An Angel On Her Shoulder

by Dan Alatorre

  “Right after I met with you. The next day.”

  “Okay. What do you owe her?”

  “I don’t know. A favor. Something good.”

  “That could be a lot of things.” Tyree was quiet for a moment. “I probably have something here you could use.”

  I shifted on my feet. “Whatever you have, it’s gotta be pretty good.”

  “I’d say a relic cross fits that description. You can pick it up when you come over.”

  “It’s a what?”

  “A relic cross,” he repeated. “A cross with a holy relic in the middle of it. This one is a big, heavy sucker. White, with a glass bead in the center. That holds a small patch of cloth with a tiny little sliver on it.”

  I knew about relics from the nuns. The patch of material came from a larger piece that touched a saint—alive or not. Creepy, to think of church elders rubbing old bones with a sheet. The sliver might be a part of a crucifixion cross or a shaving from a bone.

  I slid to the pantry floor and sat on the cold tiles. “Where did you get something like that?”

  “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answers to.”

  “How much did you pay for it?” A twinge of nerves shot through me. “It’s not stolen, is it?”

  “Calm down. It was a gift. You can’t buy these things, and you can’t sell them. But it might make a formidable tool for us to use against the dark angel.”

  Tool?

  I rubbed the back of my neck, my angst and frustration growing. “Speaking of . . . that, why is it waiting? Why doesn’t it come do whatever it’s going to do?”

  “You can’t consider this only from our perspective,” Tyree explained. “You have to view it differently. Time is relative. Think of yourself in a room. On one side, there’s one of those giant tortoises. It’s huge, like maybe four feet long. On the other side is a tiny little fruit fly that’s buzzing around.

  “When you look at the tortoise, he seems like he's moving very slowly. When you look at the fly, it’s moving very fast—compared to you.”

  I sat on the cold tile floor, the phone pressed to my ear, absorbing every word.

  “Now, if the tortoise looks at you, he sees you moving really fast—like the way the fly looks to you. Meanwhile, the fly probably moves so fast, the tortoise can’t even perceive it.

  “When the fly looks at you, he sees a tortoise. When the fly looks at the tortoise, it moves so glacially slow, it might as well be a rock from the fly’s viewpoint. He probably can’t see that it moves at all. To the tortoise, the fly moves at the speed of light, if he can even fathom it at all.

  “All three of you—the fly, you, and the tortoise—are in the same room at the same time. But obviously, time is very, very different to each of you. So what might count as one day to the tortoise, might be a year to the fly. Get it?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I think so.” It was a lot to take in.

  “That’s how it could work with these dark angels. What is a year to us might only be a day to them. You can’t expect things to happen on your time table. Things are working on their time table.” He paused, clearing his throat. “But I have a question for you. Last night, you mentioned dreams. Recurring dreams, I think you said.”

  I stretched my legs out and leaned against the shelves. “Uh, yeah, that’s right.”

  “What can you tell me about that?”

  “Well.” I took a deep breath. “I had a nightmare about lions in the woods. One by one, three different lions walked past me and ripped at this package. But it wasn’t a package. When the fourth lion showed up, the package . . . was a child. Sophie.” I swallowed hard. Just thinking about the dream again made me uneasy. “Needless to say, it was a terrible nightmare.”

  “Needless to say.”

  “In the morning, I told Mallory about it. She’d been having the same dream.”

  “Wow.”

  “She said she didn’t tell it to me on purpose.”

  “I bet. It caught my ear when you mentioned dreams last night, but I didn’t want to get into it then. A dream can be important, some kind of indicator. But if both of you are having the same dream, that’s no coincidence. That’s a sign.”

  I wiped my hand across my forehead, my stomach tightening. “Of what?”

  “There were three lions that didn’t really do much to . . . the package, right?”

  “Right.” I put a hand on the cold tile and shifted my weight.

  “And there were three tragedies, as you guys call them. Now, they were all bad, I’m not saying they weren’t. You got a good scare each time—but you walked away from them, right?”

  “I guess so, yeah . . .” I huffed. “Where are you going with this?”

  “It was the fourth lion that ripped up the package.” Tyree said. “A fourth tragedy.”

  My pulse quickened. I sat up, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Another event is coming. We’ve got a hurricane going on. It’s starting to look like a coalescence of events. All that chaos—the severe weather—would make a good cover. Things have escalated with each tragedy.”

  I leaned forward. “And?”

  “And the next one will be bigger. It will be fatal.”

  My mind was a blur, my pulse racing. There were a million reasons to get in the car and go to Atlanta right now, and there were a million reasons not to.

  I sat on the floor, panting.

  At least Atlanta didn’t have a hurricane, but in a few days we would—maybe in less than a few days. If that was the being’s cover, it could be eliminated from the equation. Which might save us all.

  “Okay, that’s it.” I took a deep breath, nodding. “We’re heading out tomorrow morning. First thing. Maybe sooner. To Atlanta.”

  “I think you’ve made a really good decision.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the time. “We should be on the road by, say 10 A. M.”

  “10 A. M.?” Tyree snorted. “That’s first thing?”

