Small Miracles, page 12
Holly pulled back, staring up at Gadriel. Her eyes were dark and wide again. “I could swear you said you were a counsellor,” she mumbled.
“You did,” Sara chimed in helpfully from the floor. “Or… someone said it.”
Gadriel cleared her throat. “I think… the right thing to do is to get you home,” she said finally. She released Holly in order to push up to her feet, and offered out her hand. “Shall we?”
“Oh, wait,” Sara said dimly. “Just give me one second.” She shuffled through the cards on the table, grabbing at one of the jokers and scribbling on it with a pen. She swayed to her feet and offered out the card to Gadriel. “In case you change your mind,” she said, in a slurred but sunny tone.
Gadriel looked down at the card. The joker now had a slightly shaky phone number written across his face.
“I’m afraid I’m entirely too much your type,” Gadriel told Sara sympathetically. “In more ways than one.” But she took the card and tucked it into the pocket of her knitted vest, regardless. “I appreciate the thought.”
“Well,” Sara sighed, “there’s always more karaoke.”
Holly took Gadriel’s hand, leveraging herself unsteadily to her feet. Gadriel caught her as she listed to one side like a spinning top. “There will certainly be more karaoke,” Gadriel agreed.
1 Nonetheless, Gadriel did cheat. She considered cheating to be her prerogative as a fallen angel.
2 +1 Point of Virtue (Holly Harker): A Heartfelt Compliment.
3 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Speaking Ill of the Dead.
4 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Speaking Ill of the Dead.
5 Guardian angels—former or otherwise—give the very best hugs in the universe.
CHAPTER 14
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (HOLLY HARKER): -920.5
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (ELLA HARKER): +217.1
Beatrix Relish was beating her drumsticks against the inside of Holly’s head. At least, that was the dream from which Holly awoke on this sunny Monday morning.
“Oh, god,” Holly mumbled. “I’m going to die.” She groped around for the edge of the knitted throw blanket that currently dangled off of her, pulling it up to her chin.
Something warm shifted beneath her, and she blinked her eyes blearily. The sunlight slatting in through the window of her flat highlighted an unmistakable argyle pattern just next to her cheek.
“Even I’ve got a hangover,” Gadriel groaned. “That takes some doing.”
Holly squinted up at the woman. Gadriel’s short brown hair was stuck up at odd angles, and her eyes were faintly bloodshot. The bewildered look on her narrow face was oddly… adorable. “You’re in my flat,” Holly murmured in surprise. “On my sofa.”
Gadriel rubbed painfully at her forehead. “So I am,” she said hoarsely. Her other arm was still curled around Holly’s waist, somewhere beneath the blanket. Dimly, Holly decided that this was actually a very pleasant way to wake up, apart from the pain in her head and the awkward knot in her neck.
Holly stared at the other woman. Her heart was doing funny things in her chest for some reason. Or, no—perhaps that was just the hangover.
“I think… I need to call in sick,” Holly rasped.1
Gadriel let her head fall back against the sofa pillow. “Good idea,” she mumbled. At first, it appeared she might drift right back to sleep… but then, her eyes opened abruptly to slits, and she said: “Did I remember to bring the biscuits back with us?”
Holly laughed despite herself. She shifted off of Gadriel, rolling off the sofa with an undignified thud. “You’re worried about the biscuits?” she asked incredulously.
“Those were perfectly good biscuits!” Gadriel protested.
“I can always make more,” Holly reassured her. She forced herself up to her knees, searching the small living room for her phone. There were two phones on the table, actually, and she picked up the wrong one at first. A short text message currently showed on the lock screen.
Bookie: I expect several Hail Marys in return.
Holly blinked down at the phone in confusion. “Your bookie wants you to perform some Hail Marys,” she told Gadriel.
Gadriel snatched the phone from her with a groan. “That’s Barachiel,” she said. “And I’m sure he thinks he’s very funny.”
