Remains of the Day

Collin slid down in the passenger seat. Wedging his head between the seat and the doorframe, he stretched as much as possible and grimaced at the ache in his legs. “I told you we should have taken the SUV.”

From behind the wheel, Lacy asked, “With gas prices the way they are?” She let that sink in a moment before adding, “You’d probably be more comfortable in the back. We could put the bags up here.”

The highway slipped past them in the washed-out pastels of the dawn breaking behind them.

“Honey?” Lacy prodded. “Do you want me to pull over so you can climb in the back? You must be tired. You drove all night.”

Silence.

“Honey?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Collin snapped. He grimaced again and put his left hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry, Babe. I’m just –“

“Worried,” she finished for him. “I know, Sweetheart. But we’ll be there soon. Another hour at most. It’d be nice if you could get a few minutes of rest before – well – your brother – “ She reached for the stale bottled water in the console and sipped at it. “Someone needs to be thinking straight when we get there.”

“Brent is fine, he’ll be fine.” Collin sighed. “He’s always pulling this shit. It started in high school. He gets everyone upset and we all come running. It’s what he does.”

“Oh, shit, I hate that,” Lacy cried. She moved the car closer to the center line.

“What?”

“Something dead.”

Collin stared at her, his tired mind trying to decode her words.

Lacy glanced at him. “In the road,” she explained. “Something dead. I’m not looking, I’m not looking, I’m not looking.”

She was such a softy for animals. It was one of Lacy’s qualities that toppled Collin from lust into love several years earlier. He smiled a little and squeezed her thigh again as he turned to look out the window.

A blackened, dirty smear of blood in their lane, something round by the fog line on the right. A raccoon?

Collin stared at the dead thing as the car rushed past it. He sat up a little and shook his head as if to clear it. “Lacy,” he began softly, “what did that look like to you?”

“I told you, I didn’t look. I never look. What if it was a dog? I don’t want to see that. If it was a dog, I’d cry.”

“It wasn’t a dog.” Collin’s lips felt numb. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but – it had an ear. And a neck.”

“Gawd, don’t tell me,” she cried. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Lacy.” Collin pondered for a moment before adding, “Lacy, it looked like a head.”

She made a wry face. “Christ on a pony, Collin.”

“No, seriously. It had an ear. It looked like a head. You know. A human head.”

She glanced at him again. “This is a joke, right? ‘What’s that in the road, a head?’ Right? Ha ha ha. Very amusing.” She didn’t sound amused.

Collin reached for her bottled water and took a deep drink. “I must be really tired.”

“The back seat – “ she reminded him.

He waved off the suggestion. “I can’t sleep. Maybe some music.” He fumbled for the remote and switched on the CD player. Rhianna came blasting back at him and he quickly switched it off again. “Christ on a pony is right,” he sighed.

An enormous oak loomed on the side of the road ahead, denuded of leaves but still towering in defiance of the otherwise-empty Midwestern landscape. Collin watched it approach. “Funny,” he remarked.

“What?”

“That tree. It’s limbs look like arms.”

“Limbs look like limbs,” Lacy said, then giggled. “It’s got great composition. If you want to get your camera, I’ll pull over.”

“No, no. Let’s just get there and get this over with.” Collin sighed again. “Fucking Brent. He probably stopped taking his meds.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine like you said.”

Collin stared at the tree as it ran up on his side of the car. “He’s an assho- Fucking shit! Fucking shit, Lace!”

The little car swerved in the lane. “What?” Lacy cried. “What? What the fuck, Collin?”

He pressed his hands and face against the window as they zoomed past the tree. “I don’t believe this.”

“What?” Lacy cried again. “You almost made me wreck the car!”

Collin unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around in the seat, kneeling on it. “There was a leg in that tree, Lacy.”

“Oh my god, you are so full of shit!”

“No, no, I’m serious! There was a fucking leg hanging over one of the branches! Swear to Christ, Lacy!” He stared out of the rear window as the tree retreated. “It had a tattoo on the calf.”

Her lower lip began to tremble. “You’re scaring me, Collin.”

He flipped around back into a seated position. “You gotta turn around.”

“No way.”

“Lacy, I swear, there was a leg in that tree!”

Lacy’s mouth was set into a tight frown. “I told you to get some sleep, but no. You had to go and be a big urban fucking cowboy, driving practically all the way here by yourself. Now you’re seeing things. Great.”

Collin stared at the road ahead. She’s right, he thought. I’m tired. I’m just overtired and stressed out. He ran a hand over his face. “If Brent hasn’t killed himself, I swear I’m going to kick his ass.”

“Just be calm, honey. Please? Stop this shit and just be calm. We’ll be there really soon.”

He let out a deep sigh and slumped back down in the seat. “This is so messed up. I hate my brother.”

“No, you don’t, Honey,” Lacy crooned. “If you didn’t love him, you wouldn’t be so worried. Just calm down. We’re almost there.”

Collin stared at the stark barbwire that separated the highway from the emptiness beyond. “I can’t believe I took off work for this.”

“That’s what I love about you,” Lacy assured him. “You have a huge heart.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt as he watched the triple strand fence to their right. What was it for, he wondered? What did it keep in? Or, what did it keep out? And who was responsible for stringing it across these empty miles?

There was something dangling from the fence just ahead. A broken fence pole, Collin thought. Maybe Lacy was right, maybe he should get out his camera. He fumbled behind his seat and came up with the case, but it was going to be too late. They’d be past it in a minute.

Collin watched the broken piece of pole suspended in the unforgiving wire as they approached it. Damn, he thought, that almost looks like a wrist.

“Fucking shit! Fucking shit!”

The little car swerved again. This time, Lacy was screaming. “God damn it, Collin, stop that shit! What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to get us killed?”

Collin turned and stared straight ahead.

“Collin? Collin?”

He looked at her. “That was an arm, Lace. That was a fucking arm.”

She stared back at him, heedless of the road. Her normally tanned skin was blanched of color. “Collin,” she croaked hoarsely, “Babe. You’ve got to keep it together.”

“It had a tattoo. I saw it. It had a USMC bulldog on the bicep.”

“Collin, you’re – “

“I fucking saw it, Lace,” he shouted.

She turned her face back to the road, silent.

“You gotta believe me!”

“No, no, I don’t,” she hissed. “Just do me a favor, Collin, and keep your ass in that seat and close your fucking eyes until we get there. Okay? Okay? Or is that too much to fucking ask?” She was screeching by that point. Drops of spit flew from her lower lip.

Collin stared at her. “Babe – “

“No, fuck you!” she screamed. “You’re losing it, Collin! Just sit down and shut up or I swear I’ll turn this car around and we’ll go back to Chicago! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Christ, I’m losing it. Like Brent. Like Mom. Lacy is right, I’m losing it.

The remaining miles were passed in silence until Lacy maneuvered the car off the road down a dirt driveway. She saw the emergency vehicles parked in front of Brent’s ramshackle trailer. She saw half a dozen dogs milling around the EMTs, their tails wagging, begging for attention.

“Oh, god,” she moaned.

Collin opened his eyes.

The car was still rolling when Collin jumped out and ran toward his sister. She was dressed in almost nothing in spite of the frigid Autumn air and there was a new tattoo carved across her décolletage.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her shaking. “Brent?” he asked.

His sister shook her head. “I don’t know, Coll, I don’t know,” she sobbed. “They say there’s a suicide note. I didn’t see any fucking note, but I got here first and there’s so much blood. Oh, Coll, there’s so much blood!”

Lacy came up behind them and gently peeled away Collin’s weeping sister. A uniformed policeman approached them.

“Officer,” Collin said to him, “What – I’m his brother – what’s going on?”

The officer shook his head and turned to gesture at another man in Dockers and a button-down shirt who was walking out of the trailer. Collin took a staggering step toward the civies-attired stranger who had suddenly become the most important person in Collin’s shrinking world. “Sir? Sir?”

The man stopped and asked, “Are you family?”

“I’m his brother,” Collin answered.

