During one of our shifts Justin told me that his mother and little sister died in a car accident when he was eleven. I think that’s one of the reasons this discussion is obviously weighing on him. And one of the reasons he and I connect so well. We both experienced tragedy at a young age. “I don’t know,” I say. “The questions are hard.”
Justin looks up from his train of thought. “Yeah, I don’t know why I liked that class so much. The problems mostly just gave me a headache.”
“Me, too,” I say.
“How’s it going in here?” asks Mr. Fields as he bursts through the door to our conference room, startling us both. I nearly jump out of my seat.
“Great,” I say, once I recover. “We’re making good progress.” I gesture to the stack of finished boxes with large red x’s lined up against the wall.
He nods, impressed. “Focused, just like your dad was. At this rate, you’ll be out of a job before the end of the summer. Better slow down,” he says jokingly.
I smile wistfully at the mention of my dad. “No worries, I think we’ll be busy for a while.” I peer over at the tall stacks of file boxes against the other wall still waiting to be scanned.
“Well,” he says, “I came down because we had a catered lunch today for some clients and there’s a bunch of sandwiches and drinks left over in the large conference room up on the second floor. Feel free to take a break and go grab some.”
“Thanks,” Justin and I say in unison.
“Can you let the other kids know?” he asks.
I smile. I assume by ‘kids’ he means Janice and Chris. “Sure.”
He turns to walk out and we rise to follow him. We make a right outside the door to go find Janice and Chris and Mr. Fields goes left in the direction of the elevator.
“Declan,” I hear him call out my name and I turn to see him pressing the button for the elevator. He waves me over and I tell Justin I’ll be back in a second.
“Yes?” I say when I reach Mr. Fields.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, do you know if Frank happened to keep any files at home?”
His mention of my dad’s name startles me. “Files? You mean stuff from when he worked here?” My face scrunches, thinking. “I haven’t seen anything.”
Mr. Fields waves his hand dismissively. “It’s not important. I’m working on a case that relates to one he was working on a long time ago. If you happen to see anything related to the office, I’d appreciate it if you’d bring it in. Otherwise, don’t worry about it. It was just a thought.”
I walk back to join Justin. Why would Burt Fields want files from almost ten years ago? And why wouldn’t they be in the Fields and Morris computer system anyway? Then again, what do I know? We’re obviously being paid a large sum of money to digitize all these files for the lawsuit they’re working on, and there’s also some old files mixed in that they want stored electronically. Maybe a lot of legal documents are passed around in paper form. I forget about it as I enter the windowless conference room to join Justin in giving Janice and Chris a heads up about the sandwiches.
Chapter Eleven
“You sure you want to do this?” Alexander asks.
I nod. “I’m sick of waiting.”
“You’re certain? I think we should wait.”
I shake my head. “Avestan’s been back for two weeks now. Anything could happen any day. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Alexander nods, obviously unconvinced. We’re at our spot on top of the San Mar Mountains and it’s a clear day with just a few soft, billowy clouds in the sky and a light breeze blowing over us. We stand up and walk over to the edge of the precipice and when I peek over I instinctively back up nervously at the steep drop off to the ground far below. My heart is pounding.
“I wish we wouldn’t do this,” he says.
“I know.”
“There’s no guarantee it will work.”
I swallow. “Please. I just want to do it. I want to try.”
“Okay,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Face forward and look out to the ocean.”
I do as he says, steeling my resolve. “I want you to—”
Before I can finish I feel his hands at my back pushing me over the edge and now I’m gasping and plunging to earth. All the preparation in the world hasn’t readied me for this and my heart seizes in my chest as I realize I’ve made a dreadful, horrible, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking mistake. I summon every ounce of focus I can, trying to find my center and concentrate, but it’s no match for the terror chasing me as I tumble and fall, gaining speed. 120 miles per hour is the terminal velocity of a human body, isn’t that what Finn once said? It’s funny what you remember when you’re plummeting to your death. At 120 miles per hour I’ll stop accelerating until I … oh my God, what was I thinking? This will never work. I can’t focus. I can’t find my core. Do I even have a core? Why did I do this? Why did I—.
At barely an arm’s length from the ground I’m embraced in a sweeping whoosh and transformed into light energy. I feel myself powering up to the sky until I’m atop the mountain again, becoming solid flesh bit by bit from the feet up. Alexander and I re-appear face to face, arms wrapped tightly around one another. Normally I want to kiss him after we fly together but this time the flight was too short and the memory of being scared is too strong and I honestly feel like crying … or slapping him. I don’t know which.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says, cradling my face in his hands. “Are you all right? I think you got your answer.”
“Why did you wait so long?” I ask, still gasping for air.
“Declan,” he says, meeting my eyes, “did you think for a moment I would ever let anything happen to you? Anything at all? You made me promise to wait … we went over it again and again. And you made me promise to push you when you weren’t expecting it. You said you had to be truly scared or you wouldn’t know for sure. It killed me to do it.”
I nod. I can see the anguish in his eyes and he’s right. I pressured him over and over until he had no choice but to relent and do as I asked. I feel him flooding me with his energy and I take a deep breath, drinking it in. Alexander always feels so wholly, utterly good. I melt against him as the feeling takes hold.
