A Radiant Sky Read online

  I didn’t say anything. A lot of things were clicking into place for me tonight. Aunt Jo’s famous wrath made a lot more sense now, for one.

  “It isn’t fun for me to tell you this. But if you’re going to go digging up the past, you may as well hear it from me. I’m telling you this because I think it’s important that you know. What things were like for me, before.” She paused and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “And what they’re like now. What I’m like. What’s changed me.”

  I gulped and nodded.

  “Everyone has a past,” she said. “So did I. But with Aaron, I didn’t have to carry the whole world alone anymore. I could lean on someone, finally, who understood. And then he just . . . left. When things got hard. Or maybe it was my own fault, I don’t know. I didn’t ever really figure it out because you came into my life, and from then on it wasn’t about me anymore. I finally knew what it was like to take care of someone else. Your parents gave me an unimaginable gift, Skye. You changed me. I grew up.”

  “What was it like,” I said carefully, “when you met them?”

  Aunt Jo closed her eyes.

  “Like I belonged. I got an instant hair-prickling when I saw them. I knew them, but I didn’t know from where, or how I possibly could.” The same feeling I got when I met Asher and Devin, I thought. Angel blood recognizing angel blood. “They explained everything to me,” Aunt Jo continued. “They gave me a mission, a life. They were my family. And they gave me you. The best gift anyone could have given me. Even if it came out of the worst tragedy.”

  “What about the legend Ardith told me? What about your distrust?” If Aunt Jo was in the mood to share, I was going to get as much out of her as I could.

  “Parts of the legend are right. Rogues have an inexplicable distrust of Rebels, for one thing. I understand, now, that initially I trusted Mer and Sam not because they were kind to me, but because they were human. But I had the strange, vague sense that something was off—they had a tinge of angel blood, after all, and I guess the Rogue in me picked up on that. From what I understand, most Rogues can’t distinguish other Rogues, but they get a sort of sixth sense about full angels. Mostly Rebels, but Guardians a little bit too. I don’t know why I know who, and what, I am. But I always have. Anyway, there are millions of us. Scattered across the earth. If every Rogue knew they were a Rogue, I wonder if there wouldn’t be some kind of uprising.”

  “Is that why you never trusted Asher?” I asked. “Because he’s a Rebel?” Aunt Jo grinned and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “That’s one of the reasons.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Do you trust him now?”

  She hesitated.

  “He’s a Rebel, Skye. First and foremost. He’s part of a group that wants to use your powers to control the universe. You think I’m going to trust him?”

  For once, I didn’t have a response.

  Aunt Jo’s eyebrows formed the same worry crease that mine did. Asher had pointed it out to me once, on the roof, as we stared at the night sky.

  “I want to, Skye,” she said softly. “Just as much as you do. Let’s leave it at that, for now.”

  I nodded. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” she said.

  “Then let me find Aaron and James. It’s our only chance.”

  The door to the kitchen burst open, and Cassie, Dan, Ian, and Raven came in with the rest of the dishes.

  “So,” Raven said, putting a stack of plates on the counter and turning to face us. Her blond hair flashed in the harsh light of the kitchen. Her eyes were fierce. “Do we have a plan?”

  I glanced at Aunt Jo. She set her jaw, and then she nodded, imperceptibly. A silent signal meant just for me.

  We were a motley crew. Who would think we had it in us to keep two powerful angelic forces from colliding and destroying the world? But if the feeling I had was right, it wouldn’t be just the six of us by the time we were done. We would be an entire army of Rogues, hundreds of thousands of us—with me at the helm. It didn’t make sense for me to question what I was about to do. I just had to leap.

  I met Raven’s cool, blue eyes.

  “We have a plan,” I said. My parents may have failed, but now it was up to me to finish the fight. “Let’s get to work.”

  4

  “Attention, Northwood juniors and seniors. The countdown to prom has begun!”

