A Gift of Wings (40 page)

“We will start at midnight, when your fast begins,” her mentor replied. “You have until then to make whatever preparations you wish.”

Lucky turned to Aidan. “I’d like to see Josh again—and G-Ma. And I want to talk to Mo. I can’t just disappear on her. If anything happens….” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll take you to see them,” Aidan said, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around those of her left.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Hey, have you talked to Ben by any chance? Is he doing alright?”

“I called him a little earlier while you were with Malachi. I told him what happened at the Striking and that the Making is scheduled. He’s worried about the three-day wait—and about you. Same as the rest of us.”

Lucky’s eyes caught and held Aidan’s. The possibility that the Making might fail, that she might not survive, that Josh might never be okay, remained unspoken. He released her hand and raised his own to rest it against her cheek, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

Kev cleared his throat. “Not to intrude where I’m not wanted, but I think I should maybe go with you two.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Aidan said, his tone betraying both irritation and defensiveness.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Aidan,” Kev responded. “Lucky is a walking target right now. She needs all the protection she can get. Plus, you’re going to be around other people—and we don’t want them getting caught in any potential crossfire. I know you want to handle this alone, but now isn’t the time. Admit it; you need me.”

Aidan nodded, sighing. “Right. Point taken. We’ll both go with her.”

“I’m going to call Mo,” Lucky excused herself, as she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. “See when would be the best time to catch up with her.” Reaching across the table, she snagged another roll and a slice of cheese before leaving.

Zeke chuckled. “The food will still be here when you have made your phone call.”

“So you say. But what if you all ate everything while I was gone? Then where would I be?” Lucky said with a teasing smile.

Looking around the table at all of them—Zeke, Malachi, Aidan, and Kev—she felt a fullness in her chest, accompanied by a rush of tears to her eyes. She had known them for such a short time, but she felt close to each one of them. If anything did happen to her, and if she was somehow still capable of missing what she’d left behind, she’d miss them all as much as she would miss G-Ma or Josh or Mo.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She managed to force the words around the lump in her throat. Then she left the room before she started to cry.

CHAPTER 26

It was getting dark by the time Lucky, Aidan, and Kev met Mo at Salonica. The little Greek diner on the corner of 57th and Blackstone was a favorite, and Mo had suggested meeting there for a late dinner, since that would give Lucky plenty of time to check in on Josh and to visit G-Ma.

The stop at Aidan’s to see Josh had lasted less than an hour—and had gone pretty much as Lucky had expected it would. Her cousin was still sleeping in his cocoon of pulsing light, which, according to Sambethe, whom Aidan had contacted at Lucky’s request, was holding the toxin at bay as planned. While Aidan and Kev talked to Sambethe, Lucky talked to Josh, telling him again how sorry she was and explaining as best she could what they were doing—what
she
was doing—to try to help him. She didn’t know if he could hear anything she said, but she felt better for being able to tell him the truth, whether he could hear her or not.

Her visit with her grandmother had been more difficult. When Lucky first entered the room, she could see a Still One crouched by G-Ma’s chair, one clawed hand resting on her knee, while two more of the creatures waited in the room’s far corner. She acknowledged them with the tiniest tilt of her head. Although they simply stared back at her, their large eyes unblinking, she could sense their acceptance of her, both as G-Ma’s visitor and as someone who walked at least in part in their world.

It didn’t take Lucky long to figure out the reason so many of the creatures were present. G-Ma was less herself—something that often happened later in the day—seeming more confused than usual and quite anxious. She didn’t recognize Lucky and kept talking about how worried she was about her granddaughter and how she wished she’d come to visit her. Lucky’s attempts to reassure G-Ma that her granddaughter was, in fact, fine and standing right in front of her, didn’t seem to penetrate her consciousness. G-Ma just continued to ask for Lucky, insisting that she was in danger.

Lucky felt weighed down by guilt and fear and sorrow. It was bad enough having to lie to G-Ma and tell her she wasn’t in any danger and was perfectly alright, when Lucky herself was terrified about what lay ahead of her. Worse yet was being unable even to comfort her grandmother with the fact of her presence.

Lucky finally gave up on conversation and wandered over to her grandmother’s art table. The disturbing painting she had seen on her earlier visit was once again on its surface. G-Ma had done more work on the piece since she had last seen it. The black cloud on the right side of the picture seemed less amorphous, more defined, more anthropomorphic—those yellow spots were definitely eyes—and it seemed even more menacing that it had before. The smaller figures on the left of the sheet were still just sketches, but Lucky could make out what appeared to be faces and limbs. She frowned as she noticed that some of the indistinct figures looked almost as if they had wings. After examining the figures for a few moments, she shook her head. She couldn’t be sure; the sketch was still too incomplete. Maybe she was just seeing wings because she was beginning to expect to see them.

She wondered if she should take the painting and hide it away where G-Ma couldn’t look at it or work on it. There was no wonder she was feeling anxious and sensing danger if she was working on such a disturbing piece. Then again, maybe the painting was disturbing precisely because it gave her a way to release those feelings. Better for her to paint them out if she could. Lucky sighed as she turned away from the canvas, deciding it was best to leave it for now.

When Lucky leaned down to kiss G-Ma good-bye, her grandmother surprised her by grasping her hand.

“Lucky!” she said, smiling up at her as if she had only just arrived. “I’m so glad you came to see me. I’ve been worried about you.”

Lucky caught her grandmother in a warm embrace. “G-Ma, there’s no need to worry,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

“Well, then,” G-Ma patted her cheek as Lucky drew away from her. “That’s good.”

