by Kim Harrison
Seeing me looking at him like I’d taken a week’s worth of stupid pills, Ron strode forward among the empty tables with his usual quickness, halting with a comical abruptness when Barnabas flung out a hand in warning and Nakita suddenly had her sword out. The waitress made a muffled yelp, ducking into the back and babbling for the phone.
Better and better.
Ron stopped, his expression frustrated as he assessed the situation. Barnabas calmly crossed his ankles and leaned back against the table, looking good in his casual tee and black jeans. “You’re not touching her…Chronos,” the reaper said calmly, softly, his voice heavy with threat.
Ron’s wrinkles grew deeper. “Back off. Her predecessor is dead. Who else is going to tweak her amulet? You? I’m here as the superior timekeeper under seraph orders. You think I’m going to violate those? How else could I find you, shielded as you are?”
On my other side, Nakita steamed, her grip on her sword hilt tightening. “You might if you thought you could get away with it,” she said, and Paul, almost forgotten, inched forward.
“You’re not superior, Ron. You’re just older,” I said, then glanced at Paul, wondering. He’d helped me until Nakita had hit him. My guess was that he was going to have a black eye by morning. He’d never believe me again. I weighed the chances that Ron would do something sneaky against the real chance that my amulet wasn’t tuned properly. I didn’t want to go through that hell again, and I didn’t want a seraph down here to fix it instead. Ron didn’t look tired or distressed, and he had been flashing forward, too. Clearly something was wrong with me…again.
“He’s right; it’s over,” I said, taking my amulet off and tossing it to Ron.
The silver-wrapped stone smacked into Ron’s hand. Barnabas stiffened, and Nakita almost had kittens, falling to my side and finding an aggressive stance. It was a bold move on my part, but I was trying to prove to Ron that I wasn’t afraid of him. Even if I was. I’d never have done it if I didn’t have two reapers and two guardian angels standing by. I didn’t think I could bear another look at the stars, raw and unfiltered, seen through the divine. “Just fix it,” I said with a sigh, feeling naked without my amulet. “I can’t take more than two flash forwards like that.”
“Two?” Ron said, the amulet forgotten in his hands. “There was more than one?”
I smiled at him, lips closed. From the back, I could hear a frantic conversation, but at least the cook hadn’t come out with a loaded shotgun. Yet. Barnabas and Nakita exchanged a look, and, sighing dramatically, the dark reaper slunk to the kitchen door. She hesitated, then dissolved her sword. Hair tossed back, she pushed on the double door and went in. Screaming quickly ensued, and we all waited until the twin thumps came before we turned back to one another.
Looking at Barnabas, Ron inched forward and extended my amulet. “You have to be wearing it for me to adjust it,” he said.
I waited until Nakita came out before I stepped from Barnabas. A quick glance back at Shoe and I frowned. He looked scared. Breath held, I looped the simple cord around my neck, then stiffened when Ron took the stone in his fingers. I had trusted him once. Never again.
My jaw relaxed as a reddish light leaked from my amulet. The slight headache I didn’t even realize I had lifted from me, and I exhaled, no longer feeling like I needed to hold myself together.
Ron’s hand slipped from my amulet. Barnabas cleared his throat, clearly wanting me to step back near him, but I didn’t, and it was Ron who moved first, with a new wariness in his stance. “Thanks,” I said dryly. “I appreciate that.”
Looking uncomfortable, Ron glanced at Paul, then at Shoe. “I adjusted your pull on the divine,” he said gruffly. “Your predecessor was alive. You’re not. It’s going to take some tweaking.” Wiping his hands together, he backed up. “I don’t know what you had hoped to do by this. You made a bloody mess of it. How many people need their memories adjusted?”
Shoe scuffed his feet, and I shifted to hide him. “A few,” I said. “And a few more now that you’re butting in again. We can take care of it. And what do you mean, a bloody mess? It looks to me like I fixed it. No one died.”
Paul edged forward to stand beside Ron as the older man pointed rudely at me. “Your job makes you a murderer, Madison,” he said, and Barnabas stiffened. “Perhaps not with your own hands, but by your actions. Attempting to soothe your conscience by trying to save people whose souls are not even in danger only makes a mess and is an exercise in futility.”