The man sighed. “Your brother left a note that indicates suicide, but – “ He stopped.

“But?” Collin cried. “But what? For Christ’s sake – “

“There’s no body,” the man interrupted.

Collin took a step backward. “No body? What does that mean? How can it be a suicide if there’s no body?”

The man stared at him while producing a card that he shoved into Collin’s numb hand. Collin stared at it. County Coroner.

“I don’t understand,” Collin said.

“There’s no body, just the note and, well, some evidence.” The Coroner regarded Collin suspiciously. “When did you arrive?”

Collin nodded. He could hear his sister’s breathless sobs from somewhere behind him. “We just got here. We drove all night.”

The Coroner moved in closer and dropped his voice. “We have a note indicating a suicide. It seems to match the handwriting of several journals and other pieces of writing your brother left behind, but we’ll have an expert look more closely at that, of course. That wouldn’t be a necessity except for the other evidence.”

“Which is?” Collin prompted. He glanced over the Coroner’s shoulder and watched the other officers as they ignored his brother’s insistent pack of dogs.

“The bathtub. And the saw.”

Collin stared at him.

“It would appear that a body has been dismembered in the bathtub,” the Coroner said softly.

One of the dogs barked and reared up on its hind legs, begging for a pet or a treat. One of the policemen stopped to stroke its shaggy head.

Head.

Collin felt a chuckle rise up in his stomach. He tried to swallow it, but just when he thought he’d conquered his mirth, it exploded out of his mouth. He was aware that everyone was staring at him, but he couldn’t stop. He bellowed laughter. He doubled over with it, then fell to the ground howling.

“Collin!” Lacy ran to bend over him. “Collin! Honey, what is it?”

“His head,” Collin roared, wiping tears from his cheeks. “His head! And his arm and his leg, too!”

The Coroner gestured for an EMT. “Sir, you’re in shock. Let this medic take a look at you.”

Collin waved the EMT off, chortling. He pushed Lacy away and rose unsteadily to his feet. Only Brent. A suicide. Scattered body parts. The ultimate conundrum.

Taking a deep breath, giggling once more, Collin straightened up. He cleared his throat. “I believe I know where you can find the body.”

Black Box

There was screaming in the coach cabin, a soprano to the scream of the engines’ contralto. Miranda realized the folks in the rear cabin had a better view.

She clung to the armrests and breathed in the general panic. Before the cabin went dark, she’d seen the faces of the flight attendants as they strapped themselves into jump seats. One young female attendant was weeping. The other attendant, a slightly older man, strapped himself in with deceptive calm, as if he was participating in a drill of some sort. His nonchalance didn’t fool Miranda. She’d seen the look on his face. Acceptance. Inevitability. That’s when it hit home: They weren’t going to land in Oslo.

The frigid Norwegian Sea was below them and that was as far as this plane was going. Return your seats to an upright position and check the overhead bins for personal belongings before deplaning.

Miranda turned in her seat and pressed her face to the small window. The starboard wing was aflame, brilliant in the dusky sky.

She felt a slight touch on her hand and glanced at the passenger beside her. Carefully coiffed and impeccably dressed, the older woman raised her eyebrows.

Miranda shook her head.

The woman nodded. Taking her hand from Miranda’s, she reached into her jacket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. Mind if I – ?

Might as well, Miranda’s eyes responded.

Oxygen masks with their ridiculous yellow cups fell and dangled. The female flight attendant already had a portable oxygen unit in place to cover her sobs. Her male counterpart did not. He stared inexorably ahead, one of his hands on each of his knees.

No smoking, no smoking, the tiny LED alerts blinked above their seats. Miranda exchanged an amused glance with the woman beside her who sat with the unlit cigarette between her lips, shuddering. The cigarette. The woman. The plane. Shuddering.

Miranda looked out the window one last time and thought about her family, her job, her dog, her car payment, her potted plants…

Thank God I’m not in coach. There are children back there. There are babies. If I was back there I’d –

The Island of Lost Things: Oregon

Turn right in 200 feet.

Cody took his foot from the Navigator’s accelerator and peered at the darkness beyond the rainy windshield. There were no road signs and nothing indicated an impending crossroad.

Turn right in 100 feet.

He turned the wipers on high and stared at the trees to his right. Still no indication of a road ahead.

Turn right in 50 feet.

“I don’t see shit, Brittany.” Cody had named her Brittany. He harbored fantasies about Brittany and her smooth, unshakably confident voice riding his cock as they maneuvered unknown byways together.

Turn right in 25 feet. Pause. Recalculating.

“Fuck!”

There was nothing, only an unbroken expanse of pines on either side of Cody’s vehicle. He glanced in the rearview out of habit, not because he expected to see headlights behind him on this dark stretch of Oregon road, not in some perverse hope that another driver would come along to guide him.

Make a legal U-Turn at the next opportunity.

“Oh, Brittany, you bitch. You know Chelsea, don’t you?” Cody suspected they were best friends, this sexy, disembodied GPS voice and his ex-wife. He struck the steering wheel the palms of both hands. “Oh, fuck my life.” He was suddenly reminded of Stephen King’s short story, “You Know They Got a Hell of a Band”.

Recalculating.

“Recalculate all you want, you twat.”

Something flashed reflective green and Cody automatically tapped the brake pedal. “Is that a road?” he asked the night.

Turn right in 50 feet.

“Yes!”

Cody swung the big SUV off the paved highway and onto a graveled road lined with spindly lodgepole pines. He gave the accelerator an encouraging boost. He felt the rear tires slide a bit in warning, but gave them a tad bit of gas in defiance.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Cody hissed, turning into his slight spin and righting the vehicle on its eastward path. “We’re doing it now.”

Pines closed in on both sides, but he felt a surge of relief. “We’re on our way, you slut.”

You have arrived at your destination.

Cody put an unconscious foot on the brake pedal, staring at the weak trees around him. “What the fuck.”

The Navigator crept slowly forward to a point where the road ended and the forest of skinny tree trunks blocked path ahead.

“This is not happening.”

He hit the dome light and, stretching his travel-weary muscles, reached for the Rand-McNally Road Atlas under the passenger seat. Cody sighed, “I fucking hate you, Brittany.”

Don’t be hatin’, Cody. You have arrived at your destination.

Cody forgot about the atlas and sat up straight. He stared at the GPS. “What?”

I said, don’t be hatin’, Cody. You have arrived at your destination.

Cody rubbed his face with both hands. I’ve been awake too long. Too many miles and too many hours. Maybe I should take a nap here, then figure it out in a few hours.

You have arrived at your destination.

Cody stared.

Asshole.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m over tired.”

He reached for the handle and swung the heavy Navigator door open into the dank Oregon forest.

Sales already?!?

Considering that we’re still 6 days away from the launch of The Glendale Witch, I’m not sure how it’s possible but the Kindle version is flying off the shelves.  Good thing there’s an unlimited supply!

Seriously, I have no clue who sneaked over to Amazon to avail themselves of the unlaunched ebook, but I’m extremely flattered and humbled.  Whoever you are, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  Remember to post a review – what you liked, what you didn’t like, whether or not you’d like to see the sequel.

Thank you!

The Conjure Woman of Bayou Torte

This is one of my longest short stories, published last year at a site that is now defunct.  So here it is again for those who didn’t get the chance to read it at the original site and who might have an interest in finding out what happens when a city woman meets a swamp witch.  Enjoy!

 

The first item on Chrissy Plangenet’s to-do list was calling the city about that eyesore of a house down the street. She just moved into a lovely home on Bayou Torte and there were unpacked boxes stacked in her kitchen. Nonetheless, reporting that ramshackle place she was forced to drive past every day came first. She had her priorities straight in her own mind; the boxes could wait.

Three days of incessant, insistent phone calls later, a city inspector came out to the neighborhood. Chrissy stood on her manicured lawn and watched with satisfaction as the inspector fought tall weeds on his walk around the old house. He almost broke his leg on the rotten wooden porch stairs as he went up to deliver a notice of violation.

