The Second Summoning

ELEVEN

THE PHONE WAS RINGING when Nalo got back to her apartment. The strident and slightly superior tone suggested she’d best hurry and pick up, or the next call would happen at a considerably more inconvenient time. So there. Some of the older Keepers had a theory that the entire telephone system had been touched by darkness just before the invention of call waiting and had grown increasingly corrupted ever since.

Kicking off her boots before she hit the carpet, she lifted the receiver and snarled, “I am not interested in changing my long distance service provider, but I will change you into something unpleasant unless you leave me the hell alone.”

“Nalo?”

“Oh. Claire.” Turning on the table light, she dropped onto the sofa. “Well, wasn’t that a waste of a bad mood. What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Claire took a deep breath. “We’ve got trouble.”

“Out there in River City.”

There was cognitive pause, then: “What?”

Swinging her feet up onto the coffee table, Nalo sighed. “Never mind. And while I feel for your trouble, it can’t possibly top what I’ve got going on right here.”

“There’s a demon loose.”

“And then again…” The older Keeper stared down at the black glitter dusting her fingertips. “I closed a couple of holes it opened today.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It seems to be starting small—a little vandalism, a little urban renewal…”

“Urban renewal?”

“It convinced a pimp to walk under a streetcar. Hard on the driver but no loss to the city. There’ll be cascading holes from the witnesses still to track down but, around here at least, it’s been a low-key embodiment of darkness.”

“That’s a relief.”

“And a bit of a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more.”

“You mean the way we can’t track it down because there’s also an angel walking around big as life and twice as shiny?”

“How did you…?”

“Know that? Well, I’d have to say that a piece of darkness walking around without any of us the wiser was the first clue, but I also ran into your sister today.…”

“Why would Diana hide the angel from another Keeper?”

“Why would Diana turn the vacuum cleaner hose into kudzu?” Austin snorted, kneading a pillow into shape. “Why does Diana do anything?”

“Because she’s a pain in the ass?”

“That would be my guess,” the cat agreed.

“Maybe she’s embarrassed about her part in his creation,” Dean offered.

“I don’t think Diana gets embarrassed.”

“Maybe she’s taking him for a test drive.” When both Claire and Dean turned to stare, Austin shrugged. “Well, pardon me for using a euphemism, but didn’t Nalo say that from a block away she thought he was just a guy?”

“Diana wouldn’t…” Claire’s voice trailed off. “Okay, it’s possible,” she admitted after a moment’s thought, “but she says she’s a lesbian.”

“No, she said she was a lesbian back in November. She could easily be a hemocyanin by now.”

“I don’t think that’s…”

“The point is,” Austin interrupted, “is that she’s seventeen and subject to change without notice. And she’s met a young man she can be herself with. Or have you forgotten how seductive that is?”

Claire looked up at Dean, looked past her reflection in his glasses, and sank into the blue of his eyes. “No. I haven’t forgotten.”

He reached out and stroked the back of his hand over her cheek. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“We got into this together.”

“Still…”

“Still need to get hold of Diana,” Austin reminded them acerbically.

Claire reluctantly sat back and picked up her cell phone again.

“Yes, okay, I should have thought of how I’d get home before I went into the closet.” Diana held the phone out from her ear, counted to six, then tried again. “Mom…Mom! I’m not being a smart-ass, I’m agreeing with you. And since there was money for a hotel room, not a bus ticket home, I’m obviously supposed to be here—no harm, no foul. Aren’t you the one who always says, nothing happens to a Keeper by chance?” She winced. “Of course I listen to you. Yeah, okay, I didn’t listen to that. Or that. Mom…Mom. Mother! I have to go now. I’ll stay in touch. ’Bye. No. Now. Good-bye.”

She hung up, leaned back, closed her eyes, and began rhythmically beating her head against the wall.

“You didn’t tell your mother I was with you,” Samuel pointed out from the room’s other bed.

“No, I didn’t.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie, and a lie is the destroyer of trust.”

“Why don’t you just let me deal with that?”

“Banging your head isn’t going to do anything but annoy the person in the next room.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “There isn’t anyone in the next room.”

