Guardian (36 page)

You would have Rafael,
a small voice inside me whispered.
What other comfort do you need?

Yes. Rafael. I would have him. My heart swelled at the idea of being with him forever, at the same time that it broke at the thought of never seeing the inside of another church again.
But to live in heaven as an angel!
protested the part of me that always saw the positive side of things. To be that close to God –
and
Rafael – not just for a lifetime, but for all the rest of
time
. Surely it would be worth a few centuries of hardship here on earth, and the sacrifice of church and the Eucharist?

Sacrifice, I suddenly realized, as the whole congregation stood for the final blessing. That was what all of it came down to. How much was I willing to sacrifice for God? Continue as I was, working my own little way, which was plenty good enough in His eyes, so long as my heart was committed to it, or move on to something bigger? Something so much bigger, something that would challenge my faith more than ever before? Give up everything, even my closest connection with Jesus, in order to be closer to Him when He finally came? Could I really do that?

My head was pounding by the time mass ended, and seemed to continue until at last, Thanksgiving, and the night of Eli St. James’s gala arrived.

The day before, Matt, Natalie’s brother, had asked Colton and Grace to spend the night. I slept late for one luxurious, rare morning. I had Friday and the rest of the weekend off to do homework, and had decided not to lift a finger for it until tonight was over. I ate a late breakfast, quietly avoiding my parents, who were watching football games in the living room, and by the time I had tidied up my room and the rest of the house, gathered up my things and showered, Rafael was pulling into the driveway.

Rachel had offered to do my hair for the party, and I enjoyed having her fuss over me until I had a mass of curls pinned up at the crown of my head, soft tendrils falling down to frame my face and tickle the back of my neck. Only after she had expertly applied my makeup and it was almost time to go did I dare to slip out of my sweats and into my glorious new dress and heels.

I felt stunning. Didn’t just look it,
felt
it.

When Rafael stepped into view, dressed in an actual tuxedo, with Damian at his side, he stole my breath away. I’d never seen him looking so dressed up. Never out of his leather jacket and dark jeans. Dressed in the tux, he looked more dangerous and mysterious, the shock of the white shirt against the black jacket and pants made his skin look tanner, his eyes a more vibrant green. He looked incredibly handsome, virile, like just another wildly successful city businessman, not a powerful fallen angel.

I wasn’t the only one who seemed to have been robbed of words. Both Damian and Rafael were staring at me, apparently unable to think of anything to say. Self-consciously, I tugged at my dress and then one of the silver chandelier earrings Rachel had loaned me.

“I feel,” I said slowly, wishing one of them would speak, “extremely grown up in this outfit.”

Damian finally laughed. “And you look it, young one,” he assured me. “Though not quite as old as us.” He wandered away, leaving me with Rafael, who still hadn’t spoken.

I cleared my throat, unnerved. “You look very nice.”
Understatement of the century.
He looked dashing, dangerous, safe, and protective all at once.

“And you look stunning,” he said, sounding almost uneasy at the idea.

“I’ll pretend you said it like you actually meant it,” I replied tartly.

That made him smile and laugh, and he took a step closer. “I mean, you don’t look like yourself. Well, you do, but you’re right. You look older, like the woman you’ll grow up to be.”

I’m a woman now!
I wanted to protest, wondering if this was another reason why he refused to make me a Fallen.

“You’ve always acted grown up, but now you look it,” Rafael added, as though he could read my thoughts. “It’s a little strange.”

“Strange or not, you’re stuck with my adult alter ego all night,” I told him, and offered up my arm.

Grinning, Rafael accepted it, and we walked over to rest of the Fallen. It was strange to see everyone out of their normal ultra-casual jeans and jackets and into evening gowns and tuxedos. The men all looked like jaded, wealthy tycoons, and Sara and Orpah were every bit as stunning as Rachel in dresses of midnight blue and emerald green. After all us girls had appropriately complimented each other, we headed downstairs to the cars. Rafael opened the Hummer’s door for me and I stepped carefully inside, watching as all the other Fallen loaded up as well. I had to admit they were absolutely breathtaking when they discarded their casual clothes and let their beauty shine through. I could barely take my eyes off them.

