“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said. “That’s from your mum.”
“But yours was too, and you lost it running around London because of me.” I held the shiny chain out. “You need one to get into Jonathan’s village anyway, and I want you to have mine. I want to know that you have something from me. If you don’t take it now, I’ll follow you all the way to the bridge, weeping. Like a sad puppy. It will be terribly embarrassing for you.”
She giggled, which made me giggle. “All right, if you insist.” I nodded and slipped it over her head. “I’ll never take it off!” she promised.
“You’d better not, or I’ll hunt you down.”
“Promise?” She grinned.
“Absolutely,” I answered.
I gave her a final hug and sent her on her way, bravely holding back more tears until she disappeared around the corner. Then I flopped on the bed and sobbed myself to sleep.
Jo stood in a field of wildflowers. The sun shone unusually bright, forcing me to squint my eyes to see her. This gave her a fuzzy glow, making her twirling, gymnastic movements even more fairylike. She spotted me and smiled.
A shadow crossed the grass and darkened her face for a moment. I looked up and saw a black bird circling. The dazzling light made the animal hard to see, so I held my palm out to cover the sun. The bird’s wings were scalloped at the ends, like a bat’s.
Jo didn’t look up; she never took her eyes off of me. She waved a just-picked bouquet of bright purple. The shadow returned to her face and grew larger. Much larger. The bird was descending.
The creature let out a terrible, piercing scream that made my head throb. I stuck my fingers in my ears. Moving my hand caused the sun to flash me right in the eyes, and everything became bright red for a moment. I shut my eyes to refocus, and when I opened them, I saw the bird wasn’t a bird at all. It was a demon, all red-bodied and slick with blood. It swooped down and grabbed Jo before either of us could move. I tried to scream, but the sickening sound flying out of the demon’s mouth drowned out everything else.
During those first few seconds of consciousness after I woke up from my unexpected afternoon nap, I thought everything was okay, the same way I’d reacted after my mom died; I would wake up and think everything was normal, that she was down in the kitchen baking cinnamon scones. It was an amazing feeling. But before I could enjoy it, reality would come and punch me in the face.
I was lying in my bed at Magnificat. Hunter was gone. Forever. Gavin was not allowed near me. And I was still having terrible dreams.
Jo! My dream was about Jo! My chest tightened at the thought that something horrible had happened to her. And I was a million feet underground, helpless.
I jumped out of bed. It was time to go home. I was done with Magnificat, done with secret codes and dangerous missions. I wanted to get back to my grandparents, to Jo, to my life. I would figure out how to send a call over to Gavin, and we’d be on our way.
I threw open the door and walked right into a Messenger angel. She was insanely tall—over seven feet—dressed in flowing robes, and was more than blocking my exit.
“Sorry,” I said. “If you’re looking for Hunter, she’s already left.”
“I’m actually here for you, Maren.” Her voice resonated like harp strings. “You’ve been summoned.”
CHAPTER 28
Standing alone in the light-filled room, in front of three tall chairs that held three very tall individuals, it was hard not to think of the Inquisition. Or a television cop show. They weren’t policemen, of course; they were angels. And I wasn’t being charged with a crime. At least, not yet. But I did feel like I was being interrogated.
The oldest one, the one who did most of the talking, leaned forward and asked me yet another question. He had a short, well-trimmed white beard and a shiny bald spot on top of his head. He reminded me of Moses.
“Do you know why this place is called Magnificat?”
“No,” I answered.
“Can you guess, though?” he challenged. “Try. Really think about it. Go on.”
I took a deep breath. Nothing they had asked me so far was terribly difficult, but I still had no idea why I was there. I couldn’t imagine the High Council sat around asking teenaged girls to solve riddles, and I was getting kind of sick of it. I wanted to catch Gavin before he left, but I had a feeling they already knew that.
“Magnificat is the name of an all-girls’ Catholic high school outside Cleveland, Ohio.” I shrugged. “My old school beat them in lacrosse when I was a freshman.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” the angel said. Does he know I’m not really trying? I couldn’t tell from his face, but the three of them did look like they could sit there for hours. I decided to dig a little deeper in the hopes of finally ending the celestial quiz session.
“Well, it’s a Latin word, right?” He nodded for me to continue. “It’s got the root magna which means ‘great,’ like in ‘magnanimous’ or the ‘Magna Carta.’ It reminds me of the word magnify, which is basically to make something greater, or bigger. Um, so isn’t that what magnificat actually means in Latin, ‘to magnify’?” How do I know any of this? I can’t even ask where the bathroom is in Spanish.
“Yes,” he answered, leaning forward. “Keep going.”
“The Magnificat is a prayer, a prayer to Mary. No, it’s her prayer, right? It’s what Mary says when she meets up with her cousin Elizabeth?” I could see from their faces that I was right.
“Anything else?” the angel asked.
I closed my eyes to see if I could summon any more information out of my brain. “It’s used in the Roman Catholic Vespers, Lutheran Vespers, and the Anglican Evening Prayer. It’s usually sung, and it was put to music by . . . Bach.” I stopped. I heard myself talking, but I had no idea where the information was coming from.
The angel leaned back and consulted with his companions. They spoke in low whispers. After a few minutes, he tipped toward me again.
“Thank you, Miss Hamilton. You’ve impressed us with your ability and your patience,” he said. I hope he isn’t being sarcastic about the patience bit. “We have only one more question for you: how do you know all of these answers?”
Finally, my last question, and it was a trick question. How? Who the heck knows?
“I don’t know,” I said simply, hoping they would accept the truth. “The information is just there, like it’s been beamed into my head or something.” I shrugged in an effort to appear I didn’t care, but my newly discovered genius was freaking me out.
“Maren,” the angel said, surprising me by suddenly using my first name. “You are a most unique young lady. We’ve been waiting for you for some time now.”
“For me? Why?”