  I frowned. “I have a wife and kid, so yeah, 10 A. M. Then we’ll be traveling in broad daylight and on the highway before the roads get closed. Which all sounds pretty good to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. “If everything goes well, we should be checking in to the freaking Peachtree hotel in downtown Atlanta around 6 P. M.”

  “And, you’re still coming to me at noon today at my office.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  I hung up. I had been in the pantry for quite a while. Now it was time to see who else was up and around. I needed to get things moving without creating a panic.

  The living room was empty. Even Sparkles hadn’t come down yet. That meant everyone was still asleep and hadn’t heard any of what Tyree and I had discussed.

  Good.

  I grabbed the remote and turned on the weather channel, rubbing the knot in my stomach. Maybe we should evacuate right now. I checked the time on my phone again. I had to meet Tyree in a few hours. Maybe I should pack everybody into the car and meet him, then keep on going to Atlanta.

  Chapter 38

  “Dad, what’s that noise?” My daughter sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, playing with her Barbies.

  “It’s rain coming down hard on the roof.” I pulled an extra shirt from the closet. “What does it sound like growling? Or purring?”

  “Purring.”

  Good answer. I don’t want her to be scared.

  “I think it sounds like purring, too. We’re not afraid of some rain, are we?”

  “No.”

  Right answer, wrong tone. She was nervous.

  “C’mere.” I exited the closet and squatted down, letting her fall into my open arms. I rubbed her back as she wrapped her little arms around my neck. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

  She lifted her head and peered over my shoulder, whispering. “When's it gonna stop?”

  I turned and stared at the swaying oaks, their limbs f
lailing wildly in the nonstop wind and rain. “Soon.”

  I got up and patted her head, trying to act natural and avoid getting everyone more scared than they already were. The plan was simple. Make a quick stop at Tyree’s office to pick up the relic cross, get back home to finish packing, and head out of town tomorrow morning. Aside from a little rain and wind, what could be simpler?

  To answer my question, the wind slammed another band of rain onto the roof. I flinched. Maybe Sophie should be playing downstairs.

  I grabbed the last t-shirt I wanted and stuffed it into my bag, heading for the stairs. “Come on, honey. Let’s play down here.”

  Our garage was a separate structure, attached to our house by a breezeway—a little roof section that went to a side door and offered almost no protection when the rain was falling sideways. With Sophie parked in front of the TV, I ran the short distance from the back door to the garage door, through the torrents of rain. Hitting the button to open the overhead door, I squeezed past Mallory’s car to mine.

  Dripping only from my head, I slipped the key into the Navigator’s ignition and turned it. Its big engine groaned a little, instead of the usual growl of a V-8, then nothing.

  I glared at the dashboard indicator lights. “Don’t tell me . . .”

  I gritted my teeth and twisted the key again. This time, a series of clicks emanated from under the hood, then silence.

  I mean, nothing.

  Dead battery.

  I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and shook it. “What the hell? What the hell!” I pounded my fist into the center console. “Is that voodoo priestess sapping my good luck already?”

  The wind whipped up again, the howls coming to me a little too clearly to have been obscured by a closed up vehicle. I twisted around to inspect the inside of the car. The rear passenger door was open. I had it open yesterday when I was putting the flashlights into the car, but I got distracted when Tyree drove up, and I never shut it. The light being on all night drained the old car’s battery.

  “Ohhhhhh.” I laid my head on the steering wheel and shut my eyes. “How could I be so stupid?”

  That’s a nice little delay there, Mr. Planner.

  I put my elbow on the window and rubbed my eyes, working to control my rising blood pressure. No problem. We had jumper cables, and Mallory’s car battery would be fine to supply a charge to mine. I’d hook ‘em up and get a jump, then get over to Tyree’s.

  Which would be easy on a normal day. Just back the two cars out of the garage and hook up the jumper cables. But in this insane wind and rain, I’d get soaked.

  Maybe electrocuted to boot. Bad plan.

  I sat in my car tapping the steering wheel. If I backed both cars out a few feet, I could get access to the battery from the front and still be inside the garage. I could hook up the cables and get the Navigator started without getting wet. It would take a few minutes, but it would work.

  I’ll just call him and let him know I’ll be late.

  Good plan. I ran back through the rain to the house for Mallory’s keys.

  A little wetter, I called Tyree—no answer. I left a message and returned my focus to the cars.

  I ran to the garage through the rain. I told myself it was faster than using the breezeway door and even though I was halfway soaked, having made three trips through the rain, I would have been just as wet going the other route.

  I could still get the car jumped without becoming fully soaked, though, and without getting electrocuted.

  I backed up Mallory’s car, and left it running. Then I hopped in my car and put it in neutral, hopped back out and pushed it a few feet. Grabbing the jumper cables, I hooked up the two batteries.

  I let the cars sit for a moment to help charge the Navigator, using the time to fling water from my arms and hair. Then I jumped back into my car to turn on the ignition.

  No car keys.

  Where the hell did they go?

  I stared at the ignition in disbelief. I had the freaking keys a minute ago when I put the stupid car in neutral and pushed it back. I checked my pockets. Nope. Not there . . .

  Maybe I dropped them.

