“I trust you. You are my best friend,” she says without a hint of doubt.
“As you are mine, always,” I reply.
CHAPTER 9
Houghton
To say that the first few days in Houghton have been dark for Red would not be a very good description. It is more accurate to say that there has been a complete absence of light for her. She tries to hide it from me, doin’ all the things that need to be done to establish a new life, but there is absolutely no light in her. We arrive at our new apartment in the middle of the night, which turns out to be a good thing ‘cuz it is less disgustin’ in the dark than in the bright daylight. I doubt Red sees it that way ‘cuz her eyesight is fierce in the dark, but it is better for me.
Our new digs consist of a two-bedroom apartment on the upstairs portion of a duplex. It must have been a bachelor hang out prior to our movin’ in, judgin’ by the scars in the peelin’ floral wall paper and the lack of cleanin’ done when the previous occupants moved out. I seriously doubt they got their security deposit back. Lucky for us, it has hardwood floors ‘cuz I can’t imagine what the carpet would’ve looked like if there had been some.
The entrance to our apartment is on the side of the house, and once yer in the outside door, ya have to climb a steep, narrow staircase that leads to a narrow landin’ at the top of the stairs. I have to duck my head the entire time I’m walkin’ up them ‘cuz they weren’t built for someone six foot five inches. When ya unlock the door at the top of the stairs, ya then have to step down one step ‘cuz someone mounted the door backwards, makin’ it open out instead of in. The door still locks on the inside, so they must’ve decided that turnin’ the doorknob ‘round was easier than remountin’ the door. I might have to fix it soon ‘cuz it’s drivin’ me insane.
The first night isjust plain awful. There is no furniture, so we end up huddling together on the floor in one of the bedrooms without a blanket. I must be really tired ‘cuz I manage to sleep for a while. I wake, though, when Red has one of her nightmares. She won’t talk to me about it. It must be a bad one ‘cuz she can’t go back to sleep for a while after havin’ it. I can’t sleep either, since I drank a half a bottle of whiskey by myself at the gas station and I’m feelin’ the after effects of the alcohol.
In the mornin’, we check out the first floor of the house and learn that a little old lady occupies it. Her name is Estelle Strauss, but she insists that we call her Stella when we venture downstairs to introduce ourselves. She has a cat named Snowball that she talks to like it’s a person. She says she is sad to see the young men from the college go, they were helpful to her from time to time, when she needed somethin’ done. She must not have heard them ‘cuz I notice she has to turn up her hearin’ aid several times in order to hear what we are sayin’ to her. She seems like a nice lady and I promise to help her out if she needs somethin’ done.
Everythin’ we do consists of cautiously planned out missions. Even the most mundane tasks have a written set of objectives. There are parameters, variables are discussed, and recon is to be done prior to the missions.
Our first mission is a grocery store run to get food and cleanin’ supplies to make livin’ in that apartment bearable. After goin’ through a fast food drive-thru for coffee and breakfast sandwiches, we do a drive by of the local grocery store. Houghton has a couple of the big chain stores up here, like ya see everywhere else in the country. But, we opt for a smaller, privately owned grocery to begin with ‘cuz it has big plate glass windows linin’ the front of the store, which are easy to see through. Pullin’ up in the parkin’ lot, we start gatherin’ intel on the grocery store before either one of us attempts to enter.
Red can see the layout of the aisles through the storefront windows. Every item that is needed is discussed and outlined by aisle for the most efficient use of time while in the store. We do surveillance on the grocery store employees, shift changes are noted, and time frames are established. We know which checkout lane will be fastest, based on the chattiness and efficiency of the cashier.
We watch the store for two days before we determine that it is safe to go inside. Red decides that she is the only one who is allowed to go in the store for now. This pisses me off, at first, ‘cuz I’m more afraid of her runnin’ into a bad guy than if I do, but she makes a good argument when she says that my wings are uncontrollable at this point. She says it’s better to have me watch the front of the store and signal her if I see anythin’ threatenin’. We don’t have cell phones yet, so Red comes up with a great way for me to get her attention in the event that I see an angel comin’. She pops out the vanity mirror on the passenger side visor of the car and hands it to me. I’m supposed to flash sunlight on the front windows of the store if I see anythin’.
