Mark reached for my hand as we slowly strolled toward the tent with Shawn and Sam next to us. We appeared to be nonchalant, but in truth, adrenaline raced through us all. I worked to keep myself as calm as possible, trying to focus on the emotions that filled the dirty massive canvas tent in front of me. My apprehension from the night before came crashing back again as I felt the oppressive weight of the emotions around me.

Shawn reached out and pulled the flap of the tent aside so we could step into the brightly lit area. I wrinkled my nose when the smell of moldy canvas assaulted my senses. I had gone camping once with my parents when I was growing up and had gotten ferociously sick while we were surrounded by nothing but wilderness. The smell of the tent we slept in had only compounded my nausea, and to this day the smell of canvas still made bile burn its way up my throat.

The space we stepped into was crowded, with mostly guys standing around talking. I spotted several girls as we made our way toward the back row of the rough manmade benches, but none of them were the girl from the night before.

"Do you see her?" Shawn asked, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

I shook my head "no" and continued to scan the crowd. The emotions of those in the tent swirled, around us in a sort of haze that I felt I could touch if I tried. I had been around despair and animosity before, but not all at once. I found myself working hard to keep my own emotions at bay as the other emotions in the room threatened to overwhelm me. Mark kept my hand firmly in his giving me the support I needed.

After several minutes, the lights in the tent dimmed and everyone began to take their seats. A guy around our age sat next to me, and once again I had to fight back nausea. He took grunge to a whole new level, wearing jeans that I was pretty sure could stand up on their own, a shirt that was as holey as it was dirty, scuffed up combat boots that had duct tape wrapped around the toes and long, dark, oily hair that rested against his pale sunken-in cheekbones. Once I could get past the stench that surrounded him, I focused on the emotions that he was experiencing. By his appearance and glowering expression, I had expected to feel deep animosity flowing around him, but was shocked that despair seemed to fill every available space inside him. I fought the temptation to let his emotions inside me, curious about what had made such a tough looking guy feel so lost. I felt bad that I had instantly stereotyped him.

"Don’t let him in," Mark sent the thought my way after pulling my conflicting thoughts from me. "We have to get a lay of the land first before we show our cards," he added, dropping my hand so that he could pull me snugly into his arms, allowing me to feel his steady heartbeat against my shoulder.

er 8

The next morning rolled around bright and early, and my doubts reared their ugly head once again. In the light of day it seemed crazy to doubt Haniel, who had been doing his job for so many years. Who were we to doubt an Archangel? As quickly as the doubts filled me, another, more disturbing, image took over of a young girl cowering in fear. Even if we were going to fail, could I really live with myself if didn't at least try?

Finally reaching a decision, I climbed out of bed and got dressed with determination. We could do this. Sure, we might not do it with as much finesse as more experienced Guides, but we could manage to save one forgotten soul, I thought to myself. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry this morning, and it started with waking the beast on the other bed in my room.

I had been given the unfortunate and dangerous task of waking Lynn up.

I glanced over at her and saw she was still buried in her comforter, snoring lightly, looking all sweet and innocent, but I knew it was all a ploy. Lynn was the heaviest sleeper I had ever seen, and for whatever reason she always came up swinging when you tried to wake her. The guys liked to tease her about it, saying she must be channeling her inner "Protector" when she was sleeping, but I had my own theory. I believed Lynn submerged herself so firmly into her shared dreams with Robert that she resented any interference.

Reluctantly, I walked to her bed, pausing long enough to pick up an empty hanger off my bed. I had learned the hard way that a hanger was the easiest way to wake her. Using the rounded curve of the plastic hanger, I gently poked her in the arm hoping for the best. My hopes were dashed when she didn’t even flinch.

Great, this was going to be tough morning. I sighed and prepared myself to poke her again, only harder. This time I was unprepared for the swinging arm that seemed to come out of nowhere.

The plastic hanger flew out of my hand from the impact and crashed into the wall behind me. Sighing, I used my own hand to shake her once, jumping back before my hand was threatened. "Lynn, it's time to get up," I said, finally resorting to an annoyingly loud, bossy voice that I knew drove her nuts. I hated for her to wake up cranky, but seriously, enough was enough.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled, rolling over to the other side of the bed away from me.

Grimacing determinedly, I smiled briefly at her mistake as I placed my hands on her backside and shoved her off the bed with one mighty push. Turning quickly, I fled to the other side of the room as she sat up sputtering.

"What the…?" she said looking like a madwoman. Her short, cropped haircut stood out in every direction, while her face resembled a patchwork quilt from all the lines covering it from being buried in the comforter she had slept on.

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me at her ruffled appearance. "I tried to wake you gently," I said, backing out the door as she advanced toward me. I slammed the door behind me and raced down the hall, putting ample distance between us. Glancing behind me to make sure I was home free, I ran smack into Robert.

"What's so funny?" he asked apprehensively, glancing behind me, obviously suspecting the answer.

"Um, good luck with that one," I said, racing toward the living room as Robert intercepted Lynn.

"Whoa, what happened?" I heard him ask as I opened the patio door.

"I think Krista is ready for a dip in the pool," I heard her answer as I quickly closed the door behind me, smiling with sinister pleasure.

"What are you smiling about?' Mark asked from the patio table, setting the book he was reading aside.

"Lynn. She wasn't overly crazy with the method I used to wake her up," I said, smiling even wider.

"What did you do, dump water on her?" he asked, smiling also.

"Um, nope. I might have pushed her out of her bed," I said, feeling a small twinge of guilt creeping in.

Mark burst out laughing at my admission, which made the guilt switch to unease. If the guys thought it was funny, I was doomed for sinking to their level. I would have to sleep with one eye open so Lynn wouldn’t be able to retaliate.

Lynn's revenge was put on hold as we all got busy getting ready. Haniel had planned on a training session at ten a.m., so we wanted to be out of the house before then. The guys were convinced that once he realized we had completed our mission, it would show Haniel we were ready to take on more complicated missions.

I wasn’t as convinced, but I kept my concerns to myself as we piled into Mark's Navigator.

Tags: Tiffany King The Saving Angels
Source: readsnovelonline.net