“I know he’s gone,” Aaron grunted. He turned the knob and pushed the door open with his foot.
“Then why are you still talking to him?”
“I don’t know, Gabe,” Aaron grumbled as he maneuvered into the small lobby. “These days I do a lot of crazy things.”
The place was old, not like the state-of-the art clinic where he had worked in Lynn. The room was done in dark wood paneling, with framed pictures of hunting dogs hung sporadically on the walls. A few plastic seats placed against the wall and an old coffee table covered with magazines and children’s books served as the waiting area. The reception desk was straight ahead.
The lobby was deserted, but Aaron could hear the sounds of paper shuffling and a sigh of exasperation coming from behind the desk. He approached and saw a girl surrounded by stacks of paper and medical folders. Her hair was an unusually dark shade of red, and she wore it pulled back in a tight ponytail. Obviously she hadn’t heard his entrance, so he cleared his throat and watched as she jumped, startled by his sudden appearance.
“You scared me,” she said with a nervous laugh. She moved a stray red hair from her forehead.
“Sorry,” Aaron said with a grunt, trying to shift Gabriel’s weight in his arms. “Do you think we could see the vet?” he asked.
“Sure,” she answered, moving one stack of folders to an even larger one that teetered dangerously. “Just give me a second here and we’ll see what we can do.”
“I’m … I’m not feeling so good, Aaron,” Gabriel whined in his arms.
The dog shivered and Aaron guessed that a fever was brewing. He felt his temper spike. He’d already wasted enough time with the Mainiac in the Red Sox cap; he wasn’t about to let his dog suffer anymore. “Look,” he said rather forcefully, “I’ll fill out all the forms you have, but could you please get the doctor out here? I think he’s got a pretty nasty infection, and I want to get some antibiotics into him as soon as possible…”
“All right, all right,” the redhead said as she stood and moved around the counter. “Let’s take him in back and I’ll give him a look.” She motioned for them to follow.
“You’re not Dr. Wessell,” Aaron said, taken aback.
“No,” she responded. “But I almost was. I’m just plain Katie McGovern right now.” She laughed. “But not to worry, I’m also a licensed veterinarian.”
Aaron laughed self-consciously as he carried Gabriel toward the examination room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off like a jerk, it’s just that it’s been a really long day and I thought you were—”
“The receptionist?” she asked. She opened the door to the exam room and stepped back for him to enter.
“Yeah,” he answered. “You don’t look old enough to—”
“I’m twenty-seven,” she said, closing the door. “The product of fine Irish genes. I can show you my diploma from the University of Illinois College of Veterinary Medicine,” she added as she helped him lay Gabriel on the metal table. “How you doing, buddy?” she asked the dog, stroking his head and rubbing his ears.
“My name’s not Buddy,” Gabriel growled. “It’s Gabriel.”
“His name is Gabriel,” Aaron told her.
“Hello there, Gabriel,” Katie said as she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. “Let’s take a look and see what we can do about fixing you up.” She examined the wound in his leg, gently prodding the seeping injury. “What did you say bit him?” she asked.
“I think it was a raccoon,” Aaron answered lamely.
“A raccoon?” she questioned, looking up from the oozing bite. “If that’s a raccoon bite, I’m a teenage receptionist.”
Camael could feel it on the breeze—one of many strange things he could sense ever since he finally arrived in the town of Blithe.
He walked slowly down Portland Street, taking a right as he left the stretch of dirt road. Something in the atmosphere told him that he belonged here, that he was welcome—but there was also something else, something he couldn’t identify. It was an odd sensation hidden beneath layers of other, far more pleasant impulses.
The angel widened his perceptions as he turned onto Acadia Street. It was as quiet as death here, void of life, the only sounds the gentle hiss of the warm presummer breeze and the pounding of the surf far off in the distance. Offices lined both sides of the short street: Johnson’s Realtors, McNulty Certified Public Accountants, Dr. Charles Speegal, Optometrist, and the largest building belonging to the Carroll Funeral Home, taking up almost one whole side of the street.
