by Tanya Huff
“But they can lie to themselves. Lena once honestly believed she saw an image of Leonardo DiCaprio in a bowl of butterscotch pudding, throwing the female half of the ninth grade into hysterics for the remainder of lunch.”
“Really?”
Diana nodded. “It wasn’t pretty.”
“Well, this time she isn’t lying to anyone, herself or us.” Claire sat back on her heels and waved a hand around the room. “There’s distinct residue under the darkness. It’s obvious once you know to check for it.”
“Oh, yeah. Obvious angel residue. That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”
“Diana, this is serious.”
“Okay, I’m being serious.” Picking up the Backstreet Boys mug, she made a face and put it down again. “Question is, why would an angel appear to Lena? Obsession isn’t enough to open the possibilities that wide. You think it was sent with a message?”
“Can’t have or it would have vanished once the message was delivered, and she said that her father took it away.”
“Maybe it got taken away before the message got delivered.”
“No, it would never have allowed that to happen. A message from the light gets delivered, regardless. An angry father would’ve stood about as much chance facing down a determined angel as he would have facing down a runaway transport with pretty much the same result. Here’s a better question: how could the possibilities have opened that wide without me noticing?”
“That’s easy. If they opened last night, you were busy.” Eyes narrowed, Diana grinned suddenly. “Are you blushing?”
“No.” Claire didn’t even try to make the denial sound convincing. Given the heat of her cheeks, there didn’t seem to be much point. “So why didn’t you notice?”
“Beats me. Must’ve gotten lost in that whole peace-and-joy stuff. You know what it’s like around this time of the year.”
“True enough.”
“And since it was from the upper end of things, it’s not really our problem anyway.”
“True again.” She traced a third symbol, and the noise level upstairs began to fall off. “That’s put a temporary cover over the site, but I’m going to need details to actually seal it.”
“Like?”
“Like why would a basically decent man take a swing at a messenger of the light.”
“Is that what opened the hole?”
“Diana, Mr. Giorno punched an angel; what do you think?”
“Just checking.” Leaning forward, Diana brushed a bit of thick, dark hair back off of Lena’s face and softly called her name. “Don’t wake up,” she instructed when the sleeping girl began to stir, “just tell me, without getting angry, why your father hit the angel.”
“He was naked.”
“Your father?” Given the amount of hair curling up through the opening of Mr. Giorno’s collar and right down to his knuckles, that was an image Diana quickly banished.
“Not my father. The angel.”
“The angel was naked?”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled slightly. “I saw his thing.”
“Lena, angels don’t have things.”
“I know that.” Even asleep she managed the emphasis. “But he did. I think…” Her brow furrowed. “I think my father gave it to him. It was big.”
“And your basis of comparison would be?”
“Diana!”
Without turning, she flapped a hand at her sister to shut off further protests. “You can get back to me later on that, Lena. Right now, you drift off again and I’ll call you if I need you.”
“O…” A long sigh. “…kay.”
After checking to see that she’d gone deep again, Diana stood and spread her arms triumphantly, modifying the gesture somewhat to catch the cherub she’d knocked off a shelf. “Ta dah. Her father burst into her room as Lena’s obsession was manifesting a naked angel, jumped to the fatherly conclusion, and slugged the guy.”
Claire rolled her eyes and added a little more power as the cover shifted. “Only a teenager would manifest a naked angel.”
“Get over it. You manifested a naked Dean all last night.”
“That’s not the…”
“And ignored a Summons—this Summons—while you were doing it. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t have done the same thing under similar circumstances. All I’m saying is that you have no cause to be pointing the finger at someone else’s hormones.”
After a long moment, during which several high-pitched voices could be heard insisting that they hadn’t touched the gravy and they didn’t know what was floating in it, Claire sighed. “Okay. You have a point. And since he might have had clothing had things not been interrupted and since her father seems to have added the…uh…thing…”
Diana snorted. “You know, Claire, if you’re playing with one, you really should be able to name it.”
This was more than Claire could take from a sister ten years younger. “Good,” she snapped, “because I was thinking of calling it Floyd!” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth and snapped her teeth closed just a little too late to catch them. From the way Diana’s eyes lit up, she knew she’d be paying for that comment for the rest of her natural life. And possibly longer. “Let’s just get back to work,” she suggested sharply, her tone a preemptive strike. “I’ll seal this. You clear the hatred out of your friend.”
“Sure.”
“Diana…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
“That wasn’t…” When Diana lifted an eyebrow in exact mimicry of Claire’s best sardonic expression, Claire had to laugh, in spite of what would be inevitable later. “…what I meant, as you very well knew.”
“Yeah. But I’ll still be careful.” She sat back down on the edge of the bed and gently turned Lena’s face toward her. “Although the urge to do something about her decorating is extreme.”
“…but did you ever stop to think that perhaps they didn’t want quite so many chestnuts in the stuffing?” Claire asked as they picked their way up the icy front path to the truck.
Diana shrugged. “Beats what was in there before I fixed it. And that, by the way, is why you should never keep the litter box in the kitchen.”
