by Неизвестный
"We didn't do anything wrong by leaving," I said, suddenly nervous. "It wasn't your fault Kairos hit a traffic light. You didn't hit anything."
"It was my fault!" Grace chimed out, and the light fixture she was in glowed brighter.
"I was a witness." Josh pulled a phone from his pocket and looked at it.
"How would he find out, though?" I muttered, pulling back from the window when my dad looked up at the house.
Josh shifted his glass so it was perfectly situated with his plate. "It's a small town," he said, his brow pinched in worry. "I should call my mom."
We both stiffened when the front door opened. "Madison?" my dad's voice echoed in the silent house. "Are you home?"
I gave Josh a nervous look. "We're in the kitchen, Dad."
His shoes thumped on the hardwood floor, and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Josh stood, and my dad's eyebrows rose as he took him in. "Hello, sir," Josh said, extending his hand. "I'm Josh Daniels."
My dad's puzzled expression eased and turned into one of acceptance. "Oh! Mark's son. You look just like him. It's good to meet you." His grip pulled away. "You're the one who left Madison at the prom," he accused in a defensive-dad sort of way.
"Dad!" I protested, embarrassed. "He didn't leave me. I ran out on him after I realized you set us up. Josh was a perfect gentleman. I asked him over to lunch to try to make up for it."
Josh was shifting from foot to foot, but my dad had found his usual good humor, and his face showed a smile again. "I thought maybe it was because your bike had a flat and you needed a ride somewhere," he said, his eyebrows arched.
I blinked. "H-how did you know?" I stammered.
My dad put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before he went to the message machine. "I got a call from the bike shop."
My mouth opened into an O as I remembered I'd left it there. "Oh. Yeah. About that—"
"They ran the registration number and came up with my name," my dad said as he turned away from the machine and frowned. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I've been trying to reach you for an hour. Even called the Flower Bower to see if you went in on your day off. I finally had to leave work."
Embarrassed, I shrugged. I hadn't checked my phone in all the commotion today. "Uh. Sorry. I ran out of minutes," I lied. "Josh gave me a ride." My dad's frown was making me nervous. "So I asked him for lunch." Crap, I was babbling, and I shut my mouth.
A soft sound of disapproval escaped him. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he said dryly, passing through the second archway to the never-used dining room.
I sighed. "Excuse me," I said to Josh, then glumly followed my dad. He had gone all the way through the dining room and was standing in the patch of sun that made it into the living room, shining on the wall where he'd hung some of the photos I'd taken at the balloon festival with him last month. He'd sprung for a ride in one, and you could see the entire old downtown in one shot, the rivers outlining its confines.
The living room, like the kitchen, held whispers of my mom, from the glass-topped tables to the suede furniture to the Art Deco statue in the corner. Either my parents had very similar decorating ideas, or my dad was still living in the past, surrounding himself with reminders of her. No pictures of her, though.
"Dad—" I started, but he didn't give me a chance to explain.
"Stop," he said, hand raised. "What did we agree on about guests?"
I took a breath to speak and let it out. "I'm sorry. But it's Josh. You set me up with him, so I thought it'd be okay. It's just a sandwich." My voice had gotten whiny, and I hated it.
"It's not the sandwich; it's you being here alone with him."
"Da-a-a-a-ad," I moaned, "I'm seventeen."
His eyebrows went up. "What's the agreement?" he asked, and I slumped.
"I said I'd ask before inviting people over," I mumbled. "I'm sorry. I forgot."
Immediately he relented and gave me a sideways hug. My dad couldn't stay mad at me, especially when it appeared I was starting to make some friends. "It looks like you forgot a lot," he said when he let go. "Like your bike? Madison, that bike wasn't cheap. I can't believe you left it there."
If he was talking money, then we were cool. "Sorry," I hedged as I tried to get him to go back to the kitchen. "Josh almost got into an accident and I got distracted."
At the word accident, my dad pulled me around. "Are you okay?" he gasped as he held my upper arms and gave me a once-over.
"Dad, it's okay," I said, and his grip dropped. "I wasn't even in the car. A traffic light fell, and Josh swerved out of the way." Kairos could stay out of the story.