Holly rubbed at her face. “You have your brother in your phone as ‘bookie’?” she asked dimly.
“He may as well be,” Gadriel grumbled. “I’ve never once beaten him at cards.” She tapped blearily at her phone. “I suppose I ought to call the school as well.”
Holly flushed, reaching for the correct phone this time. “I didn’t mean to keep you out so late,” she said in a guilty voice.
“Do I look like I’m complaining?” Gadriel asked. She blinked against the sunlight that still trickled in from the window. “Honestly, I needed last night. This job has been rough.” She brought the phone up to her ear, curling around it wearily. “Hello?” she rasped. “Yes, this is Gadriel Sweet. I’m afraid I’m feeling poorly. You’ll have to go on without me. Of course, thank you.”
Gadriel hit the ‘end call’ button, tossing the phone aside. She lurched up to a seated position with a groan of effort and ran her fingers back through her tousled hair, before fixing Holly with a haggard gaze.
“Incidentally,” said Gadriel, “how do you feel about breakfast?”
Two cups of tea and one ibuprofen later, Holly was feeling at least marginally human once again. She and Gadriel had staggered into a little café in search of breakfast. They were both still rumpled, in the same clothing they’d worn the evening before—but Holly knew from personal experience that no one there was interested enough or even awake enough to judge them for it.
They sheltered at a corner table, avoiding both windows and sunlight, with a surprising air of camaraderie. This, Holly thought, must be what it felt like to run with the wrong crowd. Or perhaps it was the slightly-less-right crowd; neither of them looked like hooligans, precisely, no matter how much they could have both used a shower.
“You weren’t the sort to cut class, were you?” Gadriel asked Holly conversationally, as she downed another full cup of tea. To call it ‘tea’ was probably being generous—it might have been more sugar than liquid at this point. The rest of their full English breakfast spread dotted the table, half picked over.
“I’ve never been very good at breaking rules,” Holly admitted. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m much like Barry that way.”
Gadriel leaned back in her chair, assessing Holly critically. “I don’t think it’s the same,” she said finally. “I don’t think you believe in the rules—I think you’re scared to break them. You don’t like going off-script.”
Holly blinked. “That’s… probably an accurate assessment,” she acknowledged sheepishly. “I lived the loud and unexpected life with Mum, back when I didn’t have a choice. Now that I have some control over things, I just prefer everything in its place. I like my life quiet and unexciting.”
Gadriel pointed at her with a fork. “That I can relate to,” she said. “I enjoy causing a ruckus now and then, but I like it on my terms. It’s far less entertaining when someone else comes along and upends your life without asking.” She reached out to spear a breakfast sausage emphatically. “I don’t think you’d be happy raising Hell. But you could do with breaking little rules every once in a while. I mean—this is nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of lazy breakfast, instead of begging passers-by to spin a bloody wheel?”
Holly nodded reluctantly. “I have to admit, you’re far better company than the Wheel of Misery,” she said. She avoided Gadriel’s eyes as she spoke, feeling unaccountably shy. Her own fork paused halfway to her eggs though, and she looked up at Gadriel, wide-eyed. “Did we… leave the wheel behind at karaoke?” she whispered.2
Gadriel stared back at her. Holly couldn’t help it; an incredulous laugh trickled out, escaping her control. Soon, they were both laughing so hard that Holly had to wipe tears from her eyes.
“More tea?” The waitress paused next to them, hovering with a carafe. Her gaze flickered warily between the two of them.
“Yes please,” Holly wheezed breathlessly.
“More sugar, too,” Gadriel managed. “I think the table’s fresh out.”
They worked to recollect themselves as the woman swept off again. Occasionally, Holly lost control of another helpless giggle while Gadriel gave her a warning look, trying desperately to control her own response.
Just as Holly began to think that they’d conquered the mood, however, Gadriel looked at her straight-faced and said: “Do I still get a free belt?”
It was another five minutes before they could speak again. The other people in the café were starting to edge their chairs subtly away from their table.
