They all hoped that she was all right, and so did Remy.
The fourth address on the list was to the Junk Drawer, a consignment/antique store minus the snootiness. The aisles of shelves were stacked high with used books and National Geographic magazines, old toys, and dishes and glassware, and multiple racks were hung with vintage clothing. Madeline had loved stores like this, referring to them as a walk down memory lane, a place where the hunger for nostalgia could be fed.
A yellowed, original movie poster for The Magnificent Seven hung crookedly on a wall, and Remy considered asking the price. He knew the film to be one of Francis’ favorites, although he hadn’t seen his friend since that business with the Garden of Eden. Remy had thought him killed in the Hell realm of Tartarus, but Francis had lived, although he was definitely different. Something had happened to him, but Remy hadn’t been able to find out exactly what that was.
The Junk Drawer’s single proprietor was busy at the front of the store, discussing the value of some Star Wars action figures with a customer. As he waited, Remy caught the swish of a puffy brown tail as it quickly disappeared toward the back of the store.
Figuring there was no harm in trying, he walked to the back, where he found a few overstuffed couches, a set of rattan chairs, a glass-topped coffee table, and one extremely large Maine Coon cat nestled inside a wicker hamper atop a folded red blanket.
Remy stood very close to the basket and looked down at the cat, whose eyes remained tightly shut.
“Hey,” Remy addressed the animal.
The cat did not respond in any way.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” Remy poked the base of the hamper with the toe of his shoe.
The cat’s eyes shot open, staring intensely ahead, but not at him.
“Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”
“Leave me,” the cat growled.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I really need to ask you a few questions,” Remy told the annoyed feline. “Then I promise I’ll leave you alone. All right?”
The cat slowly lifted its furry head to glare at Remy with eyes the color of jade.
“There was a girl in here a few days ago,” Remy began. “She came in to ask for a job, but I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have seen you and tried to make friends.”
“No girl,” the cat said, closing its eyes.
Remy kicked the base of the hamper again.
“She would have been really nice, and probably would have scratched behind your ears and told you what a pretty cat you were, or something like that.”
The cat raised its furry bulk, arching its back with a hiss; then it paused, seeming to think about what Remy had just said.
“Nice girl,” the cat said after a moment. “Did scratch… felt good.”
The Maine Coon sat and turned its face up to him. “Yes,” it said.
“So you remember her?”
“Didn’t hear?”
“Yeah, I heard,” Remy said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, reminding himself why he thought that most cats were assholes. “Do you remember if anything out of the ordinary happened while she was here? Anything that you might’ve noticed?”
“No,” the big cat said, standing up and moving in a circle as it prepared to again curl up on the blanket. “Scratched and stroked…then gone.”
“That was it?”
The cat didn’t answer as it snuggled back down and closed its eyes, finished with Remy. Well, he had said he would leave the cat alone if it answered his questions.
He was turning to leave when the cat’s voice stopped him.
“Strange man,” it said.
“Excuse me?” Remy turned back and peered down into the hamper.
The cat was looking up at him.
“Strange man in store,” the cat said. “Followed nice girl.”
“A strange man followed her out of the store?”
The cat made a face, as if something disturbed it.
“What do you mean by strange man?” Remy wanted to know. “What was strange?”
“Smell,” the cat explained.
And the cat’s ample fur puffed out on its body as if the threat was still there.
“Smell wrong.”
Remy grabbed a coffee from a pizza shop on the corner and stood at the window counter, gazing out at the people walking by on their daily grind. He imagined Ashley doing the same, moving from one store on her list to the next.
A strange man following.
He sipped the hot black coffee, letting it burn the inside of his mouth. He wanted to feel something other than the growing sense of dread in his belly.
The cat had said that the man smelled wrong-strange. Animals were extremely sensitive to the unusual, the bizarre, and Remy was forced to wonder if Ashley’s disappearance could have had something to do with him.
And what he actually was.
He’d tried as hard as he could to keep the more unusual aspects of his existence separate from his human life, but, as of late, it was becoming increasingly difficult. And what if someone- something — with a grudge against the angel Remiel had decided to get even by striking against those about whom he cared the most?
Remy drank from his cup again, scalding the inside of his mouth. He didn’t care for that thought, not one little bit. Briefly he imagined what he would do to anything or anyone that tried to hurt him through his friends. All he could see was fire; all he could hear was the screams of whoever or whatever might be stupid enough to dare.
The imaginary screams were suddenly drowned out by the sound of his phone ringing. He reached into his pocket and checked to see who it was.
Carol Berg.
“Carol?” Remy answered, feeling his body immediately tense.
“Remy,” she said. “They just called…the police…They found her car.”
His heart began to race faster and faster, and he thought it might explode.
“They found Ashley’s car.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The police had found Ashley’s car not five miles from her new apartment.
It was in the parking lot of a small strip mall, where they’d gone for a quick cup of coffee when Remy had helped her move.
He wished himself invisible and approached the car, watching as the local police swarmed about the Honda, searching for clues.
Remy could feel his anxiety growing, and then he heard the words he dreaded most.
“I’ve got blood in here.”
He quickly stepped up behind an officer who was leaning into the vehicle, shining a flashlight on the passenger’s seat. He forced himself to remain calm as he waited for the officer to withdraw. It seemed to take forever, but finally the policeman stepped back and Remy was able to take a look, relieved to find only a few spatters of blood on the passenger’s seat.
Images of Ashley fighting an attacker flashed before his mind’s eye. He saw her scratching the assailant and drawing blood; he saw her being struck, the blood upon the cloth seat from her nose.
He shook his head and moved away from the car as more detectives approached to gather their evidence. The scent of Ashley’s blood lingered in his nostrils, and he cursed senses that had become stronger since embracing