"Madison," he began, looking scared, and a memory surfaced of me finding him alone in my room, surrounded by packing boxes and believing I was dead.
"Not a scratch or anything," I said, to get that awful picture out of my own head. "It was the other guy who hit the traffic light."
My dad searched my face to see if I was telling the truth. "You mean a stop sign," he said, and I shook my head.
"Traffic light," I affirmed, finding the humor in it as Grace laughed from the kitchen. "It fell right off the wire and some guy ran into it. If it hadn't, he might have hit Josh instead."
Finally he lost that frightened look. Pulling himself straight, he exhaled. "Sounds like his guardian angel was working overtime."
A glowing ball of light zipped into the room. "You got that right, baby cakes," Grace said, her glow lost as she hovered in a sunbeam. "I'm not even supposed to be guarding him, but Madison's not nice to me, and he is. Gave me a bell to sit in and everything."
I glanced at her voice, seeing the backyard behind her and the hedge that Mrs. Walsh somehow saw around, over, or through. "He's really a good driver, Dad," I said. "Wears his seat belt and everything."
My dad laughed, his hand landing on my shoulder again before it dropped away. "I know your mother gave you a lot more freedom—"
"Not really," I interrupted, recalling her strict rules and early curfews, demands that I be proper and respectable like her when all I wanted to do was be myself.
"Call me next time you want to have friends over, okay?"
He turned me around, and together we started back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry; I will." I'd apologized, stated my case without whining—much—and he'd accepted that. I was getting better at this responsibility thing.
"Did you get enough to eat?" he said as we entered the kitchen, and I nodded.
Josh was on his cell phone, and seeing us, he said, "Bye," and closed it. I had a moment of worry that he might be talking to his buddies about that "weird chick Madison," but then dismissed it when he smiled at me. Cripes, he had a nice smile. Better yet, he believed me. It was as if a weight had been lifted. I wasn't alone anymore.
"Thanks for bringing Madison home," my dad said, and I felt better. He liked him, too.
Josh seemed to get that I wasn't in trouble, and he found a more relaxed position. "It wasn't a problem," he said, fiddling with his glass. "Right on the way home."
"On the way home from what?" my dad asked as he got the iced tea out of the fridge.
I hesitated. I hadn't told my dad I was going to the school today.
"School," Josh said, adjusting his glasses and clearly curious to hear the excuse I was going to give my dad for being there. "The track team is running tomorrow at the carnival, so we had a practice. Would you like to sponsor me? It's a dollar per circuit."
"Sure. Put me down," he said, hunched over as he rummaged in the dishwasher for a glass. I winced, remembering I was supposed to empty it this morning. "You're not a long-distance runner, are you?" he asked with mild worry, clearly thinking big bucks out of his wallet.
"No. I'm a miler."
My dad smiled as he poured his tea. I was starting to wish he would go away. I had things to do. People to save.
"Madison, you didn't tell me you were going to do anything for the carnival."
"Uh…" I scrambled for an answer, thinking. "I thou
ght I could, uh, take pictures. But it's a stupid idea."
"No it's not," Josh said, and I could've smacked him. "People love that kind of stuff."
I gave him a look that said to shut up, then smiled when my dad turned from closing the fridge. "Who'd pay for a picture they can't see and won't get until two days later?" I protested.
My dad was nodding, but not in agreement with me. I'd seen that thoughtful expression on him before, and he leaned against the counter with his drink and crossed his ankles. "If that's all you need, I'll get you one of those printers that lets you do it right there," he said, and my stomach dropped. "You give them a ticket, and they pick it up before they leave."
"Really?" I said with forced enthusiasm. Maybe I could call my boss at the flower shop and offer to come in tomorrow to get out of it.
"Sure," he said, then shoved his glasses back up his nose. "I almost got you one for your birthday, but I wanted you to have a better camera first."
