“Damn,” she said. Nobody was going to comfort her, so she would have to do it herself. She stood and went to the adjoining kitchen and poured herself a drink. Even knowing he didn’t need to eat or drink, she couldn’t help but play the hostess and be polite. “Want some? I have some juice, or I can put on some coffee.”
He surprised her by accepting the offer, and she poured some orange juice into a tall, clear glass. He followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, sipping his drink. Zoë got a sponge and wiped down the counters, wanting to be active, to do anything but think. How could she put any of this into perspective? She had no frame of reference for her new reality.
After she’d scrubbed the counter and sink, despite them not having been dirty in the first place, she said, “Thomas, I know you don’t know me, but I wanted to ask your help.”
“Zoë, I have done everything I can for Alexander.” He paused. “Or is this about the chaos blade? Has someone contacted you?”
Okay. Who would do that? She didn’t want to ask. However, she did consider telling him about the black arch she’d summoned with her chaos blade. He’d said after the hearing that he wanted to help her. She decided to focus on one thing at a time.
“No, this isn’t about that. This is about my friend Henry Dawkins.” She put down her soapy sponge and wiped her hands before turning to him and, as methodically as she could, explaining Henry’s situation. She also told Thomas Marco’s story and about her meeting with Robert Benson. “I can’t let Henry be ‘detained’ for something he didn’t do. He never touched Kent McGee, and had nothing to do with his death. If anyone is to blame, it’s this Peter Delancy person.”
“Do you have proof of Henry’s innocence?”
“Other than the word of Marco that Delancy was at Fiskers and probably in the boiler room when Kent died? No. Maybe I can get proof. From Henry. I’m going to summon him using that.” She pointed to the shadow box she’d laid on the bar separating the kitchen and living room.
Thomas put his hand on the shadow box and then drew it back suddenly. It did not shine like it had for Robert, but she could still detect something strange about it. His face remained unreadable. “What do you need from me?” Thomas said.
“Be Henry’s advocate. To whatever group might want to harm him. I don’t have a lot of money, and I don’t even know if angels have any use for money. Alexander sure never paid for anything.” Guilt flooded her for her petty and bitter thought. She shoved that particular set of problems aside. “I will try to contact Henry. Perhaps he can tell us something that will clear him. And then you go and present his case and get him taken off whatever kind of list he’s on. Make them leave him alone so he can exist in peace.”
Thomas stared into the distance as he considered. “I’m not sure it’s ever been done before, an angel representing a non-living human spirit.” His thoughtful voice told Zoë the idea of a challenge appealed to him. “As for payment,” he said slowly, “The key is interesting.”
“The key belongs to Robert. I promised I’d take it back when I finished with it. I’m sorry. It isn’t mine to give.” Not that she would have given it to him anyway.
“I don’t require money; however, you have talents that could be of use to me from time to time. You helped quite a bit when we first met and you spoke with my former clients.”
Former clients, Zoë noticed. Did Thomas tell them to find another representative after he discovered what they’d done to the spirit of Jackson Burly? She considered, but let it go, not wanting to be distracted from the matter at hand. “I would gladly exchange my time and services to you, in return for your help.”
“Good. That’s settled. I’d like to watch you summon Henry.”
“You won’t be able to see him, will you? And he might not come if you’re here. When Alexander and I went to Lament, the spirits stayed away. The moment he left, they came out of the woodwork, so to speak. I didn’t put it together at first, but I think that’s why. It’s also possibly the reason my Gran has stayed away.”
“If I’m going to help, I want to know everything. I’ll see your reactions, even if I can’t see Henry. And then you can tell me what he says.”
Zoë hesitated before nodding her agreement. Tossing the dishtowel on the counter, she led Thomas back to the living room where they sat and made themselves comfortable. She picked up the shadow box and turned it glass-side down. With a fingernail, she slit the brown paper on the back. Half way down, it tore straight across the back, so she ripped it the rest of the way and said under her breath, “Sorry, Robert.”
