Earth Angel (Angels and Seers: Book One) by Stephanie Woods
Chapter 12
Shifting into the mansion is like stepping into another room. How did I ever not know how to do this? It’s going to take some effort to avoid constantly using this new power. I mean, where else can it take me? I want to explore. I want to teach everyone I know how to do it! But I must exercise self-control. All of the fun things that come with shifting have to wait until we defeat Jonathan. I hope we take care of him soon, because there are some seriously strong urges to shift through dimensions with abandon going on within me right now.
Not only am I psyched about my new power, I feel like a superhero. Looking at the blade in my hand, I must admit we are off to a good start. I grabbed it from the universe’s most dangerous angel all on my own. I’m a badass, and despite my pacifist stance, it is awesome. I am Buffy the Vampire Slayer!
“Thank God you’re safe!”
Sam is safely in the mansion and visibly relieved, rising up from where he was sitting on the stairs behind me. I turn toward him, so happy he is where he said he would be. I didn’t tell him, but I was worried he would be captured as he was in mid-shift, or he would leave me behind in the misguided belief it was for my own good.
To my utter astonishment, he rushes over to me and grabs me in a tight embrace.
Whoa! What is this? I knew he liked me well enough, but we’ve only known each other three days. That’s pretty fast to get so obviously attached to someone. Then again, they’ve been an eventful and emotional three days. I guess it’s true what they say about people who share foxholes together forming strong bonds quickly. I awkwardly return his hug, totally unprepared for his show of emotion toward me. The awkwardness is compounded when I have to put my arms around his waist under his one deployed wing and position the blade I’m still holding away from him so it doesn’t nick him, something that is harder than it sounds when you have to do it all in one fluid motion.
These blades are so dangerous to angels, even a tiny scratch with one would put him out of commission for months and leave a permanent scar. Not many things will scar an angel, since their healing abilities are so amazing, but this is one of those things; I remember the scar on Jonathan’s cheek. Did another angel put it there while trying to protect their own planet, or did he encounter some previously unknown race with a weapon capable of doing similar damage to the starstone blade?
There’s barely time to get myself into a good position to hug him back, though, as he pushes me away almost as quickly as he grabbed me. Then, he puts both hands on my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down several times over with a keenly apprising eye.
He is checking for cuts and bruises, maybe signs of blood.
Seeing none, he gasps out loud. “You are unharmed!”
I smile proudly, because he makes it sound like a genuine miracle. Surprisingly, pleasing him feels pretty good.
“Well, of course I am! I told you I could do it.” I lightly punch him in the ribs under his bandaged wing.
He gapes at me, agog. “You mean you actually got the blade?!”
“You sound like you didn’t think it could be done.” I put on a false “hurt feelings” tone, teasing him a little.
“It seemed unlikely,” he says, logically. “Jonathan was never going to let go of that blade. I was just sitting here, waiting for you to come back, thinking of alternate ways we could stay ahead of him without it. I never expected you to get it. And now here you are, with the blade in your hands. How did you do it?”
“Well…” I triumphantly hold up the blade, giving him my best smug smirk and tell him the story.
Sam’s eyes grow wide, and he holds out his hands toward the blade as if in a trance. Softly, he wraps both hands around the hilt and takes it from me. I let it go easily. It isn’t my weapon, after all, and Sam needs to retrieve his blood off of it before we stash it somewhere Jonathan will never find it.
He holds the glimmering black edge of the blade to his arm, unaccustomedly exposed by the green short-sleeved t-shirt I put on him yesterday, when I’d finally insisted on washing his bloody, dirty tunic and pants. He’s got a pair of Harry’s old jeans on, too, and they look incredibly attractive on him.
The shimmery drops of blood along the blade’s edge, which were somehow still wet and glistening after three days out in the open, lift up toward Sam, then quickly disappear through his skin, back inside him where they belong. No trace of them remain on the blade. It is entirely clean, which means it can no longer be used as a weapon against him.
