Chapter Eleven

 

The other Guardians’ wings unfurl immediately. In the moonlight, their shimmer is iridescent. Warren said they could not protect me, but I think their reaction is involuntary.

“Keep away from her, Belphagor,” Warren shouts over the howling wind.

The shadow exhales its fiery breath as it passes through the chain link guardrail that follows the perimeter of the garden.

“You can’t save her, Warren.” Belphagor’s breath warms the chilly night air. His electric blue eyes gaze at each Guardian in turn. “None of you can.”

“Watch what you say, Nanette.” Betsy’s voice trembles behind me. The wind circles into a vortex and nearly swallows her words.

“She must choose for herself.” Belphagor turns to me. His bright blue eyes have no pupils. “Tell me, is this what you thought you’d get when you ended your earthly life?”

I shake my head. “I thought I’d find peace.”

The shadow sweeps closer, the heat radiating from him. When he speaks again, his voice is calm, seductive. “I can bring you peace.”

I’m mesmerized by his presence. “Peace…” My voice echoes.

Betsy throws her tiny angel form in front of me. “Nanette, think about you’re saying.” Her dark-lined eyes brim with tears. She throws the pink streak in her hair behind her ear. “You don’t want this. If you want peace, this isn’t the way to get it.”

Belphagor sways in the wind behind her.

I turn to Warren. “You said angelhood wasn’t the end. You said there was something else...sainthood.”

Warren rushes forward. “Yes, and it will bring you far more peace than the shadows ever could.”

“He lies!” Belphagor shouts. “I can offer you immediate relief from your pain. You’ll never have to remember what you did on Earth again.”

I’d love to forget certain things—the rejection from DePaul, the car accident that killed my best friend—but do I want to forget everything?

I face Warren again. “Tell me what I need to do to get to sainthood.”

The nostrils on Belphagor’s hooked nose flare. He begins to back away.

I look in Warren’s hazel eyes. “I don’t want to forget everything.”

The shadow hisses. “I’ll be back. Your Charge has already picked out the day she’ll die. It’s only a matter of time. Of course, I can return sooner…” His breath rattles. “...if you tire of trying to save a worthless soul.” Belphagor flies over the precipice, taking the howling wind with him.

Behind me, the others let out a collective sigh.

“I thought we were going to lose you like we did Kevin.” Betsy’s wobbly legs lower her shakily onto the bench.

“Look, I don’t want what Kevin got. I just need another way out. What do I have to do?”

Warren runs a hand through his mop of wavy hair. “You need to protect Vera.”

“So I’m stuck with her for the rest of her life or until she commits suicide? Which, according to Belphagor, is going to be sooner rather than later.”

“Some Guardians do stay with their Charges until the end.”

“And for others?”

“It’s different for every Guardian,” Matthew says. “You’re assigned to your Charge for as long as she needs you. In your case, you’re on suicide watch. That means you’re with her until the danger of suicide no longer exists—until she truly sees what a gift she’d be throwing away if she took her own life.”

“So my job is just to keep the shadows away until that happens?”

“Actually, it’s a little harder than that.” Matthew rubs his brow like he’s trying to erase a headache.

“How much harder?”

Warren continues the explanation. “You’re the one who needs to help Vera understand what a gift her life is.”

I laugh out loud. “You’re kidding.”

My comment is met with three somber faces.

“How am I supposed to do that? My life wasn’t much of a gift. I certainly don’t see how hers is. It’s way worse than mine.”

Betsy shifts uncomfortably on the wooden bench. “Nanette, that’s kind of the whole point. In our angelhood, we’re each asked to see how we took our lives for granted and then help another soul avoid the same mistakes we made. I OD’d the first time I tried crack. Now I’m trying to help Luis see that he doesn’t need the crap he’s been buying.”

I thought of the boy Betsy had guarded in the hallway earlier. Her wing had knocked a picture of a girl off his locker while his dealer was looking to make a sale.

“You’re using a girl, aren’t you?” I ask Betsy. “Today, in the hallway, you knocked that picture down on purpose, so he’d see her and think of her instead of the drugs.”

Betsy gives me a Cheshire grin. “I prayed for a way to distract Luis, and God sent Maria. She won’t spend a second on Luis if she thinks he’s using.”

“But how can I help Vera if I don’t have my wings yet? She can’t hear me, or see me. I can’t even flick a photo off a locker.”

“Your wings will grow in,” says Warren. “In the meantime, there are other ways. We can teach you.”

The eastern edge of the sky glows a faint pink now. It blurs up into the blue night sky, pushing the darkness back. Morning will come soon. What will the new day bring? The night has certainly been eventful.

The other Guardians watch me, waiting for me to say something next. It looks like the journey through angelhood is going to be a long road. Finally, I say, “So how do I start?”

 

It is agreed that Warren will give me lessons on Guardianship during English class since we know we’ll be spending that time together anyway. If necessary, the others can join us at night whenever they’re able to leave their Charges. Apparently, growing one’s wings is something best done with the help of others.

Before we leave the school roof, the Guardians advise me to learn as much as I can about Vera. If I’m going to help her see her life as a gift, I’m going to have to see it that way as well.

Learning about Vera turns out to be more difficult than expected. I am barely able to stay out of the darkness the next morning. Perhaps it’s seeing how lonely she is. Or maybe it’s the glimpse I catch of my sister in the school hallway, but I fall in and out of darkness the way I used to fall in and out of naps on the living room couch while Dad watched football on Sunday afternoons.