“But still…”

“Shut up.”

“The phone’s ringing.”

“I’m beginning to think Claire was right about this whole joining the twenty-first century thing.” Scooping up the receiver, she closed her eyes again. “Sorry, Mom, but nothing’s changed in the last thirty seconds.”

“It’s not Mom. It’s me.”

“Oh, joy.” Straightening, she mouthed, It’s Claire, so no background noise, toward Samuel. “How did you get this number?”

“It’s your cell phone number.”

About to explain that she didn’t have her cell phone with her, Diana decided that might be something she’d be better off keeping to herself. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Diana, that angel you’re hiding is blocking my…our, ability to find the demon that came through at the same time, so you’ve got to stop playing around and send it back.”

“It’s not an it, Claire, it’s a him and…” The rest of the sentence suddenly clicked into place. “Did you say demon?”

“Demon?” Samuel scooted to the edge of the bed, eyes wide.

Diana mouthed a stern, “Shut up!” at him so she could hear Claire’s answer.

“Yes, a demon.”

“That’s so not good.”

“Low-fat cheese is not good, Diana. This is bad. I don’t know what you’re up to with that angel, and I don’t want to know…”

“Come to think of it, how do you know?”

“Nalo saw you with him and mentioned it when I called her, but that’s not important. He’s got to go back right now.”

“No.” Diana shook her head—an unseen emphasis from Claire’s point of view but emphasis just the same. “Sending him back would be the same as killing him.”

“You can’t kill him, there’s nothing to kill. He’s a being of light.”

“He’s more than that.”

“How can he be more than that? He’s already a superior being!”

“Fine. He’s less than that, then. He’s a person, Claire.” Who was attempting to eavesdrop on both sides of the conversation. A vigorously applied elbow solved that distinctly unangelic problem. Flashing him a triumphant smile, as he flopped around gasping for breath, she amended, “Okay, maybe he’s not entirely a person, but there’s a person in there.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you are not suggesting that a…a penis and a couple of testicles is what makes a man.” Claire’s tone laid a distinctly weird subtext under the words.

Wishing she had time to translate, Diana sighed impatiently. “No, I’m not suggesting that. But they’ve given him access to emotions and experiences genderless angels can’t have.”

“I’m happy for him, but there’s a demon loose we can’t find until the angel goes—therefore the angel has to go. And if he knew what was at stake, I’m sure he’d agree. Is he there with you right now? Let me talk to him.”

“No.”

Samuel poked her in the leg. “Your sister wants to talk to me?”

She couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.”

“So give me the phone.”

“Not happening.” Scooting out from under his arm, she crossed the room and glared at him from beside the bathroom door, the phone cord stretched taut between them. “One step in this direction and I’ll lock myself in.”

“Diana!”

“Claire!” Attention jerked back to her sister, she rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to yell. It doesn’t matter if he agrees with you or not because I’d still have to kill him, and I won’t do it.”

“For the last time, you wouldn’t be killing him!”

“Would.”

“Stop being so childish. Listen, I can’t get there tonight; the OPP have closed the highway north of Barrie because of the storm. But we’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. This is serious. Send the angel back. Remember your responsibili…”

Diana jabbed at the power off button and pitched the phone across the room. “I do not need her to remind me of my responsibilities,” she growled as Samuel rubbed his ear where the phone had clipped him on its way by. “If they knew you, they wouldn’t be able to kill you either.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Good.”

He sighed and spread his hands. “But there’s a demon in the world, and if returning me to the light would expose the demon…”

“You have to say that,” Diana interrupted. “And knock off the sacrificial pose, I’m not buying it.” She threw herself down on the empty bed.

“Bouncing like that will destroy the mattress and the box spring.”

“Who are you getting your Higher Knowledge from, Martha Stewart?”

“Did you know you can create a lovely mailbox cozy out of a piece of felt and only six hundred dollars’ worth of handwoven French taffeta ribbon?”

“What?” She squirmed around and stared.

Samuel grinned.

The corners of her mouth beginning to curve, Diana grabbed a pillow and heaved it at him. “Jerk!”