Without a word, I reach into my pocket and hand him the paper towel with the rest of his blood on it. He performs the same trick with it, then hands the perfectly white and remarkably dry tissue back to me. He is once again whole, and there is nothing out there that can act as a homing beacon to lead the bad guys to him.
I let out a long sigh of relief I didn’t know I’d been holding onto, truly relaxed for the first time in days.
“How long will this buy us?” I ask, hoping he’ll say weeks or even years.
“This should keep Jonathan away from us indefinitely. He no longer has a way to track me with any effectiveness. The only way he will know if I’m near is if I’m within his immediate vicinity. Then, he’ll be able to sense my energy signature, as all angels can with any sentient being. I’ll wait to raise my signature back to normal until we’re in Vermont, though, just to be safe.”
“How near do you need to be to sense someone’s energy signature?”
“It’s not exact. Some of us are more sensitive to energies than others. Around five or ten miles is usually reasonable, though he could possibly sense me up to 20 miles away or so if he is particularly blessed in that regard. Or if one of his soldiers is.”
“Well, then, we just have to stay out of his way.”
“That’s easier said than done. Jonathan will have spies everywhere. If he can’t find me himself, he will have others who will report sightings of me to him. We don’t know which angels can be trusted anymore, as Luther taught us, so we have to be careful. We might not even know we’re being watched. Any report of us will bring Jonathan right to our door. We even have to view other seers with caution until we know them well, because Jonathan may already be bringing them into this war. After all, there’s a precedent. You’re a seer, and you’re in it. And since we plan on recruiting seers, why shouldn’t he do the same?”
“How comforting,” I say sarcastically.
Great. We might not even be able to trust other seers. Still, I’m glad I got the blade. It makes things just a little more difficult for Jonathan, and that is a good thing. Any little victory is to be celebrated, because it also makes things that much easier for us.
“If we weren’t fighting so close to my home, it would be different. Angels of other kingdoms would sense me, but would only know another angel was nearby. Here, and throughout the entire Earth/moon system, other angels will recognize me on sight.”
He stops and looks at me, his expression inscrutable. “Jonathan will know your energy signature now, of course. But did he see you?”
Oops! Caught off guard on that one. I’m so happy about my victory, I’ve temporarily forgotten I wasn’t supposed to approach or engage Jonathan at all.
“Um…yes?”
Look at the positive, Sam. Look at the good side.
“What?!”
Crap.
“He saw me.”
“How? I specifically told you to only make a grab for the blade if he was nowhere near it!” Sam narrows his eyes dangerously. A dark countenance shadows his face that I’ve never seen on him before. On anyone else, I would think it is barely concealed fury. On Sam, I’m not so sure. It could just be annoyance that I didn’t follow his instructions. Angel emotions are the same as human ones, but their intensity, or lack thereof, are often triggered by different things than a human would expect.
Well, if he’s mad, let him be. I did what I had to do, and this is war, after all. We both agreed on that, and agreed we are in this
fight together, not as commander and private, but as equals. I have the right to make my own decisions if the situation calls for it, which it certainly did in this case.
I raise my chin defiantly. “He was wearing the blade on him in a sheath at his waist the whole time. I wasn’t going to give up what might have been our only chance to get it.”
“Lucy, what did you do?”
Ah, I see. He isn’t mad so much as seriously concerned. I’ll learn all of his expressions and body language eventually.
“I told you I was all in on this, Sam, and I meant it. This just means Jonathan knows it, too, and can recognize me on sight, rather than just sense. Nothing else has changed.”
“Were Daniel and Jasper there?
“Yes. I heard him call them both by name.”
“Did they see you, too?”
“Only from the back.”
“Well, at least that’s something.”
A thought occurs to me. “Can I learn to sense them?”
“Yes. And I’ll teach you. It will give you at least some measure of protection if we’re ever separated.”
Separated? I don’t like the thought of that. But, I guess you never know what’s going to happen in a war. I will just have to do my best to make sure we stick together.
“What are we going to do with that blade?” I ask, changing the subject. “Maybe just open a door and toss it into some different or alternate universe? Or chuck it back into the past, or the future?”