A woman with tangles of blonde hair opened the torn screen door and spoke with him. Chrissy couldn’t hear what was said, but she relished the scene when the inspector tore a sheet of paper off his pad and handed it to the woman.

Chrissy invited her work colleagues, some friends from her sorority days at LSU, as well as almost all of her new neighbors to a housewarming party that weekend. She had no desire to meet the person who lived in the battered, offensive old house, so of course no invitation was issued in that direction. However, she took special care to invite the handsome Sheriff’s Deputy who lived three houses down.

The party started off as a great success. Chrissy took particular pleasure in showing her tastefully furnished house to the neighbors. She encouraged them to enjoy the lavish buffet catered by Chez Maurice, delivered all the way down from Baton Rouge. The wine was flowing, the music properly muted, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time until the doorbell rang.

“Ya’ll just go ahead and make yourselves at home,” Chrissy said over her shoulder. “Mi casa, and all that.”

She opened the door and gaped in surprise. There, right there on Chrissy’s porch in front of God and everyone else, was the woman who lived in the old house.

“I heard you were having a housewarming,” the uninvited neighbor said.  Her blue eyes, as pale as the washed-out cotton sundress she wore, regarded Chrissy with genuine warmth. She held out a plate covered with plastic wrap. “I brought you some of my homemade cheese bread.”

Chrissy stared at the woman and at the bread held out to her like an offering. She shifted her wine glass to her other hand and took the plate. “Why, thank you ever so much. Aren’t you sweet?”   Then, using the toe of her patent leather pump, she pushed the door closed.

Beth Harding from across the street stopped in the act of spearing braised asparagus onto her plate.  “Chrissy, was that – “

“Oh, it was that dreadful girl from downstreet,” Chrissy said. She dumped the bread, plate and all, into the garbage. “I swear, I don’t know what she had on her feet, but I believe it was clogs. Can you believe that? Clogs!”

Beth set her plate down and pulled Chrissy aside. “What I can’t believe is that you just shut the door in her face.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Chrissy laughed again. “You didn’t expect me to invite her in, did you?”

Todd from the house next door sauntered across the kitchen.  His face was happily flushed with wine.  “What are you two lovely ladies conspiring about?”

Beth looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Chrissy just slammed the door in Paulette Delacroix’s face.”

The wine hadn’t made Todd that happy. He immediately looked as concerned as Beth.   “You shut the door on her, Chrissy?”

“Why, of course I did. She wasn’t invited.”

Simultaneously, her two neighbors repeated, aghast, “She wasn’t invited?”

Chrissy stared at them as if they had lost their minds. “Of course not. I can’t believe she had the gall to show up here with her plate of – whatever that mess was. If she knew it was me who turned her into the city…” She trailed off, taking a sip of her wine.

“You did not,” Beth hissed.

“Of course I did. I can’t believe no one’s complained about that abomination of an abode long before I came along.” She started to take another sip of wine, but something in their faces stopped her. “What’s wrong with ya’ll?”

Todd shook his head. “Hasn’t anyone told you about her?”

Chrissy looked from one to the other and at Mariel Jenkins who had wandered over to listen. “What about her?”

“Honey, you’re aware that you’re living in Delacroix Parrish, right?” Todd asked.

“So?”

“So, the Delacroix family has lived here for upwards of two hundred years. That old house Paulette lives in was built by her great-grandfather when there was nothing for fifty miles ‘round except swamp and gators.”

Chrissy snorted. “And it looks like it, too.”

Beth leaned forward and touched Chrissy’s wrist just above the lovely crystal bracelet that glimmered there. “The Delacroix females have always been conjure-women.”

It was Chrissy’s turn to stare in disbelief. “Ya’ll are kidding me. You can’t seriously believe that woman is a swamp witch.” She laughed, but there wasn’t much amusement in it.

Mariel joined in. “Serious as a heart attack, girl. Why do you think none of us have ever complained about that house? It’s not smart, that’s why.”

Rob, the handsome Deputy, poked his chiseled face over Mariel’s shoulder. “Holding a Neighborhood Watch meeting here in the kitchen?” he teased.

Chrissy tossed her auburn hair over one shoulder. “Not without the strongest, bravest man on the block.” She glanced at the others, then linked her arm through Rob’s and walked away.

* * * * *

The waspish buzz of a lawnmower woke Chrissy early on Sunday morning a week later. She rolled over with a groan. She’d enjoyed a wonderful dinner and far too much wine with Rob the night before, and her head was pounding.

“Oh, what in the hell,” she muttered.

Throwing on a robe, Chrissy staggered to the front door. The whine of the lawnmower down the street assaulted her aching head, but it was forgotten the moment she got a good look outside.

Chrissy wandered down the cement walkway in shock. Swoops and swirls of blanched grass were burned into her lovely yard. The stench of ammonia filled the air. It looked and smelled like some impossibly large giant had unzipped and taken an enormous piss, perhaps trying to write his name on her lawn.

The landscaper who responded to Chrissy’s frantic call couldn’t explain it. “It can’t be that your water is bad.  All ya’ll are on city water and your neighbors aren’t affected.” He pointed down the street to the old Delacroix house. The lawn there had been mowed back, the weeds removed, and the grass shone green as emeralds. “See? It’s just your yard.”

She glared at the old house. She could almost picture that Delacroix woman sneaking over in the middle of the night, pouring some sort of industrial cleanser on Chrissy’s perfect lawn. “That bitch,” she hissed.

It took several more days of calling, but when the inspector arrived on the block a second time, Chrissy moved a chaise lounge onto her yellowed front lawn to watch as he cited Paulette Delacroix again. As the inspector drove away, Paulette turned to look upstreet. Chrissy smiled and waved.

Coming home from work the next day, Chrissy slowed to look at the painters who were busy on the Delacroix home. From a weathered, dismal gray, the boards of the old place were slowly being transformed to a pale peach. Paulette Delacroix waved happily at Chrissy from the porch.

Todd was standing in his yard when Chrissy pulled into her driveway. He nodded towards the Delacroix house. “Really starting to shape up, isn’t it?”

Chrissy remarked, “If she’s got enough money to paint that monstrosity, you’d think she’d do something with her hair.”

“Some of us got together and had it painted for her,” Todd said. “I’ve been sending my stepson over to work on the lawn.” He shrugged at Chrissy’s look of disbelief. “We saw what happened to your yard.”

Slamming the car door shut, she snapped, “It wasn’t some sort of hex, Todd. That bitch ruined my grass with a bottle of ammonia, plain and simple.”

Todd sipped his can of beer and shrugged again. “If you say so.”

Chrissy stalked up the walkway and let herself into the house. “Ignorant Cajun fools,” she muttered, completely ignoring the fact that multiple Boudreaux poled her family pirogue, so to speak.

As she set her briefcase on a side table she became aware of an eye-watering odor.  A litter of small white tuffs decorated the slate floor. “What in the world?” Chrissy stepped around the corner into the living room and screeched.

At least a dozen cats froze in the act of disemboweling Chrissy’s ornate throw pillows. A white cat, two calicos, a tabby and a handful of others – her living room was full of cats, and they were destroying her furniture. The stench of their urine stung her throat.

Chrissy shrieked again as Todd came thundering through the front door. He pulled up to a stop behind her so quickly that his beer sloshed onto the carpet. “What in the hell?” he cried. “Damn! What’s that smell?”

The cats dashed as a group over the furniture. There was a small pet door in the kitchen – the mark of a previous tenant – and they all leaped gracefully through it.

“Cats!” Chrissy screamed. The pet door flapped behind the last cat’s tail, and then swung silently back and forth in a diminishing arc. ” Cats!  I hate animals!”

Todd walked over to the kitchen door and pointed. “Then why do you have a doggy door?”

Infuriated, Chrissy stomped her foot.  The heel broke off one of her shoes and she fell, landing plumply on her rear amidst the mass of pillow entrails.

“Are you alright?”  Todd ran over and leaned down to help her up, spilling beer over her shoulder and down the front of her silky blouse.

