“Shall we try somewhere else?” Sarah asked.
I shook my head. “This was a bust. Let’s go home.”
13
That night, I put a candle in my window. As I lit it and blew out the match, I stared out the window into the dark night sky, imagining Zack looking in from wherever he was. I imagined that angels resided somewhere “up there” in Heaven, even though it didn’t quite jibe with what I knew about space from science class. There wasn’t so much an “up” as an infinite space around us. Where were God and the angels supposed to be, exactly?
I remembered that archangels in Vito’s book were described as an alien race—and hadn’t Zack said something along those lines?
As the rising heat from the candle’s flame warmed my face, I thought about the story of the original fallen angels, who had come down to earth as shooting stars and burned through to the core of Earth. Hell, where the demons resided, had to be located somewhere below the earth’s surface. Even though one would have thought geologists might have noticed some evidence of that by now.
I sighed and went to bed, giving up on trying to amalgamate the two world-views—the one I had always taken for granted and the one I had recently been confronted with. Instead of worrying about the bigger picture, I needed to concentrate on the problem at hand.
And even though Zack had made it clear to me that he disapproved of this wish and that he wasn’t happy with me picking it, I needed his help. Fair enough if he didn’t want to tell me who Sam’s father was. All I wanted was for him to put me in contact with a real witch, and I would take it from there.
I planned on being open and honest with him about my fears for my sisters. I would explain to him why I couldn’t drop this wish, no matter how much he didn’t want me involved in this particular situation. I would make him understand that I needed to fulfill Sam’s Christmas wish and that my interest in Sam’s father didn’t go beyond that. Of course, I was really curious, but the man could have been Lucifer himself for all I cared—as long as he spent a little bit of time with his son on December twenty-fifth.
Surely, Zack wouldn’t leave me hanging, right?
Wrong.
The next day, I walked to “our” bench on my lunch break and waited for him to meet me there as per my candle request.
He didn’t show.
I sat there for almost an hour, freezing my ass off, and went through the seven stages of being stood up: anticipation, slight irritation, dissipating hope, frustration, anger, self-doubt, and wrath.
I managed to get through my shift at the diner. I only broke a few cups and plates, served people wrong orders, and spent a good while in the bathroom, crying. Aunt Jeannie was tiptoeing around me, and the customers didn’t dare talk to me anymore.
During dinner with my family, I didn’t mumble so much as a word. Then I showered and threw myself a pity party in my room, complete with a nonrebellious seventeen-year-old’s equivalent of booze—chocolate cake.
I almost ate the entire thing—a mini chocolate cake that hadn’t even defrosted thoroughly and which I assumed Allison had taken out of the freezer for a another reason than for me to binge on. I ate it in my bed while watching Carrie on my iPad. I didn’t even bother to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Instead, I fell asleep with my bedside table light on.
Next thing I knew, I woke up with a start. There was a bright light in my room that must have somehow penetrated my closed eyelids and pulled me out of unconsciousness. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut again, but then I held my hand up and blinked.
“Wha…” I croaked. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. “What the fu—” The light became less bright, and I saw feathers.
I blinked again. Indeed, what I saw were Zack’s majestic angel wings. I had seen them before, so they weren’t a complete and utter surprise to me, but I was still in awe. They filled the entire room, it seemed. Then they faded out—that was the best way to describe it—and disappeared.
Zack was standing in front of my bed. He was still quite a sight, even without the wings.
Before I could tell myself to close my mouth and wipe away the spittle, he leaned over me in a rather threatening manner. “What were you thinking?” he hissed. “Didn’t I tell you to leave this alone, Stella? But no, you had to completely ignore my advice and go ahead with this wish, anyway.” His eyes held pure fire.
I sat up and rubbed a hand over my face, trying to hide the tears that had sprung into my eyes. I hated it when Zack was mad at me, and this attack had taken me by surprise, to say the least.
“I’m sorry that I’ve made you so angry.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound cracked, but I couldn’t mask how hurt I was.
Zack took in a slow breath. Then he sat down on the side of my bed. I peeked through my fingers.
“I’m not angry at you,” he said in a much milder tone. “I’m concerned. I worry about you, Stella. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and if you get mixed up in this…” His eyes still burned but with a different kind of fire.
I put my hand down and looked at him, trying to figure out what he was feeling.
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that on your face? It looks like”—he leaned closer, peering at something next to my mouth, and frowned—“your freckles smudged?”
Mortified, I furiously rubbed my face. The chocolate cake! “Nothing,” I mumbled.
I was suddenly very much aware that this gorgeous guy was sitting mere inches away from me, on my bed, at night, while I only wore panties and a T-shirt—an old, too-small High School Musical T-shirt. But that wasn’t the worst of it. I had gone to bed with wet hair, so I could only guess how matted and hideous it looked. Added to that was the chocolate cake on my face. Hugely embarrassing. I felt foolish for even dreaming about Zack liking me.
