Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1) (18 page)

“Thank you, Kaitlyn. But I could never let you do that. You can’t change everything because of me. I already asked Amanda to fill in for me.”

“I’m hungee,” Benji said from the doorway where he stood with his hexagon blankie still up over his head, looking like an Arab sheikh.

“Get up in your chair,” Chloe said. “I’ll get you something to eat.” She opened the oven and a puff of dark smoke roiled out and smelled up the kitchen. She slammed it closed and flipped off the heat. “Well, that won't help anything. Hang on, Benji. I'll find you something a little less like charcoal. You want anything, Kaitlyn? I don’t have tofu or bean sprouts, but I’m sure we can find something that was never breathing.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I had a Clif bar in the cab.”

Chloe put a handful of goldfish crackers on the table in front of Benji, who was squirming in his booster chair, then she went to the cupboard to find something more. Kaitlyn sat at the table with him and acted out
Finding Nemo
with his crackers. She did a great Dory impersonation.

While Chloe fixed some boxed macaroni and cheese, the phone rang. She ignored it.

Dory, the little orange goldfish cracker said, “Keep swimming, keep swimming. Oh! What’s that sound? Benji, do you remember what that ringing tone means? I can't remember.”

“It’s a telephone!” Benji said in his happy, child voice.

Michelle yelled from the living room, “Don’t you hear the phone ringing?” After another three rings Michelle’s muffled voice answered it.

A half minute later, she came into the kitchen looking like she had when the car crash-landed.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe said.

“Nana’s friend is on the phone. She says Nana’s in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.”

CHAPTER
19

If one more thing went wrong, no way would Chloe be able to cope. She'd had her fill of catastrophes.

Nana’s friend, Gloria, had taken Nana to lunch. She tripped and fell on a carpet runner at the restaurant. The restaurant manager called the ambulance and EMTs were taking her to the hospital.

Chloe needed to figure out how to get a car. Her mom was too groggy after waking from a medicated sleep to be any good. Chloe made a few calls and, borrowing her mom’s identity and credit card, arranged for a rental company to deliver a Ford Focus to the house. Kaitlyn cheerfully agreed to watch Benji. The car arrived and her mom and Michelle got in and Chloe rushed them all to the hospital.

They endured the ER till midnight. A neon pink cast encased Nana’s wrist—the color picked out by Michelle—and twelve blue stitches ran in a line along her chin. By the time Nana was discharged, everyone was exhausted and cranky. Chloe could barely contain her own emotions. Almost forty hours had passed since she’d last slept. Nana’s face was bruised and scraped and she whimpered like Chloe had never heard, breaking her heart with each woeful mewl. She was relieved they’d gotten Nana a prescription for Vicodin. She just wished it hadn’t taken another thirty minutes at the Walgreens to get it filled.

Michelle fell asleep on the ride home and snored in the back seat with her head resting on Mom’s shoulder. Nana sat in the front seat pitifully moaning
Oh dear
every time she tried to lift her arm. The car rolled to a stop at the curb and everyone but Nana crawled out.

They all three helped Nana from the car and up the front walk, one person on each side and Chloe backing up the steps in front of Nana while hanging on to her dress’s wide belt to guide her forward. Once Nana was inside, Chloe parked the Focus in the garage off the back alley. When she got out, she grabbed Nana’s walker from the trunk. She pulled the rickety, loud garage door down and went through the gate that opened into the back yard.

“Hello, Chloe.”

She jumped and screeched. She held up the walker like a weapon toward the voice. The glaring light of the bare bulb on the side of the garage illuminated Horace.

“Don’t
do
that to me!” She threw the walker aside and ran to him and flung her arms around him before she even thought.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” When his arms pulled her in close and let her disappear into his embrace, the comfort of his touch eased so much of the recent strain. They stood still a long moment. Horace stroked her shoulder as she snuggled against him. Then she realized what she’d done.

“When did you get here?” Embarrassed that she’d taken the liberty to hug him so brashly, Chloe gave up the security and backed up, trying to act matter-of-factly. “What happened at the airport? They didn’t arrest you, did they?” She picked the walker back up and brushed off dirt that wasn’t there.

“They finally had to let me go. I took a later flight. I’ve been looking for you.”

“You missed a crazy day.”

