The crowd did not follow them home. About halfway, Joan fell in beside Scout, slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Scout met her eyes and together they slowed, allowing Hunter to catch up with Samuel, Barbie charging off ahead by herself. Scout was more than happy to let them go so long as she stayed behind with him.
“You have to be more careful,” she said, and dropped her eyes to the ground as they followed after the group. “You are not invincible.”
“Good, because I was starting to think that maybe I was.”
Her worried eyes met his again and then softened when he smiled, letting her know that he was joking. “You have not mastered the art of humor yet.”
“I do all right. You have to learn to understand the subtleties of the modern age. Sarcasm is kind of a big deal.”
She nodded. “There are a lot of concepts I am trying to familiarize myself with, but it is difficult. Maybe one day…” She shook her head, and Scout figured she would drop his hand any moment. Instead, she brought it to her lips and kissed the back of it. “I am sorry if I cause you pain with my confusion.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Scout didn’t really want her apology as much as he wanted this, her speaking to him, holding his hand, kissing it the way she had, was everything he wanted. Anything from her was everything to him.
Joan said, “I will not be here for you forever. When this fight is over I will return to my Father’s kingdom and you will have to protect yourself.”
The cool night grew darker. The two-story houses on either side of the street were set close together the way his home had been in the Lou, but so unlike the wide open neighborhood in Independents. Having grown accustomed to the freedom of the wide open Nebraskan prairie, he felt stifled in the cluster that refused him space to breath as he tried to make sense of the apocalypse that had stripped him of one girlfriend and promised to tear away Joan.
He said, “I will take whatever time is given, no matter how small. All we can do is enjoy what we have.”
She kissed the back of his hand again. This time it wasn’t enough. Hunter and Samuel had disappeared in the nighttime shadows up ahead. Alone with her on the dark street, Scout no longer cared about the cluster of houses. He did not care about anything but being with her in this moment. He stepped in front of her, taking both her hands, and stared into the depths of her eyes. He had loved her as Raven, he loved her now as Joan, but whatever her name, this was the girl he belonged too. She stared back and he saw his reflection in her for the first time.
Scout kissed her lips. It was all he wanted and it was everything.
The kiss lasted only a short moment, and then the hug filled him with a lifetime of memories no matter the time they had left together.
They walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence, Scout floating all the way with the euphoric sensations that lingered from the kiss, bubbling up his spirits. When they reached the walkway to the house they heard Hunter’s anguish from inside.
Hunter barked, “Where the fuck is it?”
Scout squeezed Joan’s hand and then broke the grip on a sprint to Hunter’s aid, bursting through the screen door and looking down at the tangle of sheet that had covered the deceased body of his best friend. Body gone as if it had vanished and the creature that Hunter’s soul now inhabited stood in livid rage, strange eyes searching the room as if his body had decided to play an indoor game of hide and seek.
“We’ll find it, Hunter,” Scout said.
Hunter shook his head, unwilling to be consoled.
“Somebody took it,” Barbie said.
“Well, no shit!” Hunter screamed and Barbie took a faltering step backwards from the vehemence in his tone.
“There’s no call for that,” Samuel said in the voice of the angel.
“Shut the fuck up! Why couldn’t you have protected my body until I got back?”
The Archangel in Samuel did not respond, his presence grew in the small space of the living room, but that did nothing to deter Hunter’s fury.
Hunter howled and paced and the others shrank against the walls except for the Archangel who stood in the center of the maelstrom until enough became too much. He pulled Hunter into his arms and released God’s light, silencing his torment.
Hunter’s unfamiliar features blurred in a mask of unspeakable sorrow and he buried his face into the Archangel’s glowing shoulder as light molded over them both and blinded all in the house, until Scout saw only white.
“We will find it,” Michael said over and over until there was no doubt in the room that Hunter’s soul would be reunited with his body. The light receded along with Scout’s blindness. Hunter now sat on the floor, subdued by God’s light and the Archangel’s promise.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said, his voice calm yet unfamiliar. Scout was a little shocked by the apology rather than the difference in the way his friend sounded.
Joan had not come into the house during this time and Scout already missed her by his side. He stepped to the screen door, but like Hunter’s body, she did not appear in the place she should be, and he pushed the door open with rising alarm. “Joan!”
“Over here, hero,” the deep gravelly voice of Patrick spoke, the voice of Death.
Scout stepped to the edge of the porch and saw the Horseman standing in the middle of the street under the pale moon, holding Joan’s arms behind her back. Her serene face turned up to Scout without fear from the creature that held her captive.
Scout pulled his pistol, lining his sights on his target. Maybe Patrick would vanish again. Maybe Patrick would focus his attention on him and free Joan. Scout pushed the maybe’s aside, releasing a breath and began to squeeze the trigger. The window shattered outward beside him as the Archangel shot from the house, tinkling glass falling in the yard at his swift passage. Scout’s focus tore apart as Michael landed paces from Death.