Self-consciously, I smoothed my hair, pulling it forward to hide my face, and crossed my arms in front of my chest—yes, I was one of those girls with whom it was noticeable when I didn’t wear a bra.
Zack, apparently unaware of my self-consciousness, continued with a fervent voice. “Sure, you’ll have to deal with it eventually, but it’s too soon. You’re not ready. And I can’t risk… we can’t risk—”
I didn’t even know what he was talking about. “Listen,” I interrupted, casting a look at Zack from behind my hair curtain. “I can’t unpick this wish. I just can’t. Remember what happened last time? I cannot risk something like that happening to my family again. I committed to this wish, and I’ll pursue it ’til the end. I don’t even understand how you can tell me not to after you made it so clear last time that I have to stay committed. Plus, it came to me in a dream. That must mean something, right?”
I talked faster and faster because I could tell that he was trying to interrupt me. When I mentioned the dream, though, he seemed to reconsider.
“Maybe you are ready, after all.” He spoke so quietly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. He sighed. “I would have preferred to keep this going for a while, though, keep you safe a little while longer.” His eyes looked so incredibly sad.
I shook my head in confusion. “Ready for what? What do you mean by—”
Zack suddenly jumped up.
“There’s an angel object in this room.” He looked around, clearly agitated. “I didn’t notice it straight away because I was so worried about you, but now…” He walked around the room. “I can sense it.”
“An angel… What?”
“Something an angel made,” he responded impatiently. He had started rifling through my desk drawers and pulled out something. “Here it is… a book. Where did you get this?”
“Show me.”
He held it up. It was Vito’s book.
I bit my lip. “What do you mean, made by an angel?”
“This book was made by an angel, Stella! How did you get this?” He sounded really tense and thumbed through the pages. “This is… this is written by Metatron. Why would he…”
Metatron? He was the mediat
or archangel between God and the other archangels. “How do you know?”
“It’s like a… watermark. This is Metatron’s.” He charged toward my bed. “Stella, you have to tell me right away who gave this to you.”
I pulled up the covers in defense. “Why are you so worked up?”
“Because this is a big deal. Tell me right now.”
“I can’t, okay?” I spat back at him.
Zack just stared at me.
“A friend gave it to me. He’s in hiding for whatever reason, and he probably risked a lot getting this to me. I can’t betray his trust by telling you.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Sorry.” I gave him a rueful smile. “I realize you can probably travel back in time and find out for yourself how I got this book. But I just don’t feel comfortable telling you.”
Zack tilted his head and fixed me with a stare. I averted my eyes, feeling intensely uncomfortable in more ways than one. I wondered how long I could stand my ground before he broke me. To my surprise, he kind of zoned out. His eyes glazed over, and he looked as if he was somewhere else.
A few seconds later, he shook himself. “I have to go, Stella. I have to take care of something.” He rushed toward me and grabbed my arm. “But listen to me. I want you to stay away from the person who gave you this. Maybe you’re ready to find out the truth, but I don’t want you stumbling into this before I can prepare you properly.”
Dazed, I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is anyway. He—”
“And don’t proceed with this wish before I give you the go-ahead, promise? I need to check out a few things first, and we need to be really cautious.”
“But… I need to do something in order to—”
Before I finished stuttering my objection, a blinding light filled the room again, and Zack disappeared in it.
“Stay committed, keep my grace, and ward off evil.” I finished the sentence alone in my room, which was now only illuminated by the light from my bedside table lamp again.
I hadn’t been scared of the dark since I was a little girl. But after Zack’s confusing visit with his vague but urgent warnings against a threat I didn’t see or understand, I didn’t dare switch the lamp off.
I just sat there, in my bed, frozen in fear. It took me a while until I realized that Zack had taken Vito’s book.
And I hadn’t even had the chance to ask him about a witch.
14
After a restless night, I made the decision that instead of cowering in fear over the nameless threat Zack kept warning me about, I needed to concentrate on warding off the threat that I did understand. I had to do something to remain focused on fulfilling this wish. I didn’t want a repeat of the Mal incident, and even though I had run into a dead end with my spellcasting idea, I had to make sure that even if I questioned my approach, I never questioned picking the wish itself.
Zack wanted me to wait on the sidelines, but that was something I just couldn’t do. If he was mad and worried about what I had done to fulfill this wish, I would just have to come up with a different approach and pursue that until he gave me his sign of approval—whatever that was.
So the next morning, I took a deep breath, cast aside all the assumptions I had made so far, and started afresh.
I wanted to find out about Sam’s father. Who might have information on him? There wasn’t any official information, and my first thought had naturally been Sam’s mother. But maybe there was someone else who could tell me something, anything at all.
Yes, I decided maybe there was someone—Sam. It was entirely conceivable that his mother had told him something about his father. Sure, I would have to separate the wheat from the chaff—the truth from the lies—but at this point, I had nothing and would take anything.
The main issue with that idea was that Sam wouldn’t talk to me. Unless he had broken his deliberate vow of silence since I had last seen him, the only person he would talk to was Anna.
