by Kim Harrison
I winced, not wanting to tell him he was a keeper of time. It sounded so lame. “He’s actually the dark reapers’ head guy,” I said, thinking that was marginally better. “Barnabas is a light reaper. He tries to save the people that the dark reapers target.”
Josh took another bite and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Like you?”
“Yes, but he messed up because it was my birthday.” Fidgeting, I rearranged the chips on my plate. “He thought Kairos was going after you, actually.”
His chewing slowed as his eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know it was your birthday. No wonder you were all pissy. Set up by your dad on your birthday? That’s wrong.”
I smiled a lopsided smile, and he smiled back. From the light fixture, Grace giggled.
My eyes dropped, and Josh went back to his sandwich. “I sort of remember Barnabas. You said he can keep those things from getting me? Where is he? Uh…heaven?”
I shook my head. “He’s with Ron, his boss.” Tension was winding tighter in me as we sat and did nothing. Why am I playing tea party with Josh when death is looking for us? Brushing my bangs back, I gazed out the kitchen window to the empty street. “Kairos wants his amulet back. Ron thinks I should keep it.” What if they never show up?
“But Kairos has an amulet,” Josh said. “I saw it.”
Smiling grimly, I nodded. “Apparently it’s not as powerful as the one I took. As bad as I feel for him, I’d rather stay alive, thank you. He shouldn’t have killed me in the first place,” I muttered.
His expression thoughtful, Josh propped his elbows on the table. “Kairos came back for your soul at the morgue. That’s messed up.”
“Yeah,” I said, stifling a shudder. “He targeted me, killed me, then came back for me. They never do that.” Why me? I’m not special.
“So you’re a reaper now?” Josh said, looking uncomfortable. “Like in the books where if you cheat death, you take his place?”
“No freaking way!” I exclaimed. “Only a reaper can be a reaper. I’m just dead.”
That seemed to give Josh a measure of peace as he settled back and started on his second sandwich. “This is so weird.”
I snorted and ate a chip. “You have no idea,” I said, then slid my sandwich to him, minus the crusts, which I picked at. Though I was upset, it was nice having someone to talk shop with besides Barnabas. I should’ve done this months ago. Not that Josh would have believed me, much less talked to me. I’d been spending so much time in my room e-mailing Wendy about nothing that I hadn’t tried to make any new friends. Maybe I should change that, I thought sadly. That is, if I survived. Where in God’s creation was Barnabas?
Josh began chuckling, and I eyed him. “I’m kind of glad you’re dead.”
“Why?” I asked, miffed. “So you can eat my lunch?”
Elbows on the table, he smiled. “Because it means I’m not crazy.”
My brief smile faded. “I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to remember anything. It must have been awful, having a memory like that when everything is telling you it’s a dream. Is it bad? I think my dad remembers stuff too.” Me in the morgue, the call never completed to my mom. The guilt, the loss…boxes to be filled, taped up, and put in the attic.
His eyes down, Josh nodded. I heard a car pull into the drive and got up. It was my dad, and after seeing Josh’s truck, he backed out and parked in the street so he didn’t block him in. “What’s my dad doing home?” My attention shifted to the clock on the stove. It was only one thirty.
Wiping the chip crumbs off himself, Josh shifted in his seat. “You don’t think he heard about what happened, do you? I probably shouldn’t have driven off like that.”
My dad was eyeing Josh’s truck as he came up the walk, squinting until he found the shade. His khakis and dress shirt made him look professional, but he was still wearing his lab coat—which meant I was in trouble. He never forgot to take it off unless he was upset. His work ID dangled from around his neck, and he tucked it into the lab coat’s breast pocket when he reached the drive.
“We didn’t do anything wrong by leaving,” I said, suddenly nervous. “It wasn’t your fault Kairos hit a traffic light. You didn’t hit anything.”
“It was my fault!” Grace chimed out, and the light fixture she was in glowed brighter.
“I was a witness.” Josh pulled a phone from his pocket and looked at it.
“How would he find out, though?” I muttered, pulling back from the window when my dad looked up at the house.
