Something Deadly This Way Comes ma-3

by Kim Harrison

  I exhaled, smiling wryly up at it. “This is the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

  The seraph arced its wings to touch over its head, an angel’s version of a shrug I’d seen Barnabas do. It extended a hand for me, and feeling renewed, I slipped my hand among the angel’s fingers as we turned to the sun.

  A clear light filled me at the touch, thrilling me down to my toes. The desert vanished with a crack of real lightning. I gasped, and then felt myself go misty. The first patters of large, heavy drops of rain hit my face. I was both there to feel it, and gone, half of me feeling the warm plops of rain, and half the emptiness of nothing. And then the warm wetness vanished and I was nowhere.

  I panicked, disembodied and unreal. I clutched at my amulet as if it could save me, but I wasn’t sure I even had hands anymore.

  A girl once dared walk the line, came Grace’s thought into mine, and I grasped it. Seeking union of soul and divine. Light and dark work together, for now, perhaps forever, but it’s going to take eons of time.

  Eons of time, I mused, calming as I realized I was safe. I just wasn’t sure where I was anymore. I felt my body seem to lift, finishing the move that the angel had started in the Arizona desert. I took a breath not knowing if it was real. It made my heart beat and my blood move.

  A blinding light pulsed over me, and I cowered, my hand that had been in the seraph’s grip falling to my side. Blinking, I brought my head up to see that I was standing in my room, not Ron’s patio. My reflection stared back at me from my mirror, and Grace darted over everything as if she hadn’t seen it in years. Numb, I stared at myself in that ridiculous black outfit. I looked tired, small, and really dirty.

  Heart pounding, I turned, not believing it. I was home. Alive.

  I looked down, the hand clenching my amulet falling open.

  And I still had my amulet.

  “Now what?” I wondered aloud, peering into its depths to see sparkles and rainbows.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The mall was pleasantly busy, the weekend traffic moving quickly past the displayed photographs, most people not seeing them apart from being something to avoid on the way to a new pair of jeans or an iced mocha. But that was how we lived our lives, most times—unless something smacked us hard enough to realize that life is fleeting—too busy with the details of existence to recognize the things that turn existing into living. No, I wasn’t depressed, just introspective, and as I stood before Nakita’s photograph of a silent hospital at night, I hoped no one noticed the out-of-state plates. She’d taken it at a slant, then went on to blur it to make the lights glow and overtake everything, almost like what I saw in a far-distant flash forward. But still . . . if you looked close . . .

  “Did she blur it intentionally?” my dad asked from behind me, and I jumped, almost spilling the milk shake I was slamming down. Josh had gotten it for me before excusing himself to lurk in the nearby food court. He liked my photography, but after five minutes of it, he’d had his fill. Barnabas and Nakita were AWOL, but I figured they were around, avoiding my mother like most people. Yes, my mother. She had shown up unannounced this morning claiming to be here for the mall show, but I think she had been on her way to a California youth detention center and got diverted. Thank you, God, Barnabas, seraphs, and maybe, Grace.

  “Gosh, I’ve no clue what’s in Nakita’s mind when she takes pictures,” I said. “She just points and clicks. At everything.”

  “Yes, well, you used to be the same way,” my dad good-naturedly chided me as I rolled my eyes. His hand on my shoulder made me feel like I belonged, and I took it, tugging him away before he noticed the out-of-state plates. Neck craning, he tried to get a longer look.

  “Whatever she’s doing, she needs to keep doing it,” he said, squinting behind him. “All her work has a unique . . . feral quality. It’s as if I’m seeing sorrow, concern, or joy for the very first time through her.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” he said, then he did a double take. “That’s not our local hospital, is it?”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Flustered, I stopped at Nakita’s last entry, then had a mild panic attack. I hadn’t seen this one—didn’t even remember her taking it. It had won top honors according to the little sticker on the auction slip, but that’s not what had me tense. The photograph was of me from the back as I walked down a dark sidewalk, head down and arms over my middle. It was Shoe’s house at night, and there were orbs trailing behind me like bubbles. At least fifty. Crap, had there been guardian angels following me and I never even knew it?

