Chloe's Guardian

By Cheri Gillard

Chloe’s boyfriend cheats on her and she just wants to die. But it’s not so easy to end it all. An amazing winged creature swoops in and saves her mid-jump. The angelic intervention must be a sign her troubles are over! But things only get worse. Missing her plane, losing her passport, crashing her car are nothing compared to when gangbangers jump her on a dark, empty street. She’s too paralyzed with fear to even scream for help. But her amazing half-angel creature reappears and saves her again—flying her right up through the heavens!

But they soar directly into more trouble. Horatius, her Nephilim savior, has a heap of his own problems. His beer habit doesn’t help a bit when he has to fight against his demon father, who targets Chloe with his evil rage. Chloe needs to be protected, and Horatius transports her to sixteenth century Scotland to hide her. But a curse renders him powerless and medieval Highlanders kidnap Chloe. Separated from Horatius, she has to depend on her own wits to escape and survive, and then negotiate with demons to get back to her own time and life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheri Gillard
• Release date: May 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311214058

Cheri Gillard

Award-winning author Cheri Gillard has been a freelance writer and editor for twenty-five years, working for several publishing houses and companies as a writer or editor for projects, books, magazines, and curricula. She earned the coveted IndieB.R.A.G Medallion for "Chloe's Guardian," Book 1 of the Nephilim Redemption series, as well as winning several other awards for her fiction over her writing career. For several years, she was a judge for the Paul Gillette Memorial fiction writing contest. Before writing, she was an obstetric and NICU registered nurse, but she hung up her nurse's cap when she gave birth to quadruplets. She blogs about life raising quadruplets and shares photos at cheri_and_quads on Instagram. She lives with her family in Colorado.

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A Note to Readers About Suicide

Dear Reader:

This is a work of fiction, a story I made up. An attempted suicide is depicted within the story. My intent is not to minimize the seriousness or tragedy of suicide. Sadly, suicide is one of the leading causes of death among pre-teen to college-aged youths. If you are thinking about suicide, please tell someone you trust about your feelings—a parent, a friend, a teacher. Make an appointment with your family doctor or talk to your school counselor. Ask your clergy or spiritual advisor for help. If you don’t feel that the people around you are able to support you, there are groups of caring people who can and want to come alongside you. Call or text 988 (in the USA), text TALK to 741741, or search online to quickly find phone numbers and organizations that are in place and waiting by the phone right now to help you. You don’t have to be alone.

Click here—or here—if you want some help getting started finding help.

Sincerely,

Cheri Gillard

For my family, who listened to chapters around the fire pit on cool evenings. Who listened again during midterms and finals week. And during jet lag after returning from studying abroad. And after already hearing it three times before.

And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied, that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of the heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: ‘Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.’

From the Sixth Book of Enoch

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ hierarchies? and even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.

From Duino Elegies, Rainer Maria Rilke

CHAPTER 1

Oh man, is he ever going to be sorry. She’d own his attention now, for sure. And he’d forget about Rebecca. Thinking of that, Chloe forgot not to look and she glanced down. A blast of fear and dizziness nearly knocked her off, but she wasn’t ready yet. She almost bolted from the edge back to safety. She pulled in a deep breath and tried to calm down. Her heart pounded so hard, she felt it in her ears. While shifting her weight from one foot to the other and trying to empty her mind to be like the open sky in front of her, she reminded herself the fall would only last a few seconds.

At the bottom of the cliff, the sea rocked back and forth, like she was doing. The water churned and released the stink of dead fish, even all the way up to where Chloe teetered. Her fidgeting knocked a rock loose. It plunged down, down, until it silently shattered against a boulder on the shore.

Those boulders were sharp and jagged. Ugh. She was looking again. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to look down. But when she closed her eyes, Todd invaded her thoughts. And he brought Rebecca with him, embracing her in the same way as when Chloe had walked in on them.

She forced her eyes open, made them stare ahead. She chewed her lip, clenched and unclenched her fists.

The pain in her heart would end as soon as she worked up the guts to jump. Then she’d stop seeing them together.

