Yakum waved a hand, but whatever magic he threw at Frankie was ineffective. It ricocheted and knocked him squarely to the ground. “Help her.” Yakum’s voice cracked. “Please.”
Throw. The voice was in Claire’s head.
“What, Tamiel?” If she were going to give her instructions, she could at least make them clear.
“Not me,” the angel said breathlessly.
Then who? Not Yakum. He was staring only at Frankie. Spheres of pulsating energy began to grow around her.
Juliette gasped as she must have realized they were all in danger. She slunk down the alley and disappeared around the corner.
“For Chimera’s sake, drop the wand, Frankie,” Claire shouted.
Carothann bucked in her hand. Throw. It wasn’t a voice as much as an image.
It was the wand, not Tamiel, who was telling her what to do.
Carothann was actually communicating with her!
She had no time to stand around and wonder at this new, miraculous development. The energy surrounding Frankie buckled and began to expand toward them in a torrent of power.
THROW. The image reared up larger in Claire’s head. Surely she wasn’t just supposed to toss a conduit to pure magic straight into an ever-expanding energy field. It seemed like the worst idea imaginable. But she trusted Carothann with her life. She held the wand high. Purpose coursed through its wood. She heaved, and the wand soared across the alley toward the expansion of energy.
Carothann tumbled end over end and flew into the mass of power hurling toward them. It wasn’t going to make it in time; the bristling wave was almost on them. Claire reached over to grab Tamiel’s outstretched arm. If this was the end, Tamiel was the last thing she wanted to feel. She waited for the impact.
It didn’t come.
Carothann had arrived at the center of the energy and hovered over Frankie. It lit up brighter than Claire had ever seen it. Another deafening crack filled the air. Baltine broke at its center and disintegrated in a flash of light. Frankie screamed, her hands blistering from the intensity. Suddenly the expanding, destructive force fell back, imploding as it went. It continually folded in on itself, rushing into Carothann with unnatural speed.
And then it was over. Frankie fell to the ground, out cold. Carothann clattered to the pavement a few feet away.
Yakum rushed to his daughter and pressed his palms to her shoulders. A heat wave Claire could feel all the way across the alley dove into Frankie. Instantly, Tamiel was by his side. “Can I help?”
Yakum grabbed her hands and directed them to Frankie’s hips. Soon the girl’s whole body was bathed in the visible healing energy of the angels.
Claire walked slowly past them to Carothann. From a distance, it looked fine, and she carried that slim hope with her for the last few steps. But when she stood over it, she saw the crack running from tip to tail. She picked it up and stared, almost without comprehension, at the broken wand in her hand. There was magic still in its core, but it was fading fast. A cold numbness pierced her stomach. She sent positive thoughts directly at it. Heal. Be well.
Nothing changed.
How long she stood like that, looking at her wand, she didn’t know. A comforting hand finally dropped on her shoulder and squeezed. A small jolt of energy shot through her body. It must have been healing energy because instantly Claire’s nerves weren’t quite as ragged and she was able to take a breath that actually filled her lungs. She met Tamiel’s gaze.
“Can you fix it?” Tamiel asked.
“No.” Claire held the wand out to her. “Can you?”
Tamiel ran a hand across the wand. It lit up for an instant with the angel’s healing energy, but as soon as Tamiel withdrew her hand, it looked even more brittle.
“No. I can’t. I’m so sorry. I guess it doesn’t work that way.”
They both looked at the wand. “It saved Frankie,” Tamiel said finally.
Claire glanced down the alley. Frankie sat with her back to a brick wall. She looked dazed, but she would live.
“It saved us all. Carothann sacrificed itself for all of us,” Tamiel said and squeezed her shoulder again.
Claire’s mind cleared. True. Carothann’s actions were beyond noble. It had put the well-being of a client ahead of its own welfare. She was so selfish to be thinking about herself right now.