The shadow box had a set of small clasps that held the wooden backing in place. She rotated them easily and turned the glass-side up again, and the two wooden moldings that made up the deep frame slid off. It took a few moments of fiddling to loosen the hidden wires, which held the key to the backing.
Zoë set the frame assembly aside and took the key. It was heavier than she had expected, and the metal felt cool. A tiny thrum went through her hand. She remembered the way Rose had clasped it tight at the moment of her death. “Oh Henry,” Zoë said. “Where are you?”
She wondered if it would work like it had with Alexander and the stone she’d used to summon him. Did she just have to think about Henry and he’d show up? Probably not, or spirits would pop up everywhere on the planet as relatives fondled their inheritances. She’d read stories about people using incense and drawing circles and chanting rituals, but that sounded like hocus-pocus to her. The memory of the cursed fetish Josh Grieve and Ren Jones had used to tie Jackson Burly made her shudder. No matter what, she couldn’t do anything like that.
She closed her eyes and rubbed the metal key, noticing a few spots where it flaked, a couple of bumps in the otherwise smooth and worn surface. Rose came to mind immediately, but Zoë pushed her image aside. The last thing she wanted was for the ever-pregnant spirit to arrive and re-enact her death.
As Zoë struggled, she saw flashes, but couldn’t hold them. She opened her eyes and tensed under the weight of Thomas’ stare. “Relax,” she said to herself, and hoped Thomas would take the hint. Of course he didn’t, so she closed her eyes and ignored him with all her might.
She thought of Henry, let his features fill her mind. His face was so nice. She’d never imagined him as a romantic figure, but she could understand why Rose would have loved him. His dark chocolate-colored skin had wrinkles and furrows, but he had a great face, full of care and personality. Zoë liked the idea of Henry and Rose happy and full of the joy of falling in love, the pitty-pat the heart would do when the image of someone made the world spin out of control.
Alexander intruded into her consciousness, but Zoë couldn’t stand to consider that right now. She let him float away in her thoughts, concentrating on her friend.
The key warmed in her hand. What purpose did it serve? Henry perhaps knew it had some special properties, but the key had belonged to Rose and not Henry. Could Rose have known it too? Or maybe to Rose it was just a key. If so, Zoë could understand Rose enjoying the responsibility. Having a key to the church storehouse probably meant respect to her. Unless… The idea snuck into her head and made her smile. Of course. Neither of them lived alone. They were unmarried. With Rose under the watchful eyes of the Reverend Sprayberry, where would they meet for their moments of illicit passion? The storage room to which only Rose and maybe the Reverend himself had a key. Of course.
Zoë could imagine them sneaking behind that old Methodist Church in the dead of night to hold each other. “Henry, you sly dog,” she said, hoping she was right. She loved the idea of her friend having those happy moments. The images in her mind became more vivid, and the face she’d imagined now began to move, as though speaking. “Henry,” she said. “I need to talk to you.” When she’d summoned Alexander with the stone, she’d done something similar, but also different. She reached out in her mind, conscious of threads of energy extending from the key into another dimension. It flashed. Zoë wondered if its
properties would enhance her abilities even more than a normal object would.
When she opened her eyes, Zoë saw those threads. Like spun gold filaments, they twined and reached into a place she could see, but not reach. Henry stepped forward. He spoke, but she couldn’t hear him. He looked tired and worn, and it broke her heart. Did she do this to him?
“Henry, please.” Then, realizing what she had to do, she said, “Henry. Come here.” She could have used flowery language about calling him forth from the shadows, but that sounded too melodramatic for her taste, and probably for Henry’s too. As soon as the command left her mouth, he shifted from that other hazy realm into her living room and stood in front of her.
“Henry,” she said. “I’m so sorry,” She wanted more than anything to fling her arms around his neck. Instead she touched his arm, ignoring the chill his presence sent down to her bones.
“Miss Zoë,” he said, his weary face smiling.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He glanced to the side, as though listening to something behind him that she couldn’t see. “It’s dark there, Miss Zoë.” His haunted expression disturbed her deeply.