Everything about this town said that he was supposed to be here. It disarmed him, made him think about and feel things he had not experienced in thousands of years. There was an unwarranted contentment here, and the angel wondered if he and Aaron had indeed stumbled across the haven that was Aerie. He crossed the street to stand before the white, two-story building that was the Carroll Funeral Home, and looked around carefully. But then, where are the others?
Again came that wave of sensation he could not immediately identify, like a great beast of the sea breaking the surface for air before diving again beneath the dark, murky depths. But this time there was something in it that he finally recognized: the scent of an ethereal presence trying very hard to hide beneath sensations of serenity. Now that he had the scent, he had to be careful not to lose it. It was old, very, very old—a whiff of chaos that had not been breathed since the days of creation.
Camael heard the sound of a door opening and turned back to face the funeral home, willing himself invisible. An old man, dressed in a dark suit and tie, was standing on the top step, looking down at him. Camael was perplexed; it was as if he were able to see the angel—but of course, that was impossible.
The feelings of tranquility tripled, bombarding Camael with sensations meant to keep him complacent, but he held on to the ancient scent. No matter how hard it tried to hide beneath the oceans of serenity radiating from the town, he knew that at the core of Blithe there was chaos.
The man continued to stare at him with eyes black and deep, and Camael knew that the man in the suit could see him. “How is this possible?” Camael asked.
The old man’s head cocked to one side strangely, and he smiled. Then he blinked slowly, and Camael noticed a milky, membranous covering over his eyes. Not something that he had ever perceived on the human anatomy before. Sensing that he might be in danger, Camael was about to summon a weapon of fire when the old man leaned forward, his bones creaking painfully, and coughed. Tiny projectiles, about the size of a cherry, and barbed, were expelled from his mouth to stick in Camael’s face and neck.
The angel scowled angrily, reaching up to pluck the offensive matter from his flesh when he felt his body growing numb. “Poison,” he grumbled, tearing one of the barbed projectiles from his face and staring at it. It was brown and pulsed with an organic life of its own. It was the second time that day that some primitive form of life had attempted to vanquish him using toxins.
Camael closed his eyes and willed the poison from his body. Shockingly, it did little good, and he found that he did not have the strength to open his eyes again. The world seemed to tilt beneath his feet, and he fell to the ground.
Through the darkness behind his eyes, he heard the sound of the old man’s feet as he shuffled down the stairs toward him. Pulled deeper and deeper into the clutches of unconsciousness, Camael was consoled by the town of Blithe.
“You were meant to be here,” it said, easing the angel on his way into oblivion. “For without you, I would die.”
Aaron petted Gabriel as he watched Dr. McGovern shave away the fur on the dog’s leg, then squirt some saline solution into the wound. She dabbed at it with a cotton swab and leaned in to examine it more closely.
“Mouths are filthy, so I just assume that all bites are infected,” she said, squirting more saline into the wound. “This one is particularly nasty, though—especially for a raccoon bite.” She looked up to catch Aaron’s eye.
“I said
I thought it was a raccoon,” he responded, flustered. No way was he going to explain that Gabriel had been bitten by a nasty little creature created by fallen angels. “I didn’t get that good of a look at it—I guess it could have been just about anything.”
“It was an Orisha, Aaron,” Gabriel grumbled.
“I know, I know,” Aaron said reassuringly.
“He’s pretty vocal, isn’t he?” The vet threw the soiled cotton swabs into a barrel, then rubbed Gabriel’s head affectionately.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Aaron replied with a sly smile and a chuckle. “Say, is he going to need a rabies booster?”
“A shot?” Gabriel grunted, lifting his head from the table.
“When did he get his last vaccination?” Dr. McGovern asked.
“I just got a shot,” the Lab whined.
“About six months ago,” Aaron said, ignoring his best friend.
“Yeah, why don’t we do a booster, then. Better to be safe than sorry,” she said, pulling a syringe from a drawer and getting a vial of vaccine from a tiny fridge beneath the counter.