Our drive was relatively silent. I asked Rafael what he knew of this mysterious Eli St. James, and the answer was not much. He was a doctor, Damian had said, but now worked mainly in research. He had worked in a hospital for ten years, another five in a cancer ward, and for the last four years, he had been spending most of his time helping to research a cure for cancer, and leading an active social life in raising money to fund his own and others’ research. I had wondered exactly what kind of influence St. James had when Damian had described him as a powerful man whose friendship would benefit them, and as we turned onto Riverside Drive, the answer became clear.

Eli St. James had
money
. Lots of it.

I couldn’t hold back a gasp as we pulled into the driveway of his home. Large gates flanked the end of the long, winding driveway, and tall columns of stone topped by angels with wide, outstretched wings framed the scene. Even in November the lawn seemed impeccably kept; the grass was green, bare of all the leaves that had fallen from the naked trees scattered in strategic spots across the acres. It was an
estate
, a mansion. The actual house was made mostly of brick, with ivy covering everything up to the second and third floors, and across the walls and big windows framed by darkly painted wood. The roof was dark as well, and the whole thing reminded me the sinister, though stunningly beautiful, setting of a Grimm fairy tale.

I couldn’t stop gaping, even as we reached the end of the driveway and pulled into a parking spot. The house sat on top of a crested hill, the driveway slanting upward and winding through the lawn in gentle curves until it flattened at the top of the hill and was spread out to make a giant courtyard, perfectly accommodating the twenty other vehicles already there. Two limos passed us, dropping off people dressed even fancier than we were.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth,” Rafael teased.

“I don’t care!” I said, too struck with giddy awe to be concerned. “It’s huge! Rafael, there must be four or five floors!”

“And you won’t see any of them if you don’t get out of the car,” Rafael pointed out, laughing aloud now.

I looked over and saw that he was already out of the car, and as I blinked, he closed his door and appeared at mine. “Thank you, sir,” I said in my most formal voice, stepping out of the car as he helped me. I looked around, already dazzled and overwhelmed by all the glamour around me as we waited for the other Fallen to catch up to us.

“I feel out of my element,” I whispered confidentially.

“This isn’t exactly my favorite kind of scene, either,” Rafael replied, adjusting his tie and vest with a pained expression. “There are Fallen who really enjoy the glamorous. They’ve built up their wealth or started companies and stay on the donations side of do-gooding. Then they get to dress up and attend benefits and balls and dinners.”

“That seems kind of, well, I don’t know, not selfish. Materialistic, maybe. Shouldn’t they be out being, well,
active
?”

Rafael smiled down at me. “Most of us can’t stand to be that inactive. But you have to remember, Lyla. Once, we were the most glorious beings in the world, the whole universe. We were second to none except God, and lived in the most fantastical place, a place beyond what you could ever imagine, in heaven. This,” he gestured toward the enormous house before us, “is hardly worthy to be called a hovel in comparison. Even when we chose to side with Lucifer and when we fell, we had a life and beauty far beyond what can be found on earth. Many Fallen cannot let go of that, and struggle with the lowliness that accompanies being on Earth. They try, pathetically, I’ll admit, to recreate some of that on Earth, with their mansions and palaces and lives of leisure.”

“It all sounds a little pointless. Don’t they know, after spending all that time in heaven, that material items mean nothing?”

Rafael shrugged. “I told you once before, siding with Lucifer opened us up to human vices and sins. We are more human than we are angel; it’s part of our punishment. Many Fallen find it very hard to let go of their old way of life. We’re selfish and greedy, and we want all those same vain things that nearly every human lusts for: wealth, success, fame, being seen as someone worth noticing. The difference is that it’s much easier for us to attain this, and thus a much bigger temptation.”

I opened my mouth to reply, wanting to know how tempted Rafael was by this kind of life, but just then the other Fallen reached us, and we headed for the house. Rafael took my hand as we reached the steps, tucking my arm into his and guiding me up the uneven stone in my heels.