An exercise in futility? I thought, my chin lifting as I took a step forward. “I’ve died once, and trust me, the people we just saved would have wanted it that way.” I was almost in his face, and I jumped when Barnabas pulled me back. “We saved three people’s lives,” I said from the security of his grip. “Four if you count Shoe not taking the blame for Ace’s actions. They’re all going to feel the sun on their faces tomorrow.” Crap, I was almost crying again. “That feels good to me!” I finished hotly, wiping my eyes and not caring if Ron saw it.
And I did feel good. Sure, there was the problem of the flash forwards, but I didn’t think I’d be living nightmares like tonight again. My amulet had needed adjusting. Thank you, God, for sending Ron.
“Maybe it was their time to go and you messed it up,” Ron said as he glanced past the night-blackened windows, clearly thinking about leaving.
I smiled at him, thinking that for all his years, I’d been somewhere he hadn’t. Maybe that was why I’d been fated to become the dark timekeeper. “That’s fate, Ron, and you don’t believe in fate. Or do you?”
His attention came back from the parking lot as he realized I’d basically said what a seraph had told him not two months ago. “Fine, you win,” I said. “Congratulations. That worthless pile over there in the corner is safe. Got an angel and everything. Nothing to stop you from leaving. We’ve got a lot of cleanup to do.” My thoughts went to the two people in the kitchen. “People to give memories to,” I added, and Shoe cleared his throat behind me.
“Fate is an excuse,” Ron blurted. “You don’t know what people will choose. Ace might have changed someday without all this.”
“Wrong!” I barked, and Paul’s expression became pensive. “But I’m not going to argue with you. Whether you accept it or not, I believe in choice as much as you do. But that pile of shepherd dung,” I said, pointing to Ace, who was hearing everything but ignoring us as he nursed his hurts, “wasn’t going to change without some heavy intervention. He might now, but not the way you left him, knowing he had a guardian angel and a get-out-of-death-free card.”
Paul’s ears went red. Ron turned to him with a hush of sliding fabric.
“Will you just leave?” I said, retreating to Barnabas. “And take your spying apprentice with you,” I added.
Paul’s mouth fell open at my caustic words, but I winked at him when Ron glanced away, and Grace giggled.
“You should give him more respect. He knows more than you do,” Ron said as he drew Paul closer to him, and Barnabas snorted.
“I think he knows more than you do, Ron,” I said. “Go already. And don’t let the scythe hit you on the way out.”
Nakita was fidgeting beside me, but I gave it little thought as Ron turned. “Come on, Paul,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
Suddenly, Nakita blurted, “I’m sorry I hit you, rising timekeeper,” and both Barnabas and I jerked. She was red, and at our blank looks, she added, “What? I’m sorry. Can’t I apologize?”
Stoic and silent, Ron simply vanished. Paul, though, was still here. His sandals scuffing the tile, Paul looked at the empty space beside him where Ron had been. “Um,” he mumbled as his attention came back to us. “Thanks, Nakita. It’s okay.”
“You know I said that only to get him off your case, right?” I said, and Paul touched his nose, smiling before he vanished as well in a shining line of light.
With a heavy exhale, Shoe fell back onto the bench seat, muttering.
Barnabas took his seat
as well, thoughtful. “Did you notice the rising timekeeper’s amulet is the same color as mine?” he asked.
“Really?” I said, but then the oddity of Barnabas’s question hit me, and I turned to him. “Is that important?”
Startled out of his thoughts, Barnabas looked everywhere but at me. “It should be shifting up the spectrum to red.” The reaper’s eyes landed on mine. “I bet Ron isn’t happy about that.”
My lips parted as I wondered what that might mean, but Barnabas cleared his throat and looked to the silent kitchen. “We need to go. Nakita, are the cook and the waitress set?”
Nakita was taking a picture of the dusty light fixture, holding the camera at a very odd angle. “They’re fine,” she said as she looked at the screen. “Where’s your wallet, Madison?” she asked. “Still in the truck?”
“Oh, yeah!” I said, turning back to my plate of food. “My phone is out there, too.” But when I looked at the golden, crispy fries, my reach for them hesitated. Slowly my smile evaporated, replaced by a feeling of despair.
