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FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS, I hide myself away from everyone and everything. I hide from Ben, Dad, Mom—especially my mom. I checked the LightTab once, then I tossed it across the room and promised not to torture myself with it again. Everyone's talking about the girl who was almost an Archangel. Apparently, my story is unprecedented. I'm an unprecedented failure.
I know I can't hide forever, though. Ben still has another mission to complete before I can set him free. Knowing this, I drag myself out of bed on day three and warp directly to Ben's dorm. I knock on his door and brace myself for what will undoubtedly be a difficult conversation. He's going to have questions. My plan is to deflect those questions and insist on focusing on the mission.
When Ben answers the door, his face is concerned, but smiling. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, his dimples are deadly, and his brown curls are as messy as ever. He is cute, but now that I've had two days of reflection, I wonder if I was wrong for choosing Ben and Sophie over years of hard work and dedication.
“Hey... finally!” Ben exclaims. “I've been trying to contact you for the last two days. Didn't you get my messages?”
The tables have certainly turned. Ben used to ignore my messages, and now I'm ignoring his. “Sorry. My LightTab was off.”
“Really?” Ben chuckles at my reply. “I had mine on and you had yours off? It's like we've switched places or something.”
“Yeah. I know.”
One more Archangel. If I'd had one more Archangel on my side during the Council meeting, my miracle would have been approved, and I wouldn't have lost everything. For the last two days, I've been torturing myself with that thought. If I'd had Sandalphon or Haniel instead of Raguel or Ariel, it might have ended differently. How is that fair?
“You seem like you're lost in thought,” Ben observes.
“Well... I've had a lot to think about.”
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Ben asks. “I've read the news. I know what happened. You risked everything because of me. You—”
I cut him off with a stern, “I don't want to talk about it,” and warp us to our next destination.
We end up at a Greyhound Station, and because I've done my research, I already know what we're getting into. Bowing my head at the lone man waiting for a bus, I tell Ben, “This is our charge, fifty-two-year-old Oscar Aguilar. He was just released from prison after eight years.”
Oscar is a big guy, with biceps to rival Archangel Michael. Every visible inch of his skin is covered in tattoos, everything from skulls to mermaids. His t-shirt is about two sizes too small for him, while his sweatpants are two sizes too big. All of his possessions have been squeezed into a single gym bag with a broken strap. The bag, tucked under one of his enormous arms, looks like it's been put in a headlock.
“What was his crime?” Ben asks.
“Armed robbery,” I reply. “And... once again, you can look up all this information yourself, you know.”
We follow Oscar onto his bus, where he claims a seat in the front. With his chin down and his arms crossed, he looks like he's meditating.
“So, our charge is an ex-con,” Ben states the obvious. “That's... kind of weird.”
“It's good to have a variety of charges. The work never gets stagnant.”
Ben crashes into the seat next to Oscar and says, “For people like you and Vineet, it would never get stagnant. You love your work.”
“I do, but... you'd be surprised by how many times I've been bored.” The bus starts moving, so I grab one of the poles and ride as a standing passenger. Even a spirit could get knocked down on a rocky bus ride.
Grinning up at me, Ben asks, “What was the most boring job you've ever had?”
“Probably the time I had to help a rich girl find her perfect wedding dress,” I reply. “That was annoying. She went to about fifty different stores before she found one she liked. No joke.”
“That was your mission? Dresses? Seriously?”
“Well, it was extremely important to her. Basically, my mission was to help her plan the perfect wedding. Let's just say... I won't be a wedding planner anytime in the near future.” After a short pause, I ask, “What was your most boring mission?”
I'm reluctant to ask because I'm afraid he'll say it was one of ours. There were a few times during the Rosalind mission when he was barely coherent.
“It was the first mission I ever did. My instructor and I were helping a guy sell his truck. We were with him for several days... then he got in a huge crash and there wasn't a truck to sell. We failed that mission. I didn't think it was fair.”
“That doesn't sound fair,” I agree.
“Can't a mission ever change?” Ben asks. “Like... what if you're trying to hook up a girl named Samantha with a guy named Bobby... but then halfway through the mission, Samantha decides she wants Johnny instead? Are you stuck with the Bobby mission?”
“Each case is unique. I honestly couldn't say unless I knew all the details.”
“In other words, you don't know the answer,” Ben says. “This spirit guide stuff is complicated, I'll tell you that.”
Oscar reaches his destination in about twenty minutes, and after a short walk, we end up at an attractive ranch house with palm trees in the front yard. With his bag tucked under his arm, Oscar shuffles up to the porch and rings the doorbell.
He's greeted by a tall, thirty-something man with a trimmed goatee and a scowl.
“We already talked about this, Oscar,” the man says. “Natalya doesn't want to see you.”
“What about Portia? Can I say hello to my granddaughter?” Oscar asks.
“No.”
The man with the goatee starts to close the door on our charge. Oscar sticks out a foot, halting the door before it slams.
“Natalya!” Oscar cries. “Natalya, come out and see your father!”
“Leave!” The man pushes his unwanted guest, so forcefully that Oscar almost stumbles off the porch. “Natalya doesn't want you in her life!”
“Is that your decision or hers?” Oscar fires back.
“It was a mutual decision.” The man closes the door partway and continues their conversation through a one-inch crack. “You put us through too much, Oscar. We've given you too many chances. The alcohol, the drugs, the gambling, the—”
“That was eight years ago, Tim. I've changed. Bring Natalya out here and I'll convince her I've changed.” Oscar's gaze snaps to a second story window, where a young woman is watching through a curtain. When he sees her, he yells, “Natalya!”
“Leave us alone, Oscar. I won't ask again,” threatens the man named Tim. “Do you really want to be accused of trespassing on your first day as a free man? I don't think so.”
Oscar steps off the porch and walks backward, never moving his eyes from the second story window. “You always were an asshole, Tim. I don't know what that girl sees in you. You do all the thinking for her, don't you?”
“Natalya agrees with me. You're toxic. I wish you the best, Oscar, I really do... but we don't need to get mixed up in your world again. We definitely don't want Portia mixed up in it.”
“Wish me the best... my ass you do,” Oscar grumbles. “I bet you're the reason she stopped coming to visit me all those years ago.”
“I was. And I'm not ashamed to admit it,” Tim says. “Unlike you, I have Natalya's best interests at heart... and if you come back again, I will call the cops.”
I see a gloss in our charge's eyes as he studies the window. Tears look out of place on a hulk of a man like Oscar.
“Natalya!” Oscar calls to her. “Natalya, I want to talk to you! Daddy misses you! Please!”
A few seconds later, his daughter gives him an answer.
Her head shakes, the curtain closes, and she backs away from the window. Her rejection couldn't be more obvious.
“Well, it looks like we have our mission,” I whisper to Ben, and as the front door slams, I finish, “And it looks like it'll be a tough one.”