“Fail him?Who the hell do you think you are?” Zion lurches from my fingers.
I could’ve stopped him.The Guidemakes it easy:ifgiven an option, always choose your charge. But I can’t. Not without breaking Zion. Protecting Eli from things more powerful than physical harm is my assignment. It’s a lesson humankind has yet to learn—the words they use can cut and steal and annihilate quicker than any physical weapon they’ve invented.
Beyond Zion’s shaking, angry body, I watch Eli huffing. I only have seconds.
“He’s not ready,” I start, but Zion spits, “You don’t know shit. Nothing. How could you? You just showed up one day. I’ve been there since he was born.”
“You haven’t been there this year.”
I know it’s a heartless thing to say. The truth doesn’t always include compassion.
Zion steps back, eyes wide with all the surprise I never wanted to witness. But that doesn’t stop me from saying, “When he’s ready, he’ll tell you. But you need to back off.”
“Tell mewhat?”
I refuse to answer. But Eli, standing a few feet away, curled forward like a terrified cat, wet cheeks and flared nostrils, shouts, “I won’t tell him! Just like you won’t tell him you’re in love with him. He’s the only reason you’re around, right? You don’t care about me, just like my parents won’t when they find out I’m...”
He runs out of breath.
No, Eliruns. Fast and determined. In a blur of dirty sneakers, muddied jeans from his fight earlier, and pain. He’s around a corner before I can inhale. I should’ve seen thatcoming. I would’ve if Zion wasn’t clouding my vision all the time.
“What the hell, Micah?” Zion jerks around. He shoves me, but I don’t budge. My invulnerability sends him staggering backward. He stomps forward until we’re face-to-face. “What’s he talking about? You’re gonna choose me over him? You’re supposed to protect him!”
I know. It’s a Class-1, first-day-on-assignment, golden rule. Guardians must be flawless. They must followThe Guide.
That’s why in the movies, angels look a certain way. The majority of humans expect a certain class and race of people to be helpful and kind and always follow the rules. To never fail.
“Micah, what—”
“I can’t protect him while you’re around,” I finally hiss. “I can’t be his Guardian and...”
Almost. The words are right there.
But I run instead. I leave behind the perfect boy who I can’t have to protect the boy that I can’t watch fall any further from the world.
It’s only a nanosecond before I find him. He’s running clumsily, breathless, head lowered. Not looking. The heat in my face stings unbearably as he trips into the street. Into the path of an oncoming city bus. It doesn’t hit him; the bus is slow and Eli’s fast enough to roll away.
But he doesn’t see the speeding car in the next lane.
I do.
For once, there’s no delay in my reflexes. I’m there crouched over Eli with one fist jammed into the car’s bumper before it can crush him. Cheap metal crunches and dents inward until the car jerks to a halt.
Eli pants below me. The high beams reflect off the glittery tears in his eyes. I lower my fist. No damage to my hand. Only a minor throb. Around us, people shout, rapidly approaching.
We can’t stay.
I scoop Eli into my arms, let him flail and scream and fight as I sprint away before anyone’s camera catches our faces.
We’re in a park with dead grass and forgotten brown leaves and a silver-glazed moon floating above us.
I kneel so I’m at eye level with Eli. My hands check for any injuries other than his bruise. His shivers are like little earthquakes under my palms. Tears shine like fallen stars on his cheeks. But Eli doesn’t run anymore.
After a minute, his eyes meet mine. Past the shine is an expectation. We’ve done this before. He dances too close to things that cause harm. I heal him. Then, after a long scolding, we go to the Last Spoon.
Not this time.
I want to ask when he first noticed the way I look at Zion.
