by Claire Kane
Victor pressed on. “But how can you see me?”
“With my eyes. Got any more bright questions?”
Victor shook his head. “I’m a little bit dead, pal. And you don’t look like Bruce Willis.”
The guy actually cracked a smile at that. “You ain’t gotta be a Hollywood star to see dead people. You just gotta know the right folks. Or, you know, find some other way to tap into things the eye can’t normally see.”
Victor was intrigued, but clearly getting nowhere. Rao, he called. Is there something you forgot to tell me?
There was a brief pause, then the cat’s voice floated through his mind. Yes. I failed to mention that I won my round of croquet and have advanced to the semi-finals. You can watch the replay when you’re done.
He rolled his eyes. Maybe it’s better I couldn’t hear you when we were both still mortal.
Agreed, came the reply. I don’t think you could have handled the truth about your morning breath when I tried telling you.
“You talking to someone?” the bell ringer asked. “You are, ain’cha? I can see that far-away look in your eyes. Probably looking for answers old Teddy doesn’t want to just give away.”
Victor flicked a glance at the man. “So what’s it take to get a guy like you to talk?”
The man nodded appreciatively. “There we go. Now you’re catching on.”
“Did you already forget the part about my being dead? That means I don’t have anything.”
Teddy shrugged again, and called out for donations to a passerby. A man dropped some change in the bucket, and Teddy smiled and wished him a Merry Christmas before replying to Victor. “I can see right through you. That means you’re either incorporeal, or on a weight-loss program that would make you a billionaire overnight.”
Victor looked down at himself, and then at Teddy. “‘Incorporeal’ seems like a pretty big word for you.”
Teddy stopped ringing his bell and stared right at Victor. “Insults ain’t becoming an angel. Now are you going to go back to where you belong, or do you got something for me? Being homeless can be a full-time job.”
“Again,” Victor said, gesturing at himself, “kinda dead here.”
“Heaven’s always got something for guys like me. Why do you think we keep doing business with you?”
Victor frowned. Rao? A little help here?
He felt a sigh. It’s just Teddy. Tell him you’ve got a couple of ten spots, but that you think he’s just telling you tales about him being homeless, then walk away.
Victor frowned. And?
And what? Just do it, and you’ll find out. I’ll explain more later. My set is up, and I just found the perfect mallet.
The former Seattle resident groaned and buried his face in a palm. “Thanks for nothing.”
“‘Scuse me?” Teddy said.
“Look,” Victor said, feeling like a liar and hating it, “I don’t think you really need the twenty bucks I have. You’re just scamming me. I’ve got other things to do. You have a good night. Merry Christmas.” With that, he turned and walked away.
“Twenty bucks?” Teddy called at his back. “What? Did Heaven suddenly get a budget?”
Victor continued to walk, hoping his trust in Rao hadn’t been misplaced. Then again, she’d never misled him before. He was still disturbed by her elusiveness, but not surprised. More disturbing was the fact that some random guy—with unnervingly coincidental connections—could both see and hear him, to say nothing of blocking Victor’s ability to read the guy’s mind. Though he knew angels could hide their true identity from mortals when the situation called for it, he’d heard nothing about things going the other way. Maybe this was part of the dark situation Rao had mentioned before she’d sent him here?
He made his way up Seneca, his spiritual senses probing outward for pockets of darkness. His feelings brushed across a few pockets of dark spirits, and he even caught a strong whiff of Legion, but they seemed to sense him as well, and he could feel them grudgingly recoil. All the same, he didn’t welcome any attacks.
He hadn’t gone half a block before he heard Teddy’s voice behind him. “Angel Boy!”
Victor stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A few pedestrians were eyeing Teddy warily, but they carried on as though he were crazy. One of them muttered, “Stupid homeless druggie.”
Then something clicked for Victor, and he walked back to meet Teddy. “Drugs. You are on drugs, aren’t you? It’s how you can see me.”
Teddy waved him off. “Twenty bucks is twenty bucks.” He held out his hand expectantly. “And I ain’t lyin’ about my unfortunate condition. I don’t take kindly to being called a liar.”
