“Um, yeah. The blood sort of gave you away.”
“That wasn’t Bertie’s blood,” he said. He looked hurt, and I almost felt sorry for him. But how do you feel sorry for a killer? “I was protecting him,” he continued.
“I thought you didn’t protect people,” I countered.
“I protect people who are being attacked,” he explained. “I don’t protect daft teenage girls who wander into places they shouldn’t.”
“Really, I’m daft? Then you’re a . . . gobermouch!” I shouted at him, pleased I’d remembered an Old English insult I’d learned from watching the History Channel with Mom. Swearing wasn’t really my thing, but my blood was boiling. I wished I had the nerve to slap him.
He jerked a little, as if I had actually struck him. “I’m sorry if it seems I’m insulting you,” he exhaled, “but I don’t know how else to explain it. Your interference got me taken off my mission and put on Guardian patrol. I’m frustrated because I’m a Warrior, not a babysitter.”
“Oh, I know what you are.” I was seething inside. “You’re lucky I don’t turn you in to the police.”
He raised one side of his lips in amusement. “The police couldn’t touch me.”
I wanted to wipe the smug smile off his face. “Of course not.” I raised my palms in surrender. “I forgot: you’re a big, bad demon. No one can touch you. Except you seem aggravated enough by a dumb teenage girl who’s not scared of you one bit, by the way.”
He looked stunned. “What did you call me?”
“It’s all right, I know what you are, but I don’t care. For some insane reason, I keep trying to be friends with you anyway. Even though it appears you’d rather slit my throat than talk to me.”
He stopped walking, and grabbed me by the arm to stop me as well. His touch was electrifying. “You think I’m a demon?” he asked.
“I don’t think, I know.” I loved having his fingers on me, but I shrugged his hand off and took a step back in defiance.
He started laughing. Not a little chuckle, but a deep-down belly laugh. It sounded like music, but it aggravated me all the same.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“Oh that’s rich, that’s really rich. You think I’m a demon,” he chuckled.
“You prefer ‘cold-blooded murderer’?”
He wiped his eyes. “I’m no murderer, Maren,” he said. “I’m not even allowed to kill humans. And I’m certainly not a demon.”
He stopped talking and stared into my eyes like he was trying to penetrate them, to see more deeply inside of me. His blue eyes were like calm water. I wanted to swim in them. I couldn’t help myself, but I still wished that he would lean in and kiss me. I more than wished; I prayed for it. His face was sweet again and he looked happy, like he’d figured something out.
When he finally spoke, his voice made my knees weak. “Maren,” he said softly, “I kill demons. The blood on my hands was demon blood. They attacked Bertie, and I was too late to save him. You saw the demons running away like the pigs that they are, but more importantly, they saw you. That’s why I have to guard you now. Until their group leaves the area.”
I was confused. I was so sure he was a demon. If he isn’t a demon, what is he?
“I’m sort of the opposite of a demon, Maren,” he said, answering my thoughts. “I’m an angel.”
I blinked. Special forces, secret police, even mobster I was prepared for. But an angel?
“You are not,” I said.
He looked at me again with a sweet sincerity that seemed almost heavenly. “You don’t believe in angels, then?”
“No, I . . . I do. I believe in angels,” I said. “But they’re just . . .”
“They’re just what?” He smiled gently.
“They’re all good and perfect and passive,” I said. “They’re calm and nurturing, and they don’t fight!”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Tell me more.”
“Angels are little, and they help you sleep,” I said stupidly.
“I think you’re talking about fairies, and those are fictional.” His bemusement was palpable. I wanted to melt into the ground in embarrassment. “You’ve never seen angels depicted in paintings or on cathedral walls or anything?” The statue of the angel on the side of the church flashed in my mind. “Young men with flaming swords?” he continued. “We figure pretty heavily in the Bible.”
He was right, of course. Angels in the Bible were always smiting demons and bringing wrath to the wicked. My heart heaved with guilt. While my mom and I didn’t go to church regularly, the Bible was required reading every Sunday morning in our house . . . at least until she died. Babbling about baby angels made it sound like I only got my religion from greeting cards.
“We’re not perfect,” he said. “We’re flawed and we struggle, just like humans. The only difference is we’re immortal, and we were created for one purpose: to counteract evil.”
Could it be true? Was it even possible? He certainly looked human, although he was insanely handsome. His smooth voice and amazing accent made me want to believe anything he said. He could tell me he was half pumpkin and I’d buy it. I didn’t like that he had such sway over me. I didn’t want to be gullible just because he was gorgeous. Especially since, as hard as I tried not to, I was falling for him.
I had to know who he really was.
“Prove it,” I demanded.
“Prove what?”
“Prove that you’re an angel. Fly or something,” I said.
He motioned at my grandparents’ house. My grandmother was high-fiving the windowpane like a fruitcake. Horrifying.
“I can’t exactly just take off in front of her,” he explained.
“Likely story,” I answered.
“I can take you home with me,” he suggested. “Will that work? Will you believe me then? A fighting party went out today that I was supposed to be a part of.” He scanned the sky. “I would like to know how they made out.”
I had no idea if his “home” would prove anything, but I was dying to see where he lived. If he had a normal house with a normal mom, maybe she could explain his lunacy. Remind him to take his medication . . .
“Sure,” I agreed. “Where is it?”
“My clan is here in Scotland,” he said.
Angels live in clans? Interesting.
“Why do you live on earth and not in heaven?” I asked.
“Angels were sent to earth to help battle the forces of darkness,” he explained, “but as the human race grew, so did their need for protection. So we could be where we were needed more quickly, we set up camp around the world.”
“So where is it? This clan of yours?”
“My village is in a valley a few miles from here. In a different dimension, of course, that humans can’t see.”
“Of course.” I nodded. His story was getting more bizarre by the second, but I wanted to see where it was going.
“How do we get there?” I asked.