"You're too strong, Princess!" he said, lifting her off his chest.
He sat her in one of the green Chippendale chairs. She handed him the flowers, and he took the sweet-smelling bundle, sighing.
"Oh, Princess. What am I going to do with you? These flowers are too pretty for me. They belong with you!"
Noam set the bags at his feet. "We found the princess some beautiful clothes today."
"Oh, really?"
She nodded. "Noam found me a purple dress just like the flower you gave me last night!"
"Well, is it made out of flower petals?" Gidyon asked.
"No, silly!" She laughed. "It's made of material!"
Gidyon winked at her and noticed the Hawaiian-print shirt that Noam wore.
"I, uh, like the shirt, Noam," he said, pushing back his laughter. "Michael would be so proud."
"Thanks," Noam said, narrowing his eyes. "Christine picked it out for me."
"It's perfect for him!" Gidyon looked to the little girl. "I think the Thanatakra should use it as a base print for their new combat armor."
"Gidyon," Christine whispered. She waved a finger for him to come close. When he did, she said, "The man behind the counter looked at him funny when he asked for scissors to cut holes in it!"
"He did?" Gidyon said, staring up at Noam with wide eyes. "And why would Noam ask for scissors in a public place like that?"
"Because Noam needed to cut holes for his wings," Noam said. "But I didn't tell him that. He gave me this look when I went in there. Didn't like me from the beginning. I just wanted to spice up his life a little. Make him wonder. But I didn't show my wings, Gidyon."
"Yes," whispered Christine, "because it's a secret that he has wings!"
Gidyon heard Max place the phone on its charger. The healer sat up straight and insisted that Christine take back the flowers. Max came back into the room and smiled lovingly at the girl, who finally gave in and embraced the bundle of blooms.
"Why, hello there, Christine!" said Max. "My, aren't you looking radiant today? Did you and Noam find everything you needed?"
"Yes, we did, Max! I got a purple dress!"
"Ooo! And I can't wait to see it! But I must talk to Gidyon alone for a minute. Could you and Noam take your new things up to your room?"
"Yyyes!" she said and jumped from the chair that was too high for her tiny legs.
Noam whispered to the girl, "Tell Max 'Thank you.' "
"Thank you Maaaaax!" she cried.
"Oh, well, you're welcome, my dear!"
The copper-topped little girl took Noam's hand and raced upstairs to Harry's old room—now adopted by her. Max crossed his arms and beamed.
"I never had a daughter," he said.
"She's beautiful," said Gidyon. He sat down on the Chippendale-style couch, blithely observing an antique globe on a little table beside him. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
"That was my judge friend on the phone. He said that Christine has no living relatives that he could find anywhere near here. She attends an elementary school downtown, but her teachers never noticed anything strange about her. Seems as if she completely mastered hiding the thing her father made her do. What an absolutely hideous excuse for a man."
"And?"
"And, well, he said he'd pull a few strings if I'd like to, well, let her stay here with me. Do you—do you think that's a good idea? I've already let her take Harry's old room. It's the most comfortable in the house for a girl so young."
Gidyon rose to his feet. He walked over to Max and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I think it's a wonderful idea, Max," he said.
The man nodded. "You know, I guess for the first time in a long while, I don't feel the painful emptiness that Harry's disappearance left me. Not that I don't miss him. I do. It's just that, I suppose I'm finally coming to terms with the reality that my son is gone."
Gidyon's brow furrowed in sympathy. He smiled and removed his hand from Max's shoulder. Oh, how easy it was to get rid of the pain by removing the memory altogether. What Max didn't want to admit was that Harry would always be a part of him, whether he liked it or not. They were connected. Family. Gidyon knew bonds like that should never be taken lightly.
"Just remember," said the angel, choosing his words carefully so they didn't sound like a stab, "coming to terms with reality doesn't necessarily mean you have to abandon hope. Never give up. Your Harry might surprise you by coming back to you someday."