“Why did you run away? I’ve been trying to find you. I want to help. I want to bring you home, and I need to know what happened. If you tell us, we can protect you.”
Then Henry’s eyes widened as he noticed Thomas. He took a small, backward step.
“He wants to help you too. He’s promised me he’ll do everything he can, speak for you to the Higher Angels and tell them you didn’t hurt Kent McGee. I know you didn’t, but you need to tell us what happened.”
Henry retreated, putting a few paces of distance between himself and Thomas. “I swear to you that we can trust him.” Her ferocity and certainty shocked her. Could she trust him? She didn’t have any choice.
“You have Rose’s key,” Henry said, looking at the small object in Zoë’s hand. Then Zoë noticed a small metal ring on Henry’s belt. On it hung the key she’d given him just over a week before. It would take a very strong spirit indeed to perpetually carry around a physical object, but then, this was no ordinary object. “You brought me back,” he added after a moment. He sounded relieved and tired.
“Of course I did. You’re my friend. I’d do anything to help you.”
Thomas spoke quietly. “I can’t see you like Zoë can. But just start from the beginning. Zoë will tell me what you say.”
Henry nodded, not taking his eyes off her, as though looking at Thomas was too uncomfortable to bear. His eyes looked even more glassy as he cast his memory back. “I hoped to see you that day, Miss Zoë.”
She nodded.
“Someone came in. No one ever does except for a few I recognize. But this was someone new, so I stayed back and watched from the shadows. He was a white man, dark hair and he smelled like old tobacco.”
Zoë tilted her head. She hadn’t realized spirits could smell. “I saw him,” she said. “He ran out of the stairwell as I went down.” To Thomas she said, “Peter Delancy. Henry saw him and watched him.”
When she turned back to Henry, the old ghost continued. “He searched around for something. He muttered some words I won’t repeat in front of a lady. I could tell he was angry. Impatient. Then he found my treasures. He seemed confused and in a hurry, but he gathered them up quick as could be.” Henry paused and licked his translucent lips as though they were dry. “I thought I’d jump out at him, see if I couldn’t rattle him. I don’t know if it would have worked. I’ve never tried before, but then Kent McGee came in.”
Zoë caught Thomas up and then asked Henry, “What happened next?”
“Why, Mr. McGee yelled at him. Said to get his hands off your things, Miss Zoë.”
“Wait, he said that?”
“Yes. He said first, ‘Who are you?’, and then when he saw what the man was doing, he yelled, ‘Those are Zoë’s. You get out before I call the cops.’ Something like that. That scared the man. I could tell. Kent was none too young, and I think he got a bad feeling from him.”
“I had no idea anyone knew about our treasures,” she said quietly.
“A few of them knew. They like you, Miss Zoë. None of them can see me, but a few seem to know I’m around. Hadn’t you heard?”
She smiled slowly. “No. I thought I was the only one.”
“Nah, I’m a legend at Fiskers.” Henry smiled as though the idea pleased him, and then his face darkened as his thoughts went back to his story. “They had words, them two. That man saying nasty things, threatening Mr. McGee.”
Zoë sat upright. “Did he hit Kent?”
“Didn’t have to. Poor Mr. McGee got all dark in the face, and started to jerk like someone had snapped his spine up. He clutched his chest, and his heart gave out.”
Zoë closed her eyes and told Thomas what Henry had said.
“That man was cold. Even with Mr. McGee lying there on the ground, he looked around to make sure he had gotten all my keys.”
“But he didn’t get all of them, did he?” She pointed to the key on Henry’s belt.
“No, Miss Zoë.” The old spirit’s hand went to the key, and a play of eerie light caught her eye. “This one is special, so I keep it close.” His voice wavered with uncertainty.
Zoë nodded and sighed. “Henry, why didn’t you come and get me?” He wasn’t part of the living world anymore, so she had no right to expect him to act like it, but it bothered her nonetheless. Spirits had their own rules, their own view of right and wrong.
“I thought of that, Miss Zoë, but then I heard the alarm.”