Josh shifted his glass so it was perfectly situated with his plate. “It’s a small town,” he said, his brow pinched in worry. “I should call my mom.”
We both stiffened when the front door opened. “Madison?” my dad’s voice echoed in the silent house. “Are you home?”
I gave Josh a nervous look. “We’re in the kitchen, Dad.”
His shoes thumped on the hardwood floor, and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Josh stood, and my dad’s eyebrows rose as he took him in. “Hello, sir,” Josh said, extending his hand. “I’m Josh Daniels.”
My dad’s puzzled expression eased and turned into one of acceptance. “Oh! Mark’s son. You look just like him. It’s good to meet you.” His grip pulled away. “You’re the one who left Madison at the prom,” he accused in a defensive-dad sort of way.
“Dad!” I protested, embarrassed. “He didn’t leave me. I ran out on him after I realized you set us up. Josh was a perfect gentleman. I asked him over to lunch to try to make up for it.”
Josh was shifting from foot to foot, but my dad had found his usual good humor, and his face showed a smile again. “I thought maybe it was because your bike had a flat and you needed a ride somewhere,” he said, his eyebrows arched.
I blinked. “H-how did you know?” I stammered.
My dad put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before he went to the message machine. “I got a call from the bike shop.”
My mouth opened into an O as I remembered I’d left it there. “Oh. Yeah. About that—”
“They ran the registration number and came up with my name,” my dad said as he turned away from the machine and frowned. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. Even called the Flower Bower to see if you went in on your day off. I finally had to leave work.”
Embarrassed, I shrugged. I hadn’t checked my phone in all the commotion today. “Uh. Sorry. I ran out of minutes,” I lied. “Josh gave me a ride.” My dad’s frown was making me nervous. “So I asked him for lunch.” Crap, I was babbling, and I shut my mouth.
A soft sound of disapproval escaped him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he said dryly, passing through the second archway to the never-used dining room.
I sighed. “Excuse me,” I said to Josh, then glumly followed my dad. He had gone all the way through the dining room and was standing in the patch of sun that made it into the living room, shining on the wall where he’d hung some of the photos I’d taken at the balloon festival with him last month. He’d sprung for a ride in one, and you could see the entire old downtown in one shot, the rivers outlining its confines.
The living room, like the kitchen, held whispers of my mom, from the glass-topped tables to the suede furniture to the Art Deco statue in the corner. Either my parents had very similar decorating ideas, or my dad was still living in the past, surrounding himself with reminders of her. No pictures of her, though.
“Dad—” I started, but he didn’t give me a chance to explain.
“Stop,” he said, hand raised. “What did we agree on about guests?”
I took a breath to speak and let it out. “I’m sorry. But it’s Josh. You set me up with him, so I thought it’d be okay. It’s just a sandwich.” My voice had gotten whiny, and I hated it.
“It’s not the sandwich; it’s you being here alone with him.”
“Da-a-a-a-ad,” I moaned, “I’m seventeen.”
His eyebrows went up. “What’s the agreement?�
�� he asked, and I slumped.
“I said I’d ask before inviting people over,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
Immediately he relented and gave me a sideways hug. My dad couldn’t stay mad at me, especially when it appeared I was starting to make some friends. “It looks like you forgot a lot,” he said when he let go. “Like your bike? Madison, that bike wasn’t cheap. I can’t believe you left it there.”
If he was talking money, then we were cool. “Sorry,” I hedged as I tried to get him to go back to the kitchen. “Josh almost got into an accident and I got distracted.”
At the word accident, my dad pulled me around. “Are you okay?” he gasped as he held my upper arms and gave me a once-over.
“Dad, it’s okay,” I said, and his grip dropped. “I wasn’t even in the car. A traffic light fell, and Josh swerved out of the way.” Kairos could stay out of the story.
“Madison,” he began, looking scared, and a memory surfaced of me finding him alone in my room, surrounded by packing boxes and believing I was dead.
“Not a scratch or anything,” I said, to get that awful picture out of my own head. “It was the other guy who hit the traffic light.”