  “Um, you want to see mine?” I said, tugging on my dad’s arm to get him to where my mother stood alone before my three entries, her trendy purse over an arm and her heels planted firmly on the scratched mall floor as if mine were the only photographs out here, but he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on Nakita’s black-and-white photograph of me with the angels.

  “How did she do that?” he asked, finger hovering over the orbs. “And why? Two photos superimposed, you think?”

  “Probably,” I said, becoming more nervous. Had they been following me to evaluate me as a timekeeper? Barnabas seemed to think that for all their small size, guardian angels were more powerful than even the seraphs. Could be. Someone told me once that cherubs sat next to God’s throne, but the more I heard from the “experts” the more I realized we didn’t have a clue.

  Slowly my dad’s shoulders slumped and his eyes became sorrowful as he peered at the picture. I hesitated, and then, knowing that he wouldn’t move until he satisfied his curiosity, I dropped back to stand with him and tried to see what he was looking at—not what was behind the glass, but what was in the mind of the person taking the picture.

  The black-and-white threw everything into a misty sharpness, and it looked like the weight of the world was on me. I remembered that night. Nakita had perfectly captured my worry, the need to fix what I’d broken. And as I looked at it, that same tiredness seemed to soak into me again. Nakita was good. Really good.

  “Has it been that hard?” my dad whispered, turning to me with a soft pain still in his gaze. “I thought you were happy here. If you want to go back with your mother . . .”

  “No!” I quickly assured him, giving him a sideways hug and almost spilling my shake again. “I’m happy. I like it here. I like living with you. I feel . . . centered,” I said, using one of his favorite words. “It was just a rough night. You know . . . boyfriends. But we’re okay now.” I glanced at Josh at the food court, then blinked. Barnabas had joined him. “I didn’t even know she took it,” I finished.

  My dad was looking at my mother, who was standing before my photographs like they were the Mona Lisa. “If you’re sure.”

  “One hundred percent,” I said fervently, then added, “Just don’t tell Mom, okay? She makes me wear funny clothes.”

  He laughed at that, looking at my short skirt, tights, and the top that was so uncoordinated with the rest that it worked. Much of the tension he’d adopted since finding out my mom was in town seemed to evaporate. He’d been looking at me all morning as if he was trying to figure out what was different. I think his subconscious knew I was alive again, and he was trying to find a more reasonable explanation as to what the change was. Smiling, he put an arm over my shoulder and we slowly moved toward my mom. I’d won an honorable mention, and it was at this one that my mother was standing, her pride radiating from her more than her three-hundred-dollar perfume.

  “This is wonderful, Madison,” she said, shunning the pen tied to the auction slip to use her own turquoise-inlaid pen to make an outrageous offer. “Still taking shots of daydreams?” she added, referring to my childhood preoccupation of photographing clouds. This one was nothing special, just a photograph to fulfill a class requirement. It didn’t deserve even an honorable mention as far as I was concerned. The one I’d taken of the black wings circling an abandoned house hadn’t even placed.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her equal hug-time so t
hey wouldn’t start arguing. I pressed into her, my eyes closing at the scent of raw silk. Her grip on me seemed a shade too tight, a moment too long, and she seemed concerned when I broke from her and she searched my gaze. She looked the same in her fashionable shoes, her creased slacks, and her silk blouse. Her hair was in the latest conservative cut, and her makeup was perfect. She had huffed as usual at my choice of clothes and Dad’s casual slacks and shirt, but I could tell she was worried about me. The wrinkles around her eyes had broken free of her expensive cream to give her away.

  “I can’t believe you came up all the way from Florida for a mall show, Mom,” I said, trying to get her to stop looking at Barnabas and Josh.

  Her attention came back to me, and a quick, unsure smile flashed across her. “And miss this? Not going to happen. I didn’t have anything this week but a cancer fund-raiser, and the people running it know better than me what needs to be done.” She put her pen away, carefully ignoring my dad as she moved to the picture with the black wings.