I thought of my new camera up on my dresser, used mostly for taking shots of my flashy new wardrobe my dad had gotten me and e-mailing them to Wendy. She'd probably die when she saw the picture of my skull-and-crossbones sneakers. "Thanks, Dad," I said, giving him a pained look, trying to tell him I wanted to be alone with Josh. "I'll talk to someone about it."
"You do that." Giving us a salute with his glass, he ambled toward the archway. "Josh, you're welcome to stay for dinner if you want."
"Thanks, Mr. A.," Josh said, "but I told my mom I'd be home by six thirty."
My dad bobbed his head in acknowledgment, smiling at the informal term of respect. I was sure he'd never been called that before. Barnabas was always very formal the few times he'd talked to my dad. "I'll be in my office," my dad said. "I've got a few things to finish up for today, but I can do them from home."
I sighed as he left the kitchen. I could hear his footsteps in the entryway, and the creak of his office door not quite shutting. He didn't do much work at his home office, but it was right across from the kitchen, and he could keep an ear on us.
"There once was a girl from Zaire—"
"Please don't," I moaned softly, and Grace snickered. Maybe I could find a bell for her to live in. Seeing that traffic light crash down had been scary.
"He doesn't trust me," I said softly as I sat across from Josh. Six thirty? We had almost five hours for Barnabas to turn up and make this nightmare go away. Where was he anyway? It couldn't take that long to talk to seraphs. Just drop to your knees and have at it.
Josh snorted and ate another chip. "He doesn't trust me, that's who he doesn't trust."
I smiled thinly, elbows on the table as my dad talked on the phone. Black wings didn't clock out at the end of business hours, and if Barnabas wasn't back by then, it was going to get ugly. It had been a while since I'd been grounded for breaking curfew, but if I didn't stay with Josh all night, he might not make it. It wasn't as if Grace could play messenger girl.
"I don't suppose you have any ideas about how to keep Kairos away after six thirty?" Josh asked, and I gave him an apologetic look.
"Nothing that won't get me grounded." I glanced at Grace, knowing the only way she'd leave to get Ron would be if I was in danger that she couldn't handle, and in that case, I'd probably be dead. This is so not good. "One of them should be back by now. Maybe something's wrong."
From the light, Grace chimed out, "Nothing's wrong. If you aren't allowed past heaven's gates, it takes a while to get a seraph's attention."
"I feel so helpless!" I said, collapsing in my chair again.
"Helpless? You want to talk helpless?" Grace grumbled, her thin voice growing louder as she landed on the table. "I don't even know why I'm here. Barnabas can do a better job guarding you than I can. Why Ron twitched him away instead of asking another reaper's help to talk to the seraphs is beyond me."
"You're doing a great job," I said, giving Josh an eye-rolling look when he stared at me, hearing only half the conversation. "You scared the crap out of me when you sent that light down on Kairos. That had to be second-sphere stuff, easy."
Josh smiled and finished off his sandwich. "Scared the crap out of me, too. Thanks for saving my life."
The glow from her wings brightened. "It was clever, wasn't it?"
I nodded as I stood up, gathering the empty plates and taking them to the sink. Why had Ron taken Barnabas with him? It was almost as if he didn't want the reaper with me anymore.
Ice sloshed as Josh took a drink, and he reddened as he wiped his chin. "I don't want to get grounded," he said. "There has to be something we can do between now and six thirty."
"You mean like come up with a plan to get rid of Kairos?" I asked as I rinsed the plates off. "Sure, like I can take on the king of the dark reapers," I said, but then I thought about it. "Actually, that's not a bad idea," I admitted, drying my fingers off. "If I swiped his new amulet, he couldn't tap into the time stream until he made a new one. He'd have to leave. He wouldn't have a scythe then, either."
Josh's expression was puzzled when I turned around. "Can't he just borrow one of his reapers' amulets?"
I smiled, realizing I'd said "time stream," and Josh was still sitting there listening to me. "No. Kairos can touch a reaper's amulet," I said, remembering Ron holding Barnabas's, "but not use it. Neither can Ron." I went silent, holding my amulet as I remembered Nakita's stone glowing the same shade as the jewel on her sword. "My getting close to him probably isn't a good idea. He'll just drag me off. And if you try to take it, he'll just scythe you. There's got to be a way to make this work."
