Errant Angel

by Justine Davis

  “You expect me to believe this?”

  “How else could I know all those things?”

  He shook his head sharply, as if trying to clear it. “What rules?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You mentioned rules. And that you were breaking a big one by telling me this...tall tale.”

  Dutifully, even knowing he wouldn’t believe her, she recited them. “No violence. No lying, except by omission or when necessary to keep to the rest of the rules. No interference with anything that doesn’t have a direct bearing on your mission.” She gave him a wry smile. “I’ve been having a little trouble with that one lately.”

  His expression changed slightly, as if he knew she’d meant because of him. But he only asked, “And the one you broke?”

  She sighed. “That no one ever finds out who—or what—you are.”

  “Like anyone would believe it anyway,” he muttered.

  She’d done all she could do. Angie got to her feet and gathered up her clothes, pulling them on hastily, aware of his eyes on her and the fact that he was standing there, naked, giving her a full view of the body she’d loved from head to toe just a few hours ago.

  “That’s it?” he asked as he watched her make ready to go. “You just walk away, after that...story?”

  “I’ve told you everything there is to tell. What you do about it is up to you.” She picked up her purse. “But think about it, Dalton. Think about it and you’ll see that there really is no other explanation for how I know what I know. And think about the fact that if I was going to lie, why on earth would I make up such a ludicrous one?”

  She got to the door and started to open it. Then she turned back. “I was wrong. There is one more thing worth telling you. It wasn’t supposed to happen, either. But it did. You can think about this, too.”

  “What?” he asked tiredly.

  “I love you.”

  His eyes widened, and his face paled. Slowly, like a dazed animal, he shook his head, his stunned gaze never leaving her face. Her mouth twisted painfully.

  “I didn’t think you’d want it,” she said tightly.

  She pulled the door quietly shut behind her. She thought she heard her name, faint and anguished, and she waited, but the door stayed closed. She left, feeling more exhausted than she ever had in her life.

  Eleven

  When she got home she found that Jimmy had come looking for her four hours ago. Guilt swept her; she hadn’t been there for him. He’d seemed upset, Mrs. Webster said. And more upset when he found out she was gone. He’d left on that bike of his, the older woman said, riding like a crazy person.

  She dragged herself upstairs and collapsed into the big chair, castigating herself mercilessly. She’d selfishly been with Dalton, while the boy she was here to help had needed her. Remembering that that was about the time the bosses had signaled her, she felt even worse. She’d really done it now, she thought. The next time they called her, it would no doubt be to fire her.

  Well, maybe she’d just save them the trouble.

  She reached for the pendant. The connection was so immediate she knew they’d been waiting. Fine, now that she’d made an irretrievable jumble out of things.

  Where have you been? What have you been doing all this time?

  Ah, we’ve been...busy.

  Odd, she thought. If they were human, she would have thought they were equivocating.

  Evangeline—

  Don’t bother telling me. I know I’ve messed up everything.

  Well, things are a bit confused...

  No. I really have messed up, this time. I guess I’m just not cut out for this work.

  She meant it. She’d finally come to believe what they’d always told her. She was too headstrong to do this job well. She’d indulged herself, convinced herself that she could help both Jimmy and Dalton, and had instead wound up hurting them both.

  Dear girl—

  I should have let you pull me when you wanted to. Now you have to.

  We do?

  I told you. I’ve ruined everything. But please, don’t give up on Jimmy because of me. He could be such a good kid, if you give him half a chance. Or send in someone who’s good at this.

  Evangeline, stop—

  Look, I know that you were giving me one last chance to sink or swim. To prove myself. That’s why you left me alone all this time, isn’t it? Well, all I’ve proved is that I’m incompetent. You have to pull me and put in someone who can really help.

  You’re being much too hard on yourself.

  She went on as if they hadn’t answered.

  Would you please do me one last favor? Would you...erase me from Jimmy’s mind? And...Dalton’s? I know I don’t have any right to ask, but please? For their sake? Jimmy’s already come to trust me a little, it would only make things worse for him if I just disappear. And Dalton—

  She broke off, trying desperately to hide her pain.

  He doesn’t deserve this, she told them. Not more pain. He was starting to reach out, and then I—

  Evangeline.

  Her stomach knotted; it was the big boss.

  Yes, sir.

  It is too late to pull you now. And there is no one else available. You’re going to have to finish this. And soon. It’s up to you to save that boy. Do you understand?

  But I—

  It’s time you stopped thinking about yourself, was the stern answer. Think about that boy. The rest of his life hangs in the balance.

  She sat there clutching the pendant for a long time after the connection had been broken.

  * * *

  The tapping on her door was faint but definite.

  “Evangeline?”

  Angie sat up in her lonely, cold bed and yawned. She’d been a fool to even try going to sleep. You didn’t sleep when you’d made a ruin out of two people’s lives and your own.

  The tapping came again. She shook her head. “Yes, Mrs. Webster. What is it?”

  Through the closed door the elderly woman’s voice was muffled. “Sorry to...Kirkland...Wants...talk... She’s down...parlor.”

  Jimmy.