But—and it was such a big but—what would life be like without Carothann? The golden glow that always shimmered from within her wand was starting to die. Frankie’s band faded altogether, and Abby’s went from bright green to a sickly color like pond scum.
She knew what she had to do. She didn’t have much time.
“Tamiel? I need one last favor.”
Claire practically flew up the broken stairs to the second floor of Abby’s apartment building. Tamiel had sent her over in a flash. The angel’s unfamiliar magic still swirled around her, squeezing her in odd places like a sweater that was too tight. She prayed Abby was home. Carothann had one last flick, maybe two, and she couldn’t waste it on chasing Abby around.
The door to two-ten was ajar, and a pop song in perfect pitch drifted outside. Abby actually sounded…happy.
Yes, she knew exactly what she had to do. She looked down at Carothann in her hand. Do you have one more in you? Please hang on. She slipped inside.
Abby had her back to the door and something frying in a pan on the stove.
“Abby,” Claire said softly.
Abby turned, flinging what turned out to be a grilled cheese sandwich onto the floor. “Finally. Where have you been? I read your version of Cinderella. I know how it works. I’m ready.”
Claire choked out a sad laugh. “Abby, I’ve been thinking. We’ve been going about this all wrong. Actually, I’ve been going about everything wrong. Your happily ever after isn’t a man. It’s….” Claire faltered and glanced down at Carothann. As raw as she was, she couldn’t give a long explanation. “Look, get your phone. It’s easier if I just show you.”
Abby stepped over the grilled cheese and grabbed the new iPhone off the coffee table. “You’re not going to take it back, are you?”
“Get ready.” Claire sighed. “You’re about to have the most important phone call of your life. You might even want to put the spatula down.”
She raised Carothann and pointed it at the phone. She could feel the wand pulling hard at the little magic it could still access.
Please. An image of hope flooded her head. The wand wanted one last moment as much as she did. It wouldn’t be easy. There were all sorts of paperwork and releases, memories to implant, MP3 files of Abby’s voice to create and send to the right people. You can do it. She sent the thought to Carothann, and the wand trembled in her hand. She flicked it at the phone. Did it have the strength?
The phone buzzed. Claire squeezed the wand in a gentle thank-you. “You better answer it.”
“Hello,” Abby said.
“Hello. Abby Rodgers?” a thin, male voice came from the speaker.
“Yes.”
“This is Russ from The Song.”
Abby put her hand over the phone as her eyes widened. “The TV show? For real?”
“For real,” Claire said.
“I don’t know why,” Russ continued, “it’s been so hard to get in touch with you, but look. There’s a car coming to your address in Hollywood in five minutes to take you to the studio.”
“What for?” Abby said, her voice also thin with amazement.
“For your rehearsal with the studio band, and our producer wants you to go on camera to tell everyone what it will mean to you if you’re chosen by one of our coaches. What song are you singing again?”
Abby looked to Claire, who whispered. “The one you were just singing. It’s wonderful.”
“‘It Must Be Magic.’”
“I like that song.” Russ’s
voice drifted out of the phone. “And I shouldn’t tell you this, but that’s a particular favorite of June Jones. I’ve seen your audition tape. You could go far on this show.” He hung up with a click.
“Am I really going to be on The Song?”
“You’re going to have to be chosen, but with a voice like that… You heard him. You’ll do well. I truly think it’s your destiny. But you need to grab it. No one is going to hand it to you. Not even me.” She could feel Carothann fading in her hand. It wouldn’t be long now. “Oh, and Abby?”
“Yes?”
Claire waved her wand for the last time. “Be grateful.” It wasn’t much, a little birth blessing twenty-two years late, but it was all Carothann had left. And Claire hoped it might make all the difference to Abby.
As the last of Carothann’s magic reached out to caress the girl, the hardness in her eyes softened. The first true smile, at least the first Claire had seen, jumped to her lips.
“Thank you,” Abby said as if she truly meant it. “Singing has always been my dream.”
