Triune
Page 32
“Hey, don’t let him on your roof any more,” he teased, nudging Brian’s shoulder clumsily.
“I’ll work on that,” said Brian with a crooked grin. “It was really great meeting you, David. Can we do this again?”
“Yeah, this was a kick in the head. Whenever you guys want, all right?”
Barrett grinned and stood up, the three of them getting ready to go, but leaving the rest of the cupcakes and beans for David.
“Sounds like a plan.”
They were forced by convention to take the car back to the house, this ride even more tedious than the previous one. It was becoming downright claustrophobic, the sensation of cramped wings inside yearning to get out, but trapped until they got home, only barely tolerable. Mike fidgeted and bit his nails, his leg jiggling, while Brian looked like he was in a straight jacket and trying to control his breathing so that he didn’t completely panic against his constraints.
“Look, you guys,” Barrett finally said, breaking the uncomfortable, tense silence, “why don’t you go on ahead. I’ll be there in about fifteen, okay?”
“But you...” Mike started, but his older brother shook his head.
“I’m all right. Maybe getting you guys out of here will make the car feel bigger.”
“Good point,” said Brian. Without having to be told twice, he went intangible and flung himself straight up through the roof of the car, wings unfurling as he rose. Barrett gasped and gripped the wheel, turning slightly pale.
“Pull over before you get in a wreck,” said Mike, Barrett nodding and doing so as quickly as he could. They exchanged looks, unspoken thoughts and emotions passing between them as Mike checked on his brother’s state, and Barrett reassured him that he was all right. Or would be in a minute once his brothers were done with what they had to do. Barrett set his forehead on the steering wheel, bracing himself.
“Do it.”
Mike nodded a little, squeezed his brother's shoulder gently, then did the same thing Brian had, gracefully and invisibly zipping up through the top of the car and letting his own glossy black wings out. Barrett shuddered, his own barely contained below the surface, and he breathed deeply and evenly to try and regain enough humanity to get the car back to the house, preferably in one piece. It did feel more spacious with them gone, which helped, but it was only sheer force of will that kept Barrett from leaving the damn car by the side of the road and joining them.
After a few minutes, the intensity of the feeling passed, and he carefully pulled out into traffic again. He could feel where they were ahead of him, and he smiled softly to himself. It was comforting, always knowing where they were, and that they knew where he was too. The ephemeral link they shared was almost tangible, a living thing between them, strong and luminous.
The Lexus pulled into the driveway with two less passengers than when it had left, and Barrett grabbed the keys out of it, rushing into the house. They greeted him with hugs and smiles, and the second the door was closed, his own pearl gray wings joined their brothers, everything complete once again. They ruffled, slightly annoyed at having been cooped up so long, and for a long time the Masons simply held each other, reconnecting, feathers lightly stroking and touching and ruffling with a sound that gave them a warm, cozy tingle inside.
They could hear Mary quietly cleaning up in the kitchen, the sink periodically turning off and on, a catchy tune from the 1940s being hummed softly. A clock ticked somewhere, the only reminder that time hadn’t stood still, despite the feeling that they were somehow slightly apart from the mundanities of cars and traffic and jobs and money and bills. And disasters.
Los Angeles, Barrett said quietly, and his brothers nodded. It was time to go back for a bit.
They changed into what had become work clothes for them – not suits and ties or military uniforms, but tees and jeans and work boots that could get dirty and see tragedy and blood and the broken pieces of lives.
“I don’t know how they stay so clean,” mused Brian.
“What?” Mike grabbed some sports drinks from the fridge and stuffed them in the backpack, as much to give out to survivors as for themselves.
“The other angels. Like Helene and her white dress. And you see all those pictures of these flowing white robes...”
Barrett snorted a little. “One, I didn’t see her doing much. Two, maybe others are like her. More... what’s the word I’m looking for...?”
“Ethereal?” suggested Mike.
“Something like that. Ghost-like. And three, I get the sense that a lot of those pictures are pretty outdated. Yeah, the big guys on the other side looked a lot like the paintings and all that, but what about us? We’re supposedly some kind of big deal, and... hell, Mike’s wearing a damn comic book shirt,” he said with a chuckle, making his middle brother grin brightly.
“I love this shirt. And there’s no way I’m wearing some kind of gay dress robe thing. Uh... no offense, Bri.”
“None taken,” Brian said with a smirk.
“Right,” finished Barrett. “It is what it is. We were raised like this, and this is what we’re going to do.” He couldn’t bring himself to say “raised human,” the concept still far too disquieting to really talk about. His brothers felt it anyway, but chose not to go there.
“Right,” said Brian, nodding. “Sodas and comic books and cupcakes and tea. Put a bullet in my brain if I ever don’t want any of those things.”