Victor paused, knowing he didn’t actually have any cash.
“Well?” Teddy demanded.
Victor opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a stiff gust of wind that swept a pile of debris in front of it. Some of the debris smacked against Teddy, who—as though he expected it—clutched at it. Victor’s jaw dropped as Teddy unclenched his fist to reveal a pair of ten-dollar bills.
“Took ya’ long enough,” he murmured. “You must be a new guy. This your first day on the job? Probably haven’t even finished reading the manual, have you?” With that, he turned and walked back the way he came.
Victor simply stared.
A few yards later, Teddy halted. Without turning, he called, “Well? Ya’ comin’?”
Seattle’s newest guardian angel bit his lip, and took the offer.
FOURTEEN
Trend’s receptionist greeted Lacey with a rude “You’re here.” She snapped her headset off, shoving it in its charger beside the desk phone. “I’ve gotta go.”
Lacey opened her mouth to acknowledge the tired young woman, but was distracted by her hurriedly picking up a purse and Starbuck’s coffee cup, and rushing to the elevator.
The offices behind the reception desk looked dark. There was a loud silence throughout. Of course, Lacey reassured herself, this appointment was after hours. She spun to ask, “Where’s Geo?” but the doors swished closed on the woman’s careless expression before she had the chance.
“Hello?” Lacey called, stepping forward, the clacks of her heels echoing lightly. “Geo?”
She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment over the fact that Jack wasn’t there, ready to greet her. Especially after their date having gone so well. This is business, Lacey, she scolded herself.
Stepping around the large, sleek desk, she headed to the offices on the left. “Geo?” There was still no answer. A chill overcame her and she literally said “Brrr” at the sudden feeling, pulling her overcoat tighter. Hesitantly approaching the first door, Lacey considered opening it. She gently pushed down the lever door handle. Locked. She went to the next door. Locked. Why did she suddenly feel like she was in a scene from a horror movie? Maybe it was a bad idea to have sent Victor away.
As Lacey pressed down the next lever door handle, music suddenly played. She glanced up to see the speaker in the ceiling, like at department stores. A soft tune of Careless Whisper by George Michael played. Lacey pulled her phone out of her purse, thinking to call Jack, but realized they hadn’t even exchanged numbers. Someone had turned the song on. For the briefest of moments, Lacey imagined Jack hiding somewhere with a dozen roses, waiting to dance. But the chill came back, and the song took on an undeniable eeriness.
“There you are!” a voice came from behind Lacey. She spun on her heels and caught her breath. There was a man in a Hawaiian shirt, his brown spiked hair bleached at the tips. His smile was huge. “Oh, you are lovely. Let’s get to work, shall we? Come, this way.”
“Geo?” Lacey uttered, following him down the hall.
“That’s my name!” He walked like a woman on a catwalk, his hips lightly swaying, one foot perfectly in front of the other. “Come along.”
Soon enough, Lacey was posing in front of a white screen, with what looked like a glowing umbrella propped and pointing at her, subduing any glares
from the camera’s flash. “You look a-maz-ing,” Geo kept saying. “Beals is going to love these.”
“Are we almost done?” she asked nearly a half hour later. Surely the hundreds of snapshots were enough to determine her skills. But Geo paused, shaking his head, with another big smile. “It’s not that easy, honey.” He walked over to a rack of clothes, scoured it, and found a black bikini. “Quick, put this on,” he said, holding it out.
Lacey gritted her teeth at the swimwear. She glanced down at her attire. A white silk blouse over a black pencil skirt. Classy. She looked back up at him with a questioning look.
“It’s standard procedure,” Geo said. “You didn’t think this is just about your face, did you?” When Lacey didn’t respond, he burst out in laughter. “Oh, honey, are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
Lacey lifted her chin, striding over. She snatched the bikini out of his hand with a smile. “It just takes some getting used to, being objectified,” she blurted.