“Then go get it. I’ll lock up.”
Abby walked out the door with a new lightness in her step. Claire looked down again at Carothann. It had slipped away during that last exchange. And now, just a second later, Claire held only a small branch, dry and dull, in her hand.
Good-bye, old friend. The emptiness in her stomach and chest spread everywhere. Head down, Claire trudged to the door and froze.
With Carothann gone, she had no idea how to get home.
Claire didn’t know when she had last been so tired. Getting to Santa Monica from Hollywood without magic had been exhausting. She had tried calling Tamiel while she was still at Abby’s. In her head. Out loud. Nothing. In the end, she had grabbed a fistful of quarters from a paper cup marked with LAUNDRY in red Sharpie. Three buses and a half a mile walk, and she was finally home.
Was this what life would be like from now on? The worst part was that she had way too much time to think. On the first bus, all the way down Sunset Boulevard, she’d just stared out the window at the huge mansions. Too numb to cry. But when she’d transferred to the Big Blue Bus Line, problems with no solutions began to circle in her head. She couldn’t go back to the FGC. Juliette, the coward, was probably there right now, spinning a story where Claire had made a million missteps, and she, Juliette, had tried to stop her. No matter what the future brought, she would never work with Juliette again.
Besides, even if the FGC did take her back into another department and city, thanks to her poor cousin and those fairy pictures, she already knew what happened when a mistake, or even the perception of an error, followed you around. On top of that were the filters in the wands. How had Tamiel put it? Those filters had cut operatives off at the knees. Another betrayal she just couldn’t get beyond.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. In her mind’s eye, she imagined her name on Juliette’s case board darkening from gold to black. It was that simple. She had left the FGC. Just like Pierre. It was the stupidest…and the bravest thing she had ever done.
What on earth would she do next?
She wouldn’t think about it now. Instead, she would sleep until she woke up and then decide what she wanted for breakfast and then lunch and finally dinner. Maybe she would head over to the farmers’ market on Arizona Avenue to see what stone fruit was ripest. She could take it slow. There would be centuries to figure out how to navigate this new future as a godmother without magic.
When she got home, her tiny living room seemed hugely empty. The couch and the coffee table took up most of the room, but what wasn’t there loomed larger.
“Tamiel?” she said and hoped against hope the angel would walk into existence by the coffee table or from the kitchen doorway.
Again nothing.
She sniffed at the air. Salt and brine from the ocean breeze tickled her nose, but no pine, no fresh mountain air.
Okay, I can deal with this. Why had she even thought Tamiel might be here? The case was closed. Frankie was back where she belonged, and there was no reason anymore for Tamiel to come calling.
She squared her shoulders and headed over to her tiny office in a nook of the room. Carothann’s box sat on the edge of her desk like always. She ran a finger across its top, and even though a tightness squeezed her chest, she finally flipped it open. She couldn’t catch her breath. The velvet-lined case resembled a casket more than a refuge, and sealing Carothann up inside was the end of so much more than her wand. She closed her eyes and forced a breath deep into her lungs before gently tucking Carothann into the velvet folds. It looked so small and pale against the rich, red fabric. She couldn’t bring herself to close the lid.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she turned away and stood in the middle of her living room, frozen, not knowing what to feel or where to go next.
Suddenly Tamiel stepped into the space right in front of her and without a word took Claire in her arms.
Claire pressed her forehead to the angel’s shoulder. The silver cloth of Tamiel’s shirt rose up along her shoulder, caressing Claire’s head and repositioning it so her cheek rested along Tamiel’s neck. The familiar mountain breeze fresh with pine rolled over her, and then a scent she had never smelled before. It brimmed with hints of jasmine, vanilla, and other things she couldn’t identify. It smelled like…like…bliss.
Let the pain go. Tamiel’s voice, gentle and calm, touched her mind. Celebrate Carothann’s choice. Mourn its loss, but honor its sacrifice.