My dad searched my face to see if I was telling the truth. “You mean a stop sign,” he said, and I shook my head.
“Traffic light,” I affirmed, finding the humor in it as Grace laughed from the kitchen. “It fell right off the wire and some guy ran into it. If it hadn’t, he might have hit Josh instead.”
Finally he lost that frightened look. Pulling himself straight, he exhaled. “Sounds like his guardian angel was working overtime.”
A glowing ball of light zipped into the room. “You got that right, baby cakes,” Grace said, her glow lost as she hovered in a sunbeam. “I’m not even supposed to be guarding him, but Madison’s not nice to me, and he is. Gave me a bell to sit in and everything.”
I glanced at her voice, seeing the backyard behind her and the hedge that Mrs. Walsh somehow saw around, over, or through. “He’s really a good driver, Dad,” I said. “Wears his seat belt and everything.”
My dad laughed, his hand landing on my shoulder again before it dropped away. “I know your mother gave you a lot more freedom—”
“Not really,” I interrupted, recalling her strict rules and early curfews, demands that I be proper and respectable like her when all I wanted to do was be myself.
“Call me next time you want to have friends over, okay?”
He turned me around, and together we started back to the kitchen. “I’m sorry; I will.” I’d apologized, stated my case without whining—much—and he’d accepted that. I was getting better at this responsibility thing.
“Did you get enough to eat?” he said as we entered the kitchen, and I nodded.
Josh was on his cell phone, and seeing us, he said, “Bye,” and closed it. I had a moment of worry that he might be talking to his buddies about that “weird chick Madison,” but then dismissed it when he smiled at me. Cripes, he had a nice smile. Better yet, he believed me. It was as if a weight had been lifted. I wasn’t alone anymore.
“Thanks for bringing Madison home,” my dad said, and I felt better. He liked him, too.
Josh seemed to get that I wasn’t in trouble, and he found a more relaxed position. “It wasn’t a problem,” he said, fiddling with his glass. “Right on the way home.”
“On the way home from what?” my dad asked as he got the iced tea out of the fridge.
I hesitated. I hadn’t told my dad I was going to the school today.
“School,” Josh said, adjusting his glasses and clearly curious to hear the excuse I was going to give my dad for being there. “The track team is running tomorrow at the carnival, so we had a practice. Would you like to sponsor me? It’s a dollar per circuit.”
“Sure. Put me down,” he said, hunched over as he rummaged in the dishwasher for a glass. I winced, remembering I was supposed to empty it this morning. “You’re not a long-distance runner, are you?” he asked with mild worry, clearly thinking big bucks out of his wallet.
“No. I’m a miler.”
My dad smiled as he poured his tea. I was starting to wish he would go away. I had things to do. People to save.
“Madison, you didn’t tell me you were going to do anything for the carnival.”
“Uh…” I scrambled for an answer, thinking. “I thought I could, uh, take pictures. But it’s a stupid idea.”
“No it’s not,” Josh said, and I could’ve smacked him. “People love that kind of stuff.”
I gave him a look that said to shut up, then smiled when my dad turned from closing the fridge. “Who’d pay for a picture they can’t see and won’t get until two days later?” I protested.
My dad was nodding, but not in agreement with me. I’d seen that thoughtful expression on him before, and he leaned against the counter with his drink and crossed his ankles. “If that’s all you need, I’ll get you one of those printers that lets you do it right there,” he said, and my stomach dropped. “You give them a ticket, and they pick it up before they leave.”
“Really?” I said with forced enthusiasm. Maybe I could call my boss at the flower shop and offer to come in tomorrow to get out of it.
“Sure,” he said, then shoved his glasses back up his nose. “I almost got you one for your birthday, but I wanted you to have a better camera first.”
I thought of my new camera up on my dresser, used mostly for taking shots of my flashy new wardrobe my dad had gotten me and e-mailing them to Wendy. She’d probably die when she saw the picture of my skull-and-crossbones sneakers. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, giving him a pained look, trying to tell him I wanted to be alone with Josh. “I’ll talk to someone about it.”
