by Мишель Роуэн
Her frown deepened as she searched her brain for the information she knew she possessed and then shuffled forward a few more pages in her notebook. “Um . . . not all angels need them.
Only the ones that travel a lot.”
“Travel where?”
“Wherever they’re needed. Heaven’s a big place. Bigger than you could ever imagine.”
“Cool.”
“So do you think you can help me?”
“What?” Seraphina looked distracted. And a bit bored.
“You know, I’m an angel and I want to go back to Heaven,” Val was feeling a bit frustrated talking to the little girl. “Can you help me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Don’t wanna.”
Val stood up. “You don’t wanna?”
“Nope.”
She glanced over at the door. “Well, that’s not very nice, is it? Maybe I can get Becky to say something to you to make you behave a little more politely. How long does it take to get a can of 7Up, anyhow?”
“It’s not over.”
“Darn right it’s not.” Val continued to stare at the closed door.
Seraphina suddenly grabbed her wrist and she turned back around. “The time has come. The change must be made.”
The girl’s eyes were fully white again and she stared at Val with a blank expression on her face. Her iron grip was strong enough to bruise.
“Garry?” Val grimaced from the pain. “Is that you again?”
“There is one like you to help ease your way. And another who is not like you, though you may believe differently.”
“Garry? What are you talking about?”
“Fragments of light once fell to the ground like snow. You must watch and protect it. Beware of those who prefer the darkness, though one is drawn to the light. The balance must be made right.”
“Garry? Why are you rhyming?”
Seraphina blinked, her eyes remaining entirely white, then sighed heavily. “No. I’m not
Garry. Are you listening, or what?”
“Sorry. Please continue. What were you saying about snowflakes?”
“Fragments of light as snow. It’s a metaphor. Maybe you should be writing this down.”
“Good idea.” Val produced a pen and turned to a blank page in her notebook. “Please continue.”
Whomever Seraphina was now channeling nodded. “Follow what is stolen to find the answers you seek. Trust your heart, Valerie Grace.”
“Who are you?”
“That isn’t important right now. What is important is that you trust your heart.”
Val blinked and stopped writing for a moment to look up at the girl. “If I trust my heart can I come back to Heaven?”
Seraphina sighed again but didn’t answer the question. “To recap: making changes, another like you, darkness drawn to the light, follow what is stolen, maintain the balance, yada yada.
Got it?”
“I think so.” Valerie’s wrist really hurt now from being clutched by the incredibly strong possessed child. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s about it. I can’t tell you everything, you know. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
She blinked and finally let go of Val’s arm, just as the door opened behind them.
“Sorry it took me so long.” Becky had a rosy flush to her cheeks and was breathing heavily. “I had to go all the way to the downstairs fridge to get this.”
Seraphina, her eyes back to normal, clapped her hands happily and took the new can of pop, this time the bendy straw was blue. Val frowned at her. The little girl didn’t seem to remember what just happened. Very strange.
What had just happened? Who had she just spoken to? And what on earth were they babbling about?
She wasn’t exactly sure. But all of this dealing with psychics and angels was making her thirsty.
Chapter Four
Val sat, shivering like a nervous Chihuahua, on a park bench by the edge of the Falls and stared at the lightly falling snow as if it would start talking to her any minute.
She was supposed to guard snow?
Metaphor. Pieces of light as snow.
What was that supposed to mean, anyhow? It was just snow.
And what had Seraphina said about darkness drawn to the light? Stupid.
Everything is stupid, she thought. Including myself. Especially for thinking she could find an easy answer to all of her problems. Served her right for watching so much television in the last two months. On TV, everyone’s problems got wrapped up in the course of an episode, and if it was going to take two episodes, there’d be a “to be continued” tag, letting the audience know to hang in there.
Her “to be continued” had been put on indefinate hiatus. No happy ending in sight. No promises. Not even a comforting maybe.
And Garry was supposed to be her friend? Some friend.
Even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t blame him for her troubles. She’d been kicked out for the reason he’d given her. Pride. Okay. Didn’t make sense to her, but at least she had a reason.
That still didn’t mean she was giving up.
It didn’t mean she was making peace with being a human. No way.
But for the time being she was going to sit on her bench, slowly turning into a blond Popsicle, and feel very sorry for her sad self. Maybe she could be decorated like a Christmas tree. She could become another one of Niagara’s tourist attractions. Sounded like a plan.
A couple walked past her with bright shiny smiles on their faces, colorful scarves at their necks. They gave off a “we’re totally in love” vibe. If Val had any extra money she would have bet all of it that underneath their clasped together gloved hands were wedding rings bright and shiny enough to match their smiles. Newlyweds, probably. Isn’t that just the most adorable thing? she thought.
Blah.
“Hey gorgeous,” a familiar voice said to her left.
She forced herself to look up. “Hi, Reggie.”