  Student body president Maria Fouler’s voice bounced off the lockers and echoed down the halls. We all glared up at the speaker.

  The five of us were standing around my locker before first period. Unfortunately, just because we were forming a plan to save the world, didn’t mean we were exempt from school.

  “No!” Dan cried in mock protest, holding his arms up to shield his eyes. “Not the P-word!” Cassie shot him a look.

  Maria’s too-chipper voice continued: “The sign-up sheet for the planning committee is posted outside of the cafeteria. I hope as many of you as possible come on down to sign up and make this year’s junior-senior prom our best yet!”

  Cassie shot a sideways glance at me, and grinned. “Dress shopping,” she mouthed. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

  “The nomination period is also open for the prom court, beginning today. You can nominate someone for the court, prince and princess, or king and queen. A candidate must have at least two separate people nominate them in order to be considered eligible.”

  Cassie’s eyebrows shot up. “I know a perfect couple for prince and princess.”

  “You do?” said Dan. “Who?”

  “I’ll nominate you,” I mouthed reassuringly. One of my favorite things about Cassie was her unfailing optimism in the face of crisis—and yet, something told me she didn’t fully understand that come June, there might not be a prom. There may no longer be a River Springs, Colorado, or even a United States, or even, for that matter, a planet earth. Everything might be gone. Or, on the other hand, they might still be here—but we might not. If Cassie did somehow realize this and still managed to be so optimistic, then I had to give her a lot more credit.

  The buzz of conversation resumed again in the hall. I could hear people discussing who they would nominate, where they would buy their perfect dress. But our conversation was more serious than that.

  “I just want to make sure I understand what’s at stake,” Ian said, glancing uneasily at the rest of the students brushing past us, all of whom were vibrating with prom excitement. “If the Order wins, all of our lives will be controlled, down to the tiniest detail, forever. Our destiny will never really be in our own hands, and we’ll be at the mercy of some fierce and ruthless angels.”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Uplifting,” Cassie mumbled, taking a sip of her Mountain Dew. She never drank coffee—she claimed it was bad for her singing voice. But that didn’t stop her from consuming upwards of three caffeinated sodas a day, and at least two of those before lunch.

  “But if the Rebellion wins,” said Raven, bristling a little at the description of the Order, “the world will erupt into chaos. Anarchy. And there won’t be any way to stop them.”

  “Yup,” I said. “That’s about it.”

  “Kind of puts prom in perspective, huh?” Cassie said, chucking her empty soda bottle in the recycling bin at the end of the hall. “Ooh,” she said. “Three-pointer. Maybe I should try out for the basketball team—what do you think, Dan?”

  Dan booped Cassie on the nose. “Sure,” he said. “And I saw this awesome baby blue tux in the window of the vintage store in Darien. I think it was velvet. Or maybe polyester? What’s the difference again?”

  “Dan!” She swatted him. “You promised! Don’t,” she said through gritted teeth, “take this single joy away from me. Or it may be the only thing you take from me for a while, got it?” She looked at him pointedly. Dan’s face turned pale.

  “Wait,” he said, his voice rising in panic. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Maybe I’ll just go looking for another prom date,” Cassi
e huffed, and stormed off down the hall toward homeroom. “One who will take his attire seriously. I hear Trey is single again,” she threw back over her shoulder. Trey was the drummer in Cassie’s band, the Mysterious Ellipses.

  “Trey?” Dan called, hurrying after her. “He hasn’t changed out of that plaid shirt since September!”

  I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him follow her down the hall. I secretly dreamed of one day having a relationship as fun and supportive as theirs. They fought constantly, but they were happy. I’d even settle for normal, to start.

  “Well, I was planning to be the one to break up this party, but it looks like I didn’t have to,” Raven said. “I’m off to class.” She turned to leave, but hesitated. “Be careful, Skye,” she said. “Watch your back.” I flinched. The last time Raven had said that to me, she’d meant she was the one I should be watching out for. It was still so surreal that we were now on the same side. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thanks.”

