The Dark Divine(25)

“We’ll have to hop the gate and stay out of spotlights.” Daniel leaned his head to the side to check if the way was clear.

“No.” I shrank back in the alcove, feeling colder than ever. “I don’t do stuff like this. I don’t sneak into places, or break laws—even little ones.” At least I tried not to. I really did. “I’m not going to do it.”

Daniel leaned toward me until his warm breath lingered on my face again. “You know, some religious scholars believe that when faced with overwhelming temptation”—he reached out and brushed a tangled strand of hair off my neck—“you should commit a small sin, just to relieve the pressure a bit.”

In the shadows, his eyes seemed darker than usual, and his stare didn’t just make him look hungry—he was starving. His lips were almost close enough to taste.

“That’s stupid. And … and … I don’t need any pressure relieved.” I shoved him away and stepped out of the alcove. “I’m going home.”

“Suit yourself,” Daniel said. “But I’m going in there, and unless you know how to drive a motorcycle, you’ll have a long wait until you can get home.”

“Then I’ll walk!”

“You drive me crazy!” Daniel shouted at my back. He paused for a moment. “I just wanted to show you,” he said, his tone much softer. “You’re one of the only people I know who could truly appreciate this place.”

I stopped. “What’s in there anyway?” I half turned toward him.

“You just have to see for yourself.” He cradled his hands together. “I can give you a boost, if you want.”

“No, thanks.” I took off my heels and flung them over the gate. I shoved my gloves into my coat pockets and mounted the brick pillar, finding a foothold with my barely thawed toes. I climbed up a few feet, grabbed one of the pointed iron fleur-de-lis spikes, and pulled myself up to the top of the pillar.

“I thought you didn’t do this sort of thing,” Daniel said.

“You know I could always climb higher and faster than you boys.” I stood up on top of the pillar and tried not to show that I was just as shocked by my performance as he was. I put my hands on my hips. “You coming?”

Daniel laughed. His feet scraped against the brick as he climbed up behind me.

I felt a bit dizzy as I inspected the at least ten-foot drop down to the other side. Crap, that’s high. I was wondering how I was ever going to get down when I lost my balance and stumbled off the pillar. Before I could shriek, something hard and tight wrapped around my arm, wrenching me to a stop a couple of feet from the ground.

I dangled for a moment, my feet swinging above the frozen earth. I tried to catch my breath before looking up. But I found it even harder to breathe when I saw Daniel kneeling on the top of the pillar, holding me with only one hand. His face was completely smooth and calm, not puckered or creased by the strain of my weight.

His eyes seemed too bright to be real as he stared down at me. “Nice to know you don’t do everything perfect,” he said, and rather than just letting me drop the last two feet, he tightened his grip around my arm and pulled me effortlessly up to meet him on top of the pillar.

“How …?” But I was unable to speak when I looked into his bright eyes.

Daniel wrapped his arms around my trembling body and jumped. He stuck a perfect landing on the gravel inside the memorial, and set me on my feet.

“How … how did you do that?” My legs felt as soft as a couple of well-kneaded putty erasers. My heart beat too fast. “I didn’t know you were so close behind me.”

Or that he was so strong.

Daniel shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice climbing since we used to race up the walnut tree.”

Yeah, from sneaking into a lot of places, no doubt.

“But how did you catch me like that?”

Daniel shook his head like my question didn’t matter. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and started down a narrow walkway that stretched in between two tall hedges.

I bent over and slipped my heels on. My head swam a bit when I straightened up. “So what’s so special about this place?”

“Come,” Daniel said.

We walked down the path until it opened into a wide gardenlike expanse. Trees, vines, and bushes, which were probably dotted with blossoms in the springtime, filled the open area. A misty fog swirled around us as we followed the meandering path deeper into the garden.

“Look there,” Daniel said.

I followed his gesture and found myself standing eye to eye with a white-faced man. I gasped and jumped back. The man didn’t move. The fog parted, and I realized he was a statue. I stepped to the edge of the path and studied him closer. He was an angel, not of the cute cherub variety, but a tall, slender, majestic figure, like an elfin prince from The Lord of the Rings. He was dressed in robes, and his face was carved with great detail. His nose was narrow and his jaw was strong, but his eyes looked as though he had seen the wonders of the heavens.

“He’s beautiful.” I ran my hand along one of the statue’s outstretched arms, tracing my finger along the folds of his robe.

“There’s more.” Daniel gestured to the rest of the garden.

Through the fog, I made out more white figures, standing as majestically as the first. Little spotlights shone on their heads from above, making them look particularly divine in the dimming evening light.