Overcomer - The Battle by Judy Colella (best management books of all time txt) 📖

there wasn’t an iPod attached to her daughter’s ear.

Now that she thought about it, she realized that Celeste had looked ridiculously happy when she’d walked in the door after school, and had started that crazy singing as soon as she’d headed up the stairs. “Uh, why so skippity-doo-dah?”

Celeste stopped in the middle of placing napkins next to the forks. “What?”

“Nothing. Your grandmother loved Donna Fargo and…never mind. I was wondering why you were so, um, not full of the usual teenage bummer attitude.”

“Would you rather I be?” the girl asked, resuming her task with a smile.

“Not at all. I guess I’m not used to seeing you so, so elated.”

Celeste laughed. “Okay.” She went back to her chore, ignoring her mother, and started to sing again.

Mrs. Kelly gave up and went back into the kitchen. She knew that what had occurred the previous evening when Celeste and Katie had gone to that Hub had been profound. As difficult as it was for her to wrap her head around the idea of a place where time didn’t move, she couldn’t deny the possibility of it being an actual – if outrageous – fact. All it had taken was her daughter sitting down with the Harp and playing some of what she had learned to convince Eileen that her daughter’s instruction had taken weeks, even if no time had passed in the real world. The amount of knowledge the girl now had could not possibly have been learned during the fifteen minutes she’d been gone.

So also knew her visit to the Hub was not the reason Celeste was flitting about the dining room, joyously singing. It couldn’t be – she’d been excited, yes, but she hadn’t been all over-the-rainbow about it. No. That morning when she’d left for school, Celeste had seemed to be perfectly normal, even a little grumpy at having to get up. What, then, had happened at school?

Then it struck her. Cian. Damn. She remembered now that her husband had told her how concerned Celeste had been about him when she’d learned he wasn’t well, demanding that Mr. Croghan tell her exactly what was wrong.

“Well, I guess Cian must be feeling better,” she concluded aloud, turning on the tap to rinse out the soup pot. Celeste was much, much too young to be getting involved with boys, especially one like him. Oh, she didn’t mind the occasional group date that all the kids went on from time to time, but this boy was making her little girl sing, and she didn’t like it one bit.

The house phone rang. Eileen went to the handset in its holder on the wall – she’d refused to give up their land-lines – and picked it up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Kelly!” exclaimed Gerald Croghan.

“Mr. Croghan!” exclaimed Mrs. Kelly.

“Has Celeste gotten her chores and homework out of the way yet?”

“Why? Are you asking her out on a date?” Puzzled silence followed this remark. “I’m kidding, Mr. Croghan,” she relented. “Yes, Celeste has finished her chores, but she hasn’t had supper yet. Why do you ask?”

“She’s needed at the Hub. Katie and Cian must be there as well. Oh, and she’ll need to bring the Harp.”

“Uh-huh. Fine. But can you tell me first, what is going on between Celeste and Cian?”

“Going on?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

She sighed. Perhaps the Keeper wasn’t capable of spotting a budding teenage romance. “Never mind. Just keep an eye on them for me, okay? And as for her joining you, that’s fine, but only after she’s done with dinner and has finished helping with the kitchen. And I want her home before nine.” She may not have been able to comprehend the workings of the Hub, but had certainly begun to believe in its magical way with Time.

“Yes, madam. Before nine.” He saluted.

“Oh, please! None of that,” she admonished, surprising him. “We’ll see you later.”

Croghan chuckled and hung up. Not having been human for a long, long time, it had taken him a moment to recall that unsettling thing called “woman’s intuition.” One thing he’d never experience, though, was parenthood.

Not ten minutes earlier, his request to take Cian out for a cup of coffee to discuss his new job was met with resistance from Joe Geller, who had reminded Croghan that the young man had school in the morning. Only a promise to get Cian back before nine-thirty had achieved the social worker’s permission. And now, here was Eileen Kelly having the same issue as Joe. He had to remind himself at that point that since Eileen was still new to the concept of how the Hub worked, and Joe knew nothing at all about Cian’s true identity, he couldn’t expect either of them to allow their respective charges to be released to his care without question. Especially not on a school night, heaven forbid!

By eight fifteen, Croghan, Cian, Celeste and Katie were making their way through the maze of crates in the basement of Mystic Museum’s figurehead building. When the four had gone through the seaport entrance this time, the guard hadn’t even given them a second glance.

At the Hub, Celesta stood to welcome them. After making a major fuss over Cian in her joy at seeing him again, she thanked them for coming; they all bowed, and then sat at her feet.

“I see you brought it,” she said, indicating the cloth-covered instrument in Celeste’s arms. “Please come and sit, my Celeste, and play something for me.”

The girl had learned fifty Songs thus far, twenty-five with no words, twenty-five with, and she chose one that had them.

The moment she began to play, she felt and heard a difference. Perhaps it was being in the Hub that did it, because she certainly hadn’t detected this while playing for her mother at home. Yet here, the music felt and sounded different. Croghan’s other harp had a tinkling, almost laughing voice, while this one, she noticed for the first time, had a rich, strong voice that sounded more dramatic, even when played softly. As she sang and played, she closed her eyes and bowed her head; one tendril of red-gold hair slid out of its place and rested, shimmering, against her cheek.