Sam shakes his head. “No. We need to know where it is. A blade like this can kill an angel. It’s one of the few things that can without needing any magic attached to it. We might need to use it later, if the war escalates. At the very least, we need to be sure no other angel in any universe or time gets a hold of it. These things are very hard to come by. It’s no small matter for an angel to venture into the heart of a supernova to get the material necessary to make this kind of blade. It’s a dangerous thing to do, even for us, and requires months of meditation beforehand to even attempt it. There are lots of angels who would not hesitate to take it and use it unscrupulously. Even the ones who would hide it and protect it….well, I just don’t want to take the chance.”
“Where, then?”
“I’m thinking we leave it right here. Jonathan can’t enter without your permission, or without actually having you with him. As long as you don’t get captured by him, this is a perfect place to hide it.”
“But he might capture me. It’s certainly a possibility. Shouldn’t we leave it in someone else’s mansion, someone who isn’t involved in this? Like maybe one of my friends? None of them are seers, so they won’t know any of this is going on.”
“No. It needs to be somewhere you can get to it quickly if you need it. Besides, you can only access your own mansion, unless someone else invites you into theirs, remember? We can leave it right here, under the rug at the foot of these stairs.”
“But, how will either of us ever find it again? These hallways and staircases are always shifting. It may be somewhere completely different in here when we come to look for it.”
“Just think of the blade when you shift in. You’ll go right to it.”
Oh. Well, if that’s the case, then it seems as good an idea as any.
We put the blade under the rug as Sam said.
There is nothing to do now but go back to our home dimension and start building our power base. That means a trip to Vermont and trying to make contact with the seer family Sam is sure must be there. It also means an eventual trip to Sam’s home to visit his father, pay respect to his mother, and see what is left after Jasper’s visit. I know Sam will want to put that off as long as possible. Who wouldn’t?
We will also need to check in with the resistance training camp behind the moon and send out more recruiting angels to the far corners of the galaxy, and then the universe. We must amass an army of significant size before Jonathan does, and he already has a head start on us. There is much to do.
I still really want to explore this place, but once again, it isn’t time yet. Soon, though. Soon. I know I will come back and spend time here. It’s a strong feeling that sticks with me. My mansion and I are not done with each other yet for this lifetime. I will be back.
We stand, and I notice Sam moving his bound wing bone. “Can you take the bandage off, please?” he asks, tilting his head toward it.
“Is it healed?”
I knew he would heal quicker than any human, even being as exhausted as he was after his injury. But broken wing bones are tricky. It’s clearly stated in my grandmother’s book on angel lore.
“I think so,” he says, extending the bone experimentally. “The rest and getting my missing blood back helped. It feels like it’s ready to move. I’d like to try it.”
So, I unbind the bone, carefully unfurling the wing as I go. It looks perfect. But does it work perfectly?
Sam soon answers that question. He wiggles the wing back and forth, touches the flesh over the bone, running his finger along its entire length to determine if it feels whole. Then raising both wings gloriously upward, resplendent in all his angel glory and power, he flies up to the ceiling.
He’s fully healed, and it is incredible to behold. Goose bumps actually raise on my arms as I watch him fly.
After a few moments of enjoying his renewed wing and recharged strength, Sam floats gently back down to the floor, landing directly in front of me. He smiles broadly, flashing his sparkling white teeth.
We grasp each other’s hands, and an unspoken understanding of what we’re facing passes between us. Sam reaches out and lightly strokes the side of my face with his index finger, causing little involuntary shivers to go up and down my spine. I really want to kiss him just then, but don’t. I haven’t kissed anyone except Harry in years, and I’m not sure if this desire to kiss Sam is because I’m developing romantic feelings for him, or because of the intensity of the situation that brought and is keeping us together. And Sam is an angel, which makes it much more complicated. Better to wait until I’m sure on this one before I do anything rash. Besides, I have no idea how he feels on the matter.
For a moment, Sam does look like he wants to kiss me, too. But the look is gone almost as soon as it appears. He holds each of my hands in his, and together, we shift out of the mansion.
