Halo

“Actually,” I began indignantly, “we were just—”

“Heading outside,” Xavier cut in. I opened my mouth to argue, but he shot me a sharp look. “It’s their house, we play by their rules,” he murmured. As he steered me out of the room, I noticed Ivy looking at him with a new respect.

Outside, we sat on the garden swing with our arms around each other. Xavier disentangled himself long enough to roll up his shirtsleeves and then throw Phantom’s frayed tennis ball across the grass. Phantom always retrieved but then refused to relinquish, so the soggy ball had to be pried from between his teeth. Xavier stretched back to throw the ball again and then rinsed his hands under the garden tap. I breathed in his clean, woody scent. All I could think was that we had survived our first test relatively unscathed. Xavier had been true to his word and had not allowed himself to be intimidated. On the contrary, he had held his ground with unswerving conviction. Not only did I admire him more than ever, but I also relished that he was in my house, this time as a legitimate guest rather than an intruder.

“I could stay here all night,” I murmured into his shirt.

“You know what’s so strange?” he said.

“What?”

“How normal this feels.”

He twisted my hair around his fingers and I saw, reflected in his gesture, our lives entwined.

“Ivy was being dramatic when she said there’s no turning back,” I said.

“It’s okay, Beth. I don’t want my life to go back to the way it was before I met you. I thought I had it all, but really I was missing something. I feel like a completely different person now. This might sound corny, but I feel like I’ve been asleep for a long time, and you’ve just woken me up…” He paused. “I can’t believe I just said that. What are you doing to me?”

“Turning you into a poet,” I teased.

“Me?” Xavier growled in mock anger. “Poetry’s for girls.”

“You were great back there. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself.”

“Thank you. Who knows, maybe a few decades from now your brother and sister might actually like me.”

“I wish we had that long.” I sighed and immediately regretted the words. They had just slipped out. I could have kicked myself for being so stupid; what a perfect way to ruin the mood.

Xavier was so silent, I wondered if he’d even heard me. Then I felt his warm fingers under my chin, and he tilted my face up so we were looking eye to eye. He leaned down and kissed me softly, the sweet taste of his lips lingering after he pulled away. He bent forward and murmured in my ear, “We will find a way. That’s a promise.”

“You can’t know that,” I said. “This is different. ..”

“Beth.” Xavier put a finger against my lips. “I don’t break my promises.”

“But…”

“No buts… just trust me.”

When Xavier left, no one wanted to go to bed even though it was already past midnight. Gabriel we knew was an insomniac. It wasn’t unusual for him or Ivy to stay up till the early hours of the morning. But this time all three of us were restless and alert. Ivy suggested a hot drink and was already pulling milk out of the fridge when Gabriel cut in.

“I have a better idea,” he said. “I think we all deserve to unwind.”

Ivy and I guessed his meaning immediately and didn’t even bother trying to hide our excitement.

“Do you mean right now?” Ivy said, the milk carton almost slipping from her grasp.

“Of course, right now. But we have to hurry; it’ll be light in a few hours.”

Ivy let out a squeal. “Just give us a moment to change! We’ll be right back.”

I too could hardly contain my anticipation. This would be the perfect way to express the exhilaration I was feeling about the direction my relationship with Xavier had taken. It had been so long since I’d had a chance to really stretch my wings. My cliff-diving performance for Xavier hardly qualified as exercise. If anything, it had only served to whet my appetite and remind me how stiff and cramped my wings really felt. I had tried spreading them out and floating around my bedroom with the curtains pulled tight shut, but I’d only crashed into the ceiling fan and bumped my legs on the furniture. As I changed into a loose T-shirt, I felt a bolt of adrenaline shoot through my body. I was going to really savor this predawn flight. I went downstairs, and the three of us made our way silently out to the black Jeep parked in the garage.

It was a different experience driving along the coastal road that unfurled like a ribbon in the early morning. The air was fragrant with the scent of pine, and the trees were tipped with green. The sea looked solid, like a velvet mantle that had been draped over part of the earth. Along the residential streets, the shutters were all closed, and the streets were deserted as if the occupants had suddenly packed up and evacuated. The township, when we drove through it, was also deserted. I’d never seen Venus Cove asleep. I was so used to seeing people everywhere: riding bikes, eating fries on the pier, or buying jewelry from local craftsmen who set up their stalls on the pavement. But at that hour of the morning, there was a stillness that made me imagine we were the only living beings in the world. I wondered why people referred to the early hours of the morning as “ungodly” when in fact that was the very best time to connect with the forces above.

Gabriel drove for about an hour along a straight stretch of road, then turned onto a bumpy scrub-lined track that seemed to wind toward the sky like a corkscrew. I knew where we were. Gabriel was taking the route to White Mountain, named because of the snow that sometimes coated its peak, despite its coastal location. You could see the mountain’s outline from Venus Cove, like a pale gray monolith rising against a star-studded night sky.

There was fog up on the mountain, and the higher we drove the thicker it became. When Gabriel could no longer distinguish the road ahead he parked and we climbed out. We were standing on a narrow and winding road that continued uphill; tall fir trees, like soldiers, surrounded us on all sides, almost completely blocking out the sky. The tips of the trees were studded with beads of dew, and we could see our breath materialized in the cold air when we exhaled. The ground underfoot was sodden with leaves and bark, muffling our footsteps. Moss-covered branches and tendrils of ferns brushed against our faces. We veered off the road, disappearing into the dense forest. Shafts of moonlight sliced through the canopy in places, like little spotlights illuminating our way. The trees whispered softly to one another and we could hear gentle rustling and the scampering of small paws. Despite the darkness none of us felt afraid. We knew the mountain was completely secluded. No one would find us there.

Ivy was the first to cast off her jacket and do what we were all waiting to do. She stood facing us, her back straight and her head thrown back so that her pale hair cascaded like a golden nimbus around her face and shoulders. In the moonlight she glowed like a lamp, and her sculpted figure looked like marble, white and flawless. Her body curved perfectly, each limb as long and elegant as a sapling.

“See you up there,” she said like an excited child. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then sprinted away from us. She ran swiftly and nimbly through the trees, her feet barely touching the ground and gathered speed until she was almost a blur. Then she became suddenly airborne. There was a breathtaking artistry in it — Ivy made it look as easy as a swan taking flight. Her wings, slender but powerful, sliced through the loose T-shirt she wore and reared Heavenward like living entities. The wings that looked as solid as stone when stationary shone like satin in full flight.

I broke into a run and felt my own wings begin to pulse and then tear through their cage of cloth. Once released, their beating grew faster, and I too was lifted into the air to join Ivy. We flew in synchronization for a while, gliding slowly upward, then dipping suddenly, and finally coming to land on the soles of our feet on the branches of a nearby tree. From there we looked down at Gabriel with radiant faces. Ivy bent and let herself topple from the tree. The span of her wings broke her fall, and she swooped upward again with a gasp of pleasure.

“What are you waiting for?” she called down to Gabriel before she disappeared into a cloud.

Gabriel, who never did anything in a hurry, methodically peeled off layers and tossed aside his boots. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and we watched his wings unfurl until the genteel music teacher had disappeared and he looked like the majestic celestial warrior he was created to be. This was the angel who, eons ago, had singlehandedly reduced a city to ash and stone. His entire figure shone like burnished brass. Even in flight his style was different from ours, lacking in urgency, more structured and meditative.

Above the treetops I was enveloped by mist and cloud. Droplets of water gathered on my back, and I felt their crisp bite. My wings beat furiously and lifted me higher. I abandoned thought and soared, letting my body twist