Chrissy had never been so angry. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Shrugging off Todd’s hands, she stalked out the front door. Her screams had gathered several other neighbors on the sidewalk and they watched in amazement as the sophisticated redhead clomped clumsily – one heel up, one heel down – toward Paulette Delacroix’s house.

Mariel Jenkins stared at Todd as he emerged from Chrissy’s house. “What happened?”

Todd shrugged. “She’s got too many cats, I guess.”

“That could be why her yard died, you know,” someone remarked sagely. “Urine. You’d think a woman like that would know better than to keep too many cats.”

“Some women are obsessed with them,” another neighbor opined.

Chrissy came to a halt in front of the Delacroix house. A dozen or so neighbors gathered in a semi-circle behind her. “You,” she screamed shrilly, “Get out here!”

The newly repaired screen door opened and Paulette Delacroix appeared. Her mouth dropped open. “Why, what happened to you?” she asked. “Are you alright? Do you want to come in?  I’ll help you – “

“Help me!” Chrissy screamed. “You want to help me?” She pointed an accusatory finger at the blonde. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I don’t know how you’ve got the others bamboozled? Well, you don’t fool me one bit, sister.”

Paulette stared at Chrissy as if the woman had lost her mind; which, indeed, seemed a possibility at that moment.

“I know what you did to my yard,” Chrissy hissed. Her voice had become low and dangerous. “And I know it was you who put all your damned cats in my house. Let me tell you right now, you frumpy bitch, I won’t stand for it. Do you hear me? I’m calling the police and then I’m filing a lawsuit against you. And if that doesn’t do the trick, I’ll be over here to kick your ass twelve different ways to Sunday. Do you understand me?”

The small crowd of neighbors parted quickly to let Chrissy stomp through them – up-down-up-down on her broken shoe. She stopped in the center of the street and angrily kicked off both of her shoes before continuing barefoot towards her house.

“That wasn’t real smart,” someone whispered, “antagonizing the Delacroix woman like that.”

Up on the porch, Paulette held her hands out blamelessly. “I don’t have any cats.”

The call to the police didn’t produce the results Chrissy expected. After listening to her frantic story, the two officers strolled down the street to the Delacroix house. When they returned, they declined to go back inside with the overpowering smell of cat urine, choosing instead to stand on the sidewalk. Chrissy stood with Rob beside her; one of his strong arms hugged her shoulders reassuringly.

“You realize that Ms. Delacroix doesn’t have any cats,” the older policeman pointed out.

“So she says,” Chrissy snapped. She wiped at her eyes which were burning as much from angry tears as from the smell of urine clinging to her clothes.

“There’s nothing to indicate this is anything other than an animal control issue,” the second officer said, “at least when it comes to the cats. However, there’s the harassment issue to consider.”

“Yes,” Chrissy exclaimed. “Exactly! That woman has been harassing me since I moved in.”

“I mean your harassment of her,” the officer said. He looked steadily at the redhead. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but it’s against the law to threaten people.”

Chrissy’s mouth fell open. “She ruined my lawn and my living room!”

The first officer spoke up again. “There’s no evidence that Ms. Delacroix has been anything other than welcoming since you moved into the neighborhood.”

“You’re lucky she doesn’t want to pursue this,” the second officer added. “We recommended a protective order against you.”

“Against me?” Chrissy couldn’t believe her ears.

Rob squeezed her shoulders. “She’s had a run of real bad luck this week, guys,” he said. “She’s shook up. You understand.”

They both nodded but looked unconvinced. “Just stay on your side of the street, Ms. Plangenet,” the older one said. “If we’re called out here again, I’ll recommend charges to the D.A.’s office whether or not your neighbor wants to file a complaint.”

Chrissy turned to Rob as the officers walked away. “Can’t you do something?”

He shook his head. “We’re within city limits and I’m County. Sorry.” He released her shoulder and gestured towards to house. “What I can do, though, is tear up that carpet and get it out before you get sick. You can’t sleep in a house with that smell. You’d better call your insurance agent.”

She turned and stared at the Delacroix house, and was sure she saw a curtain move on the second floor. You’d better be watching, she thought. You’ve made an enemy of the wrong person.

Chrissy was determined to get revenge. Whatever she did, it had to be good. It had to be something that would get the message across to that plain, countrified Delacroix woman. Something to prove once and for all that she’d picked the wrong person to mess with.

She was still plotting her vengeance three days later when her garage caught on fire.

* * * * *

The interior of Chrissy’s home was shrouded in Visqueen. Sheets of thick, cloudy plastic hung in the entrance to the living room, shielding the rest of the house from the pervasive stench of cat urine, which had soaked through into the wooden sub-floor. Several more sheets hung over the door that led from the kitchen to the garage to tamp the odor of stale smoke.

Chrissy sat at the dining room table, staring moodily into space while her insurance agent thumbed through a sheaf of paperwork. Beth Harding sat beside her, holding her hand. Chrissy barely noticed. She didn’t want comfort. She wanted to kill Paulette Delacroix.

“It actually falls under your car insurance coverage, Ms. Plangenet,” the agent was saying, “since it was technically your SUV that caught fire.” The balding man shook his head. “The fire inspector said you must have driven over a piece of newspaper. The paper got sucked up under the engine, you pulled into your garage, the paper ignited, and, well, you know the rest of the story. The good news is that your policy will cover a car rental until yours is repaired or declared a total loss, which is more than likely.” He looked at Chrissy and shook his head again. “I have to say, I’ve never seen such a run of bad luck.”

Beth patted Chrissy’s unresponsive hand. “She’s been through so much.”

Nothing compared to what that Delacroix woman will be going through, Chrissy thought.

It was almost nine o’clock when the insurance agent finally left. Beth Harding saw him to the door and went out onto the sidewalk to confer with Mariel Jenkins.

“It’s the most extraordinary thing,” Beth whispered.

“It’s not extraordinary at all,” Mariel argued. “We told her not to mess with Paulette. We warned her. You just don’t go around starting trouble with a witch.”

“I have no idea why she just wouldn’t make peace – ” Beth broke off as the front door opened behind her.

Chrissy walked out into the night air. Shoeless, swaddled in sweat pants and a faded tee shirt, carrying a gas can, she walked blindly past the other women.

“Hon?” Beth queried nervously. “What are you doing?”

Chrissy turned and gave her a ghastly smile. She held up a lighter. “I’m gonna burn Paulette Delacroix. That’s what you do to witches, isn’t it?”

Mariel went running toward her own house. “Phil! Phil, get out here! Chrissy Plangenet has lost her mind!”

Beth ran after Chrissy. “You don’t want to do this,” she pleaded. “You’ll wind up in jail as sure as I’m standing here.”

“I don’t care,” Chrissy answered. She stared at the Delacroix house with its manicured lawn and fresh paint. “It’ll be worth it.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Beth shouted. She put her hands on Chrissy’s shoulders, then drew them back and shrieked.

Startled, Chrissy turned to look. Beth was holding up her hands.  Laced around her fingers were auburn tresses. Chrissy dropped the gas can and reached for her hair. She began to pull away long handfuls. “No!” she screamed. “No, no, no, no, no!”

It took four of the neighborhood husbands to subdue Chrissy until the ambulance arrived.

* * * * *

The repairs on the house were complete by the time Chrissy was released from the hospital. She stood in the foyer, looking at the hardwood floor that had been installed in place of carpet. Later that afternoon, Beth was going to drive her downtown to get a much-needed manicure and pedicure before heading over to the dealership to pick up a new SUV. Then everything would be back in order. Well, almost everything. There was one more thing she had to take care of.

She picked up the blue cardboard cake box from Chez Maurice and walked outside. Chrissy hadn’t gotten where she was in life by being stupid, and she certainly hadn’t affected her release from the hospital by any lack of brains. She told the doctors what they wanted to hear: That she had been the victim of several unfortunate coincidences. That stray cats ruined her living room and an errant piece of newspaper started the fire. That it was all just a sad series of unconnected events. That she had not been cursed by a swamp witch.

