by Anela Deen
“You told me you’d be working late,” I pointed out.
“Unless there’s an emergency, obviously. If I’d known, I wouldn’t still be at the office now.”
Exhausted, my nerves frayed from the day, I spoke without thinking. “I really didn’t think you’d care that much.”
The silence that followed had the weight of ten elephants.
“Your nana and I have a complicated relationship, but when something’s going on, we show up for each other,” she informed me in that whip sharp mom-tone I’d only heard once or twice in my life.
“I guess I didn’t think you two liked one another.”
“Our dynamic is none of your business. If there’s an emergency, you are to call immediately, do you understand?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you’re right,” I said, feeling like a profound heel. “I did give the hospital your number in case they call during the night. Visiting hours start at eight tomorrow.”
“Do you want to drive together?”
I hesitated. I couldn’t really tell her that I’d be out repaying a favor to a witchdoctor who sold my debt to a coven, and I wasn’t sure I’d be back in time to carpool.
“I have a job early tomorrow morning.” Not a lie. Three a.m. counted as tomorrow morning. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Fine.” She paused, her voice deeply unhappy as she said, “Don’t do this again, Sam.”
“I promise.”
When I pulled into the driveway at home, my stomach growled loudly. I hadn’t thought about food with all that happened, and my last meal had been Mrs. Shu’s lunch special. All I had in my cupboard was cornflakes but I was too tired to leave again. Hopefully, it was the dinner of champions as well.
As I plodded up the steps at the side of the garage to my apartment, I spotted my mother’s picnic cooler on the doormat. With a frown I flipped open the lid and dug through a layer of half-melted ice. Wrapped in cellophane, baked chicken asado shared a plate with a hearty portion of rice and beans, slices of avocado, and lime wedges.
This was no cooler. It was a treasure chest. A moist note lay on top. I picked it up.
For Sam. Te quiero mucho. Nana
I thought of her alone in her hospital bed and closed my eyes, crushing the note against my chest.
At some point I was going to get to the last layer of this rotten onion of a day, right?
Chapter 12
With a three-a.m. appointment I thought it best to turn in early. Being a night owl and one of those people who had trouble shutting off their mind at night, that strategy failed epically. Around ten o’clock I gave up, got out of bed and flopped on my threadbare couch. At least here I had the company of TV.
I laid back and let it level out my brainwaves, coasting gratefully toward that cozy nothing. There was still time to sneak in a couple hours of sleep and I had the alarm on.
My eyes drifted closed.
“Hello, Sam.”
I nearly hit the ceiling.
Limbs flailing, I lunged for the side table lamp. My arm threw over my water glass. It shattered against the wood paneled floor. I switched on the light.
Alice stood there looking bemused.
I glared at her slack-jawed and clutching my chest. “Trying to drum up business?”
She smirked. “You seem a bit tense.”
“To Death appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night? You could say that.” I sat up, trying to catch my breath. Then I froze. “Wait, you’re not here to collect me, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I exhaled in relief. “Well, knock it off or I’m getting a bell on you.”
She laughed, the sound of her mirth both dreadful and delightful, like an ice-cream headache.
I realized her presence provided a rare opportunity and the question nearly burst from my mouth.
“My nana isn’t on your list, is she?”
“The names of all are on my list.”
“Right, but she’s not an upcoming request?”
Her gaze turned inward, tracked left to right, and then refocused. “She’s not on my immediate roster.”
The tension pinned between my shoulders eased a little. Finally, some good news. I hopped over the back of the couch to avoid the shards of glass.
“Is this just a social call then? Most people use the front door for those.”
I grabbed the broom by said door and flicked on the light switches. The overhead lamps lit my apartment dimly. Energy saver bulbs. They needed a good warm up before they got bright enough which made them almost useful.
Alice stood beneath their glow in her tightly cinched black raincoat and bare feet. Her eyes were a pair of opalescent blue beads surrounded by pale gold skin and long, dark hair. Despite my annoyance, I found myself glad to see her.
Glad to see Death. I had issues.
“I don’t make social calls, Sam.”
I went back around the couch to sweep up the glass, the shards tinkling as my broom collected them.
“So, it was just for the cheap thrill of seeing me jump out of my skin?”
“Don’t be so tiresome. I was sent to deliver a message.”
“Which is?”
“A mentor has been chosen for your case.”
I stopped. Adrenaline charged across my chest. “When did this happen?”
“Time is relative outside of this world. I could tell you the decision was made now and a thousand years from now. Both would be true.”
When she didn’t say more, my patience waned. “Is this mentor going to pop out of a cake or something? Who is it?”
Her expression soured. “Me.”
I let that sink in for a moment, the same way I tested a gulp of expired milk to see if the carton really ought to go.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“My mentor is Death.”
Her eyes flashed. “You doubt my competence?”
“No, no,” I said hastily. “It’s just, I was expecting someone…alive?”