Mike just looked at him with an amused smirk, mentally checked if they were all ready, and teleported them to Los Angeles.
Not much had changed from the day before. The air reeked of smoke and dust and smog and death, Barrett coughing on it. With heavy sighs, they got back into the fray, searching out with their minds for anyone in the area still alive but trapped, or for the badly injured that needed healing. They were more careful to pace themselves this time, and coming from home after a relatively restful day, as opposed to having their brains scrambled in heaven, was also helping. Over two hours had passed before any of them needed a break, and even then it was just to sit on the curb and share a sip of sports drink together. Just a breather, then back in for another three hours. Barrett was able to do a lot more since he wasn’t expending so much energy to keep conjuring manna for them all, and they found themselves working all night until the sky finally began to lighten a little in the east.
“Emergency services will be able to see better soon,” said Mike, moving to wipe a bit of sweat off his brow but only succeeding in creating a muddy smear. “You guys want to head back now?”
“Sounds good,” said Barrett with a nod. Brian looked around, taking one last look, making sure nobody in the immediate area had been forgotten. A soft morning breeze had begun to pick up off the ocean, and as one they pushed off and flew skyward, savoring the feeling of the cool air in their faces and through their feathers. The stars were just starting to wink out, little pin pricks in the deep blue dome of the sky. They took their time, riding the air currents lazily like great birds of prey, spiraling higher, then diving for the next one as they made their way back north.
I want to go to Reno and check out the studio, said Brian after they'd been aloft for a while. Their clothes were dirty, but they were able to shake out most of the dust as they flew, and decided to clean up at Brian's place instead of the house. They'd use the opportunity to practice moving things around long-distance by sending their dirty clothes home and bringing in fresh while each was in the studio bathroom showering.
They grinned at each other, flying on toward Reno, surprisingly untired considering how long they’d been lifting pieces of buildings, pulling cars open, and healing people. There was fatigue, certainly, but the exertion of flying wasn’t adding to it. If anything, the longer they were in the air, the better they felt.
The sun was just coming up by the time they landed on the roof of Brian’s studio, carefully avoiding the new skylight that gleamed there.
“Don’t want a repeat performance,” chuckled Mike.
“Brian, this is really great,” said Barrett softly. Even if he didn’t fully understand how it affected his brother’s ability to do his job, he could at least empathize and had some idea that the increased light would help.
It struck him then how closed off he’d been before, and to his brothers in particular, gratitude at what he’d now been given filling his heart. He had fought it, he'd denied it, but in the end becoming an angel had been the best thing to ever happen to him since his brothers were born.
“I’m going to take fewer jobs, I think,” said Brian as he gazed at the plain, blank wall of windows looking out onto the vacant lot and street beyond. “I still have to make the rent here, but...”
“Pooled resources,” said Mike, nodding. “Mason Imports has us covered at the new place. Do what you need to do.”
Brian turned and looked at him curiously. Mike nodded. He’d picked up on his brother’s thoughts and feelings, and understood what needed to come next.
“I’ll start with the one over the front door, maybe,” Brian said, getting a tape measure. “I miss that rising sun. I’ll leave that one the same, and put a full moon over the back door to match. And then there's the big one with us three in it...”
Mike chuckled softly as he watched his brother get lost in his art, catching glimpses of the images that drifted through the youngest Mason’s mind. His phone went off then, making him jump a little, and he creased his brow at the unfamiliar number. It had a Reno area code. Curious, he pressed the green button.
“...Hello?”
“Is this... is this Michael Mason...?” The woman’s voice on the other end sounded tentative yet urgent. He could feel the stress radiating off her through the phone.
“Yes, this is Mike.” He looked between his brothers, who were now watching him with curiosity and a little concern. Who was it, and how had she gotten his number?
“Oh, thank god. This is Roberta. Do you remember me? From the plane? You know... the plane?”
“Roberta? Yeah, of course I remember you. What’s up?”
“Michael... I... I need your help.”
WHAT? IT'S OVER?
Kind of!
Triune may be done, but the saga of the Mason boys isn't over by a long shot. Look for additional titles, stories, websites, hidden goodies, and more at a local Internet near you.
www.MasonImports.com
www.WillowPolson.com
Triune is on Facebook and so is the author:
www.facebook.com/triunebook
www.facebook.com/willowpolson
And check it out, the Masons have their own Twitter: http://twitter.com/3MasonBros
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Willow Polson has been a professional writer and editor for over 20 years, and has five prior non-fiction metaphysical books out through Kensington Publishing of New York. Triune marks her entry into the world of fantasy fiction, her first love, and she credits Ray Bradbury for giving her permission to follow her bliss.