Jo was grateful to see Ben alive and well. He made quick work of unlocking the bracelets on Lary and dug up granola bars for everyone. They grabbed the food and ate on the run, still bloodied and covered with filth. There wasn’t time to care about these things—no time for explanations, questions or talk of any kind.
Those leaving piled into two cars, and sped back to Fort Collins and the nearest hospital, except Ben and Jo. They would stay behind to clean up the cabin and gather everyone’s belongings and drive back in April’s car. Mike had fought with Jo to come with them and argued that Drew could stay and help Ben. He had pointed out the purplish hole in her leg that needed attention, but she had refused the leave. He had implored her, but she would not be moved and, fortunately for her, they didn’t have time to keep arguing.
When the back of Mike’s truck disappeared in dust of the road, Jo and Ben faced each other. His eyes were sunk in darkened circles of skin. He was frowning, almost wincing, as he took in her appearance.
Jo looked down at her disheveled, bloodied self. “I’m taking a shower.”
In the solitude of the bathroom, behind the white, plastic curtain, Jo sat in the tub under the shower water, hugging her knees to her chest. Hot liquid streamed down on her like a constant rain, soaking the top of her head and flowing down her face, mixing with her tears. Dirt and revived dried blood created a brownish rivulet from her body to the drain. The water stung her scratches and cuts. But the stinging in her heart was overwhelming. She sobbed, quietly, so Ben wouldn’t hear.
Jo lifted her face. The water drummed gently on her eyelids. She pictured Galen sitting on the deck in the golden evening; stretched out long and lanky on the ground, twirling that blade of grass between his lips. She remembered the firelight glowing in his pitch-black hair. She pictured him standing in the pearl-colored moonlight. She felt his strength as he carried her across the river. She saw his eyes, soft and silver, and the smile no one else had seen. His kiss…she touched her lips with her fingertips as the water patted them with warm steady drops.
She concentrated hard on that last moment before the sun came up: the glint of light off the gold sword, the sparkling blue armor, rippled muscle, sapphire wings spreading up into the pink dawn. She still couldn’t fathom what had happened. The memory of it played over and over. It couldn’t have happened. But Galen was gone and the vampires were dead—their screams still echoed in her head. She would never forget watching that sword slicing through them. It must have happened.
And if it happened, he was gone. Jo pondered how she would ever mend the pieces of torn heart that throbbed inside her chest.
The water turned cold. Her overworked muscles ached as she got up. She turned the shower off and examined the raw, torn palms of her hands.
“Jo, are you all right in there?” Ben asked through the door.
Jo sniffed and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Come eat something.”
The scent of eggs and toast hung in the steam, along with the smell of soap and shampoo. She was starving, but not interested in eating. She stared at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror and observed how bloodshot her greyish-greenish-bluish-violet eyes were and how dark her golden hair was when it was wet. There were still pine needles embedded in it, here and there. She gingerly touched the bruise on her face.
She stepped out of the bathroom dressed in boot cut jeans and a baby-blue V-neck T-shirt—the outfit she had packed especially for Mike, hoping he would find her adorable in it. That seemed so long ago—another lifetime. She wadded up her filthy, blood-spattered shorts and shirt from the hike and stuffed them into a plastic trash bag in the kitchen, but not before removing an object from her pocket.
Ben was sitting at the dining table waiting for her. There was a paper plate of scrambled eggs and toast and a Styrofoam cup of orange juice across from where he was sitting. Jo sat down and looked at the food and then up at Ben, at his sunken eyes.
“Thank you,” she said softly, as she poked at the eggs with her fork.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No…this is great.” She took a small bite of egg, just to be polite, but after that, she devoured them like a starved animal. She gobbled the toast and gulped the orange juice. It burned her throat. Ben got up, grabbed the frying pan, scraped the last of the eggs onto her plate and poured her the last of the juice. Jo took a deep breath. Her head wasn’t so heavy, and her stomach had quieted, satisfied with food and drink. “We were worried about you, Ben.”
He grinned and snuffled. “You’re kidding, right? You guys were worried about me?”
“Of course. Did they come here?”
“No.” He seemed disappointed.
Jo swished some juice in her mouth and swallowed it. “I’m glad.”
“I’m glad you guys are Ok—well, relatively speaking. I was praying for you.”
Her heart was touched, she smiled at him. “We felt it.” Her throat tightened. She took a deep breath.
There was a question behind his dark eyes. The air in the room was heavy with it.
“You haven’t asked about…Galen.” His named sounded lyrical in her ears. A wave of pain rolled through her chest.
“I was afraid to.” He studied her for a moment. “But, he’s not dead, is he?”
She looked straight at him. “No.”
Ben lifted his eyebrows.
Jo scraped her fork across the empty paper plate and tapped her fingertips lightly on the table. He was silent, waiting.
