|
|
GUARDIANS
By Lola St.Vil
Copyright© 2012 Lola St.Vil
This book is dedicated to My family and the Original Readers.
You believed beyond reason and supported without fail
Thank you.
BOOK ONE: EMMY
“I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction
which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me.
You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water,
you could draw me to anything I have most avoided….”
—Charles Dickens
CHAPTER ONE: THE BOY
Okay, it’s official: I’m a coward. No one is in class today but me—and the new twin foreign exchange students from Japan. The boy’s name is Rio. He’s tall, lanky, and on the cutting edge of fashion. His hair is flaming red and falls into a shaggy bob cut that usually covers his face. His lips are plum red and he has eyebrows most girls would die for.
Rio looks like a Harajuku poster boy. This I learned from Wikipedia; it is a fashion trend in Japan where the kids dress in bold colors, patterns and off-the-beaten-path clothing. I find him sexy in a dark, mysterious way.
His twin sister, Miku, is more bohemian. No matter the weather, she can be found in dresses that are usually soft, flowery, and flowing. She has almond-shaped gray eyes like her brother. Her hair is jet black, bone straight and falls down to her waist. Her bangs frame her soft face beautifully. She wears a single honey blonde braid on the right side. But where Rio stands at 6’0, his sister is nearly a foot shorter.
We’ve said hello to each other in passing, but I’ve never struck up a conversation. I wonder what it would be like if I had that kind of charm. Would I take over governments? Start wars? Or maybe, just try to get a date for senior prom?
It didn’t surprise me that the twins are here. They never miss a day of school. Since they arrived, I’ve been fascinated by the way they are with each other. They could be laughing quietly and joking around, but if a student enters the room looking worried or upset, it changes the mood of the twins. Suddenly they are concerned as well. Of course this is all me—having way too much time on my hands to analyze other people’s behavior.
Still, I imagine their lives are somehow filled with adventure. I wish mine were. I’d like my life to be as exciting as Joan of Arc’s or Queen Elizabeth’s. Their existence changed the world. I daydream about being that kind of girl. But those women were brave and defiant. Me, on the other hand, I can’t even cut one lousy class.
The reason for such a low turnout in my last class period is the weather. New York City rarely has temperatures above 30 degrees in January. But here we are just two weeks in to the new year, and it’s a blissful 70 degrees outside. So everyone said a silent “Thank you” to global warming and ditched class.
My friend Sara was trying to coax me to join her, but at the last minute, I chickened out. I never go against the rules. Not because I don’t have a desire to, but because I am afraid of the repercussions. What if I cut class and got caught? They’d call my mom and I’d be grounded. Not that I ever really go anywhere but still….
It isn’t just the weather that has made people skip Mr. White’s history class, it’s Mr. White himself. He rarely makes eye contact with the class, or even asks questions to see if we are following along with the lesson. It’s as if he’s talking to himself. He’s a one-man show, and we inconvenience the hell out of him by being there.
I raise my hand and get permission to go to the bathroom. I head down the hallway. I thought I’d get my stuff and make a break for it, but no, I walked right past my locker and into the girls bathroom. Like I said: big coward.
I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. I am so uninteresting. My face is too round, my eyes are too far apart and my cheekbones lack the height needed to elevate me to exotic. The only things that stand out about me are my eyes: they’re as purple as the stupid dinosaur. And, well, that’s just weird.
What’s even weirder is that they go various shades of purple depending on my mood. If I’m angry, they become such a deep shade of purple they appear black. When I’m sad, they lighten up and take on an electric, neon glow. I hate my eyes. They come from my father. He had encountered my mother on her way home from school—and raped her. She went to the police, but they never caught him. She tried to put that night behind her, but then I came along.
My mom, Marla, calls me the one good thing in her life. Funny, I never saw it that way. She had a scholarship to Columbia University and was going to be pre-law, but she had to postpone school to have me. Then my grandparents died in a car accident and she had no one to help support her.
So, she put off school and got a series of dead-end jobs to make ends meet. Law school became a distant fantasy. She poured all her dreams into me. She wants me to be what she would have been had she not had me: a brilliant attorney slash striking social butterfly.
But it takes a full night of cramming to squeeze out a C+ or B- on my exams. That is not brilliance. And as far as being striking goes, as I said, the only remarkable thing about me are my eyes. I always get asked about wearing contacts. I get so fed up with that question.
So here I am, Emerson Hope Baxter, a fifteen-year-old, purple-eyed freak living in New York City. I look at myself in the mirror once again. I smooth out a wayward strand of ink colored hair and tighten my ponytail. I take one last look at myself. I’m 5’4” without a curve in sight. I sigh, again.
I wash my hands and head out the door. The urge to ditch doesn’t last long. Besides, even if I had ditched class, where would I go? Everyone who cut class today had something fun and exciting to do. Their life had urgency and meaning. My life, on the other hand, is routine and ordinary.
So, no ditching, but I’m doing the next best thing; I head to the nurses office, my safe haven. The nurse’s name is Cora. She lets me crash on one of the cots when life at Atwell High has gotten to be too much. I run to the safety of the Lysol-scented office until I get enough nerve to face the world again.
As I head down the hallway I hear a moan coming from the janitor’s closet. I walk up and press my ear to the door. I turn the knob half expecting it to be locked, but it isn’t. The person moans even louder.
“Hello?”
“Help!” a male’s voice says weakly in the dark.
I gently drag him out of the closet and prop him up against the wall. I know I have seen him before. I can’t remember his name, but he works in the main office. He’s about fifty or so, balding with dark rimmed glasses and kind eyes.