I’m startled when Warren nudges me. Vera is in English class, and I’m leaning against the bulletin board covered with posters explaining the different types of figurative language. I stand upright. Warren is at my side.

“How long have I been in English?”

“About two minutes.”

“The darkness...I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Warren says. “A lot of new Guardians slip into the darkness now and then. Besides, you had a busy night.” He winks.

I grimace and look around. Ms. Kitchin reads from a book of poetry. Vera’s thorny heart journal is tucked inside her textbook.

“So time for my first lesson, right?”

“First, tell me what you’ve learned about Vera so far.”

I sigh. Great, I’ve barely been out of the darkness this morning. I rub my forehead and try to remember the previous episodes. “She has no friends. She eats alone in the cafeteria at a table where only the biggest losers sit. She makes dinner for her dad each night, but the two of them never talk.” I shrug my shoulders. “I guess that’s it.” Warren waits for me to say more. “Well, she also thinks Emily Dickinson was suicidal.”

Warren sits on the edge of an empty desk behind Vera. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What? That she has Ms. Kitchin for an English teacher? You already knew that.”

“Noooo,” Warren says. “You told me last night about her locker.”

“The pink ribbons?”

Warren nods.

“Okay, so I guess she knows someone with breast cancer.” I stop and think again about what Vera had said. “Knew,” I correct myself. “Somebody she knew died of breast cancer.”

“And you said she and her father eat alone every night.”

“Oh God,” I slump back against the bulletin board again. “Her mom died of breast cancer. Is that why she’s suicidal?”

“Think about your own suicide. Was it one thing that brought you to the point of putting a bullet through your head?”

I shake my head. “No, it was many things.”

“You need to figure out what those other things are in Vera’s life, too.”

“How is that going to help?”

“The more you know about the evils Vera has seen as well as the joys she’s experienced, the better you’ll be able to nudge her in the direction of remembering the good.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to nudge her? People walk right through me. My wings haven’t even grown in yet, remember? I can’t do that cool knock-the-photo-off-the-locker trick that Betsy did. Besides, what good would that do? Here, Vera. Here’s a picture of your mom. Remember how good times were back when she was alive, before she got all sick with cancer and her hair fell out from the chemo and the doctors chopped her boobs off?” I clamp my mouth shut. Even I’m disturbed by how far I can go.

Warren ignores my grotesque imagery. “Your wings will come with time. You have to grow in grace first. Actually, believe it or not, your wings grew a little last night when you decided against going with Belphagor.”

“What’s up with that guy, anyway? He’s way spookier than the shadow girl who came here last week.”

“There are many shadows. All of them are souls who chose the darkness instead of the light. Basically, they’re fallen angels. Belphagor is one of the seven ‘princes of hell.’ His job is to go after Guardians who despair. The other shadow you saw here last week is Tamesis. We don’t know much about her, but we suspect she probably went to school here. She seems to like haunting the lonely souls of this building, like she’s got some vendetta against them.”

“What do I do to keep her from coming back?”

“Start seeing the good in the world. Then help Vera see it, too.”

I look around the classroom. Ms. Kitchin has passed out a worksheet full of questions. A couple students groan when she’s says they are due tomorrow. Ms. Kitchin frowns but says nothing.

“Right now, I’m seeing a classroom full of bored teenagers, and a teacher who wishes she were anywhere but here. What’s so good about that?”

“Come here,” Warren pulls me to the windows. “Look outside. Don’t you see anything wonderful out there?”

Outside a gentle wind rustles the leaves that have fallen to the ground. Two squirrels chase each other around a tree trunk. Heavy clouds linger overhead, obscuring the sun from view.

“Not really,” I reply. “It looks like a dull fall day to me.”

Warren sits on the edge of the heater. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Nanette. There’s always something wonderful out there, even when you can’t see it right away.”

I snort. “Right!” I shake my head at Warren. “Have you always been Mister Positive? Haven’t you ever felt like God’s abandoned you?”

Warren studied the dark clouds outside. “I used to, but then I realized I was wrong. You see those clouds out there?” He points outside, and I nod, like he’s asking the dumbest question ever.

“Tell me, Nanette, has the sun disappeared?”

“Yes,” I say.

“No, I mean, does it still exist? Sure, you can’t see it behind the clouds, but is it still there, on the other side of the clouds?”

“Of course.”

Warren nods. “God is like that. He’s still there, still warming the earth, still spreading his goodness. Sometimes we can’t see Him because all the clouds are in our way, but that doesn’t mean He isn’t there, shining away.”

He gives me a moment to ponder this, then adds, “Now tell me something you see out there that makes today worth living.”

I look at Warren. Part of me wants to remind him we’re dead, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking out the window with the most peaceful look on his face. I turn back to the scene outside the school. “The leaves,” I say. “Especially that tree over there, on the edge of the parking lot. The way half of the leaves are bright red while the others are pumpkin gold. That tree is worth seeing.”

Warren turns to me and smiles. “Good. What else?”

Through the window, I see a car parallel parking across the street from the school. The tires crush the leaves the homeowner had raked off the lawn.

“That pile of leaves. Some kid would probably love jumping into them.”

“Does it remind you of memories from your own life?”

Warren’s question is all I need to slip back into the darkness.