by Lori Adams
Blood rushes to my face, burning my cheeks with a deep sort of yearning. I’m caught off guard by his intimate admission, lost within myself as he gazes into my eyes. We stare like holding hands. Everything else falls away when Michael looks at me with such longing. I don’t want to disturb anything. I want to keep Hope right here; I want to stand back and watch it grow and grow. Strong and vibrant above all else. Hope that I can make things right is all I have.
I clasp my hands to keep from reaching for him. I wonder if there will be a day when we can do as we please, hold each other without worry, without breaking any spiritual vows.
Heat pulsates between us like an electric charge, and I see that Michael is struggling to hide his emotions. Color rises to his cheeks while his fist clutches the hilt of his sword. His liquid blue eyes blink slowly, so heavy with need that it breaks my heart. I don’t want to fight this anymore. I can’t, and I raise my hand to cup his face.
“Sophia!” Raph calls out, causing us to flinch and step back. He pushes through the guests and wraps me in a hug. “Congratulations! Never had a doubt that you could do it.” He steps back and clasps my shoulders, grinning. I instinctively look away, afraid he’ll sense my desire for Michael, or worse, notice my missing soul. “Hey, you’re coming to our house, right? You know Mom and Dad planned a private party?” He continues without missing a beat. He has failed to learn anything from me, and I’m flooded with relief. Maybe this is going to work after all.
Michael clears his throat. “I was just telling her about that. In case she wants to stop by and—”
“Mom’d be disappointed if you didn’t come.” Raph ignores Michael and drapes an arm around my shoulder, leading me away. “Can I tell her you’ll be there?”
“Of course. I was just on my way to change.”
Raph deposits me at the dressing chamber, where I turn and look back for Michael. He is gone.
“Congratulations!” Milvi calls from inside the chamber and then throws her arms around me. She is strong and thin beneath the red silk dress. Milvi and I sparred during my training, and I have considerable respect for her fighting skills. She’ll make a great guardian someday.
“I knew you could do it. And remember, if you ever want your butt kicked again, just ask and I’ll make myself available.” She laughs with genuine delight. If Milvi sensed that I lacked a soul, I have no doubt she would demand an answer. Immediately. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong, and I’m gaining confidence that my trick has worked. How long it will continue to fool everyone, I have no idea.
“You’re going to Katarina’s party, right?” Milvi asks, and then turns without waiting for an answer. I follow her inside the dressing chamber. It’s a cool, comfortable space—every girl’s ultimate dream closet—with shelves of shoes, racks of dresses, skirts, pants, and tops. The walls are lined with shimmering gowns, and there are accessories everywhere. At a glance, the decor is a display of 1940s chic, with elegant blacks, grays, silvers, and creams. A chic black rug takes up the majority of the gray marble floor, on which a shimmering silver sofa rests next to a tailored gray chair. Massive mirrors in heavy silver frames lean against the walls, and several delicate chandeliers sparkle overhead. A black armoire with mirrored doors stands in the corner next to an elaborate cream-colored sideboard with a silver tea set and a variety of colorful little cakes. Milvi bites into a tiny frosted cake before sifting through the clothing for options in her size.
“It’s a casual party so don’t worry too much,” she says, selecting black tights, a miniskirt, tall boots, and several shirts in varying lengths to layer with. As she heads for one of the changing rooms, I stand rooted in place. The bloody clothes that Chang`e was kind enough to help me shed before the ceremony are still where I left them, in an ugly pool on the floor outside my changing room door. I stare at the pile, remembering Wolfgang’s black demon blood splashing across my shirt as I decapitated him. My pants, slashed by his claws, are covered in my own blood and remind me that my shins still ache despite the medicinal goop that Chang`e spread across them. Less than two hours ago, I almost died at the hands of a monster, and now my soul is probably on its way to Hell. How am I still standing?
I stiffen my spine and put the question out of my head. I have no regrets about anything I’ve done—creating Ka, which helped me become a spirit walker, or killing Wolfgang. Of course, I wish I’d kept a closer eye on Ka, but Wolfgang deserved what I did to him, and more. I won’t waste another thought on him.