He wasn’t sure why he considered that a compliment, but he did. “Diana, you have to send me back. I don’t want to go, but I understand why I have to.”

Squinting in the sudden glow, Diana sighed. Nothing like self-sacrifice to bring out the angel in a guy. If Claire or any other Keeper met him in this state, they’d send him back without even thinking about it. Easy answer—don’t let Claire or any other Keeper meet him.

And how hard could that be? No Summons, no directions—no way to find them.

“Mom? Claire. When you were talking to Diana a few minutes ago, did she happen to mention what hotel she’s staying at? Carlton Hotel, room 312. Thanks.”

“That looks like room 81Z,” Austin pointed out.

“I’d like to see you do better with an eyeliner on a condom wrapper.”

“Well, it’s nice you found something to use them for.”

Dean reached across the cat and picked up the address. “I don’t like this.”

“But they’re the only kind we’ve got.”

“What? No!” Suddenly flustered, he dropped the packet. It bounced off the sniggering cat and rolled under the bed. “I meant, I don’t like going to your mother,” he explained, dropping to his knees and running his hand beneath the edge of the bedspread. “It seems, I don’t know, sneaky.”

“No choice.” Claire folded her legs up out of his way. “First of all, Diana’s confused. Secondly, I’ve dealt with nothing but angel or demon sites since it happened, which is telling me pretty clearly that this is my responsibility. Third…” Reaching out, she grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. “…there’s just something about a man on his knees.”

“Claire…”

“What?”

“Found it!” Straightening, he was about to toss the packet onto her lap when he frowned. “This isn’t ours…”

“Eww.”

Still glowing, although beginning to dim, Samuel lay back on the bed, hands under his head, and stared at the ceiling. “You know what I’d like to experience before I…go back.”

“You’re not going back,” Diana told him absently. She paced the length of the hotel room one more time, examining and discarding another half-dozen bad ideas. The best she’d been able to come up with so far had involved rather more duct tape than she thought she could get her hands on.

“But still…”

“No.”

“Pizza.”

“What?” Either angels came with euphemisms high school didn’t cover—which was highly unlikely—or that wasn’t the experience she’d been expecting.

“And loud music.”

“Why?”

He shrugged as well as he was able, given his position. “I don’t know.”

Well, she hadn’t come up with any better ideas. “I could handle a pizza.”

“I think I just want to eat mine.”

“Oh, please, send me back now.” Falling backward, Samuel groaned and rubbed both hands over a visibly distended belly. “Why did I do that to myself?”

Compelled to answer truthfully, Diana snorted. “I think you were showing off.”

“Showing off what?”

“Beats me.”

“I feel awful.”

She dropped down onto the other bed. “What did you expect after a large with the works and half of my Hawaiian?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything!” A mighty belch delayed part two of the protest. Startled but impressed, he waited until the echoes died down before continuing. “I just thought.…”

“Thinking? As if. You were being a guy.” She squirmed back toward the pillows, propping them against the wall. “And speaking of, you’re starting to smell.”

“My olfactory senses have been working since I got here, thank you very much.”

“Right. Rephrasing—you stink.”

“I stink?”

Eyes rolling, she picked up the TV remote. “Don’t take my word for it. Check the pits.”

He lifted an arm. “I’m not supposed to smell like this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“I’ll show you how the shower works in the morning. After that last incident, I don’t want you approaching new plumbing on your own.”

“I thought I was supposed to urinate against the wall.”

“Uh-huh.” A quick flip through the available channels brought the expected result: there was nothing on.

“What was that?” Samuel heaved himself up onto his elbows. “No, not that. Back. Back. There.”

Diana frowned. “It’s a documentary on lions.”

“What are they doing?”

She adjusted the contrast, but they were still doing it. “They’re having sex.”

“Kewl.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Vaguely proud of himself, although uncertain of why he should be, he belched again.

Byleth hadn’t expected to have so much fun. With a sense of Keepers too close for comfort, she’d planned on a low profile and a road trip in the morning. She’d listened to the praying, she’d eaten the meal, and she hadn’t been able to stop a snort of amusement during the preaching.

So they’d asked her if she had a question.

