CHAPTER 6: SUMMONING
To say that I was bewildered would be illuminating the obvious. I was bordering on overwhelming incredulity. Angels. All my preconceived notions about the mythical creature went up in a puff of smoke. I thought they were fairytales. My mind was in a whirlwind, and I couldn’t seem to turn off the insane wind that was causing the uproar. Life would be so much easier if some things, including facets of my brain, came with an off button.
Karen had left me in my office to give me some time alone to adjust to everything she had told me. It felt like she had dropped the equivalent of an atomic bomb on my head and left me to sift through the debris. I took several deep breaths and made a list in my head.
One: I’ve lost my mind.
Two: there are now four angels in this building. That I know of.
Three: I’ve completely and utterly lost my mind.
Four: a Shadow of the Sun tracked me down, yet I survived. According to Karen this was perplexing, to say the least.
And five: I have a guardian angel, sworn to protect me, probably because I was in some life-threatening danger.
Fantastic.
My head fell into my hands. I was overwhelmed. Why me? Of all the people on this planet, why was I picked to be guarded? My life as I knew it was slipping through my fingers like water. This meant more secrets and lies. Didn’t I already have to keep a majority of my life a mystery to those I met?
Men came and went in my life, realizing I would never divulge the secrets I learned about in the lab and feeling my secrets created an emotional barrier. Of course, they also felt an “emotional barrier” when I wouldn’t sleep with them on the first date. I didn’t have time for them anyway.
Someone tapped on my door, and I jumped so high out of my chair that it nearly rolled out from under me. My fingers clutched onto the arm rests.
“Who is it?” I asked shakily. I really needed to get a grip.
“Sally.”
All my jittery nerves rushed down my legs like small electric shocks, so I wobbled when I stood. I opened the door without any expectations. As soon as it cracked open, Sally pushed her way through. She looked, of all things, apologetic. It wasn’t a look that suited her well nor one I had ever seen on her before.
“I’m so sorry,” she spluttered. “I don’t know what I was doing in here earlier.”
“Sally, calm down,” I said softly. She was nineteen, and sometimes I couldn’t help but feel motherly towards her, even though she was rude and acted like she was better than everyone.
“I can’t explain it,” she said in a shaky voice, her eyes not meeting mine. “One second I’m sitting at my desk, and the next thing I hear this voice. I don’t even know how I got in here.” She stared at me, expecting me to say something, but I was speechless. She looked at the floor. “It told me to open the box in your office.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” I soothed. “I believe you.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. “You . . . believe me?” she asked, incredulous.
“Absolutely,” I said sincerely. “Listen, we have no time to talk right now. I’m heading to Washington D.C., and I need a familiar face there with me. Go home, pack your bags, and I’ll have someone pick you up in one hour.”
She wiped the tears from her face and nodded before backing away and leaving my office. I had a feeling I was going to regret this immediately.
Rain splattered across my windshield while the wipers worked furiously to clear the glass. It was that time of year again in Oregon—not quite cold, not quite hot—when all the trees turned a brilliant orange or red and the leaves covered every inch of the ground, giving it a golden look. It was Darren’s brilliant idea to build Zelko Corporation out in the middle of nowhere, but the isolation was slowly growing on me.
Regardless of the fall colors, it was warmer outside than I expected, a rarity for this part of the country. The sky was dark and angry, and the trees danced from side to side. Branches and leaves smacked my windshield violently. The day was rounding on noon and visibility was minimal between the rain and the fog that had risen from the blistering asphalt. Pine trees littered the area until the road broke out of the encroaching forest and ran along the ocean. Oretown was a small coastal town. The population was so slight, in fact, that it wouldn’t have surprised me to find it didn’t register on some maps. But it was my home and had been for the past five years.
After turning off the main highway, I drove on a narrow road, barely wide enough for one vehicle in some places. Sometimes I wondered who built the roads. It was like the city planners had thrown spaghetti at a map and decided to follow the pattern of loops and curves, resulting in roads that were dangerous to the extreme. During a two-mile stretch you could easily find the road doing a one-eighty, and then another. One second you’re going east, the next you’re going west, and suddenly you’re facing east again. Anyone who wasn’t used to the abrupt curves had a high chance of having an accident. So I drove slowly and with caution.
On the ride home, I called Jenna to see if she and her daughter Jules would stay at my house while I was gone. Of course she said yes. They both loved the beach house. Plus, it was perfect timing: fall break. I had been pleased when I first moved here to be so close to where she lived in Portland.
Jenna had recently dumped her loser boyfriend after being in an emotionally abusive relationship, and I knew she needed the break. Jules’s father had died before she was born in the Iraqi war, which was why Jenna was constantly on the emotional cusp of break-up no matter who she was dating. No one could ever live up to her dead husband. And I could understand that; he was an exceptional man.
Unlike most people, I loved the rain and found it peaceful. During the calming ride, I continued to review the day’s events. There were angels—seriously, angels—in my lab. Benevolent beings, creatures of light, whatever else one would wish to call them. “The Light of Heaven” as Karen so eloquently put it. Either I was going crazy or I really had stumbled upon the supernatural. I should be skeptical. Right? That was my job: to ask questions and demand proof. The dark creature, the glowing bodies, the angel in my office telling me she was an empath. It was all too much, yet also exciting. A terrified excitement, but it made me giddy all the same.
When I finally pulled into my driveway, the rain had slowed to a mist, and the air had cooled. A hundred and fifty feet from my house, the ocean provided a hypnotic rhythm of waves. There wasn’t another house in sight. It was my small slice of paradise.