“I already want to do this again,” Holly admitted guiltily. “I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.”
“Qui vivra verra,” Gadriel said into her tea. “You won’t know until you get there.” A thought seemed to strike her then, and she squinted at Holly. “Speaking of which—I’m dying to know. What’s with all of the French?”
Holly blinked. “Oh, it’s… it’s habit,” she said. “I’ve been studying French for years. I was nearly fluent when the accident happened, and I don’t want to lose that. As soon as Ella’s gone off to university, I should be able to get back to…” She trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Back to?” Gadriel prompted.
Holly looked down into her tea. “I’m supposed to be in France right now,” she said. “I had a patisserie course lined up at Ecole Lenôtre. I had to put it off, obviously.”
Gadriel frowned. “Obviously?” she asked.
Holly knit her brow. “Ella just lost her mum,” she mumbled. “I’m not going to uproot her from her home and her language and all of her friends as well. Besides, it’s an intense program. I doubt I’d be able to look after her properly while I finish it.” She sighed. “It’s only five years until Ella finishes school. I can survive until then.”
Gadriel held up a hand. “Please, let’s rewind a bit,” she said. “You’re telling me you threw away all of your hopes and dreams in order to work at Castle Clothing and Déjà Brew while you raise a niece you don’t even know?”
Holly threw up her hands. “What else was I supposed to do?” she said. “If I don’t raise her, Gabe, she’ll go to my mum. How could I possibly put someone else in that position? I’d be—”
“—a hypocrite, yes!” Gadriel finished for her. “Most people are hypocrites, Holly. That you aren’t one is… frankly bizarre.” She shook her head. “You called yourself a monster last night. I can’t parse it. Monsters don’t get up every day and do what you do.” She levelled a flat look at Holly. “Let me ask you something: do you love Ella?”
Holly’s face fell. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I think so, sometimes. But I haven’t known her for very long. Can you love someone that quickly—even family?”
Gadriel nudged the bacon closer to Holly. You should take the last piece, said a voice in Holly’s mind. She reached out automatically for the plate, popping the end of the bacon strip into her mouth.3
“From where I’m sitting,” Gadriel continued matter-of-factly, “you love your niece very much. Believe me, plenty of people claim they love someone because they get the warm fuzzies around them—but love is something you do. Quite often, it’s something you choose. Why, I used to decide I was going to love someone before I ever met them.”4
Holly tilted her head. “Before you ever met them?” she asked in puzzlement.
Gadriel worked her mouth soundlessly, suddenly stymied. “Er… as a counsellor,” she said finally. “You know, you have to… love the people you’re helping, in a way.”
Holly smiled at Gadriel. The idea warmed at her heart, wriggling its way into a special place there. “I like that,” she said softly. “That’s a nice way to put it.” She leaned her chin into her palm, studying the other woman intently. The beautiful sentiment felt uncharacteristic—but the more that Holly thought about it, the more she realised that it only felt that way because Gadriel preferred so often to act like a rebel with a cause.
“Do you still fall in love with people all of the time?” Holly asked Gadriel gently.
The question tugged Gadriel’s lips down into a frown. “I don’t,” she said. “I’ve changed a lot since then. I mostly have… short-term clients now. Far less hassle, on the whole.”
Holly nodded seriously. “Everybody needs a change of pace sometimes,” she said. She studied the table in front of her, choosing her next words carefully. “You… really don’t think badly of me? Even after everything I said last night?”
“Of course I don’t,” said Gadriel. “Or, well… all right,” she admitted. “I’m hardly the best person to ask for the average person’s opinion.” She rubbed at her jaw. “The thing is, the dead don’t need anything from you—not love, not forgiveness. Those are things you offer because you need them. The main person who needs anything from you is Ella, and all she really needs is for you to show up every day—”
Gadriel stopped abruptly. A funny sort of expression crossed her features.
Holly raised her eyebrows. “Is everything all right?” she asked carefully.