That’s what she told the doctors, but she knew better.

If the Delacroix house looked lovely and amazing, Paulette looked even more so. She opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch, her blonde hair cascading thickly over her shoulders. Her smooth bosom swelled in the v-neck of a silky dress.

“Chrissy,” Paulette exclaimed softly.  “I’m so glad that you’re out of the hospital.  Are you feeling better?”

I had no idea she was so pretty, the redhead thought. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “I need to apologize.”

“Whatever for?”

Chrissy held out the cake box as a sort of offering. “I was unkind to you when I first moved in, very unkind. I’d like the chance to start over.”

Paulette took the box and smiled. “It’s all water under the bridge, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Chrissy’s mouth was drier than her medications could account for. “So, you’ll take it off?”

“Take what off?”

“The curse.”

The two women stood on the porch, staring at each other. There was a long silence, then Chrissy continued, “Just take the curse off.  Please. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never bother you again. I’d like to be – well, I’d like to be friends. Just take the curse off.”

Paulette turned to go inside, but Chrissy’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “Ms. Plangenet, you’re hurting me.”

“Just take the damn spell off!” Chrissy hissed. “I know what you are. I know. Everyone was right. You’re a swamp witch, a conjure woman. Please take the spell off. I promise I’ll never say another word against you.”

Rob, the handsome deputy, appeared in the doorway behind Paulette. His hands came down lovingly on the blonde’s shoulders. “Is everything alright, darling?”

Paulette nodded. “Everything is fine, sweetheart.” She continued to stare at Chrissy. “Ms. Plangenet, I’m Roman Catholic.” She reached for the gold chain around her neck and pulled a crucifix out of her ample cleavage. “Isn’t this lovely? Rob bought it for me. Turns out that he’s Catholic, too.”

Chrissy stared in disbelief. “You and Rob –  ”

Rob stepped out and shut the front door behind him. “We’re going to be late for mass, pumpkin.”

Paulette smiled at Chrissy. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it? But I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” She stepped down the porch with her arm linked through Rob’s.

Chrissy shook her head. “So, you’re not – “

Paulette stopped. “Not what, Chrissy?”

“You’re not a witch?”

Rob and Paulette laughed gaily. “I’ll go start the car,” he said.

Paulette watched Rob walk away, then turned to Chrissy.  She tucked the crucifix back between her breasts. “Surely you know there’s no such thing as witches.” She winked. “By the way, it’s a shame you’ll be moving. You will be moving, of course.  Bad things just keep happening to you here on Bayou Torte.”

Chrissy watched the Delacroix woman saunter down the sidewalk, dropping the cake box into the garbage can on the way.

Shame on me!

I can’t believe it’s been a month and a half since I’ve blogged.  What a waste of empty blogosphere space.  Not that I have anything incredible or profound to contribute, it’s just the principle of the thing.  It’s just like all of those blank canvases of mine that stare at me from beside my boxes of paint every time I walk into the back room.  They scream at me:  Create!  Create!  Will ya just create, fercryinoutloud!

Actually, I’ve been creating.  The past month or so has been devoted to getting my book, The Glendale Witch, ready for launch.  We’re closing in now.  Eleven days to go.  The print and the ebook manuscripts looks perfect.  My SO and an extraordinary writer in his own right, Mickey Mills, designed a fabulous cover and is handling all my technical issues such as the official website, getting the ebook up on Amazon and Smashwords, and also doing the lion’s share of the marketing.

The launch is Oct. 13th.  Seems like an auspicious date to launch a book about a witch, does it not?

“Witch” me luck!

Heaven’s Shine – End Game

Gabriel froze as he felt the ground beneath him shudder.  A quick look at Michael and the others convinced him that they were all feeling it.  Shine gripped him frantically around the waist and he could feel Sarah’s hand on one of his wings.

“What’s happening?” Shine cried.

Before Gabriel could answer, the entire landscape was overwhelmed with a low, fierce rumbling.  The sky erupted into a solid ceiling of flame and a searing hot wind blasted across them all.

“It’s a sirocco,” Gabe shouted.  He struggled for a word the humans would understand.  “It’s a ghibli, a leveche.”

“It’s a hot fucking wind,” Az supplied, “and it means big trouble.”

“It’s a precursor,” Gabe said.

“A precursor to what?” Sarah asked, shouting to be heard over the primeval roar of wind and fire.

Before he could answer, a massive pillar of flame descended from overhead and touched down in the center of the area, practically blinding them all with its radiance.

Az spun around and drew his wings over his head, cringing away from the fiery light.  The other demons were scattered like leaves in the wind, blown out of the light and into the dark recesses of the landscape, their roars of outrage and fear growing steadily more faint until the Dark Ones disappeared completely and took their complaints with them.

Michael sheathed his sword and, with the company of other archangels, turned to face the pillar with his head bowed.

The wind stopped as suddenly as it began and out of the pillar of fire stepped a creature with six fiery wings.  One set of wings was crossed over its golden head, another set crossed in front of its body, and the third set – larger than the others – jutted from its shoulder blades and flapped slowly, continuously.

The creature glanced briefly at the archangels before approaching Gabriel and the others.  It stopped several yards away as if aware that its fierce light would harm the humans.  It stared solemnly at Gabriel for a moment, then Shine, then Sarah and Tawny, and finally Roni.

When it spoke it had the voice of ten people combined, some male, some female, some which weren’t even human.  “And so you have come,” it said.

“What is that?” Sarah hissed.

Shine stared in awe.  “It’s a seraph.  It’s one of the highest order of angels in heaven.  It’s like the boss of all angels.”

Gabriel motioned for the girls to be quiet.  He returned the seraph’s gaze with a steady look of determination.  “I know I can’t win, Metatron,” he said, “but I’ll still fight you.  You’ll have to kill me to get to the child.”

The seraph nodded.  “You are truly a wonder, Gabriel,” Metatron said.  “I am gratified to be chosen for this task.”

Knowing the futility of trying to fight the seraph, Gabe waved his sword nonetheless and said, “Then come try it, Metatron.  I won’t go easily.”

Metatron gestured.  “Put away the weapon, Archangel.  There will be no more fighting here today.”

He turned to the group of archangels.  “Michael, step forward.”

Michael raised his head and stepped proudly toward the seraph.  “I am here, Most High One,” he said.

The seraph regarded him stoically.  “Michael, you have been the Father’s best soldier since the beginning of time.  You have performed tasks for the Father which were so egregious that your brethren shied away.  You are the best of your kind.  But you are blind in your obedience.”

Michael looked at the seraph in surprise.  “But Most High One –“ he began.

“Search your heart,” Metatron interrupted.  “Tell me of one instance when events took place that were outside the will of the Father.  Tell me of one instance when events unfolded in a way unexpected to the Father.”

Searching the ground as if the answer was somewhere around his feet, Michael remained silent.

“You called Gabriel disobedient,” Metatron continued.  “Is there no room in your philosophy for those who carry out the will of the Father, even when they aren’t aware that they do so?  Even when it seems in contrast to what you perceive as His holy will?”

Metatron turned back to the bloodied, tattered group pressed tightly around Gabriel.  “Some souls sent to teach the population were unprotected.  Not so with this child.  The Father tried you, Gabriel.  He tested you and you prevailed.  You were sent to protect the child and you have done so.  She has divine purpose in her world and will live to fulfill it.”

Reaching out his fiery hand, Metatron pointed at Shine.  “The child has the women now, the mystic and the mother.  They surround her and will protect and teach her how to survive in their world.

“You, Shining Light of Heaven, will return to earth and grow among the populace with your new guardians.”

Shine squeezed Gabriel tightly around the waist.  “I don’t want to go without you,” she wailed to him.  “I won’t!  I won’t go without you!”

Metatron ignored her.  Pointing at Roni, he gestured for the snowy white man to come forward.

Roni padded fearlessly towards the seraph, stopping a few feet away and looking at it expectantly.