  It was just me and Ian in the hall as the crowds thinned out, heading to the next class.

  “Skye,” he said, “I—”

  He hesitated. I noticed suddenly that he didn’t look good. His eyes were bloodshot, and even his freckles were sort of drooping. I knew things weren’t easy for any of us right now, but it seemed like Ian was taking it especially hard.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You look a little pale.”

  He glanced nervously down at his hands, then back at me.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said. Unsettled, I watched him walk down the hall and turn the corner into class.

  I thought we said no secrets, I thought to myself. I guess it was going to take some getting used to for everyone.

  I had a free period, so I went to the library. If my goal was now to reunite Aunt Jo with Aaron Ward and James Harrison, I had to embark on the somewhat daunting task of figuring out where they might be.

  I sat down at a computer and pulled up the white pages online. The girl next to me glanced at the screen, and I felt the hair at the nape of my neck prickle. She had short blond hair cut in a pixie style, and ice blue eyes. A Guardian, for sure. It reminded me that I had to be careful—that I was being watched, dogged, followed, all the time. They were waiting, holding their breath for the perfect time to strike.

  It wouldn’t be at school, Asher had advised me.

  If not school, then where? I didn’t want to think about the fact that the answer could have been “anywhere else.”

  As inconspicuously as possible, I angled my screen away, pretending to avoid a glare from the window. In my periphery, I saw her eyes narrow.

  As I entered Aaron Ward’s name into the search engine, I let my mind wander to the shoebox I’d found in Aunt Jo’s closet. In the faded picture, she’d been leaning up against a tree, wind whipping strands of her blond hair (there were no hints of gray in it then) loose from her signature ponytail. Aaron was leaning into her, his arm resting against the tree, a mischievous gleam in his eye—a touch of Rebel energy radiating from him. Whoever was taking the picture had caught them in the most private of moments. The moment right before a kiss, when the world is brighter and sprawling out before you, and anything is possible. She was smiling up at him, a full-body smile.

  I knew Aunt Jo wasn’t ready to be reunited with Aaron. She would rather we did this another way, and part of me—the reluctant romantic—couldn’t blame her. I tried to put myself in her shoes, to wonder how I might feel if Asher and I had parted on worse terms. What if Cassie was trying to reunite us against my will? Would I be angry? Or would I be excited, and hiding that excitement to protect myself?

  I held within my own secretly fragile heart the deepest and most unwavering hope that Asher and I would be together again. It was a hope I would carry with me always, and no one, not the staunchest skeptic, could take it away from me. How could Aunt Jo not want to find Aaron? What if in trying to bring together this blend of powers and celestial magic, I could also find a way for her to be happy again? I couldn’t think of anything more noble than reuniting two lost loves. Aunt Jo had done so much for me over the years, and given up even more. It was time I gave something back to her.

  The search turned up eleven Aaron Wards in Colorado, which seemed like the best and most likely place to start. But how to narrow it down?

  I’d been getting better at controlling my visions, when they struck. Could I make one happen on purpose? What if I could use one to figure out where in Colorado Aaron Ward was living?

  I printed out the page and folded it into the pocket of my jeans. I still had half an hour until the bell and needed to go someplace private, someplace where I could have complete concentration and focus. Someplace where I could use my angelic powers, and still be back in time for class.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Blond Pixie still watching me. I couldn’t let her think I was up to something. I walked slowly to the library door—but once I was through it, I ran like lightning to the staircase that led to the roof.

  The air was heavy; it was about to rain some serious spring showers if I didn’t act soon.

  Did you forget you can control the weather? I reminded myself.

  That bought me a little more time. I propped the door open with a brick and walked around to the side of the entrance. The ledge where Asher stood with his back to me, the place where Devin first showed me his wings, the water tower that I accidentally burst in a fit of uncontrollable power—everything about this roof held a special, supernatural memory for me.