The anger retreated. “I too was surprised. An unfamiliar sensation. I don’t think I care for it.”
“Have you been a mentor before?”
“No. When I asked him why, he replied only, ‘It will be good for you’.” She said the words like they made no sense. “As if I weren’t busy enough.”
“When you say he, you mean…”
“Michael.”
“Michael. As in the archangel?”
“Of course, Sam. Who else would I mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “His was the first and last favor I ever accepted. Every time he wants something, he mentions it. Your first lesson, Locksmith. Never give or accept favors. Even when they’re repaid, they’re not repaid.”
“This might be a good time to mention that Moreau came by about the one I owe him.”
A scowl turned her lip. “What did that creature require for the ill-conceived agreement you brokered?”
Sure, I’d love some salt in the wound, thank you.
“Nothing from him, as it turns out. He sold it in exchange for something else.”
“Which you didn’t stipulate against at the time. He always was a snake. Who did he sell it to?”
I poked at the glass with my broom. “A coven. Mors-something.”
I felt like a crazy person just saying it out loud.
“Mors Janua Vitae.” Alice said the name readily and without surprise. “They must be here for the sword.”
“The what?”
“They’ve been searching a long time for it. As it is with most things, greed is behind its return. I remember Duke Alençon.” She gave a laugh. “He seemed baffled when I came for him, as if his wealth held power beyond the Earth.”
Duke Alençon. Where had I heard that name?
The talk radio show.
“Wait, do you mean the sword of Joan of Arc? The one at the museum?”
“Yes.”
“I’m supposed to help a coven steal this th
ing from the museum?” I shook my head. “No way. I’m not going to steal some priceless piece of history for a bunch of broom-riding lunatics, favor or no favor. Besides, the thing must be under all kinds of security.”
Alice grunted. “More than just ordinary security or they wouldn’t need your help to take it. A powerful spell was cast upon it by one of their enemies. That must be the lock they wish you to open.”
“What do they need me for then? Aren’t spells part of witch repertoire?”
“As I recall, if any of her coven should attempt to reclaim the sword, it would kill them.”
Something about the way she put that stood out to me.
“Her coven? Whose?”
“That of Joan of Arc.”
“You don’t mean—“
“Yes, she was a witch.”
I sat down on the couch again. “She really was a witch? But the church canonized her.”
“And rightfully so. She was a saint as well.”
This was like being back in Calculus. I understood the words, just not what they meant together.
“How can she be both? I mean, witches don’t believe in God.”
Alice looked at me with restrained annoyance, the way she might a puppy chewing on shoes.
“I think Michael hopes I will learn patience as your mentor.”
Nice, a little condescension to help pass the night.
“Wasn’t she just a young girl when she died?” I asked. “How could she have founded a coven?”
“You think of time and accomplishment in far too linear terms.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning longevity and legacy are not as interconnected as you suppose.”
And here I thought just making it to the twilight years with all my teeth was something to shoot for.
“Well, I’m no thief. Moreau can sell my favor but I’m not going to steal for anyone.”
Alice regarded me thoughtfully. “Your refusal would negate any agreement Moreau made with this coven. He would not take that kindly, I promise you.”
“I won’t steal,” I said flatly. “I may not understand the reason I was given this ability, but I’m sure it wasn’t for felony larceny.”
“Things are not always what they seem, Locksmith. You will find that is the case often enough.” She drifted over to my bookshelf against the wall and inspected the embarrassingly sparse collection. “It is good that you have been contemplating your purpose.”
I snorted, heading toward the kitchen with a dustpan full of the broken glass. “Kind of hard not to given how we met.”
“What is the direction of your thoughts on the matter?” She leaned closer to one of the books, scrunching her nose. “Is this a romance novel?”
I almost missed the trashcan. “Probably a thriller or something.”
“The Duke’s Delight?”
“Uh, well—”
“You have the sequel too.” She cocked a brow at me. “The Duchess’s Dilemma.”
“I like the happy endings, okay?” I shoved the broom back in its corner, my face hot. “It’s not as if there are many of them in real life, especially for saints.”
She turned away from the books, considering me. “Is this why you have been reluctant to use your gift?”
That brought me up short. “Have you been watching me?”
“I was informed by others.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but of course she didn’t.
“The reason I haven’t used my gift is because I haven’t agreed to be whatever they’ll expect from me,” I said when it became clear she wouldn’t say more. “Any chance you know the details on this all-important purpose I’m destined to serve? If I’m supposed to smite the darkness, I should probably invest in something more than a lock picking set.”
Her stare hardened. “Do you ask in earnest? I haven’t an interest in indulging your mockery.”
I was being rude. Alice didn’t deserve my frustrated snark. “It’s just a lot to take in and more than a little crazy. Saints are supposed to be devout. Do you have any idea when I last went to church? It wasn’t last Sunday.” I leaned against the wall. “If this is for real, I need to know what I’m signing up for. That’s why I’ve been using my tools instead of my ability. Tools are angst-free.”