“Better no shot than sorry,” Gabriel growled.
“He doesn’t sound too happy,” the vet said, filling the needle.
“He’s not, but he doesn’t have a choice. He has to get a shot or else he’ll get sick.” Aaron emphasized the last of the sentence specifically to the dog.
“Do you think he understands you?”
“I know he does,” Aaron answered, rubbing the thick fur around Gabriel’s neck. “This guy is pretty special.”
“Aren’t they all,” she said, and with one quick move, administered the injection with not so much as a yelp from the dog. “See,” she cooed, leaning into Gabriel’s face and rubbing his ears. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“She smells good, Aaron,” the dog woofed, his large, muscular tail thumping happily on the metal table.
Aaron laughed. “Don’t worry, Gabriel doesn’t hold many grudges. Give ‘im some affection and a cookie and he’ll forget all about the trauma.”
The doctor disposed of the syringe in a red plastic container on the counter. “All right,” she said, looking over her notes. “Let’s see, keep the wound uncovered so it can dry out and…”
“Warm compresses three times a day and two weeks of amoxicillin twice daily to kill the infection,” Aaron continued as he watched Gabriel sit up carefully on the table.
Dr. McGovern smiled, setting her pen down. “Pretty good.” She nodded. “Do we have an interest in the veterinary sciences?”
“I used to work in a vet’s office,” Aaron explained, the recollection of the life he had left behind washing over him in a wave of melancholy. He quickly turned back to Gabriel. “Do you want to get down?”
“Let me help you,” the vet said, and together they lowered Gabriel to the floor.
“You know,” she said, “I’m only here temporarily—but I could use a hand around the office. I can’t pay great money, but I could pay you something, and I could look after Gabriel’s bite—what do you say?”
It certainly was a tempting offer. There was something about this little town that had really gotten into Aaron’s system. It seemed to be saying that this was the place where he wanted to be. The fact that he could earn some money to bolster his dwindling savings account wasn’t a bad idea either. “Shouldn’t you check with Dr. Wessell first?” he asked.
Dr. McGovern nodded slowly. “I imagine so, but since my former fiancé is nowhere to be found, I’d say that gives me leeway to bend the rules a bit. You interested?”
“Let’s stay, Aaron,” Gabriel whined. “I’m tired of the car.”
“I’d have to check with my traveling companion,” Aaron said with a shrug. “But sure, if it’s okay with him, I’d love to hang around for a couple days.”
“Great,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Katie, and I know this is Gabriel, but it might be nice to know your name, too, especially if we’ll be working together.”
“Sorry.” He took her hand in his and gave it a shake. “Aaron,” he said. “Aaron Corbet.”
“Great to meet you, Aaron.” She released his hand. “Why don’t you go check with your friend and let me know what you’ll be doing.”
Aaron and Gabriel stepped from the building into the warm, spring afternoon and headed for the car. Gabriel was able to walk on his own with a minimum of discomfort, thanks to Katie’s ministrations.
“Where’s Camael?” Gabriel asked as Aaron opened the door and helped him into the backseat. He immediately lay down to check out the wound on his leg, sniffing and licking at the antiseptic goo that covered it.
“I don’t know,” Aaron answered. “And leave your leg alone,” he added, looking around for signs of the angel.
Since the battle at his home, he and the former Powers’ commander had formed a strange kind of bond. Aaron was always aware of the angel’s presence, and although he could feel something unusual about Blithe, right now he felt no sense at all of Camael. That alone was troubling. Looks like we will be staying a while, he thought.
At that moment, Katie came outside to get supplies from the back of her truck.
“Stay here a minute,” Aaron told Gabriel, jogging over to the vet, who was trying to balance three large boxes in her arms and close the back of her SUV.
“Katie, looks like I’ll be taking you up on your offer,” he said as she peeked out from behind the teetering boxes.
“Great,” she replied. “And your first assignment?”
Aaron snapped to attention. “Sure, what’s that?”
