges, but it really does help to get out of the house as a group.”
Rachmiel wished he could read the feelings behind Tabris’s expressionless eyes.
Katra’il said, “Whose turn is it to stay behind?”
Oh, no. Of all the lousy timing. Rachmiel sighed. “It’s—”
“I’m staying,” said Miriael.
Before Rachmiel could protest, Miriael stood, his eyes glinting like silver. Forceful pressure from the other angel’s heart: not a compulsion, but assurance. “You go. Have a good time. You’ll have a turn soon enough.”
“Wait.” Tabris sounded uncertain, and Rachmiel wondered if he realized what Miriael had just done. “I can’t exceed two miles.”
Josai’el shrugged. “We’ll stay close. Whenever Connie or Bridget was pregnant we had this difficulty, but it’s easy enough to handle.”
When Tabris didn’t object again, Josai’el flashed seven of them a mile away, to a slope bordered by trees. Katra’il called a guitar to her hands and strummed the opening of Fleetwood Mac’s “Big Love,” but when Voriah tossed a fistful of leaves at her, she laughed and altered the strings so she could play Spanish guitar. Hadriel settled beneath a tree with a book.
Voriah sat beside Rachmiel. “Hey, we’ve got seven players! Who wants to play Settlers of the Cosmic Civilization?”
Mithra said, “Only if we can use all thirty-eight expansion sets.”
Voriah gave him a thumbs up. “I’m in! I’ll start setting it up, and by the time we get it all laid out, we’ll have to box it up again.”
Tabris was staring. Rachmiel said, “Don’t worry. They’re joking.” He flung his arms behind his head and lay looking into the sky. “Guess how long it’s been since my last nap?”
“At least eleven years?” said Josai’el.