When we reappear an instant later, Orlando and my apartment are far behind. Together, we stand holding hands in a luscious, sweet smelling meadow in Vermont.
Shifting into the mansion is like stepping into another room. How did I ever not know how to do this? It’s going to take some effort to avoid constantly using this new power. I mean, where else can it take me? I want to explore. I want to teach everyone I know how to do it! But I must exercise self-control. All of the fun things that come with shifting have to wait until we defeat Jonathan. I hope we take care of him soon, because there are some seriously strong urges to shift through dimensions with abandon going on within me right now.
Not only am I psyched about my new power, I feel like a superhero. Looking at the blade in my hand, I must admit we are off to a good start. I grabbed it from the universe’s most dangerous angel all on my own. I’m a badass, and despite my pacifist stance, it is awesome. I am Buffy the Vampire Slayer!
“Thank God you’re safe!”
Sam is safely in the mansion and visibly relieved, rising up from where he was sitting on the stairs behind me. I turn toward him, so happy he is where he said he would be. I didn’t tell him, but I was worried he would be captured as he was in mid-shift, or he would leave me behind in the misguided belief it was for my own good.
To my utter astonishment, he rushes over to me and grabs me in a tight embrace.
Whoa! What is this? I knew he liked me well enough, but we’ve only known each other three days. That’s pretty fast to get so obviously attached to someone. Then again, they’ve been an eventful and emotional three days. I guess it’s true what they say about people who share foxholes together forming strong bonds quickly. I awkwardly return his hug, totally unprepared for his show of emotion toward me. The awkwardness is compounded when I have to put my arms around his waist under his one deployed wing and position the blade I’m still holding away from him so it doesn’t nick him, something that is harder than it sounds when you have to do it all in one fluid motion.
These blades are so dangerous to angels, even a tiny scratch with one would put him out of commission for months and leave a permanent scar. Not many things will scar an angel, since their healing abilities are so amazing, but this is one of those things; I remember the scar on Jonathan’s cheek. Did another angel put it there while trying to protect their own planet, or did he encounter some previously unknown race with a weapon capable of doing similar damage to the starstone blade?
There’s barely time to get myself into a good position to hug him back, though, as he pushes me away almost as quickly as he grabbed me. Then, he puts both hands on my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down several times over with a keenly apprising eye.
He is checking for cuts and bruises, maybe signs of blood.
Seeing none, he gasps out loud. “You are unharmed!”
I smile proudly, because he makes it sound like a genuine miracle. Surprisingly, pleasing him feels pretty good.
“Well, of course I am! I told you I could do it.” I lightly punch him in the ribs under his bandaged wing.
He gapes at me, agog. “You mean you actually got the blade?!”
“You sound like you didn’t think it could be done.” I put on a false “hurt feelings” tone, teasing him a little.
“It seemed unlikely,” he says, logically. “Jonathan was never going to let go of that blade. I was just sitting here, waiting for you to come back, thinking of alternate ways we could stay ahead of him without it. I never expected you to get it. And now here you are, with the blade in your hands. How did you do it?”
“Well…” I triumphantly hold up the blade, giving him my best smug smirk and tell him the story.
Sam’s eyes grow wide, and he holds out his hands toward the blade as if in a trance. Softly, he wraps both hands around the hilt and takes it from me. I let it go easily. It isn’t my weapon, after all, and Sam needs to retrieve his blood off of it before we stash it somewhere Jonathan will never find it.
He holds the glimmering black edge of the blade to his arm, unaccustomedly exposed by the green short-sleeved t-shirt I put on him yesterday, when I’d finally insisted on washing his bloody, dirty tunic and pants. He’s got a pair of Harry’s old jeans on, too, and they look incredibly attractive on him.
The shimmery drops of blood along the blade’s edge, which were somehow still wet and glistening after three days out in the open, lift up toward Sam, then quickly disappear through his skin, back inside him where they belong. No trace of them remain on the blade. It is entirely clean, which means it can no longer be used as a weapon against him.