Geo lifted his eyebrows in condescension. “Oh, Lacey Ling, you didn’t know all of Seattle was objectifying you when all they could see were those slender but curvy legs crossed beneath KZTB’s desk?”
She glared at him. Legs were one thing. This was something else.
Geo put hands on hips. “Okay, maybe Beals didn’t thoroughly explain the job description. I don’t know if you’re aware, but we are currently understaffed by two girls. Trend Modeling doesn’t cater to the runway market. We like girls who have a little more up top, if you know what I mean. Now, we have spots to fill, and frankly, twenty girls who want in.”
Clearing her throat, Lacey mustered a more professional composure. “I apologize. Of course you do. It’s just a job.” She paused, daring to ask, “Are you sure you have that many in line, though, with, you know, the recent murders?”
Geo narrowed his brown eyes, his usually over-the-top upbeat countenance fallen dead serious. “Listen, it’s not like me to gossip”—Lacey doubted that—“but those girls got too hot for their britches.”
“Yes?” Lacey said with tempered interest.
“Jessica and Shayla were the epitome of the word ‘diva’. Even after Jessica got knocked up, and she was gaining this horrid back fat, she thought she should get special treatment. It was always, ‘Geo, do this. Geo, do that. Call and cancel here. Get me a job there. I can’t go to work today because of this.’ She was never satisfied with her bookings. But when you start gaining weight around the midsection, modeling opportunities become limited, to say the least.” He blew out a breath in frustration. “I mean, clients only want to use Photoshop so much before the shoot is a total bust.”
“Mm-hmm.” Lacey slowly nodded in false sympathy. “You got tired of it.”
“Of course I did,” he huffed. “Then here comes Brittany, traipsing into the agency one day, catching Beals’ eye, thinking she was God’s gift to us under the circumstances. She somehow knew of our plight over Jessica’s pregnancy. She had the body, but so do half the sorority girls at the University of Washington.”
Maybe the question was too obvious, so soon, but Lacey could tell the man was on a roll, confiding. She wouldn’t stop him now. “Who do you think murdered Jessica and Brittany?”
Geo’s countenance turned dark, his eyes gleaming with unnervingly sure knowledge. He stepped closer to Lacey, so their faces were close to kissing. She quietly gulped, keeping her gaze strong. Finally, he said, “There’s evil all around this city. It can be right in front of you, and you wouldn’t even know it.”
“It can?” she said, wondering if she needed to call Victor, goosebumps dotting the back of her neck. Her gun was more than twenty feet away, in her purse, behind a dressing shade.
An amused smile crept on Geo's face, his usually happy glow returning. “Enough talk about gloom and doom. Put that thing on, and let’s wrap up your shoot, pronto. I’m getting hungry, and there’s a glazed honey ham with my name on it at home.
“If it’s any reassurance,” he quickly added, touching her shoulder, “Jack has very high hopes for you being in the agency. Unless you totally screwed up the test shoot—which you didn’t—I can promise you, you have the job.”
Lacey smiled. Her plan was working. She was employed with better pay, and she’d soon be in the very center of all the murderous drama.
*
Had he still had a body, Victor’s breath would have caught when Teddy stopped at Occidental Park Station. He’d been here before, on occasion, but the historic trolley station had always been just a background to him, its pleasant square of trees providing shade in the summer and a bit of cover from the rains that so often soaked the area.
The area, decorated in its usual winter attire—trees with knit coverings on their trunks, and a few inches of snow—was normally alive with people playing on the outdoor foosball or ping-pong tables, chatting with friends, or grabbing a bite from a food vendor’s truck. Now, it hosted a few passersby—clearly eager to be elsewhere—and a group of maybe a dozen vagrants who were probably just getting warm until a police patrol ousted them. Victor had seen homeless people plenty of times in his life, and was aware of the unfortunate conditions they lived in. But now, he saw them with new eyes, the kind mortals didn’t have.