Jump. It will be better. The voice in her head stole her hope. It confused her and made her give up. She lifted her face toward the sky to keep from seeing anything below. The breeze chilled the tears on her cheeks. It hurt. Living hurt.

Will you think of me after this, Todd? she thought. A bird, hovering midair on an updraft in front of her, screeched then dive-bombed down to the sea. It was a long way down there. Wait. Wait. What am I doing? This isn’t going to fix things. If I die, Rebecca wins. And I don’t want to die!

She spun to move back from the rim, suddenly certain this was the stupidest idea she’d ever had. But one foot slipped on the loose gravel. It flew out from beneath her, leaving her on one bent leg. Her center of balance tilted toward the sky. Her arms windmilled as she desperately reached toward the land. Time froze. It hit her she could actually be killed. She locked her eyes on the grass, begging the solid ground to pull her back. In spite of every cell wanting to live now, her other foot left the ground. She tumbled into a freefall, straight down toward the churning sea below.

***

The blow to Horatius’ head was like a cannon ball. A light as brilliant as God flashed behind his eyes then his vision disappeared altogether. Before he could think, he crashed to the ground, his face smashed in the mud. Felled like a giant oak. When the stunning blow began to recede, he realized several men were all over him. Fists were pelting him, rocks smashing against him, hilts beating him. When he tried to rise up onto his hands and knees, a club knocked his forearms awry, sending him back into the mire. Again he attempted to get up, spitting sludge from his teeth. The shadow he’d fallen into was a thick puddle splashing with icy rain and bits of hail. When pulsing lightning illuminated the night, he saw his own blood swirling in the turbulent pool.

In spite of the men on his back wrestling to pull him back down, he regained his hands and knees, panting, bracing. Just when he tensed to spring up, a burning flash of pain drove deeply through his back. Electric shots of fire surged down his spine then his limbs disappeared. Once again he sprawled into the mud. This time, he could not move.

Hands flipped him over. On his back, the rain slapped his face. He sputtered for air. With a hard squint his double vision focused. A man stooped over him. The blond head was against the backdrop of black sky; glowing raindrops spewed down around him. His face was lit by the iron lantern held out over Horatius. Horatius tried to reach for him, to lift his hand off the ground, but his arm wouldn’t obey his thoughts.

The man regarded the length of Horatius stretched out at his feet. His laughter was filled with hate and satisfaction.

Please? Horatius thought. He couldn’t think. A hard kick in the ribs was the only answer. A bone popped. Breath locked in his lungs. The air snagged on his throat.

Should I tie him up? Contempt permeated the speaker’s words.

He isna going to move, I tell you.

Dinna kill him, the blond man said. I want him awake. Draw him up. He flipped back his heavy, sodden hair and pointed. There. Hang him there over the stone archway of the castle wall.

Men grabbed Horatius and dragged him. They raked him across the rocky ground. He wanted to break free, but his legs were useless, his arms no better. Why can’t I move?

Someone coiled a coarse rope around his neck while his arms dangled limply at his sides. His limbs would not respond. Think! He couldn’t pull his thoughts together through the dark quagmire. He should have been able to fight them off. What has happened? Why was this happening? Was I poisoned? Cursed? Something was horribly wrong. These were mere men. He shouldn’t be vulnerable to their feeble assaults.

The noose tightened and pulled his shoulders off the ground. The pressure in his head exploded. His airway was being crushed. With each tug on the rope his body jerked higher and higher. His eyes bulged wide.

Lightning flashed again. Castle turrets throbbed in the ominous sky. Four men had the other end of the noose that was slung over an archway, and the four heaved together. Pull! Pull! Pull! they cried. The man with stringy, yellow hair stood near Horatius as the rope lifted him off the ground.

The blond man’s mouth moved, but Horatius couldn’t hear him over the roar in his head. His brain would surely explode from the strain. His vision darkened again. His lungs gasped. There was something he needed to remember. The man reached high and behind Horatius and yanked a knife from his spine. A fiery agony seared through his torso, and his body convulsed with a pain that obliterated his awareness.

Without warning the rope went slack and Horatius crumpled to the ground, limbs flung wide and useless. Air wheezed through his strangled throat as his lungs fought for breath. The pressure receded from his face, the roar faded in his ears, his eyes shrank back.

