Grounded! More Confessions of an Angel in Training (9781310362958) Page 12

  Just as the last few stragglers make their way to their seats, I hear a voice speaking to my neighbor. “Would you mind trading? I have an aisle seat and I’m travelling with this young lady.”

  The businessman looks at me and nods okay to Annex.

  No! “Grace.” He grins. “I’m glad to see you made it back.”

  I look toward the front, hoping Victor has seen what’s going on. Annex wasn’t at the gate. I’m sure he didn’t realize Annex was on this plane. But the flight attendant has pulled the curtain, cutting me off from my companions.

  As he latches his seat belt, I tell him, “I know about you. I didn’t at first, but I do now, so you can just stop with the masquerade.”

  He regards me with a fake pout. “Did you like the birdcage?”

  What? This guy—this Locust—gave me the birdcage instead of Victor? How could I be so stupid? Victor told me it didn’t come from him, but I thought he was teasing.

  What did that note say? The one that came with the cage. Think, think. Something about admiring me like I admired the cage. The plane rushes down the runway, I’m pressed against the seat as we take off and I refuse to look at Annex, refuse to acknowledge him. After we level out, the pilot gets on a speaker and talks in a monotone about weather and conditions and—ohmygod—flying time. I have to sit next to him for five and a half hours. Isn’t there a power that could fix this?

  Annex leans over and whispers, “Did you like it? You must have. You were admiring it.”

  I don’t want to talk to him, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “How did you know I looked at that cage?” I blurt.

  “Ah, that got your attention.” He smooths his hands along the tops of his thighs. “This will be such an interesting flight. How did I know? I was in Nostalgia the day you looked at it.”

  How could that be? It was just Victor and I. And why does The Big Guy allow rebels into Paradise?

  “I wasn’t supposed to be there—it’s a store for humans, you know? When you walked in, I assumed you were human and shrunk myself to avoid being caught. Then I was fascinated that you were an AIT, breaking the rules just like me. I knew you were a sympatico spirit.”

  “I’m nothing like you.” Everything about him is wrong, wrong, wrong.

  “I think you are, perhaps more than you realize. At any rate, I asked around to see if anyone knew who you were, and then I heard about the Bloopers episode. Yes, Grace, you’re quite notorious.”

  Damn that show, anyway.

  “It took a while, but I finally managed to find someone who’d recorded it, and he was only too eager to share a copy.”

  “Who?”

  “A fan of yours. I believe his name is Justice.” He grins. “Two fans who admire Grace Lightbourne.”

  “You tricked him?”

  “You could say that or you could say I’m a fan. Your choice.”

  Justice didn’t understand what he was doing; he’s completely naïve. Even I didn’t realize Annex was an Angel the first time I met him. Or the second. Or third.

  “At any rate, it was very enlightening. You’re an exception. And exceptional. They’ve only done that with a handful of trainees.”

  What? “Do you mean Bloopers with an AIT?”

  “No, I mean skipping L’Academie. I mean training on Earth. Don’t tell me you thought you were the only one? With all the eons of Angels who came before you? Tut-tut…you need to keep that ego in check, Grace.”

  Heat rushes to my face. I did think was I special. Do I know anyone who skipped? I’d love to talk to them.

  Annex lays his hand on my wrist and whispers, “Even I skipped my last year of school.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, not three years, but one. See, I told you we were alike.”

  I can’t believe I’m like him. I don’t want to be. The revelation that he skipped school has me questioning my choices. I feel trapped, claustrophobic. I want to claw at the window or the overhead light, run into first class or find a parachute.

  There’s only one more question I need to have answered. “Why Izzy?”

  “This was never about Izzy. Not directly, anyway. I followed you to The Big Apple.”

  “The Big Apple?”

  “The nickname for New York. So appropriate, don’t you think, considering all that can tempt there?”

  So it was never about Izzy or the music business. Is he even in the business? “Why me?”

  Annex pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression suddenly seems frustrated. “How do you feel about The Hierarchy?”

