his true nature.
He had hoped that this was all some sort of enormous mistake, that he would arrive in Brattleboro to find Ashley at her apartment, wondering why everyone was so upset when she had simply gone to visit a friend at another campus, lost track of time, and her phone had gone dead.
But that wasn’t her… Ashley wasn’t wired that way.
Remy looked to the car again…the empty car where spatters of blood had been found. He watched the policemen doing their job. He wanted to do something, too. But what?
Frustration roiled within him. An angel of the Heavenly host Seraphim was not accustomed to standing idle. He was a creature of action, of battle, of war…but there was nothing to lash out at with his sword of fire.
He was helpless, the only clue he had coming from a cat that happened to notice a strange-smelling man follow Ashley from a store.
He was considering going back to the store to question the Maine Coon some more when his cell phone began to ring. The officers around him immediately reacted, checking their own phones as Remy walked away from the scene, taking the phone from his pocket. He expected it to be Carol, but instead saw a number that he immediately recognized.
“Ashley?” he cried into the phone, desperate to hear her voice, desperate to know that she was all right.
There was an odd silence from the other end, reminding him of the roaring sound he and Madeline had heard when they’d pressed seashells to their ears at the beach on the Cape.
“Hello?” Remy prodded. “Ashley, is that you?”
“Remy Chandler,” said a voice as dry as the grave. “Is that what you call yourself, angel?”
“Excuse me?” Remy asked, stunned. “Who is this?”
“Never mind that,” the voice croaked. “I have the girl… I have Ashley.”
Remy was silent, waiting for what was to follow.
“Go someplace quiet and wait for me to contact you again.”
“If you’ve hurt her…,” Remy began.
“Now, why would I want to hurt the darling who has given me you?” interrupted the voice, sounding jubilant. “Go and wait for my call.”
The line went dead, and Remy stood there, too stunned to move. It was exactly as he feared. Not only had Ashley been forcibly taken.
It did have something to do with him.
Remy took a room at the Simons Motor Lodge.
He sat in the semidarkness, cell phone on the circular tabletop beside him, waiting for it to ring.
He’d put the television on, hoping for a distraction, but it did little more than annoy him.
Lucky him, there was another story about the little girl who’d awakened from a coma with a message from Heaven. He saw pretty much the same footage he’d seen the other night at Linda’s, but this time he learned the young child’s name.
Angelina Hayward.
She’d suffered massive head trauma after falling off the back deck of her home, putting her into a coma from which no one ever expected her to awaken. But little Angelina had surprised everybody, saying that the angels had brought her back and that the Almighty had a message.
Remy could not help but feel contempt for the media and how they played up the story. He knew that angels had nothing to do with the girl’s awakening. As far as he knew, they were far too busy dealing with the return of Lucifer Morningstar. And as far as getting a message from God? Well, suffice it to say that Remy doubted the validity of that claim.
Angelina was just a very lucky little girl who had managed to beat the odds and come out on the other side reasonably unscathed.
The screen showed a close-up of the child in her bed, clutching a stuffed bear, the reporter asking her if she had anything to say to all the people watching her.
“Talk to you soon,” she squeaked, then smiled, hugging the bear.
The anchors gushed about how inspirational the child was, and Remy was about to change the channel when his cell phone began to ring. He snatched it from the table and saw that it was Ashley’s number. But instead of relief, it now filled him with dread.
“Remy,” he said.
There was that pause again, that hollow rushing sound before the old voice began to speak.
“There’s a farm on the outskirts of town. Used to belong to the Deacon family…Do you remember them?”
“Can’t say that I do,” Remy answered truthfully.
The voice went silent, and Remy wasn’t sure if the line was still open.
“Hello? Are you-”
“Never mind,” the voice interrupted. “They haven’t been in the public eye for quite some time. They were once like royalty, you know.”
“And what does that have to do with-”
“You will go to that farm and wait,” the voice instructed.
“Wait for what?”
“I need to be sure of you, Remy Chandler,” the voice said. “I need to be sure that you are what the girl showed me.”
“Ashley has no idea what I am…and neither do you.”
The voice laughed, a sound like old, dried leaves being crushed.
“I know exactly what you are, angel.”
“Why are you doing this?” Remy asked.
“Because I can, angel,” the voice said. “Because I can.”
Beacon Hill
Fall 2008
Remy found Ashley sitting on the steps of her brownstone, staring straight ahead at nothing. Madeline had given him the news: Spooky had died that morning.
“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside the teenager. He handed her a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.
“Hey,” she said back, carefully taking the cup.
“Two creams, one Sweet’N Low?” he asked.
She nodded, peeling away that little piece of plastic on the lid so she could sip the hot drink. “Right. Thanks.”
“Are you all right?” Remy asked, taking the cover off his own cup of strong black coffee.
“Did you hear?” she asked.
“Yeah, Maddie told me. I’m really sorry, kiddo.”
She nodded quickly, and he could see a fresh tear spill down her cheek. She had some more of her coffee.
“She stopped eating yesterday,” Ashley said. “Didn’t matter what we gave her. We even tried sliced turkey. She loved sliced turkey, but she wouldn’t even take that.”
“I guess it was just time,” Remy said.
“Yeah,” Ashley agreed. “She was pretty old.”
“Had a good life, though,” Remy assured her.
“Ya think?” she asked. She turned her head to look at him, and Remy was surprised to see not the little girl he’d first met on that hot summer’s day in ’96, but a young woman dealing with one of the sad facts of life.
Everything eventually died.
It was something that he still wrestled with in his own immortal existence, one of the difficult truths of being human.
“Sure,” Remy said. He drank some more of his coffee, thinking about what he was going to say. “She had somebody who loved and cared for her, who gave her a safe place to live. I really don’t think a cat could want for anything else. Do you?”
