Halflings (12 page)

Vine glared at him across the table.

“Enough!” Will’s abruptness caught them both off guard. “You jumped too quickly, that’s all.”

Mace had remained quiet, lost in a sea of his own battles. Did they jump too quickly? All three smelled the gun, but a gun didn’t mean an attack. In Missouri a lot of people carried guns. But it was the smooth, cold, snakelike look on the man’s face that even now caused Mace’s blood to chill. Everything about that guy was wrong. He was too cool, too callous. And Mace would swear he smelled the spirit of murder around him.
How many times can we mess up?
How many mistakes until … “Are we going to be pulled out of this journey, Will? Is the Throne going to look down and say,
Hey, losers, why I don’t I send someone capable of not looking like a
—”

Raven dropped forward. “Like a complete, utter, absolute idiot?”

Will shot a warning look in Raven’s direction, then turned to Mace while tension mounted around the table. “The Throne doesn’t give you a mission, then jerk the rug out when you make a mistake. That’s not the structure of the kingdom. We make mistakes. And we move on.”

Raven’s mouth jerked. “You should know.”

Will’s jaw remained set, but his eyes flashed sadness. “We all have things we’d like to change. But that cannot keep us from moving ahead.”

Raven was sick of the fatherly advice — Mace could see it in his contemptuous glare. At least the three of them wouldn’t be removed from the mission. Mace’s mind raced; maybe he could repair the damage. “Nikki Youngblood won’t ever want to speak to us again. That’s going to make it kind of difficult to protect her.”

Will nodded, thoughtful for a moment. “I believe you underestimate Miss Youngblood. You’ve lost some ground with her, but in Nikki’s heart I think she knows she’s in danger. And if what we think we know of her is true, she’s a girl with an eye for survival. That could work to your advantage.”

Mace wished the words soothed the barbed wire in his stomach.

Vine opened a bag and offered a piece of red licorice to Raven, who scowled and shoved it away.

Will spoke. “Raven, are you displeased with this journey?”

He laughed without humor. “So what if I am? Like it matters. Like I have a choice. I’m the product of two beings who were never created to be together and I’ve inherited the worst of both species. This journey is the least of my worries.”

The bag slipped from Vine’s fingers and fell to the table. “I think we’ve inherited the best of both species.”

“You are a Halfling, as were your parents before you. A man who hates half of himself hates all of himself,” Will warned.

“See, that’s just the problem. I’m not a man. Exactly. But I’m not an angel either. Trapped halfway between, where do I fit? Oh, yeah.
Nowhere
.”

Mace watched the exchange with pounding aggravation. He was tired of Raven’s eternal “It’s not fair” spiel. He’d rather focus on the girl. The look of shock and disappointment on her face after he and Raven tackled and sheltered her from the
dangerous checkbook
. Even if Nikki forgave them, she’d never trust them. She would be scared to come anywhere near them. But then a familiar scent — so faint he barely noticed — trickled into his nose. Will was right about Nikki. She truly was a girl with an eye for survival — she just wanted to approach it on her own terms.

“We’re all in a war,” Will said.

“Not the humans,” Raven countered.

“Especially the humans. They’re at a huge disadvantage, not being born with eyes to see the spiritual battle. Yet they still must choose a side. And it’s their faith alone that equips them to make that choice.”

“I hate humans,” Raven mumbled. Not one being at the table believed that. What Raven hated was himself. Mace wouldn’t be surprised if Raven didn’t secretly wish he was human.

“You have a destiny, Raven. That’s all one can ask. Man or angel.” Will narrowed his gaze on him. “Or Halfling.” As the tension drained from the room, the muscles in Will’s giant shoulders relaxed.

The scent was intensified and with it Mace’s heart rate. He wondered why the others hadn’t clued in. Suddenly, Raven’s eyes met his and held, and a thin smile appeared on Raven’s face before he closed his eyes and drew on the scent, deeply dragging her smell into himself.

Irritation zinged through Mace.

“Now, let’s talk about what we’ve learned. Who wants to start us off?”

“I do.” The feminine voice came from the dining room doorway. Standing with her back straight and her fingers jittering nervously, stood Nikki, now clad in her typical jeans and T. Beyond her, the front door hung open.