  Whoa! Talk about a loaded question! I squirm in my seat, really wishing I could get away. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and his eyes are less than a foot away from mine. I lock onto them. “To be candid,” I say, “I think it’s pointless.”

  He smiles. “I knew we were alike. That’s what the Locusts are. A group of Angels who think The Hierarchy is a waste and that it should be wasted.”

  Does he mean destroyed? Because I’m pretty sure that would fall outside The Rules and The Angelic Code of Conduct and anything remotely Divine. Still, I don’t like The Hierarchy, and Annex is right—that’s one way we are alike.

  “I’m not very political,” I tell him. “I only want to get my wings. I only want to feel as valuable to Heaven and Earth as the other classes of Angels. That’s all.” I look out the window as we cruise over cottony clouds. The view might be the same from a plane, but there’s absolutely none of the feeling of freedom that comes with flying.

  “Join us,” Annex whispers.

  I look at him but don’t respond. Mercy told me after my Bloopers incident that every Guardian prays and asks for Heaven’s help during their Mission. This seems like it might be the right time for that.

  Chapter 14

  The rest of that flight was pure torture. Not because of anything that Annex said or did. After I started praying he basically left me alone. Still, sitting next to him for five and a half hours was a living Hell. Unfortunately my tribulations haven’t ended.

  The spiky heels I’m wearing are from one of the levels of Dante’s Inferno. Victor stands next to me on the red carpet, lined up to move into the theater for the UMAs. I shiver in my nearly backless gown, it’s unseasonably cold. The organizers of the show have scattered space heaters here and there, so while my ankles are toasty, my shoulders are not. Victor notices my shiver and takes off his tux jacket, draping it over my shoulders. Izzy’s posed with Cherish in front of UMA wallpaper, paparazzi cameras strobe-flashing. He looks great, his favorite cowboy hat pulled low on his brow. Cherish, naturally, is as gorgeous as ever in a deep midnight-blue gown.

  Behind us, there’s a roar of motorcycles on the street. A herd of Harleys and choppers cruise by, engines revving, mounted by leather jacketed, headband-wearing men.

  I give Victor a questioning look.

  “It’s the Hell’s Angels,” he says.

  Ohgod. Ohgodohgodohgod. I knew this was coming. I breathe in deeply, and suddenly everything seems to slow. I can see the script writing on one of their jackets. I can hear one of the riders laugh when he thumbs at all of us standing outside the theater. I grip Victor’s arm, pulling him close, partially relieved that the moment has arrived. “I’m ready. We can take them.”

  “Ow, you’re strong.” Victor laughs at me, and pretends to pry my hand of this arm and weaves his fingers through my mine. “It’s a name. That’s all. Locusts aren’t quite so obvious.”

  Whew! I breathe out, as much as my Spanx will let me. But the tension doesn’t disappear, because if not now, when?

  }{

  About halfway through the show, two escorts wearing earbuds with cords trailing into their jackets appear at our seats to lead us backstage for Izzy’s performance. My nerves rachet up another notch or fifty. I dangle my hands from my wrists, wiggling and jiggling them to loosen up, pacing back and forth. The show cuts to a commercial break, and we hurry to our marks on stage. There’s a countdown, and the emcee in
troduces Izzy and steps to the side.

  The haunting melody reverberates through the theater. The stillness of the audience is so heavy I can feel it as I sing the chorus, and it only grows heavier as the song progresses until Izzy sings the last lyrics:

  Where have you gone?

  Cherish.

  Applause washes over us, we bow and exit stage left, only to wait in the wings. The time has come to announce the category that Izzy has been nominated in—Best New Rock Artist. It’s surreal when they call his name as the winner—I knew it would happen, but couldn’t be sure until it did, and then it felt like a dream. Izzy strolls onstage, holds the G-clef statue overhead and pulls a list from his pocket to thank the band and me and Roger and Stevie and Annex and last, but not least, Cherish—the inspiration for the song. He bows at her, and she beams from the audience.

  We’re all whisked away again in an out-of-body blur for another round with photographers and a thirty-second interview with the media. More whisking, and we end up in a converted dressing room, greeted by Annex and Roger with champagne. I’m dizzy and watchful at the same time, waiting, waiting for Annex to make his move.

