by Chloe Garner
“Yeah. Only woman in the top twenty-five.”
“What glass ceiling?” he asked. She grinned.
“Excuse me,” a woman called, walking across the parking lot. Sam and Samantha both looked up.
“We went berry picking yesterday and didn’t even think about the fact that we’re going to have to get on a plane tomorrow. Do you want these?” she asked, holding out a basket of raspberries. Samantha said a few words to her and the woman frowned.
“Come again?”
“Thank you,” Samantha said. “You’re very kind.”
“You’re too skinny anyway,” the woman said, wrinkling her nose at Samantha and smiling. “You two have a good evening.”
“You’re actually going to eat those?” Sam asked.
“She doesn’t know what Angeltongue is. Not a demon, not a well-trained spellcaster. And I love raspberries. I’m going to risk it,” Samantha said, dumping a handful of fruit into her mouth. Sam waited as she chewed.
“No razor blades or anything?” he asked.
“You need to trust more,” Samantha said, covering her mouth with her hand.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll take some, too.” She picked up a berry and motioned that she would throw it to him, grinning. He caught it, then the next. The third one landed in his eye. She laughed. He pulled her over closer to him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, helping himself to the basket of raspberries.
“You’re dangerous,” he said.
“You’re slow,” she countered, chewing happily. “When was the last time you had fresh fruit, like this?” she asked. He shook his head.
“Don’t know.”
“We used to go picking in the fall. Mom and I would make raspberry and strawberry preserves. It was the best,” Samantha said.
“I didn’t figure you for the domestic type,” he said. “Dungeons and Dragons, okay, knife-wielding demon-slayer, sure, but canning?”
She elbowed him in the ribs.
“I’m a great cook,” she said, then sat up.
“Huh,” she said.
“What?” he asked. She handed him the raspberries.
“That’s been a while,” she said, standing. “I need you to keep Jason quiet and away. The quiet part is important.”
<><><>
Allison and Jason were sitting forehead-to-forehead on the bed. Allison had been crying, but now they just sat, eyes closed, breathing. The lock on the door beeped and the door opened. Jason frowned, but didn’t want to move.
“Allison,” Samantha said quietly, behind him. “We didn’t really get introduced. I’m Sam. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”
“What the hell?” Jason asked, turning to look at her. Sam looked bewildered.
“Jason, I need a minute. Will you stand with Sam over there, please? And not say anything?”
Jason stood, intending to stop her and make her explain, but Samantha just sat down in front of Allison. Sam grabbed his elbow and gently pulled him back, raising his hand to his lips, asking for Jason to not speak. He made an angry face and widened his eyes, but Sam spread his arms and shrugged. Jason sighed and turned to watch again.
Samantha raised her hands in front of Allison’s face and Allison leaned away.
“No pain from my hands,” Samantha said. She turned and looked back at Sam and Jason. “They trust me. I’m asking you to trust me for just a couple of minutes.”
Allison looked at Jason, and he nodded. Suddenly, Samantha turned to her right and smiled brightly at empty space.
“Hello, friend,” she said. “What are you doing here?” There was a pause, and she grinned wider, then dipped her head. “I’m honored.”
She turned back to Allison, who looked at Jason with panic. He glanced at Sam, still unsure what to think, and Sam shrugged again. He didn’t know either.
“Peace,” Samantha said. “Peace, everyone. Please look at me, Allison.”
Samantha put her fingertips on Allison’s head and began speaking her weird angel language. Jason started to ask Sam what was going on - again - and Sam emphatically motioned for him to wait. It was less than thirty seconds before Samantha finished. She looked at the empty space and smiled again.
“You flatter me,” she said. She looked at Allison, who was edging away from her.
“It’s over,” Samantha said, looking up at Sam and Jason. “The explosion of questions can happen now.”
“What the hell?” Jason asked. “You come barge in here and… with no explanation…”
Samantha looked at her open hands with curiosity, rubbing her thumbs across her fingertips.
“I just knew how. I needed to do it.”
“Knew how… what?” Allison asked softly.
“You have been given what you came here for,” Samantha said. “Healing.”
Allison gasped. Jason only very narrowly managed to hit the bed when he sat.
“I don’t feel any different,” Allison said. Samantha shook her head.
“No. You wouldn’t. Not in any major way. But something changed. I felt it. It was put right, and you will heal, now.” She paused and smiled kindly. “Go home, Beloved. Go in faith and in joy.”
Allison put her fingertips in her mouth and looked at Jason.
“Is she serious?” she asked, the first note of hope sounding in her voice. Jason looked at Samantha, then at Sam.
“I think she is.”
“I’m going to get better?” Allison asked, slowly standing. “Really?”
“If she says it, I’d believe it’s true,” Jason said, only realizing as he said it that that was actually the truth. She rushed at him, throwing her arms around his neck, her chest convulsing with sobs as she hit him. He staggered, and the bed at his knees nearly took him out, but Sam propped him up.
“I…” Allison said, then gave up and hugged him harder. He wrapped his arms around her ribs and held her, his mind refusing to offer any guidance on what he should do or should feel. For a time, he had no idea how long, they just were. When Allison finally let him go, and he helped her find her balance on her own feet again, Sam and Samantha were gone again.