“Alarm?” she said. “What alarm?”
“I don’t rightly know. Like a beacon calling down thunder.” Henry looked distraught, as though he blamed himself.
Zoë hated that she’d assumed he wouldn’t have tried to help Kent. She pushed aside her guilt, figuring she’d have plenty of time to sort that out, and asked Thomas about the alarm. “Does that make any sense to you?”
“Actually, yes. Henry is, like you, a person of interest to the celestial circle.”
Zoë remembered Alexander telling her that before, but she had been so preoccupied she hadn’t asked him to clarify. “But Henry isn’t psychic or a medium. Are you, Henry?”
“Angels got nothing to worry about from me. There’s nothing special about me.”
Thomas went on. “I first heard about the Portal Keepers years ago, but never paid much attention. They’re rare, and always of fairy blood. I knew he was a person of interest, of course, and I suspected his talent when you told me about his obsession with keys.”
“Portal Keepers?” Zoë said. “You didn’t say anything before.”
At the exact same moment Henry said, “Fairy blood?”
Thomas nodded to Zoë, having not heard Henry’s question. “They protect the portals that lead to a shadow realm, the place Henry has been hiding. Mortals can walk through the fringes of a specific astral realm, but accessing these places isn’t easy. The most common way is a portal. Only a Keeper can open it, and he must have a mordicite key. There is such a door in Fiskers. That’s likely why Henry has lived there. The door would have called to him.”
“Mordicite?” Like the chaos blade. Alexander had told her mordicite wasn’t from the mortal realm.
“The keys are not pure mordicite, but each of them has it blended into its core during the forging. If it was pure, I could not touch it. Even with it encased in ordinary human metal, I can feel it when I get close. This is a true portal key. I’m certain.”
Zoë suddenly remembered the forbidding door in the back of the Fiskers boiler room. The one no one ever opened. The one that had looked different and disturbed after Henry’s departure. She turned to Henry. “Did you use that key in the Fiskers door?” She pointed to the key on Henry’s belt.
Henry fondled the key and frowned. It glowed as though it was caught halfway between the spirit world and the physical, living world. “I must have. Yes,” he said. “Yes, and it remi
nded me of another time…”
“Wait, are we assuming Delancy would have known this? Then wouldn’t he also know immediately the other keys weren’t magical?”
“If Delancy is a Portal Keeper, an angel or a demon, yes, he would know right away, and possibly the fae, but I’m not certain. There are other abilities out there, some more like yours, Zoë. It could be the keys only look different to him in the presence of a Portal Keeper, or perhaps he senses astral or celestial objects, or any number of abilities. He would have known his key wasn’t there, but taken the others back to test them. So if he’s not a Portal Keeper himself, it’s possible he’s working with one.”
“He wasn’t an angel, of that I’m certain. When I saw him at Fiskers, he just seemed like a regular human. I don’t know if demons or the fae would look different to me.” She raised an eyebrow at Thomas.
“I don’t know. My guess is you would sense something about a demon, since they share much of their nature with my people. The fae are more like humans, at least in that sense.”
One of these days, Zoë thought, she would sit some angel down and get him to explain the universe to her. Until then, she had to press on. “What about this alarm?”
“The Guardians are watchers.” Thomas said. “Two people of interest in the same room with an unexpected and violent death, with another.” Thomas nodded toward Zoë. “On the way? Yes, a Guardian would sound the alarm.”
“I don’t understand,” Zoë said. “If they were watching, wouldn’t they know Henry didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Fully-trained Guardians are given abilities something like yours, Zoë. They can see the spirits of humans who, for whatever reason, have remained in the mortal realm. They also can sense violence. Henry’s Guardian would have felt it and summoned the Powers. Guardians do not stay close to human spirits, since they cannot remain hidden from them, which is why neither of you have ever seen him. But they keep tabs on a person of interest as long as they are a part of the mortal timeline. Unlike you, we do not have to look at someone to track them and know their condition.”
Ordinary Angels Page 19