Now that G-Ma knew who she was, Lucky sat and talked with her for a long time. She told her about some of the changes in her life and about her new friends, especially Aidan, at least as much as she could without revealing the whole unbelievable truth.

It took her a while to get up the nerve to raise the topic she wanted most to talk about: her mother. She didn’t want to upset G-Ma, and she wasn’t quite sure how to ask the question. In the end, she blurted it out.

“Why did you tell me my mother died giving birth to me?”

Lucky held her breath as she waited for G-Ma’s response.

“Because she did, in a way. She was not—herself after your birth.”

“I found the letter she wrote to me.”

“I meant to give it to you someday, but somehow I never did. And then….” G-Ma’s voice trailed off, and her face grew anxious. “Where’s my Lucky?” she asked. “I’m so worried about her. I wish she’d come to see me. Why doesn’t she come to see me? She’s always been such a good girl.”

Lucky’s eyes filled with tears. Giving G-Ma a quick hug, she whispered, “I love you so much.” Then, leaving her grandmother to the care of the Still Ones, she exited into the hallway where Aidan and Kev awaited her.

***

As Kev maneuvered his old Jeep Cherokee into a parking place almost in front of the restaurant, Lucky pushed her memories of her visit with G-Ma to the back of her mind. She’d think about it later, when she wasn’t trying to concentrate on spending quality time with her best friend—
for perhaps the last time.
Pushing that thought away too, she began a wrestling match with the car door, from which she eventually emerged victorious, and slid out of the backseat into the drizzle that seemed to have continued unabated all day. After Kev ended her struggle to reclose the stubborn door with an effective push-and-kick combo that he’d clearly used before, she jogged toward the restaurant, ready to be out of the chilly dampness.

“You really need to get a new car, Kev,” she heard Aidan say as he and his brother fell in behind her.

“Why?” Kev responded. “That one still works.”

“Barely,” said Aidan, disgust evident in his voice.

“Gets me where I need to go,” Kev said. They had caught up to Lucky, and he gave her a wink as he added, “We can’t all drive designer sports cars.”

“You could do better than this,” Aidan answered.

“Maybe. But the Jeep suits me.”

“Because, like you, it’s battered and hard to handle?” Aidan asked with a grin.

Smiling, Kev pushed open the diner’s door and held it for Lucky to precede them. “There are days when that description seems generous.”

Mo was already sitting in a booth against the right wall, and she grinned and waved as they came through the door. She scooted over, and Lucky slid into the seat next to her, leaving the other for the brothers to share.

“Hi, I’m Mo.” Mo smiled across the table at Kev as he slid into the spot opposite her. “You must be Aidan’s brother. Kev, right?”

“That would be me,” Kev responded, smiling back at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mo.”

Introductions over, the four chatted about nothing in particular while they studied the menus. Only after the waitress had taken their orders—a Greek salad and fries for Mo, spanakopita and egg lemon soup for Lucky, and gyros for both Aidan and Kev—did Mo turn to her friend. “You said we needed to talk?”

On the drive to the restaurant, Lucky had informed Aidan and Kev that she intended to tell Mo everything—unbelievable as it all might sound to her. She had had enough of lying to her best friend, and she wasn’t going to spend what could be her last visit with Mo making up things to tell her about why they might never see each other again. The brothers had made a few token protests about how telling Mo might put her in some danger as well, but both had been sympathetic enough with Lucky’s wishes that neither had argued with much force.

Still, now that Mo was right in front of her, Lucky wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “You first,” she said. “What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

“Just last night, you mean?” Mo asked, her expression indicating that she recognized the question for the stalling tactic it was.

When Lucky nodded, trying to look innocent, her friend answered the question, telling her about her day—and the rare treat of lunch with her father—until their food arrived. As soon as the waitress had placed the last plate on the table, Mo commanded, “Okay, your turn. Spill!”

Lucky hesitated for the space of a breath or two before complying. “Remember when we were at the Med, and that man made my head hurt?”

Mo nodded and took a bite of her salad.

“Well, I have a better idea of what that was all about now.” And, while still managing to enjoy every bite of her delicious egg lemon soup and spanakopita, Lucky told Mo everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, excluding the private moments with Aidan, which were just that—private. Mo took in the whole story, occasionally looking to Aidan or Kev for confirmation. At Aidan’s nod or Kev’s “It’s true,” she would indicate that Lucky could continue.

When Lucky got to the part about the Striking, she found she was unable to relate that experience to her friend, or to talk about the danger she would face in the coming Making. Both Kev and Aidan noticed the difficulty she was having. Kev took up the tale where she had left off, while Aidan reached across the table to place his hand over hers. Lucky was grateful for Kev’s gesture but, for some reason, vaguely irritated by Aidan’s. Slipping her hand from beneath his, she stole one of the few remaining fries off his plate and shot him a mischievous grin before popping it into her mouth.

She noticed Kev glancing her way as he related the story of the Striking to Mo, his intelligent green eyes scanning her face, as if gauging her reaction to the tale. She could tell he was attempting to convey the information to her friend as accurately as possible while limiting the emotional impact that hearing her own story recounted would have on her. The care with which he chose his words revealed a subtle and understated attentiveness that she found somehow moving.

“The Making will be two and a half days from now,” Kev said, bringing the story to a close, “and as of midnight, Lucky will be fasting and working with Malachi to prepare for it. She wanted to make sure you knew everything before midnight tonight.” His eyes caught and held Lucky’s for a second or two after he finished speaking.

Lucky mouthed a silent “Thank you” to him before she turned to look at Mo.

“Wow, girlfriend,” Mo said. “I’d say your
life
is most definitely nuts, but at least you don’t have to worry that
you’re
going crazy anymore.”