Things were back to normal in the Giorno household. Tree and dinner had been restored, gifts repaired, the cat appeased, and family tensions resolved. The site it had involved considerably more cleanup than a Keeper would normally perform, but—as Diana pointed out just before the cat knocked the tree over again with no help at all from the dark possibilities—it was Christmas.
Dean jerked awake when Claire opened the passenger door. “Everything fixed, then?”
“Everything we could fix,” she acknowledged as she kicked the snow off her boots and slid over beside him. “Sorry it took so long.”
“That’s all right. Your thing kept the truck warm.”
“Her thing?” Diana snickered, climbing in. “Got a name for it?”
“Ignore her,” Claire advised, hoping Dean would assume her ears were red from the cold.
From the look in his eyes, he didn’t.
He glanced at Diana, then back at her, but only said, “Where to now?”
“Back to pick up our stuff and then south, we’ve got another Summons.”
“Another Summons?” Martha Hansen set the roasting pan on the stove top and lifted an indignant Austin down off the counter before she turned to face her daughters. “Do you think it concerns the angel?”
“Unlikely. Mr. Giorno took him to Father Harris over at St. Patrick’s, so that should be the last we see of him.”
“Him?”
Claire shot a look at Diana, saw she had a mouthful of dill pickle, and reluctantly continued. “Apparently, he somehow acquired gender during the manifestation.”
“Gender?”
Diana swallowed and snickered. “Means just what you think, Mom.”
“Oh, the poor boy! He must be so confused.”
“Confused? Surprised maybe,
” Diana allowed, perching on the corner of the kitchen table and tossing a hot roll from hand to hand. “But it’s not like they’re that difficult to operate. It’s pretty much point and click.” She glanced around the suddenly silent kitchen. “You know, metaphorically speaking. Okay,” she sighed, “they don’t actually click, but you’ve got to admit they point.” Catching her parents exchanging a meaningful look over the mashed potatoes, she tossed the roll to Dean and spread her hands. “What?”
“We’ll talk later,” Martha said tightly. “Right now,” she turned to Claire and gathered her into her arms, “you’d better get going.”
Austin’s head snapped up from where he was investigating a bit of spilled grease. “Excuse me? I have been waiting five hours for that bird to come out of the oven; that Summons can just wait for twenty more minutes.”
“We don’t know how long it’s been waiting already,” Claire reminded him as she crossed the kitchen to hug her father. “Things got a little stacked up, remember?”
“So I should suffer?”
Martha bent and stroked his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll pack up a box of food while Claire and Dean are getting their things together.”
“You know that this is your second Summons this morning,” Diana complained, sliding to her feet as Claire stopped in front of her. “You’ve had two today and I’ve had none. How unfair is that?”
“You’re not on active duty yet.”
“But I’m on vacation. And I’m so available.”
“And if something opens up that’s serious enough to need you, you’ll be Summoned. Just like you were when I needed you in Kingston.” Reaching out, Claire touched her sister on the cheek. “Everything’ll change once school’s over in June. I know it’s hard when there’s so many more important things you feel you should be doing, but you’ll get through it. I did.”
“Don’t patronize me.” The answering shove rocked Claire on her feet. “And don’t forget your presents. And be careful. And let Dean help. Really help, not just hang around and pick up after you.”
“I will.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good enough.” She stepped back. “Well; go.”
About to turn for the door, Dean found himself pulled into a motherly embrace. He hesitated for a moment, then he returned it and was curiously reluctant to let go when Martha pulled away. Although his mother had died when he was a baby, he’d always felt her love in his life. He’d had no memory of ever feeling her arms, though. Until now.
As though she could sense his reluctance, Martha reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m very glad that you and Claire have found each other, Dean McIssac. You’re a good man; strong, steady…”
“Mom,” Diana interrupted, sitting back on the edge of the table and picking up another roll, “Claire’s trying to answer a Summons. This isn’t the time to write Dean’s eulogy.”
He shot a questioning glance at the younger Keeper. “Eulogy?”
“You’ll be fine.” Martha patted his arm.
“I know.” He shifted his weight. “I just wondered what eulogy meant.”
“Obituary.”
“Oh.”
She patted his arm again. “You’ll be fine.”
“Sure.”
“As long as he’s ready for what he’s dealing with,” John Hansen reflected, putting down the carving knife and wiping his fingers on a dish towel.
One hand still outstretched and hovering over Dean’s sleeve, Martha turned toward her husband. “Won’t it be what he’s been dealing with?”
“That’s not a certainty. Thing’s have changed between them. Probably for the better, but he’ll be in some unusual positions for a Bystander.”
Dean’s ears were suddenly so hot he was afraid they’d ignited. Unusual positions? How had Claire’s father found out about…then he realized he’d misunderstood.
“Well, they’re not going to run into anything he can’t handle,” Martha declared. “I can’t imagine anything worse than what he’s already faced in the Elysian Fields Guest House.”
“I can.”
“Austin, be quiet.” Claire bent, scooped up the cat, and handed him to Dean.