  If anyplace had the right energy to help me see the future, this was it.

  I dropped my bag to the ground and sat cross-legged under the water tower.

  Putting my hands in my lap, I closed my eyes and concentrated on an image—the photograph of Aunt Jo and Aaron. A stolen moment captured on film.

  Thunder rumbled above me, but I didn’t want to break concentration to stop it. I let the mercurial silver slip through me, filling me with a bright, glowing energy. On the backs of my eyelids, my vision went cloudy. And then, as the edges of my sight began to take shape, to shift into clarity, I began to see things. A house. It looked a little unkempt, with paint chipping off the railings on the porch, window frames that looked like they needed replacing. It was shabby and worn, and not in the cozy, homey way. In a way that signified neglect. That made me think the owner no longer cared.

  The image in front of me shifted, and I saw a girl sitting on the bottom step. She looked about six or seven, with light brown hair that was pulled up in two messy pigtails. Her chin rested in her hand, her elbow propped up on her knee, and she sighed a bored, comically dramatic sigh. I had an urge to toss her a book or something.

  I heard the noise at the same time she did. The bushes along the side of the yard rustled. The girl’s head snapped up, scared. And my own heart pounded. Because I had seen what the girl hadn’t. A flash of white, between the leaves.

  The wing of a Guardian.

  “Look out!” I tried to yell to her, before realizing it was pointless to call out to a vision of the future. Besides, my visions never worked like that. I couldn’t interact with them. I could never change what was happening. All I could do was watch. Helplessly.

  An engine roared in the driveway and the girl jumped to her feet.

  “Dad!” she called. And then a man swooped into my sight. He put a brown paper takeout bag down on the porch steps, and lifted her up in his arms. She looked a tad too heavy and a bit too old to be held like that, but the way the man’s eyes darted protectively around the yard—lingering on the bushes where I’d seen the white wings—made me think he’d do anything to keep his daughter safe.

  He turned to face me, and I caught my breath. His hair was dark, a perfect tangle of waves that fell into his slate gray eyes. Eyes that were locked directly with mine. For a brief moment, my heart stopped. Can he see me?

  But as quickly as the thought popped into my head, I real
ized it was impossible. There was no way. His gaze shot straight through me, to something moving through the trees. He tracked it with his eyes until he must have felt satisfied that it was moving away.

  “What did I tell you about waiting outside?” he said. I could tell he was trying to sound tough, mask the fear in his voice. “Come on, let’s go in.” When they got to the front door, he looked behind him one more time.

  Something was out there.

  Then he and the little girl disappeared into the house.

  The edges of the picture dissolved into static, and I opened my eyes to find myself back on the roof of the school. Thunder cracked, but I held up my hand to silence it, and the sky went quiet. The clouds whispered away into nothingness.

  That was him—Aaron Ward. It was the same guy from the picture. He had the same dark hair, the same Rebel attitude gleaming from his eyes. And he was definitely being watched by the Order.

  I tried to pick out distinguishing features, to figure out which of the Aaron Wards I’d found on the white pages matched this one. The house and the neighborhood looked run-down, but they could have been from any number of run-down neighborhoods in the area. The number on the mailbox was obscured by bushes. There weren’t too many clues, other than the man, the little girl, and . . .

  The takeout bag! It had writing on the side, and I closed my eyes again and tried to pull back the memory of what it said. He’d been carrying it, put it down on the front steps. I’d been more focused on the two of them than I’d been on the brown paper bag, but I focused hard and tried to remember what the writing had said. The letters were small, but a T and an R jumped out at me.

  Could it be Tabula Rasa? That was the name of a café that Aunt Jo and I had stopped into once on our way home from Denver. It was about two hours west of River Springs, in a town called Rocky Pines.

  My heart in my throat, I took the folded-up printout from the white pages out of my pocket and opened it.

  Third from the top:

  Aaron Ward, 144 Sycamore Street, Rocky Pines, CO.