The blond man appeared above him again and bent down. His lantern flickered yellow in his close, probing eyes. And Horatius saw it this time. Terror eclipsed his pain.

This man was possessed by Satarel. The demon. His father—his father who was bent on destroying Horatius. He needed to look away, but he was paralyzed. He had no way to keep from being seen, from being detected by Satarel.

But what does it matter? Satarel has already found me.

The blond man yelled over his shoulder in a voice that held the echo of Satarel’s own voice. Seamus, go get the hatchet. I will relish taking his head now.

Running footsteps came toward them then, slapping through the sloppy puddles.

MacKay, what goes on here?

It’s Will Keith. The name came, through the mud in his brain. Will’s voice became ferocious.

God’s teeth! What have you done, MacKay? Keith dropped to Horatius’ side and struggled with the corkscrew of rope around his neck, trying to loosen it.

Horace, ’tis William. Do you hear me? Can you speak?

Horatius tried to answer, but only a rasp scratched through his constricted throat.

William was suddenly lifted away, pulled off his feet by men on either side of him. He roared with indignation.

"Unhand me, you fools! I am laird here. MacKay, stop this now or your life is forfeit."

You are in no position to threaten me, Keith, Angus MacKay shouted over the rain, this time in his own voice and holding less confidence. Mayhap I will take this castle from you. I can be laird of Dunnottar. But I will not show any favoritism for this mongrel, as you did. I will make him pay. He stole me betrothed! He suppressed a sob.

A new man sauntered over, carrying a sword and swinging it around casually in circles. Just cut off his head now and be done with it, he said to MacKay. Use my weapon.

Horatius knew that voice. From long ago. And recently, too. A giant among men, he towered over the one called Angus MacKay, just like Horatius would, if he could stand up. It’s coming. Bits and pieces. In the muddle of confusion and pain, memories started to rush in.

Panahasi. Of course. My brother. Now he remembered. He had to get up before Panahasi beheaded him, or it would be Horatius’ extinction, his complete and utter annihilation.

Other fragments of memory flashed as he fought to find his thoughts. A woman’s face, her body, a tryst, whiskey. They all swam into his mind and clogged his understanding. The recollections were hard to sort, difficult to piece together. I should do something. What am I supposed to do?

Panahasi shouted into the sky, "Maybe you won’t let me be the one to behead him, Father, but it does not mean I cannot do this!" Using both hands to grip the hilt, he lifted his sword high and plunged it down, ramming it through Horatius’ chest.

Flesh tore, bone snapped. A flash of light blinded Horatius again. The sword ripped back out. His lifeblood sprayed from the gape, chasing the honed steel out of his torso.

Finish it, Father, Panahasi yelled at MacKay/Satarel. Time is wasting. Then Panahasi smacked his bloody blade against MacKay/Satarel’s sword. MacKay jumped back as though threatened. Satarel had lost control of his human host for a moment. Panahasi laughed at the weakling. Jumpy now? Losing your nerve? Do not fight what’s going on inside you, boy. Think of your fury. He took your woman. Give yourself over to the power.

MacKay grew angrier, giving Satarel greater control. He gripped his sword hilt with new determination. He looked down at Horatius, and his eyes hardened against him. MacKay’s own countenance disappeared, replaced by evil.

You are a fool to think you can win redemption, Horatius came Satarel voice through MacKay’s mouth. "They threw me out of Paradise. Rejected me outright. They will not let you enter or dwell there—you, a disgusting half-breed."

Darkness tunneled Horatius’ sight. He couldn’t keep listening. His father’s words faded. All sounds became muffled and distant. His existence began to collapse through the gaping hole in his chest.

"Horatius, someone called. Then again. Horatius." The plural voice of pure love spoke into his essence. It was music. It was beauty. Everything hopeful, loving. They, the Creator of all things, was speaking to him, pulling him out of his stupor.

His memory returned. He’d left his father’s realm to seek redemption. Though he’d always failed, he was determined to change, to please They.

I must transfigure!

Plasma spurted into his lungs.

Now, or I won’t make it.

His eyes went blind.

Father will decapitate me.