“You do that.” Giving us a salute with his glass, he ambled toward the archway. “Josh, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want.”
“Thanks, Mr. A.,” Josh said, “but I told my mom I’d be home by six thirty.”
My dad bobbed his head in acknowledgment, smiling at the informal term of respect. I was sure he’d never been called that before. Barnabas was always very formal the few times he’d talked to my dad. “I’ll be in my office,” my dad said. “I’ve got a few things to finish up for today, but I can do them from home.”
I sighed as he left the kitchen. I could hear his footsteps in the entryway, and the creak of his office door not quite shutting. He didn’t do much work at his home office, but it was right across from the kitchen, and he could keep an ear on us.
“There once was a girl from Zaire—”
“Please don’t,” I moaned softly, and Grace snickered. Maybe I could find a bell for her to live in. Seeing that traffic light crash down had been scary.
“He doesn’t trust me,” I said softly as I sat across from Josh. Six thirty? We had almost five hours for Barnabas to turn up and make this nightmare go away. Where was he anyway? It couldn’t take that long to talk to seraphs. Just drop to your knees and have at it.
Josh snorted and ate another chip. “He doesn’t trust me, that’s who he doesn’t trust.”
I smiled thinly, elbows on the table as my dad talked on the phone. Black wings didn’t clock out at the end of business hours, and if Barnabas wasn’t back by then, it was going to get ugly. It had been a while since I’d been grounded for breaking curfew, but if I didn’t stay with Josh all night, he might not make it. It wasn’t as if Grace could play messenger girl.
“I don’t suppose you have any ideas about how to keep Kairos away after six thirty?” Josh asked, and I gave him an apologetic look.
“Nothing that won’t get me grounded.” I glanced at Grace, knowing the only way she’d leave to get Ron would be if I was in danger that she couldn’t handle, and in that case, I’d probably be dead. This is so not good. “One of them should be back by now. Maybe something’s wrong.”
From the light, Grace chimed out, “Nothing’s wrong. If you aren’t allowed past heaven’s gates, it take
s a while to get a seraph’s attention.”
“I feel so helpless!” I said, collapsing in my chair again.
“Helpless? You want to talk helpless?” Grace grumbled, her thin voice growing louder as she landed on the table. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Barnabas can do a better job guarding you than I can. Why Ron twitched him away instead of asking another reaper’s help to talk to the seraphs is beyond me.”
“You’re doing a great job,” I said, giving Josh an eye-rolling look when he stared at me, hearing only half the conversation. “You scared the crap out of me when you sent that light down on Kairos. That had to be second-sphere stuff, easy.”
Josh smiled and finished off his sandwich. “Scared the crap out of me, too. Thanks for saving my life.”
The glow from her wings brightened. “It was clever, wasn’t it?”
I nodded as I stood up, gathering the empty plates and taking them to the sink. Why had Ron taken Barnabas with him? It was almost as if he didn’t want the reaper with me anymore.
Ice sloshed as Josh took a drink, and he reddened as he wiped his chin. “I don’t want to get grounded,” he said. “There has to be something we can do between now and six thirty.”
“You mean like come up with a plan to get rid of Kairos?” I asked as I rinsed the plates off. “Sure, like I can take on the king of the dark reapers,” I said, but then I thought about it. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” I admitted, drying my fingers off. “If I swiped his new amulet, he couldn’t tap into the time stream until he made a new one. He’d have to leave. He wouldn’t have a scythe then, either.”
Josh’s expression was puzzled when I turned around. “Can’t he just borrow one of his reapers’ amulets?”
I smiled, realizing I’d said “time stream,” and Josh was still sitting there listening to me. “No. Kairos can touch a reaper’s amulet,” I said, remembering Ron holding Barnabas’s, “but not use it. Neither can Ron.” I went silent, holding my amulet as I remembered Nakita’s stone glowing the same shade as the jewel on her sword. “My getting close to him probably isn’t a good idea. He’ll just drag me off. And if you try to take it, he’ll just scythe you. There’s got to be a way to make this work.”