The Lost Saint(61)

I knew Daniel wanted me to be normal because he wanted to keep me safe. But that was only because he didn’t know what I was really capable of. He’d lost his faith in me somewhere, somehow. Lost his faith in the whole concept of my being a Hound of Heaven—but I’d show him; I’d prove to him that I could do this. When the time was right—probably not until after I finished my training with Talbot … and maybe not until after I brought Jude home—I’d tell Daniel everything … eventually.

So that made what I was doing a surprise. I wasn’t technically keeping secrets from the person I loved the most.

Right?

As much as I dreaded trying to pull off “Grace Divine: 100 Percent Normal Pastor’s Daughter” for a couple of hours, I longed to be with Daniel. Just that he’d suggested the picnic in the first place made any potential awkwardness worth it. With Mom keeping me busy when I wasn’t with Talbot, and Daniel working extra shifts for Mr. Day and helping Katie Summers co-chair the fund-raiser, it felt as if it had been forever since we’d had time to be together outside of school. Or even in school, for that matter—considering he spent most of our lunch breaks planning booths and posters with Katie. And as twitchy as I felt—kind of like power withdrawal—nothing was going to keep me from having lunch with Daniel today.

Except for the fact that Daniel apparently didn’t feel the same way.

I sat out on the grass in my knee-length blue dress, soaking up the unseasonably warm October sun, for more than forty-five minutes before I decided he must have forgotten about our lunch. The lunch he’d planned. Daniel hadn’t been at services. But his church attendance was usually spotty anyway, so I hadn’t thought much about it then.

My stomach growled. I was cell-phone-less (Mom forbade me to take it to church), so I went into the parish to use my dad’s office phone to call Daniel. Dad wasn’t in his office, but the door was unlocked. I went inside and dialed Daniel’s number. It went straight to voice mail.

“I hope whatever you’re doing is important enough to blow me off,” I told the message recorder. “Call my cell when you remember who I am.”

I hung up and almost called back immediately to apologize. I hated myself for being so terse. But then again, wasn’t the superhero supposed to be the one who was always forgetting about plans last minute, or running off during important dinners? If anyone was going to be standing someone up, shouldn’t it be me?

I picked up my application packet from the desk and headed out into the hallway. My muscles twitched, and I was ready to take off on a good run—high heels or no high heels—but as I passed the double doors to the social hall, I heard strange noises coming from inside. Kind of like long, heavy breaths and an occasional grunt.

My curiosity piqued—all of the parishioners should have gone home by now—I pulled open one of the doors and peered inside. Gabriel stood alone in the middle of the room, poised on the tips of his toes, with his arms stretched up high above his head. The palms of his hands were facing each other. He wore a gray linen tunic and pants, like the gi’s Talbot and I wore for training, and a long brown robe. I couldn’t help thinking he looked like a cross between a monk and a Jedi Knight.

I watched as he very fluidly dropped his arms down so they were parallel in front of his chest, his hands cupped so it looked as if he held an invisible ball. His head turned in my direction. He blinked when he saw me but didn’t say anything as he continued with his flowing motions. It reminded me of the martial arts Talbot taught me, yet completely different at the same time. He did another three moves that all melted into one another like a set routine. When he finished with the last one, he turned to me again and gave a slight bow.

“Hello, Miss Grace,” he said, and motioned for me to come into the room. “Forgive me for using this space. I’m afraid my room is too small for my exercises.”

“I thought you weren’t into fighting,” I said. “Why are you practicing martial arts?”

“I do not practice for fighting. What I do is for balance and meditation.” He rubbed the spot on his finger with the lighter band of skin. “Something I find I need a lot more of these days.”

“Is that because you’re missing your ring?” I pointed at his hand. It was obvious from how light his skin was there, compared to the rest of his hand, that he must have worn a ring on that finger for many years.

Gabriel gave me an approving nod, like he was pleased by my quick conclusion.

“What happened to it?” I asked. I was surprised he’d come here without his moonstone. It seemed like a great risk for someone who was so obsessed with staying in complete control.

“I gave it to someone who needed it more than I did.” He stopped rubbing the light spot on his finger and dropped his hands at his sides. “I just hope it wasn’t a wasted sacrifice.”

“Jude?” I remembered now that this wasn’t the first time Gabriel had come to Rose Crest. I hadn’t seen him, but he’d come here on Christmas Eve and had given my dad a moonstone ring for Jude—his very own ring, apparently. “You did that for him? But you’d never even met us.”

Gabriel nodded, more solemnly this time. “Daniel talked of you and your family often. I guess I felt like I knew you all. I could tell that you were just like my sister, Katharine, and Jude sounded much like myself back before I joined the church and left for the Crusades. When I got your father’s letters about Jude’s infection, Sirhan forbade me from getting involved, but I could not help myself. I wanted to prevent your brother from falling to my own fate. But I’m afraid I always seem to be too late.” He put his hand on my shoulder. His steel-blue eyes seemed so ancient and sad as he searched my face. “I hope that is not the case with you.”