Barnabas stood, and I watched him weave his way through the crowd with that ball of light trailing behind him. Susan’s friends noticed him, and, giggling, they hushed themselves. Pretending ignorance, Barnabas smiled and shook Susan’s hand. As if it was a signal, the hazy light shifted from him to her. She had her guardian angel; she would be safe. A knot of worry eased in me.
“Thanks for keeping him talking out there,” Barnabas said, brushing his wet hair aside in a casual show that made someone in the back sigh. “You should go to the hospital with him. He’s going to have to stay awake all night in case he has a concussion.”
Susan flushed. “Sure. Yes. You think they’d let me?” She turned to the counselor. “Can I go?”
At the chorus of catcalls and a yes, Susan flashed a smile and jogged to the ambulance. The haze of light entered the ambulance before Susan, and Barnabas’s faint tension vanished, telling me that he, too, had been worried about her. It just seemed like he hadn’t cared.
Feeling better, I looked at him and smiled, glad it was over. The reaper’s face went blank and my smile faded. He turned on a heel and walked off, expecting me to follow.
Head down, I wove through the diminishing crowd after him, my satisfaction at having saved Susan stilling to a gray ash. If I had had another way home, I’d have taken it. Barnabas looked ticked.
Two
The air in the upper reacheshad been frigidly cold, and my wet hair felt frozen when Barnabas landed us right where we’d started this morning: New Covington High’s rear parking lot. As usual, his wings had vanished in a swirl of back wind before I got a good look at them, replaced with dry jeans, a casual black T-shirt, and a gray duster totally inappropriate for the hot weather but totally suitable for making him look good. The soft color reminded me of his wings as it draped over his shoulders and fell to his heels.
Unsure, I wove through a few cars to get to the bike rack. The vehicles hadn’t been here this morning, and I wondered what was up. It took me two tries to get the combination right, and I slowly wheeled my green ten-speed back to the shade and Barnabas, propping it against the waist-high wall between the steep hillside and the main road before I slumped against it to wait for Ron, Barnabas’s boss.
I missed my car, still back in Florida with my mom, but the lack of a vehicle had been more than made up for by the chance to get to know my dad again. Mom had sent me up here because she’d had it with teacher/principal/parent chats and worrying when the phone rang after dark that it would be a cop.
Okay, so maybe I had been a little enthusiastic in “exerting my freethinking tendencies,” as the school counselor had told my mom, right before he privately told me to quit acting out for attention and grow up, but it had all been innocent stuff.
A cicada whined from somewhere, and I scrambled up onto the wall beside Barnabas and crossed my arms over my chest. Immediately I put them down, not wanting to look pensive. Barnabas looked pensive enough for both of us. His grip on me on the flight back had been uncomfortable. He’d been quiet too. Not that he ever talked much, but there was a stiffness now, almost a brooding. Maybe he was annoyed that he got wet jumping into the lake. My entire backside was damp now, thanks to him.
Uneasy, I pretended to fix my shoelaces so I could shift an inch or so away from him. I could’ve asked him to drop me off at home, but my bike was here. Not to mention I hadn’t wanted nosy Mrs. Walsh to catch sight of Barnabas sprouting wings and flying away. I swear, the woman had binoculars on her windowsill. School had been the only place that I’d thought no one would see us. Why there were cars here now was beyond me.
I dug my phone out of a pocket, turned it on, checked for missed calls, and tucked it away. Glancing at Barnabas, I said, “I’m sorry I got you identified on your reap.”
“It wasn’t a reap. It was a scythe prevention.”
His voice was tight, and I thought that for someone who’d been around for so long, he could sure act childishly. Maybe that was why he was assigned to seventeen-year-olds.
“I’m still sorry,” I said as I picked at the top of the cement wall.
Leaning against the wall, Barnabas put his squinting gaze on the sky and sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”
I drummed my nails on the hard cement as again the silence descended. “It figures the beautiful one would be the dark reaper.”
Barnabas brought his gaze back to me, affronted. “Beautiful? Nakita is a dark reaper.”