“Remember, if you see anything, don’t get out of the car. Flash the mirror at me, and then go. Drive back to the apartment and wait for me. If I’m not back in an hour, head out of town. Don’t hang around. Just go. You can stop in any one of these small towns and check Facebook to see if I wrote to you,” she says, watchin’ my face for any sign of rebellion.
I scan her. She looks so fragile sittin’ in the passenger seat of the Jeep. She is dressed in jeans and a simple cotton shirt that she modified to accommodate her wings, in the event she can’t control them from comin’ out. She looks to me like someone should be holdin’ her hand when she crosses the street. She seems so delicate, even though I have seen how lethal she is, if she has to be.
“How badly do we really need to do this, Red?” I ask her, panickin’ a little, thinkin’ of her in there all by herself.
“Badly. We’re almost out of the toilet paper that was under the sink in the bathroom and I can’t stand looking at the grossness that is our apartment. Plus, I can’t eat one more meal from the drive-thru,” she says, tryin’ to hide her frustration with the situation we have been livin’ with for the past few days. “I need to take a shower with shampoo and conditioner and deodorant would be nice, too.” She goes on, eyein’ me, and I have to admit it would be nice to have all of those things again.
“We have enough cash left for this?” I ask her again, cringin’ ‘cuz it’s her money, not mine. My money is gone, which is one of the worst feelings in the world. Bein’ dependant is probably the worst part of all of this. Red keeps sayin’ the money is as much mine as it is hers ‘cuz it was her uncle’s money, not hers, and he would want both of us to have it. But, it still blows.
“Yeah, we have enough for this and maybe the mattresses next, but we’re going to have to get our bank account straight soon. We have to establish our stash of cash somewhere safe, so we can get out of town fast if we need to,” she replies.
“Maybe we should do that first,” I say, more ‘cuz I don’t want her to get out of the car, than that I really care what order we do things in.
I think she sees through me, ‘cuz she says, “I’ll be right back. We haven’t seen any angels here, just humans. It’s safe. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
She opens the door and starts to get out when I say, “Red!” She pauses and turns back toward me. I throw my arms ‘round her tight and don’t let go for a few seconds. She lets me hug her, and when I let her go, she gives me a brief smile. She steps out of the car and into the bright sunlight, puttin’ on a pair of sunglasses and carryin’ her small purse. I watch her cross the parkin’ lot and pull a metal shoppin’ cart from the bay of carts. She disappears through the automatic doors in the front of the grocery store. She reappears again, seconds later, pushin’ her cart through the produce aisle while pickin’ up fruits and vegetables with the speed and precision of a soccer mom.
I tear my eyes away from her so that I can act as her lookout and make sure that no angels are gonna sneak up on her. We both know that the risks are minimal, even if there are angels nearby. Judgin’ by the way we’ve been livin’ with Reed and Zee, they would consider shoppin’ for their own food beneath them. I don’t know ’bout the Fallen, but I would guess they have a
similar arrogance when it comes to the grocery store, but if I’m wrong, the consequences are catastrophic.
I glance back in the store to see Red comin’ back up another aisle. She is concentratin’ on her list, but she is not goin’ unnoticed by the people in the grocery store. Everyone she walks by gives her a second look. Everybody: women included. It could be ‘cuz of the sensual way she carries herself, like she’s stalkin’ a particularly stealthy prey. Or, it could be that she’s just the sexiest thing they’ve seen in this part of the world. Whatever the case, she is definitely not blendin’ in well. A growl escapes me when I notice the stockboys followin’ her, watchin’ her ass as she pushes her cart back down another aisle, not even pausin’ while she plucks another item from the shelf.
She looks over her shoulder once or twice, noticin’ that the stockboys are followin’ her. She knows everythin’ that is goin’ on ‘round her ‘cuz of the way she can process information rapidly, but I wonder if she knows why they’re followin’ her. I doubt she does. She has no idea just how allurin’ she is. None.
