I looked around and saw that the few angels not in the “Healing Hut” with the injured Caedon were either on their way to it or rushing away from it to fetch something.
Only the younger angels remained, still skipping about the grassy village center, swishing bloom-covered sticks like magic wands or swords. If any of them beside Cassidy knew about the accident, they didn’t show it. They giggled, chased each other, and rolled around in the dirt as if it were still the happiest day of their lives.
That’s because it is, I realized. When you’re little, every day is a happy day. Everything is easier. You don’t even know how to worry. I wondered at what age stress and fear and self-doubt started to creep in. It was certainly well before seventeen . . .
Cassidy let go of my hand and ran off to join the fun. I sat on the grass and watched until a little angel with chestnut curls, who looked about four years old, wandered up to me. She held out a fistful of tiny daisies.
“Hi,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Here,” she said. When I took the flowers, she sat down next to me.
Without even thinking about it, I began to make a daisy chain: tying the stems into a circle, slipping a new flower through the loop, tightening it, and starting again. In no time, I’d made a pretty necklace. I put it over the little angel’s head, and her face lit with delight.
I was happy to feel useful, even if it only meant making flower chains; and soon I had sticky, green fingers and a group of tiny admirers. Before long, we were all covered in necklaces, bracelets, rings, crowns, and even blooming anklets.
From where the little angels and I sat, there wasn’t a trouble in the world. If only that was true, I thought.
I have no idea how long I played with the angels, but I could have continued for hours more. I sent a message to Rielly asking if I could do anything, and heard back that my entertaining the little ones was an enormous help, and to stay put. I was prepared to do just that until forever, but the way Gavin came sprinting across the grass with his forehead twisted in knots told me otherwise.
“Maren!” he called. “We’ve got to get you home!”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I noticed the sky was a little darker, and my imagination instantly got the best of me. “Are the demons coming here?” I asked, my voice cracking a little.
I was determined to appear brave to Gavin, but my eyes double-crossed me and started to fill with tears. He was beside me now, and placed a hand gently on my cheek. He looked into my eyes and lowered his voice.
“I’m sorry, I’ve given you a fright. Some Guardian I am! First I forget about you, now I’ve made you cry.” He clucked sympathetically. “I told you, this is sacred ground. Demons aren’t allowed here. But we’ve got to get you home. The sun’s almost down, and your grandparents will be worried sick.”
His strength and calm comforted me. I couldn’t believe I’d practically burst into tears. I must have been more affected by the stress of the day than I thought. And I was perfectly safe. I guiltily remembered not everyone was.
“Caedon, is he going to be okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” he assured me. “And I’ll tell you all about it on the trip. But I’m afraid there’s no longer any time for walking. We’re going to have to fly.”
“You mean, like, fly with wings?” I said, wiping at my eyes. “But you don’t have any.”
“Of course I do,” he said, pretending to be hurt. “How can you even say that to me? It’s . . . it’s crushing!” We were flirting or something again. And I loved it. It made the blood race extra hot through my veins.
“Are they invisible? Can’t be seen by the human eye?” I teased.
“You can see them,” he answered. “You just haven’t seen them yet. It’s a rare treat, you know, getting to see an angel’s wings. Not many humans do.”
“Let’s have it, then,” I said. “Let’s see these big, fancy wings of yours.”
If our playful banter hadn’t made me forget my fear, the sight of Gavin removing his shirt did. In one fluid move, he pulled his tunic over his head and stood before me bare chested. As I stared at his muscle-covered body, he started to shrug his shoulders, and I noticed he was clenching his jaw a little. I heard a rustling sound, and then two giant wings exploded out of his back. When he flexed them out to their full width, a small pocket of wind rushed past me, like warm breath on my face. I was dumbstruck.
“Well?” he said, turning a bit from side to side, like a boy showing off his moves in gym class. Each wing was at least five feet across, and covered in rows of glistening white feathers. The feathers were small and tightly packed near the arched curve at the top, and then gradually grew bigger until they were each longer than a foot. I squinted to see if they were actually laced with sparkles, or just so shiny they reflected even the tiniest bit of light. I couldn’t tell, but I could easily see that he was seriously stunning from every single angle.
He held out his white tunic. “Wrap this around your shoulders. It can get cold up there.” I did as he suggested, shivering not at the anticipated drop in temperature but at the realization that the cloth that had just caressed his body now hugged mine. His shirt was soft, and still warm from his body heat.
“All right,” he commanded, walking closer to me. “Let’s be having you.”
To my simultaneous delight and horror, Gavin swooped my feet out from under me and cradled me against his spectacular chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, as he pressed me against his bare skin. It was the closest I’d ever been to a guy, the most I’d ever touched or been held by someone since I was a child, and my body sang in response. He was warm, soft, and strong—a heavenly combination. I felt like I was at home in his arms.
“Hold on,” he whispered. He began to run. Feeling his muscular body working under me was exhilarating. As he ran, the rhythm was smooth, not at all jerky or awkward. Like our bodies were meant to fit together.
I was expecting him to float or at least flap upward, but we took off like a jet plane, him gaining speed until a swift jump sent us soaring at an angle. In seconds, we were cruising over the treetops.
When he moved his wings, it was slowly but powerfully, and I could feel his chest muscles flexing with the effort. I peeked over his shoulder and looked at them. His wings sounded like a heartbeat every time they opened. The rhythm was soothing. I pressed my head back against his chest. I heard his actual heartbeat and found that it matched the beating of his wings.
After a few blissful minutes, I looked down and recognized the landscape as the area near my grandparents’ house.
“We’re almost back, and you promised you’d tell me how Caedon got hurt,” I said quietly, hoping my question wouldn’t upset him.