  “Did I tell you they had me changing planes in Arizona?” my mother added, shaking her head at the “crows.” “The connecting flight was canceled. I almost got on a flight to San Diego, not Illinois. Hell of a way to run an airline.”

  I fidgeted, not knowing what to say. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I finally said. “It really means a lot to me.” I slurped the last of my shake, seeing my dad hide a smile as my mom frowned at the rude noise. It was the first time in months that I’d eaten anything in front of him without duress. I was still hungry, too, and I glanced at the nearby food court where Barnabas waited with Josh and a half-eaten plate of fries. Nakita had shown up, standing with her hip cocked and her eyes narrowed. She and Barnabas were arguing. Big surprise.

  My mother, ever sensitive to the boys around her one and only daughter, raised her eyebrows at the incongruous trio. Barnabas was eye candy to the max, but it was Josh who was watching me with hopeful eyes, even as he stuffed fries in his mouth. My stomach rumbled. It seemed like it was making up for lost time. At least my bruises didn’t show.

  “Hey, um, you guys mind if I go talk to my friends for a minute?” I asked, wanting some of those fries before Josh ate them all.

  “Yes, go,” my mother said, frowning suspiciously at Barnabas. “They’re invited to come with us for lunch,” she added, her gaze rising to linger on my amulet.

  “I’ll ask.” I was backing up, and I flushed when my dad shook his wrist, then adjusted his watch.

  “Reservations at twelve thirty,” my mother added. “I think the van I rented will hold all of us. I’d like to meet your new friends.” She looked at her watch and murmured, “Eleven seventeen, Bill.” Looking up with an exhale, she said to me, “Especially your boyfriends.”

  Oh, God. Just take me now. “You’ve met Josh,” I said guardedly, knowing she was talking about Barnabas.

  “Who is that other young man talking to Nicki?” she asked.

  “It’s Nakita,” I corrected her, growing uncomfortable as Nakita seemed to deflate at something Barnabas said, the reaper’s anger washing away to leave only sadness. Something was going on. Josh, too, looked unhappy.

  “And Barnabas isn’t my boyfriend,” I said, my mouth dropping open as Nakita gave Barnabas a hug. “He’s more like . . .” I hesitated, blinking as Nakita turned and walked away, head down and looking miserable. “He’s helped me with a few issues,” I said, my voice preoccupied. What on earth is going on?

  My mother cleared her throat, and I turned, flushing at her unbelieving gaze. “He seems to be quite the Casanova.”

  When my mother got it wrong, she really got it wrong. “Yea-a-a-ah,” I said, just wanting to go over and find out what was up. “Um, would you mind if I, uh . . .”

  “Go!” my dad said, finding his own Bic pen in a pocket and topping my mother’s offer on my lackluster photograph. My mother huffed as I was turning away. I couldn’t help my smile. I knew that there wasn’t a chance that they would ever get back together again, but there was a peace that hadn’t been there before, and it was nice to have them both around me. Centered, as my dad would say.

  Head down as I lived for a moment in my tiny daydream, I tossed my empty shake cup away, feeling good as I joined Barnabas and Josh. Running a fry through his ketchup, Josh gave me an understanding grin as he took in my folks, one comfortable and almost sloppy, the other uptight and proper.

  “Madison, your mom looks . . . nice?” he offered, and I snorted.

  “I can’t imagine why you and your mother didn’t get along,” Josh added, and I slumped into my chair.

  “She’s okay,” I said, pulling myself upright so my mom wouldn’t frown. “She just wants to be sure I’m safe.”

  I reached for one of Josh’s fries, and he pushed the plate to me. A warm spot grew in my middle, and I smiled. Yeah, he liked me. A guy wouldn’t just give up his fries like that if he didn’t.

  Barnabas brought his gaze back from the shop that Nakita had gone into, his expression cross. “I can’t go for lunch,” he said irately.

  My eyebrows went up. “You heard that?”

  Josh squirted more ketchup out. “He heard your entire conversation. Sitting with him is like sitting with an FBI agent. I, though, would like to go to lunch.” He ate a fry, narrowly escaping dripping ketchup on himself. “I already cleared it with my mom,” he added, mouth full.