Max nodded then looked down. "Yes, I know." He cleared his throat. "I'd better go upstairs and help them arrange the closets."
Without waiting for a reply, he crossed to the stairway and ascended.
Alone, Gidyon stood there, his smile fading.
Someday, he may come back.
Part III: The Elitist's Move
Adam
Adam sat with his back against the wall as he relaxed on his bed, daydreaming, while undulating ribbons of smoke lazily drifted from his cigarette. He didn't notice that half of it had turned to ash. No, his mind was elsewhere—on the pretty brunette he ran into at the coffee shop last night. In his mind, he replayed the whole scene, with a different ending of course.
"Oh, Adam, you're so dreamy," he imagined her saying, but then realized they never exchanged names.
He shook his head, laughing at himself, at his immaturity, but dreaming was so much fun. He imagined taking her in a classic romance movie embrace, sweeping her off her feet—when the sound of a loud stumble broke his fantasy. He looked towards his door and then pressed his cigarette in the clear, glass ashtray on his bed.
"Harry?" he called out.
"Yeah, I'm fine," said a weak voice.
Adam jumped from his bed. He rushed out to the hall and found the young man leaning on his side, his skin pasty.
"Dude?" said Adam. "Fine? You fell!"
He crouched down and threw Harry's arms around his shoulder, then helped him to his feet.
"I just needed to go to the bathroom," Harry said sheepishly, scratching his messy head of brown hair that reflected the young innocence of his childhood. "I—I never did that before. I just felt really dizzy all of a sudden. So dizzy it kinda knocked me over."
"Well, it kinda better not do that again or I'm callin' the doctor."
"Adam, you promised."
"Would you forget promises for once? You're not doing well, Harry!"
Adam rarely let his emotions get the best of him, but today was no time to hide the fact that he was very upset. A life was at stake. He helped Harry's weak body back into bed and turned on the overhead light. Then he sat on the firm, full-size mattress, giving his younger friend a look of angry sympathy.
"I won't," he said. "I promised I wouldn't, and I won't."
He leaned back, wishing he could do something.
Then, he remembered the video.
The wings.
Max's guests.
It was a crazy idea, but they were in desperate times.
He stood and asked Harry if he was okay for the moment.
"I'm good," Harry said. "I'm good for a while."
"Hey, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember when we first met each other?"
Harry smiled, his eyes heavy, and he laughed voicelessly. "Yeah, I remember. It was at the playground. I fell out of the swing set, and you came to help me."
"Yeah."
"Except, you laughed at me when you found out I was okay."
Adam gave a side grin. "True!"
"Why'd you ask if I remembered?"
"Well," he sighed and turned out Harry's light, "I guess just to remind you that you've always been a clumsy dumb ass." And to let you know that I'll always be there for you, whether you think you need help or not.
Harry grinned and shook his head as Adam left the room.
"I'm goin' out!" Adam shouted from the kitchen, grabbing his keys. "If you need me, you know my cell number."
" ’Kay."
"I mean it!" said Adam.
He heard no response and slammed the front door.
***
Melissa
"Okay," Melissa said as she sat at a red light in her compact car. She touched a yellow Post-It note taped to her radio. "Turn right here, then follow the road through the park and at the end should be Edenton's circle drive."
She followed the directions with determination in her heart. It was time Max Edenton offered some answers. All morning and afternoon she mustered up enough courage to confront the man, and now she was going to do it. She still wasn't sure of exactly how she was going to question him, but as she pulled into the circle drive, her fears diminished and her temper flared as she noticed that someone else had just arrived.
"Hey!" Adam waved at her then shut his car door.
Melissa killed the engine on her car and sat in the driver's seat, too angry to move.
"What is he doing here?" she muttered to herself.
Adam, appearing thrilled beyond reason, approached her car and tapped on the window. She furrowed her brow and opened the door, hitting him in the stomach with it.
"Well, hello to you, too!" Adam said. "You know, I never got your name."