The stockboys soon have competition from the store manager who notices her as she walks by the customer service counter. The middle-aged man pops his head up from behind the counter and ’bout falls over it in his haste to unlock the door and get out from behind the counter. He hitches up his pants to pull them more securely over his protrudin’ belly. Then, runnin’ his hand through his thinnin’ brown hair, he straightens his tie and smoothes his shirt a bit, waitin’ for Red to head back up the next aisle. Just before she nears him, he leans casually against the soda pop display and sucks in his gut a little before he says somethin’ to her.
Red smiles at him, pausin’ to reply to whatever the pervert is sayin’ to her, and then she is movin’ to the next aisle. Mr. Manager finds somethin’ pressin’ to do in every aisle she is in for the last few aisles of the store. Another growl escapes me, seein’ him dismiss the boy baggin’ up Red’s groceries in the fast checkout aisle. He is doin’ it for her. My hand twitches on the handle of the car door. I am across the parkin’ lot and pacin’ in front of the store window in a matter of moments. I’m not even sure how I got here, but I’m here, watchin’ the round man eyein’ my girl.
Red sees me immediately and I can tell by the look on her face that seein’ me here is alarmin’ her. She scans the parkin’ lot, lookin’ for any potential threat that would cause me to deviate from the plan. She absently hands the money for the groceries to the cashier. She starts to help bag the rest of the groceries, nervously castin’ glances at me, and then at the parkin’ lot.
The manager says somethin’ to her, and then he does the unthinkable. He puts his hand on Red’s arm. I am in the store with every intention of flattin’ the round man into a pancake. Fantasy after fantasy of ways to maim and kill him bounce through my head. Seein’ me comin’, Red steps out from the cash register aisle. She must be readin’ the look on my face ‘cuz she walks in front of the manager and breathes nervously, “Hank, you’re just in time to help me take the groceries to the car.” She catches me ‘round the waist, huggin’ me to her body. Her grip is like steal and I can’t step ‘round her to get to the pervert behind her, but he is definitely readin’ the intentions on my face. He takes a couple of steps back from the lane, lookin’ ‘round wildly for an exit strategy.
When I glance down at Red’s face, I see her frownin’ at me. “I think we’re ready to go, are you ready?” she asks.
I try to clear the clouds of black rage from my head that are blockin’ out everythin’ else. “Do wut?” I ask in confusion.
“I’m done, let’s go,” she orders. She eases her arms off of my waist. Reachin’ back, she pulls the cart, loaded with groceries, from where it is packed up near the end of the cashier aisle. She manages to pull the front of the cart to us, and then she holds my hand and pushes the handle of the cart as we walk from the grocery store with all eyes on us.
Warm air assails us when the automatic doors open up and allows us to exit the store. Red is watchin’ me the entire time that it takes to walk back to the car. She notices when I look back over my shoulder at the store and her hand tightens almost painfully on mine. She holds my hand as she opens the hatch of our car, and then she says, “Help me get the groceries in the car.”
I pick up a bag, and then I look at her ‘cuz she still has my other hand in hers. “Y’all can let go of me now. I’m just gonna load the car up,” I say, and when she doesn’t let me go immediately, I add, “I promise.”
She lets me go, but she doesn’t move from her position, which is between the store and me. When I finish, she waits until I get back in the car before she pushes the cart to the cart corral and then comes back. Sittin’ in the passenger seat, she is quiet as I pull out of the parkin’ lot. She is bitin’ her lip nervously like she wants to say somethin’ to me but she doesn’t know how.
I exhale deeply, feelin’ aggressive and pissy and guilty. I totally lost focus on what I was supposed to be doin’ when I saw all of those guys followin’ her ‘round the store. I wouldn’t have seen an angel co-min’ to warn her ‘cuz I had been too focused on the humans to care. “Listen, I… I don’t know what—that guy touched ya—and they were all followin’ ya—I couldn’t just sit there and…” I can’t think straight. I run my hand through my hair, tryin’ to calm down ‘cuz I can feel my wings movin’ in my back and that’s always a bad sign. I think the only thing that will make me feel better is goin’ back to the store and beatin’ the snot outta that freakin’ manager.