Metatron said to him, “We offer you a choice.  You have earned a place in the light of the Father.  You have only to take my hand and you can join us in His magnificent presence.  Or you can return to earth with your humans and finish out your short life as an animal.  What do you choose?”

Without hesitation, Roni turned and began walking back toward Sarah.  By the time he reached her side, he was a dog again.  He sat at her feet and licked her hand.

“A noble creature,” Metatron commented.  “The finest work of our Father resides in him.”

Metron pointed once more, this time at Az.  “Demon Asmodeus,” the seraph intoned.  “Step forward.”

Az’s voice was muffled by his covering of wings.  “Ah, if you don’t mind, I’ll just stay right here,” he said.

“Demon Asmodeus,” the seraph repeated with infinite patience, “step forward.”

“I am so screwed,” Az muttered.  He lowered his wings and took a cautious glance at the seraph.  He stepped warily around Gabriel and inched forward.  “Look, Most High One, I gotta tell you, I was just helping the dude out,” he stammered.  “It’s not like I did anything except – you know – what I always do.  You know.  Snagging dirty souls and stuff.”

“Demon Asmodeus,” Metatron said, “you have made yourself an outcast among your own kind because of your affection for this archangel.”

Az shrugged.  “Yeah, well – yeah.  It does kinda suck to be me right now, I gotta tell you.”

“The Father offers you protection.”

Startled, Az stared at the seraph.  “Protection?” he repeated.

“You can rejoin the heavenly hosts just as you were before the Fall.  You can rejoin the host of Golden Ones and leave the Dark Ones behind forever.”

For a moment, with the light from the seraph’s fire shining on his face, Gabriel could see the Asmodeus who was his brother before the Dark Times, before the Fall.  Gabriel studied Az’s handsome, unblemished face and felt tears fill his eyes at the childlike hope he saw in Az’s expression.

“I can be an angel again?” Az asked softly.

Az turned and looked at Gabe, then looked around the archangel and locked eyes with Tawny.  He stared at her a minute, then turned back to Metatron.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, and don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer.  I mean, I’m probably gonna want to kick my own ass over this, but – “  He shrugged.  “I think I’ll stick with what I know.”

The demon returned to the group and stood looking down at Tawny.  Her hand came up and rested gently on his chest.

“Step forward, Gabriel,” Metatron instructed.

Gabe unwound Shine’s arms from around his waist and approached the seraph.  A brilliant white light engulfed him, flaring so brightly that the humans were forced to turn away.  When they turned back, Gabriel stood before them unwounded, his pale skin shining with a silver glow.  His wings were fully formed again, resplendent and iridescent.

“Your place among the host is exalted now,” Metatron told him.  “Come, take your place with me beside the Father.”

The archangels around them turned to Gabriel and dropped to their knees in reverence.  Gabe stared at them almost sorrowfully.  He walked over to Michael and touched the archangel on the shoulder.  “I know why you did what you did,” Gabe said softly.  “I love you, my brother.”

With his head hanging low, Michael reached up and grasped Gabe’s hand in both of his and brought it to his lips.  “You are among the Most High, brother,” he whispered.  “Forgive me for my doubt.”

Gabe shook his head.  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Turning back to Metatron, Gabriel said, “Let me make sure I understand this.  These two women and Shine are going back to their lives, right?  With the bag of money?”

Metatron nodded.

“And I guess the dog and Az are going with them.”

“As they have chosen,” Metatron said.

He walked back to the group and took Sarah’s face in his hands.  His magnificent glow engulfed them both as he kissed her lips.  Releasing her, he knelt and gathered Shine into his arms.

“I love you, Heaven’s Shine,” he said.

“I love you,” Shine wept.  “I love you!  I love you!  I love you!”

Gabriel pulled away from her and caressed Shine’s face.  “I guess there’s only one thing left for me to do,” he sighed.

He searched the ground around them until he spied his leather duster.  Picking it up, he shook the dust out of it and began to pull it on, struggling to tuck his huge wings under it.  Then, taking Shine by the hand he looked at the others.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Archangel, do you understand what you are doing?” Metatron called after him.  “You will be an outcast among your kind and among theirs.  Not a human, not an exalted host of heaven.  An outcast.”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Metatron.  “I understand.”

“There is no turning back after this,” Metatron intoned.

“I understand,” Gabriel repeated.  He looked at Sarah.  “Let’s go home,” he said.

With one arm around Tawny and holding Roni’s leash with the other, Az fell in behind Gabe, Sarah and Shine.  “Dude, we’re totally screwed now, both of us,” he whined.  “For fuck’s sake, couldn’t you have bargained a little?  You know?  You were holding all the cards, man.  Shit!  Someone take this damned dog, he’s biting me!”

Heaven’s Shine – Chapter 23

Sarah moved away from Tawny and, taking Roni’s hand, put him next to her friend. “Guard her,” she said.

Roni’s brow furrowed with worry, but he inched closer to Tawny and leaned against her.  He glanced at the surrounding demons and snarled.

Ruffling his white hair, Sarah said, “Whatever happens to me, you guard Tawny, okay?”

Roni threw his head back and howled briefly, inconsolably, then leveled his azure gaze at Sarah again.

Sarah stepped toward the battling angels.  “St. Michael defend us,” she said in a steady voice.  Her eyes were locked on the glowing Archangel.  “St. Michael defend us in battle.  St. Michael defend us from the wicked and protect those we love.”

Michael froze with his sword in mid-arc.  He looked over his shoulder at Sarah in surprise.

“St. Michael, protect those who fight for our preservation,” Sarah continued.  “Hear my prayer, blessed guardian of the embattled.  St. Michael save and defend Gabriel.”

A murmur of shock and consternation rippled through the half-circle of Archangels standing around Shine.  The demons were more vocal about their displeasure.

“Don’t listen to her!” Moloch cried.  “Kill him!”

“Spill his guts!” Belphagor screamed.

Az looked on, puzzled.  “What the fuck, man?” he muttered to Tawny.  “What the fuck is she doing?”

Tawny glanced sideways at Az, then did a double-take.  His dark membranous wings stretched protectively up and around them both.  She touched his shoulder once, tentatively, before Roni wedged himself more insistently between her and the demon.  She tried to reach around the tall man to touch Asmodeus again, but Roni deftly kept himself between them.

Az looked at Tawny’s in surprise when she touched him.  He reached out to her, but Roni snapped viciously at his fingers.

“Okay!  Damn!  Chill the fuck out,” Az hissed.

Michael stared at Sarah for a moment, then turned back to Gabriel and lifted his sword again.

“St. Michael, save us from the wicked and preserve those who would defend us,” Sarah prayed loudly.

The archangel swirled around again.  “What are you doing?” he shouted at Sarah.

Gabriel scrambled out from under Michael’s sword and fumbled on the ground for his weapon.  The sword vibrated with power under his touch and he grasped it with two hands.

“I’m saying the only prayer I ever knew,” Sarah told Michael.

Michael turned in time to parry Gabriel’s sword.  He took a step back under the force of the blow.

“I told you that you’re not a fit guardian,” Gabriel spat.  “In fact, as guardian angels go, you pretty much suck right now.”

“You tell him, Bro!” Az yelled.

“They are tricking you,” Moloch growled at Michael.  “It’s only a distraction, a cheap ploy.  Kill him, Warrior Angel!  Kill the traitor!”

Covered with his own blood and swinging wildly, Gabriel advanced on Michael, driving the golden angel backward the way Michael had done to him earlier.  Michael parried every blow, his face set in concentration.

“You said you saved her,” Gabriel continued as he swung repeatedly.  “Is that why she was battered and raped and torn when she came to me?  She would have died, but it was me who saved her.  Me.  Is that the measure of how you save those who pray to you?  And what about the dog?  What about the dog, Michael?  Did you save him, too?  Yes, I’m sure you did.  He bears the scars of your brand of ‘salvation’.”

“I am not a guardian of dogs,” Michael shouted angrily.

