My guardian angel was singing, her tinkling voice adding to the travesty.
“The truck moves, right?” I said, and Josh took a deep breath. Hands shaking, he put the truck, still running, in gear. Carefully edging back into the street, he accelerated. Every second put more space between Josh and Kairos, between Kairos and me.
Josh turned his music off, much to the guardian angel’s disappointment. His gaze was behind us more than in front. In a flurry of panicked motion, he put his seat belt on.
“Are you okay?” I asked, then leaned in to look at his speedometer. I’d never seen someone as white as he was now. Maybe I should have been driving.
He licked his lips. “That was him. He asked for you by name.”
My chest hurt, and I took a deep breath to explain. “At least he didn’t kill you. Hey, can you slow down? There are other people here.”
“He might follow us,” he said. I put a comforting hand on his arm, but it made him jump.
“He can’t track you by your aura because of my amulet—as long as you are close to me, you’re safe.”
From the bell came a voice chiming, “It’s the angel, baby, not your amulet.”
“Yeah,” I shot back, “but he won’t believe that.”
Crap.I closed my mouth and cringed. Josh slowed down as a cop car raced past us, heading for the accident. Pulling to the curb, he turned to me. “Who are you talking to? Please, please, please don’t tell me it’s dead people.”
My head started to hurt. I was really stupid sometimes. “Uh, my, uh, guardian angel,” I said hesitantly.
“She’s, uh, on your Harley bell.”
“Guardian angel?”
I gave him a sickly smile. “She’s a Guardian, Reaper-Augmented Cherub, Extinction Security, one-seventy-six. Or G.R.A.C.E.S. one-seventy-six for short.” I couldn’t call her that. Grace, though, maybe.
Josh began to protest, and Grace made the bellping . Josh stared at it, white-faced. “Madison?” he said softly.
“Yes?”
“You’re dead?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
He swallowed, both hands on the wheel as he looked up through the strip of blue-tinted glass to the sky.
“And those aren’t crows?”
Wincing, I noted the black wings were at the horizon again, circling. “No,” I said, and Josh let his forehead hit the steering wheel with a softthump .
“But you’re okay?” he said to his knees.
“Because I have my amulet,” I said, holding it. “You’re okay because Ron left me with a guardian angel while he tries to convince the seraphs to let me keep it.” Twisting, I turned to look behind us. “Kairos knows your aura resonance from the prom, but he can’t see it if you’re with me. But maybe we should, uh, get moving again.”
Not saying a word, Josh checked behind him and put the truck back in gear. We headed through town by way of the side roads. “Uh,” I said uncertainly, “you want to come over to my house for a sandwich?”
“S-sure.”
I licked my lips, not liking his shell-shocked expression as he made a left to get on the interstate and take the long way to the other side of town. I knew how it felt to have death touch you, realizing you’d be dead but for the whim of something that really didn’t care one way or the other.
“I’m sorry you got involved,” I said, remembering Josh’s voice when he slid down the slope that night, trying to reach me even as Kairos cut my thread of life. “You were there. It wasn’t a dream. But I want to thank you. Because of you, I didn’t die alone.”
Five
Josh sat uneasily at the rectangular tablein the kitchen, his legs stretching from one end to the other. He had made two sandwiches for himself, and the shaved ham spilled out all over. He liked ice in his pop, and barbecue-flavored chips. Me, I had a thin sandwich, a handful of chips, and a glass of iced tea. I enviously watched him slam down half his soda in one gulp. I hadn’t been hungry since I’d hit ctrl/alt/del.
Coming up with excuses for my dad as to why I wasn’t eating was getting harder.
The kitchen hadn’t been remodeled since the house was built, and the white-and-yellow-tiled splashboard and the cream-colored walls looked tired. The cupboards were a blah brown, and the fridge was the one I remembered from before my parents separated. But tucked in a corner was a state-of-the-art coffeemaker, proving my dad had his priorities. There was a small lazy Susan with napkins, salt and pepper, and a dusty ashtray sitting right where it would be in my mom’s kitchen—whispers of her still in my dad’s life though she’d been gone for years.
Josh looked at my sandwich as I sat across from him. “Is that all you’re going to eat?” he questioned, and I shrugged.