“Crazier than yesterday?”

“Believe it or not, yes. Well, no. Well, sorta. It didn’t involve flying anywhere. Well, not without an airplane, or a Jeep anyway.”

“I went to your store. You didn’t work tonight?”

Their stilted conversation covered the awkwardness following Chloe’s unexpected reaction to seeing him again. She walked up the narrow sidewalk toward the back door trying to make it feel normal.

“I’ve been at the hospital.”

“Are you okay?” His genuine concern obliterated the floundering chitchat. She wanted to run back into his arms.

“Nana cracked her wrist bone. And cut her chin open. I had a car accident—that’s not how Nana broke her arm. She fell. Today’s just been really rough.”

“Do you need anything? Can I help?”

His kind words put a lump in her throat that made her wait a moment to talk without crying.

When she could, she answered, “Only if you can wave your magic wand and spin back time forty-eight hours.”

Horace chuckled. “I’m afraid I have nothing like that up my sleeve. When do you work next? I’ll provide escort. I can paint the house, too, and trim trees, fix that broken light—though that sounds rather shallow at this point.”

“Oh, and I got fired. That was a nice punctuation to my day.” She sat on the concrete steps up to the back door and rested her arms and head on Nana’s walker. “I won’t need any more escort.”

“Why were you released from your position?”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense. Nothing does. Everything is just falling apart. Maybe it won’t feel so bad in the morning, but right now, I can barely hold it together. Probably what I need more than anything is sleep. I haven’t slept since night before last. I can’t even think.”

She got up and fumbled with her keys. Horace stayed on the walk, lit by the street lamp at the side of the house, looking up at her again like that lost puppy hoping to be taken home. Crickets filled the silent gap while Chloe wondered if it was too forward to invite Horace in.

What the heck.
“Do you want to come in? You don’t really have a place to stay, do you?”

“I’m going to stay right here. If you need me, just call out.”

“You can’t stay here. I bet you’ve been up as long as I have. Do angels need sleep?”

“They don’t, but I do. Nephilim in human form need sleep as much as anyone. I’m tired, but I’ll stay here, if that’s okay. Just in case you need me.”

“Man, I hope I don’t. I mean I do. Just I hope not like that. If one more thing goes wrong, I’m going to melt into a puddle.”

“We certainly can’t have that now, can we?” He gave her his best smile. Which was tired and limp this time.

“My room is right up there.” Chloe pointed up and around the side of the house. “If you decide to come in, just call up to me. Mom won’t hear. She sleeps the sleep of the dead. I’ll leave the window open.”

***

Horatius awoke with a terrible feeling. At first he thought it might be because he had curled up on the small concrete steps at the back door to sleep. Or maybe it was because he’d chosen to forgo his usual evening libations. But as soon as he roused enough to come to his senses, he recognized the feeling of impending danger.

Celestials were battling. And they were battling very near and very violently. He didn’t dare tune in and listen without being in Sanctuary, so he could only go by his intuition. And by the sense of doom hanging around him like thick smoke.

He sat up and waited, rubbing the pain in his right hip where the step had left an imprint. He didn’t know what would happen. But he knew something would.

***

Light from the streetlamp filled her room with a dull orange glow. It sneaked past a tree and slipped in through her window, casting shadows with faces—creepy faces with eyeballs that followed her. The wind rustled the tree's leaves, and the faces shifted and looked like only shadows again. Then another breeze and they went back to scary.

Her heart thunked around inside her rib cage, trying to find a livable rhythm. Her forgotten dream must have left the terrified feeling. The panic didn’t make sense.

The ticking windup clock on her bedside table was frantic, faster. It wasn’t in its usual place, next to her phone. It was turned away. She reached out to move it so she could see the face.

She missed it. She reached for it a second time. It moved. She could have sworn.

She jerked her hand back beneath her covers. “Michelle? You awake?”

The clock lifted off her bedside table. It actually
floated
. It hovered between her footboard and dresser. It dropped on the hardwood floor and shattered, ringing and crashing as it broke into pieces that splattered all over.

Michelle rolled over and moaned. “What are you doing?” She sounded exasperated.

A pillar candle on Chloe’s dresser by the door burst into light, the flame igniting by itself. The flame sputtered and danced on the end of the wick. It skipped shadows across her cello propped in the corner next to her dresser. The scent of cinnamon drifted over.