Cells began to shut down.

I have to transfigure.

His heart sputtered. It missed a beat. Then another.

Did he have the strength? Could he do it? If They had bothered intervening, there must be hope for him. A chance for redemption. My father must be wrong about me.

He gathered every ounce of will that his mangled being could muster and he concentrated. Air gurgled through the blood in his throat. Death was becoming impatient. Horatius couldn’t think, couldn’t focus enough. The fluids were drowning him. His heart was failing.

As Death began to embrace his body, MacKay/Satarel screamed and raised high the sword. The arc of the swing hit its apex, and the blade began to drop.

Horatius strained beneath the pain, the suffocation, the agony.

He grabbed hold of a tiny thought, an extended hope. He held on for dear life, just for that split second.

And he transfigured.

CHAPTER 2

Transfiguring was like shedding the weight of the entire world. Power coursed through him like a jolt of ecstasy. Nothing felt as freeing as changing from weighty matter to pure energy. His physical wounds disappeared. His strength magnified to unfathomable extremes.

Both the seen and the unseen dimensions were visible to him now. Next to him, Satarel’s essence straddled two worlds while he continued to possess MacKay’s corporeal body. Panahasi, who remained in the seen dimension, the human’s world, was screaming vile words at MacKay/Satarel. Panahasi’s face was spurting blood. Horatius had no time to wonder why his father and brother were fighting each other through the boundary between realms, or why neither was following him into the Unseen Realm.

For that brief moment while Panahasi distracted Satarel and kept him anchored in the Chronos Band, Horatius flew from the cliff top. He left Dunnottar Castle and transferred into the Corridor—the realm of the Celestials.

The second he materialized in the Corridor, a flaming arrow shot through his back. The arrow of fire exited his chest, taking with it a portion of his power as it left him. He spun and faced three Fallen, all of whom were under Satarel’s authority. Two wielded their flaming swords in menacing arcs. The archer fitted another blazing arrow into his bow string.

Horatius generated a ball of fire, launched it at the archer, and shot away through the heavens. He zipped by two other battling Celestials—one good and one evil—fighting for a soul in Dunnottar within the corporeal dimension. Focused on their own struggles, they ignored Horatius.

Satarel’s men chased after him, spreading out to come up on either side of him. Through their common thoughts, Horatius heard their venomous ideas. They plotted their strategy—and visualized his annihilation. Another arrow shot past him, biting his side. If they hit him one more time, he’d lose too much power. He cursed the vexing demons and launched another fire ball at them over his shoulder. Leave me the hell alone, you damnable pillocks!

He continued his frenetic ascent, nearing the High Corridor even though it was off-limits. The Escorts going toward the Great Entrance could not be interrupted by the likes of him. But he needed some of the Pure to distract the demons in order to make his escape.

Where is everyone? Why is the Corridor abandoned? The battles must have been extreme in other sectors. The Celestial Chatter crowding into his thoughts was excessive. Conflict was everywhere.

Darryn of the Gate suddenly appeared and charged at him, his face twisted with indignation.

What are you doing here, Horatius? You are not cleared for this sector. Or any sector within light-years!

Horatius passed him, not surrendering any speed. Darryn turned and fell in beside him, easily keeping pace.

It’s my father. I need help. Where is everyone?

Oh, dear. Oh, dear, Darryn keened. I received no word you planned to come through here.

"I didn’t plan to, Darryn, Horatius snapped. This is urgent. Where are Baraqiel and Ra’amiel?"

Michael called them. A bomb detonated in Sector One-fifty-three. Thousands of prayers poured in. Michael wanted greater infiltration. Never mind that! You cannot be here. You are flying too close to the Gate. Oh, dear. You cannot disrupt the Escorts.

"Give me an ounce of credit. I know to stay away from the Gate. When you see Satarel, slow him down for me, would you?

"See him? Satarel cannot come here. And you cannot stay! Have you completely lost your mind? You are in flagrant violation of the most fundamental laws of High Corridor conduct."

All right, all right. I’m going. Would you give me a boost?

Oh, dear. Oh, dear, Darryn said again, but it didn’t keep him from throwing a force of energy around Horatius that erased him from the sector.