Gadriel stood up quickly, clearing her throat. “Er,” she said. “As it turns out—I have an appointment I forgot. So sorry.”
Before Holly could manage a response, the other woman had already collected her things and bolted out the door.
1 +2 Points of Sin (Holly Harker): Skiving Off Work.
2 +5 Points of Sin (Holly Harker): Carelessly Losing Company Property.
3 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Taking the Last Piece.
4 It is, in fact, part of a guardian angel’s duty to love the person they protect. It is commonly understood to be one of the most heartbreaking requirements of the job.
CHAPTER 15
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (HOLLY HARKER): -912.5
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (ELLA HARKER): +217.1
It is very difficult to fly in a straight line while one is still hungover. As such, while Gadriel had certain advantages over the underground system, she still arrived at the school in a less than timely manner. Though she hadn’t dared to check the hour on her way, she was absolutely certain that she’d missed most of first period by the time she finally arrived.
“Drat!” Gadriel muttered angrily to herself, as she rummaged through the fridge for Ms Schmidt’s lunch. “Rookie move. I had the kid all stitched up, too. This is definitely going to derail things.”
The chocolate bar was missing from Ms Schmidt’s lunch today. This stymied Gadriel for all of a few seconds, before she turned to rummage through the freezer.
“Aha!” she said, as she found the chocolate bar hidden behind an old tub of ice-cream. “An excellent attempt, Ms Schmidt. But you can’t con a con woman.” She snatched the chocolate bar from its hiding place and stowed it in her pocket. She then hurried for the stairs, leaping them two and three at a time.1
The bell rang just as she reached the second floor. Teenagers spilled out of their classrooms in a rush of chatter, hurrying for their next period. Gadriel cursed several times beneath her breath, rubbing at her face.
“Mr Sweet?” Beatrix’s voice carried over the din. Gadriel scanned the students quickly and caught sight of both Beatrix and Ella standing just outside of room 201. To Gadriel’s surprise, neither of them looked terribly upset—in fact, they were both wearing broad smiles.
“I am… so sorry,” Gadriel managed, as she cut across the crowd towards them. “Called in sick. Nearly forgot I had an appointment on the books.”
Ella frowned at Gadriel. “Wait,” she said. “Were you always a woman?”
Gadriel shook her head. “Not at all,” she wheezed, still gasping for breath. “Woke up that way today.”
Ella crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “You got sick and turned into a woman?” she said sceptically.
“No, goodness!” Gadriel said breathlessly, resting her hands on her thighs. “I decided to be a woman today on my own. I called in sick for other reasons.”
Ella considered this for another second… and finally shrugged. “Well. You’re not contagious, I hope, whatever it is.”
“Not at all,” Gadriel said distractedly, as her breathing finally steadied. “I was up all night with your aunt at karaoke. Oh—we played poker as well! It was incredibly irresponsible, and I’m very proud of her for it.”
Ella goggled at her. “With my aunt?” she repeated. “You didn’t tell me you knew Aunt Holly!”
Gadriel waved a hand impatiently. “I met her last week,” she said. “She sold me a blazer. That’s not important at the moment, though. I didn’t get you out of history, I’m afraid, but I do have some chocolate—”
“It’s fine!” Beatrix said cheerfully. “We both aced the test today!”
Gadriel stopped talking to eye the two girls. “You both did?” she asked.
Beatrix shot Gadriel a smug, self-satisfied look. “Me and Ella and Millie all did very well on our history test today,” she said. “We won’t know for sure until the papers are back, but I have a really good feeling about it this time.”2
“Not that you had anything to do with it, of course,” Ella said archly, raising an eyebrow at Gadriel.
Gadriel let out an exasperated sound. “Beatrix!” she said, turning on the twelve-year-old girl. “What did we say about snitching?”
Beatrix coloured. “Oh,” she said sheepishly, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Well, I only told Ella. I thought that didn’t count.”
Gadriel ran her hands back through her wind-tousled hair. “And to think, I flew all the way here,” she groused. “With a hangover, no less.”