Michelle said, “I’m trying to sleep here. Whatever you’re doing over there, stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m still over here.”

“Why’d you light that candle?” Her voice lost its usual annoyance.

“I didn’t,” Chloe whispered.

A thump made Chloe jump like she’d been poked with a sharp stick. Another thud, then another. Afraid to move, she glanced sideways. Books were falling out of her bookshelf. Or more like jumping.

On the other side of Michelle’s bed, the window dropped shut.

“Is it an earthquake?” Michelle said.

“Earthquakes don’t light candles.”

“Maybe we forgot we lit it.” Michelle sounded nothing like her normal self. Her voice quivered as much as Nana’s.

“It lit. All by itself. I
saw
it.”

“But candles don’t
do
that.”

Chloe shrunk deeper beneath her covers. Then she remembered what Horace had said.

“Think good thoughts!” Chloe blurted. “Think about holy things. Tell whatever is doing this to go away! That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“Whatever you can. Something about God.”

Michelle whimpered then squeaked, “God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food.” As she repeated it over and over, the books stopped jumping and the candle settled into a calm flame.

Michelle suspended her chanting and whispered, “How’d you know that would work?”

“Horace told me.”

“How would Horace know?” she said in such a hush Chloe could barely hear her.

“He’s half angel. His father is a demon who wants to…to…do bad things to us.” It was out so fast, she didn’t even realize she’d betrayed him until the room erupted into chaos.

The book shelves emptied. The flame stretched and seethed like it was alive. The window opened and shut like a giant mouth trying to bite them.

Michelle screamed and jumped into bed with Chloe. She dove under the covers and pulled her arms over her head.

“Horace!” Chloe yelled. “Where are you? Horace!”

When she screamed his name a third time, a purple light flared in the center of the ceiling. The glow expanded and swirled, taking on a more substantial form as it materialized.

Chloe wrapped her arms around Michelle, who started wailing beneath the covers. The purple being floated toward them, its terrible features growing more visible amidst the sparking energy.

“Where is Horatius?” it said, its voice spilling evil and hatred all over the room. “He is
mine
!”

The purple entity settled down over Chloe and hovered, enveloping her in its essence. Cold wrapped around her body, like a layer of frost under her clothes. The voice transferred inside her head. The words froze her thoughts to ice. Dread and fear and hopelessness sharpened like never before. She wanted to die. She needed to die.

Where is Horatius? I would have a look of my own.
The voice resonated through her marrow. She could feel it forcing its way into her soul.

Her vision dimmed.

“Relax,” the voice said. “I won’t hurt you. Let me in.”

Chloe couldn’t muster a clear prayer. She tried to send a plea but the cold force overwhelmed her. Her thoughts almost formed
help.
But not quite.

Then from deep within her subconscious, the music of Saint-Saëns bubbled up and broke through the floodgates of her mind. “The Swan” from her cello recital
filled her thoughts with beauty, pushing an opposing force against the occupation of the purple evil. She made herself hum out loud with the music in her head.

The ball of purple light shot away from her like a cork and landed against the wall on the far side of the room.

With a roar, it came tearing back across the ceiling and dove for Michelle, who still cowered beneath the covers, mumbling for her mother. The purple cloud of frigid energy tightened above Michelle.

Chloe flailed her arms against the being, but her balled fists flashed through it like she was beating the air. Then the cloud disappeared into Michelle as if sucked into a vacuum.

Michelle went still. She lifted her head from under the covers. Her eyes glowed purple as she scanned the room. She moaned a terrible, deep despairing howl.

“Michelle! Michelle,” Chloe yelled. “Resist it, fight back! Think of holy things! Tell it to get out of you!” She stumbled through a few hoarse notes of “The Swan.” “Da, da, da. Da da da, Daaaa-da-dum—” she croaked.

Michelle rose from the bed like a robot. Chloe yanked her sister’s arm to pull her back, but it was like pulling on a house.

“Stop it!” Chloe yelled. She tried to sing more.

Michelle’s head oscillated from side to side, surveying the room. While she scanned, she moved in her rigid walk to the window and lifted her dresser. She threw it like it was made of Styrofoam. But unlike foam, it crashed through the window frame and glass.