“They’re coming for him. Must stop them…hurts so much,” he says in barely a whisper.
His face is pale and his lips are pressed together so tightly they form a thin white line. I put my hand on his shoulder to calm him. That’s when I first see the blood. It has seeped through his white shirt and tie and continues to spread its way across his abdomen. By the time I find the origin of the blood, it’s seeped down to the floor. I put my hand on the hole in his stomach but that does little to slow the bleeding.
“Help! Somebody help!” I cry out. The hallway answers back with staunch silence.
“Help me!” I call out again. Nothing.
He’s trying to say something. I lean in closer.
“Find him. Tell him to run.”
“Find who?”
He hands me a crumpled blue 5x7 index card. The kind all the students have to fill out detailing their address and other important information. It’s covered in blood.
“Find him,” the man insists again.
“Okay I will,” I promise, hoping that would get him to stay calm.
I call out for help once again but this time I don’t wait for the silence to mock me. I stuff the index card in my pocket and I run down the hallway as fast as I can. It doesn’t seem fast enough. Should I have left him alone? Can he hang on until I get back? How long does it take an ambulance to come? Stop thinking, just go! My heart is pounding so hard my chest hurts. I scan the hallways. Not a person in sight.
As I call out again, something hurls itself at me and throws me down to the ground with the force of a category five hurricane. I hit the floor. I would have thought I were dead save the acute pain traveling from my shoulders down to my ankle. I groan in agony as the thing that attacked me pins me down to the ground. I stare into the face of my attacker.
It’s Rio from my history class. But before I can be sure, he covers me with something. Everything goes dark. I don’t have time to pinpoint what it was because just then gunshots rang out.
I don’t know who is shooting because my attacker won’t let me up, so I fight him. I know in my head that it is a bad idea to stand up, what with a hail of bullets flying overhead, but panic steps in, and I just want to flee. I have to get up and run away. I punch him repeatedly. I kick and scream for him to let me go. It’s hard to tell if he can hear me over the sound of the gunshots. If he does, it in no way affects him. He holds me down effortless with his body and what I think must have been some kind of dark blanket. But where did it come from?
I make one last desperate attempt to free myself; I push past the pain running down my side and hurl myself forward to get out from underneath the boy holding me captive. He doesn’t even budge. How can he be so strong? He’s only 120 pounds or so.
Suddenly, I hear the most beautiful song ringing out into the hallways. It sounds like the kind of melody you’ve heard at a funeral. Sad. Haunting. Sorrowful. Tears sprang instantly from my eyes. I’m heartbroken but I don’t know why. It’s as if the melody has etched the saddest possible memories into my heart. The pain is worse than any physical thing I could have experienced. I want to die. My captor looks into my eyes.
“Don’t listen,” he begs as he holds me closer to his chest.
The blanket he has spread over us has somehow gotten darker and heavier. The song sounds far away now. And although I no longer feel the desire to die, I am so saddened by what little melody I can make out; I continue to weep, loudly, into his chest. Somewhere in between the sobs I think I hear groaning, but I can’t be sure.
The shots stop just as suddenly as they had started, and the hallway is silent again. The blanket is pulled off of me. I was right. It was Rio who held me down.
“What the hell is—.” My voice dies in my throat. Lying about ten yards away from us are three bodies. And standing a few feet away from them is Miku, Rio’s twin sister.
Horrified, I make my way over. Three men lie lifeless on the floor. I’ve never seen them before. They have on dark suits and ties. A trail of bloody tears has run down their faces. Each of them had torn their shirts open, exposing large blue and green bruises on their chests. I lean in closer and see several bloody self-inflicted gashes. It’s as if they were trying to rip their hearts out.
“What did you do?” My voice is filled with so much anguish, I barely recognize it. Before Miku has a chance to reply, Rio comes towards us, shouting, “We have to go! They’re coming.”
No sooner had he gotten the words out than a group of men comes barreling down the stairs wearing suits and carrying guns. They begin shooting.
“Emmy, let’s go!” She doesn’t wait for me to move. She grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway towards the exit. I fall in step with her for fear that if I don’t she’ll hurt me like she did the men on the floor. I knew it was her. She was the one singing. She had killed three people without putting a hand on them. And now I’m being dragged down the school hallway by a murderer and her brother. But I figure I’m better off with them than the “Wall Street” mafia back there, right?
The wonder twins and I dodge into the stairwell. Bullets whizz over our heads. The singer pulls the fire alarm. Kids quickly flood the stairwell. The PA system comes on. I can’t hear what the principal is saying as the brother and sister team and I run at breakneck speed past the student body and out the door. Once outside, a red sports car comes towards us at top speed, jumps the curve and stops just short of hitting us. The door flings opens. The driver, whose face I can’t see, says, “Get in.”
They try to get me inside the car but I fight them off, kicking and screaming. I’d rather die here than get in this stranger’s car and end up bruised and broken in some dark alley.
“Get off me!” I shout back.
Had it not been New York City, the sight of a group of teenagers fighting would have been disturbing. But seeing as how the city is always full of strange characters and even stranger happenings, not one person even stopped. Although, there were a few who looked on as they walked by but dismissed it as juvenile horseplay.
Rio somehow gets both my arms behind my back and holds them there. I struggle, but it does no good. His grip is too tight.
“I got her. You clean up,” Rio instructs his sister.
“I cleaned up last time,” Miku replies.
“So, you should be familiar with the process,” he retorts. She stares back at him coldly.