“It’s okay, Russell,” she says, watchin’ me struggle with my emotions. “It’s an instinct and it’s really hard to control it.”
My expression grows darker. “An instinct? Explain,” I say fiercely.
“I’m not sure what you saw when you were out in the parking lot, but you must have interpreted that someone was getting too close to me. You must also believe that I’m yours.” The last part she says like she is eatin’ sawdust ‘cuz it is hard for her to say the words. “I have been told that our kind, Seraphim, are highly territorial when it comes to attraction and what we feel belongs to us.”
My eyes shift to hers for a second, and then it all makes sense and I relax a little. I pull up to our apartment and put the car in park. We sit there not movin’ for a second, and then Red says, “You don’t seem very upset about what I just told you.”
“No. It makes perfect sense to me,” I answer. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion so I add, “I’m a guy, we’re usually like that, but it’s more intense when there’s angel DNA to back it up.” I see her frown.
“You don’t seem to mind it very much,” she points out.
“No. I just have to do a better job of controllin’ it, but it’s not a totally foreign feelin’, if that’s what yer sayin’. Like I said, it’s a guy thing,” I reply, gettin’ out of the car and openin’ up the hatch to get an armload of the bags from the back.
When she comes ‘round the other side of the car to pick up some bags, she looks sullen.
“Wut?” I ask, smilin’.
“Nothing,” she replies, still frownin’ at me like I have lost my mind.
“Seriously, what?” I ask as I follow her back up to the apartment.
She unlocks the door, climbin’ the stairs to the landin’. Openin’ the door, she steps down a step, so the door won’t knock her off the landin’. After she enters the apartment, she goes straight to the kitchenette and places her bags on the counter. She immediately unpacks the bags, and findin’ the cleanin’ supplies, she opens the refrigerator and starts wipin’ it out with soapy water and a sponge.
“Red?” I ask, unpackin’ the bags I brought up from the car.
She sighs. “FINE! Why is all of this so easy for you to accept?” she asks, glarin’ out her frustration. “Because when I found out what I just told you, it was after I almost put a fork in a waitress, and to me it was a big deal.”
“Y’all did that?” I ask, tryin’ to imagin
e the situation that led her to do that. She had been with Reed no doubt. Just thinkin’ of her havin’ that kind of reaction for him makes the aggressive emotions flair back up in me. I try to play it cool though, so she won’t see how wrecked that thought makes me. I shrug coolly and continue to unpack my bags. “I told ya, this is all meant to be. Maybe it should be easier for me than for y’all, did ya ever think of that?” I ask, ‘cuz she needs a good fight to get out some of the anxiety that’s floatin’ ‘round in her.
“Why should this be easier for you than me? I was born part angel,” she says, her hands on her hips now.
“Yeah, but I had to die to become part angel,” I reply as I pick up one of the sponges and dip it in the soapy water, usin’ it to clean off the shelves in the cupboards.
She doesn’t take the bait I hand her, but instead, she begins cleanin’ again and thinkin’ ’bout what I just said. “Did you die?” she asks, not lookin’ up, but continuin’ on with her task.
“Yeah. I think so. I don’t remember leavin’ ya, but I’m pretty sure I was goin’, even as I was prayin’ to God to let me stay and help ya,” I admit, still workin’ on the shelves.
“You’re so stubborn. Of course you would stay,” she replies. I smile ‘cuz she knows me so well. I have no doubt that she would’ve stayed, too. We finish cleanin’ the kitchenette and puttin’ the groceries away. Red hands me a local newspaper she picked up at the store and asks me to look for a place to buy a couple of mattresses and box springs. She takes all of the toiletries to the bathroom, along with a couple of new dishtowels she had purchased at the grocery store. We don’t have any big towels yet, so we have to make due.
Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 21