He crossed his arms. “Yeah, you look really happy.”
“That’s funny, because I don’t feel really happy.”
“Well, then it’s good that I was being sarcastic.” He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re lucky you’re naturally hot, because you look like hell today.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.”
“Why are you sitting here all alone?”
She nodded at the Falls. “I’m considering throwing myself over.”
He laughed. “I think there’s a law that says you can only do that once a month. You already had your chance.”
She scowled at him. “That was to help somebody.”
“You mean the guy you pushed into the water and almost killed? The one we had to convince not to press charges against you?”
“He was trying to kill himself.”
“He was a tourist taking a picture. Or didn’t you notice the camera? And the wife? And the kids?”
“I was just trying to help.”
He smiled. “I know, and that’s what I adore about you. You’re always helping people. But you got to realize that some people just don’t want any help. Even if it’s from a hot blonde.
Realize that and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble.”
She frowned. A change of subject would be a good idea.
“Where’s Claire?” she asked. “Aren’t you two joined at the hip?”
Reggie seemed to back away a bit at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. “Oh, Claire? My
Claire? She’s . . . she’s around.”
“I’m sure she is.”
His eyes got big. “You’ve seen her? Where?” He looked around nervously.
Val stared at him. “Oh no. What did you do this week to get her mad?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly so she could see a puff of frozen air appear as if he were smoking a cigarette. For a second it reminded her of Nathaniel.
“It was a tot
al misunderstanding,” Reggie said.
“What was?”
“She thinks I cheated on her.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Why would she think something like that?”
He rubbed the side of his face, a nervous gesture, and looked away.
“You didn’t,” Val scolded. “You cheated on Claire? How could you?”
“I didn’t cheat. Not technically, anyhow.”
“Not technically? What does that mean?”
“I was at the casino.” He gestured with his head toward the direction of Casino Niagara. “I’d had a few beers. I won a hand of blackjack and I sort of gave the dealer a big kiss. Tongues may have been involved.”
“You kissed a blackjack dealer.”
He looked sheepish. “Got her number, too. But I’ve already thrown it away. I never would have called her. It was just one of those things.”
Val took a deep breath. “Well, that sounds fairly harmless. Just a mistake.”
“Harmless if Claire’s friend hadn’t been walking past. Told her everything. Embellished some stuff. Now she wants to kill me.”
She shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have kissed the dealer.”
“But she was so hot.”
“You’re not helping matters.”
“I’m a rat. I’ll admit it. When I’ve got a good thing, I’ll always do something to screw it up.
And Claire is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You need to tell her that. Apologize. Take her out for dinner. Fall to the floor and beg her forgiveness.”
Reggie shook his head vigorously. “No way. I’m not seeing her until she’s calmed down.
She’s a witch.”
Val rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who played kissy-face with a blackjack dealer and she’s the witch? Sure, that sounds like a fair assessment.”
“No, I didn’t mean it as an insult. She is a witch. Like ‘eye of newt’ witch? She has a ton of books on the subject that make me very nervous. If she finds me in her current state of mind .
. . well, let’s just say I prefer my genitalia in its current configuration.”
“Claire is a witch?” She was surprised Reggie seemed ready to believe it—full-fledged humans rarely accepted oddities unless they were shaken right in front of their faces on a regular basis.
The fact that Claire may or may not have been a real witch didn’t scare Val in the slightest.
There were more paranormal elements in the earthly realm than most humans knew about. In fact, there was a special section of Heaven where witches and other non-evil creatures like werewolves went to after death. The angels called it the “Hair and Scare” area, but just among themselves. Besides, most witches were very salt-of-the-earth and do-no-evil gals. No green faces and broomstick-riding. At least, for the most part.
Although thinking her boyfriend was a cheater might make any girl go a little green in the gills. Broomstick optional.
“Witchcraft is her latest hobby,” Reggie said nervously. “She’s been buying candles like crazy lately.”
“Scented?”
“Some.”
“Then I don’t think you should be out in the open like this. You should probably hide.”
“Yes. Hide. I’m going to go hide now. At the casino.”
“I’ll see you back at the motel later.”
He nodded. “Do you think you could talk to her?”
“Huh?”
“Talk to Claire. She likes you. Just tell her that I was a rat but I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, that it was a big mistake. That she’s the only one for me. Say something nice, all pretty and poetic and sincere. Make it up if you have to.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
He paused, brow lowered, then he looked at Val with a smile. “Consider it your good deed for the day.”
She stared at him for a moment before she burst out laughing. “You have a lot of nerve asking me to do this.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“I’ll talk to her. But you’ll owe me big time for this.”
His smile widened. “And will you throw her over the Falls if she tries to hurt me?”
“Do you want me to?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but must have had second thoughts. “Of course not.”
“Good answer.”