“So you can’t fly,” he says softly, tucking the stray lock of hair that always falls over my eyes behind my ear. “It’s okay.”
I nod but inside I’m sorely disappointed. We’ve been trying to figure out my powers as a sprite. Powers—it feels funny to say that when I’ve been at the mercy of panic attacks and anxiety my whole life. To finally be in control and realize I actually have powers to call on is almost laughable. Only I can’t call on them at will … not in any meaningful way. The only thing we’ve figured out so far is that I can read people, I have fast reflexes, and when I’m in a life or death situation (like, for instance, when a dark angel named Avestan is in the process of killing my boyfriend before my very eyes) I can somehow use my energy as a force. Otherwise it’s little bits of light energy here and there that I can sometimes call on but nothing substantial. And, oh yeah, the foot warming thing when I’m surfing—nice, but not exactly a scary deterrent to dark angels. I was hoping I might also have the ability to fly, like Alexander, and I had this crazy idea that if I put myself in a life or death situation maybe I’d be able to tap into any latent powers instinctively. It feels stupid now, but the idea of waiting until a true life or death situation to find out what the heck I can or can’t do is terrifying. However, in retrospect, telling Alexander to push me off a cliff unaware was pretty dumb … that’s what fear of dark angels will do to you: turn you into an idiot.
The bottom line is I wasn’t able to fly. Months of focusing and trying to harness my energy has yielded no new powers. But when I remember how my love for Alexander sparked his energy back to life after we escaped Nusquam, I know, somewhere within me, I do have power. But maybe it was a one-time-only-you-use-it-and-lose-it-like-a-bee-stinger kind of thing. In that case, it’s still an abil
ity I’m forever grateful for. Without it, Alexander wouldn’t be here right now.
Alexander looks down into my eyes, still holding me in his arms. “I know you really wanted to try this, but I’m pretty sure the only way you’re going to find out your powers is organically.”
“Maybe you should have shared that little nugget of wisdom before I hurtled to my death a few minutes ago.”
He laughs. “For the record, I did, several times, but you wanted to try it anyway and I’ve learned not to get in the way of Declan Jane’s ideas.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s true. You’re fierce when something matters to you. I’m not surprised you knocked over Avestan when we were in Nusquam.”
“But I can’t do anything powerful on command.”
“That’s not true,” he says as takes my hand and tugs me over to the picnic blanket we laid out on the ground earlier, so we can sit down. “Do you remember when you wrote D.J. loves A.R. with your light in mid-air? That was before you even knew you were a sprite. When your heart’s involved, your power comes out.”
I smile.
“That startled me speechless, by the way,” he says with a laugh. “From the moment we met, you had me confused and mesmerized.”
“Ditto.”
Alexander smiles. “I brought some muffins,” he says as he leans over and reaches into his backpack. He reaches around inside and then yanks the backpack closer and peers inside, unzipping pockets. “Argh,” he says as he sets the backpack down, empty-handed, “I must have left them back in Woody.”
“Woody?”
“My jeep.
“Your jeep has a name?”
“Yeah, she’s called Woody,” he says casually. “I always name my transportation.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Why are you looking at me funny? Your car’s called Archie.”
“Woody? Because of the wood paneling?” He has a classic white Jeep Wagoneer with wood paneling.
He shrugs. “Seemed right.”
“I guess I’m just surprised I didn’t know that. I thought I knew everything by now.”
“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me.”
“I think I know you pretty well,” I say with a measure of skepticism. “I know you’re an angel … I know all your powers … you told me all your history—for most of your lives at least—and I found out, on my own, that you’re very ticklish,” I say as I reach my fingers along his side, “over here.”
“Ah!” he bellows as he wrestles me down and straddles me, pinning my hands above my head.
“You know,” I say, laughing, as he looks down into my eyes, breathing hard, “you’ve got a fatal flaw for a guardian angel. All anyone has to do is tickle you and you’re done for.”
He smiles. “Maybe I just let you think I’m ticklish so that I can get you in this position,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. The air between us is electric as he holds my gaze and leans down closer, our lips only a breath away.
“But what if I wanted you to get me in this position all along,” I say with a wry smile of my own.
Amusement lights up his eyes. “Clever girl,” he says as he closes the distance between us and his lips meet mine—soft at first and then like he means it. I sigh as I melt into his kiss. He strokes my tongue with his, teasing and exploring, and tugs at my bottom lip as his hands still hold my arms above my head. Then he pauses, his eyes dark and smoldering, and the energy between us vibrates with intensity.
“When is that plan of yours going to happen again?” I breathe softly.
“Soon,” he murmurs as he presses his lips to mine again. “But not soon enough,” he groans mid-kiss and we both laugh. We stay that way, laughing and kissing and enjoying our moment on the mountain, until eventually we sit up and look out over the trees to the wide blue swath of ocean in the distance. It’s stunningly beautiful and I lean my head on his shoulder as we enjoy the view. After a while, I turn and kiss the edge of his jaw, breathing in deep the fresh soap and natural scent of him that I love.