Rio lets his guard down for a half a second. That’s all I need. I shoot off down the street. They grabbed a hold of my shirt from behind. I scarcely manage to slip out of it. I thank myself for layering this morning because I didn’t trust the weather to stay this warm throughout the day. I’m half way down the block. My muscles beg me to stop or even slow down, but I don’t give in.
What’s going on? The question bounces inside my pounding head with every labored breath I take. Don’t stop to analyze, I reason with myself. Just get some distance.
I spot a cop car halfway down the block; seeing an end to their pain in sight, my muscles fully cooperate. I’m now running at top speed, mere yards away from help, when she appears before me, stopping me dead in my tracks.
She looks to be about my age, maybe a year or so older? She stands at a statuesque five feet nine inches. Her beauty defies logic. No one that stunning can be real. Even if she wasn’t blocking me, I would have had no choice but to stop and marvel at the sheer radiance of her face. Her skin looks as if it had been carved out of the night sky: smooth, black, glowing. Her eyes are the color of gleaming pennies; her full lips spread across her face and form a spectacular smile.
Her hair reaches past her shoulder and down to her lower back in thick curls with streaks of copper matching her eyes. She wears black leather pants that hug every flawless curve and a matching fitted black leather vest. I gasp at the impossible perfection before me.
I want frantically to reach out and touch her for two reasons. First, to make sure she is real, and second, I long to put my hands on something so flawless. But I can’t reach out and touch her. That’s not to say that she isn’t real. She’s real, as is the silver handgun she’s pointing at me.
I hear a car pull up, but I can’t tear myself away from the girl in front of me. “Get in,” she orders. She doesn’t need the gun. I know from the chill going down my spine that she is dead serious, and disobeying isn’t in my immediate best interest. I tear myself away from her face and see the same red car, its door open. I get into the car.
Once inside, the car zooms up Broadway going at nearly twice the speed limit. The twins are seated next to me. I want to ask where they are taking me, but I’m afraid the minute I open my mouth, I’ll cry. I refuse to give my conquerors the satisfaction of seeing me weep. Instead, I look out the window at the crowds of New Yorkers passing by. As usual they are all in a hurry to get where they need to be or leave where they’ve just been.
They remind me of my mom. She’s always racing home to make me dinner. But neither of us are good cooks, so we always end up ordering out. I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. I had been in such a rush this morning, I didn’t say good bye. I didn’t even say goodbye to Ms. Charlotte, my cat. She waits for me on the windowsill at exactly 3:30 p.m. everyday. I don’t know how she knows it’s time, but I swear she does. She’ll be waiting today….
I try to swallow but can’t. A big lump forms in my throat. Tears stream down my face. Then I remember the emergency card the man in the closet gave me. I had told him that I would help find this boy and tell him to run. It made no sense to me, but it had mattered to the man, and I should have done it. Oh well. I’m sure this boy is safer than me, wherever he is.
I surreptitiously remove the crumpled, blood-stained paper from my pocket. I can’t make out the home number or address of the boy the closet man had failed to reach. But there, printed clearly underneath light splotches of blood, it reads:
“Emerson H. Baxter.”
***************
I was wrong about the alley. We pull into a quiet, charming, tree-lined street somewhere on the Upper East Side. Everything about the neighborhood says “old money lives here,” from the rows of five story brick townhouses to the pristine community garden. When we get to the townhouse at the end of the block, the car pulls into the driveway. The twins get out of the car and hold the door open for me. I know I should try to run, but I’m sure my limbs won’t comply. I slowly get out of the car.
I see the driver for the first time. He’s black and slightly taller than Rio, but his muscular body makes him a hundred times more intimating. He’s wearing a black hoodie and a platinum twisted chain. I can’t make out his eyes under his Gucci shades. The twins motion to me to go into the house. Sensing I’m about to object, Rio sighs impatiently, and Miku takes my hand and walks me through the frosted glass door.
The house is breathtaking. From the high-dimension ceiling to the smooth wheat-colored finished floor, there isn’t one square inch that’s not appealing to the eye. The house has a historic feel, but the décor is modern with sleek, clean lines. The browns and reds that highlight the décor make the space warm and cozy. The paintings are mostly Monet. Some I recognized but two I have never seen before. The bay window looks out onto the Park.
Rio and the driver come in behind us and close the door. I’m feeling lightheaded and find it hard to focus. Miku looks at me, smiles brightly and says, “I’ll get you a soda,” as if this were any other day and I’m a good friend who happened to come by. Rio goes into another room and comes back with a small trash can and places it at my feet. “Don’t bother,” he says to Miku. Just then a wave of nausea hits me. I double over and vomit. I miss the can completely.
Miku goes away and comes back with a wet towel. She bends down and pats my face. “I want to go home. You can’t keep me here. Please,” I beg her. She walks me over to the plush sofa and sits me down.
She turns to Rio “How is she?”
“Tired. Shocked.” I hate being talked about like I’m not in the room.
“Why are you asking him? I’m right here.”
She pays me no mind. “She should sleep,” she says to the driver.
Is she kidding me? I’ve just been in a shoot out. I’ve seen a man bleeding to death and I’m being kidnapped. How does she think I could possibly sleep?
“Tell me what’s going on. Who are you? Why did you force me into your car and who was shooting at us?” The more questions I ask the more hysterical I become.
“I want to go home,” I shout at the top of my lungs. The driver comes up to me and takes his shades off to reveal soft, warm, hazel eyes. He places a hand on my shoulders. He looks into my eyes and speaks with a soft velvet voice oozing charm. “You would like to go to sleep,” he says simply. After he said that, nothing mattered more than the desire to close my eyelids. I’ve fought off sleep before, but this isn’t like that. There’s no fight. I want nothing more than to give into darkness. The last thing I see before I drift off is the girl who held me at gun point coming towards me.