Without a word, I reach into my pocket and hand him the paper towel with the rest of his blood on it. He performs the same trick with it, then hands the perfectly white and remarkably dry tissue back to me. He is once again whole, and there is nothing out there that can act as a homing beacon to lead the bad guys to him.
I let out a long sigh of relief I didn’t know I’d been holding onto, truly relaxed for the first time in days.
“How long will this buy us?” I ask, hoping he’ll say weeks or even years.
“This should keep Jonathan away from us indefinitely. He no longer has a way to track me with any effectiveness. The only way he will know if I’m near is if I’m within his immediate vicinity. Then, he’ll be able to sense my energy signature, as all angels can with any sentient being. I’ll wait to raise my signature back to normal until we’re in Vermont, though, just to be safe.”
“How near do you need to be to sense someone’s energy signature?”
“It’s not exact. Some of us are more sensitive to energies than others. Around five or ten miles is usually reasonable, though he could possibly sense me up to 20 miles away or so if he is particularly blessed in that regard. Or if one of his soldiers is.”
“Well, then, we just have to stay out of his way.”
“That’s easier said than done. Jonathan will have spies everywhere. If he can’t find me himself, he will have others who will report sightings of me to him. We don’t know which angels can be trusted anymore, as Luther taught us, so we have to be careful. We might not even know we’re being watched. Any report of us will bring Jonathan right to our door. We even have to view other seers with caution until we know them well, because Jonathan may already be bringing them into this war. After all, there’s a precedent. You’re a seer, and you’re in it. And since we plan on recruiting seers, why shouldn’t he do the same?”
“How comforting,” I say sarcastically.
Great. We might not even be able to trust other seers. Still, I’m glad I got the blade. It makes things just a little more difficult for Jonathan, and that is a good thing. Any little victory is to be celebrated, because it also makes things that much easier for us.
“If we weren’t fighting so close to my home, it would be different. Angels of other kingdoms would sense me, but would only know another angel was nearby. Here, and throughout the entire Earth/moon system, other angels will recognize me on sight.”
He stops and looks at me, his expression inscrutable. “Jonathan will know your energy signature now, of course. But did he see you?”
Oops! Caught off guard on that one. I’m so happy about my victory, I’ve temporarily forgotten I wasn’t supposed to approach or engage Jonathan at all.
“Um…yes?”
Look at the positive, Sam. Look at the good side.
“What?!”
Crap.
“He saw me.”
“How? I specifically told you to only make a grab for the blade if he was nowhere near it!” Sam narrows his eyes dangerously. A dark countenance shadows his face that I’ve never seen on him before. On anyone else, I would think it is barely concealed fury. On Sam, I’m not so sure. It could just be annoyance that I didn’t follow his instructions. Angel emotions are the same as human ones, but their intensity, or lack thereof, are often triggered by different things than a human would expect.
Well, if he’s mad, let him be. I did what I had to do, and this is war, after all. We both agreed on that, and agreed we are in this
I raise my chin defiantly. “He was wearing the blade on him in a sheath at his waist the whole time. I wasn’t going to give up what might have been our only chance to get it.”
“Lucy, what did you do?”
Ah, I see. He isn’t mad so much as seriously concerned. I’ll learn all of his expressions and body language eventually.
“I told you I was all in on this, Sam, and I meant it. This just means Jonathan knows it, too, and can recognize me on sight, rather than just sense. Nothing else has changed.”
“Were Daniel and Jasper there?
“Yes. I heard him call them both by name.”
“Did they see you, too?”
“Only from the back.”
“Well, at least that’s something.”
A thought occurs to me. “Can I learn to sense them?”
“Yes. And I’ll teach you. It will give you at least some measure of protection if we’re ever separated.”
Separated? I don’t like the thought of that. But, I guess you never know what’s going to happen in a war. I will just have to do my best to make sure we stick together.
“What are we going to do with that blade?” I ask, changing the subject. “Maybe just open a door and toss it into some different or alternate universe? Or chuck it back into the past, or the future?”