“This would be a pretty perfect place,” I say.
“For what?” he asks.
“Your plan.”
He smiles, turning towards me. “You want me to chuck the plan?”
“Yes.”
He laughs. “Me, too. But you’re going to like it,” he says confidently.
“I’m sure I will. But you’re really stretching the bounds of anticipation.”
“I take my anticipation very seriously,” he says with a wicked smile and a glint in his eyes.
“I’ve noticed.”
He laughs. “Right now, in this moment, I have another plan. A very simple one.”
“What does it involve?”
“It involves kissing you. A lot.”
He silences my laugh with his lips on mine and I forget about everything else in the world for as long as Alexander holds me in his arms.
Chapter Twelve
“Would you like some Answers? Are you feeling Unfulfilled? Would you like to know Why Your Here and how to reach your Full Potential?”
Everywhere I go I’ve been seeing these flyers all over town. The same words, over and over. Stuck on the windshield of my car, under the welcome mat at our house, stuck to the bulletin board at Starbucks. Everywhere I turn, the whole town is blanketed with them.
“Find the Answers you seek. The Success and Riches you deserve. Gain Free Insights into your personality. Come to our Fun Fair or visit us on Ocean Ave.”
Other than the date and time for the fair, the only other information is the name at the bottom: SoFT: The Society For Truth. We have the answers.
Liz and I pull the flyers out of the baskets on the front of our bikes parked at a rack on Seacliff Drive before we put our backpacks into the baskets instead. We’ve been at the beach all morning, hanging out and body surfing. Now Liz has to leave for work at Jack’s but I, amazingly, have the rest of the afternoon off until I babysit Charlie later tonight. Alexander’s meeting me here so we can go to the movies.
“I’ve been seeing these everywhere,” she says. “What the hell is SoFT?”
“No idea. But they obviously don’t care about killing a zillion trees.”
“I almost want to go to their Fun Fair,” says Liz, “just to see what it is.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Actually,” she says, “I’m fascinated with nuts—nuts who leave redonkulous paper flyers with glaring typos everywhere instead of harnessing the power of the interwebs.”
I laugh.
“Hey, Alexander,” Liz calls out with a nod, her focus shifting past me.
I turn my head to see Alexander walking up to join us. “Hi, Liz, how ya going?” he replies. He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my cheek. “What’s this?” he asks, peering over my shoulder at the SoFT flyer in my hand.
“We keep finding these all over town,” I reply. “I was just about to toss it.”
I hand it to Alexander and he skims the contents before crushing it into a ball and pitching it into the nearby recycling bin.
“Guess that means you don’t want to go to their Fun Fair with me,” says Liz dryly.
Alexander shakes his head. “Rubbish.”
“Wow,” she says, eyeing Alexander sideways, “is it just me or do you seem more opinionated than your usual self? Maybe waking up every day in the wrong hemisphere is finally getting to you?”
Alexander smiles. “Nah, just looking out for you, love.”
She smiles. “But I was going to get some ‘free insights into my personality’ from these people,” she says jokingly, still waving the flyer in her hand.
“You’re a larrikin,” says Alexander. “There’s your free insight.”
Liz peers at him quizzically. “Do you realize that half the time I have no idea what you’re talking about? What’s a larrikin?”
Alexander laughs. “Someone who would tell Molly Bing to get over herself when she tried to
push you off her lunch table in primary school … a cheeky, good-hearted person.”
“It was middle school,” Liz says, forming a slow smile. “You’re saying I do the right thing, in other words.”
“You don’t care what others think,” he says. “You break the rules if you have to and you don’t waver. You know yourself.”
Liz’s eyes flash with pride and approval. “Hmm,” she says as she gets onto her bike. “I really hate to end this fun chat about how great I am but I’ll be late for work. Declan, do you have a Jack’s T-shirt? I forgot mine.”
I laugh. “Jack bet me five bucks you’d forget today. Don’t tell him I told you but I think there are some extras in the cabinet in his office.”
“Ha!” she says, “See? That’s the solution. I don’t see why he gets so bent out of shape about Hula Burger t-shirts. See you guys,” she says with a smile as she maneuvers her bike onto the path and takes off.
“Bye, Liz,” Alexander and I call out in unison.
“What was that all about?” I ask Alexander after she’s gone.
“What? You mean about the flyer? I shouldn’t have said anything.” He pauses a moment. “I think I’m just frustrated I haven’t been able to find Avestan and I’m tired of—” He stops himself.
“Of what?” I ask.
“I don’t know, all of it. I’m tired of the dark guardians … and I’m tired of these groups that tell vulnerable people they have all the answers and end up taking all their time and money, promising them whatever they’re looking for.”
“Do you know this group?”
He takes a deep breath. “There are no shortcuts. To anything. Just work hard, follow the golden rule, and listen to your better angels when you’re not sure. We’re all connected,” he says with intensity, “we’re all in this together. That’s all anyone needs to know.”
I look up at him. “Maybe you should put that on a t-shirt.”
He smiles, breaking out of whatever mood he was in. “Maybe I should,” he says. “Do you think Liz would wear it?”
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