“He saved us,” she told him. Her voice had a slight tremor and her bottom lip quivered. This time she couldn’t repress the tears. Her eyes swelled with fluid and it spilled over onto her fresh-washed face. She lowered her head. “I think he went back to…where he came from.”
The room was quiet for a moment until Ben asked, “Do you know that if you take the letters of Galen’s name and rearrange them you can spell ‘angel’?”
Jo jerked her head up. She swiped the wetness off the edge of her chin with the back her hand and stared at him. “What?”
“I’ve made some observations.” He stood up and reached for Jo’s empty plate and cup, taking them to the trash bag. Her eyes followed him. “He never slept.” He twisted the bag closed. “Of course, no one did much on this trip, but even when he had the chance, I never saw him sleep. He didn’t eat either. Did you ever see him eat?”
Jo shook her head.
“He wasn’t affected by cold or heat—except for his body’s natural responses—and he was exceptionally strong.” He set the trash bag on the floor and turned to the sink to wash the frying pan. Jo’s heart pounded. He rinsed the pan and dried it with paper towels, placing it back in the cupboard. “He never would tell us his last name or where he came from. He was very odd—even for our group.”
Jo couldn’t help a faint grin.
“But what really made me suspicious was how the vampires reacted to him, like they saw something we couldn’t.” He ripped some sheets off a roll of paper towels. He looked at Jo. “He really seemed to dislike you.”
She shifted in her chair.
“Or did something change?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re blushing.”
She knew she was blushing. The skin on her face was hot.
He came over to wipe the table. On top of a paper towel, his hand glided back and forth over the smooth surface of the wood, back and forth, back and forth. She grabbed it. “Ben, I saw him. Vampires were attacking us—hundreds. There was this brilliant, awesome light. He was covered in some kind of blue armor—like, like a billion blue diamonds—with these huge wings. He killed all of them with a gold sword. It was amazing!” She took a breath and let go of Ben’s hand.
Ben lowered himself onto a chair, his brown eyes wide.
“He looked so different, but it had to be him,” Jo continued, looking through Ben, backwards in time to the early morning. She shook her head to bring herself to the present. “The light was so
bright, it hurt. I passed out and when I woke up, the sun was up. There was no trace of Galen…or the vampires. But…maybe it was just the sun—and I dreamed the rest. Maybe he just ran off.” She blinked again and again, exhausted and drained.
Ben leaned back in his chair and folded his arms on top of his belly. He shook his head slightly. “You just proved what I suspected. I believe Galen was an angel. It sounds like he changed into his true form to defeat the enemy.” He reached up to remove his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a corner of his pale pink shirt.
Jo marveled at him. “Why’s it so easy for you to accept this?” The story sounded too incredible to her ears—and she was there!
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a believer. You know, ‘angels unawares’ and all that.”
She smiled at his simple answer. “But, if it’s true, why was he here?”
“Well, in light of the past events, he might have been sent to protect us. Or one of us.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe April—she brought him.”
“Maybe. But he seemed very preoccupied with you.”
“Preoccupied with vexing me.” Jo glanced away.
Ben was quiet. He put his glasses back on.
“He wasn’t very nice to us, for an angel,” she said, looking wistfully past Ben’s head at the thin white curtains on the back door.
“Perhaps he didn’t like his assignment.”
Jo’s eyes shot back to Ben’s face. “Assignment,” she said under her breath. Like a job. “But why would he be here physically?”
“I’m not sure about that one.” Ben shook his head.
“He acted so weird about us getting back before night. If he knew about the vampires, why didn’t he just tell us?”
“Angels aren’t omniscient, so I don’t think he knew about them exactly, but, remember, he did sense something.”
“Right.” Jo closed her eyes. Her thoughts churned slowly as if her mind was filled with molasses.
“Ben,” she opened her wet eyes and met his gaze, “do you think angels can fall in love…with people?”
He ran a thumb and finger over his mustache as he contemplated the question. He took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the table, folding his hands together. “I don’t know the answer to that, Jo. In human form, it’s logical to think that they could experience whatever humans do. But, ultimately, they were created to serve God, so I doubt they would allow themselves to...”
Jo dropped her gaze from his face. Her bottom lip trembled. Ben’s chair scraped on the wood floor. In a moment, his hand was on her shoulder.
“Hey, you need some rest.” Like a kind father, he took her arm and lifted her to her feet and led her to the small bedroom. Jo crawled up onto the bed and lay curled up on her side. Ben turned to leave the room.
“Ben, wait.” She held out her hand.
He walked back to the edge of the bed and put his hand under hers. Her fingers uncurled. The object from her pocket dropped into his palm: a silver chess piece.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The words left her mouth with her last ounce of conscious strength and she descended into deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 44