Horatius reappeared along the edge of the corporeal world—the Chronos Band. He needed to disappear into Time and transfigure back into his human form before Satarel tracked him.

But Satarel’s toxic thoughts surged into his mind. He, too, was in the new sector, following too closely.

Horatius had to act fast. He flew toward the Chronos Band, but didn’t cross into the corporeal world. He glazed along its edge, racing through a non-substantial tropical forest, passing through trees in the Corridor—lush green blurs that mirrored more substantial copies on the other side of the Band. When he came out of the transparent jungle, one of Satarel’s henchmen was waiting for him.

Horatius spat a forbidden, disgusting curse. He swerved away and transferred to a new dimension. The demons coordinated their movements to follow and converge on his new location. I must stop thinking! Impulse must determine my actions. He couldn’t let them read his mind. So he just reacted.

He transferred into the Chronos Band where time existed. He needed to land and transfigure before the demons tracked him.

But Satarel was right behind him, following him into the band of Time.

Horatius shot out of the Chronos Band again. Without thinking, he charged back in, skipping across the surface of Time like a flat stone on a pond. Doubling back the way he had come, he exited again, weaving in and out, absent of any pattern. The demons were starting to become confused. They were having trouble perceiving him. His impetuous behavior was working.

He reentered the Band and flew back to Dunnottar, which now existed in a different century. The empty castle sat cold and quiet on the headland. Entire walls lay on their sides, their stones scattered about the courtyard. The Unseen Realm above the fortress was empty now, the Celestials no longer battling for the souls within, for they had all perished and were long gone. Everyone Horatius had known was dead.

He left the Band to keep the trail convoluted. He re-entered. This time the castle was dilapidated even worse, with the whole hill carpeted in grass. The skeletal walls of the buildings stood like bombed-out shells. Their floors were green turf now. He soared near the old bailey by the castle keep where he’d nearly lost his head, just minutes ago by his perception, but eons by the Band’s measure. He couldn’t hear Satarel in the Celestial Chatter now. If they were in different eras, they wouldn’t hear each other. Good. He’d eluded the demon. At least for the moment. It was time to transfigure, before his location could be discovered.

He flew around the south ledge of the cliff to find a place to land and change into his human form and hide, undetectable.

By Hades, what is that?

A person was falling through the air, plummeting toward the rocks hundreds of feet below.

Is this my chance to work toward redemption? They, the Creator of all things, spoke to me, after all. There must be hope for my eternal existence.

He swooped down beneath the human.

A lovely woman, he couldn’t help thinking as his hands closed around her waist. He felt an unexpected rush of compassion for her, and with it an unprecedented desire to protect her. What unmitigated disaster would have brought her to this moment when her fragile human life was tossed away?

Gently, he took her back up through the air, his enormous wings beating around them both like a protective canopy of light. On top of the headland, he lowered her onto the turf inside one of the roofless stone buildings.

While still hovering in the air, he reluctantly let go of her. Her legs didn’t hold her and she crumpled onto the grass. He levitated close above her, wanting only to stay, to ask her why, to make sure she was okay.

She lifted her tear-stained face and their eyes locked. They both reached out at the same moment and their fingers touched. Something supernatural passed between them. Horatius could see abundant unclaimed love, fierce loyalty, heartbreaking yearning. He was feeling her emotions.

A mystical communion between their beings held them linked in a timeless moment. He experienced things he’d never felt before. Acceptance and admiration. The rage he always felt somehow evaporated. Her expression suggested that she, too, was being deeply affected.

A moment—or maybe it was an hour—later she whispered, Am I in heaven?

He chuckled. You’re still here. And you’re safe now.

"You’re…you’re…beautiful."

She pulled back her hand to swipe away a tear.

The cessation of contact woke him from his trance. What was he thinking? He had to get out of there. Satarel would come any second and kill him. Kill them both.

With not a second to spare, he shot away, abandoning the girl, as well as some fate undiscovered. At least she had a chance now, now that he’d saved her from a wasted death.