“You did,” Sara chimed in helpfully from the floor. “Or… someone said it.”
Gadriel cleared her throat. “I think… the right thing to do is to get you home,” she said finally. She released Holly in order to push up to her feet, and offered out her hand. “Shall we?”
“Oh, wait,” Sara said dimly. “Just give me one second.” She shuffled through the cards on the table, grabbing at one of the jokers and scribbling on it with a pen. She swayed to her feet and offered out the card to Gadriel. “In case you change your mind,” she said, in a slurred but sunny tone.
Gadriel looked down at the card. The joker now had a slightly shaky phone number written across his face.
“I’m afraid I’m entirely too much your type,” Gadriel told Sara sympathetically. “In more ways than one.” But she took the card and tucked it into the pocket of her knitted vest, regardless. “I appreciate the thought.”
“Well,” Sara sighed, “there’s always more karaoke.”
Holly took Gadriel’s hand, leveraging herself unsteadily to her feet. Gadriel caught her as she listed to one side like a spinning top. “There will certainly be more karaoke,” Gadriel agreed.
1 Nonetheless, Gadriel did cheat. She considered cheating to be her prerogative as a fallen angel.
2 +1 Point of Virtue (Holly Harker): A Heartfelt Compliment.
3 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Speaking Ill of the Dead.
4 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Speaking Ill of the Dead.
5 Guardian angels—former or otherwise—give the very best hugs in the universe.
CHAPTER 14
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (HOLLY HARKER): -920.5
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (ELLA HARKER): +217.1
Beatrix Relish was beating her drumsticks against the inside of Holly’s head. At least, that was the dream from which Holly awoke on this sunny Monday morning.
“Oh, god,” Holly mumbled. “I’m going to die.” She groped around for the edge of the knitted throw blanket that currently dangled off of her, pulling it up to her chin.
Something warm shifted beneath her, and she blinked her eyes blearily. The sunlight slatting in through the window of her flat highlighted an unmistakable argyle pattern just next to her cheek.
“Even I’ve got a hangover,” Gadriel groaned. “That takes some doing.”
Holly squinted up at the woman. Gadriel’s short brown hair was stuck up at odd angles, and her eyes were faintly bloodshot. The bewildered look on her narrow face was oddly… adorable. “You’re in my flat,” Holly murmured in surprise. “On my sofa.”
Gadriel rubbed painfully at her forehead. “So I am,” she said hoarsely. Her other arm was still curled around Holly’s waist, somewhere beneath the blanket. Dimly, Holly decided that this was actually a very pleasant way to wake up, apart from the pain in her head and the awkward knot in her neck.
Holly stared at the other woman. Her heart was doing funny things in her chest for some reason. Or, no—perhaps that was just the hangover.
“I think… I need to call in sick,” Holly rasped.1
Gadriel let her head fall back against the sofa pillow. “Good idea,” she mumbled. At first, it appeared she might drift right back to sleep… but then, her eyes opened abruptly to slits, and she said: “Did I remember to bring the biscuits back with us?”
Holly laughed despite herself. She shifted off of Gadriel, rolling off the sofa with an undignified thud. “You’re worried about the biscuits?” she asked incredulously.
“Those were perfectly good biscuits!” Gadriel protested.
“I can always make more,” Holly reassured her. She forced herself up to her knees, searching the small living room for her phone. There were two phones on the table, actually, and she picked up the wrong one at first. A short text message currently showed on the lock screen.
Bookie: I expect several Hail Marys in return.
Holly blinked down at the phone in confusion. “Your bookie wants you to perform some Hail Marys,” she told Gadriel.
Gadriel snatched the phone from her with a groan. “That’s Barachiel,” she said. “And I’m sure he thinks he’s very funny.”
Holly rubbed at her face. “You have your brother in your phone as ‘bookie’?” she asked dimly.