Surrounded by teenagers pulled from the streets, Byleth stood—hands jammed into the pockets of her black jeans, weight resting on one hip, expression sullen—and asked, “If Lloyd leaves London at 6:00 p.m. on a train heading east going 90 kilometers an hour and Tom leaves Toronto at 6:15 p.m. on a train heading west at 110 kilometers an hour, when will they die in a fiery explosion?”

Eyes dark from lid to lid compelled the truth.

“I don’t know.”

“Why?” She threw the word onto the end of his sentence so quickly momentum kept the ball rolling.

“I never paid attention in math.”

“Why?”

“I was fixated on Miss Miller’s breasts.”

“Why?”

“They were perky. What does this have to do with the text?” Leslie/Deter demanded, fingers white on the edge of the lectern.

“Nothing.” The last thing she wanted to do was test the man’s faith. That was the sort of inane probing the good guys got up to. “Boxers or briefs?”

“Egyptian leather thong.”

Things went downhill from there.

Staring up at the exit sign, Claire listened to Dean breathe and waited for morning. Diana had gone too far this time. She hadn’t been Summoned to the angel, or she’d have mentioned it—Summoned Keepers had the final say on any situation. Diana without a Summons meant Diana should be at home studying or whatever it was teenagers did these days. Piercing something maybe.

Claire hadn’t been Summoned either, but as an active Keeper that only meant that she was already doing what she was supposed to be doing. The angel’s physical form blocked any attempt to find the demon. Therefore, she had to return the angel to the light. QED—essentially, Latin for “so there.”

Diana’s personal opinions on the matter were irrelevant. Even more so than usual.

If functional genitalia defined personhood, then Dean…

She chopped off the thought before it could crawl out any further. Functional genitalia didn’t define love either, and she loved Dean. In a relatively short time he’d become as essential to her life as breathing. She loved being with him, talking, laughing, traveling, cuddling, touching, kissing, caressing; turning her head, she pressed her face against the warm skin of his shoulder. He smelled so good, she wanted to…

Okay, that’s it. Get up. Which wasn’t, perhaps, the best chastisement under the circumstances. Sliding out from under the covers, she grabbed her robe off the other bed.

“Hey! I was asleep on that!”

“Sorry.”

“I should hope so.” Disdaining the jump, Austin stalked over the bedside table and curled up between Dean’s legs muttering, “Angels, demons, impotence; I see no reason why the cat should suffer.”

She woke Dean at five, and they were on the road by six-thirty. They would have been on the road an hour earlier, but when they went to check out, Dean discovered that the sleepy middle-aged woman behind the desk had once lived in St. John’s right next door to a guy he’d played hockey with. The permutations took a while to work through.

Although the plows had been busy all night, it was still snowing lightly and the driving was treacherous. When it became apparent that Dean needed to concentrate on the road…

You’ll find out what Diana’s up to when we get there.

Could we deal with what happens after the angel’s gone, after the angel’s gone, then.

Claire, please shut up.

…she amused herself by watching a pair of frost fairies skating along the hydro lines. Matched double axles, a star lift, and a thrown triple salkow later, she popped in a tape of The Nutcracker.

“This is different.” Austin climbed out from behind the seat and settled in her lap. “You don’t usually like classical music.”

“I know, but somehow it seemed to fit.”

They stopped for breakfast in Huntsville.

“I should get gas,” Dean observed as they pulled out of the diner’s parking lot.

“I got gas,” Austin moaned, head and both front paws draped over the edge of the seat. “I should never have eaten those sausages.”

Claire folded her arms. “What sausages?”

“Did I say sausages? I meant, uh…” The windows rattled as his stomach made a sound between a gurgle and plate tectonics. “All right. I meant sausages; three plump juicy sausages. Slightly overcooked and containing bits of two items I couldn’t identify. The kid in the next booth dropped them on the floor, and I ate them.”

“When?”

“When Dean was explaining to the waitress how running the dishwasher at a higher temperature would keep the cutlery from streaking.”

“Right. Then.”

“Yeah, then. When you were studying the menu with such intense concentration.”