He dove for a cliff cave where he would transfigure before Satarel read his location. Though he knew he chose the safe, responsible action—to flee while he still could—he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forsaking some foreordained element of his destiny. And a deep sorrow settled over him as he imploded back into his human form.

CHAPTER 3

Chloe was sitting on grass in the ruins of a roofless, dilapidated building. But…but I fell off! How did I get here? The pressure still burned on her waist where the hot, thick hands had just held her.

She’d lifted her head and his radiant face was inches away. He glowed. Light oozed from his essence. He hovered in the air over her, his wings pumping. A smile played on his indescribably beautiful lips. He was terrifying. Fabulous. Sublime.

They both reached out to each other and their fingers touched. She felt the power of hope and comfort flow into her veins like a drug. His eyes twinkled with—she wasn’t sure—love? Yes, in that second she inexplicably knew what selfless love felt like. His touch gave her life. She saw into his soul. Pure acceptance rushed around her like holy fingers and held her. They connected in some supernatural way words could never express. Something other.Then he spoke to her, his voice sounding like a god, or God himself.

And then he was gone. She sat stunned, frozen, unable to form more than one thought: Oh. My. God!

She came out of her shock and somehow got to her feet. Stumbling to a crumbled window opening, she pleaded, Wait, please! Come back! She leaned out the hole in the wall as far as she could but saw no trace of the glowing being.

Chloe turned and staggered to what had once been a doorway in the stone wall. She could barely walk with her legs shaking so badly. The raw blisters from her new sandals didn’t help. She lurched in the direction he seemed to have gone, but it was impossible to know for sure, he’d vanished so quickly. She crept near the edge again and stood watching the clouds over the sea, relishing the lingering peace holding her like a magical hug. Please. Come back, she whispered as a prayer. I need you to come back.

The experience from his touch was indescribable. Not only did she realize she was loved, but the being’s inner feelings had been exposed to her. She’d seen his goodness, his pain, his yearning. In the moment they connected, something deeper than reality—no, so deep it was the true reality—had been made known to her. She’d seen truth. She’d felt love. She’d connected to Goodness.

She had to tell her friends. She had to tell Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn! Tricia, Jessie! Did you see that? Did you see what just happened to me? She hopped away from the edge, plucking off her sandals. Kaitlyn, where are you?

Her friends spilled from a building’s doorway on the far side of the plateau, looking for her, scanning the ruins.

Here. I’m here. Over here, Chloe called, waving her arms. Tell me you saw what just happened to me!

Tricia saw her first and started running. Jessie and Kaitlyn followed close behind.

What happened? What’s wrong? Tricia shouted.

You’re scaring us, girl. What’s going on? Jessie added.

Sorry, we were behind that wall so we didn’t see anything, Kaitlyn said.

"There was a thing, Chloe stammered. She flapped her arms. It flew or floated. It soared. He zoomed away over there. Or vanished. I don’t know. He was huge. And he glowed bright like a…a…a mini sun or something."

Like a UFO? Kaitlyn said. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the sky.

I jumped off the cliff and an angel or some—

"You what? Tricia shrieked and grabbed Chloe’s shoulders. Look at me!"

Well, I fell really. But I changed my—doesn’t matter. I—

"Are you serious? What do you mean you jumped off the cliff? Tricia screamed. No guy is worth that, Chloe. She shook Chloe. Look at me. Todd isn’t worth that."

Chloe stopped searching the sky and finally focused on Tricia. Forget the jumping part. I’m fine. But listen. Suddenly, this thing—like an angel, I swear—he caught me and put me back up here on the ground. It was so incredible, I wish you could’ve felt it, too. It was like a miracle!

Todd like really broke you, Clo. This is so sad. You’re delusional now. Jessie combed through Chloe’s hair searching for a wound. Did you hit your head? Where does it hurt? I don’t see like blood or anything.

Chloe brushed aside Jessie’s hands. "Stop. I’m fine. Really. But listen. He touched me and I felt…I can’t even describe it! Love. Peace. Joy. Oh, so much joy. And hope. I mean, like hope so powerful, I could taste it. Oh, guys! Didn’t you see anything? A bright light even?"

It was a ghost from the castle. I feel it. Somebody died and their spirit isn’t at rest, Kaitlyn said. Maybe they loved someone and they can’t move on until they can tell them.

