“Hmmm, you sure about that? You look mostly brown to me.”

  “Not-uh, I’m black,” Abe insists.

  Gabe chuckles. I hear him shift. “Why don’t you go get that candy now before the machine runs out.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Abe’s voice is suddenly shy. “Do you, uh, want to see my Batman later?”

  “You got a Batman?” Gabe sounds impressed. “Sure I would. I just got some sh..stuff I gotta’ do first. Enjoy the sugar high little man.”

  I open the door just as Gabe makes it to the top step and staggers in. I take the plastic grocery bags off his arms and nod to the table where I’ve already set out a protein shake, three power bars, and a bruised apple.

  “I’m not…” he begins. The look I give him is as explosive as a landmine. His words falter. “Yes ma’am,” he sighs and sinks into the chair.

  “He okay?” He looks toward Tarren as he unwraps a power bar and shoves an impressive proportion of it in his mouth.

  “No change.” I open the first grocery bag and wrinkle my nose. “What are these?”

  Gabe cranes his neck. “Compression socks.”

  “Last time I checked, Tarren wasn’t a hundred years old. He doesn’t need compression socks.”

  “Their house was cold. Really cold.” Gabe takes a long chug of the protein shake. “They’re sisters, you know. Mildred, she’s the baby at 82. She putters around with her walker, likes to follow her kids and grandkids on Facebook, but Florence can’t get out of bed. She’s the one with the IV hookup. I found them some blankets in the attic, but it was so damn cold.”

  “What does that have to do with compression socks?”

  “They’re on a fixed income, and apparently heating can get expensive.” Gabe swallows and stuffs the rest of the power bar in his mouth. “They had an extra pair of compression socks they were looking to sell, so…” Gabe shrugs. As I watch small, sad hues of yellow alight in his aura, I wonder how much of our limited funds he gave them. Probably too much.

  I don’t like seeing those yellows in his aura.

  “I bought Tarren a lap dance,” I say, “while we were at one of those skanky strip joints.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows hitch up, and the yellows begin to fade from his aura. He swallows the rest of the power bar. “How’d that go?”

  “Not so well,” I admit. “We had to pay her extra after it was over.”

  Gabe laughs, and shades of green whisper through his aura. He glances toward the bed as if to make sure Tarren is still unconscious, then leans toward me. His voice is low and conspiratorial.

  “Okay, so this one time, Tammy and I were staking out this angel’s house. Mom was too sick to come, so it must have been seven, maybe eight years ago. Tarren was nothing but a beanpole with his nose in a science textbook. Hated the mission. Just wanted to stay in the car. This is before he went complete Terminator. Guy had no game. None.” Gabe cuts the air with his hand for emphasis.

  “But we dragged him on the mission. Tammy was stationed at the front door. I was at the back. We needed somebody on the roof of the neighbor’s house with a pair of binoculars to see if the angel was home and to track his location while we broke in.”

  The greens grow stronger, more vibrant in Gabe’s aura. “All Tarren had to do was sit on a roof. Easiest job in the universe. Monkey could’ve done it. It was, hell, I don’t know where. Somewhere cold. Lots of snow. Christmas time.” Gabe bites his lip.

  “Don’t start laughing,” I chide him.

  “I’m not, I’m not.” Gabe takes a breath. “So this neighbor, fuck, this guy must have loved Christmas the way models love lettuce and cocaine, because you could have landed a plane in his yard. Tons of lights, inflatable snowman, blinking icicles, Santa and his reindeer on the roof, the whole works. Tarren, god, I don’t know what happened. Maybe there was a patch of ice, or maybe it was just all those blinding lights.”

  “He fell!” I squeak.

  “Oh yeah.” Gabe’s grin infuses his entire face. “Took Santa, Donner, Dasher, and Prancer with him. Loudest god damned crash I’ve ever heard in my life. Tarren, he…he…,” Gabe chokes on laughter, gasping hard to keep it down, “knocked himself out cold.”

  “No!”