Pulling up in front of the gas pumps, Dean shot her a quick look. “You were embarrassed?” When she nodded, he grinned. “Why? The waitress didn’t mind.”

The waitress didn’t mind because he’d been smiling up at her and the combination of Dean’s smile and accent and shoulders made most women and a goodly number of men between the ages of thirteen and death temporarily lose cognitive functions. He could have told the waitress how to get black heel marks off the floor, tomato sauce stains out of her apron, and greasy thumbprints off the napkin dispenser—all of which he’d done in the past—and she wouldn’t have minded. In the past he’d never noticed the reactions he provoked, but something in the way he grinned as he got out of the truck suggested that had changed.

“So he’s noticing people are noticing.” Austin twisted his head around until he could spear Claire with a pale green gaze. “So what?”

She watched Dean clean the windshield, carefully lifting each wiper blade and setting it just as carefully back in place. “So I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“About him noticing that waitress noticed him?” When she nodded, he snorted. “Don’t worry about it. She made him French toast. You made him a man.”

“But he really liked the French toast.”

“And once you’ve dealt with the angel…”

“And the demon.”

“And the demon—he’ll really like locking me in the bathroom again.”

“You think?”

“No. I’m just talking to hear myself.” Belly sagging, he heaved himself up onto his feet. “Now open the door. There’s a trio of sausages I have to introduce to a snowbank.”

“I’d have thought that angels were more the early to bed, early to rise types.”

Samuel heaved himself up into something close to a sitting position, blinked at the room in general for a few moments, and then reluctantly swung his legs out of bed. “Why?”

“I dunno. The whole sentiment is just so sanctimonious I figured it had to be one of…oh, man!” Diana clapped her hands over her eyes and rocked back in the chair. “Like I needed to see that first thing in the morning. I thought you were going to sleep in your underwear.”

“This is what was under what I was wearing when you said that.”

“Pardon me for not assuming angels would head out commando style.” A quick look elicited a low whistle. “You ought to send Mr. Giorno a nice thank you letter.”

His eyes widened. “It’s doing it again!”

“Well, don’t wave it at me!”

Ears burning, Samuel grabbed a pillow off the bed and held it protectively in front of him. “I’m not doing anything. It just…” He started to gesture, thought better of it, and resecured the pillow. “It just does that,” he finished miserably. “I hate this body.”

“Are angels allowed to hate?”

“Are we allowed to walk around with one of these?”

“You have a point.”

He sank down onto the edge of the bed, pillow on his lap. “Like I need you to remind me.”

Diana could feel the laughter rising. When she tried to hold it back behind her teeth, it escaped out her nose. Any chance she might have had at stopping it after that got blown away by Samuel’s affronted glare. Nothing to do but ride it out. After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes, drew in a shaky breath, and managed a fairly coherent, “Sorry.”

“Sure. Whatever.” He glanced under the pillow. “Anyway, you’ve taken care of the…Would you stop that!”

This time the apology came out in separate syllables as Diana slid off the chair.

Samuel sat and watched her flop about, indignation wrapped around him like a cloak. Finally, he stood and walked into the bathroom, every movement radiating injured dignity. “I’ll figure out the shower on my own,” he informed her reproachfully, reaching back for the door.

Wondering who he could possibly be reminding her of, Diana waved a weak hand in his general direction and fought to pull herself together. With the door closed, with her anatomically correct angel safely behind it, she staggered to her feet and dropped back into the chair. Her stomach hurt. She hadn’t laughed so hard since the time Claire’d coughed half a cheese sandwich through her nose listening to one of Dad’s old George Carlin albums.

Claire.

Suddenly it wasn’t so funny.

Claire was on her way to Toronto believing she had to send an angel back to the light for the greater good. But, logically, emotionally, rationally, and every other ally Diana could think of, destroying a life couldn’t be a part of the greater good.

There had to be another way to find the demon.

“All right…” She stood and walked purposefully over to the big mirror on the wall. Hands flat on the dresser, she leaned forward and glared at her reflection. “Let’s do something radical for a Keeper. Let’s actually think about the situation instead of just reacting to it.”

Her reflection looked skeptical.