  It had to be. Why else would Mrs. Kirkland be here at this hour?

  She slid quickly out of bed and threw on a robe. She opened the door, apologized to Mrs. Webster about the intrusion and the late hour, then scurried downstairs.

  Maggie Kirkland was sitting in a big, upholstered chair whose back and arms were covered with Mrs. Webster’s ubiquitous crocheted doilies. She looked exhausted, not only in face and posture, but emotionally. Angie could feel the weariness coming off the woman in waves.

  She crossed the room and knelt beside the chair.

  “What is it, Maggie?” she asked softly. “Jimmy?”

  Maggie looked up then, her eyes both tired and sad. “He’s gone. I’ve been driving all over, looking for him. I tried the movie theater, the convenience store that has the video games....”

  She shook her head wearily. “I even called the garage, but Mr. MacKay said he wasn’t there. Bob had to stay in Santa Barbara tonight, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. Jimmy seemed to like you so much, I thought he might have come to you.”

  Guilt stabbed at Angie anew. “He did. I...wasn’t here.”

  Maggie Kirkland sighed. “I’m sure he’s with those awful boys.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He always goes out with them when he’s angry.”

  “Mrs. Webster said he seemed upset. Did something go wrong at the meeting?”

  “Not in the beginning. I was so proud of Jimmy, he was so calm, and well-behaved. He seemed like he’d done some real growing up. We were afraid when he saw Jimmy’s grades, Mr. Power—that’s the social worker—would take him away, so we took the work he’s done in your class with us, to show he was trying more now. We tried to tell Mr. Power that, but he kept harping about everything that was going wrong instead of what was going right. Jimmy finally lost hope.”

  Angie’s heart sank
. “What did he do?”

  “He tried to explain, but then he started looking sullen again, you know how he does. Then Mr. Power lectured him about his attendance at school, and told him that if he didn’t shape up, he would land in juvenile hall. We would probably never see him again, then.”

  “There are some who would say you’d be better off,” Angie said gently.

  “I know. Sometimes, God forgive me, I’ve even thought that myself. But it seems—so unfair, to give up on him now. I’d hoped he was turning around. He seemed so much happier, since Mr. MacKay came, and then when you came he even started to take an interest in school....”

  Angie saw tears begin to well up in the woman’s eyes. She reached out and laid her fingers atop the other woman’s tightly knotted hands. She got a rush of the woman’s exhaustion, and her genuine concern for the boy who had caused her so much grief. If Jimmy could just get past his anger, he could have a home here. A real home. This woman had more than enough love to give, and she had enough of a giver’s heart to want to give it to this troubled boy.

  “It’s going to be all right, Maggie,” Angie said softly. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll find Jimmy.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t you worry.” She sent the woman a wave of reassurance, the strongest she could muster. “Just get some rest. He’ll be home by morning. I promise you.”

  Looking somewhat puzzled, Maggie nodded, then stood. Angie led her to the door, then stood watching until she was safely inside the house across the street. Then she turned and raced back upstairs to pull on jeans, heavy socks under her athletic shoes, and a thick, warm, red sweater.

  “That boy,” Mrs. Webster, who was waiting by the front door when she came down, intoned severely, “is more trouble than he’s worth.”

  Angie paused, looking at the older woman. “Sometimes I think the more they’re worth, the more trouble they are, Mrs. Webster.”

  She only hoped Jimmy wouldn’t make a liar out of her.

  * * *

  The Chevy coughed gently, and Angie glanced at the dash. “I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, glaring at the needle of the gas gauge as it hovered over the E. Slowly the needle climbed. She didn’t push her luck; a quarter of a tank ought to do it.

  She’d begun at the courthouse, where she’d run into Jimmy and his pack of rowdy friends before, but there had been no sign. She’d found a broken window and a half-empty carton of cigarettes lying beneath a rack of lighters at the drugstore, and felt a spurt of hope; if they’d gotten away with this theft, then perhaps they’d leave it at that.

  She didn’t want to drive by the garage, but the big boss’s words echoed in her mind. Think about that boy. The rest of his life hangs in the balance. She had no right to avoid pain herself if it would cost Jimmy.

  The garage was dark. So was the room above. Was Dalton sleeping peacefully, relieved that he had escaped an obviously crazy woman?

  Stop worrying about yourself, she ordered silently. But the command did nothing to stop the sudden stinging of her eyes.

  She wouldn’t cry, she told herself fiercely. She hadn’t cried in over a hundred years, and she wasn’t going to start now. She just wasn’t. She was going to stop this nonsense and find Jimmy.

  She pulled to the side of the road and shut off the car. She hadn’t tried a probing search yet, because of the cost in time and the drain on her energy. It was difficult to do when you didn’t know where to aim your thoughts, and had to cover wide areas to find your subject. But she wasn’t gaining anything by driving around, chasing wild guesses.

  She’d quarter the town, she thought. That made for fairly large areas, but anything smaller, while potentially more accurate, would take more time. She’d do the area around the garage first, then the area around the high school—they might have gone back for more graffiti—then back to the Kirkland’s—

  No, she’d check the Kirklands’ first, just in case Jimmy had shown up back home. Maggie would have no way to reach her. She leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and stretched out her senses.