“Hey! Support the back legs!” Hooking his front claws into a flannel collar, Austin heaved himself into a more comfortable position as Dean adjusted his grip. “I’m old. I don’t dangle.”
“Sorry.”
“Dangling! Honestly.”
Claire smoothed the ridge of fur along his spine. “Let it go, Austin.”
“He was holding a roll. I have crumbs in my tail.”
“I’ll brush them out as soon as we’re on the road.” She hooked two fingers in behind the faded blue of Dean’s waistband and tugged him toward the door. “Say good-bye, Dean.”
“Good-bye, Dean.”
At least he made the cat laugh.
It isn’t fair. Diana ran the vacuum at the bits of broken glass and felt a sulky satisfaction as Laa Laa and Saint Matthew disappeared. I should be out changing the world like Claire—not going to stupid school. Stupid, useless waste of time. A swath of clean carpet appeared, bisecting Jesus and Po. I’m so tired of Claire getting to do everything first. Got to get her ears pierced first, got to graduate from high school first, got to travel to a tropical island and narrowly avoid having the entire place follow Atlantis to the bottom first. No, wait, that was me. And in the end, the whole thing had been nothing more than a damp misunderstanding.
The head of the vacuum cleaner was too broad to reach the last few pieces of glass. Realizing that she needed an attachment, Diana bounced it impotently against the hearth instead. My life sucks. Claire gets a Summons. Lena gets an angel. What do I get? A bunch of burst lights.
And let’s not forget Claire also gets Dean. And Floyd. Snickering to herself, she started on Dipsy and St. Peter. A memorable Christmas Eve for all three of them. Which may not be what I want from life, it’s just…
…just…
Something lingered at the edge of memory, almost but not quite dredged up by her train of thought. Absently running the vacuum over the same bit of carpet, she started working back.
Christmas Eve.
Claire gets Dean.
Burst lights.
Lena gets angel.
She stepped on the switch and shut the vacuum off and could just barely hear Dean’s truck starting up over the sudden pounding of her heart.
Her mother hurried into the front hall as she yanked open the door. “If you’re going out to the truck, take this with you.”
The smell of turkey rising from the box made questions about contents redundant. She snatched it up without breaking stride.
“Diana, your boots!”
“No time! I’ve got to catch Claire before she leaves.” As Claire would say, Keepers didn’t keep vital information from other Keepers. Which was not to say that Diana ever actually listened to what Claire said or had any intention of telling her what had actually happened to that Best of John Denver CD. Box tucked under one arm, she sprinted forward.
“Yes!” Austin jumped up onto the top of the seat where he had an unimpeded view through the back window. “Here comes the food!”
Claire twisted around until she could see Diana racing down the front path. “How can you tell what she’s carrying from here?”
“I’m a cat.”
A vein began throbbing on Claire’s forehead. “Why do I even ask?”
Wondering that himself, Dean rolled down the window as Diana hit an icy patch and slid to a sudden impact against his door.
“I know where the angel came from,” she announced before anyone in the truck could speak. “I was right, Lena’s obsessions didn’t open the possibilities, and I was also right about you being distracted.”
“What are you talking about?”
Diana grinned, passed the box to Dean, and poked the forefinger on her right hand through a circle made by the thumb and forefinger on her left. “You
opened the hole and Lena’s desire to see an angel was strong enough to define what came through.”
“No.” Claire shook her head. “Even if we did open the possibilities…”
“You did.”
She looked down at the cat. “Excuse me?”
“Way open. Way, way open.” He scratched his shoulder. “It was pretty impressive actually.”
“So much for all those safe sex lectures, eh?”
“Get stuffed. And stop making that disgusting gesture. It wasn’t like that.”
“Was it like this?” Diana barely had time to change the position of her fingers before Dean reached out and enclosed both her hands in one of his.
“No,” he said quietly, ears scarlet. “It wasn’t like that either.”
Suddenly feeling both embarrassed and mean and not much liking the feeling, Diana pulled free. Teasing Dean was somehow not the same as teasing Claire. But I’m not apologizing. I mean, if he can’t take a joke…“Look, I saw it, too, what Austin saw, but I never connected it with Lena because that kind of thing always dissipates after, giving everyone in the immediate area a happy.”
“It should have dissipated,” Claire agreed. Her eyes narrowed as she read her sister’s body language. “Why didn’t it?”
“My bad. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Okay, jeez. Totally. I made this decoration for the school’s Christmas dance that would gather up all the good feelings and spit them back out intensified to make more good feelings, and I think I made the attraction too strong…”
“Quel surprise,” Austin muttered.
“…and it pulled in the light, giving it sort of a proto-form that kept it together until it got to Lena.”
“Where it became an angel.” Claire sighed. “Well, it could have been worse. He probably returned to the light as soon as his head cleared from that punch.”
“You think?”
“All the background information we have suggests angels can come and go through the barrier as they please. If you were him and you’d had the welcome he’d had, wouldn’t you go back where you came from? Now, as nice as it is to have those questions answered,” she continued when Diana nodded, “the hole created by reaction to the angel’s appearance has been sealed, and I’ve got other work to do.”