I found myself with a bit of leisure time today—Ted and Elaine’s afternoon was going so well that I had to leave them to it, and Inca was with Gabrielle when I checked in. So after a brief visit to Freya, I decided to check in on Anna, to see how she is doing.
She seems to have recovered well from her ordeal earlier in the week. Anna is a childcare worker who takes delight in her little charges, and I found it charming to watch her telling stories and playing games. She is twenty-two, having just graduated from college, and she hopes to start her own daycare center in a few years.
She strikes me as lonely, however—when she was finished with work, she went straight home and stayed there. I tried to encourage her to call someone, but she could think of no one locally aside from the friend who left her in the club that night, and neither she nor I would call that person a good friend. I worry that without friends or family to call on—her family lives some distance away, it seems—she might again find herself in trouble.
I went to Inca to ask her for her advice.
“I’m not certain, Asa’el,” she said. “A Guardian is assigned to specific charges who are at risk, but some also patrol to look for danger that is not anticipated.” She smiled at me. “Anna was lucky to meet you on patrol, as it were.”
“But that is what worries me,” I said. “What if this happens again, and she is not lucky the next time?”
“You cannot save everyone, Asa’el.”
“I refuse to use that as an excuse not to try,” I retorted.
It made her laugh, and she took my hand. “Let us talk to Eburnean and see what they think,” she said.
I admit here that I was hesitant, though it was a good suggestion. I have not met Eburnean since my hearing, so I was not certain what they thought of the proceedings on that day, but I have had the impression that somehow they disapproved of what happened.
Eburnean greeted me, however, with every appearance of pleasure, and there was no reservation in their manner. They listened to my concern with their usual direct attention.
“It seems to me, Asa’el, that this woman is in a position of relative security,” they said when I had finished. “Did you determine whether she goes out at night often?”
“I am not sure, but I think the most recent excursion was an isolated occasion.”
“And probably a discouragement from others,” Inca added.
Eburnean nodded to her at that. “In her day-to-day life, then, there is little danger. You are not wrong to be concerned about her isolation, but that, perhaps, is better addressed by a Cupid than by a Guardian.” At that they smiled at me.
“Then maybe I will speak to Danit,” I said. And then, having come so close to the point, I summoned up my courage and asked a question I have not been brave enough to consider for a while. “Eburnean, you were present at my hearing, and my seniors asked for your advice before giving their decision. May I ask—”
“Why they did so?” Eburnean suggested when I hesitated. Their smile became wry. “They asked me because what you had done fell more under the jurisdiction of a Guardian than a Cupid, and they knew that I had already taken an interest in you. But they did not much care for what I said.”
“What did you say?” I asked, though I thought I knew.
“I said that I thought you should have been a Guardian from the beginning,” Eburnean said, as direct as ever. “I told them that I thought we had made a mistake in assigning you as a Cupid.”
Inca drew closer to me then, but the words did not shock me as they may have a few months ago. Of course I have considered this. “But Peronel said that our Father’s will for me is that I let love be my guide.”
“She did indeed say that, and I do not contest it,” Eburnean agreed. “But the manner in which you follow love is up to you. And from what I have seen, Asa’el, your love often expresses itself as protection.”
I have thought about this, and I cannot deny that it is true. It is not always the case, but I have had many moments where my care for one of my charges became defensive.
“It is only my opinion,” Eburnean went on, then glanced up past me. “Or rather, not only mine.”
I was aware then of a new presence and turned to find Orison standing there behind me. His sudden appearance startled me rather badly—I had had no sense of his arrival, and no idea of how long he had been so close. His aura is the quietest I have ever encountered.
“Do not be afraid,” he said, and the words made all three Guardians smile. I was reassured by their expressions, though confused by the source of their amusement.
“It is something of a joke with Guardians,” Inca explained to me. “Those are the words that we are always having to say to humans, and even to other angels.”
“I did not mean to startle you, Asa’el,” Orison added. His voice was soft, at odds with his sharp wings and his fierce gaze. “But I have been wanting to speak to you for some time, even before your hearing, and by virtue of your having come to us, I hoped you would not be averse.”
“Averse?” I repeated, in some awe now. This close, his power was evident, and carried a shadow to it that made me grave and anxious. “How could I be averse? You honor me.”
“Honor and fear are not mutually exclusive,” Orison said. He bent his head a bit, so that his eyes were level with mine. “We have met before, brother. Do you remember?”
It took me a moment, likely because I do not choose to think back to those early, lonely days. But then I did remember him, and it made me gasp. “You came to see me when I was new! You were the representative for the Guardians who overlooked the putti at that time.”
He nodded. “Would that I had had the eyes to see then as I do now. I wanted to take you in, but that protective instinct makes me want to take all putti, and I have to resist it if I do not want to draw my young siblings into work they cannot understand. But I have kept my eye on you since then, and all that I have seen makes me believe that you would have done very well as a Guardian, brother.”
The fervor and kindness of his words removed the very last of my unease with him, and I was very grateful for what he said. “Thank you. Still,” I said, shaking my head, “I am a Cupid.”
“That is your choice, and we honor it,” Orison said, so immediately that I was relieved. “None of us can doubt that you have done marvelous work in your chosen field, and we would not wish any less for you. Even so, if you ever wish to know a bit more about how to protect those whom you love,” and he extended his hand to me, “I hope that you feel you may come to us.”
His words, and the warmth of his hand, have stayed with me all day. It is strange, and yet comforting, to think of an angel who has looked after me from afar for all my life. He even seemed to regret that he did not choose me as a Guardian! But of course, if that had been meant to be, then he would have. All has come about as it should.
Still, I am grateful that he came to speak to me, and for his offer. I am grateful also to have Inca and Eburnean as my friends and helpers. And perhaps I should learn a bit more about what it is a Guardian does. Eburnean is not wrong about my tendency to protect, and if that is an inclination of my spirit, why should I not embrace it?