Sam shakes his head. “No. We need to know where it is. A blade like this can kill an angel. It’s one of the few things that can without needing any magic attached to it. We might need to use it later, if the war escalates. At the very least, we need to be sure no other angel in any universe or time gets a hold of it. These things are very hard to come by. It’s no small matter for an angel to venture into the heart of a supernova to get the material necessary to make this kind of blade. It’s a dangerous thing to do, even for us, and requires months of meditation beforehand to even attempt it. There are lots of angels who would not hesitate to take it and use it unscrupulously. Even the ones who would hide it and protect it….well, I just don’t want to take the chance.”
“Where, then?”
“I’m thinking we leave it right here. Jonathan can’t enter without your permission, or without actually having you with him. As long as you don’t get captured by him, this is a perfect place to hide it.”
“But he might capture me. It’s certainly a possibility. Shouldn’t we leave it in someone else’s mansion, someone who isn’t involved in this? Like maybe one of my friends? None of them are seers, so they won’t know any of this is going on.”
“No. It needs to be somewhere you can get to it quickly if you need it. Besides, you can only access your own mansion, unless someone else invites you into theirs, remember? We can leave it right here, under the rug at the foot of these stairs.”
“But, how will either of us ever find it again? These hallways and staircases are always shifting. It may be somewhere completely different in here when we come to look for it.”
“Just think of the blade when you shift in. You’ll go right to it.”
Oh. Well, if that’s the case, then it seems as good an idea as any.
We put the blade under the rug as Sam said.
There is nothing to do now but go back to our home dimension and start building our power base. That means a trip to Vermont and trying to make contact with the seer family Sam is sure must be there. It also means an eventual trip to Sam’s home to visit his father, pay respect to his mother, and see what is left after Jasper’s visit. I know Sam will want to put that off as long as possible. Who wouldn’t?
We will also need to check in with the resistance training camp behind the moon and send out more recruiting angels to the far corners of the galaxy, and then the universe. We must amass an army of significant size before Jonathan does, and he already has a head start on us. There is much to do.
I still really want to explore this place, but once again, it isn’t time yet. Soon, though. Soon. I know I will come back and spend time here. It’s a strong feeling that sticks with me. My mansion and I are not done with each other yet for this lifetime. I will be back.
We stand, and I notice Sam moving his bound wing bone. “Can you take the bandage off, please?” he asks, tilting his head toward it.
“Is it healed?”
I knew he would heal quicker than any human, even being as exhausted as he was after his injury. But broken wing bones are tricky. It’s clearly stated in my grandmother’s book on angel lore.
“I think so,” he says, extending the bone experimentally. “The rest and getting my missing blood back helped. It feels like it’s ready to move. I’d like to try it.”
So, I unbind the bone, carefully unfurling the wing as I go. It looks perfect. But does it work perfectly?
Sam soon answers that question. He wiggles the wing back and forth, touches the flesh over the bone, running his finger along its entire length to determine if it feels whole. Then raising both wings gloriously upward, resplendent in all his angel glory and power, he flies up to the ceiling.
He’s fully healed, and it is incredible to behold. Goose bumps actually raise on my arms as I watch him fly.
After a few moments of enjoying his renewed wing and recharged strength, Sam floats gently back down to the floor, landing directly in front of me. He smiles broadly, flashing his sparkling white teeth.
We grasp each other’s hands, and an unspoken understanding of what we’re facing passes between us. Sam reaches out and lightly strokes the side of my face with his index finger, causing little involuntary shivers to go up and down my spine. I really want to kiss him just then, but don’t. I haven’t kissed anyone except Harry in years, and I’m not sure if this desire to kiss Sam is because I’m developing romantic feelings for him, or because of the intensity of the situation that brought and is keeping us together. And Sam is an angel, which makes it much more complicated. Better to wait until I’m sure on this one before I do anything rash. Besides, I have no idea how he feels on the matter.
For a moment, Sam does look like he wants to kiss me, too. But the look is gone almost as soon as it appears. He holds each of my hands in his, and together, we shift out of the mansion.
When we reappear an instant later, Orlando and my apartment are far behind. Together, we stand holding hands in a luscious, sweet smelling meadow in Vermont.