“Give your boss a hand with these boxes,” she said. “Damn things are heavy.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“ Where do you think he went?” Gabriel asked from the backseat as Aaron continued his patrol of Blithe.
“I have no idea,” he said, scanning the streets for signs of the wayward Camael. “Maybe he found another Nephilim he likes better and skipped town.”
“Do you think he would do that?” Gabriel asked, aghast.
“I’m just kidding.” Aaron chuckled as he eyed a coffee shop.
An elderly couple came out of the shop, and Aaron tried to see inside as the door slowly closed—but no luck. Besides, why would he be in a coffee shop—he doesn’t even have to eat, Aaron thought as he brought his car to a stop at a crosswalk, allowing an older woman with a shopping cart to cross. But then again, they might have had French fries.
In the rearview mirror he watched the Labrador tilt his head back and sniff the air. “Do you want me to get out and see if I can find him?” Gabriel asked. “I might he able to pick up his scent. He does smell kind of funny, you know.”
“No, that’s all right, Gabe,” Aaron replied. “He’ll turn up. Why don’t we just find someplace to stay that’ll take pets.”
“I’m much more than a pet,” the dog said with pride.
“So you’ve told me,” Aaron responded, taking a left onto Berkely Street. “Katie said there’s a place that rents rooms down here.”
At the end of the dead-end street stood a large, white house surrounded by a jungle of colorful wildflowers. A wooden rooms for rent sign moved in the breeze.
“There it is,” he said, pulling to the curb in front of the house and turning off the engine. “You stay here. I’ll go find out how much they charge and if they allow pets.”
“You tell them I am not just a pet,” Gabriel called through the open window as Aaron headed up the walk beneath a wooden arch bedecked with snaking purple flowers.
“Can I help you?” asked an aged voice from somewhere amongst the lush vegetation.
“Yeah,” he responded, startled, not sure where to direct his answer. “I’m looking for a room.”
An old woman emerged from behind a thick forsythia bush, sharp-looking pruning sheers in her hand. She glared at him through thick, dark-framed sunglasses that made her look like one of the X-Men, and wiped some sweat from her brow with a glove-cover
ed hand. “I have a few—ain’t that a coincidence.”
Aaron laughed nervously. “Cool,” he said with what he hoped was a charming smile.
“You alone, or with somebody?” She craned her neck to get a look at the car parked on the street. “Thought I heard you talkin’ to somebody.”
“I was talking to my dog,” he said, studying her face for a response.
The woman scowled. “You got a dog?”
Aaron nodded slowly.
“You want me to rent you a room—with a dog?” she asked incredulously.
He sighed. “Sorry to have wasted your time,” he said with a polite wave as he hastily turned and headed back toward the car.
He was just beneath the flowered archway when he heard the woman’s voice very close behind him. “What kind of dog is it?”
“He’s a yellow labrador,” Aaron answered, not quite sure what difference it made.
“Yellow?” she repeated, eyeing his vehicle.
Aaron nodded. “Yellow Lab, yes.”
She followed him as he continued to the car. “My father used to raise Labs,” she said as she pulled off her work gloves and stuck them in the back pockets of her worn blue jeans. “Sometimes I have a soft spot for them.”
Aaron opened the back door of the car, exposing Gabriel. “Hey Gabe,” he said, “somebody wants to meet you.”
The old woman kept her distance, but crouched to peer into the car. Gabriel panted happily and wagged his tail against the back of the seat. It sounded like a drumbeat.
“What did you call him?” she asked, removing her funky shades, giving him a lesser version of the scowl from the yard.
“Gabriel.”
“That’s a good name.” She stared into the car. “What happened to his leg?” she asked, pointing at the nasty wound.
“Oh, he got bit by a—a possum, I think,” Aaron said. “That’s one of reasons why we’re looking for a place to stay. The leg needs to heal a bit before we move on.”
“That ain’t no possum bite,” the old woman said with a shake of her head. She leaned into the car and let Gabriel sniff her bony, callused hands. “What bit you, boy?” she asked, petting his head.
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