***************************
“She’s got to be a part of this whole thing. Why else would Lucy send half a dozen Runners after her?”
“She looked genuinely surprised when they came. This girl has no idea what’s going on.”
“That doesn’t make sense. The council would never expose a human to that kind of danger.”
“I’m telling you she knows nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter if Emerson knows something or not. If Lucy thinks she’s involved, she’s dead.”
As I listen to the conversation taking place in the living room, I keep my eyes closed. They had carried me into one of the bedrooms when I fell asleep. This is all a dream. This is what I get for falling asleep watching the SyFy Channel. But even as I’m saying it to myself, I know it’s a lie. This is real. And this Lucy person sent a bunch of guys to kill me. What did they call them—“Runners”? What have I done to this Lucy to make her want me dead? I’m gonna lay still and keep my eyes closed. This nightmare has to end.
“Is she awake?” I think Miku is speaking. Rio answers.
“She is, but she’s trying to wish this whole thing away.”
“We don’t have time for this.” I recognize the voice of the girl who pointed the gun at me.
She sounds irritated and on edge. I open my eyes and scan the room looking for a phone. There isn’t one. I snort at the absurdity of my situation. What would I say to the cops if there had been a phone? “Hi, my name is Emerson Baxter and I’m being kidnapped and held hostage inside, what looks to be, the centerfold of Architectural Digest.”
Someone knocks on the door of the room. Miku’s voice calls out to me sweetly behind the door, “Emmy, it’s time to get up.” She opens the door and comes over with a tray of food. She sits beside me. On the tray is a small bowl of broth with pieces of a few white squares and a hand full of green onions. “It’s miso soup. It’s good. My mom used to make it. Oh, and a turkey sandwich. I got Jay to make it for you. He’s a culinary genius, but he’s a little stingy with his talent.”
“Who’s Jay?” I question.
“The driver.”
“He should have his license revoked.”
“He did.” She laughs and handed me the tray.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Rio says you are.”
“How does he know what I feel?”
“It’s a long story. First food then Q&A, okay?”
I was ready to argue, but the aroma of the soup hit my nose and my stomach growled. I take one spoonful of the soup intending to stop there, but it is so good I end up drinking the whole thing.
Miku studies me. “Now, try the sandwich.”
“No, I’m fine. Really.” She looks pleadingly at me.
I’m such a pushover. I take a bite of the sandwich. It’s the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. It has some kind of spread that gives the turkey a kick. There’s also a light sweetness to it but I can’t figure out from what. I look at Miku in awe.
“I know. It’s amazing huh? You should try his parmesan potato bread. It’s his specialty. But he really has to like you to make it.”
I gobbled it up in four quick bites.
I am making a pig of myself, but Miku doesn’t seem to mind. She hands me a can of soda. I drink it down and wipe my mouth with the napkin she had thoughtfully placed beside the tray. I thank her. She smiles and motions for me to follow her. I take a deep breath and walk after her out of the bedroom, into the living room.
I must have been asleep for hours, judging by the dark sky. The living room is lit softly by track lights. Someone has cleaned the spot where I’d thrown up; the sour smell is gone. The house now smells of green tea and jasmine. There’s no one in sight.
“Everyone’s waiting outside,” Miku informs me as she leads the way. We walk up a few flights and through a black gated door onto the roof. Standing there beside Rio is the driver, Jay, and the gun girl.
It seems impossible but she is somehow even more striking than she was when I first saw her. She walks up to me. Her voice is official and impatient. “I’m Ameana. And this is Jayden.” She motions towards the driver. He says, “It’s cool, call me Jay.”
Ameana continues without the slightest concern as to whether I respond or not. “You have something in your possession that is vital to me and many others. We need you to hand it over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer. She looks at the others, then back at me. “You have no idea what I want from you?” she asks again. I try to keep my voice from trembling.
“N-n-no,” I say weakly. She turns to Rio. He replies, “She’s telling the truth. The Runners haven’t told her anything. She has no idea what’s going on.”
I don’t know where the anger came from. All I know is that I had had enough of this sci-fi bull. I direct my comment to Ameana. “Look, warrior princess, I don’t know what you are talking about, okay? I was just trying to help some guy I found in the hallway and then all hell broke loose! If you plan on killing me before this Lucy person, then fine, do it. If not, I have to get home.”
“How do you know Lucy? Has she come to see you?” Ameana turns Rio.
He answers her unspoken question. “She has one. I would know if she didn’t.”
“One what?” I ask.
“How do you know about Lucy?” Ameana demands again.
Hoping that if I give her some answers she’ll give me some, I reply, “I overheard you guys talking. So, who is she? Why is she out to kill me?” I look into their faces and see something in them I didn’t see when bullets rang out over our heads—fear.
“Is she some kind of super bad girl? I mean how many guns can a girl carry?” All my attempts to lighten the mood fail. “Please, tell me what’s going on. I may be able to help. But you guys have to talk to me,” I plead. They confer silently with each other.
Before anyone can speak, a boy pops out of thin air. Seriously. He came out of nowhere. Startled, I jump back, lose my balance and fall head first down the side of the five story building. I don’t even have time to register that I should scream. I try to prepare myself for the pain. My head will hit the ground first, so maybe death will come swiftly. Please, please come swiftly.
There is no pain. I feel no pain. Yes! Somehow I must have been knocked unconscious so quickly, the pain never had time to register. I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.
