Kissed by an Angel

'I don't,' said the girl with the brown pony-tail.

'Let's get somebody other than Lacey Lovitt.'

'Yeah, she was obnoxious.'

It was Tristan's turn to snicker.

'I like that new girl in Dart Moon. The one who took her place.'

'Me too,' the redhead agreed.

'She's a much better actress. And she has better hair.'

Tristan's laughter softened. He glanced warily at Lacey.

'Well, she's not dead,' said the leader. 'We're calling Lacey Lovitt. If you're here, Lacey, give us a sign.'

It began with a slow whirling of dust. Tristan saw that Lacey herself became faint as the dust whirled upward. Then the dust drifted off and she was there again, running around the outside of the circle, pulling hair.

The girls shrieked and held their heads. She pinched two of them, then picked up their sweaters and hurled them this way and that.

By this time the girls were on their feet, still screaming, and running for the open window.

Empty bottles flew over their heads and smashed against the chapel wall.

In a moment the girls were gone, their screams trailing behind them like thin, birdlike calls.

'Well,' said Tristan when it was quiet again, 'I guess everyone should be glad that there wasn't a chandelier in here. Feeling better?'

'Little snips!'

'How did you do that?' he asked.

'I've seen that new actress. She stinks.'

'I'm sure,' said Tristan, 'that she can't be nearly as dramatic as you. You were pulling and throwing. How did you do that? I can't use my hands at all.'

'Figure it out for yourself!' She was still fuming. 'Better hair!' She pulled on strands of the purplish stuff. 'This is my own personal style.' She glared at Tristan.

He smiled back.

'As for how I use my hands,' she said, 'do you really think I'd take up my precious time to teach you?'

Tristan nodded. 'Good audiences are hard to come by,' he reminded her, 'especially when you're dead and most of them can't see you.'

Then he left her sulking in the chapel. He figured she'd know how to locate him and would when she was ready.

Out in the noonday sun again, Tristan blinked. While he did not feel changes in temperature, he did seem very sensitive to light and darkness. In the darkened chapel he had seen auras around the girls, and now, in the tree-shaded landscape, splotches of sunlight seemed dazzlingly bright.

Perhaps that was why he mistook the visitor for Gregory. The way he moved, the dark hair, and the shape of his head convinced Tristan that Gregory was walking away from the Baines family plot. Then the visitor, as if he sensed someone watching him, turned around.

He was much older than Gregory, forty or so, and his face was twisted with grief. Tristan reached out a hand to him, but the man turned away and continued on.

So did Tristan, but not before he noticed, on the fresh green belly of Caroline's grave, a long-stemmed red rose.

Chapter 15

Lacey found Tristan again late that afternoon. She called his name, startling him as he walked along the edge of the ridge. He looked up to see her sitting in a tree.

'Nice view, isn't it?' said Lacey.

Tristan nodded, and gazed again down the stony drop. The land fell away steeply there for two or three hundred feet. He remembered seeing in the early spring the silver tracks and the roof of the one-room train station in the valley below, but now they were hidden. Only small flecks of river could be seen flashing blue through the trees. 'I don't know why I'm so drawn to this place.'

Lacey cocked her head. 'I'm sure that it has nothing to do with the fact that Ivy lives here,' she said sarcastically.

'How did you know about Ivy?'

The girl did a neat skin-the-cat and dropped down from the tree.

'Read about her, of course.' Lacey walked along next to him. 'Read all about your accident. I make it a habit to drop by the station every morning and read the paper with the commuters.

Don't like to be out of the skinny. Besides, it helps me to keep the date straight.'

'Today's Sunday, July tenth,' Tristan said.

'Brrrrrrt!' She made a sound like a game-show buzzer, and snapped a twig from the tree.

'Tuesday, July twelfth.'

'Couldn't be,' Tristan said. He reached up but couldn't pull off a leaf, much less snap a branch.

'Did you fall into the darkness in the last couple of days?'

'Last night,' he replied.

'More like three nights ago,' she told him. 'That will happen, but eventually you'll build up your strength and need less and less rest. Except, of course, when you do fancy jobs.'

'Fancy jobs. Like what?'

She waited till she had his full attention, then said, 'Look at me.'

'What do you think I'm doing?'

'Stand back a little and look harder. What am I missing?'

'Do you promise not to pull my hair?'

She scowled at him. It was a fine scowl, but it passed quickly-she was just acting.

'Look at that cat,' she said.

He glanced over his shoulder. 'Ella!'

'Look at the grass next to the cat and look at the grass next to me.'

He saw it then. 'You have no shadow.'

'Neither do you.'

'You're talking out loud,' he observed. 'I recognize that sound and saw Ella's ears flick in your direction.'

'Now watch the grass behind me,' she instructed, and closed her eyes. Slowly, like dark water seeping over the lawn, her shadow grew. Just as slowly she lost her shimmering quality. Ella cautiously circled her once, twice. Then she rubbed against Lacey's leg and didn't fall over.

'You're solid!' Tristan exclaimed. 'Solid! Anybody could see you! Teach me how to do it. If I can make myself solid, Ivy will see me, she'll know I'm here for her, she'll know-' 'Whoa,' Lacey cut in. Then her projected voice began to fade. 'I'll be with you in a minute.'

Her shadow disappeared. Then she did- completely.

'Lacey?' Tristan spun around. 'Lacey, where are you? Are you all right?'

'Just tired.' Her voice was small. Her body appeared again but was almost translucent. She lay curled in a ball on the ground. 'Give me a few minutes.'

Tristan paced back and forth, eyeing her worriedly.

Suddenly she sprang up, looking like herself again. 'It's like this,' she said. 'For transient angels-that's you and me, sweetie-it takes all the energy we have and a lot of experience to materialize completely. To speak at the same time-well, only a professional can do that.'

'Meaning you,' he said.

'Usually I just materialize part of myself, such as my fingers, when I want to do something-pull hair or turn the paper to the movie reviews.'

'Teach me!' Tristan said fervently. 'Will you show me how?'