“He may as well be,” Gadriel grumbled. “I’ve never once beaten him at cards.” She tapped blearily at her phone. “I suppose I ought to call the school as well.”
Holly flushed, reaching for the correct phone this time. “I didn’t mean to keep you out so late,” she said in a guilty voice.
“Do I look like I’m complaining?” Gadriel asked. She blinked against the sunlight that still trickled in from the window. “Honestly, I needed last night. This job has been rough.” She brought the phone up to her ear, curling around it wearily. “Hello?” she rasped. “Yes, this is Gadriel Sweet. I’m afraid I’m feeling poorly. You’ll have to go on without me. Of course, thank you.”
Gadriel hit the ‘end call’ button, tossing the phone aside. She lurched up to a seated position with a groan of effort and ran her fingers back through her tousled hair, before fixing Holly with a haggard gaze.
“Incidentally,” said Gadriel, “how do you feel about breakfast?”
Two cups of tea and one ibuprofen later, Holly was feeling at least marginally human once again. She and Gadriel had staggered into a little café in search of breakfast. They were both still rumpled, in the same clothing they’d worn the evening before—but Holly knew from personal experience that no one there was interested enough or even awake enough to judge them for it.
They sheltered at a corner table, avoiding both windows and sunlight, with a surprising air of camaraderie. This, Holly thought, must be what it felt like to run with the wrong crowd. Or perhaps it was the slightly-less-right crowd; neither of them looked like hooligans, precisely, no matter how much they could have both used a shower.
“You weren’t the sort to cut class, were you?” Gadriel asked Holly conversationally, as she downed another full cup of tea. To call it ‘tea’ was probably being generous—it might have been more sugar than liquid at this point. The rest of their full English breakfast spread dotted the table, half picked over.
“I’ve never been very good at breaking rules,” Holly admitted. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m much like Barry that way.”
Gadriel leaned back in her chair, assessing Holly critically. “I don’t think it’s the same,” she said finally. “I don’t think you believe in the rules—I think you’re scared to break them. You don’t like going off-script.”
Holly blinked. “That’s… probably an accurate assessment,” she acknowledged sheepishly. “I lived the loud and unexpected life with Mum, back when I didn’t have a choice. Now that I have some control over things, I just prefer everything in its place. I like my life quiet and unexciting.”
Gadriel pointed at her with a fork. “That I can relate to,” she said. “I enjoy causing a ruckus now and then, but I like it on my terms. It’s far less entertaining when someone else comes along and upends your life without asking.” She reached out to spear a breakfast sausage emphatically. “I don’t think you’d be happy raising Hell. But you could do with breaking little rules every once in a while. I mean—this is nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of lazy breakfast, instead of begging passers-by to spin a bloody wheel?”
Holly nodded reluctantly. “I have to admit, you’re far better company than the Wheel of Misery,” she said. She avoided Gadriel’s eyes as she spoke, feeling unaccountably shy. Her own fork paused halfway to her eggs though, and she looked up at Gadriel, wide-eyed. “Did we… leave the wheel behind at karaoke?” she whispered.2
Gadriel stared back at her. Holly couldn’t help it; an incredulous laugh trickled out, escaping her control. Soon, they were both laughing so hard that Holly had to wipe tears from her eyes.
“More tea?” The waitress paused next to them, hovering with a carafe. Her gaze flickered warily between the two of them.
“Yes please,” Holly wheezed breathlessly.
“More sugar, too,” Gadriel managed. “I think the table’s fresh out.”
They worked to recollect themselves as the woman swept off again. Occasionally, Holly lost control of another helpless giggle while Gadriel gave her a warning look, trying desperately to control her own response.
Just as Holly began to think that they’d conquered the mood, however, Gadriel looked at her straight-faced and said: “Do I still get a free belt?”
It was another five minutes before they could speak again. The other people in the café were starting to edge their chairs subtly away from their table.
“I already want to do this again,” Holly admitted guiltily. “I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.”