Locked in fierce battle, the angels moved around the center of the crowd.  The group of demons stirred eagerly, incited by Gabriel’s blood.   The demon Rangda, smelling of incense and spice, leaped forward and grabbed at Moloch’s arm.

“Why are we waiting?” she screeched.  “Let’s take the women now.  I will have a piece of each.”

“We are constrained by agreement,” Moloch said, pushing her away.

Rangda’s long tongue hung from her mouth and slithered on the floor.  “I will not wait!”

Without warning, Roni rushed the demon and they fell to the ground together.

“Roni!” Sarah cried.

Tawny turned to Az and grabbed him by the shoulders.  “Help him!” she pleaded.  “Please, help him!”

Az stared Tawny’s hazel eyes.  “Ah, shit,” he whispered.  “I am so fucking screwed.”  He pressed his lips against hers quickly and briefly, then pushed her toward Sarah.

Gabriel could only glance in the direction of the demons as he and Michael engaged.  He saw Az leap into dizzying fray of limbs and wings, and then step back holding Roni by the arm.  Bloody and torn, Roni snapped at Az, trying to free himself and get back to the fight.  Gabriel knew that the demons would tear the dog to pieces.  In his man form, the dog was even more vulnerable.  He heard Sarah wail Roni’s name.

He glanced to his left and saw Shine still standing quietly between the archangels.  Their eyes met and he saw the depth of fear in her.  The sudden rage that swept through him made it hard to breathe.

Lifting his weapon and swinging with all of his power, Gabriel knocked past Michael’s upraised sword and landed a blow across the archangel’s armored chest.  This time, the blow staggered Michael.  The golden angel fell and a gasp went up from the company of angels around them.

Without a moment’s thought, Gabriel jumped over Michael’s prone form and ran to Shine.  He scooped her up and rushed over to Sarah.   “Stay together,” he told them.

Sarah stared at his wounds in dismay.  “Gabe – “

He cut her off.  “Just stay together, Sarah!  Tawny, you too.”

Gabriel waded into the mass of snarling, writhing demons.  With Az by his side, he found Roni fighting savagely under several Dark Ones and together they pulled the white man to safety.

He waved his sword at the demons.  “So help me, I’ll gut the next one who moves,” he shouted.

Az and Gabriel, their backs turned defensively to each other, edged themselves and Roni over to join the women.

“I hope you realize how fucked I am,” Az muttered.  “I’ve pissed everybody off now.”

Gabe nodded.  “Join the club, my friend.”

The group formed a tight knot in the center of the crowd, the women and Roni protected by the upraised wings of the angel and the demon.  Shine broke away from Sarah and pushed past Gabriel’s bloody wings to wrap her arms around his waist.  “Gabriel,” she sobbed, “Gabriel!  You’re dying, you’re bleeding to death.”

Michael got to his feet and, together with the rest of the archangels, advanced.  The Dark ones, unable to attack the others in the presence of the fiery archangels, howled and gibbered and cursed on the periphery.  Gabriel knew that if just one of the archangels backed away, nothing would hold Legion back except whatever fight he and Az could give them.  He felt weak and dizzy as his blood pooled on the ground around his feet, but the sword still vibrated in his hand.  He hoped Az would take the women and run if the fight ended the way he now believed it would.

“The child is correct, Brother,” Camael said.  His face was twisted with sorrow.  “You chose to live as a human and now you’re dying like a human.”

“What is wrong with you?” Michael shouted at him.  “Why didn’t you smite me while you had the chance?  Have you lost your courage?  Have you lost your heart?”

Gabe nodded.  “Yes, Michael,” he panted.  “I’ve lost my heart.  I lost it to these humans you’re so scornful of.”  He smiled painfully.  “And I would do nothing differently if given the chance to begin again.”  He gestured at the archangels.  “Come on, then.  Let’s end this.”

Heaven’s Shine, Chapter 22

A fierce stab of pride and love shot through Sarah as she watched Gabriel step toward Michael.  With his blonde hair tousled over his forehead and his wings stretched taunt on either side of his shoulders, he took her breath away.  He was smaller than Michael – much smaller – but he was muscled and sinewy, and she felt a strength radiating from him that the other angel lacked.  She breathed deeply through her nose, inhaling his determination.

And this is the one they say went bad, she thought.

She felt Tawny’s hands on her arm and reached down to help her friend stand.

Her white dress torn and hanging precariously by one shoulder strap, Tawny pushed her disheveled red locks from her face and stared as Michael and Gabriel circled each other.

Tawny pointed and whispered shakily,  “Your boyfriend has wings.”

Although she was trembling with fear, Sarah smiled.  “Yeah.  He does.”

“Will he save us?”

Sarah turned and the women stared at each other.  “I believe so,” was all Sarah could say.  She hoped she was right.

They both gasped as the first clash of swords split the air with the force of a lightening strike.  The vault of clouds overhead flashed orange and yellow in sympathy.

Gabriel took a staggering step back under the force of Michael’s blow and managed to raise his sword again just in time to parry the next strike.   He was suddenly aware of how terribly overmatched he was.  Michael is a warrior, his mind screamed.  Michael was made for this.

The Archangel Michael continued to move forward, landing blow after blow against the sword that Gabriel only just managed to raise in time to defend himself.  Again and again he struck, driving Gabriel back until the weaker angel stumbled and fell to one knee.

Michael lowered his sword in disgust.  “You’re a fool, brother,” he said angrily.  “Do you want to die like this?  Do you want to die in defense of – of what?  Humans?”

Gabriel staggered to his feet.  He gestured at Michael.  “Come again,” he urged.

With a low growl, Michael advanced again, swinging his sword powerfully again and again.  The crowd of demons drew back with a cry as Gabriel was driven into their midst and once again stumbled to his knees.

“There,” Michael shouted.  “That’s where you belong, among the Dark Ones!”

Az slithered over and helped Gabriel to his feet.  “Dude, he is so gonna kill you,” the demon muttered.

Gabriel put out a hand and pushed Asmodeus away.  “I’ve got this,” he panted.

“You’ve got this?”  Az flapped his hands in disgust.  “You’ve got your ass in a sling is what you’ve got.”

“Come forward then,” Michael bellowed.  He held his arms out to either side, leaving himself open for a blow.  “Come then, Fallen Brother!”

Gabriel rushed forward, striking his sword against Michael’s armored breast.  The force of the blow almost knocked the blade from his hands, but Michael barely flinched.

Michael reached out and grasped Gabriel by the back of the neck, flinging the angel aside like a rag.  He glowed with a blinding golden light as he stared at Gabriel.  He swung his fiery sword in for a death blow which Gabriel only managed to partially block.

There was a searing pain across his bicep and Gabriel looked in wonder at the blood flowing from his shoulder.

“You even bleed like a human,” Michael said.

Gasping for breath, Gabriel managed to regain his feet and raise his sword as Michael came at him, striking again and again, once again driving him backward.  The sky was on fire above them.

Michael drove Gabriel back into the crowd of demons and continued coming after him.

Gabriel stumbled against a wet mass and Leviathan hissed in his ear, “Hurry up and die.  I have plans for the scarred woman.”

Crying out in fury, Gabriel brought his sword up to block Michael’s next thrust.  He knocked the demon out of his way.   “Get thee behind me,” he shouted.

Michael struck relentlessly, continuing to rain blows down against Gabriel’s upraised sword.  “You should have listened to me,” the golden angel roared.  “I tried to save you, Brother, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Gabriel braced himself against the blows as best he could.  “Listen?” he shouted back at Michael.  “Listen to you?  You failed as a Guardian, Michael.  You failed.  You’re still failing.”

Another swing of Michael’s fiery sword and blood began to pour from a stinging wound across Gabriel’s chest.  “I kept Sarah alive!” Michael roared.  “And the dog, too!”

Tawny stared in horror as Michael worked Gabriel in a circle through the crowd of demons and back to the center of the fight.  She groped for Sarah and the women clutched at each other’s hands.  “He’s going to die,” Tawny cried.