“I’m not hungry anymore!” I wailed, and Nakita blinked at me. “Don’t you get it?” I cried, looking down at my amulet. “I was eating because my amulet wasn’t working right. Ron fixed it, and now I’m not hungry anymore!”
“Thank God for small favors,” Barnabas muttered as he pulled himself upright. “It was really gross, Madison.”
Depressed, I sank back down. “But I like eating,” I said mournfully. Darn it, it wasn’t fair! Unhappy, I fingered a French fry. Grace dropped down, warming my hand as she offered condolences the only way she could—until she thought up a poem, that was.
“There once was a girl who liked fries,” Grace started, and Barnabas made an exasperated sound.
“Your wallet, Madison?” Nakita offered.
“Yeah, right.” I muttered, and I stood.
“Sorry, Madison,” Shoe said, clearly not understanding why fries were so important to me, but knowing I was upset.
“It’s okay.” Head down, I angled toward the door, slowing as my amulet seemed to grow heavy, warm almost, but a sudden thought pulled me to a stop. How had Nakita known my wallet was in the truck?
Suspicious, I spun back to the table, my guess borne out when I saw Barnabas’s eyes had silvered.
“What…wait!” I exclaimed, lurching back to the table. “Shoe! Don’t look at him!”
Barnabas’s head swiveled to me. A drop of fear slid through me at his alien eyes, silver and glowing with a holy light. Across the table from him, Shoe gasped, breaking the grip Barnabas had on him and dropping his head. Ace was already staring vacantly, his lips parted, clearly still under Barnabas’s influence.
“Madison!” Barnabas barked, eyes still glowing as Shoe rubbed his face and blinked.
I tugged Shoe up and out of the booth. “Not Shoe,” I said. “I promised him he could remember.”
Barnabas’s jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. “Madison…” he grumbled, his eyes again a steady brown.
“Yeah, that’s my name,” I said hotly. “Mad Madison. I say Shoe can remember, and I’m your boss.”
Grace made a long oooooh sound, and the second guardian angel on the light fixture went quiet, her wings stilling to make her vanish. Barnabas’s eyes narrowed as he turned in the seat and looked me up and down. “No, you’re not,” he said, and Nakita scuffed her feet behind me. “I’m grim. Anytime I want, I’m out of here.”
He wouldn’t, I thought, panicking. “Oh, yeah?” I said, almost daring him.
“Yeah,” Barnabas said, clearly not happy.
Beside me, Shoe looked frightened. I took a slow breath, trying to find some way to keep from alienating Barnabas. He’d been there when I had died, tried to save me, believed in me. I trusted him, and he was probably the only person who might really understand me.
“Yeah,” I said more softly. “Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not your boss.” I turned to Nakita, seeing her eyes wide and frightened. “Nakita, I’m not yours, either, but this is my scythe, and I want Shoe to remember.”
“Yes, you are,” Nakita said immediately, the surety of her voice making Shoe frown. “I’m sworn to your will and your bidding.”
I was sooooo glad that Ace was out of it. It was embarrassing enough having Shoe hear this. “My being your boss is not the world I want to live in,” I said, trying to make her understand. Pleading now, I looked back to the table. “Barnabas, I told Shoe I’d let him remember tonight. Please.”
“I didn’t promise him,” he said tightly, but the anger directed toward me was gone.
“Please,” I tried again.
Barnabas seemed to grow smaller as he exhaled, hands gesturing loosely. “I can’t let him run around knowing what happened! It just isn’t done!”
“Why not?” I asked bluntly. “How are people supposed to make a change in their lives if they don’t remember? Dreams? That’s poppycock.”
“Poppycock?” Nakita echoed, clearly confused.
“I want Shoe and Ace both to remember,” I decided suddenly. “No fake memories for either of them.”
Barnabas looked at Ace, who was still blinking stupidly at nothing. “No!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at me, which made the guardian angels above whisper among themselves, making bets as to how this was going to end. “Not going to happen,” he added loudly, glowering up at them as they giggled. “It’s the rules, Madison.”
I stared at him, the fingers of one hand making a slow roll of sound against the tabletop.
“Stare all you want,” Barnabas said, not looking at me. “I’m clearing their memories.”