Then I hear Rio’s voice. “Emmy, open your eyes” I do. I am lying safely on the floor of the roof. I look up at the faces staring back at me; Rio, Jayden, Ameana, Miku and the new pop-up guy. He looks like a J Crew model. He’s wearing a designer military-style jacket, a royal blue stretch pullover that brings out his eyes, and white cargo pants.
Well, if I am dreaming, at least I’m dreaming about pretty people. Everyone on this roof is hot. Well, aside from regular looking old me. Pop-up guy says to me, “I’m Reason. But you can call me Reese.” He extends his hand. I go to shake it when I see something big and dark like a shadow hovering above. I look up at Reese and gasp. Protruding out of his shoulders blades, are wings! Honest to goodness wings! Huge, dark, disturbing, flapping-in–the-wind wings!
He sees the freaked out look on my face and then it registers with him. “Oh, sorry, I always forget.” Suddenly the wings disappear.
“Am I dead?” I choke. I look over at Miku.
She answers coyly, “No, but we are.” In the hallway shootout earlier I had thought this is as confused as I can get. I was so wrong.
Reese kneels down on one knee and takes my hand. “I’m sorry to startle you. It’s rude and very ‘un-angel-like.’ I get on Jay for gliding rudely, and here I am doing the exact same thing.” He helps me up.
I whisper something about it being okay. But I don’t think he buys it.
Ameana stares out into the dark night. The worry in her voice is obvious. “I thought he’d be back tonight….”
“You know Marcus; he won’t come back until he’s found out something. In the meantime, check on Emmy for me,” Miku says.
Ameana looks at me as if she is scanning me, as if she can see inside my body. “She’ll live,” she says dismissively—wait, can she?
Miku takes my hand. “Good, let’s all go back downstairs and talk. I’m guessing you have questions.” Um, one or two.
We all take a seat in the spotless kitchen. It has everything a cook could want, from the top of the line sub-zero refrigerator to the stainless steel eight-burner stove. It looks like no one has ever used it. If they did use it, they were obsessed about cleanliness. To stop myself from hurling all my questions out at them, I occupy myself by counting the tiny flicks of gold embedded in the black marble countertop.
“We don’t have time to play twenty questions. We only have time for one. So make it good,” Ameana instructed.
“What? I can only ask one question? Are you serious?” She looks at me and glares. “Fine” I paused. There is so much I don’t know. I have no idea where to even start. I think for a moment and ask the most important question.
“Did the man in the closet get help? Is he okay?” Miku grins as if she’s just she won the lotto. Rio shares her joy, as does Reese and Jayden. They all look at me strangely. Like I revealed something important but didn’t realize it.
“That’s what you want to know?” Ameana says incredulously.
“Well, there are lots more, but you said I could only ask one,” I say bitterly.
“He’s been taken to the hospital. He’s critical but stable. There’s a good chance he’ll make it.”
“Thank you,” I say curtly, matching her tone.
She gets up to leave the room. As she is almost out the door she says, “Fill her in. Tell her what she needs to know.” And nothing more, I think, reading between the lines. Then she walks out.
I can’t hold it anymore. “Are you angels? Who’s Lucy? Why did she send those guys after me?”
Miku gets up and pours me a glass of water. “Here, you’ll need this.”
I take it from her and drink it. I’m not thirsty, but I have a feeling she won’t take no for an answer. She sits back down and Jay prepares to addresses me. But before he can get started, Rio tells him to hold on. Then out of nowhere he says loudly, “Emmy’s cold, bring her a sweater, please.”
How did he know I was cold? I didn’t make any gestures to indicate being cold, but he’s right. I’ve been getting goose bumps for 10 minutes. I just didn’t want to stop them now that they’re finally talking.
Rio points to something next to me. I follow his gaze. I don’t see anything. He points up and there right above my head, hanging in the air is a rust colored wool sweater. It’s just hanging there in thin air. Miku nudges me to take it, and so I do.
Then she shouts towards the entry way, “Thanks Mina.”
“Wait, how did she—”
“She can move objects and people. Cool, huh?” Miku explains.
If I ever did drugs, I would stop today. But since I’ve never done them, I can’t explain what has just taken place in the past few hours.
“Miku, please! What’s going on?” I beg.
Jay comes to my rescue. His voice is steady, but he seems very far away.
“In the beginning there was the creator; the highest measure of good. Over time, this entity has been given many different names. But its original name was Omnis, which is Latin for All. Omnis created nature and with it, a law that no one element can exist without an opposing element. This is known as the law of opposites. This concept encompasses all things, except for Omnis himself.
“Omnis then created humanity. Everything had been perfect. So perfect, in fact, that humanity began to doubt the need for Omnis, and, over time, their connection to him all but disappeared.
“Omnis concluded that, like nature, humanity needed the law of opposites to keep it balanced. If humanity never felt despair, it could not seek out the hope he provided. If they never experienced sickness, they would not marvel at the grace of good health.
“And after seeing how wasteful humans were with the life he had given them, he knew that the only way for them to appreciate their own existence was to make it ephemeral. But because he loved humanity far more than anything he had ever created, it was difficult for him to be objective.
“So he created a council of impartial judges that would look at the complicated design of humanity and do what was necessary to keep it in balance. Omnis created three council members: Death, Time and Fate. Although the council honors and respects him, it operates independent of Omnis, to assure that balance is maintained.
“In addition to the council, Omnis decided he needed the opposite energy of himself. He is grace, forgiveness and goodness, so he wanted a force filled with rage, bitterness and evil. This force of evil would serve as an incentive for humanity to strive to be good and follow in the path that led to Omnis’ welcoming arms, or they would suffer at the hands of evil.