“Qui vivra verra,” Gadriel said into her tea. “You won’t know until you get there.” A thought seemed to strike her then, and she squinted at Holly. “Speaking of which—I’m dying to know. What’s with all of the French?”
Holly blinked. “Oh, it’s… it’s habit,” she said. “I’ve been studying French for years. I was nearly fluent when the accident happened, and I don’t want to lose that. As soon as Ella’s gone off to university, I should be able to get back to…” She trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Back to?” Gadriel prompted.
Holly looked down into her tea. “I’m supposed to be in France right now,” she said. “I had a patisserie course lined up at Ecole Lenôtre. I had to put it off, obviously.”
Gadriel frowned. “Obviously?” she asked.
Holly knit her brow. “Ella just lost her mum,” she mumbled. “I’m not going to uproot her from her home and her language and all of her friends as well. Besides, it’s an intense program. I doubt I’d be able to look after her properly while I finish it.” She sighed. “It’s only five years until Ella finishes school. I can survive until then.”
Gadriel held up a hand. “Please, let’s rewind a bit,” she said. “You’re telling me you threw away all of your hopes and dreams in order to work at Castle Clothing and Déjà Brew while you raise a niece you don’t even know?”
Holly threw up her hands. “What else was I supposed to do?” she said. “If I don’t raise her, Gabe, she’ll go to my mum. How could I possibly put someone else in that position? I’d be—”
“—a hypocrite, yes!” Gadriel finished for her. “Most people are hypocrites, Holly. That you aren’t one is… frankly bizarre.” She shook her head. “You called yourself a monster last night. I can’t parse it. Monsters don’t get up every day and do what you do.” She levelled a flat look at Holly. “Let me ask you something: do you love Ella?”
Holly’s face fell. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I think so, sometimes. But I haven’t known her for very long. Can you love someone that quickly—even family?”
Gadriel nudged the bacon closer to Holly. You should take the last piece, said a voice in Holly’s mind. She reached out automatically for the plate, popping the end of the bacon strip into her mouth.3
“From where I’m sitting,” Gadriel continued matter-of-factly, “you love your niece very much. Believe me, plenty of people claim they love someone because they get the warm fuzzies around them—but love is something you do. Quite often, it’s something you choose. Why, I used to decide I was going to love someone before I ever met them.”4
Holly tilted her head. “Before you ever met them?” she asked in puzzlement.
Gadriel worked her mouth soundlessly, suddenly stymied. “Er… as a counsellor,” she said finally. “You know, you have to… love the people you’re helping, in a way.”
Holly smiled at Gadriel. The idea warmed at her heart, wriggling its way into a special place there. “I like that,” she said softly. “That’s a nice way to put it.” She leaned her chin into her palm, studying the other woman intently. The beautiful sentiment felt uncharacteristic—but the more that Holly thought about it, the more she realised that it only felt that way because Gadriel preferred so often to act like a rebel with a cause.
“Do you still fall in love with people all of the time?” Holly asked Gadriel gently.
The question tugged Gadriel’s lips down into a frown. “I don’t,” she said. “I’ve changed a lot since then. I mostly have… short-term clients now. Far less hassle, on the whole.”
Holly nodded seriously. “Everybody needs a change of pace sometimes,” she said. She studied the table in front of her, choosing her next words carefully. “You… really don’t think badly of me? Even after everything I said last night?”
“Of course I don’t,” said Gadriel. “Or, well… all right,” she admitted. “I’m hardly the best person to ask for the average person’s opinion.” She rubbed at her jaw. “The thing is, the dead don’t need anything from you—not love, not forgiveness. Those are things you offer because you need them. The main person who needs anything from you is Ella, and all she really needs is for you to show up every day—”
Gadriel stopped abruptly. A funny sort of expression crossed her features.
Holly raised her eyebrows. “Is everything all right?” she asked carefully.
Gadriel stood up quickly, clearing her throat. “Er,” she said. “As it turns out—I have an appointment I forgot. So sorry.”