<><><>
They sat around the little table in the hotel room, quiet. Jason was leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, staring out the window, Sam had his laptop out, filling Simon in on the day, and Samantha simply sat, watching them. Sam’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out, handing it to Samantha.
“It’s for you,” he said, then looked up at her. “How did I know that?”
“Psychics and phones are a thing,” she said, taking it. It was a text message.
it’s done
She set it back down and looked out the window.
“They’re dead,” she said. “Ian came in and wiped them out.”
Jason looked at her.
“They were all like Allison?”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I think I’ve got a bottle of whiskey out in the car,” he said. Sam stood.
“I’ll go get the glasses out of the bathroom.”
They meandered down to LA for a couple of days, but Sam and Samantha couldn’t stand it, and Jason didn’t enjoy it as much as he had hoped, so they headed east. In Phoenix, they found themselves in a bar with a DJ, and Samantha excused herself to go dance.
“She’s happy,” Sam observed.
“Still completely crazy,” Jason said. Sam nodded.
“She scares me,” Sam said.
“Me, too.”
“If it were just you, would you send her away?” Sam asked.
“If it were just me, she would be standing on the side of the road in Macon,” Jason said. He drank his beer and watched her dancing. “No, man, she feels like she fits. Every voice I’ve got in my head is telling me to cut and run from this one, but she fits.”
Sam nodded.
“Her singing in the backseat,” Sam said. Jason snorted. “About to drive me crazy, but you…”
“It’s like she just
steps out of everything, and it’s okay,” Sam said.
“How does she know all of the words?” Jason asked. Sam shook his head.
“She has a crazy memory,” he said. “I wrote out all of the spirits I could think of, and she sat down one night and took notes on all of them, and then she just remembered them all.”
“Spose that’s a vampire thing, too?” Jason asked.
“She isn’t a vampire,” Sam said flatly. Jason grinned. Samantha ran back to the table, out of breath.
“Come dance with me,” she said.
“No,” Jason said. Sam held up his hands.
“Come dance with me,” she said again, sliding around to stand behind Jason, putting her hands on his shoulders. “I won’t misbehave, I promise. Just come dance with me.”
Jason looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders fully to his ears.
“I don’t care, man. Just don’t make out with her again. That was creepy.”
Jason sighed and let Samantha drag him over to the underpopulated floor.
“I feel weird, dancing by myself,” she said, putting her arms over his shoulders and standing with him, leaning back and forth.
“I went to exactly one dance in middle school, and I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it went,” Jason said. She grinned.
“So you think you can keep up with me?” she asked.
“Well, no, but I can do better than this,” he said. She grinned and spun away, teasing him to follow. It wasn’t like dancing with Kara - she knew exactly what she wanted, and had no patience - nor was it like the night after the pair of exorcisms, when Samantha had pushed him around simply to prove he would let her. She was flirty, but shy, unwilling to settle into dancing with him for more than a second or two. Fizzy.
He went back to the table after a considerable time, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m going to go get a taxi back to the hotel. I’m beat. You should stay with her.”
He stood up and waved, and Samantha came running through the tables and jumped to hug him. He caught her, but barely, and she swung past, landing lightly on her toes as Sam stumbled forward.
“Bye,” she said, and ran back out onto the open hardwood.
“Or we could leave crazy at the bar, where it belongs,” Jason observed.
“Oh, come on. You always bring crazy home,” Sam said. Jason put a finger up.
“I never bring crazy home. I go home with crazy, then I leave before morning.”
“Jason, she had a tutu.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Jason asked.
“Tutu?”
Sam grinned and knocked on the table.
“Going to go sleep. You two have fun.”
Jason sat and watched Samantha and drank his beer. Twice more, she whisked him out to dance with her, until he finally came back to the table to find the rest of the bar empty. The bartender grinned at him as he walked up.
“I didn’t realize we were keeping you,” he said. “I’ll just grab her and we’ll head out.”
“My brother is the DJ. He doesn’t get much enthusiasm, most nights. I wouldn’t chase you out for anything,” she said. He nodded, sitting down on a stool. “She’s an interesting dancer.”
“I can’t keep up with her,” Jason said. The woman shook her head, laughing.
“No, you can’t. But she slows down for you.”
He considered.
“I guess she does.”
“For your sake, I hope she never meets someone she doesn’t have to slow down for,” she said.
“Oh, we’re just friends,” he said. She smiled down at the glass she was drying off and nodded.
“It’s a good thing. I think my brother is hitting on her.”
The song ended and the next one started.
“Is this Coldplay?” Jason asked. “That doesn’t count as dance music, does it?”
The bartender jerked her head.
“Just watch.”
Samantha’s entire body stretched out, playing the curves and the flow of the music like water. Jason glanced back at the bartender, who was nodding.
“He’s definitely hitting on her. Has been all night, by the way. Picking stuff to make her happy.”
“It seems to be working,” Jason said, tilting his head to the side as he turned back to watch Samantha. “She’s more flexible than I knew.”