  Gabe nods. “We…we found him all tangled in reindeer and blinking lights. Shit.” Gabe takes another deep breath to control his giggles. “Every light in the neighborhood came on.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “Tammy and I, we just…we just…” His eyes are wet, and the giggles pour out of him.

  “Come on Gabe.”

  “We…we….” His face is beet red.

  “Keep it together.”

  “We grabbed him and ran. There was still a reindeer hanging off him when we got to the car. I think it was Rudolph.”

  I try to hold down my laughter, but it’s no use. It comes out of me in a long wave that locks my stomach muscles tight. “Was he okay?” I pant.

  Gabe tries to form words. “Broken…broken arm. M…mild concussion. We…never told…him…about…about Rudolph.”

  Gabe is lost in giggles, and I slide to the floor. The laughter is a flood, a crazy kind of catharsis that soon has nothing to do with Gabe’s story, just the green in his aura, those beautiful happy colors.

  ***

  The giggles eventually subside. I make sure Gabe finishes all of his food before allowing him to set up Tarren’s IV. I’m surprised at how gentle, how competent he is with the equipment, though I shouldn’t be, knowing that he was to one who took care of Diana as cancer slowly ate away her life.

  Together, Gabe and I watch some YouTube videos on affixing a catheter. I expect him to make some ribald jokes, but he watches the videos in silent concentration then banishes me to the bathroom while he performs the procedure.

  Tarren is absolutely going to kill us when he wakes up. He’ll probably take his time too, practicing all those excruciating nerve pinches he knows.

  When Gabe gives me permission to come out, I tell him about the conversation between Raven’s mom and the police officers.

  “I think she called her family and told them she was running away,” I explain. “She knew the risk she presented and didn’t want to put them in danger.”

  Gabe sits on the floor and pets Sir Hopsalot, who lounges in his lap. “Okay, so what does she do next?”

  “I think she goes back to the mansion,” I tell him. “She may have hated War for changing her, but where else can she go? Family and friends are out. Her options are limited.

  “The mansion’s toast.”

  “She doesn’t know that. If she’s on foot, she may not have made it back yet. I can sit on the site for the night and see if she shows up.”

  Gabe looks at me. “That’s kind of a long shot. You want some fresh air or something?”

  “It’s for the mission. You know, saving people and…Yes, please.” I think about actually sliding to my knees to beg. “It’s just, I can hear…downstairs. I can hear her mother crying. She doesn’t stop. Won’t stop.”

  Gabe and I look at each other. He absently scratches Sir Hopsalot behind his long, hanging ear. “Alright, but you can’t go alone.”

  “No. You’re too…” I hastily reroute my words, “…needed here. We shouldn’t leave Tarren alone, and Raven may get scared and come back to the motel.”

  Gabe stares at me, and there’s no doubt he picked up on my epic verbal fumble. Quantum Queen of Tact.

  “I know,” he says softly, “but you still can’t go alone. That didn’t work out so well for you last time, did it Rambo?”

  I deserve this smack down, so I stay quiet while Gabe pulls out his cellphone and makes a call. When I hear who picks up on the other end, I don’t even try to hide my groan.

  Chapter 28

  I pull up against a curb in an upper-class subdivision about a quarter mile away from the mansion. Turning off the engine of the jeep, I wonder again if I’m the worst sister in the world for coming out here on this poor excuse of a mission instead of staying at the motel and looking after my brothers.

  Yeah, probably.

  This is a fool’s errand. Even if Raven returned to the mansion, she could have come and gone hours ago. And now I’ve got to babysit The Totem thanks to Gabe’s misplaced concern. It figures. The group kidnaps and tortures me, and Gabe makes them drinking buddies in an afternoon.

  My breath turns to plumes as I step out of the jeep. Everything is quiet and snow-slogged. The sun creeps down below the horizon, and lights glow in the windows of the houses to my right. Smoke even curls out of some chimneys. How very quaint.