Chloe grabbed Kaitlyn and wrapped her in a tight hug. I’m never going to be the same, Kaitlyn, Chloe said. I mean, I’m changed forever. Can you feel the hope rub off me? It’s so awesome, I’m sure there’s enough to rub off.

Like if what she has is contagious, we’d better back way off and not breathe it in, Jessie warned.

Tricia said, Chloe, listen to me. If you have suicidal thoughts, we have to tell Mr. Pozorski.

I think she’s got like a fever. That’s what’s making her hallucinate. Jessie had her hand on Chloe’s forehead. Do you have some Motrin? Jessie asked Tricia.

I bet it’s a spirit who’s trying to get a message to someone they love, Kaitlyn said.

Tricia asked gently, Do you have a plan? Are you thinking of hurting yourself, hon? Are you thinking about death?

You guys have to believe me, Chloe implored, ignoring Jessie’s hand on her forehead. I’m not making it up.

"She already said she jumped. Like it can’t get more planned out than that," Jessie said.

The unsettled souls are always doomed to linger until whatever went wrong in life is resolved, Kaitlyn said.

Maybe we should just take her to a hospital, Tricia said.

They would lock her up for sure, Jessie said.

"You guys, I am fine. I’m telling the truth. I was touched by something supernatural." Chloe returned to the cliff edge to see if she could find the angel again.

Don’t go out there! Jessie cried out. Come back here now. I mean it. Like, right now. Come over here by us!

Kaitlyn slowly walked up next to Chloe and took her hand. I bet it was a beautiful ghost. I believe you. She held up her other hand in the ASL sign for I love you.

Kaitlyn, stop it, Tricia said. Chloe is suicidal. There was no ghost. There was no angel.

"You think it was a UFO then?" Kaitlyn didn’t let go of Chloe’s hand when she turned back to Tricia and so pulled her away from the edge. Chloe easily went with her because the angel was clearly gone. And she didn’t want to scare Jessie any worse. She just wanted them to believe her.

No, Kaitlyn! Forget about a UFO, Tricia said. And quit playing along. I think we should go back. Coming was supposed to help. We’ve only made it worse.

She’s hallucinating, Jessie said. Maybe she needs sugar. Have you got like a candy bar or something?

Kaitlyn pulled out an amber straw from her purse and held it up. I have a blackberry honey stick.

I don’t need any sugar. Please, you’ve got to believe me. It wasn’t a hallucination. I felt it. I was going to jump but he saved me. How would a hallucination make me feel like this?

"I can’t believe you wanted to jump off the cliff. And because of Todd?" Tricia said.

Of course because of Todd, Jessie screeched. "But she didn’t jump, or she wouldn’t be here. She isn’t thinking straight. Eat the honey. When we get back, I’m finding Todd and like throwing him off a cliff."

Oh, that won’t be good. He’ll die and his ghost will forever walk—

Quit with the ghost crap, Kaitlyn, Tricia snapped.

Yeah, it’s not going to help anything, Jessie said. Todd cheated on her with Rebecca. He like totally betrayed her. He’s been cheating for who knows how long, sneaking time with that skank, kissing her all night, lying to Chloe, making her look like a total—

Jessie! Tricia and Kaitlyn shouted at the same time.

No, I think this means it’s going to be okay between Todd and me, Chloe said. We do need to go back. I need to talk to him. I want to share this with him. I’m sure he will believe me. Chloe headed across the grassy plateau to the steps leading off the cliff top.

She’s too fragile to face what that idiot’s done to her.

I can hear you, Chloe called back, but she didn’t care that Jessie thought she was having a breakdown. An angel had just touched her and it had to mean things were all good. It meant Todd did still love her and she’d just misunderstood and there was a good explanation for what she thought she’d seen when she walked in on them. The love and joy flowing through her couldn’t possibly be there if everything wasn’t good. A true miracle had happened. She could see the truth now.

It was your idea to bring her here, Jessie, Tricia scolded.

Don’t worry, Cello. I believe something amazing happened, Kaitlyn said in her lilting voice chasing after Chloe. We’ll figure out together what it means.

