Blown Away!: Even More Confessions of an Angel in Training Read online

  “Are they going on this Mission with you?”

  I wish. “No, but Michael’s giving an escort to help me navigate through the wilds.” I left out my next thoughts: of course after that, I’ll be alone. Well, not exactly alone. I’ll be with a bunch of Locusts.

  Quickly, because my escort will be here soon, I dress in camping attire. I take one more look at the hideous boots and sigh. Why me, Lord? Once they’re laced and tied, there’s nothing to do but wait. The backpack leans against my bed, filled with every imaginable thing I might need, except for what I really need. A shot of courage. A clear idea of what a spy does. Wings.

  There’s a knock at my door. It must be the escort Michael promised me. I glance down at my clothes one last time: baggy tee, sweatshirt tied around my waist, baseball cap, clunky hiking boots. I’ve pulled my wildly curly hair back with an elastic. At least the jeans fit good.

  “Are you ready to go?” Victor asks.

  Did we make plans and I forgot? Not a chance.

  I haven’t spent any time with Victor since he dropped off the totem pole gift, unless you count the day he lectured us about Noah, which, by the way, was the deciding factor in agreeing to this Mission. Sometimes it seems like he disappears and then pops back into my life only to complicate matters.

  Actually, it probably seems that way, because that’s exactly what happens.

  “Um…I’m sorry, but I’m kinda busy right now. I, uh, have…” I hesitate because I know my Mission is secret—or at least on the down low—and I don’t know how much I can say to Victor without jeopardizing what I’m supposed to do. Victor made it quite apparent at the awards ceremony that he was no fan of Annex when he sliced off part of one of his wings. I don’t think he’d be too pleased to know I’m walking into his camp.

  “I’m your escort, Grace.”

  He is? I glance down; he’s wearing an ugly pair of hiking boots that match mine.

  “Oh. Well in that case, yeah, let’s boogie.” Boogie? I flush at how dumb I sound.

  He chuckles and steps into the room, hefting the ginormous backpack for me. What a gentlemen! He’s going to carry that sucker for me.

  “Turn around and put your arms through the frame.” He places the pack onto my shoulders.

  So much for wishful thinking. As I step into the hall, I see he has his own to carry. Back in the room, Mercy is sitting on her bed, hugging her knees. She tips her head at Victor and arches one brow. “Be careful,” she says.

  I’m not sure if she means Victor or The Locusts. I lock eyes with her and say, “I will.”

  Victor and I walk out of the AIT dormitory into bright sunlight. I’m not talking, totally lost in thought about this Mission; he’s uncharacteristically quiet too. He leads me in exactly the opposite direction of The Wilds.

  “Hey! It’s that way,” I say, pointing south.

  “You don’t think we’re going to walk through the streets of Heaven with all this gear do you? That might set off some warning bells.”

  I hadn’t considered that, but yeah, it’d be strange walking by The Hall of Records or L’Academie with all the other Angels in their white robes and Victor and I in flannel shirts.

  “Right-o,” I say. What the heck is wrong with me? Boogie, and now Right-o?

  “There’s a portal up ahead. We can transfer to The Wilds.” He slips a pair of wrap-around sunglasses on, and grins at me. I was right—he looks good in them.

  “I’m prepared for take-off, Captain,” I tease. “Just say the word.”

  “I wish I was flying you somewhere. That’d be a lot better than what we’re about to do.” We wind our way through more Angel housing. The buildings where the Thrones live are nice. Very nice. But the Seraphim neighborhood is spectacular.

  Just one more way Guardians get the short end of the stick.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to call that home?” I ask, pointing to one of their houses.

  “We spend so much time on Earth. Why does it matter?”

  “Because…” He has a point; I don’t have a good answer.

  At the edge of Quadrant II, before we crossover into Quadrant I, there’s the Holy Spirit Memorial.

  “Is that the portal?” I ask.

  “Yep.” He steps up to a shallow, metal bowl about five feet in diameter. A ten-foot tall, singular flame dances from the base of it.

