The Next Death: Chapter 18

Once Gran is up, she claims Dan and me for games. We play until she leaves after lunch. Angel hangs nearby the whole time, calmly flitting about, humming to themselves. I think Charcoal can see Angel considering how every now and then I catch her tracking them with her eyes. She never attacks Angel though, so I think it's okay.

After Gran leaves, I go back to my room to 'do homework.' I had actually managed to complete my homework before Gran and Dan had woken up, so now I was just musing how to convince Mors that Angel wasn’t a threat and should be allowed to stay. Outside of pleading my case, I haven't come up with anything by the time I go to bed.

While I'm glad I have the distraction of school, as the time goes by, I'm also growing more anxious. If I couldn't convince them that Angel should be allowed to stay, Angel was running out of time.

When the bell ending history rings, I'm slow to move. Angel watches me from the front of the room, keeping an ever-attentive eye on my surroundings.

"Hey," James's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You okay?"

I look up to find him looking down at me, brow ever so slightly furrowed. "Yeah," I push up from my desk, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Why?"

"You've seemed distracted since you walked into chem."

I blink. Had I been that easy to read?

"You normally talk more with Emma and Riley," he says in answer to my unspoken question, holding the door open for me.

"Oh, yeah, no. Just had something on my mind. Nothing serious. Guess it's taking a bit more attention than I thought it was."

"Well, whatever it is," he says, pausing in the hall, despite the students swarming around us, "Good luck figuring it out."

"Thanks."

Giving me a half-smile and a wave, he moves down the hall towards his next class. Turning, I wade down the hall to the lockers. If I had hardly used it before, it was even less used now. I push the textbooks I won't need for homework tonight into it, studying how empty it is. It used to be a little more hectic, crammed with textbooks and old returned papers. I used to have a spare jacket hanging in it, but since I hardly got cold anymore, I hadn't bothered bringing it back. Mom had cleared it out after the accident, not knowing what I would need after waking up from my coma and now it felt just like my life. A hollow, empty cover that didn't quite feel like it was mine anymore.

"Is something wrong?" Angel asks, floating by my head.

Yes or no questions. That was what we had decided to use when around other people. I could easily pass off a shake or nod. Closing my locker, I offer Angel a slight shake of my head.

The guard at the gate, now used to seeing me, simply waves me through as I flash him my ID. My walk to Old Merchants Lane is quiet, not that it normally isn't, but the silence seems heavier than normal.

"Angel," I say aloud after making sure I'm alone, "In case this doesn't turn out the way we're hoping, sorry."

Angel is quiet for a second. "It's okay. I'm just glad I got to talk to someone who isn't trying to kill me for once."

"Stay as out of sight as long as possible until I can explain things," I whisper as my hand lands on the door to the shop. "Here goes nothing."

As I walk into the shop, Angel ducks behind me. I've only gotten a few steps into the shop when I see Sam walking in from the back with Neal. I can see them tensing, eyes flicking over me as I approach.

"I have something I have to say," I announce before they can speak, stopping before the counter.

"Mr. Mors is here today," Sam says with an all too calm voice. "Did something happen to you this weekend?"

I let out a nervous laugh. "Funny you should ask. It's kinda a long story."

I can see Sam's fingers flexing, preparing to pull his weapon.

"I need you to promise me that you'll hear me out."

"Eliza," Neal's voice is tense.

“Get down," Agatha's voice rings through the shop.

I only have a second to turn my head to find her charging me, scythe up, ready to strike. Both boys reach for me when I pivot directly into Agatha's path, freezing when they realize Angel is behind me.

Agatha stops a foot away, scythe still up and ready to strike. "Move," she hisses at me.

I see movement from the corner of my eyes. Sam's sword is in his hand and he's poised to jump the counter. Neal has his scythe out as well, ready to fight if needed.

"No, stop." I move ever so slightly, not enough to allow Agatha to strike but to hold an arm in Sam's way. "Angel is good."

Neal blinks, baffled. "You named it Angel?"

"I am Elizabeth's guardian angel and I accept whatever she wishes to call me," Angel says, moving closer to me, ensuring their safety.

"That thing doesn't get a name," Agatha hisses.

"Well too bad, I gave it one," I snap at her.

"Eliza," Sam says calmly, "Do you know what guardian angels are?"

"Yes," I meet his gaze, "Lost souls. I do know how to use my journal," I remind him.

"Then you should also know that they can be unpredictable," Agatha says sternly. "They can't be trusted."

"Well, Angel already saved me once and has promised to be on good behavior," as I finish speaking, I realize that I shouldn't have said that.

All three now have their eyes locked on me and me alone.

"Saved you from what?" Neal hazards.

"Gremlins," Angel puts in helpfully.

Strike two. Oh, we were done for.

"You were attacked by gremlins?" I had never seen Neal lose his cool but something told me I was very close to seeing it happen.

"Yes," I offer after a moment.

"When?"

"Saturday evening."

"And you didn't call because?"

"I. . . had Angel?"

Neal takes a deep breath, clearly trying very hard not to lose his cool as Agatha and Sam just stare at me.

I hear an exclamation from Angel and turn to find them flying across the room, right into Mr. Mors's outstretched hand. His dark eyes calmly study Angel, who, wisely, remains quiet, light dimming as they hover over his palm.

Finally, his eyes come up to me. He looks less than impressed. His eyes flick across Agatha, Neal, and Sam before coming back to me. "Somehow, I find myself unsurprised you've managed to pick up a lost soul."

"It wasn't on purpose?" I offer as if it somehow makes a difference.

"Of that, I've no doubt." His eyes turn back to Angel. "I suppose I do owe you a thanks for saving my strong-willed apprentice. Here's how this is going to work: I will allow you to continue acting as my apprentice's guardian angel, but should you step out of line in any way, whatsoever, my reapers will see to it that you're put to rest. Do I make myself clear?"

Angel's ball of light bobs in the air.

"Very good." Mr. Mors drops his hand.

Angel doesn't hesitate to fly back across the room to me, their only true sanctuary in this shop.

"You can't be serious," Agatha's voice is flat.

"With everything going on, we can't be too careful," Mr. Mors replies easily. Turning, he heads back towards his office. "Come Miss Kissinger. I owe you an explanation."