“Val, maybe if she doesn’t take me back, you and me should go out some time. There’s a little place in Tonawanda that has great lobster.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
His smile held but he didn’t say anything else.
She pointed in a direction far away from her. “Go.”
He went, but looked over his shoulder to blow her a kiss first.
What a jerk, she thought. But she was still smiling. He’d managed to pull her out of her current funk a little bit. Kicking and screaming, but she did feel better.
She was sure it would pass.
Val trudged back to the Paradise Inn, which was a ten minute walk up Clifton Hill, past wax museums, souvenir shops, restaurants, and around the bend.
On the way back she’d come up with a plan. And she was going to follow through with it right away before she chickened out.
There was one person in the earthly realm whom she’d come to trust completely. Somebody who’d never been anything but nice and kind and warm and thoughtful with her. Somebody who’d made the past two months of being human nearly bearable.
Even though he made her clean rooms.
Mr. Barlow. She absolutely adored the old man. She was going to tell him that she was a fallen angel. He would believe her, she knew it. Then she’d have someone who knew what she was—the fact that Seraphina also knew was, sadly, little comfort to her—and help her get back. She wasn’t sure exactly how he could help, but getting this huge weight off her mind would be a wonderful thing.
It made perfect sense to her.
Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten all day. She would talk to Barlow, clear her mind, then head over to McDonald’s for dinner.
That was the plan.
She moved past the rickety old patio furniture strewn about in the small courtyard in the middle of the U-shaped motel, sidestepping the pool that apparently hadn’t been in working order for more than five years and was currently covered by a thick layer of leaves and snow.
She marched right to the manager’s office, her plan clear in her mind, and pushed open the door. A little bell above it jingled. Nobody was at the desk.
“Mr. Barlow?”
No answer. She could hear soft music coming from his living area behind the office on the other side of a beaded curtain, so she moved toward that and pushed the curtain aside.
Barlow’s living room was small. Drab carpeting. A beat up La-Z-Boy armchair was positioned in front of a television with rabbit ears. A few copies of Reader’s Digest sat on the chipped coffee table. The room felt comfortable, but old and tired.
At the moment, though, there were a couple of things in the room that didn’t look old and tired. A balloon, for one. Red and shiny and tied with a long yellow ribbon that trailed down to the floor. Printed on the balloon was HAPPY ANNIVERSARY. It was a smear of color in the colorless room.
Barlow himself sat in the armchair, staring at Val in surprise. The pretty woman holding a cake and standing in front of Barlow didn’t look surprised. Which was odd since she was topless. Val would have expected a half-naked woman carrying a cake would look surprised that someone just walked in on her unannounced.
They all stared at each other for a moment as the radio played “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” by
Rod Stewart.
Val finally averted her gaze. “Awkward,” she said aloud. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”
“This is”—Barlow gestured at the woman—“Alexa. She’s . . . um, a friend of mine.”
“I can see that,” Val glanced briefly at the woman. “I’ve, uh . . . nev
er seen you around here before.”
Barlow cleared his throat. “No, Alexa hasn’t visited me for several months.”
“Charmed,” Alexa said. She put down the cake, then retrieved her blouse from the floor.
“I, uh, wanted to talk to you. But—” Val glanced at the balloon, then again at the now thankfully dressed Alexa, “I’m thinking it can wait a bit. Should I be saying ‘happy anniversary’ to you today?”
Barlow’s gaze shifted to the woman, then he sighed heavily and shook his head. He stood up from the chair, walked over to the ribbon, and pulled the balloon down from the ceiling.
“Not necessary,” he said, then popped the balloon between his palms.
Val jumped at the sudden noise. “Bad balloon?”
He let the limp piece of rubber fall to the carpet.
Alexa was now pouting. “Baby, why did you do that?”
He rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to ask you not to call me ‘baby’?”
Her pout deepened.
Val was very confused. Barlow was an old man, easily in his mid-seventies. His face was deeply lined, and his eyes always looked as if they’d seen too much and just wanted to stay shut. His hair was thick but white, just like his eyebrows, and he wore black-rimmed glasses.
She’d seen a few pictures of Barlow in his twenties, and he’d been a hottie in his time. That time had passed.
Now he was a nice, harmless old man.
A nice, harmless old man who had a gorgeous woman who didn’t look a day over twenty-five calling him baby? Maybe he was filthy rich and she just didn’t know it.
But as confused as she was by the two of them, it was none of her business.
Val shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I’ll just get out of your hair and let you get back to . . . whatever it was you were doing.”
“Are you all right?” Barlow asked, his brow wrinkling even further.
She shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ll talk to you later.” She glanced at Alexa again. “If you aren’t too tired, that is.”
Alexa grinned at her. She was really gorgeous with long, raven-colored hair, a tight black skirt, and four-inch spiked heels that showed off mile-long legs. Creamy flawless skin, full red lips. The woman positively glowed.