On Sarah’s other side, Roni stepped forward, growling deep in his chest.  Sarah put out a hand and restrained him.  “No,” she said softly.  “Not yet.”

She searched the crowd of angels beyond the fight and saw Shine.  The little girl had lifted her hands and was praying fervently, her eyes squeezed shut.

Michael drove Gabriel to the ground in front of the archangels with a battery of thrusts and blows.   He smiled grimly.  “What a waste, Brother,” he growled.  “All of this, for nothing.  For nothing!”

Gabriel fought to keep his sword between him and Michael.  He couldn’t catch his breath and blood was flowing freely from half a dozen wounds.  He managed to raise his sword a final time, but Michael was too strong.  The golden angel struck again and Gabriel’s sword fell clattering to the ground.

Gabriel looked up at Michael’s raised sword and felt a sickening sense of defeat.   Shine, he thought miserably, Sarah!  My loves and my life.  I’m so sorry.

Chapter 21 – Heaven’s Shine

It was odd, Gabriel reflected as Belphagor took them across, how earthly time warped even the keenest of memories.  Limbus had been a place of desolation and despair to the archangel since time out of mind, but now – walking into it after an absence of one human decade – its beauty stunned him.  Writhing clouds of purple and orange gathered on the oblique horizon, painting all the creatures gathered there in its otherworldly light.  Its bleak prospect used to fill Gabriel with sorrow; now, it filled him with an ache.  He didn’t recognize the pain, he had no frame of reference for homesickness. He could only accept it as he stepped forward into the crowd of winged creatures.

The circle on the left opened slightly, and Gabriel saw both Sarah and Tawny in the midst of a group of demons.   Tawny was on her knees as some of the most rapacious demons hovered over her, waiting for their chance to savage the beautiful woman.  She was lost and terrified, and obviously had no idea where she was.  Her vulnerable beauty made her irresistible to the Dark Ones . They salivated over her, whispering unspeakable things, making dark, painful promises.

Sarah stood beside her friend, one of her hands lightly touching the crown of Tawny’s bright hair.  She opened her lips when she saw Gabe as if she wanted to cry out to him, but she closed them again and continued to meet his gaze in silent appeal.

Belphagor’s human aspect melted away as she stepped toward her kind.  Her leathery wings beat slowly as she joined the group and snarled at them in greeting. She approached Sarah and grasped the girl’s scarred arm. “See?” Belle crooned.  “I told you I’d take you to him.  Here he is.”

Sarah jerked away from her.  “Fuck off,” she said tightly.

A titter ran through the group of demons.

Gabriel looked at the group assembled to his right.  Ariel, Zadkiel, Camael, Uriel, Raphael, Sachiel and Uriel – all but one of his bright brothers stood together in silence, their wings forming a glowing wall of light behind them.  They wore a uniform look of disappointed compassion.

“Well, this is awkward.”  Az cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll wait over here.“ He pointed toward the group of Dark Ones.  “You know how it is.”

Gabe nodded.  “I know.”

He took the leash from Az and unclipped it from the collar surrounding the neck of the tall, powerfully built man beside them.

The man’s white skin glowed like sunlight on snow and his eyes were the color of a midday sky. Faint scars marked the fair skin around his mouth and nose as he gazed eagerly at Gabriel.

“Go to her,” Gabe said softly.

The man turned silently and made his way to Sarah.  He stood beside her and leaned his heavy frame against her.  She stared at him and reached up to touch the vibration collar around his neck.  He ducked his face under her palm as if demanding a caress and leaned more heavily into her.

“Well, that’s something you don’t see everyday,” Az snorted.  He turned to give Gabe’s a thumbs-up before joining the other demons.

“Don’t touch me,” Moloch sneered, moving away from Az’s presence.  “You stink of angels.”

“Oh, chillax, you asshat,” Az responded.  He gestured at the tall albino man.  “My dog will rip your face off.  Ain’t that right, Roni?”

The man glanced briefly at Az.  His upper lip peeled back threateningly.

“Or maybe not,” Az sighed.

Gabriel stood between the opposing groups and stared at the archangels.  “Get Michael,” he said.  “Tell him to bring me the child.”

Uriel held out his hands in appeal.  “Gabriel, don’t do this,” he said.  “Let Michael have the child, and the women can go back to their lives.  This is the way it must be.”

“This is not the way it must be,” Gabriel responded, “and it’s not the way it will be.  I want Michael out here right now and I want the child back.”

Uriel exchanged a look with Camael and they both stepped aside.  Behind them stood Michael, ablaze with heavenly light, with Shine beside him.  Tears were streaming down her face, but she showed no fear of Michael as she clung to his hand.

“Let her go, Michael,” Gabriel demanded.

Michael shook his head.  “The game is over, Brother.  What should have happened ten years ago will happen now and order will be restored.  I’ve explained it all to Shanyáo and she understands.” He smiled down at her.  “She’s a brilliant and gifted child.”

Gabriel held out his hand to her.  “Shine,” he said, “come here to me.”

She sniffed wetly and shook her head.  “I can’t,” she whispered.  “Michael says it’s up to me to fix everything.  That’s what I need to do.”  She glanced up at Michael.  “He promised me it won’t hurt.”

Gabe’s heart sank. “What won’t hurt?”  He stared at Shine, but she burst into tears and looked away.  “What won’t hurt, Michael?” he shouted.  “What did you tell her?”

“The truth, Brother. I’m going to end her earthly life as it should have ended ten years ago.  Then you’re going to take her soul to the Father like you should have taken it ten years ago.  She will be where she belongs and you will be back in with us where you belong.”  Michael smiled. “Everything will be forgiven and everything will be just as it was before you disobeyed the Father.”

Michael gestured at the women.  “The two human women and the – “ He paused.  “- the dog – they will go back to their lives as if this never happened with one notable improvement.”

He looked past Gabe and called, “Demon Asmodeus!”

“Oh, no way, man,” Az whined.  “You gotta leave me the fuck out of this.  I had nothing to do with him snatching the kid.  I just helped him out once in a while, that’s all.”

Michael waved his hand impatiently.  “Open that bag you’re carrying.”

Az started.  “Oh, this?” He swung the duffel bag from his shoulder and placed it on the ground.  “You want me to open this?  Okay.”   He heaved a relieved sigh as he untied the cords and pulled the neck of the bag open.  “Wow.”

Gabriel turned to look and saw rolls of money the size of a man’s fist, hundreds of them.

“So you see?” Michael continued gently.  “You don’t have to worry about the women.  I made sure they will be able to take care of themselves, especially Sarah.  After all, I am her guardian angel, as you know by now.”

Gabriel looked up from the bag of money to Sarah.  She shook her head slightly.  “And if I don’t agree?” he asked Michael.

The other archangel stiffened.  His wings fluttered as he drew them higher above his head.  “The child will still die.  I will take her soul myself.  You will be cast out of the present of the Father forever and the women will be given to the Dark Ones.”

Gabriel considered this for a moment.  The Dark Ones were rustling eagerly, but the archangels remained impassive.

Finally, Gabriel sighed.  “Then there’s only one thing to do.”

He took off his leather jacket, revealing his sadly atrophied wings.  He stretched them out painfully, aware of how stiff and unused they felt against his bare back.  Turning to Camael, he held out his hand.  “I need a sword.”

Camael’s mouth was drawn down in a sorrowful bow, but he nodded as he unsheathed his sword. “Many of us told Michael it would come to this.  And so it has.”

Gabriel took the sword and tested its weight.  Turning once again to Michael, he said, “Some guardian you are, allowing this woman to suffer the pain she’s endured.  You’re not fit to watch over her.  You’re not fit to watch over anyone because you lack the one quality that Sarah has in abundance:  Compassion.”

Michael glared at him. “How dare you?”

“And as for taking the child,” Gabe continued, “you’ll have to kill me first.”

“Gabe, no!” Shine wept.

Michael patted her hand gently before releasing it.  “I’m sorry you have to see this, little one.”

He unsheathed his own sword and stepped forward to meet Gabriel.