  Jimmy hadn’t come home. She hadn’t really expected it to be that easy, but it had been worth a try. She shifted then, to the area around the garage, probing for the pattern that was unmistakably Jimmy’s. She found only the faint, lingering traces left by his frequent presence.

  And she found something else, something she hadn’t meant to, although she supposed her senses were so attuned to him she couldn’t help it. Dalton was gone. The room above the garage was empty.

  She sat up a little straighter, her hands instinctively going to the big steering wheel for support. Maggie said she had called him. Was it possible that he, too, was out looking for the boy? Had there been that much softening in that hard, implacable man? Did she dare hope that she’d accomplished at least that, that her time here hadn’t been a complete failure?

  It’s time you stopped thinking about yourself.

  The big boss’s words rang in her head once again, this time taking on the tone of a tolling bell.

  It was a bell. The town fire bell, summoning the small volunteer fire department.

  An image flashed through her mind, the science teacher beside her, pointing out Allen and another boy. The two who had been expelled last year for setting the fire in the school library. Instantly she shifted her target zone, concentrating her efforts on the high school.

  She got it almost immediately. The crackle of flames flaring unexpectedly out of control, the insidious, deadly billows of smoke...and four frightened boys, caught in a trap of their own making.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d nudged the Chevy a little, or if the powerful motor had really gotten her there in less than a minute. She didn’t even care; she left the car parked crazily and started toward the school buildings at a run. She realized she’d automatically yanked the keys from the ignition, and shoved them into her pocket in irritation at wasting even that precious split second of time. She knew she was faster than any normal person, but she still wished for more speed as she spotted the smoke rising in dark, ominous clouds from the back of the science building, the oldest one at the school.

  She heard the sirens of the town’s two fire engines, but they seemed much too distant. She went over the six-foot, chain-link fence in a scrambling leap, barely noticing Jimmy’s brightly colored bike leaning against it. She came down running. The closer she got, the more vivid the images became. She was reading Jimmy clearly now, was getting his fear and his remorse.

  She ran harder, knowing now just how serious the situation was. They’d broken into the chemistry lab with the intention of trashing the place, but the temptation of the old Bunsen burners and the various chemicals and the stolen cigarette lighters had been too much to resist. Now the fire that had followed the explosion they’d managed to create had them trapped in the tiny back storage room, itself dangerously full of more fuel.

  The ominous orange light was obvious the moment she turned the corner, lighting the windows with a frightful glow. When she got closer, she could see the flames flaring up, licking at the ceiling of the room.

  She knew they had gotten in through a window they’d broken, but she didn’t have time to search for it. The sirens were closer now, but it would still take too long for the four boys. The fire was closing in, and she had to get to them.

  She went straight to the door, already able to feel the heat from behind it. She knew what would happen when she opened it, so she began to build the protective cloak she would need to get through the flames. She summoned it up swiftly, knowing there was so very little time to waste. The instant she saw that the dim, oddly fluorescent glow had surrounded her, she reached for the doorknob.

  It was hot, she was aware of that, but felt no pain. It was also locked, but she gave it a focused look as she turned it; it clicked and gave.

  The flames boiled out at her, hungry for the new source of oxygen she’d provided. But the cloak held, and the fire divided around her like a racing stream
around a small but stubborn rock. She walked into the inferno.

  It was all she could do to maintain the cloak and get through the wreckage of the room. The smoke was black and thick and, with all the chemicals, probably full of noxious fumes, she thought. Dodging the debris of the furnishings made it worse.

  By the time she made it to the storage room door, the flames were already there. It would be burned through in seconds, she thought, moving quickly. She used the cloak to hold back the flames until she got inside and shut the door once more.

  The boys were huddled on the floor, their eyes wide with fright. All traces of toughness were gone from them now; Allen’s face bore the telltale traces of tears.

  Jimmy saw her first.

  “Ms. Law?” he exclaimed in astonishment, then coughed; the smoke was getting through. The others merely gaped at her as if she were some fire-induced apparition.

  “Get down,” she ordered them. “In the corner. Close to the floor, where there’s more oxygen.”

  They were already on the floor, but at her command scooted quickly into the corner farthest from the fire and hunkered down even more.

  “Face the wall,” she ordered again. “Put your arms over your heads. And don’t look around. That smoke could be poisonous, with all those chemicals, or it could burn your eyes.”

  Thoroughly chastened, the boys did as directed without question. When she was certain they weren’t looking, she shifted the cloak, moving it from around her and shaping it into a shield to seal off this end of the room. It was a stretch, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long, but she heard the wailing sirens stop suddenly, close by, and knew the fire department was here. She could only hope they wouldn’t take too long to get to this room.

  She thought of trying to get through a wall to the outside, but she couldn’t relinquish the shield that long; the flames would be on them before she could do it. It was incredibly lucky that all four boys had been in one place; she’d never have been able to save them all if they’d been spread out. She could already feel the draining of her strength—