“He called on his favorite and most cherished angel, Atourum, and told him what he needed done. The angel readily offered to serve, but Omnis cautioned that in order to become the personification of evil, there had to be hate in one’s heart. Not just for humans but for Omnis himself. But Atourum could never imagine hating his creator.
“Omnis explained, ‘The only way for them to believe in me, Atourum, is for them to believe in you. Go, be merciless. Be savage and cruel. All the world will say your name with fear and contempt. Then, and only then, will they seek out salvation from me.’ Atourum bowed to his master and vowed to do as told.
“In order to become evil, Omnis sent Atourum to Earth several times for him to witness firsthand the flaws of man. Each trip to Earth made Atourum more and more susceptible to human influence and less connected to Omnis. The more affected Atourum was by humanity’s shortcomings, the harder it was to get back into heaven. Eventually Atourum gave in to the savage ways of man and committed murder. This caused Omnis to ban him from heaven forever.
“Atourum said to Omnis ‘I am now your opposing force, just as you wanted. Humanity will recognize your light by measuring it against my darkness. You take souls and put them in your mansion in the light. But humans will not appreciate this gift until you create an opposing space to the light. The only way to measure the beauty of your house is to measure it against the horror of mine.’ And so it was Atourum was granted Ren, meaning ‘house of fire.’
“They also came to an arrangement: Omnis would take all children and Atourum would take all the adults who had committed unspeakable acts. But they could not agree on who would get the souls that died as teenagers, souls that had yet to choose either the path of darkness or the path of light.
“They left it up to the council. The council decided to put souls that died between the ages of 13 and 19 on a bridge. The bridge is halfway between the light and the House of Fire. The souls would linger there until they choose the path to which they felt more connected. They would not know which is which. They would only follow the path that felt right to them.
“Neither side was allowed to guide the souls; they had to find their own way. It was called ‘The Walk.’ Each soul lingers for as long as it is undecided and then once it accepted either the light or the dark, it would go in that direction.
“Omnis and Atourum were each allowed to choose six souls from the bridge to be Watchers. A Watcher’s job is to keep an eye on the bridge and ensure that neither side intervenes in ‘The Walk.’
“Omnis chose six of the purist souls. He called them “The Guardians.” Atourum chose six of the darkest souls on the bridge and named them “Akon” meaning “chaos.”
“There were only two rules both sides had to abide by: neither side could tell a soul which way to go, and neither Omnis nor Atourum could know the location of the bridge.
“Centuries passed, the bridge would fill up, and the souls would take ‘The Walk’ and go on into the light or the darkness. Each time the bridge was empty, The Guardians and Akons would go to the light or to Ren and be promoted.
“On the first cycle of the bridge, the soul chosen to be first Guardian was a soul named Julian. He watched vigilantly and made sure that nothing interfered with ‘The Walk.’ All the souls were left to choose their own path.
“One day he took notice of a soul on the bridge that seemed to be having more trouble than the rest. It seems this soul wanted to follow the light but was drawn to the darkness. Julian watched it waver back and forth. It couldn’t decide which path to follow.
“Julian talked to the soul. Her name was Femi. She lived in a small village in Nigeria. Her whole family was killed when her village was raided. She was subsequently beaten to death for standing up to the men who did it.
“She told him that she was drawn to the darkness because of what it offered her: power, strength, and control. Since her life on Earth had lacked those things, she ached to have them. The other side offered her peace, happiness and hope, but she had seen those things on Earth and they were easily taken away.
“When Julian was on the bridge just as a soul, it never appealed to him to follow any direction but the light. But as he talked to Femi, he began to understand her and sympathize with her dilemma.
“She was hopeful and filled with peace, but when violence came this last time it had stripped her of those things. ‘Why run to happiness if it can get taken away?’ she asked. Julian understood for the first time that ‘The Walk’ was easier for some than others; there were souls that could not feel the inferno of hell or the glory of heaven. That would have made it too easy for them. They’d have to decide what they wanted most: peace or power. That was the only question that stood between heaven and hell.
“Julian couldn’t stop watching Femi go back and forth on the bridge. He thought about her constantly. He spoke to the other Guardians. They encouraged him to keep distance and not interfere. They were certain she would follow whatever path she was destined to take.
“Souls had come and gone on the bridge, but Femi was still undecided. She’s so confused. Julian reasoned. She’s not evil, she’s just broken. So one day, unable to watch her suffer indecision anymore, Julian pointed the way to the light.
“Not long after, Atourum summoned the council and asked Omnis to attend. Once all of them had gathered, Atourum told everyone that, according to the Akons, Julian had broken the rules. Atourum was livid and demanded revenge.
“‘She was my soul. She would have gone to me,’ Atourum spat.
“‘You don’t know that. She has goodness in her,’ Julian responded.
“Omnis told Julian to approach. He addressed his servant warmly but firmly. ‘You have disobeyed me. I know your heart is true and you have goodness and purity in you, but you have yet to learn obedience. I will send you back to Earth as many times as it takes for you to learn to follow my directions.’ Then Julian was cast out of the sky.
“The council asked Atourum what he would like as retribution for the rule that had been broken. Atourum said: ‘I ask to know the location of the bridge.’ The council flatly refused. They knew that once Atourum found the bridge, there would be an invasion. All the souls would go towards darkness by fear or by force. That would more than triple the size of Atourum’s followers, enabling them to destroy all of humanity.
“Furious, Atourum reminded the council that they were supposed to be objective. He accused them of siding with Omnis. The council went behind closed doors to talk the matter over. When they reached a decision, all parties were once again gathered.