Michael said, “Release her now.”
Death slid a hand up and gripped the back of Joan’s neck. “As you wish.”
Joan stared at Scout. “I love you.”
There was a terrible snap and the light fled from her eyes. A white glow filled the pale hand of Death as Joan’s lifeless body slipped to the pavement.
Scout and the Archangel screamed at the same time, but Scout followed his with a barrage of bullets that passed through the dark smoke of Death’s disappearance.
Scout stumbled like he had drunk a stockpile of liquor, sick from overabundance, to the spot where Joan lay silent on the pavement. Her life was gone. Her body was nothing more than an empty shell that had held so much promise.
Scout fell beside her, unable to contain the tears, and then he searched for Michael as hope resurfaced.
“Bring her back, help her. Heal her!” He looked into the dark night for the Archangel through his blurred sight.
He did not know what the endgame was, if it had finally arrived, if Patrick planned to finish them all off, if he was safe or if the danger to all of them was now very real. He couldn’t explain why Joan had appeared to give up. She was a fighter. Always had been since he had first met her, since her days as a warrior girl in France. Why had she let Death take her so quickly?
Someone dropped down next to him and Scout pulled in a big shuddering breath, thankful that someone shared his concern for Joan and hoping that Michael would touch her with the Lord’s light and return her to him.
“Scout, give me your gun,” an unfamiliar voice said.
Scout recoiled from the stranger, brought up his pistol and pulled the trigger. Click.
The stranger gasped and when no shot rang out, the stranger slapped the gun aside. “Are you fucking stupid? It’s me, Hunter!”
Recognition broke through his stupor and Scout stood, swaying on his feet and staggered away from Joan. He vomited the contents of his stomach at the broken concrete curb. He finished up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. He walked back to Joan’s body and fell to his knees again. The angel was there with his hands on her head and chest, softly praying to God to heal her injuries. Scout placed his hands on her shoulder and stomach, willing whatever power he had inside to support the process. Light exuding from Michael once again blinded him.
Scout prayed for God to bring Joan back as the light spiraled in the darkness of his closed eyes. The spirals subsided after time and he felt Joan’s stomach rise with a breath. Scout opened his eyes with hope, and saw her eyes slowly open and look at him.
She said, “Scout?”
He gripped her hand and pulled it to his lips for a gentle kiss. He looked to the heavens and said his thanks.
“Where am I?” she asked. Her voice sounded thick, like it hadn’t been used in a long while.
Scout squeezed her fingers gently, interlocked in his own. “We’re still in Denver. Michael brought you back after Death…”
“Denver?” Joan pulled her hand out of Scout’s and struggled up to a sitting position. “Why the hell am I in Denver again?”
Scout sat back. “It’s okay, Joan. Death is gone. You’re back.”
Her face pinched in irritation and she shoved Scout away from her with a grunt. “Are you messing with me? Don’t try to shorten my name into something worse.” She looked around and caught sight of Michael and gasped at his angelic presence, and then she caught sight of Hunter and screamed. Joan jumped to her feet and stumbled back from the group of friends surrounding her. “Who the fuck are you people? What are you doing to me?”
The cogs in Scout’s head started to turn, making sense of the girl’s confusion. The Archangel at his side clarified everything for him.
Michael said, “This is no longer Joan. Death took her soul with him when he departed.”
Scout’s head swiveled back and forth from the Archangel to the girl, and settled on her. “Raven?”
“Well, it sure the hell ain’t Beyoncé. You better start telling me what’s going on before I beat the shit out of you for bringing me back to this stinking town. Where the hell is my Honda and all my stuff?”
Scout’s mouth flapped open several time like a fish out of water, but sound eluded him. Like the fish, Scout only croaked.
Raven’s eyes settled on the angel once more and her eyebrows lifted. “I remember seeing you coming out of that burning tree with Catherine and Molly, you had the wings but you looked like Hunter then, not Sam.”
The wings dropped away like molten gold until the angel was gone. “I hate being called Sam almost as much as you hate being called that other awful name of yours.”
Surprise from Samuel’s transformation slipped quickly from Raven’s face. Her hard condemning eyes penetrated him. “Whatever. Start making sense or I’m walking.”
Someone grabbed Scout by the arm, he turned to find Hunter’s new monstrous form behind him looking like he might go insane again at any moment.
Hunter said, “I don’t have time for this. I have to find my body. We have to go after Patrick.”
Scout nodded, all the while his own inner turmoil roiled in him like a sickly over-polluted ocean. Patrick also had Joan’s soul.
Scout looked back at Raven. “You’ve been gone for a while and none of this is going to make a lot of sense right now. It’s not a quick explanation. You are among friends—do not doubt that. If you want to know more, then you’re going to have to tag along until we figure out this shit for ourselves.”
Scout turned and left her in the street with the others.