The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian

  The knowledge has weight as it hits me. I gasp. “Someone saw them like that—shining light encircling their head. Someone saw their halos.”

  Waiting for me to absorb this information, Nana Kransky pauses before stating, “I see people like that—certain people—with light encircling their heads. What do you see?”

  My addled brain moves sluggishly, replaying her words once, then twice before I grasp their import. Nana knows! She sees things, like me. Although her admission changes things—there are others out there—I still can’t help but be cautious. Carefully neutral, I say, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Rather than dispute me, her sharp old eyes narrow thoughtfully as she elaborates, “You see, I have a gift. I perceive things differently than most people. Just by looking, I can tell if someone is good—if his or her soul is good. What do you see?”

  Before I can find a reason to stop myself, I say, “I see all people like that— not just Saints—with their goodness or evil surrounding their entire bodies.” The truth feels surprisingly good to admit—freeing.

  “I thought so.”

  “You knew?”

  “I knew there was something special about you, Alex. Something extraordinary.”

  “How?”

  “I do not have the ability to see evil but I can see those who are truly good—those who possess the Gifts of the Saints. Those with the gift have a glow around their head indicative of the strength of their gifts. And yours is the brightest I have ever encountered. Even brighter than Kate’s.”

  “Kate?”

  “The first time I saw Katie, I knew she had the gift. I also knew she was tortured and terrified. But we all have our gifts for a reason. I have mine so that I may identify others and help them to understand what they possess and use their talents. That’s what I did for Katie… and what I will do for you if you’ll let me.”

  Her words barely register. She’s known! And Kate’s known—all this time—but she hasn’t said a word. Why? All the feelings—the terror, being completely alone, the helplessness—lodge in my throat. Taking a shaky sip of tea, I concentrate on keeping my emotions from bubbling over. Not wanting to lose this chance for answers, I ask, “What is The Gift of the Saints, exactly?”

  Thoughtfully Nana Kransky picks up the book, explaining, “Saints are those gifted—blessed—with extraordinary power and goodness. They protect the world from evil with their abilities. But they’re not superheroes, they are mortal, and when they die their divine power is bestowed on another. Sometimes the recipient has no idea they are sainted until the gift manifests. Even then—some cannot make sense of it without help.”

  Ignoring her pointed look, I continue to probe for information. “Does evil work the same way?”

  Shaking her head back and forth, she explains, “Evil also goes from host to host. But unlike the power of the Saints which adapts to and enhances its recipient, evil exploits the weak. Once it manifests, it takes over, sucking the humanity from its host until there is nothing human left. You see, humans are created in God’s image, so evil seeks to destroy every trace of the Creator. Like a parasite, evil consumes its hosts until all that’s left are—”

  “Monsters.”

  She nods. “Also known as demons.”

  Not even the blanket, tucked tightly around me can keep out the chill at her words. “I see demons?”

  “And Saints. And from what you’ve told me, everything in between as well.”

  “Is there a way—you know—to get rid of it?”

  “Get rid of your gift?”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “But Alex, it is a great gift, an honor. I’ve never met anyone who possesses a gift as powerful as yours. I know it’s a lot to take in, child, but you don’t have to do this alone. Kate, Steven, and I are here for you.”

  Steven too! And I was worried about deceiving them.

  Anger—a delayed but justifiable reaction—burns though me. Most everyone in my life has had the answers I so desperately needed—everyone but me. “But I don’t want it! I didn’t ask for this. It was thrust on me. What kind of Creator would drop this on a helpless, unsuspecting, unprepared kid?”

  “Alex—”

  “No! I just want to live a normal life. I’m tired of running, of constantly looking for shadows and living in fear. It can’t do this—” I don’t wait for her answer. I run to my room—if I can even call it mine—and hurl myself onto the bed. How am I supposed to trust in a world where everyone is keeping secrets? Kate, Steven, Nana Kransky—even Gabriel knows more about me than I do. Only Derry has been truthful with me.

