Page 42 of Avenging Angel

“Yes,” she says quietly. “The voice was as real as anything in my head. Like Peter, I didn’t hesitate to follow the directions, but the entire time I questioned my sanity. When I could physically go no further, alone and cold in the woods, I came upon a man. Uri. He carried me to the Grahams’ barn for shelter.”

I frown. “Grace never mentioned that part.”

“Because she doesn’t know. Roger knows. Director Finnegan knows. And the Grahams know. But that’s it, Angel. And now you. I never spoke a word of it after Roger and Robert sat down with me at the Grahams’ table. Not even to my brother or my parents. I guess a small part of me doubted that anyone would believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“Thank you for that. Few would. I have one more question on the topic for you. Do you believe everyone has a guardian angel?”

The expression on her face is both hopeful and desperate for an affirmative answer. “Yes and no. I haven’t read text in the Bible that says each of us has an angel assigned to us, one who follows us around and watches our every move. God does that. But I do believe He sends angels to protect us when it’s needed most and that they are watching over us as a whole. I also believe they fight battles on our behalf in a spiritual sense. It’s just my opinion, though I could be wrong. Why do you ask?”

Daisy shifts in a way that says she appreciates my honesty but doesn’t like my answer. Her words confirm it. “I guess I was hoping that the other girls who were taken have an angel watching over them too. Uri was so kind and emanated such peace, it was nearly impossible to be scared. I wanted that for those girls too. A voice that penetrates the soul enough to give them hope, or an angel to carry them when they can no longer put one foot in front of the other.”

“They very well may have one, Daisy. Just as God sent one for you, He may have sent angels to provide a hedge of protection for them as well. Like I said, I don’t believe that we are assigned an angel at birth who sticks with us until our dying breath, but I do believe we are protected when we need it.”

“We could use one right now,” she says, bowing her head and taking my hand as she begins to pray. “Lord, even below tons of earth and stone, with a situation that looks dire, we come to You and ask for help. You can move mountains, part seas, and dry up rivers with a mere thought. You can roll stones away without straining a muscle. All we’re asking is for You to shimmy the ones keeping us trapped in here so that we can be free, or that we can get enough fresh air so we won’t die before help arrives. That’s it. No biggie.”

I stifle my chuckle, appreciating the way Daisy talks to God like a friend instead of the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent being that He is. The way she reasons with Him by acknowledging there isn’t anything He can’t do and subtly reminding the Lord of this fact. I’m waiting for the bargain that inevitably follows such a proclamation.

It doesn’t. Daisy’s next words surprise me when she accepts our circumstances with more grace than most people would.

“If Your method of escape is for us to join You in Heaven, then so be it. It’s Your will, so who am I to argue?”

My laugh can’t be contained when she says that last part. Daisy isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe for what she wants. She opens one eye to look at me, then the corner of her mouth lifts slightly.

“Fine, I’ll amend what I said,” she says, both talking to me and God at the same time. “Who am I to argue with You, Lord? Everyone else is fair game. Here’s the kicker. You’d be bringing my soul to Heaven with unfinished business. I’m not one to leave a job undone. If that’s Your will, then You’ll need to finish the job for us. Okay?” She turns to me and whispers, “Your turn.”

“In Your name we pray and hand over our situation to You. Amen.”

“That’s it?” Daisy asks.

“You said it all,” I tell her. “I’m in no condition to move boulders, and our air is becoming dangerously hypoxic. I’m already hearing things. I thought I heard voices, but they weren’t coming from the direction we entered the cave.”

Daisy listens intently but shrugs and curls up next to me when we’re greeted with silence.

Minutes pass, then hours. Just as the last vestiges of energy drain from our bodies and hope begins to dwindle, Daisy sits up straight and looks toward the pile of rocks blocking a tunnel that leads farther into the mines instead of the one where the Southern Knights and likely half the town are working to dig us out.

I watch as she stands and stumbles her way across the cavern, pressing her ear against the wall of rubble. That’s when I hear it too. The sound of a woman talking faintly, begging us not to give up. Then a man’s voice, almost soothing in tone, says, “They have time. Not much, but enough.”

Chapter seventeen

Daisy

“We’re getting rescued!” I shout, grinning and stumbling toward Angel as my legs wobble. I trip a few times along the way but still manage to find enough energy to jump into Angel’s arms, sort of. The problem is that Angel does not have the strength to catch me, and we tumble toward the ground. Despite my fuzzy brain, instinct takes over, and I turn my body so that he’s on top of me while I take the brunt of the fall. The last thing Angel can afford is to hit his head.

We’re both laughing at first until his arm moves to the side of my head and his fingers graze along my hairline. Angel tucks my dirty, loose strands behind my ear, his smile shifting from playful to something far more serious.

I lick my lips without thinking when his eyes move from mine to my mouth and then back up again.

“This is probably the wrong time to say this, but I don’t care. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. It’s not because of your almond-shaped brown eyes that sparkle with mischief or the softness of your lips. It’s not even your long, raven-black hair that looks like spun ebony. Those things may have caught my attention, but they aren’t what holds me captive. It’s your fortitude, your inner strength, and your unwillingness to give up. For the record, there’s no one else in the world I would rather be trapped with.”

“Not even Allison Dawes?” I tease, reminding him of the girl he never got to kiss. “She never shot you in the thigh with a paralyzing agent.”

Angel smiles and leans down, whispering in my ear. “Not even Allison Dawes. I’d rather get shot a thousand times by you and spend my life in a daze than get one kiss from her.”

“That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I could almost kiss you for it.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Angel says, closing the distance but leaving enough space for me to decide if that’s what I want. I do want to, but not like this.