The woman laughed again, leaning in on her elbows.
“Look at him,” she said, jerking her chin. Up in the shadows of the electronics booth, a tall, gangly boy was simply standing, watching her.
“How old is he?” Jason asked.
“Twenty-two,” the bartender answered. Jason shrugged. Consenting adults. He turned to look at the bartender, who was still leaning out over the bar.
“You have to stay to close up?” he asked. She levered back onto her feet and stood, tossing her hair off her shoulder.
“He’s got keys,” she said. Jason nodded, rubbing his jaw with a finger.
<><><>
Samantha was breathing music. Her entire body, toes to fingertips to the ends of her hair, flowed, poured itself into the sweeping melody of the song. Eyes closed, she stretched and bent, finding limits that she had once pushed past, but that had crept up on her again. The song ended, and she found herself facing the ground, one hand on the floor behind her feet. The next song started with a flourish, and she snapped upright, arms outspread, wrapping them slowly around her body as she coiled down through the introduction into a huddle, waiting for the proper open of the song. She knew them as words, but her body knew them as shapes. Something was pinging at her consciousness, and she looked up.
“Sam,” Jason said. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he had tried to get her attention. She looked up without standing. He dropped his keys from a height onto a table top so that she would hear them.
“Have a good time. We’re going to head out,” he said, jerking his thumb at the pretty bartender. She nodded and put her head back down on her arm, opening into the next phrase of the song, swept away again.
<><><>
Jason opened the door the next morning and stretched in the doorway. Sam looked up.
“When did Sam come home last night?” Jason asked. Sam jerked his head toward the bathroom.
“She just got in. She’s in the shower. I thought you were going to keep an eye on her.”
“What? I left her with some nerdy DJ who was in love with her. What’s going to happen? She’ll just Vulcan death-grip him if he gets uppity, or something. Besides. She was hot.”
“Sam?”
“No. Veronica.”
“Ah. The busty bartender.”
“Was she? Oh, yeah. She was. Good for her.”
“For being busty?” Sam asked.
“No. Sam. For making a night of it,” Jason said, waggling his eyebrows. Sam looked back at his laptop.
“She danced all night. The kitchen staff kicked them out.”
“Dang,” Jason said. “And I thought I was sore.”
“Awesome,” Sam said. “Does that mean I’m driving?”
“What’s up?”
“Heather just called. They’ve got something weird going on locally, and she asked if we were around to come take a look at it.”
“What has she got?”
“Mostly just cattle turning up dead, but she said it’s weird. She hasn’t seen this kind of thing before.”
“Goblins again?” Jason asked.
“Could be. I told her we’d be there today.”
“I just need a shower, and then I’m good to go.” Jason turned from the table. Samantha was dressed, standing by the bed drying her hair. “Heard you had a good night.”
“Lovely, thank you. I’d rather not hear about yours,” Samantha said.
“I suspect that’s wisest,” Jason said. “You hear we’re headed out?”
“Heard the phone ring. Want to go to bed. Am I sleeping here or in the Cruiser?”
“Go g
et bedded down. We’ll get checked out and on the road once I get rinsed off.”
“Was that creepy on purpose, or is it just me?” Samantha asked.
“Just you,” Jason said.
“I’ll be in the car,” Samantha said. “You mind getting my other bag?” she asked Sam as she picked up her backpack. Sam nodded, amused. She frowned at him.
“You two are friends, now,” he said. She grimaced.
“Can’t imagine how that happened.”
“Sleep well, Samderella,” Jason called, shutting the door to the bathroom. She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it.
“I’ve got nothing. I’m going to go sleep. I’ll see you in eight hours.”
<><><>
Sam knelt at the carcass, looking at the cut marks.
“Definitely not claws,” he said.
“Don’t look like teeth,” Jason said from behind him.
“You guys are looking too close,” Samantha said. “They’re blade marks. Someone cut open a cow while it was alive.”
“Who would do that?” Jason asked.
“Frustrated demon?” Sam asked.
“There are spells that require lifeblood,” Samantha said.
“Lifeblood should be from the throat, not the belly,” Heather said. Samantha nodded. Sam went back to stand with Heather, where he could see the entire bloodied area. The cow had tried to defend itself. The blood was tracked over an area twenty or thirty feet across, and the ground was churned. The deep slashes across its flanks had bled hard, but the final blow had been the one that punctured the abdominal wall, dropping its internal organs on the ground. It had gone down and died quickly after that, but it didn’t look like the attacker had done anything to finish the job. Sam pictured a figure standing over the body, just there where Samantha was, watching it die. Not so excited about it as to pounce on the animal and kill it or eat it. Just, watching.
“Demon,” he said again. Samantha looked over her shoulder.
“I see your point,” she said. “I just don’t see why.”
“Who can say what motivates demons,” Jason said.
“Fear, pain, and blood,” Samantha answered. Jason looked at her.
“Do we need to talk about what ‘rhetorical’ means?” he asked. She frowned.
“But it was a question with an answer. Just because you don’t think there’s an answer doesn’t make it rhetorical.”