  Victor and Cherish join us as some of the immediate excitement begins to wind down. Then Annex pulls some papers from the inside pocket in his jacket. “Your contract.” He hands Izzy a shiny black fountain pen.

  Izzy smooths the papers on the table and holds the pen poised.

  “Don’t,” I say.

  Izzy stops, and it seems like everyone in the room stares at me: Victor, Roger, Cherish and Annex. Especially Annex. A slow, small smile creeps on to his face.

  “What do you mean, Grace?”

  “Don’t do it, Iz. I know you want this for yourself, but you can get it without that.” I point at the contract. “In fact, you already have it. Look at your award. And more importantly, look at the audience tonight. They loved your song.”

  Izzy moves closer to me. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned, but we talked about this. How important it is to catapult to the next level.”

  “Whee!” I make a motion with my arm to indicate an upward arc. “You already did that. Major catapult.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” I say softly.

  Izzy returns to the table and suddenly seems tranced out. He picks up the pen and flips to the back page of the contract. What is going on?

  I look at Annex, and he’s staring at Izzy’s hand intently. Dear Dad, he’s breaking the Free Will Rule! What now?

  Fight fire with fire, that’s what. Even if I get in trouble. Even if I lose my wings.

  I impose my will on Izzy, and his hand moves away from the contract. Annex’s eyes fly open, and he stares at Victor. He thinks he’s doing it. Then he looks to Cherish. In the meantime, I’m forcing Izzy to cap the pen and lay it on the table. I hate the way this feels, dirty and cruel, but it’s the only way I know to protect him.

  Finally Annex looks at me. “I told you that you were exceptional,” he says and increases his force on Izzy. I push back, our spirits are fighting over Izzy, who looks confused and so helpless, but I’m winning. I’m winning as Annex’s will weakens.

  Boom. It’s a silent thrust from Annex that makes me stagger backward, and I lose my hold. Izzy quickly uncaps the pen and—

  Victor Time Bends. Poor Izzy is frozen in a state of confusion. Victor calls out in language I’ve never heard before and a flaming sword materializes in his hand. Annex darts away. Victor and I chase after him, as he leads us through carpeted corridors until we skid to a stop on stage. Everyone in the audience is frozen. Rainz, who just won Best Rap Artist, is kissing his G-clef trophy, a modern statue that even Michelangelo would not have dreamed of carving. This is all being broadcast to millions. What are they thinking?

  Annex cowers behind Rainz, using him as a shield.

  “Traitor!” Victor yells.

  Annex pushes Rainz to the side, and he falls over unbalanced, exactly as a statue would. The Locust jumps from the stage and weaves through the audience, using it as protection. Victor unfurls his wings and soars through the air, but before he can land on Annex his wings emerge and they crash into each other midair.

  Victor gets in one quick swipe with his sword, and part of Annex’s left wing floats to the ground. Annex cries out and bats his right wing like crazy to bumblebee-fly to the stage. He lands behind me and grabs me hard, pulling him to his chest. As I struggle to get away, I realize he’s a lot stronger than he looks. “This is what I wanted anyway,” he sneers at Victor.

  Victor lands on the stage, circling Annex with the sword, while Annex keeps me between himself and Victor.

  “Fight him,” Victor says to me.

  Is he nuts? “I don’t have a sword,” I screech at Victor.

  “Use what you’ve got!”

  What I’ve got? A halo? That makes no sense.

  “Use what you’ve got!” he shrieks at me again.

  O-kaaay. Whatever you say. I light my halo from within, and Annex lets go of me to cover his eyes. Blinded, he stumbles, then runs for a side exit. Victor chases him and manages to clip a few feathers from Annex’s right wing before he lurches through the door and vanishes.

  “Are you okay?” Victor asks me. “Please say he didn’t hurt you.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, slipping into his arms with weak knees weak, adrenaline gone, and thankful we’re in one piece.

