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“You won’t get away with this,” I say, strangely calm, clenching my hands in fists at my sides. Abe’s pocketknife is still in my right hand. “Others will ask questions. The day you murdered my father was the beginning of your end. Others will come. People will hear the truth.”
He narrows his eyes. “The truth? The truth will be whatever I say it is! I’ve got this fucking town in the palm of my hand, and no one—not you, not your father, no one—will take it away from me.”
“You’ve already lost,” I tell him. “You just don’t know it yet.” He tightens his grip on the gun as he takes a step toward me. He’s six or seven feet away, seemingly unaware that he’s moving closer. Maybe….
Griggs gives me a nasty smile. “Your father cried out,” he says. “Even as the truck began to fill with water, it was still clear enough that I could hear him screaming, begging for someone to save him. He only stopped when he started to choke on the river water in hi
s mouth.” He takes another step. “I watched, you know. I stood up on the road by the mile-marker sign, and I watched the river overtake the truck until I knew he was dead. And then I left him there. I left him in the river for someone else to find.”
Somehow, I smile at him. “You are nothing, Griggs. The world will know you are nothing.” I push up the blade of the knife with two fingers slowly, trying not to attract his attention. It catches on my dirty jeans, and I unfold the knife completely.
“Who else have you told?” he shouts, jabbing the rifle in my direction. “Who the fuck have you told!”
There’s no one else, but he doesn’t know that. “So many people,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI was already in Roseland. You’re fucked, Griggs. You’re so fucked and you don’t even know.”
“You’re lying!” he screams. “You’re fucking lying!” Another step. One more, and the rifle will be within reach. Grab the barrel, pull it away, and slash him with the knife. I might end up in the river, but at least he’ll go with me.
“You thought you were so smart,” I say with a laugh. “You thought you would get away with everything. Traynor’s gone, Griggs. Who do you think they’re going to go after for the murder of a federal agent? It’s all going to rest on you, and you’re gonna fry.”
He raises his foot… and takes a step back. “Nice try, Benji,” he says as chills go up and down my spine. “You almost had me there, didn’t you? You were good, but I’m better.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him quietly.
He arches an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
I look him in the eye. “Because I’ve done what my father asked of me. I’ve stood. I haven’t backed down. I’ve kept my promise to him.”
“Last stand, huh?” Griggs says, looking amused. “To the very end.”
I tilt my face toward the thunderous sky and close my eyes. I stretch out my arms away from my body, like wings. When I speak again, my voice is a roar, letting Griggs and Cal’s Father hear what Big Eddie has made me into. “I have faith! I believe in the impossible! If this is my test, then so be it! I have lived! I have loved! I have lost! And I am still standing, you bastard! You fucking asshole! I am my father’s son and I am still fucking standing!”
“Good-bye, Benji,” Griggs says, pointing the rifle at my head.
I open my eyes. A patch of blue sky peeks out from behind a dark cloud.
Something explodes up from the river behind me. I snap my head forward and see Griggs’s eyes rise to something above me, his jaw dropping, the rifle starting to shake. Tiny blue lights burst all around me, flying along my skin, warming me from the inside out. There’s a beat of great wings, and through the heavy rain I smell earth, deep and rich. A massive presence lands behind me, a strong arm wraps around my chest, pulling me back into a solid mass. Wings rustle as they fold around me, their touch like a caress. There’s a breath along my neck, hot and harsh. A furious growl emanates near my ear.
“You have made a mistake,” the guardian angel Calliel snarls at the man in front of us. “You have tried to harm what is mine. You have tried to take from me. And now, I will take everything from you.”
He moves faster than I’ve ever seen him. One second he surrounds me, and the next he’s flying at Griggs, wings outstretched, trying to shield me from any attack. Griggs is able to squeeze off one shot before the rifle is ripped from his hands. I take a stuttering step back, my head suddenly swimming, my legs like jelly. My chest feels like it’s on fire. I didn’t know a bullet could hurt this much.
Cal tosses the rifle into the river and picks up Griggs by his neck. Griggs struggles weakly in his arms, blood soaking the pants of his uniform where the shrapnel embedded itself in his thigh when the shack exploded. The shrapnel piece is gone. He must have pulled it out himself while chasing after me.
Blue lights begin to spin around Calliel and gather in a swirling vortex off to his right. The black hole opens, and I can hear its whispered promises to float, to have all the cares in the world taken away so we can all just float. Griggs screams in Cal’s grip, his eyes going wide at the sight of the black, and he starts kicking his legs, to no avail.
I feel so heavy, but I have to try and stop him. I can’t let him do this. Not for me. Not now. Now that he’s….
I fall to my knees, the water splashing up all around me. “Cal,” I say weakly, a blood bubble bursting from my mouth, popping. The bullet must have nicked a lung. It’s hard to take a breath. “Cal, please don’t.”
He must hear something in my voice, because he turns to me. The anger leaves, suddenly replaced by terror. He throws Griggs to the ground, where he lands with a bone-breaking crash. I start to fall forward, but Cal catches me before I am submerged facedown into the river, twisting me over and pulling me into his chest. My blood flows into the water, a red streak in the gray water. The rain continues to fall.
“No,” Cal chokes out. “No.”
I reach up and touch his face. He rubs his cheek against my palm. “You’re okay?” I ask, coughing. Blood dribbles onto my cheek. Water falls in my eyes. I reach up blindly to his chest, near his shoulder, and find a raised bump of flesh, a bloodless hole in his skin. The groove along his head is deep. He’s hurt, he’s still hurt.
“I’m okay,” he sobs, tears falling from his eyes and onto my face like rain. “I wasn’t fast enough. O, Father, hear my prayer. I am but your humble servant. Please hear me. Please help him. I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not after everything we’ve been through. It can’t end like this.”
“You came back,” I whisper as he kisses my forehead, pressing his hand against the wound on my chest to try to stop the bleeding. “You….” It’s getting harder to speak.