She tilted her head. “You believe a mistake has been made.”
“Yes.”
“That you have been given something meant for someone else.”
“That seems more likely than me being chosen to spread good or fight evil.”
“Because of your lost faith?”
“To say lost assumes I had any to begin with," I said ruefully. “Answer me this; what kind of god requires that we worship him in order to be saved? I mean, that’s some high-level megalomania right there.”
“Is this what worries you? That being a servant of God is the same as subjugation?”
“When the alternative is hellfire? If the shoe fits, Alice.”
Her quiet laugh was wry. “An interesting analysis. Have you not noticed that mankind unquestioningly worships many things that do, in fact, subjugate them, and with no promise of salvation behind it?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but realized she was right. Money, power, possession, the list of transitory things to which people dedicated themselves was endless.
“It still shouldn’t be a pre-requisite for heaven,” I argued. “We’re all doubt and imperfection down here. God should know that since he created this dumpster fire.”
To my surprise, her eyes brightened with amusement. “Yours is an intriguing dissent, Sam. I think I will be quite entertained.” Her expression grew more serious. “In answer to your original question, no, I do not know what task you are meant to fulfill, nor when that time may come. A mentor’s duty is to counsel and advise, not direct.”
Something told me even if she did know, she probably couldn’t reveal it anyway. “I understand.”
“There is, however, something I can tell you.”
“What’s that?”
Her gaze captured mine. “There’s been no mistake. You, as you are, were given this gift. You know this too, though you strain to ignore it. If you had not answered the call, I wouldn’t be here now.”
Remembering made my palms sweaty. She was right. I would never forget the light that filled me as I stood in that graveyard, nor the golden voices that spoke my name and called me forth. I remembered my answer, my soul crying out in jubilee. It had all seemed so clear at that instant. Strange how daily life muddied the waters until nothing felt clear anymore.
“Right.” I straightened, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Then I guess we’ll have to figure this out as we go.”
A smile skirted her lips. “Indeed so.” Her gaze jerked to one side, as if she heard a bell tolling in the distance. She stiffened. “I am called elsewhere.”
I lifted a hand. “Wait, what about the coven? Any suggestions for what to do?”
“Not really,” she said, turning away.
My jaw went a little slack. “You’re just going to leave me twisting like this?”
“I’ll keep an eye on your progress.”
“But—Shouldn’t you give me some of that counsel and advice you advertised?”
She paused and glanced back. “Try not to annoy them with your usual wit. It’ll do more harm than good.” With that, she vanished.
I glared at the spot where she’d stood. “Helpful.”
The movie on the TV blinked off, replaced with the red banner of a special report. A news helicopter broadcast the highway scene of a massive pile up along Highway 69 outside of Des Moines. Mangled cars and the flashing lights of emergency responder vehicles filled the screen.
Some would call that a bad omen.
Good thing I didn’t believe in those either.
Chapter 13
The funny thing about three a.m. was that it looked a lot like any other time of night, except you’re annoyed to still be awake.
Four
th and Main was only a few blocks from downtown at the edge of the residential area before the streets turned to shops. Now that I knew the museum was the destination, the meet spot made more sense, though I still didn’t know what I was going to do. Alice hinted at there being more to this than just petty theft, without actually telling me what. Maybe that was in the mentor manual: Make vague reference to a deeper meaning but keep it ambiguous enough to allow the mentee to knock his head into walls.
It needed editing.
I rubbed at my arms for warmth, regretting the decision to leave my jacket at home. I had on long sleeves but the early October evening had a bite to it.
Not even a breath of air stirred the tops of the trees along the boulevard, as if the wind itself still slept. The occasional distant bark from an outdoor dog menaced the silence. Houses stood shrouded by darkness; the shades drawn over front windows like closed eyes while street lamps cast sallow circles of light onto the blacktop. I stood under one of them, waiting and wishing I was anywhere else. I checked my watch. As the minute hand clicked over to three a.m. exactly, there came the thrum of an approaching vehicle.
I stared the direction it came from, but saw nothing. The whir of the engine grew louder. Tires thumped as they rode over bumps in the pavement. Something was definitely there. Something I couldn’t see.
I moved hastily back from the curb as breaks squeaked to a halt in front of me. The clunk of a handle and a door slid open in mid-air, like someone removed a piece of the world.
“You’re the saint?”
A woman’s voice. Not antagonizing but not friendly either. Only darkness lay within the section of empty space.
I swallowed. “I guess that’s me.”
“Get in.”
I didn’t move. “I know what you want, and I know Moreau promised you this favor, but I won’t help you steal anything. It’ll cause me trouble but…there it is. I won’t be a thief.”
A lengthy silence followed in which sweat gathered at my temples.
“Get in.”
I’d expected some cursing, maybe even a hex that turned my future children into frogs, but not a bland response. That left me with pretty limited options. I took a deep breath and got in.