  Just thinking about Derry makes my heart ache with need. I pretend I’m back at the Children’s Home and Derry’s telling me about when his real family will come to get us. How much they’ll love me and how I’ll finally have a normal family.

  I wish we could return to that time and place. But for me, there’s no such thing as normal. And now, there’s no going back. Not ever.

  Later, there’s a quiet knock at my door followed by Kate’s soft request to come in. When I don’t answer, she cautiously enters. Her chocolate eyes regard me gravely as she sits on the edge of my bed. After a cursory glance in her direction, I turn away to stare at the wall, unwilling to broach the subject I wish with all my heart I could forget.

  Finally Kate speaks. “I’m sorry, Alex.” In the face of my silence she continues. “Maybe I should have said something right away. But I didn’t want to scare you—or make things worse. I remember what it was like for me—living on the streets and trying desperately to pretend I wasn’t crazy—and I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

  I feel Kate’s gentle touch, her hand smoothing my hair. “Maybe I was wrong,” she muses, “but I really was trying to make things easier for you.”

  Kate’s caress is comforting. Soothing. Despite my vow of silence, questions begin to percolate in my brain. “How long have you known?”

  “Since before I laid eyes on you.” She answers simply, holding nothing back. “I’d dreamt of The Children’s Center for about a week before I mentioned it to Steven. We made arrangements to visit the following day. We’d always planned to open our home and our hearts to a child.”

  In my mind are visions of cooing babies and dimpled toddlers in need of a better life. Although she doesn’t say so, I am certain this is what Kate envisioned. Not a problematic teenager. The knowledge grates at me, causing me to spew, “I’m hardly a child!”

  “True,” she agrees diplomatically and without a trace of remorse, “but you are the reason I was led to that place at that time. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect—so I was doing my best to keep an open mind—and listen...”

  The cryptic response causes me to roll over and really look at her for the first time in our conversation. “Listen for what?”

  Her eyes are huge and fluid with the emotions of her own burden—anguish, wonder, humility and finally acceptance surge—as she holds my gaze. The small smile on her lips tightens with her admission. “The best way I can describe it is like a choir of angels. Heavenly, transcendent music that calls to me. The source of the music is usually another person with the gift.

  “In this case, it was you, your spirit calling to mine, and the music was unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. I felt, before I even saw you, how exceptional and extraordinary you are. Then I saw you and recognized—because I remember mine so clearly—the torment, the terror of looking into the pits of hell and having no defense against it. The minute I laid eyes on you, I knew I wasn’t leaving that place without you.”

  Somberly considering this woman, who would be led by music to open her home to a surly teenager and whose personal demons flicker in her guileless eyes, I can’t be angry. Suddenly all I feel is spent, exhausted on a cellular level. “Thank you.”

  Finally, I comprehend her small, tight smile that comes from seeing and hearing—from knowing and feeling—too much and keeping it inside. Her transparen
cy is not without a cost, which makes it all the more precious.

  “You’re welcome, Alex. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “Later? I think I’ve reached my limit for now.”

  With a nod, Kate stands. “Whenever you’re ready… for you I’m an open book.”

  As she turns to go, I find myself compelled to ask, “What if I’m never ready?”

  Unconditional acceptance, the warmth of Kate’s understanding assails me. “‘Never’ is a long time, Alex.”

  *

  The next morning Steven calls me to the phone and I’m acutely aware of the sympathy in his eyes. Kate’s told him everything, of course. I don’t begrudge him her confidence but it doesn’t make it any easier to face him. Thankfully, he gives me some much needed privacy as I lift the receiver to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Alexia.” The anguished relief in Gabriel’s voice is unmistakable. Yet my heart hitches because part of me hoped it was—needed it to be—the one sane thing in my life, Derry. “You didn’t call me last night. Are you okay?”

  My answer, heavy with disappointment, comes out in a flat monotone. “Nana Kransky told me… you know… about the Gift of the Saints.”

  He sighs and, over the phone, I can’t tell if it’s out of concern or relief. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Maybe that’s not the best idea—”

  “I’ve been going crazy. I have to see you.”