Victor could feel the way the December cold bit through their worn coats and gnawed at any exposed skin. They didn’t even have the comfort of a 55-gallon drum to start a fire in. Worse, though, was the despair; an almost universal cloak of despair hung over the entire group, like an anchor around the feet of a drowning man. Though every individual had a different aura about them, and some even seemed actually cheery, he could practically taste a sense of hopelessness, with a side of endless worry on the parts of two different mothers who each ushered a child or two. Victor wondered why they hadn’t made their way to one of Seattle’s shelters, but before he could ask, a sick hissing sound scraped at his mind.
Oh, great, he thought, immediately alert. Them.
He hadn’t had to deal with the Legion since he’d finally been taken into Heaven. As a full angel, he’d been shown how to combat them, the way Rao had banished them after the first time they’d attacked him, but he’d been warned that even angels could still fall—as evidenced by Legion—and that the forces of darkness were not to be trifled with.
Shortly, a cluster of the ragged, shadowy figures slid out from behind trees and wrapped themselves around some of the more visibly depressed transients, seeming eager to drain any life or hope out of them.
“Ain’t pretty, is it?” Teddy said, gesturing.
Victor shook his head. “Can you see… them… too?”
Teddy glanced over at Victor. “You mean the bad spirits? The ones that look like starving zombies without faces?”
Victor shuddered at Teddy’s casual tone. “I guess that answers my question.”
Teddy shrugged. “I leave ‘em alone, and they let me be. But maybe you’ll take my point now.”
Victor frowned. “And which point is that?”
Teddy gave Victor a dark smile. “Just wait a while and see. In fact, here comes a perfect example now.” He gestured up the street, and Victor looked. Coming toward them was a well-dressed couple. As they neared the park, the man caught sight of the cluster of vagabonds. He pulled his wife closer and pointed across the street in the direction opposite the park, clearly in an effort to distract her. His free hand went into a pocket, and Victor could sense the man’s desire to keep a tight grip on his wallet as he picked up the pace.
Several pairs of eyes watched the couple; even without his angelic senses, Victor could see the longing in their eyes. One older man in a worn army coat held up a cardboard sign with the usual silent plea for help. Victor felt a small ripple of repulsion tinged with guilt from the well-dressed man as he actively turned his attention fully to his wife. His wife happened to catch sight of the man with the sign, and hesitated. Victor felt her weighing whether or not to give him something, but when her husband tugged
insistently on her arm, her thoughts immediately switched to justifying why she shouldn’t give; Victor vaguely caught the woman’s internal homily about “not supporting laziness, drunkenness, and drug abuse,” as she let her husband pull her onward, away from the disappointed eyes.
Victor frowned. “You brought me here to show me people passing up chances to help the homeless?”
Teddy scoffed. “Spoken like a true rich kid. I bet you had it all, in life, didn’cha? Nice place to live, family support, probably went to some fancy college, had a great job, working car. The whole nine yards.”
Victor made to protest, but stopped at once, realizing that Teddy had more or less accurately described his life.
Teddy smiled coldly. “See, some people just ain’t that fortunate. Sometimes, when you fall on hard times, you don’t get back up. Maybe your dad don’t like you anymore, calls you a lazy bum and says he ain’t gonna help you. Or maybe because you don’t have a mailing address, ain’t nobody wanna hire you on account of you being shiftless and undependable, as they see it.
“It’s like a whirlpool, kid,” he said, walking toward his fellow transients. “One some people never get out of.”
Victor started to follow, but hesitated at the presence of Legion. “But what about homeless shelters? Government assistance? Job programs.”
Teddy barked a sharp laugh. “Have you ever experienced any of those?”
Victor didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so.” Teddy fished in his coat pocket and pulled out some change. He gave it to the guy with the sign. Next, he walked up to the two mothers and spoke quietly with them for a moment before pulling out the pair of ten-dollar bills that had been blown miraculously into his hand just minutes ago. Each woman took the money with a sense of gratitude that, while obviously fatigued, radiated enough through to Victor. He knew that, had he been mortal, he would have choked up at the sight.
Teddy returned to him, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s go, Angel Boy.” Without waiting, he walked off down main, and back toward the pier. Victor followed, keenly aware that Legion had noticed him and was watching, if warily.