Tamiel slid a hand down her back. The embrace buzzed with healing energy, this time targeting her spirit rather than her body. The emptiness eased a little, and the clenching around her heart loosened. Claire didn’t care that she was being manipulated. What if this connection was the dangerous angel trick the FGC claimed it was? So what. If someone had the talent to heal mind, body, and soul, shouldn’t she use it?
Claire relaxed in Tamiel’s arms and breathed deeply. The scent, the touch, the comforting voice in her head washed over her and drove her anxiety and grief into the background. The emotions were still there, but no longer overwhelming.
“Better?” Tamiel asked, pulling away.
Claire nodded. “Where were you?”
“With Yakum. He sends his regards.” Tamiel tilted her head for a beat. “I think you were right about him. Frankie has a real shot at being okay, and not just physically.”
“I thought that…” Claire’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know if I would see you again. I mean with Frankie’s case being closed and all.”
“I had to come back.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Tamiel shrugged, “I was never sent here for Frankie.”
Claire’s brows furrowed.
“I’m your guardian angel.”
“What?” She had heard the words, but surely she had misunderstood.
“We’re not just assigned humans, you know.”
Son of a banshee. She should have known right from the start in the alley, when she’d almost fallen headlong into those flaming eyes. That was when Tamiel had claimed her. Or maybe when Tamiel kept sending her guidance and messages. She was a blooming idiot. She had been from that first moment in the alley until—
“And if I’m being truthful,” Tamiel cut into her thoughts, “I had to come back for this too.” She paused only for an instant before she moved.
Claire didn’t know if it was another one of those kooky angel tricks, but everything swung into slow motion. As Tamiel leaned in closer, the fire in her eyes rose into incandescent points and the light spread across her face.
Claire was mesmerized and started to tip forward before she squeezed her own eyes shut to prevent herself from falling into Tamiel. Robbed of her sight, her other senses took over. New smells of sunshine and freshly cut grass enveloped her. As Tamiel’s head came closer, the energy that always swirled around her r
eached out to Claire. It caressed her face, running across her brow and down her cheeks, circling close to her mouth. Eyes still closed, Claire swallowed hard, waiting for—
Tamiel’s lips dropped on hers. The touch was so soft Claire was uncertain that their mouths had actually met. But then her lips started to tingle, and Tamiel’s hand slid down her side to her hip. Tamiel pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened.
The fleeting thought of it being too soon after Carothann sailed over her, but no, she needed the closeness, the chance to forget for just a moment. Claire reached out too and tentatively circled her arms around Tamiel’s waist. The silver material of her clothes pooled up around her hands, encouraging her to hold on more tightly. As if she needed any encouragement.
Tamiel’s tongue played over Claire’s lips, teasing them apart.
Claire moaned and slid her tongue forward. Her mouth was burning hot. The fire? Was it there too? The heat didn’t burn. Instead, the tingling still on her lips shot straight to her core. Her whole body shook with desire. Could she handle this? She broke the kiss and opened her eyes.
Tamiel stood before her, longing etched into her face. Her lips trembled. Surely she wasn’t nervous? She cupped Claire’s cheek and ran her thumb over Claire’s lips all the way to the corner and then let her hand drop.
“Claire, I would like to be with you tonight.” She glanced down as though she was afraid. Of Claire’s response? Or what this would mean for her personally?
“Me too,” she whispered, not sure if this was the best time to leap. Her nerves were still so raw with the day’s events, but not jumping was unthinkable.
She slid her hand into Tamiel’s and started for the bedroom.
“Oh,” Tamiel whispered, “we don’t need a bed.” She pulled her close, raised her hand, and kissed the knuckles. Then, slowly she lowered her mouth to Claire’s in a tender kiss. Claire sensed she had just meant the gesture for reassurance and comfort, but Claire caught Tamiel’s lower lip between her teeth and nibbled. Now it was Tamiel’s turn to groan. She heard it in her ears and in her mind.
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