Lucky for me, I don’t need to. My goal now is to do as Rama said: ride this evening into the shallows and then get answers about Ka. The physical pain of losing my soul has dissolved. It’s those dark visions that accompanied it that worry me. My instinct tells me that I am seeing what Ka is experiencing. As disturbing as the images are, I believe it’s a good sign. It means that Dante didn’t actually kill her. So as bizarre as it sounds, I’m hoping he took her to Hell, alive.
With my mind set, I move silently among the clothes, running my fingertips over silk and satin, suede and wool. I don’t care much about what I wear now, just that we get on with the evening. Eventually I select something warm and modest: black skinny jeans, a thick gray sweater, and black ankle boots. I step into the dressing room next to Milvi’s and strip down.
“Hey,” she calls. “Rama told you about the transition, right?”
“Huh?” I sound muffled from under the sweater sliding over my head. Milvi makes a few disparaging remarks about my Ascended Master, and then explains the process. Unlike guardians, who convert into spirit form in whatever clothes they might be wearing, spirit walkers will transition into the clothes they selected for their ceremonial attire. When I’m called to help a lost soul, I’ll convert from human form into spirit form, and everything I wore during the holy sacrament—everything that was blessed—will appear. Clothing and weapons. I’m excited at the prospect of it all, especially saving my first soul. But now I worry that my missing soul might prevent me from helping someone cross over. I add it to the list of questions I have for Rama, the moment we can be alone to discuss the newest mess I’ve gotten us into.
Once I’ve changed, Milvi says to leave my ceremonial clothes there, so I arrange them with my weapons on the sideboard for safekeeping. Then we head out. We work our way around the hectic meadow and through the guests with their congratulatory wishes. It doesn’t go unnoticed that most everyone is regarding me with a certain amount of curiosity or a particular sense of awe. Some even bow their heads as I pass by, as though I’m someone above their station of Halo or Guardian or Seer or even Messenger for The Council of Guardians. Milvi has no response when I ask her about it. She’s pretending ignorance and I drop it, since I have enough on my plate to worry about.
Rama and Michael are near the door when we approach. Rama is fidgety and eager to leave. Michael has changed into jeans and a dark blue shirt. He is in the center of a crowd, swamped by congratulating pats on the back and vigorous handshakes. So many friends and warriors have come to offer their praise, and young guardians to ask his advice. Their admiration and respect is obvious, and Michael favors them with a patient smile. His mind is on other matters.
When he sees me, his face stills, and then he breaks away, making vague excuses to his admirers. We meet at the door, where Milvi is entertaining Rama with her dramatic and overdescriptive view of the ceremony. He listens politely while she points out holy dignitaries who’ve attended or friends from Estonia whom she hasn’t seen in ages. I realize I haven’t congratulated Michael on becoming a Halo so I tell him now. He smiles and cocks his head in a faint bow.
“And congratulations to you, too, spirit walker Sophia.” His voice is soft and thick with emotion. “I’m happy for you. You’ve earned your place.” His smile is warm and loving, and I know he means it. Michael is truly happy for me.
His gaze lingers longer than necessary. He wants to say more, much more, but Rama is watching us. Without a word, my Ascended Master steps bet
ween us and takes my elbow, deliberately guiding me out the door.
With no moon or stars, we are instantly swallowed by the night. Snowflakes dance around the four of us as we traipse up the thick path leading to the Patronus farmhouse. It’s a short trek that moves organically through trees, across an open field, and around Katarina’s extensive garden. We’re nearly there when I realize I’m not as cold as I should be. I stop and scoop snow into my hands. It’s chilled but not so icy.
“Why don’t I feel the cold?”
Everyone turns and looks back at me. Milvi laughs and smashes the snowball I’ve made. “Because you have spiritual energy rushing through your veins. Rama didn’t tell you what to expect?”
Rama is distracted, and I suspect he’s been preoccupied with more important issues. He comes around to the question. “Oh, for sure. I’ll tell her what to expect. There just hasn’t been time yet. Lots of changes coming, wahine. And for you, too, Michael. Now that you’re a Halo.”