Taking Shoe’s elbow, I moved him to stand behind me.
“Uh, Barnabas?” Nakita finally said. “I don’t think saying no to the dark timekeeper is a good idea, even if she’s wrong. She’s going to be able to stop time eventually.”
Behind me, Shoe said softly, “I want to remember.”
“Memory is all we have,” I said, trying to make Barnabas understand. “It’s why we make the choices we do. How do you expect anyone to change if you smother the past in a lie?”
Slowly Barnabas’s jaw unclenched, and I felt a stirring of victory. “It’s going to cause problems,” he warned, and I straightened, smiling.
“So what?” I said flippantly. “Shoe won’t say anything.” I spun to him. “Will you?”
Shoe was shaking his head, still worried. “No one would believe me. Grim reapers? Guardian angels? Timekeepers? They’d lock me up.”
From my other side, Nakita coaxed, “Timekeepers change for a reason, Barnabas. That’s all Madison seems to do. Change, change, change.”
Barnabas frowned again. “Get him out of here,” he muttered, and, elated, I grabbed Shoe’s arm, wondering if Barnabas was only pacifying me, planning on coming back later, when I wouldn’t know about it.
“What about Ace?” I asked, feeling ten feet tall.
“Out,” Barnabas said tightly. “You got Shoe. Ace is not an option.”
I took a breath to argue, then hesitated when Ace’s guardian angel circled Grace twice and flew to me, whispering, “Grace says, ‘There once was a boy in a diner, who thought no one else could be finer. He wasn’t that kind, almost lost his mind, till an angel became his reminder.’”
Oh, really?
Barnabas raised his eyebrows suspiciously, and, refusing to answer his unspoken question, I began backing up, stumbling when our locked gazes were broken. “Come on,” I breathed to Shoe. “I have to get my wallet.” Grabbing his hand, I tugged him to the door.
“What about Ace?” he asked, looking behind him until I turned his head away.
“Don’t look. I think Ace will be okay,” I said as the door jingled open and Nakita sighed loudly. “His guardian angel is going to block Barnabas.”
Shoe twisted to look through the plate-glass windows. “Are you sure?”
It was cooler out here, and I was glad for the lab coat as I held my arms around myself and waited. I wa
sn’t cold—but if I had been alive, I would have been.
“I’ve been told cherubs sit next to God,” I said, looking up at the stars and smiling. “I think a guardian angel can beat Barnabas’s skills with a stick.”
Shoe’s cough brought my attention down, and in the buzz of the security light, I met his startled gaze. “Really?” he stammered, glancing into the diner and then back to me. “Cherubs, eh?”
I shrugged. “Grace is. Just promise me you won’t say anything about tonight.”
Head down, he smiled as he scuffed his toe into the broken sidewalk. “You want me to lie?”
I couldn’t help my grin. “Well, I am the dark timekeeper.”
A twinge tightened across my mind, and my amulet grew warm, then cold. It was Barnabas using his amulet, and I glanced in as he leaned toward Ace. I wasn’t surprised when Ace woke up, his empty look shifting to hatred as he exclaimed, “You can go to hell, reaper!”
Barnabas looked out the window at me, cross. “Madison!” he complained.
Nakita laughed, the sound coming faintly through the glass. “I told you! Don’t mess with her.”
Smiling, I turned away. Shoe was standing in front of me, his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to forget this,” Shoe said wistfully. “I don’t want to forget any of it.”
“You won’t,” I said confidently, and with a sudden idea, I leaned back against the brick wall of the restaurant to untie my sneaker. Shoe watched in confusion until I got the lace entirely undone, pulling it from my yellow sneaker with a rasping sound. “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “To remember everything by.” I was breathless, and I didn’t even need to breathe. What if he thought I was weird or something?
But Shoe grinned, and I exhaled in relief. “Thanks,” he said, taking it. “I, um, don’t have—Wait,” he said, digging in his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing me a coupon from the Chicken Coop. “It’s not like I expect you to use it,” he said, red-faced. “But the only other thing I’ve got on me is my driver’s license.”
I smiled, looking at it in the dim light. “Bye, Shoe,” I said as I rocked back. “Have a great life. Be good. Make good choices.” I lifted the coupon. “Thanks.”