  }{

  Backstage, Izzy and Roger are still frozen. Cherish is missing, and Annex is gone too. Everything is a mess. The audience was frozen in front of millions. They saw the angel battle. Saw my halo. It must be the biggest screw-up in the history of Guardians. I’ll probably be added to the next edition of the Wilhelm’s book in the chapter on Angel failures. New AITs will do reports on what not to do to be a Guardian.

  I hold a hand over my mouth, mortified by all of it, and then, strangely, I feel myself smile. Because I protected Izzy—come hell or high water. I was his Guardian. I take my hand away and start to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Victor asks.

  I wave my hand in front of my face, unable to stop laughing.

  “I think she’s gone loco,” Aisha says, stepping through the doorway.

  Aisha? What is she doing here?

  A few more gasps tumble out, hysteria past. I walk into her outstretched arms and embrace her. “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “I flew as soon as the broadcast went out. No satellite signals from the show. I figured with you here it wasn’t a coincidence.”

  “You mean, nobody saw the Time Bend or the battle?” Please, please let this be true.

  Her braids clack. “Looks like you asked Heaven for help, and they sent some.”

  Hallelujah! Maybe I can bring this Mission to a successful end after all.

  }{

  Aisha helps us to straighten up a few things from the battle—namely, we get Rainz standing back up and re-positioned. I don’t know how we’ll deal with the fact that Annex and Cherish have both disappeared. “What will we tell Izzy? He’s going to have major dissonance.”

  A look flies between Victor and Aisha. “I’ll handle it,” she says. “I always was a better planter than you.”

  Victor ends the Time Bend, and I’m aware of Aisha transmitting a memory to Izzy, like when she showed me Cherish’s and Victor’s history on my last Mission. The only difference is that this memory is a false one.

  Izzy tears up the contract, letting the pieces flutter to the ground. Now he’s grounded—mindful of what a great career could be.

  Chapter 15

  As soon as we reach baggage claim at LaGuardia, my phone plays a little Hallelujah chorus. Only two people have that tone—The Big Guy himself, and Archangel Michael. I consider not answering it, even if I’m only pretending that’s an option.

  “Grace.”

  It’s Michael. I watch luggage go round and round on the carousel, thinking this can’t be good news. “Hi.”

  “I’m ver
y pleased with the completion of your Mission. Please wrap up any loose ends and return to home base. See you soon.” End call.

  Holy Moly! He’s pleased. And is it just me, or is he getting to the point much quicker?

  Victor catches my eye and raises an eyebrow.

  “It was Michael. I’m going home,” I say wistfully.

  He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. Don’t let go, Victor. Keep me with you.

  Outside, Izzy is already in the limo. I ease into the seat across from him, and Victor follows me, lacing his fingers through mine.

  Izzy leans forward and pats my knee. “I can’t thank you enough. For pressuring me to play ‘Cherish,’ for stopping me from making mistakes, for singing like an angel. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  This is so hard. “I have some bad news,” I tell Izzy, and then explain about the phone call to bring me home.

  “I’ve lost Cherish and now you? Tell me you’re not serious. I just got you back. ”

  “I’m sorry, Iz. Truly. It can’t be helped.”

  “But you’ll be back soon, yes?”

  “I…doubt it.” Kicking your Assignment out of the nest is the hardest part of any Mission. I hate leaving him in the lurch, and—wait a minute! “I could recommend my replacement to you. I can’t guarantee she’d take it, because she’s still in high school and lives in Florida, but her name is Tara Murphy.”

  Izzy pinches his lip between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. “Is she as good as you?”

  “Better.”

  “Alright, then. Let’s ring her up.”

  As I pull out my cell, Victor leans in and whispers in my ear, “That was angelic.” It makes me smile to myself.

  Later, after a lot of back-and-forth calls with Tara and the Murphys, during which they agree to bring my former Assignment to New York for an audition, Izzy drops me at Aisha’s. Victor helps me out of the limo and gets my bag from the trunk. I can’t believe I have to go home already. I want to stay and fly around with Victor. In my fantasy, he would show me all the parts of the city I haven’t seen, and I would break the Code of Conduct yet again by kissing him for hours.