  “Steven’s here. And Kate and her mom—”

  “Then meet me.”

  Any other time, I would thrill to the urgency in his voice—but not today. Today I just want to curl up in a ball and pretend stuff like Divine gifts and Seraphs don’t exist. “Gabriel—”

  “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Either you come to me, or I’m coming to you.”

  I can tell he means it. And this is not a conversation I want to have within earshot of the Fosters. “Fine,” I grumble, rolling my eyes as if he can see me. “I’ll come to you. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Do you know the little park around the corner off of Euclid?” For the first time, there’s hopefulness in his voice and it pierces through my own misery to tug at my heart.

  “Yes.”

  “Meet me there in fifteen minutes.”

  Still in my pajamas and slippers, I quickly calculate how soon I can be dressed. “Make it thirty.”

  “Okay.”

  “Fine.” I start to hang up the receiver when his rock-solid voice stops me.

  “But if you’re a minute late, I’m coming to you.”

  Even before I reach the park, I know exactly where Gabriel’s waiting. The spot where he stands is ablaze with white-hot fire. And I’m amazed that the snow around him is intact rather than melted or boiling. Reflexively I shield my eyes, squinting as I search for his face.

  He comes to me so fast that he’s a blur—a shooting star hurtling across the frozen earth. Looking every bit an avenging angel, he glowers at me before pulling me into his iron embrace. Crushed against his chest, I’m hyper aware that his body’s trembling—whether from anger or fear, though, I can’t be sure. His scent of evergreen and hardwood is so appealing that I burrow my nose into his sweater, breathing deep and slow. Relaxing.

  Still bristling with an excess of emotion, Gabriel bends his head to my ear and whispers, “Everything’s going to be okay.” He could just as easily be reassuring himself as me, but the promise causes me to stiffen. In my mind, there’s only one way to make things right.

  Flatly, I tell him, “I don’t want it.”

  He pulls back, gently, to look at me. The decrease in bodily contact causes me to shiver as he regards me with grave yet patient eyes. “I know it’s a lot to comprehend. Take some time to process.”

  My head shakes as desperation fuels my denial. “I don’t want to ‘take some time’. I’m not a Saint—I’m not even sure I’m a good person. How do I get rid of it?” I beg, “Please?”

  “But you are good,” he insists. “Goodness is a trait you possess, like intellect and compassion. You’ve got your gift because of who you are, and it’s been given for a reason—you’re meant to use it.”

  “So tell me what the reason is?”

  “Alex—”

  “Right—you can’t.” Suddenly, his embrace is suffocating. I push at his chest until he’s forced to step back and release me. “Just like you couldn’t tell me about your being an angel or that I have the freakin’ Gift of the Saints!”

  “Don’t—”

  “No, you ‘don’t’—I’m done!”

  As I turn to leave, Gabriel closes the distance between us. Gripping my shoulders from behind, he pleads, “Wait!”

  Keeping my back to him, I clamp my eyes shut, torn between my fury and the hold that he has on me. But in the end, I love him too much to walk away. Grudgingly, I let him turn me around so that I’m staring into his heavenly blue eyes. When he speaks, his words are as penetrating as his expression.

  “If I’d told you about your gift, you wouldn’t have learned about Kate or her mom. And you wouldn’t have confided in them. I have to let things happen the way they’re meant to occur. Other than my purpose, I can’t interfere in your life. You’re supposed to confide in Kate and Steven and Mrs. Kransky—they’re important to your future. And I won’t let you rely on me for answers. My time with you is finite.”

  “More secrets.” The anger dissipates leaving me as bereft as if he’s already gone.

  Gabriel’s fingers are warm, nearly burning, as he strokes my frigid cheek. “Even though I can’t give you all the answers, I always have your best interests at heart. The only reason I’m here is you.” Leaning in, he touches his lips lightly to my forehead before murmuring against my skin, “You’re freezing. Let me walk you home.”

  Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, Gabriel tucks me against his side, safe from the biting wind. As we walk, silent and close, I’m reminded of the first weeks of school, when he was just a boy and I was a girl with nothing to lose. Now I have the Fosters, Nana and Derry, Jonah, Becke, and a Seraph in the guise of devastating perfection.

