Page 14 of Lost Feather
I sighed. “Sure. Show me this Guide.”
* * *
“So let me get this straight,” I whispered as quietly as I could in the vast, pure white hexagonal space that echoed every time I fidgeted on my gorgeously plush, yet lumpy golden cushion. My stomach growled, and the sound echoed loud enough that the angels around me shot me condescending, amused glances. I smiled an apology until they were all looking back at the Protector speaking in the center of the room, then whispered to Sunny, “You have to go to group therapy every single day? And you still think this place isn’t Hell?”
Sunny whispered back, her lips somehow not moving, “Assembly, not group therapy. And yes. Every day until you are declared cleansed and can return to Earth.”
Every day? Not happening, not to this muddy birch.“I may have changed my mind about the unmaking. Tell the Heigel Jellies to go ahead and do it. It can’t be worse than—”
“Whssst!” Our main Guide, a figure in a long, flowing golden robe with a voluminous hood—leaving absolutely no skin or recognizable features showing—had been hovering a few rows behind us. Now, they barked out, in a tone I’d heard in more than one Catholic schoolroom during my lives, “Attention, please.” I automatically sat on my hands, instinctively ducking down to present less of a target to whatever they used as rulers up here.
Sunny’s eyes bugged out, horrified. She apologized profusely to the eighty or so Protectors and Novices who sat on fluffy golden cushions in a series of enormous, concentric circles. They all murmured, “Forgiven, Protector,” and returned their attention to the droning speaker.
As soon as the Guide walked past, I sat back up, scanning the room for an exit. This place reminded me of a funky theater in the round venue I’d been killed at in Albuquerque in 1978. Except that one had smelled like a hundred years of marijuana and desert sand, and this one smelled like high-end potpourri and resembled the world’s most expensive yoga retreat… and had no visible way out. Where had the door gone?
After that, I tried to stay quiet for Sunny’s sake. Who knew? Maybe if you acted up too much in Group or Assembly or whatever, they cut your spirit fingers off with that soul knife thing.
Ugh. I was going to have to figure out how to pay Mikhail back for that torture session. “Won’t hurt for long, my ash…” I muttered.
The Guide turned back to me, emanating disapproval from under their giant bathrobe. As far as I could tell, the more important your job, the more fabric they gave you to make your clothes. Growly Bear had a big golden robe and leather trousers. Guides had floor-length golden robes and who knows what underneath. Experienced Protectors wore white robes, and younger ones like Sunny got white togas.
I was the only wingless Novice I’d seen, and I counted myself lucky my toga was more than a diaper. Of course, I was so much shorter than the others here, it would have been indecent on some of them. A mini-toga. Hmm. I sort of wanted to crop it now. Did Practice Hell have dress code violations? I closed my eyes, imagining Growly Bear as a strict principal who called me into his office to lecture me on how tight my clothing was. Of course, I had to sit on his lap for the reprimand, his hard, muscled thigh flexing right underneath my aching—
“Pay attention!” Sunny nudged me with her elbow, and I redirected my attention to the brown-haired Protector who was speaking. I tried to look thoughtful, even though I had totally yawned through the last guy, whose voice was so quiet I couldn’t hear him at all. This one’s voice was even more of a sleeping pill.
“As you all know, I am Valor, and this was my twenty-third trip to Earth. I was tasked with a family in the Appalachian mountains. Severely impoverished, they were in danger of turning to crime to feed their children. My charges were recruited by drug dealers to distribute illegally prescribed opioids to others in their community.”
Everyone listened politely. I tried not to stare. While most of the Protectors I’d seen were built—all of them a lot taller than me and far better looking than I could hope to be—Valor was exceptional. A dead ringer for the smoking hot young guy from Magic Mike XXL. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some sort of oil on his skin, he was so shiny.
I glanced down at my own arm. In this light, I looked like I’d gone mudding without a truck. None of the other Protectors seated in the room had anywhere near as much smut as I did. Or even as much as Sunny.
Sunny’s smut made her golden glow a tiny bit patchy in this light, and her toga was stained at the edges. What had she done to earn that? It made me think of the Great Gate, the way the gold seemed to be faded in parts. My feet itched to jump up and run back to it, not to touch, only to listen to it. It had been shouting for something. Someone should be there trying to figure out what it was crying out for, or at least patching up the rusty parts. Sunny had said the gate was important, but what was it for? I wanted classes where I learned that kind of stuff, rather than group therapy.
Slight applause distracted me from my thoughts back to Protector Valor’s recap. “So, in summation, while I was unable to keep the parents from choosing to sell the drugs, when the eldest daughter took responsibility for the younger children, I was able to convince her through a series of dreams, conversations, and scrapes with local law enforcement that she should not steal food for her siblings.”
More applause.
“Excellent, Valor,” the Guide murmured in a genderless voice. “And the taint you bear from your earthly life?”
Valor’s perfect cupid’s-bow lips quivered, and the Protectors nearest him reached up and took his hands in support. “I am ashamed to admit I felt the sin of wrath. I… I became angry at how easily the daughter was tempted into crime, just like her parents. Even with an active Protector, she persisted in thinking that stealing food was acceptable.”
The Guide made a comforting noise. “Right. Can you release your anger?”
“I can,” Valor said after a moment. “I should not be angry because she was weak. In my next life, I will remember not to get personally invested in my charge’s choices, and instead guide them dispassionately.”
Everyone murmured affirmatively, nodding as if what he said made any sense at all. After a moment, he seemed to pulse slightly, glowing just the smallest bit brighter.
“Wait, really?” I was standing up before I realized I’d moved. I had to have misunderstood. “You were their Protector, right? Like, your job was to take care of them. Andthat’swhat you did?”
Valor lifted the edge of one glowing upper lip. “You would do well to learn from my example… what was your name?”
“Feather,” one of a pair of extremely tall Guides standing in the back of the room murmured. I hadn’t noticed them there earlier. They shifted closer to the outside circle of Protectors, gracefully drifting toward where I stood.
“Feather,” the main group Guide repeated. “An interesting name. I see you are a Novice. So you’ve only experienced one mission. Is that so?” Their voice was like warm honey. I would buy a time share from that voice. I would tell it my social security number and my mother’s maiden name. I would donate a kidney, maybe even one I was still using.
I didn’t want to lie to that gorgeous, hypnotic voice. “That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Wonderful. This is a perfect example for you of what Protectors can and can’t do in your time on Earth.” They nodded to Valor. “While Valor was unable to complete his primary mission, he was able to keep the balance from shifting even farther by steering the children away from crime. He did an exceptional job.”