Will’s mouth dropped.

Vine pointed. “How’d she —? How?”

They’d
all
underestimated Miss Youngblood. She was tenacious, Mace decided. Good. Tenacity he could use to keep her alive. Though she was gutsy, barging into their house like this. What was strange, only he and Raven sensed her. Perhaps Uncle Will had been too involved to notice, and Vine, well, was still a newbie.

Mace knew that few things ruffled Will’s feathers. Literally. But this girl had Will’s pinions on high alert. Recovering quickly from the surprise, Will donned a practiced smile. “Excuse me, dear. You must have the wrong house.”

She pointed to the door behind her, long hair flowing as she gestured. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this was the house where
angels
live.”

Will rose slowly. He maneuvered around the table and came to rest less than a foot from Nikki.

She visibly shrank, dwarfed by Will’s giant stature and his intimidating stare. Her head tipped back to look up at him, and when she swallowed it was clear she’d begun to rethink her head-on strategy. She started to step back, but stopped herself. Or something stopped her. Fingernails clicked her apprehension.

“What is this talk of angels?” he asked, and threw a glance to the boys, his clear-blue eyes lingering on Mace and Raven.

“That’s what you are,” she said, voice weak. “If I’ve figured right. You’re guardian angels.”

Raven snickered.

Vine frowned.

“They saved my life when those wolf things chased me, and he called me a daughter of man,” she said, pointing to Mace.

Will gave him an accusatory look.

Now, telling her that seemed a silly, melodramatic thing to do. But she was so beautiful lying there on a blanket of forest-green grass. His heart had bumped strangely, even then. In the moments he first looked at her, he knew he felt something for Nikki. In fact, his first words to her,
daughter of man
, were a warning to himself, emphasizing who she was and all he couldn’t have. He offered Will a sheepish shrug.

“I’m not an idiot,” she continued. Raising a finger, she poked Will in the chest.

He scowled.

She poked harder. Then again.

Vine laughed aloud but was quickly quelled by the turn of Will’s head.

Another poke.

“What are you doing?” Will asked her.

“Seems like angels would be made of mist or something. You know, I didn’t think I could feel you … Of course, that doesn’t make sense, because I certainly felt Mace in the woods and again on the back of my bike. Oh, and again when I was body slammed in the art gallery. I guess my brain is having a difficult time marrying all the pieces of this monumental puzzle.” Her open hand patted his chest. “You certainly seem real enough.”

“Do you know a lot about angels?” Will asked, now calm and cool.

“Not really.” Her head tilted back and forth. “I guess as
much as the next person. There are cherubs, those cute little flying babies with wings that don’t seem big enough to carry them, and —”

Raven’s laughter from the table stopped her. Mace rubbed an open hand over his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Cherubs? Do you know anything about spiritual matters, young lady? Have you even read the Bible?” Will’s tone lowered to condescension.

Her eyes widened. “The whole thing? Isn’t it two-thousand pages long?”

“Have you read
any
of it?”

“No. I’m a realist.”

Will threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you are. And that’s the reason you barged into my home to announce angels live here.”

She frowned, obviously offended by the remark. But the giant stared her down.

After a long time she shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit I don’t really know much about the Bible.”

Will gestured to Vine, who stood from the table and retrieved the giant black leather book from the fireplace mantle.

Nikki followed Will to the table, where he thumbed through soft pages and then pointed down.

She read. “Oh, I guess cherubs aren’t babies after all.”

“No, miss. In fact, Lucifer himself was known in the courts of heaven as the anointed cherub.”

Mace watched the blood drain from Nikki’s face. She sucked a breath. “You’re Lucifer.”

A storm swirled in his gaze. “I. Am. Not. Lucifer.” His heated voice matched his glare. “And you will
not
utter that again.”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at Mace for support.

He couldn’t help but wonder what she must be thinking right now. Her arrival either jeopardized the mission or was just the break they needed. Nikki was a fighter. If someone — or something — wanted her dead, she’d be smart. She’d accept the fact that half angel beings had her back.

