“The Guardians knew I’d hidden it here,” I said, nodding my head forward into my hands. Thad lifted a finger.
“But there’s the good news,” he said. “They must not have found the Blade, or else they’d have used it on you by now, right? I mean, isn’t that the whole point?”
He pointed his fork at me. “Think like them. They have to keep killing you every seventeen years. If they had the Blade, and that’d make you die once and for all, they’d have gotten rid of you with it last time.”
“Good point,” I admitted. Maybe the Guardians had given up on their search, thinking that I’d hidden it somewhere else. Hope was having a hard time seeping through the shutters, but I accepted whatever little bit I could get.
“So where is it now?” Callista pressed. Thad swallowed his mouthful down.
“I read a little more,” he continued. “After the church was burned down, all of the relics and anything important were retrieved and moved.”
Callista’s fork scraped against her plate.
“So the Blade is just hidden with all the old stuff,” she said when it hit her.
Thad nodded deeply, too glowing for what he was about to say to be bad news
“They took it all north,” he said with excitement. “Everything is being stored at the Cathedral Of Saint Helen in a little town called Lodi.”
“And nobody ever thought otherwise,” I said, a thrill of relief driving through my heart. For once, fate appeared to be working in our favor. I shoveled a bite of my food into my mouth as some type of victory stab.
“Let’s get there fast,” I told them through my full mouth. “We can make it tonight.”
“Flying might not be the best idea,” Callista broke in. “It’s too much of a risk. All it takes is one Guardian or Chosen still hanging around this area to spot us, and it’s all over.”
It could have been the usual, paranoid Callista-speak that Thad and I were learning to ignore. However, we contemplated her words for a bit, and she was probably right. It wouldn’t be smart to take any unneeded risks now, not when we were so close and were still undiscovered.
“Dangit.” I grumbled loudly. “This is one of those rare occasions when Callista is right.”
The way she glared at me, I knew if I’d been sitting in range I’d have gotten punched.
“So let’s stay as much under the radar as we can,” I went on. “We’ll sleep tonight and drive it early tomorrow.”
None of us were interested in finishing our meals, not now that we’d found a lead and were too eager to concentrate on something so mundane. But we gobbled down our food because we were all getting tired of little but albacore tuna and crackers back at the house. I paid with one of the $100 bills, Callista and Thad sending me curious glances when I produced the money. We climbed into our cars and drove back to the house with few words passing between us. Anytime one of us tried to start a conversation, it would end abruptly. Pretty soon we gave up on trying, and separated throughout the house.
We went to our rooms early, knowing that we’d need rest to face whatever was coming the next day. When I heard the last of their doors closing but found myself turning over in the bed repeatedly for hours, I turning onto my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to sort through my thoughts.
Restlessness held me like the grip of noose, choking any sense of peace out of me that might have led me to sleep. The house had become unsettlingly quiet, the missing hum of my bedroom ceiling fan causing the room to feel even more vacant. It was just too big of a bed, the walls were too far away. There were none of my familiar photos on the walls either, those faces that most people might be frightened by in the middle of the night but I found strangely comforting. Maybe reading their eyes had made me feel like I wasn’t so alone in my room. Or maybe they’d just reassured me that I was home.
I occupied myself by flexing my hands, claws slipping in and out like familiar allies. How quickly they’d become commonplace. With them had also appeared the scale-like armor over my hands. I scratched the outside of my left hand with my right claws but the metal shield refused to budge. I didn’t feel the razors even when they touched the scales. Stupidly I tried the claw against my lower arm, wincing when they sliced through. I grabbed my hand tightly as a thin sliver of blood appeared, claws retracting immediately. Bright idea, Michael…
What had I turned into? Did my power to read eyes play any part—had it been a forewarning of what I would transform into? Mr. Sharpe hadn’t had that ability. Why was I different?
I kept falling into that endless rut of questioning. Usually on nights like this, I would wander out and take pictures of people as they walked through the parks or up and down the sidewalks. I thought about how simple life had once been. There hadn’t been deaths and chases and plane crashes. There’d been work and school and sneaking out. My mom was yelling was the worst I’d ever gotten sometimes. I missed Arleta, but I missed my family even more.
What would it hurt? my untrustworthy mind began to wonder. Arleta was so close to where I was, so much that it ached just thinking about how few minutes it would take me in flight to get there. And besides, we were driving a long way in the morning. Who knew? Tonight might be my last night in Los Angeles for a while.
As soon as my mind was made up, I planned my escape. Callista and Thad couldn’t know: never in a million years would they let me go. But I was confident that if I crossed the city under cover of night, I would be safe enough, and they wouldn’t even notice.
I locked my bedroom door as a safeguard, checking to make sure there was no turquoise glow underneath—Callista wasn’t in the hall. I parted the curtains and blinds as quietly as I could. With careful fingers, I unlocked the window, wrestled the screen inside, and stepped onto the sill.
A cool breeze hit my face as I stood unsteadily, letting the air awaken me and clear my senses. Was this really a good idea?
I refused to let indecision get the best of me. So I jumped.
I fell a few inches, many more than I had intended. The rush of air sent a similar rush through my heart. I yanked at whatever invisible muscle controlled my powers, catching the air inches before the yard would have arrived. Bushes and trees muddled the shadow I cast on the ground.
Time was nothing to me as I wandered through the sky, tossing cares from my shoulders one-by-one and letting them shatter on the ground far below. The sight of the glittering city was familiar to me now, but still no less dazzling as I soared over Los Angeles and its cars and buildings, most of them powered down like sleeping robots. I kept below the clouds so that I could watch my path, struggling at first but soon falling into a natural autopilot.
Arleta did not shine nearly as brightly as Los Angeles did. I had to fly lower if I wanted to touch those old rooftops, the smell of lawn mower gasoline and road tar and car exhaust invading my nose. But that odor was such a holy sting. It reeked of plainness. I knew those broken streetlights in uneven lines, the old cars on the curbs and on concrete blocks in driveways, the grass not mowed, the badly-painted houses, the dirty pools, the wild dogs barking at the newly risen moon.
And the blue bug zappers! I could not physically hear them from as high as I was but my mind could still place their unmistakable buzz as I flew over, hearing voices from people sitting on a porch. Nothing here was fake. Insincerity died before it could crawl to Arleta.
I flew just over the tops of the cars, everything unchanged but appearing different from above. Branford Park was empty except for some stragglers smoking on a bench. I kept turning corners until I got to Hogan Lane and saw my house.