"None of your business," she said, starting the lengthy walk to Max's front door.
"Oh, let me guess. Is it— Françoise? Or maybe Bambi. Yeah, you definitely look like a Bambi."
Melissa turned around and stormed toward him as he leaned on the top of his car, resting his head on his crossed arms. He grinned at her. She slowed her pace, hating herself for finding the smile kind of charming.
"It's Melissa," she said. "And I don't want to know your—"
"Adam Jameson! Cameraman for Channel Three. Pleased to meet you!"
He moved from around his car and extended his hand in front of the girl. She huffed, but shook it in politeness. He looked at her clothing—it was quite a switch from the laid-back outfit she wore last night. Her hair was down, her makeup done up. She even wore a skirt. He clearly liked what he saw. Looking away to hide her blush, she tried her hardest not to notice that even though Adam's flashy tattoos colored his arms against his black, sleeveless T-shirt, there was something about him. Something charming.
Do not like the bad-boy type. They are trouble, trouble, trouble!
Adam reached in his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Melissa looked on in disgust as he lit it and took a big puff.
"So," he said, the cigarette in his mouth, distorting his speech, "whatcha here for, Melissa?"
"Did you know that stuff can give you lung disease?" she said, staring at his smoke.
Adam's demeanor fell serious as soon as she said "disease," and he looked behind her at the door. He seemed to hesitate, but then he met her eyes again and threw his cigarette to the ground.
"Yeah, good point," he said, reaching for his sunglasses that sat atop his head. Then he pulled the shades down over his eyes.
"Good," Melissa said as he stomped on the smoke. She was not going to acknowledge how wonderfully bad-boyish he looked with the glasses on. "So, what are you doing here anyway?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
"Well, I was, uh…" Going to talk to Max about angels. But wouldn't that be perfect. The world already thinks I'm crazy. All I need is for a cameraman to broadcast it. "I was just coming to see if the flowers by his house were as good as the ones out in the park."
"Oh, really?" Adam asked. "They're nice. I'm not like a gardener or anything."
"Yeah, but now I see they're just as I imagined!" Melissa said. She was starting to sound like a moron. "You know, I think I'm gonna go."
"Yeah, I was thinkin' the same thing. I, uh, just came up here because someone told me there was a fight or somethin', but I see now that there isn't. I, uh, you know, gotta get the best drama on tape! Heh."
He was staring at her lips now. Melissa thought she would burn so hot her clothes would melt off, and then she'd be in real trouble.
"Well, good luck on taping things," she said, breaking eye contact with him.
He rushed over and opened her car door like a chivalrous knight. A girlish smile escaped her prideful clutches, and the knight beamed at the victory.
"So, uh," he said, "will I see ya around?"
"I guess."
Feeling more secure in her car, she remembered his comment on not believing in angels. Deciding they tragically could not be together for irreconcilable differences—and because he smoked—she closed the door and started her car. He waved and jumped into his Mustang, revving the engine for show. Melissa ignored the fluttering of her heart at the macho gesture and backed out of the circle drive.
***
Adam
Adam waited until she was gone and then shut off his car. He looked back at the front door and slowly got out of the vehicle. It was a stupid idea, anyway. What if they weren't angels? He'd look like a friggin' dope to those actors. No. Better go home. Harry might have fallen again. And besides, Adam had to meet Terry for the news in less than an hour.
Somberly, he got in his car with Melissa filling his thoughts like the sweet aroma of cotton candy. He sighed and turned the key in the ignition, his radio blasting to life. As he circled around the drive and out the park, he began to whistle like a man in love.
***
Gidyon
Up in the window of the second floor, Gidyon peered down at the man. He had heard voices outside from his hiding place behind the beige, lacy drape. The entire household was wrapped up in a game of hide-and-seek. But the healer found himself caught up in the conversation that had just taken place between Adam and Melissa. He was about to return to the game when he read the man's thoughts.
They froze him in shock.