“Death, Time, and Fate all spoke in unison. ‘We, the council appointed by Omnis, have come to a conclusion on the matter of the bridge and the broken rule. While we will not give Atourum the location of the bridge, we will create a triplex that holds a map to the bridge. The triplex will then be placed somewhere on Earth every six hundred and sixty-six years. You, Atourum, will be given a chance to seek out the triplex.
“‘If the map is found before midnight of that year, you will be permitted on to the bridge to do with the souls whatever you wish. If Atourum does enter the bridge, all balance will be lost and the Earth will be plunged into chaos and fire. Therefore we are also granting the Guardians a chance to seek out the map and destroy it.
“We will hide it somewhere on Earth. Each side can go about seeking the map any way they choose. However, the same basic rules still apply: Guardians can not kill human beings. If this is done, they will be thrown down to the flames. Only the first Guardian can take a life; and although Akons can kill a human, they can not take a soul unless that soul is willing. Each side will be given a name with which to start their search.
“Only humans that are integral to the search can be informed of the mission. If humanity as a whole should find out about the search, the council will intervene and both sides will be punished. Humanity must remain, with a few exceptions, unaware of what is happening. We can not and will not tolerate exposure, as humans are frail and panic when faced with uncertainty.’
“And so, every six hundred and sixty-six years, Guardians and Akons come down to Earth to find the Triplex.”
Panic rises inside me as I say out loud what Jay won’t. “This is the sixth hundred and sixty-sixth year.”
“I’m sorry, Emerson, but we’re going to need that in the form of a question,” Reese jokes in his best announcer voice.
I ignore him and go on. “That means you guys have to find an object that could be anywhere on Earth? If you don’t find it, we will all die a fiery death?”
“That’s about right,” Jay chimes in.
My stomach feels queasy again. Maybe eating was a bad idea. Okay, note to self: news of the end of the world is best taken on an empty stomach. I’m fighting back bile. My hands are clammy and won’t stop shaking.
“It doesn’t have to be fire. It can come in many ways, like a flood, earthquake, or tsunami. Most people think hell on earth would just be fire, but really, it’s a combination of things,” Miku says casually as if we were discussing where the best lunch specials can be found. We all stare back at her.
“What? It’s true.”
Rio looks at her dubiously. “You’re a creepy little angel.”
“So, what’s the name on the paper?”
Everyone looks at me as if to say “don’t be stupid,” but I had to ask. I need to hear it out loud. The look of sympathy on Miku’s face confirms my deepest fear.
“My name is the clue.”
“You, Ms. Baxter, have just gotten to the final round! Now, will you choose door number one or door number two?” Reese is getting on my nerves.
Apparently I’m not the only one. I feel a soft breeze beside me. I look over and Jay is still seated beside me. But I know he moved because Reese’s mouth has literally been taped shut. Jay leans back in his chair to admire his handy work. I look at him bewildered.
“How did you…?”
“Skills baby girl,” he smirks. Even as I’m hearing news of impending doom, I can’t get over how amazing he looks. And when he called me “baby girl,” I felt a warm feeling wash over me. Wow, he is so hot. Focus, Emmy. Focus.
Not one to be out done, Reese rips the tape off his mouth and “pops” up behind Jay. He holds him in a headlock.
“Where you gonna go now, speedy? Come on. I’d like to see you glide out of this,” Reese says triumphantly.
They wrestle back and forth, each trying to pin the other one down. Every time Jay gets the drop on Reese, Reese disappears. And whenever Reese manages to get the upper hand, Jay moves at an impossible speed.
Rio announces that he has dibs on Jay. Reese, offended, pops up behind Rio and pulls the chair out from under him. Miku howls with laughter. Apparently the end of the world is a light-hearted subject.
“Excuse me!” I snap, not brothering to hide my irritation. “Are you guys kidding me? Was this all a joke? I thought this was serious. You guys just brought me here as some stupid elaborate game?”
“No, it’s real Emmy.” Miku puts her hand on my shoulder. I shake it off.
“If this is real then why aren’t you guys taking it seriously?”
“We’re just tryin’ to be easy,” Jay says.
“How can you ‘be easy’? We’re talking about the end of humanity. Forever!” I am seething.
“Emmy, calm down,” Rio says gently.
“Don’t you get it? I can’t help you guys. I have no idea where your map is. Your council made a big mistake.” I look at all of them with a mixture of hysteria and disbelief.
Miku chimes in, “You’re the clue the council gave us. They’re never wrong.”
When I speak my voice is unsteady. “They’re wrong about this; I’m just some girl. I watch bad TV and spend way too much time reading about things that can’t possibly happen to me.”
I stand up and look into their all-too-calm faces. I’m so frustrated, I could scream. “If I’m your clue then we’re all dead. Do you understand?”
“Well, we’re already dead, so…,” Reese joked.
“Fine, you just sit there and keep making jokes. It’s obvious you don’t care.” I storm out of the kitchen. They all follow, with Reese heading me off.
“Stop popping out in front of me!” I shout.
“It’s called blinking,” Reese states matter-of-factly.
“Whatever. Knock it off.” I can feel rage welling up.
Jay comes from behind me and blocks my way.
“Move! I’ll fight you, angel or no angel.” The sheer thought of being confronted with violence by a girl who’s half his size and only a fraction of his strength, amuses him to no end. I ball my fist and speak through clenched teeth. “Move!”
He can barely keep from laughing. He holds his hands up as if to surrender.
“Alright, baby girl, it’s all you. I’ll just glide back to my spot, killer. It’s cool.”