  I’d always liked Transference, but this time I hesitate. Whether it’s the symbolism of the fire—I sure hope we don’t actually walk into it—or Victor’s serious demeanor, I hang back. Is there still time to change my mind?

  Victor holds out his hand for me. I clasp it tightly. He pulls me through the flame.

  Chapter 9

  And just like that, we’re at the entrance to The Wilds.

  It occurs to me that just because I’ve done this portal thing a few times, I don’t completely understand how it works. I freeze. “How did you make sure we landed here?”

  Victor gives me a strange look, like I’ve lost my marbles. “Intention,” is all he says, then clasps my hand to pull me along. A sign is planted in the ground warning both Angels and humans from entering. It reads: Stop. Do not enter. Only those humans with a permit #P8008 or Angels with a permit #AM90 may proceed past this point.

  “Do we have a permit?” I ask.

  Victor holds up a plastic tag, looks both ways. “Follow me.”

  Confession: I probably would to the ends of the Earth, but this is a different matter altogether.

  My heart is fluttering; my feet won’t seem to move. What am I getting into?

  “Grace? You okay?”

  I take a deep breath, nod, then fall into step behind him. Within moments of stepping onto the dirt path, we’re both swallowed whole by The Wilds.

  The forest-jungle is quiet except for the hum of cicadas. At least I hope it’s cicadas and not giant-sized mosquitoes. We walk for a minute or two and land at a clearing with four Cherubim in camo with green-painted faces, holding spears.

  “Permit?” one stony-faced guard says.

  Victor nods and hands it over. They examine the plastic tag, turn it back over to Victor and wave us through.

  When we’re out of earshot, I say, “Wow, they weren’t kidding. I wonder what happens if you don’t have one.”

  “They probably just turn you back, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there aren’t other Cherubim stationed throughout the forest.”

  I look around thinking about how they would blend in with those clothes and that face paint. It gives me the creeps that we might be watched.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I was hoping you’d tell me the same thing.” I can’t see his eyes behind those sunglasses.

  He can’t be serious. “You’re the escort!”

  “That’s not what I mean. I know where we’ll camp tonight and I know where I’m supposed to drop you off. But I don’t have a clue about your final destination or why Michael is sending you on a Mission into The Wilds.”

  Hmmm…I wondered about that.

  “It seems risky even for an experienced Guardian. Care to explain?” His jaw is hard set, like he’s angry about this.

  “I’m not sure that I can…or that I’m supposed to.”

  He looks away, and we hike on and on and on.

  }{

  Victor uses a machete to hack through the gnarly brush blocking the path. The trek has become harder as we’ve moved deeper into The Wilds. His shirt is stuck to his back and I can see his muscles strain as he chops to clear our path.

  I’m bored.

  Thirsty.

  Sweaty.

  And, did I mention bored? Except for watching him work, his back muscles flexing. That part’s okay.

  Victor has hardly said a word since I refused to explain my Mission. And while our surroundings are impressive, everything started to look the same after the first hour of hiking. “Can we stop for a minute?”

  Victor looks over his shoulder at me, sweat on his brow. I’ve never
seen him look like this. When he changed the tire for me on my first Mission, he stayed fresh as a daisy. “A little bit further, then we’ll rest.”

  Sure. Whatever. I take a sip from my canteen, and the water isn’t cool anymore, but it’s wet. Dear Dad, I wish we’d stop. At least if he was talking to me, it’d make this trip more enjoyable. Where’s the guy who likes to have fun? The guy who likes to tease me? Maybe I can get him to show up.

  “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” I chant as I step behind him. Then I laugh, and start chanting again.

  Victor stops, puts his hands on his hips, and smiles. “I know that. What’s it from?”

  “You should. We were on Team Oz.”

  “Right. The Wizard of Oz. They’re chanting it and then the Cowardly Lion comes crashing into their path.”

  I laugh again. “Ruff.” Snort. I take my hair out of the elastic and shake my mane of curls. “Ruff. That’s me, the Cowardly Lion.”

  “So who does that make me?”

  “You’re probably the Scarecrow. Or maybe the Tin Man.”