Jessie rolled her eyes. "We know what it means. She’s dating a lowlife jerk who deserves to have every single hair on his body plucked out. One at a time. Slowly. While like every single person we know watches."

CHAPTER 4

Tricia hurtled the Volvo around a bend on A90 motorway while Jessie sat shotgun. The rental car was from Tricia’s mom, Mrs. Tao—one of the parents who’d come on the trip as a chaperone. Jessie held her phone in front of her like a compass and watched it track their route.

Kaitlyn and Chloe sat in the back. Kaitlyn hummed softly, twirling her white-blond ponytail while looking out the window.

Chloe held up her cell, lifting and tilting it, moving it around the back seat, hoping some bars would pop up so she could call Todd. Come on. Why won’t you work? Lame phone plan.

I can’t believe you’ve got service. I can’t get a thing, Chloe said to Jessie.

"Even if you had seen an angel—and I’m not saying you did—Todd wouldn’t deserve to know about it, Jessie said. You ought to forget about that lowlife cheat."

Mine isn’t working either, Kaitlyn said sympathetically.

Chloe ignored Jessie and tilted her phone another way while picturing the scene when she and Todd would reconcile, when he would take her back into his arms, and they would realize it was all just a misunderstanding. Chloe couldn’t help but smile and relax into the seat. The relief was so strong now, knowing it was all going to be okay. She pulled up her legs and hugged her knees. She looked down at her toes, noticing she needed to repaint her nails. And that her feet were bare.

Oh! I forgot my sandals. Can we go back?

Like how do you forget your sandals? You shouldn’t go barefoot so much. You’re like going to catch a disease.

If you saw a ghost, you’d forget your shoes, too, Jessie, Kaitlyn said, taking Chloe’s hand and pulling it in close.

We’re almost to Aberdeen, and we only have a half hour before rehearsal, Tricia said. There isn’t time.

I’ll share with you, Kaitlyn said. Do you want a left or right one? She held one of her flip-flops in the air.

Chloe squeezed Kaitlyn’s hand back. You keep both. Thanks though.

Kaitlyn put the flip-flop back on. If you change your mind…

While the tires hummed against the highway, inspiration hit Chloe.

She announced, I need to spend time with Todd. Today. The day I was touched by something magical. We’ll need to talk. I don’t think I’m going to be able to play tonight.

Jessie spun in her seat and gawked at her. Tricia stared at her in the rearview mirror with opened-mouth shock. Kaitlyn squeezed her hand tighter.

You have to play, Tricia screeched.

Are you like crazy?

Watch the road! Chloe yelled. You’re on the wrong side again. Tricia jerked the car back over. Jessie jumped back into co-pilot position with her phone app pointing at the road, like that would hold the car steady.

Chloe, Tricia said after a second to collect herself, hon, we know you’re hurt. Devastated even. Not thinking clearly. But we didn’t come all this way for you to skip the final round. We need you.

We’ll have to change our name if we have only three players, Kaitlyn said.

Skip the orchestra performance this afternoon if you need to—

"Like that will fly with Mr. Pozorski," Jessie said without taking her eyes from her phone screen.

—but don’t bail on us, Tricia continued. "Please. Not now. This means too much. Don’t let Todd steal this from us. From you."

Jessie abandoned her navigation long enough to twist in her seat again to look at Chloe. What does a trumpet player know anyway? You should have never settled for brass. Loser button pusher. You’re better than that. If you want a passionate, caring lover, stick with a string player. Like Ember. I’m so in love. And their bass rocks! She’d had a crush on Ember since the first day of orchestra in ninth grade.

I’m not looking for a new person, Jessie. And I’m not going to skip orchestra. Todd will be playing.

You have to play with the quartet. That’s all there is to it, Tricia said. She focused back at the road like it was The End of Discussion.

But I have to be available if that’s our only chance to talk. The rest of the day is packed.

If he wasn’t such a jerk, he’d like work around the schedule to talk. But really, you found him with that—

Jessie, Tricia cut in. She mouthed something to Jessie Chloe couldn’t see.

But it’s already bad, Jessie poorly whispered. "Whatever I say won’t