“Problem: there’s a demon in the world, a big ol’ walking around piece of darkness. And that’s bad. We can’t find it because there’s also an angel in the world. Which would be good if it wasn’t bad. We can’t find the demon because of the angel. Because the big chunk of light that’s Samuel balances the dark.” She glanced over at the bathroom, then back at the mirror. “Except that the dark hasn’t really been very dark, has it?”

Her reflection frowned in thoughtful agreement.

“You’d think that a demon would cause more havoc, wouldn’t you? All the active Keepers should be scrambling to repair the damage it’s caused, and I should have been Summoned to help. But that hasn’t happened. Why? Why hasn’t the demon caused more havoc?” She was close. She could feel it. “The demon is balancing Samuel. It hasn’t caused more havoc because balancing means it’s an exact opposite of Samuel.”

Following the cord, she dove under the bed for the phone.

In the mirror, her reflection performed a truncated version of Deion Sanders’ touchdown dance.

“All right. The demon’s a fully functional teenage girl. We still can’t find it while your angel is in the world. Yes, that narrows the search but not enough. Diana, I’m sor…” Claire let her head fall back against the seat as she powered down her phone. “She hung up on me.”

“She’s some set on saving that angel,” Dean noted, carefully easing the truck around a blind curve.

“I know.”

“Is there any chance she could be right?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Claire sighed. “I’m a Keeper, it’s my job to be sure.”

Austin stretched out a paw, his claws sinking into Claire’s jeans. “Far be it from me to point this out, but you seem to be forgetting something.”

“I fed you. Although I don’t see why, when you tried to kill yourself with sausages.”

The claws sank a little deeper. “You’re forgetting that Diana is also a Keeper.”

“So?”

“It’s as much her job to be sure as it is yours.”

“All right, fine. So Claire can’t find her, big whoop. That doesn’t mean I can’t.” Euphoria having been shot down, Diana sat cross-legged on the end of the bed, reached into the possibilities, and jabbed seven numbers into the phone. “Local call,” she muttered after the first ring. “I’ll just deal with the demon before Claire clears Barrie, and she can stuff her…”

“Greenstreet Mission. Drop by and hear the word of God.”

Diana opened her mouth and closed it again. Finally she managed a strangled, “The what?”

“The word of God.” The young man on the other end of the phone sighed deeply. “And, no, it isn’t aluminum.”

“Okay.”

“Can we help?”

“No. That is, sorry, I’ve got the wrong number.” Hanging up considerably more gently than she had the last time, Diana stared across the room at her reflection. Her reflection stared back, equally appalled.

Higher Knowledge had told him that showers were both the cubicle or bath in which one stands under a spray of water and the act of bathing in same. It offered no help at getting the water the right temperature, but after a few false starts—and he would not give Diana the pleasure of hearing him scream—he worked it out.

Soaping up gave him the first chance to really examine the body he found himself in. Was he supposed to have hair in so many weird places? Why were his feet so big? If he hadn’t actually been born, which he hadn’t, why did he have a belly button? And nipples—sure they added visual interest to the male chest but what were they actually for?

“These things really ought to come with owner’s manuals,” he sighed, reaching down to turn off the water.

The tiny room didn’t seem significantly drier.

Shaking drips off the ends of his hair, he stepped out of the tub, slipped on the wet tiles, and suddenly found himself airborne.

Seventy-eight percent of all accidents happen in the bathroom, Higher Knowledge informed him as he landed.

“Samuel? Samuel, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Why?”

“I have no idea, but it’s what they always do in the movies when someone knocks themselves out.”

“I’m not out.” He blinked and tried to focus on what looked like three fat pink sausages. “I’m in the bathroom.”

“No, you’re not. I moved you to one of the beds.”

“You carried me?”

“As if. I just, you know, poof.”

“Oh. Poof. Was that the burst of light?”

The sausages disappeared and the edge of the bed dipped as Diana sat down. “No. I think that was when your head hit the edge of the tub.”

“My head…” Movement brought smaller bursts of light. Pain. He remembered pain. On the up side, it didn’t hurt as much as catching himself in the zipper.

“There’s a bump, but angels seem to be pretty tough.”