  I followed Barnabas’s dark gaze down the hall. He was brooding about Nakita. “I, ah, talked to Paul this morning,” I said, and Barnabas jerked his attention back to me. A trace of what might be alarm drifted through him, and I put up a hand.

  “We’re good,” I said. “Ron pulled his sword out of his patio and he doesn’t remember anything about Paul helping us last night.”

  “Good, good.” Barnabas’s words weren’t quite jiving with his body language. “I heard from Paul, too,” he added, eyes on the table.

  “Really?” I hoped Nakita was okay. It wasn’t like her to just . . . leave like that. She’d been on cloud nine, maybe literally, since finding out that I’d retained my timekeeper position and that things had the potential to change.

  The silence brought my attention back to the table. Josh was giving Barnabas a look, and the reaper was studiously ignoring him, gazing at his amulet. The usually flat stone was glowing, and I saw the hint of yellow in it. As in shifting to red, yellow.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, remembering Nakita’s angry, then sad mood.

  “Just tell her, Barney,” Josh prompted him, earning a glare from the reaper.

  “Tell me what?” I demanded.

  Still, Barnabas sat there with his lips pressed tight, hands clasped tightly on the table. I could see my mother beyond him, watching us.

  Josh slurped some of his drink. “Barnabas wants to go back to Ron,” he said flatly.

  My lips parted, and I sat up straight. “Excuse me?”

  My loud exclamation had caught my mom’s attention, but my dad caught her elbow and tugged her away, giving us the privacy that I deserved but she didn’t understand.

  “Ron?” I said softer, but no less vehemently.

  Barnabas’s expression had gone from defiant to miserable. Dark eyes pleading, he reached for my hands, and I pulled them away. No wonder Nakita was pissed.

  “It’s not like that,” he said, “and I don’t want to go back to Ron. I want to go back with Paul.”

  Paul?

  Seeing my anger hesitate, Barnabas leaned in. “Madison, I talked to Paul this morning after the seraph tuned your amulet. He says that not only does Ron not remember him helping us but that Ron doesn’t remember me leaving him, either. Ron thinks I’m still a light reaper in good standing. Why do you think the seraph did that?”

  “You want to go back?” I said, hating that my voice was so high. “You don’t think we can do this? After I convinced the seraphs to let us try?”

  “No!” He shook his head, glancing at Josh, who was getting a chuckle at his expense. “I
do believe. But so does Paul. He wants to help, and he can’t do it on his own. He needs someone to run interference for him, like Josh does with you.”

  Josh grinned, shoving a fry into his mouth. “I’m your secret agent backup,” he said, clearly enjoying himself.

  I slumped, elbows on the table.

  “You’ve got Nakita to help you, too,” Barnabas said softly, his head almost touching mine. “Paul doesn’t have anyone. I’ve known Ron his entire life, and it’s going to take that kind of knowledge to work around him. Paul is going to be sending you light reapers, and someone is going to have to lie to Ron about it.” He grinned softly, leaning back with a sly look. “If there’s one thing I can do, it’s lie. I’ve been lying to myself for eons. I’ll be there if you need me, but meantime, I’ll stay with Paul and watch for the light reapers who might be looking for new answers to old questions, and then cover for those who do.”

  My heart was aching. “Okay,” I said, feeling the lump in my throat start to grow. He was still leaving, but he was leaving with purpose. Barnabas was going to be light and dark both. He could do it. To ask him to stay would be selfish. “I’m going to miss you,” I said, refusing to even let my eyes tear up, much less cry.

  “Hey!” he said, his light touch on my hand seeming to warm me. “We can still talk, right?”

  I nodded, miserable, though I had everything I wanted. Barnabas had been with me from the moment I had woken up dead in the morgue, and saying good-bye was like . . . breaking up, sort of.

  Barnabas stood, and I blinked up at him. “It’s not like I’m dying,” he said as he leaned down to give me a hug. “But I’m going to miss the way you used to scramble to look like you just got out of bed in the morning.”