  “I resent that. I have both a brain and a heart.” He takes my hand and moves it to his sweaty chest as if to prove this point.

  I look at my hand, then up into his eyes. It feels like we’re having a moment. So, naturally I blow it by saying, “Maybe you’re a flying monkey.”

  “Ha, ha, ha”—Victor’s laugh ends mid-ha as a beast crashes into our path, almost like we’d used our powers of manifesting. Except this isn’t a Cowardly Lion, or even the Wicked Witch. Instead, it’s a real, live, seven-hundred pound Grizzly.

  Chapter 10

  Victor sprouts wings and jumps into flight, hovering over our heads. The Grizzly roars, “Hungry.”

  Hungry? I don’t plan on being his lunch. I back away, one careful step at a time. He steps forward, one lumbering step at a time. He roars again, “Food!” I can feel his hot breath and panic flutters in my throat. Victor swoops down and tries to grab me but the bear’s giant paw bats at his wing.

  “Make yourself bigger!” he yells.

  I puff my chest and wave my arms over my head. The bear roars again, this time a complete sentence, “You look tasty.”

  “No, Grace. Use your size shifting.”

  I don’t know how I manage to focus with the prospect of being a bear canapé, but suddenly I’m towering over him. My head is barely beneath the treetops. Mr. Grizzly looks up, his eyes widen, he makes a sound something like eek, and then turns and goes charging away through the brush.

  Victor, who’s quite a bit smaller than me, flies by my head. “You did fantastic.”

  I return to normal size, pulling my wild hair back into the elastic. I’m not bored anymore. In fact, I’m a little miffed. Victor lands next to me and I narrow my eyes at him. “Why didn’t you fly me up with you?”

  Victor lowers his eyes. Guilty. “He surprised me. It was a reflex.”

  “Yeah. A reflex that left me as his next meal.”

  “I tried to come back for you. Besides, you handled it on your own. It’s not a big deal.”

  I huff. It’s a big deal to me. Victor has always saved my butt. Like last year when Annex was going to kidnap me, if Victor hadn’t stepped in, I’d be in the Locust camp. Hmm…funny how that’s where I’m headed anyway. Is that fate or irony? I think again about what just happened: I saved my own butt and that could be a good thing, because where I’m headed, Victor won’t be there to step in. As Mercy always says, everything happens for a reason. All the anger and tension I’d been feeling rushes away. “You’re right,” I say. “No big deal.”

  }{

  We trek for a while longer and then lunch on delicious beef jerky. Yeah, it’s chewy and dry—anything but delicious. The rest of the afternoon we hike without much conversation. The tension from earlier is gone, but still there’s not much to say. Every so often, Victor points something out to me—a deer, a rare forest flower, a plant with large thorns to avoid. Mostly, what we avoid is talking about my Mission, second only to avoiding any discussion of us. I can’t tell if he’s angry at me or Michael, I only know he’s irate. I don’t want to invite his wrath, but…

  I hope there’s a way to patch things up.

  As the sun sets, twilight blooms, and the forest darkens quickly. “Switch on.” Victor lights his halo as I light mine, projecting two overlapping circles of light on the path in front of us. Victor’s is tinged a pale blue; mine has a pink hue not noticeable in daylight. It reminds me of my Common Ground class in the first year of Angel School.

  “Did you ever study Venn Diagrams?” I ask him.

  “About a thousand times,” says Mr. Exaggeration.

  “So what do you suppose goes there?” I point at our lavender overlap.

  “In the purple part?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we’re both Guardians.”

  “Not yet.”

  “We will be.”

  We both go silent, and I wonder if that’s it. If that’s all Victor and I really have in common.

  “We both like the burgers at The Jukebox,” Victor says, breaking the silence.

  I laugh. “And The Burger Joint.”

  “We both like Izzy.”

  “He’s gotten so popular.”

  “And that little gift shop in Paradise.”

  “You mean Nostalgia? It’s so adorable.”

  Victor stops walking to face me, slipping his hands around my waist, pulling me close while leaning back a little to look me in the eye. “I was so happy to see you there.”