He moves so fast that by the time his words hit the air, he is already out of my way. He looks like light reflected on a car window going 120 miles an hour. Now only Reese remains.
“Before you storm out, at least give us a chance to apologize,” he says as he silently appeals to Miku to intervene.
“We were just blowing off steam and we’re sorry,” Miku offers from behind me.
“No, you’re not. It’s not your life that’s coming to an end. It’s not your mother whose—”
I freeze. My mom. She’s probably got half of New York looking for me.
“It’s okay. We called her. We told her you were studying with us and you fell asleep. She knows you’ll be home late,” Rio says in an effort to calm me down.
“Who did you tell her you were?”
“Classmates of yours.”
I’m weak with relief. I crash onto the sofa and sob. They let me. They don’t approach or try to comfort me. I’m grateful for that. I need the space to fall apart.
My mind wanders from my mom and on to my neighbor, Donna. She has a four-year-old son, Benjamin. I take him to the park on weekends. He loves the swings, and he’s sure if he keeps trying he can go high enough to touch a cloud. The thought of his little body pulverized by some evil force makes me sob even harder.
And just when I think it’s not possible to shed any more tears, a fresh salty stream runs down my face. Sorrow and desolation engulf me. I stop trying to hold myself together and let the weight of my grief pull me into the fetal position. My body steadily rocks, sob by sob.
They don’t speak or impose on me in any way. They allow me all the time I need. Maybe patience is another power that angels are granted. And even though I’m ensconced in misery, I’m certain that if they were not been with me, I would be worse.
Finally I stop crying. I don’t feel better, I’ve simply run out of tears. So I just lie there and take in the silence. My head is throbbing. I’m light-headed and empty. I should eat something but the thought of chewing is exhausting.
“I have some questions,” I say to no one in particular. My throat is raw and strained. I speak so softly I think they don’t hear me.
Rio asks, “What do you want to know?”
“What’s a tri thingy?”
“A Triplex. It’s a cover coat that protects the object inside it by taking the shape of its surroundings. It’s what our wings are coated with. That’s why you can’t see them even though they’re out all the time; it blends into whatever surroundings we’re in. If it’s snowing, the Triplex will take the form of falling snow,” Rio explains.
“Can’t people feel your wings when they’re standing beside them?
Reese responds, “Not with the Triplex. It takes no space. It has no definite form. You can only find it if you expect it to be there. I can always see Miku’s wings because I know that they are there.”
“Why did I see yours before then?” I inquire.
“Because you thought you were dead. You were expecting angels; so you saw one. I’m not sure you realize it but you screamed the whole way down… and even after you were safely back on the roof.” He’s trying hard not to make fun of me. “I think I lost all hearing in my left ear.” Apparently he can’t help himself, nor can I really blame him.
I must have looked like a nut. I didn’t even realize I had screamed. “Sorry about that,” I mumble.
“What? I can’t hear,” Rio shouts back.
I throw a pillow at him and he blocks it with his wings. It didn’t get anywhere near him.
“So the map of the bridge is in the Triplex, making it virtually impossible to find,” I surmise.
“Virtually,” Jay chimes in. “But since your name is our clue, we think that the council met you and decided to leave the Triplex with you.”
“I think I would remember running into Death, Time and Fate, don’t you?”
Miku replies “Actually, no, you wouldn’t. The council would have used someone you know to put the Triplex somewhere in your life where you wouldn’t discard it, either because of necessity or sentiment.”
“Nothing jumps out at me. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. It will,” she says encouragingly.
“We’re already two days into the New Year. Why did it take so long for you guys to come to me?” I ask.
“There are 53 Emerson’s in New York City alone,” Reese retorts.
“So, how do you know that I’m the one?”
“You’re the only one being shot at today.”
“Oh.” Point taken.
“It’s more than that. I’d felt dark waves heading toward you and thought that it would be a good idea for us to keep a closer eye on you,” Rio adds from across the room.
“You knew they’d attack me?” I am amazed. “Can you tell the future?”
“Why, you play lotto?” Rio jokes.
“Seriously. How do you do it?”
“All Watchers, Guardians and Akons have at least one power. It comes from their last moments on earth. Let’s say you were crushed by a car on your last night on Earth—”
“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Miku says, completely taken by the image of carnage in her head.
“—Anyway.” Rio rolls his eyes and continues. “Let’s say after being crushed to death, you get chosen to be a Guardian. Your power would be the ability to manipulate metal because at your time of death, that is what your spirit asked of Omnis. Everyone’s powers have to do with the way they died.”
“So, you can’t see the future,” I state, half-deflated by this additional downer to death.
“No, but I can feel the emotions and desires of people miles away from me. Their emotions give way to their actions. I knew you were feeling nausea even before it registered in your body. “
“That’s why you brought over the trash can,” I say, amazed.
“Yeah I could tell by your color wave you were feeling unsettled and overwhelmed. I knew you’d get sick but I didn’t know the exact moment or where to place the trash,” Rio clarifies.
“You see people’s feeling as colors?”
“Yep, he’s our very own mood ring,” Jay teases.
Rio ignores him and continues. “They appear in colored waves. Humans usually emanate the same three colors; orange, gray and blue. That usually means worry, insecurity and fear. It can change throughout the day. If they meet a loved one or find out there’s a baby on the way, the change is powerful. They radiate a soft white glow.”
“So you know what the guy down the street is feeling right now?”
“I know what Manhattan is feeling. That’s how I was able to find you in the hall. Your color wave is almost always…” He was going to say something but then thought better of it.
“Let’s just say your color changed to onyx. That means the person fears for their life.”