So I decided to ask my sister for help. It was still early, but I wasted no time and knocked softly on her door.
She answered.
“Hi,” I whispered when I stepped into her room. “Okay if I come in?”
Anna hit her ladybug bed lamp, and a dim reddish light illuminated her nightstand and the top of her bed.
“Hey,” she murmured, sitting up. Her light-blond hair was framing her face like a halo. “What’s up?”
I sat down on her bed. “I want to try and help Sam find his dad, but neither he nor anyone else is allowed to know about it. It’s part of our secret, okay?”
Anna’s big blue eyes shone when she nodded eagerly. She evidently liked that idea, and my heart swelled when I saw that this would bring us closer together again.
“But I need more information. I need your help, and I need you to ask him if he knows anything about his dad. Anything at all. Think you can do that?”
Anna was very excited to see Sam again and readily agreed.
I told her that I would try to arrange a visit for that afternoon, ask Louise to cut my work-shadowing day short for that purpose, pick Anna up from school, and drive straight to Sam’s foster parents’ house.
My plan didn’t quite work out so well, though. When I asked Allison at breakfast, she wanted me to take Marie along too. “If you insist on taking my car all day, then at least let me grab the opportunity to have a few hours of relaxation time at home by myself.”
I begrudgingly agreed. I would just have to think of a way to give Anna and Sam some alone time without Marie interfering.
“Well, you know how we could remedy that car-sharing problem.” I grabbed the phone and the Post-it notes with the Fishers’ phone number from on top of the fridge. “Eighteenth birthday coming up.”
I left the kitchen without waiting for a response because I knew what it would be. I called Donna and waited for her to pick up. She readily agreed when I suggested stopping by to see Sam with my sisters that afternoon, and I left for Concord with a good feeling. Finally, a plan seemed to sort of work out for once.
A couple of emotionally exhausting hours of work shadowing later, I picked up the girls from school and drove to visit Sam’s foster family.
Sam and Donna seemed happy to see us. Donna again offered us homemade milkshakes to drink and asked for our favorite flavor. Anna and I chose chocolate, but when Marie shyly asked for strawberry, Donna said, “I just made chocolate and vanilla, but not a problem at all. I can make a fresh batch of strawberry.”
Ordinarily, I would have told Donna not to put herself out, but I saw an opportunity for Anna to speak to Sam privately.
“You know what, Marie, why don’t we join Donna in the kitchen and watch her make the milkshake?” I sent Anna some meaningful glances, hoping she would understand. Then I turned to Donna. “Marie is currently really interested in cooking and kitchen appliances.”
Marie looked up at me in confusion.
“Oh, it’s that age,” Donna laughed. “You’re welcome to watch me in the kitchen, you two.”
“But I’m not—” Marie tried to interject.
“Come on, now, don’t be shy,” I interrupted, taking her by the hand and dragging her after Donna into the kitchen. One last glance over my shoulder confirmed that Anna had gotten it. She gave me an almost imperceptible nod.
In the kitchen, Marie forgot all about the fact that she had never been interested in food preparation in the first place. The kitchen and appliances looked as though they were out of a catalog. Donna clearly loved cooking and keeping house. Everything was clean and sparkling. I commented on that.
“True.” Donna smiled. “I love it. But it’s not much fun when you only cook and bake for yourself. The more people I can make delicious treats for, the better.”
As Donna whipped up a strawberry milkshake in a giant food processor and Marie watched in awe, I couldn’t help but think that Sam was lucky to be here. After seeing what he’d had to put up with at home, he really deserved it.
I still hadn’t told Louise or anyone else that I knew who Sam’s mother was. He was so much better off here. But I did feel a little bit guilty, because Irene was his mom after all. Was this my call to make? Still, I wanted to afford Sam a little bit more of a holiday from home if I could.
We returned to the living room with our milkshakes and ate white chocolate muffins. Afterward, Sam, Anna, and Marie went to play in Sam’s room for a little bit while I talked to Donna. She told me about her son who was at college in California, what a great opportunity it was for him but how much she missed him. I decided that, should I ever finally make my college decision, I would like to stay close to my family.
When it was time to leave so we would make it home for dinner, I called up the stairs, and the girls came down. Sam smiled happily and waved when we said our goodbyes.
“Did you learn anything interesting?” I mumbled to Anna as we got into the car. She nodded.
Anna and I finally had a chance to talk privately in my room after dinner.
“Sam’s mom doesn’t really talk about his dad,” Anna reported. “But once, he overheard a conversation she had with a couple of girlfriends.”
Apparently, they had been sitting in the living room at night, and the loud voices had woken Sam up. He had gotten up and listened at the door.
“So his mom told her girlfriends that Sam’s dad has a cabin by a lake,” Anna said. “That’s where his mom and dad met. Sam was on his way to that lake when we drove past him.”
I had wondered what made Sam leave Concord and why he had been on that lonely road.
“What’s the name of the lake?” I asked.
Anna drew her brows together in concentration. “Winnis… Winniska…”
Wish for Santa: Average Angel Page 7