Harry.
Adam was referring to Max's Harry! That is, if it was the same Harry. And if it was, the boy needed to be healed of something. Gidyon felt the climbing pangs of worry ascend his legs and dance about wildly in his heart. Even if this Harry was ill, be it a broken leg or a serious disease, he would not be able to save him if it was his time to die. Nothing could stop that. Destiny was not a force to be reckoned with. He decided to keep his new knowledge a secret, to go out looking for Adam Jameson tonight and maybe—just maybe—Max would finally be reunited with his son.
"Found you!" Christine said as she pulled back the curtain.
Gidyon nearly gave a startled shriek, but instead placed a hand over his heart. "Yes, you did, Princess! What are you, a detective, too?"
"I found Max and Miss Fimmel and Miss Mandy, but I can't find Noam!"
"Well, he's good at this game," Gidyon said. The little pixie pulled his hand, leading him from the room. "You have to remember that he does this as his job. He's probably out in plain sight and we keep missing him." Just like Harry Edenton, possibly. "Come on. Let's go find that silly angel!"
***
Laphelle
Malynko pushed the swinging door open and entered the kitchen. Laphelle, sitting at the table with a stubby, pumpkin-scented candle in front of him, broke away from the blank stare he had been giving the wall and saw that the Elitist was wearing thick, cottony robes of green, his hair long and flowing over his shoulders like a silken shawl.
"Come with me and Kiazmo," he said. "We're going to pay the witches a visit."
Laphelle gazed at the wide silver refrigerator, then the small, red-curtained window above the double sink, then the wall-to-wall cabinets. He felt like he was encased in a cheap coffin.
"Go ahead," he said. "I'll find it."
"Will you?" said Malynko.
Kiazmo crept into the room, a caramel-colored tunic draped over his bony frame. A laurel crowned his little head, and leaves had been woven into his braided hair. He stood by Malynko's leg, looking as if he would clutch onto it at any sign of rage from the First Rank.
"When you're ready, your new clothes are waiting for you out here," Malynko said. He turned to leave the room, Kiazmo running to keep up with him. "You will change clothes. I
won't have this mission ruined because you refuse to play your part."
"I understand," Laphelle said as the swinging door closed. "I'll be there in a moment."
Alone in his coffin once more, he sat with his hands folded, his pointer fingers extending out of the entwinement like a steeple. He heard the front door latch as his dark comrades left to carry out the mission.
He had no intention of joining them.
***
Malynko
Once Malynko had closed the front door, he narrowed his eyes.
"It's about time you showed up," he said. "I need a shape shifter. Fast."
The glowing, bluish essence of the angel of darkness under the oak tree bowed and said, "Yes, my liege. Where shall I send him?"
"I will continue to energize the crystal. He can find me by following the signal. Tell him to be discreet when he arrives. I will need him to fool my prey."
"I'm on the task," said the angel, who was a thin, subservient Third Rank.
The Elitist replied with a frown, and the soldier went on his way. Kiazmo looked up at his tutor.
"I don't tolerate tardiness," said Malynko. The red gem on his ring glowed, its insides swirling with bloody smoke. "I sent that signal nearly half an hour ago. I was about to give up."
He looked up at the dark, overcast sky, feeling a slight mist on his face. A light wind blew around the trees, shaking the dried leaves from their branches. The dead foliage fell before Malynko's eyes, and he watched them hit the ground, shriveled, alone, abandoned.
He shook his head to abate his nagging thoughts. Then he took to the skies.
"Lovely ensemble," said Eva as she ate Malynko up with her eyes. She glanced down at Kiazmo. "This one is beautiful as well. Spirit of the mighty oak."
Kiazmo stayed next to the Elitist's leg. Malynko almost laughed, thinking about the fib he'd just told the fortuneteller. She actually believed that Kiazmo was a tree's soul. Oh, the dark angels would joke about this for years.
Wings of the Divided: The Divided Book 1 Page 19