Rama and Michael lock eyes for a moment, and then Michael gives him a sharp nod. He seems well aware of the duties and expectations required of an elite warrior. The details are lost on me. I don’t want to think about Michael being called away or sent on a mission. We haven’t had time to settle things between us. If he’s called up now, we might not see each other for a very long time. The idea makes a knot of my stomach.
The Victorian farmhouse is situated at the top of a gentle hill. It’s a glorious sight, with numerous peaks and dormers heavy with snow. Tall, beveled windows glow with soft light. Smoke drifts from the chimney, adding a pleasant, earthy aroma to the frigid smell of snow. We plod up the steps and onto the sprawling back porch, stomping snow from our shoes. Milvi bursts out laughing because Rama’s huarache sandals have disappeared completely. He looks like he’s wearing two giant snowballs.
I manage a faint smile. Milvi’s laughter reminds me that this should’ve been a night for celebration. Rama deserves some fun after all the stress I’ve put him through during my training. Unfortunately, I’ve ruined that, too. After we thank Michael’s family for their good wishes, Rama and I will have to leave. I’m sure he’s feeling just as desperate to find Bailey as I am. We have to know what happened to Ka.
We pile through the back door and then stop in the hallway, overcome by an angry shouting voice coming from the living room.
“You promised to protect her! You gave me your word that nothing would happen to her! You’re angels, for God’s sake! How could you let this happen?”
“Please, calm down so that we may understand what has you so upset.” Katarina addresses the outburst in her characteristically patient tone.
Michael and I look quickly at each other. We can’t comprehend what we’re hearing. Or how it’s even possible.
Milvi murmurs “Uh-oh,” and pushes past us. We follow hard on her heels, down the hall and into the living room. I stop cold.
“Dad?”
He whirls around, just as stunned to see me as I am to see him.
—
Everyone is there: Katarina, Dimitri, Raph, Gabe, Uriel with some bird perched on his shoulder, Uncle Pavvo, and Aunt Sasha. And Dad, standing in his black tuxedo in the middle of the living room looking as though he might faint. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are frozen on me. I glance around the room, taking it all in. Michael’s family appears calm, while Dad—who shouldn’t even be here—is catatonic.
“Dad…what’s going on? How do you know—”
Katarina places a comforting hand on Dad’s shoulder and gestures to me. “See there, she’s fine. Everything is fine.”
Dad blinks hard. “Sophia how…” He grabs me roughly in a painful hug. He is overcome with emotions and clings to me.
“Dad, how can you be here? I mean…how do you know about…” He steps back, gripping my shoulders tightly and looking me up and down.
“Thank God you’re all right.” He breathes. “I saw you dancing with Dante and then…and then you were gone. In the blink of an eye, Sophia. I looked away for just a moment and you were gone.”
Oh shit.
Dante must have found Ka at the dance. He knew that she, that I, would be there with J.D. This proves what I’ve feared. If Dad saw Ka and Dante together, then Dante has surely Taken Ka to Hell. There is my answer.
I look at Rama and see that he’s putting things together as well. So we know what happened to Ka. We know I was seen with Dante at the dance. I’ll have to play along with Dad’s version; but that doesn’t explain what he’s doing here.
“Yes, I’m fine, Dad. Really. I was…shocked to see Dante at the dance so I left. Immediately.” He nods with vague understanding as though trying to believe me. I don’t want to give him time to think it through. “But, Dad, how did you know to come here? I mean, I heard you shouting just now. You know everything? You know what’s been going on?”
Dad releases me and runs a hand over his face. He looks exhausted and about ten years older. He’s obviously been through an emotional upheaval tonight. Unraveling his bow tie, he walks across the room where Aunt Sasha hands him a drink, since it looks like he could use one.
After tossing it back, he coughs, unaccustomed to alcohol. “I came because…your mother sent me here.” His voice is slow and heavy, more from emotion and less from liquor. He looks at me. “I could hardly believe her…it was so incredible.”