The sky was still ominous with rain, and my house looked eerily quiet and dark. I shut the car door and listened for my Shar Pei, Hercules. Normally he would be trying to claw through the front door to tackle me. Not today, though, not even a peep. Goose bumps rose on my skin, and I wanted to turn around and leave. Instead, I braved the foggy mist and approached the door. It was my house and nothing would scare me from it.
When I looked in the window, I saw Karen with Hercules curled up in a comfortable ball next to her. With his wrinkled skin, he looked more like a walrus than a dog when he slept. I sighed, relieved. Or was that Karen sending me those feelings? Who knew?
The door was locked. Did she lock it behind her? Or maybe she could magically appear and disappear too? Perhaps go through solid objects like a ghost? Or maybe she just locked the door behind her. What was the fun in logic, really? I fought with the lock and opened the door. Hercules awoke and slid across the wood floor, turning slightly to try to stop his impending crash with me. He might as well have been fighting gravity, because in the next second he almost knocked me over. He wagged his tail so vigorously that his body bent in and out of a kidney bean shape. I smiled at the greeting, one I always enjoyed. No man could ever love as unconditionally as a dog.
Karen rose from the couch and greeted me.
“You know,” I told her, “Hercules never lets anyone inside the house when I’m not here. Especially someone he doesn’t know.”
She smiled brightly.
“I’m sure it helps that I’m not a human. And don’t forget I’m an empath. It works on animals too.”
“Right.”
My voicemail machine on the kitchen counter blinked at me. Karen followed my stare, and her eyebrows knit together. “Gabriella, I don’t know if you want to listen to that.”
“Why? Who’s it from?” My interest was piqued. I rarely received calls on my home phone. I reserved it only for emergencies or for taking messages from men when I first began dating them. I preferred to let the machine answer so they couldn’t get upset that I wasn’t sitting by the phone, waiting on their beck and call.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice apologetic. “He didn’t sound too pleased, though.” There was strong resentment in her tone.
“He? Oh great,” I said and pressed the play button.
“You have one new message,” the mechanical female voice said. Then the message started. Immediately, I knew it was Adam, a guy I had broken things off with because we never saw each other. He lived an hour away but had rarely made time to see me and constantly made excuses. We had been friends for a few months, and after he saw me dealing with one screwed up “relationship” after another, he had asked me to give him a chance. I wasn’t sure at first because of the risk of losing our friendship. Friends were so rare that keeping one had become important to me. I told him exactly the things I needed from a relationship—one of them was time. In my book, it’s impossible to have a functional, loving relationship if you rarely saw the other person. Long distance is not my cup of tea, so to speak.
“You know.” His words were slurred. “You can’t just break up with me like that. Anyways, you’re fat.”
I raised my eyebrows at that statement and looked down at my small waistline. Right. I was a behemoth.
There were giggles from a girl in the background, and my face flushed. Karen grabbed my hand and held it.
“Yeah,” said a girl, whose voice I didn’t recognize, into the phone. “I saw your picture. You’re a fat, ugly cow.” There was a pause, and then Adam burped into the phone. This was so embarrassing. “Besides, it’s best we aren’t together anymore. I was cheating on you the whole time.”
“Real mature, idiot. Get drunk, call the ex,” I said scathingly.
Karen reached out and pressed the delete button for me. “You don’t need to hear the rest.”
“There’s more? Probably for the best,” I muttered. “Though I can’t say his words really bother me. One, he was drunk, and two, I know I’m not fat. He’s just angry I broke up with him. Some men have their pride.”
“No, you’re definitely not fat. How old is he, anyway?”
“Twenty-six. Divorced twice. I should have taken that as a sign, but we were sort of friends for a while. I always believed it was the women’s fault. Not the other way around.” I shrugged it off. I was old enough to learn not to waste my time on trivial things like scumbags.
“Well, he acts like he’s fourteen. Though age doesn’t really have the same meaning to me as it does to a mortal.” She grinned and dragged me to the couch. “Sit,” she ordered.
I obeyed.
“There are some things that need to be discussed.”
“I’ll say.”
“Well, it’s been more than a hundred years since I was ordered to guard a soul.” She said “soul” with benevolence. “You’re not like other humans. Some of the things I’ve witnessed make me wonder if you’re human at all.”
“Not human?” I scoffed.
Karen deeply sighed. “It’s not a bad thing, but we do need to get this sorted out. We need to know what we’re dealing with. Your ride won’t be here to pick you up for another”—she looked down at her watch—“forty-five minutes. I’m going to summon the Elders.”
“The Elders?” I stuttered. They sounded important. “Maybe I should change?” I looked down at my dress suit, which was wrinkled after the incident in my office.
“You think the Elders are into fashion?” Her lips twitched up. “Trust me when I say you look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks heated.
Karen moved to the floor, sat cross-legged, and closed her eyes. Her head snapped back, looking towards the ceiling. Her skin began to glow a luminous gold. Her mouth and eyes opened, light flooding from them like spotlights. Her hair turned gold, and when she looked at me again, her eyes glittered like blue sapphires.
Five angels appeared before me. They popped into existence as if I had flipped a switch. They were a vision, with long, white flowing robes and fluorescent eyes all boring into mine. Each of them was unique in appearance, but all had the same look of authoritative power. The spectacle made me want to kneel before them, though I resisted the urge.
“Darkness Illuminator,” they all said fervently at me.