  And a gift that—like it or not—I am destined to wield.

  As we approach the walk to the Fosters’ porch, the door opens and Nana Kransky, dressed for the cold down to her boots and heavy gloves, steps out to wait for us.

  Glancing at Gabriel, Nana Kransky’s eyes are alight with expectation and something else, something subtle I’ve trouble putting my finger on. “Alex,” she admonishes, her lined face puckering into a gentle smile, “Don’t you think it’s time you introduce me to your young man?”

  I open my mouth to protest Gabriel being my young man, and then snap it closed as I reluctantly admit to myself—boundaries notwithstanding—that’s exactly what he’s become. My cheeks start to heat despite the cold, and I can feel the blood rushing into them as I stammer, “Uh, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Kate’s, uh, mom, Mrs. Kransky.”

  Nana Kransky grasps his hand warmly. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Gabriel. I apologize for my rude behavior yesterday.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for—Alex comes first.”

  “That is something we agree on. You may call me Nana Kransky, or Judith, or Mrs. Kransky—whatever you wish. Alex seems to prefer ‘Ma’am’.” She gives me a playful wink that causes my cheeks to heat up.

  Eyes twinkling with amusement, Gabriel slides a reassuring hand into the small of my back. “The pleasure’s mine, Ma’am. Alex has told me much about you.”

  “And she has told me a little of you. You are from Los Angeles, yes?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Nana Kransky’s pupils expand slightly as she tips her head considering him. “There was someone I knew a long time ago. A man who came to my aid when I was unable to help myself. Of course, Mikhail had dark hair and eyes, but there was something in his demeanor, his presence… I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you remind me of him.”

&nbs
p; There’s not a shade of panic in Gabriel’s clear gaze as he submits to Nana Kransky’s scrutiny. “I’m happy someone helped you when you needed it. And I’m glad I remind you of him, Ma’am.”

  Satisfied, Nana Kransky nods. “I hope, children, especially now that the weather is colder, you will have the good sense to come inside instead of loitering out of doors. You are most welcome, Gabriel.” She turns to go, giving us our privacy. But over her shoulder she adds, “We expect to see much of you during the holidays, for Alex’s sake, of course.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  The spot on my back sings from Gabriel’s touch as Nana Kransky leaves. Still shaky from our encounter at the park and now flushed from embarrassment, I lead Gabriel into the kitchen and flop down on a stool at the counter feeling as weary as the previous afternoon.

  Chuckling, Gabriel sits on the stool next to me. “Are you all right, Alexia?”

  Shaking my head, I think I may never be “all right” again.

  CHAPTER 12

  Christmas morning. Kate and Steven’s living room is littered with scraps of brightly colored paper, a warzone of consumerism at its best and most extreme. The Fosters have gone completely overboard, buying me a new laptop with travel case, a new desk/media center for my room, an iPhone, iTunes gift cards, and certificates for at least a dozen other stores I’ve never been to. It’s too much, but objecting would hurt their feelings, so I do my best to swallow my shock and honestly thank them for their generosity.

  At The Children’s Center each kid got one gift, always brand new, age and gender appropriate but donated and never uniquely chosen for the recipient. Some years I’d get lucky, like with the pink MP3 player or the year I got a backpack full of junk food, other years all I had to show for the holiday was a doll or a green and purple polka dot purse. But even a polka dot purse was better than some of the presents from Christmases spent with foster families.

  Being with Steven, Kate, and Nana Kransky, this is the first year Christmas feels truly special and worthy of celebration. So although my presents are overwhelming to take in, they’ve been given in love, so I do my best to be gracious. And while the Fosters’ generosity moves me, it’s Nana Kransky’s gift that causes my eyes to sting with gratitude. She gives me a thin case containing a compact, digital camera. “So you can capture your memories and document your journey,” she says simply with a wise, all-knowing expression. “So you never forget the friends, family, and love waiting for you. Unconditionally.”