“When?” I step closer, eager to hear. “When did she ask you to come here?”
He looks down into the glass, his chin quivering. “That night. In the courthouse when…that demon killed you.” He drinks the rest quickly, and then grips the tumbler, forcing himself to continue. “When you were Taken and I was passed out on the floor, useless—pathetically useless—Celeste appeared to me. In a dream, I suppose. And she told me that you were not lost. You would return to your body and that I was to ask Katarina and Dimitri for help. She explained they were angels for The Council of Guardians. She said they would keep an eye on you while you trained to become a spirit walker. She said it was a dangerous calling but you were destined to it.”
All eyes swing to Michael’s parents. I remember how gracious they’ve always been, eager to invite me over, and so happy when my training finally began. Now I understand why. Mom had intervened.
“Celeste was particularly afraid that Dante would not give up,” Dimitri offers to explain the question I’ve yet to ask. “We feared she was right, too. So we asked Raph and Milvi to pay close attention to—”
“Why didn’t you ask me?” Michael explodes, startling everyone. “Katarina. Dimitri. You should have told me. What right do you have to keep this from me?” He has the hardened look of a warrior and speaks to his parents as though he now outranks them, which, I’m surprised to realize, he does. Michael once explained to me that Halo warriors are much like archangels. They are to be obeyed by all other angels.
Katarina and Dimitri look noticeably uncomfortable. “We didn’t think it was necessary to tell you,” Dimitri says calmly. “Your own trials had begun, and then after the way you reacted to her Ascended Master’s arrival…” His accusation fades and everyone looks at Rama.
Dad whirls around and looks at Rama. “So you’re the one? You’ve been training my daughter to help lost souls cross over?”
Rama bows his head respectfully and then extends his hand. “Rama Kuan, here. Totally stoked to finally meet you, Pops. Sorry about sneaking in and out of your casa grande. Most parents aren’t hip to the training.”
Dad shakes Rama’s hand and actually smiles. His fear has abated and he seems happy. “Good to meet you, Mr. Kuan. How is Sophia doing? With her trials?”
“Call me Rama. And your little wahine did awesome. She’s totally completed her trials. Just tonight. Already been accepted into the Fold of spiritual warriors. We just came from the ceremony. It was righteous and pure.” Rama grins and nods like a pigeon.
Dad’s brow twitches with confusion. He looks at me. “So that means you did it? It’s over
? You’re a spirit walker now?”
I smile and hold out my right hand, pulsating with a faint blue light. Dad says “What?” and takes my hand, squeezing it. I’ve forgotten that ordinary humans can’t see my Chelsea Light. I tell him about it and watch his eyes grow wide with wonder. He opens my hand and inspects it. “Incredible. I don’t see a thing.”
I burst out laughing. It’s nervous energy. I can’t believe the bizarre turn of events: finding out that Dad has known all along about my training, and about Michael and his family. For the first time since the ceremony, I remember all that I’ve gained, not just what I’ve lost. Dad hugs me again, telling me he’s so proud he can hardly believe it. My eyes cut to Michael, and the joy seeps away. He is glaring at his parents, his face hardened and his nostrils flaring. He is holding back a storm.
Whatever is going on between them, I don’t think Dad or Rama or I should bear witness. So I make our excuses to leave, claiming that I want to tell Dad all about my training. There is an awkward silence because no one seems to be in the mood to celebrate anymore, not with Michael radiating such anger. And then Uriel’s bird takes flight, wheeling around the room and making a strange cry. It lands directly on top of my head. Milvi is horrified and demands that Uriel fetch it. She tries to shoo it away while Uriel laughs.
“It’s a good omen, right?” Dad asks as the bird taps its feet on my scalp. I feel it peck at my dreadlocks. “A bird on the head, will keep you well fed?”
“Only if I kill it and eat it,” I murmur, embarrassed. “Uriel, do you mind?” He raises his hand and the bird swoops across the room. Settled back on Uriel’s shoulder, it digs a treat from the pile of seeds in his palm.