  He brushes a strand of hair that’s worked its way out of the elastic, off my face.

  I shiver when he touches me. It’s the first time today things have felt right between us. “We both like flying,” I say softly.

  “To the Statue of Liberty,” he says.

  There’s a lump in my throat. “Yes, that was quite a ride,” I manage somehow. I want him to kiss me, and I don’t, and I do.

  He does.

  Thank Heaven.

  }{

  After we pull ourselves apart, we finally trudge into a clearing next to a small creek. There’s a steady sound of rushing water. “This is where we’ll set up camp for the night.”

  “Thanks be to The King of the Forest. I thought we’d never stop. You’re like a slave driver.”

  “C’mon Grace. I’m not that bad, am I?”

  I don’t comment. What is there to say?

  Leaving our halos lit so that we can see what we’re doing, we set up my tent, which would have been near impossible if I’d been on my own, but wasn’t too bad with both of us working together. And then, Victor gets busy chopping wood. “Hey! What about your tent?”

  “I don’t have one,” he says.

  I ponder that for a bit, but the idea of sharing mine with him is pretty distracting. Better focus on something else. “I feel like I should be helping. What can I do?”

  Victor piles some of the branches near my tent. “You can help me get the fire going, but first I want to clean up.”

  Is he teasing me about the fire?

  “It’s up this way.” He starts hiking again. Dadblammit. “Leave your backpack. You won’t need it, but bring your canteen.” Well thank heaven for small miracles.

  The sound of rushing water grows louder as we follow the curves of the creek, until we come to a glade with a pool at the base of a small waterfall. It’s absolutely lovely here. The moonlight reflects off of crystal clear water. The edge of the glade is decorated with fragrant, periwinkle flowers that I’ve never seen anywhere in Heaven or on Earth. “Wow,” is all I say.

  Victor unbuttons his flannel shirt and takes it off. He is not doing that. Not…ooh he is. He pulls off his jeans, down to his skivvies.

  Look at him! No don’t.

  Where are Faith’s scales when I really need them?

  He dives into the pool, and emerges under the waterfall. Water rains down over his halo. The water is lit up, almost glowing, and Victor’s been turned in
to a beautiful, pale blue fountain. Holy Mother, Saints among us—why does he have to look like that? So perfect he could be one of Michelangelo’s statues. How am I supposed to concentrate on survival when he distracts me like this? He rubs his chest, likes he’s scrubbing away invisible dirt. Now, why’d he have to go and do that?

  “C’mon. It feels great,” he says.

  Tempting, but I think I’ll be a good Angel in Training and stay here on the bank.

  Victor sinks back into the pool, and swims toward shore. When he gets near, he stands and splashes me with water. “C’mon.”

  I should probably re-fill my canteen. “Okay, but turn around,” I say.

  After I take off my flannel shirt and jeans, Victor feels the need to comment. “A Vest of Refuge. Did Michael give that to you?”

  I nod, grateful for the gift.

  “That makes me feel a lot better. But you don’t need protection from me.”

  Oh-oh! That’s where he’s wrong. I dip a toe into the water. It’s cool but not too cold.

  “Are you coming in? Because I’m supposed to get you to that camp tomorrow.”

  “I am. I just need to fill my canteen.” I crouch at the edge of the pool and submerge it. Victor swims up and grabs me by the wrist and yanks me headfirst into the water.

  Sputtering, I emerge and splash him. “You…” I don’t want to admit how great the water feels. All the grime washed away. I keep splashing Victor, and he laughs while walking toward me, palms out as his shield. When he reaches me, he gently pulls me into an embrace, warm and cool at the same time. I shiver. He gently pulls the elastic from my hair and threads his fingers through my curls. “You’re a little knotted,” he says.

  Knotted? That’s not what I’d call it.

  He takes me by the hand and I feel an incredibly warm vibration where our palms meet. It’s sweet and dangerous at the same time. How long can we stay like this? I glance up at his handsome, strong jaw line and he smiles at me. “What? I can see the wheels turning.”