  I threw open the door and jumped out, scouring the ground. I retraced my steps: got in the car, turned on the ignition, pushed the car back. I thought I left the keys in the ignition.

  I looked at the clock on the wall. I was already twenty minutes late to get to Tyree’s. I scowled and checked my pockets again, ready to pull the linings out.

  Where are those keys?

  I looked under both cars. I looked in Mallory’s car, which was still running. I looked inside the open hood of the Navigator.

  I glared at the house, only a few wet feet away. A spare set of keys hung on a hook in the hallway.

  I checked my pockets again. Maybe the keys would appear on the third pat down. Nope.

  With a sigh of frustration I ran through the rain again, cursing the voodoo priestess for foreclosing on my luck already. Dripping wet, I sloshed to the hallway and grabbed the keys, stomping back through the rain to the cars.

  Steaming mad and soaking wet, I seriously considered stripping before climbing into the Navigator. I was drenched, and I’d get the seats drenched, too. Then I’d have to sit on wet seats the whole way to Atlanta. There was no way they’d dry out overnight. Not in this weather.

  I stripped.

  My underwear was still partially dry on the butt, so I didn’t have to go totally commando. I yanked open the driver’s door to the Navigator and climbed in. As I went to grab a fast food napkin from the stash inside the center console to dry my face, I glanced at the cup holders.

  There were my keys.

  I pounded the wheel, lucky my daughter couldn’t hear me over the howling wind. How did I not see that on three separate checks? What is wrong with me?

  I turned the key, and my Navigator roared to life.

  I closed my eyes and sat back. Thank you.

  I sat for a moment, wet and nearly naked, considering my next moves. It made sense to go back inside and get into some dry clothes. And to use an umbrella for the return trip to the car. Then I just needed to call Tyree and tell him I was finally on the way—after I dried off and changed clothes.

  I stared at the garage clock. I was now an hour late.

  Inside the house, I left another message for Tyree and dug an umbrella out of the hall closet—but didn’t fully open it. If I held it close to my head like a giant hat, I could keep some rain off me without the wind ripping the umbrella open and tearing it to pieces. Opened fully, the massive gusts of wind would pop it upside down and rip the rainproof nylon from their little steel ribs.

  I was bothered when Tyree didn’t answer. The power was probably out, which happened at our house all the time in big storms, but still. The dull ache growing in my stomach wasn’t from hunger. The cell towers were down in his area. That happened during the last hurricane, too.

  I gripped the wheel tightly as I drove, leaning forward toward the windshield to see. The rain came down so hard the wipers barely made a difference. There would be a lot of wrecks from people who couldn’t see in this kind of rain. Add in the sudden wind gusts and drivers would feel like the steering wheel was being ripped from their hands. Next thing you know, they’re driving into a tree a hundred feet from the road.

  But for now, I had some flashlights in case the power was out at Tyree’s office. That was about it.

  The rain was like driving in a waterfall. The wind banged away at my car, pushing it into the gutter one moment and over the center line the next. I squeezed the wheel harder, fighting to maintain control and driving slow.

  Tyree’s relic cross had better be worth all this effort.

  The twenty minute drive took nearly twice that. As I pulled into the business park near the airport where Tyree kept his office, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles streamed across the lot. Lots of them.

  I pounded the wheel and cursed. More delays.

  My windshield
wipers swiped away the torrents of rain, refilling instantly like some kid was on the roof pouring buckets down the glass.

  I double checked the address he’d given me. Police and fire rescue vehicles were blocking access to half of the buildings.

  I figured I could probably park and then walk around the cop cars to Tyree’s office.

  “Hey!” A loud shout assaulted my ear. I jumped, turning to the voice.

  A police officer in a poncho rapped his knuckles on my window. “That way.” He waved a red-tipped flashlight in the direction of the other end of the lot. “You can park over there. This area is blocked.”

  I nodded and pulled around to the left, grabbing for the umbrella. It wouldn’t do much good in this rain—the swirling winds would smack me from all sides and I’d be drenched in two minutes—but hopefully I could get to Tyree’s unit.

  Bracing my umbrella against the wind, I made my way up to the traffic officer and shouted over the howling storm. “I need to get into one of these units for a meeting.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “In this weather?” His poncho clung to his frame, glued there by the incessant rushing wind. “I hope it’s important. What unit number?”

  “I was just thinking that I should reschedule,” I said. “I’m starting to think that nothing’s important enough to be out in this.”

  The cop nodded.

  My umbrella smacked me in the head with each gust of wind. Digging the address out of my pocket, I read it to him. “Building 8, unit 8191.”

  He shook his head, squinting against the stinging rain. “No can do. That’s the building they’re here for.”

  My stomach lurched.

  He pointed his red flashlight at the squad cars. “A break in. Pretty nasty. I don’t know what unit, though. I got pulled in to help with traffic.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  A huge rush of wind up-ended my umbrella, ripping it from my hands and tossing it down the road. In an instant, it was a hundred yards away and still moving.

  I rubbed my stomach and glanced at the officer. “Is it okay if I check with the investigating officers, to see if I can get into this unit?” I pointed at Tyree’s business card.