As the two of them gazed at one another, her features softened. “You’re all
angels
, though
.
God’s messengers … right?”

“Mace is no angel. Though angels do exist,” Will said.

Thanks, Will!

Her eyes narrowed. “I would assume one of
God’s
angels couldn’t lie?”

“An angel would not lie,” Will said.

“Good,” she said. “Then tell me what a Halfling is.”

M
ace placed a hand at the small of Nikki’s back. Through her T-shirt she felt heat radiating where he touched her. Once on the back porch he gestured in an arc toward a variety of seating possibilities. She chose the porch swing in the hopes that he’d sit beside her.

He did.

“Are the others coming out?” she asked.

“No.” He set the swing into motion while the inhabitants of the backyard — squirrels, birds, and different types of bugs — began their evening rituals of sight and sound while a million questions bombarded her mind that all seemed wrapped in one horrific truth.

Something terrible awaited her. Though the three guys and that monster of a man she met inside the house were strange to say the least, there was a bizarre sense of security, an overwhelming feeling of shelter around them. Even Raven, though he was far from safe. In contrast to his ice-cold persona at
school, he’d stood white hot at the gallery — in what she was beginning to see as true Raven fashion — too close, too bold, and way too potent. Stealing the air she breathed and touching her bare shoulders without invitation — there was no sense of boundaries with him. That alone was a dangerous thing.

When her thoughts returned to Mace, the warm angel beside her, she sighed.

The sun hung low, pressing against a hillside across the valley. Its softening light cast muted colors along the wide expanse of Missouri sky. Pastel shades shifted from pinks and oranges to more dramatic purples and blues, melting together like some great, living, giant piece of artwork.

“It is,” Mace said.

Her head snapped to him. “I didn’t say anything.” She inched away. “Do you read minds?”
Oh, that could be very bad.

“No.” He cast a faint smile at her. “Not really. But once in a great while, if I really tune in, I can pick up a thought or two.”

“So” — she stretched out the word — “you were tuned in to me?”

He angled to look at her fully. His gaze trailed her face, setting the skin on fire.

Such intensity hovered in those blue-green oceans, she fought the urge to look away. No wonder he was so perfect. No wonder his skin radiated like sunbeams trapped in flesh. No wonder she was so … so deliciously drawn to him. He was an
angel
. But she wasn’t drawn to Vine. And she certainly wasn’t drawn to Raven. Okay, there was a tiny part of her, and she wasn’t sure how powerful that part was, that was irrationally drawn to the bad boy.

“Yes,” he whispered, and she realized he’d been studying her face as well. “I tuned in to you.”

She pulled in her bottom lip and bit down.

His eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered. “I’m really sorry about all the trouble we’ve caused you. We’re only here to help. I hope you believe that. If you listen with your heart, you’ll know we don’t mean you harm.”

“Listen with my heart?” she echoed.

His brows drew together for an instant. “Yes. Listen with your heart.”

Her fingers threaded together on her lap. She wasn’t a girl who ran around going after every whim of her heart. In fact, she’d trained herself not to follow that unreliable path and instead listen to her
mind
. Always. Even when drawing, she studied the subject, then meticulously brought it to life on the canvas. And her paintings were nearly photo-quality images of what she saw. What she saw with her
mind
. If she got her heart involved, who knew, the artwork could end up looking like Picasso.
No, thanks.

She couldn’t contain the words anymore. “I know you’re an angel,” she sputtered.

The muscles in his face hardened like she’d smacked him. “No, Nikki. I’m not.”

She rolled her eyes on the exhale. “Stop trying to dissuade me.”

A tight muscle flexed and released as he clenched his jaw, casting a shadow along his smooth neck.

She ran a hand through her hair. “You guys are beautiful. Look, I’m an artist, so I study people. I’ve never seen more aesthetic faces.”

“You’re an artist,” he said and his mind seemed to trail somewhere far away.

“Yes. You already knew that. Remember? Art gallery?” She pointed to the silver dollar – sized spot on her forearm.

He grabbed her arm. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” But inside her nerves jumped at his sudden interest. “It’s just a rug burn from hitting the carpet. My arm sort of got sandwiched between you and the floor.”