My foot started to jiggle, but Josh calmly pushed his glasses up and ate a chip. I could tell he felt guilty about being afraid, but we were talking about walking death, and in no way was it even his problem. It was mine.
"You can't use a reaper's amulet, but you can use Kairos's?" he said despite his full mouth. "What makes his so special?"
"Uh, because Kairos's amulet isn't really a reaper's stone," I said hesitantly. "It's a timekeeper's," I added, emboldened by his acceptance of the "time stream" comment. "And timekeepers are human. I guess they dilute the divine or something for them."
"Timekeeper," Josh said softly, and, apparently satisfied, he went back to the chips. "You were lucky you didn't take a reaper's amulet by mistake."
"Yeah, lucky," I said, feeling uneasy. That Kairos had come back for my soul was creepy enough, but why had he targeted me? How would my being dead move him to a "higher court," as he had said the night he'd killed me? Was I fated to do something so horribly wrong that it endangered angels?
"Maybe just being human isn't enough to use this thing, and that's why I can't do anything with it," I said morosely as I swung my amulet, and Josh perked up.
"Well, what should you be able to do with it?"
Blowing my purple bangs from my eyes, I thought about it. If it was a timekeeper's amulet, I might be able to do what Ron could—in theory. "Besides thought-touch with a reaper? Um, I guess I should be able to stop small chunks of time," I said, remembering the shifting shadows when Ron showed up or left. "Or go misty—kind of ghostlike. I've seen him do that. Change memories. Ron changed my amulet's resonance twice, now. Barnabas can shrink an amulet's influence down so it doesn't interfere with black wings smelling out a victim and Barnabas can use amulets to find the target, so I'm assuming a timekeeper can do the same. And he said something once about laying down a fake trail for the black wings to trick the dark reapers who follow them for the same reason."
My gaze dropped to the table. "Barnabas says I might not be able to touch thoughts with him because my amulet used to belong to a dark timekeeper and he's a light reaper. Polar opposites. The only thing I've tried to do is thought-touching."
Josh leaned back with his arms over his chest. "Well, there you go. You should try something else. Something that doesn't have anything to do with reapers. If you could go misty, you could walk up to him and just pftt. His new amulet would be yours."
I stared at him, co
nsidering it. Stealing Kairos's new amulet might very well be that easy. Smiling at Josh, I felt like I had hope again—a reason to try. "Will you help me?"
From the light fixture, Grace murmured, "I don't like this," which perversely made me feel even more hopeful.
"Absolutely!" Josh's enthusiasm made me think he wasn't eager to sleep in his closet tonight, hiding from the dark reaper. Who could blame him, though?
Smiling, I stood, chair scraping. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
"Why?"
I cocked my head toward the other end of the house. "I'm not going to practice when my dad is around." I knew my dad wouldn't let me entertain in my room, but there had to be somewhere public we could go where no one would look twice at us. Maybe the library. I'd snuck in there a couple of times at night after I caught the librarian hiding the key behind a brick. I was starting to like this small town.
"But…" he said slowly, worry pinching his eyes.
"You'll be fine," I moaned, dragging him up out of his chair. "The guardian angel goes where I do. You're covered. We've only got till six thirty. Do you want to trust that Barnabas will show between now and then?"
Nodding, Josh took his glass to the sink. "Okay."
Excitement raced down to my toes. "Dad?" I called loudly. "Josh and I are going into town to get an extra card for my camera. Okay?"
"Take your phone," his voice came filtering back. "Buy more minutes. Be back by six."
"Got it!" I slapped my hand to the back pocket of my shorts to feel the bump of my phone. I turned to Josh, really glad he had a set of wheels. "Ready to go?"
He looked at me, bemused. "Where? My house is out. My mom works from home."
There was a little tinkling laugh from above me somewhere. "There once was a girl who liked lying, who only got worse after dying."
"The library?" I said. "But can we go to the mall first? I really do have to pick up a new memory card. Since I'm playing photographer at the carnival now. Thanks," I finished dryly.