I stepped over the threshold of the door, and into a world I had never even dreamed existed. As a child and even now, especially with Grace around, I had imagined being rich, pictured myself as Cinderella in the palace, dreamed of being rescued like Little Orphan Annie and taken to a new rich life. But nothing could have prepared me for the actual wealth and opulence of the home of Eli St. James.

I walked only because Rafael tugged at my arm. Without him to guide me, I would have tripped over my own feet. Damian led all of us confidently forward, out of the entryway and toward a man standing to the right of the doorway. Unlike the other men, adorned with shiny cufflinks and polished buttons and beautiful women, he stood alone, dressed in a simple but well cut tuxedo.

Eli St. James was a tall man, with coal black hair that was beginning to streak gray at the temples. The gray only served to distinguish him, or otherwise he would have appeared much too young to have accomplished all the work and research Rafael had told me about. The only other sign to his age were small, crow’s feet wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His skin was tanned, like Rafael’s, and his eyes were a curious, light fawn color, too light to be brown, too dark for grey or blue. Contrasting with his heavy brows and the darkness of hair and skin, he had an unnervingly penetrating gaze.

I supposed he was handsome, in a bladed nose, sharp cheekbone, Romanesque kind of way, but I preferred the timeless, classic beauty of the Fallen, the way they didn’t appear special until you looked directly into their eyes, and they seemed to glow from within. St. James, behind his warm smile and jovial tone, seemed hard. There was a guarded edge to him, even though he seemed delighted by our appearance at the gala.

“Welcome, welcome to all of you!” He shook everyone’s hand as Damian went down the line and introduced us, but kept hold of mine since I was the last in line. Covering my hand with both of his, he addressed the whole group, “I was so pleased that Damian was able to convince you all to come. Please, enjoy yourselves.” He leaned forward toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “I look forward to speaking with all of you later.”

As far as glamorous parties went, it was pretty boring. The life of the rich had always seemed so dazzling and exciting, but within an hour, I was wondering if I ought to have begged off and gone to Natalie’s instead. But I was stuck, walking aimlessly around with a glass of sparkling grape juice in my hand, watching all the people that approached the Fallen, drawn by their unusual, unconventional attraction and looks. I was largely ignored, but after hearing some of the conversations that went on between the Fallen and the other guests – talk of politics and the economy – I was grateful to be invisible.

St. James’s house was huge, more like a museum than a home. The marble entryway, with its cathedral ceiling, crystal chandelier and ornate wood paneling, was the main room for mingling. It was backed by a giant balcony, stairs carpeted in burgundy runners on either side. Rooms to the right and left of the entryway housed food, more people, and mini bar stations. For added ‘fun’ and to draw more people to the gala, St. James was housing an art exhibit by G. Harvey.

When the conversation in the entryway simply became too boring to stand, and I was stuffed with stuffing and turkey and deviled eggs and pumpkin pie cups, I wandered off on my own to look at the art exhibit. I walked slowly, enjoying the feel of the silk of my dress against my skin, the chill of the delicate crystal glass in my hand. Though it was boring, it was still exciting to pretend I was
somebody
. At least my peek into this life had assured me it wasn’t entirely preferable to what I had now, with my small house and Colton and Grace.

I was staring at one of the large prints when I felt someone approach me from behind. I half-turned, a smile on my face since I was expecting Rafael, and found Matthias instead. His tawny eyes stared unblinkingly into mine, unnerving me until he smiled agreeably and took a step so we were side by side.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. “Harvey has a real touch. Nice guy, too.”

I looked sharply over at him, wondering if I would ever cease to be amazed by the casualness the Fallen affected when talking about such amazing things. If I ever
did
become a Fallen, I wondered if I could have such nonchalance about such things.

Matthias seemed to notice my expression, and grinned self depreciatingly. “Rachel still gets that same look, all the time. Forgive me. Though Rachel and Naomi have been with us these years, we are still not used to censoring ourselves. It’s rare for us to keep prolonged company with humans, such as the case with you or St. James.”