  I let the cold settle on me and decide to put on my heavier black jacket. I wonder if the whole Totem roster will show up, or just one or two of them. I definitely wouldn’t mind having another conversation with Bear Mask. If he isn’t in charge, someone needs to pass him the leadership baton quick. Then there’s Rain Bailey, but I don’t want to think about Rain, not his dark brown eyes, his spikey hair, those lips…

  “Stop,” I say out loud and focus on tightening a gun holster on my right thigh. Next, the left. I fill one holster with a fully loaded Glock and, after some hesitation, put our only spare tranq gun in the other. If Raven shows up, what the hell am I going to do? Take her down like an ordinary set of wings? Try and sell her on the miracle diet of rat energy? How will The Totem react if I try to go all buddy buddy, even if she is a terrified young girl? I’m not sure they even understand enough about angels to appreciate the complexity of her situation.

  “She’s not going to show,” I remind myself. I swing the sniper rifle case over my shoulder. The extra protection will come in handy in case any other angels decide to come back and sniff around. Not likely. The mansion was just a temporary stop-over, not some permanent headquarters filled with important files and valuable keepsakes worth rescuing. Still, a girl’s got to be prepared.

  I keep off of the sidewalk, melting into the darkness where the streetlamps and oncoming headlights won’t find me. I give the mansion a wide berth, but even from a distance I can see that the firefighters and police team have wrapped up their investigation for the night. The entire mansion is cordoned off with police tape, and the area is quiet, save for the strong pulse of a nearby aura. I make my way toward it.

  Just off the driveway to the mansion, Rain leans up against a battered truck, wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. A bulky backpack hangs off one shoulder, and a red knit cap hides his brown hair. He slouches, hands plunged deep into his pockets, and occasionally throws a glance behind his shoulder at the mansion.

  At least he’s not wearing that idiot mask, I think to myself as I study him from a distance. Without meaning to, I pull up the memory of his lips on mine. Did it mean anything that he tried to save me, or was he just following Gabe’s orders?

  I shake the thoughts away. There’s nothing between me and Rain Bailey. Less than nothing. I need to be smart about this. Keep him at a distance so I don’t make a royal fool of myself. Or hurt him.

  I creep up on Rain, wondering how close I can get without him noticing. This turns out to be just behind him where I watch over his shoulder as he pulls out his cellphone and opens a new Facebook update that’s come through.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hiss at him.

  The phone tumbles out of his hands, and he whirls around, aura crackling in surprise. “I…I…Jesus.”

  I’m mildly disappointed that he didn’t pull a weapon on me. He’s obviously not anywhere near battle-ready, but I suppose I shouldn’t have expected otherwise.

  Rain bends down to collect his phone. “What, was I supposed to be on patrol already?” He brushes the snow off his screen. “Good thing I sprung for the case.” He stands up and gives me a guarded look. “Where’s Gabe?”

  “Is that your truck?”

  “No. It’s Bear’s.”

  “You can’t park here.”

  He frowns. “Why not?”

  “Because….” I wave my arms at the police tape and the burned wreckage of the guesthouse.

  “Ohhhhh.” Rain follows my gestures. “No, I don’t get it.”

  “You can’t park right on top of our stakeout site. An angel could see your stupid truck and know we’re coming for them.”

  “Okay,” he says, “but wouldn’t they just think it’s a regular truck and then, like, if we need to follow them or run them down, then we have transportation close at hand?’

  “We’re not running them down, because if they come back here, we shoot them.”

  “But we could, you know, miss.”

  I give him a look. “No. No missing. Park that somewhere else.”

  He frowns again. “Where?”

  He doesn’t know anything about controlling his aura, and it glows with a mesh of emotions. I haven’t known him long enough to read them accurately, but my guess is all those dark shades speak of unease, mistrust, and discomfort.

  “Not here,” I say.

  He opens his mouth to say something, reflects on my expression, and then jumps into the driver’s seat.

  I slip behind a tree and let out a sigh. As soon as I close my eyes, I realize how tired I am; how long it’s been since I’ve slept. Well, at least voluntarily slept. I look over at the burned ruins of the guesthouse and shiver. Rain’s trust of me is a fragile thing, if it even exists at all. What conclusions will he leap to if Raven makes an appearance and I try to help her instead of putting a bullet through her head?

  She won’t show, I tell myself.