Before Holly could manage a response, the other woman had already collected her things and bolted out the door.
1 +2 Points of Sin (Holly Harker): Skiving Off Work.
2 +5 Points of Sin (Holly Harker): Carelessly Losing Company Property.
3 +1 Point of Sin (Holly Harker): Taking the Last Piece.
4 It is, in fact, part of a guardian angel’s duty to love the person they protect. It is commonly understood to be one of the most heartbreaking requirements of the job.
CHAPTER 15
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (HOLLY HARKER): -912.5
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (ELLA HARKER): +217.1
It is very difficult to fly in a straight line while one is still hungover. As such, while Gadriel had certain advantages over the underground system, she still arrived at the school in a less than timely manner. Though she hadn’t dared to check the hour on her way, she was absolutely certain that she’d missed most of first period by the time she finally arrived.
“Drat!” Gadriel muttered angrily to herself, as she rummaged through the fridge for Ms Schmidt’s lunch. “Rookie move. I had the kid all stitched up, too. This is definitely going to derail things.”
The chocolate bar was missing from Ms Schmidt’s lunch today. This stymied Gadriel for all of a few seconds, before she turned to rummage through the freezer.
“Aha!” she said, as she found the chocolate bar hidden behind an old tub of ice-cream. “An excellent attempt, Ms Schmidt. But you can’t con a con woman.” She snatched the chocolate bar from its hiding place and stowed it in her pocket. She then hurried for the stairs, leaping them two and three at a time.1
The bell rang just as she reached the second floor. Teenagers spilled out of their classrooms in a rush of chatter, hurrying for their next period. Gadriel cursed several times beneath her breath, rubbing at her face.
“Mr Sweet?” Beatrix’s voice carried over the din. Gadriel scanned the students quickly and caught sight of both Beatrix and Ella standing just outside of room 201. To Gadriel’s surprise, neither of them looked terribly upset—in fact, they were both wearing broad smiles.
“I am… so sorry,” Gadriel managed, as she cut across the crowd towards them. “Called in sick. Nearly forgot I had an appointment on the books.”
Ella frowned at Gadriel. “Wait,” she said. “Were you always a woman?”
Gadriel shook her head. “Not at all,” she wheezed, still gasping for breath. “Woke up that way today.”
Ella crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “You got sick and turned into a woman?” she said sceptically.
“No, goodness!” Gadriel said breathlessly, resting her hands on her thighs. “I decided to be a woman today on my own. I called in sick for other reasons.”
Ella considered this for another second… and finally shrugged. “Well. You’re not contagious, I hope, whatever it is.”
“Not at all,” Gadriel said distractedly, as her breathing finally steadied. “I was up all night with your aunt at karaoke. Oh—we played poker as well! It was incredibly irresponsible, and I’m very proud of her for it.”
Ella goggled at her. “With my aunt?” she repeated. “You didn’t tell me you knew Aunt Holly!”
Gadriel waved a hand impatiently. “I met her last week,” she said. “She sold me a blazer. That’s not important at the moment, though. I didn’t get you out of history, I’m afraid, but I do have some chocolate—”
“It’s fine!” Beatrix said cheerfully. “We both aced the test today!”
Gadriel stopped talking to eye the two girls. “You both did?” she asked.
Beatrix shot Gadriel a smug, self-satisfied look. “Me and Ella and Millie all did very well on our history test today,” she said. “We won’t know for sure until the papers are back, but I have a really good feeling about it this time.”2
“Not that you had anything to do with it, of course,” Ella said archly, raising an eyebrow at Gadriel.
Gadriel let out an exasperated sound. “Beatrix!” she said, turning on the twelve-year-old girl. “What did we say about snitching?”
Beatrix coloured. “Oh,” she said sheepishly, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Well, I only told Ella. I thought that didn’t count.”
Gadriel ran her hands back through her wind-tousled hair. “And to think, I flew all the way here,” she groused. “With a hangover, no less.”