“Yeah, well, soldiers in the army of the Lord and all that.” He could feel her concern—her pain for his pain—and he kind of thought he ought to do something about it but he just couldn’t seem to muster the enthusiasm.

“Samuel, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but could you get over this a little faster. Checkout time is at noon, and I don’t have enough money for another day—which clearly means we’re not supposed to stay.”

We. He felt a vague nostalgia for the time he’d spent on his own. “Maybe it means you’re supposed to send me back to the light.”

“Maybe you should just stay out of this.”

“Sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means my head hurts.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

The bed rocked as she threw herself off it. Samuel winced. “You want to hear the weird thought I had as I finished showering?”

“I guess.”

“That makes me feel more human.”

“What does?”

“The shower, I guess. It’s the thought I had: That makes me feel more human. And then…” He waved a hand in the general direction of his head. “…this. Pain.”

Diana snorted. “Got news for you, bucko. Pain is the general human condition.”

“Then send me back. I don’t think I want to be human anymore.”

“Well, that’s just too…” Her voice trailed off into thought. They couldn’t find the demon because she was the exact opposite of Samuel. The exact opposite. Throwing herself back onto the bed, she grabbed his shoulders hard enough to dimple the bare skin. “I’m an idiot!”

“Look, I know it’s unangelic of me, but I don’t really feel up to dealing with your lack of self-esteem right now.”

“What?”

“Stop shaking me!”

“Sorry.” She pulled her hands away but continued looming over him. “I’ve just solved the problem. If you don’t want to be in a human body, you don’t have to be.”

“I don’t?” Pushing back against the pillow accomplished nothing much, but he didn’t like the way her eyes were gleaming.

“No, you don’t. I helped make you. My, for lack of a better word, power signature is a part of you. That’s why I can unmake you, but it should also mean I can transform you.”

“Should?”

Ignoring him, she leaped up and spun around, arms outstretched. “You’ll still be you but different. The demon copied this body, so without it, we’ll be able to find her. It’s simple.”

“I won’t be human?”

The spinning stopped. “No.”

“But I’ll still be me.”

“Yes.”

“What will I be?”

“I don’t know. I’ll undo the human seeming and the light will rearrange. Without Lena and her father to interfere, you’ll self-define.” Suddenly serious, she sat down and pushed her hair off her forehead. “I don’t want to push you into this, Samuel, but it would solve all our problems.”

It took him a moment to figure out her expression. When he realized he was looking at hope, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Hope was, after all, one of the primary messages of the light. Maybe this was why he was here. “Would my head hurt?”

“Different body. No reason why it should.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Claire and Dean had opened the way for the light, but her crepe-paper snowflake hanging from the ceiling in the gym had held it together. Standing at the foot of the bed, Diana closed her eyes and reached into the possibilities until she could see Samuel lying in front of her. Slowly and carefully, she detached the parameters Lena and her father had placed around him. She took him back to what he had been in the gym, then wrapped the part that was Samuel in the possibilities and pushed him forward.

In the instant between Diana taking him back and shoving him forward again, Samuel thought he heard voices.

“So he’s off the duty roster?”

“Let’s just say he’s on an extended leave of absence.”

“Let’s just say?” The first voice snorted. “Oh, easy for you, Gabriel. You’re not the one who has to fill his post on the Perdition front.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

“Hey, there’s a war on, you know. Or maybe that’s something you guys in the band have forgotten.”

And then there was only light, and a question.

If he wasn’t an angel, and he wasn’t a human, what was he?

Diana blinked away afterimages and stared down at the towel she’d thrown over Samuel’s crotch. Whatever he’d become fit under it with room to spare. Fingers crossed, she bent down and flicked it back.

The marmalade tabby sat up and looked around.

“You’re a cat.”

“Well, duh. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that angels were like cats only with…” He cocked his head, trying to remember just what it was Ilea had said. “…you know, differences.”

Staggering back, Diana went to sit down on one of the chairs but, at some time during the proceedings, it had self-defined as a plant stand, and she hit the floor instead. It suddenly became painfully clear who Samuel had reminded her of as he’d made his reproachful way to the bathroom.

Austin.