  Fifteen minutes later, Rain returns. I let him wander around a while looking for me before I step from behind the tree and startle him again.

  “Gah! Why do you keep doing that?” He shifts the straps of the backpack.

  “Where are the others?” I ask.

  “Bear picked up on another one of the things across town. He and Chain went to check it out. Finch went home. She was…well, she went home.”

  “Things?”

  “We haven’t agreed on a name for them yet. I wanted to call them the…” He finally realizes who he’s talking to. “Never mind. It got voted down anyway.”

  “No, go on. This should be good.” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Soul Suckers,” he admits, “because, you know, they do the thing…” He extends his hand, palm forward and makes a long, wet sucking sound.

  “Uh-huh.” At least he said they.

  “So where’s Gabe and that other guy?” Rain rocks lightly on the balls of his feet.

  “Busy. Come on,” I tell him, all gruff and exasperated. God, I almost sound like Tarren. We walk in silence, and I try to ignore Rain’s aura, the closeness of it.

  “Your face looks good,” Rain says, and his aura jumps. “Not good, I mean better. The bruises are gone.” He throws a quick glance my way. “Do you, like, can you heal really fast?”

  I’d really rather not have the conversation turn in the direction of my freakitude, and I’m not sure what to make of that possible compliment. He probably only meant that my face looked good in comparison to the puffy, discolored mess that Garret made of it.

  “Yeah, I heal fast,” I say shortly.

  Rain must pick up on my discomfort, because he changes the subject. “I wasn’t sure what to bring,” he admits, “so I just packed some snacks, binoculars, and a first aid kit. And a gun, of course, but not, like, the big one you have.”

  A cold wind picks up, blowing my hair behind me and biting at my exposed flesh.

  I glance at his bare hands. “What about gloves?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure I threw gloves in there.” He thinks. “No, actually, I don’t think I did. Go on.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got another big sigh coming.” His mouth quirks up.

  I swallow my sigh and ignore that little smile. “No talking unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Okay. Yeah, stealth.”

  We walk past the mansion and then double back. The house is isolated from its neighbors by a dense cluster of naked trees. The closest house isn’t positioned to give me a clear view of mansion. We’ll need to set up in a tree. I don’t like it. Without any foliage to hide behind, we’ll be highly visible to the sharp eyes of any suspicious angel, but there are no other good options.

  Behind me, Rain flounders through the shin-deep snow. Each step is a cacophony of sound as he kicks through the snow, shifts his jangling backpack, and huffs for air. I grit my teeth and find us a nice, sturdy tree with low branches that I think Rain can handle. The branches are strong, even high up where we’ll set up our position.

  “This one,” I point when Rain pauses next to me.

  “What, like climb?” His eyes make a slow ascent of our tree.

  I whirl around to face him. “Yes. Climb. Stakeout.”

  “What kind is that?” Rain squints and walks toward it. “Is that elm?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “It’s just that…no, without the leaves, I should be fine.”

  “What?”

  He looks at me with a sheepish expression. “Allergies.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nods and shifts his legs. His jeans are soaked up to his knees.

  “What about that one?” I point to a tree further down.

  “No, that’s oak. Oak is even worse than elm.”

  “God.”

  “This one should be fine. It’s mostly the leaves.” He looks up at the tree and nods.

  “Are you, like, one of those people who die if they get stung by a bee?” I ask as I move to the tree.

  “No. I swell up a lot, but I wouldn’t die. Now peanuts. Peanuts are a different story. Peanuts are bad.”

  “Peanuts?” I have to make an effort to keep my mouth from dropping open. “You want to hunt super powered angels, and you’re done in by peanuts?”

  I expect him to bristle, but he says, “It’s not like the Soul Su…angels are going to be throwing peanuts at me or anything. And even if they do, voila.” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a thin tube. “I just inject myself with this, and I’m good as new…well, I’ll be kind of out of it for a while, but I won’t die.”

  I think about all those nights I spent wondering what kind of person he was, all those different fantasies I created of him fearlessly trekking across the globe to find me and avenge the death of his sister.

 

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