Cian stopped breathing.

Katie, who had turned to see his reaction since he’d missed the whole lesson the night/month before, saw him gaping and punched him lightly on the upper arm.

He started breathing again and turned to scowl at Katie, but ended up giving her a helpless smile.

As Celeste’s sweet voice continued, all three of them could sense a retreat of some kind far down the pathways, as of things moving away from the music. It was the darkness, shocked once again into flight by this new voice that, for all its delicate sound, was incredibly powerful. They’d heard it before during the girl’s first lesson, and hoped never to hear it again.

When the girl was done, Celesta hugged her. “That was perfect! I think you should learn the rest now.”

“Um, seriously? ’Cause that’s, like, three hundred and forty-nine Songs,” Celeste pointed out.

“Yes it is. And while you’re doing that, I must introduce Cian to his instructor who will give him his new Sword.” She picked up her own harp, ran her fingers delicately over the strings, and sang out a name in her silver-gold voice.

The entrance of this angel was every bit as spectacular as Celesta’s, but of the four, only Croghan had ever witnessed the way angels manifested themselves. The impact on the three younger people was thus overwhelming and deep, forever overshadowing any Earthly displays of light they might see in the future.

This angel’s entrance was not exactly like Celesta’s: the colors were different – where Celesta’s were silver, blue and pale gold, this angel’s were deep gold, amethyst, and ruby. When the dance of lights and sparks dissolved, it revealed an extremely tall, powerful-looking man in a bronze armor breastplate over a flowing red-gold robe that looked vaguely oriental. At his back were two crossed scabbards, each holding a large sword. His long hair was nearly the same color as the breastplate, and his eyes glittered amethyst in a strong, handsome face.

The humans watched in awed silence as the angels greeted each other with smiles that were somehow more intimate than a touch; Celesta introduced everyone to him then said, “This is the Archangel Michael, the Warrior of Heaven, defender of the Elect, guardian of the Chosen.”

Katie stared, almost wanting to ask, What – in case we weren’t sure? but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. She may not have been the most faithful churchgoer, but even she knew who Michael was; his entire being exuded power and positive energy, and it was easy to see how he could have led the spiritual armies that successfully kicked who her brother once called “the King of Evil Dudes” out of Heaven.

The Archangel smiled down at Croghan once the introductions were done. “Keeper,” he said in a deep, resonant voice, “how good to see you face-to-face once again.”

“You certainly have been missed,” answered the Keeper, grinning broadly. “You know I always enjoy your company.”

“And I yours. So, what is this business we have today? A champion for the Light?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re aware of our request regarding the General,” he said, cryptically referring to Moloch whose name was never to be spoken aloud in the Hub.

“I am. It’s an idiot, you know. We need only outsmart it, which shouldn’t be that difficult.” He paused, stroking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, then said, “Tell me, Keeper, how many devil-spirits does it take to replace a light bulb?” Before Croghan could answer – he had no idea anyway – Michael said, “None – they can’t stand the light!”

Katie, shocked into speech, said, “Whoa! Did an Archangel just tell a – a joke?! A lame one, too! Holy shi-uh-gar, uh, sugar. Yeah.” She clamped her mouth shut and started looking for the nearest exit.

Michael turned to her, stared for a moment, then burst into laughter, a loud, infectious sound that made her giggle in spite of herself. “I like you, Katie Grandol,” he told her, chuckling. “You have a bold heart and a sharp mind.”

“I – thank you.” She grinned horribly at him, totally blown away by his attention.

“I believe,” Celesta interposed politely, “that this young man needs to start his lessons with the Sword now. Michael, this is Cian MacDara. Cian – Michael.”

After ruffling Katie’s hair (which she somehow didn’t mind one bit, even though anyone else would have drawn back a bloody stump), Michael nodded, looking serious once more. “So he does. Come, Cian MacDara, show me what you can do.” He reached back and pulled one of the swords from behind his back; it was larger than the Irish sword by almost double and on it were letters of some kind, etched into the metal from hilt end to tip. He handed it to the boy hilt-first and Cian took it carefully, weighing it automatically, and finding it perfectly balanced and surprisingly light.

“Is this the Sword of Light?” he asked.

Michael smiled. “No, boy. This one is.” He pulled the other from behind his back and immediately the Hub was flooded with a brilliance that nearly knocked everyone, save the two angels, to the ground.

“Can someone throw me a pair of sunglasses?” Katie muttered, squinting even with her eyes closed.

Michael replaced the sword, shutting away its light. In the ensuing silence, Cian and the others regained their composure, slowly opening their eyes.

“How am I supposed to use that sword if it blinds me when I look at it?”

“Not to worry, Cian MacDara. Your eyes will be blessed. But this will happen only after you learn how it works and how to wield it properly,” Michael explained. “That is why – for now – you’ll use the one you hold.”

The boy nodded, wondering once more why he had been chosen for this.

But then the luxury of self-doubt was curtailed as Michael told him to pay close attention – the lesson was about to begin.

First, Michael explained that the Sword was not an actual,