Possession

offense.”

She wanted to come closer. Didn’t dare. “I’ve got to forge my own way here. I have no choice—and if that means pissing you off, that’s the way it is.”

“If I were angry, you’d know it. Terminally annoyed is more accurate.”

“Please. Just point me in the right direction. I’ll take things from there.”

He laughed in a short burst. “Funny you say it like that.”

“Why?”

The angel glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you.”

“Nope.”

With a curse, Adrian leaned to the side and got his cane. Grimacing as he stood up, he leveled his stare on her. “Okay, fine. But, first off, I don’t know if I can find it. I make no promises.”

“What’s ‘it’?”

“What you’re looking for. And …” He shoved his forefinger in her face. “You damage it in any way, and I’m going to take the shit out of your hide. I don’t care if you’re a girl or not. Are we clear?”

She put her hand out. “Deal.”

The guy rolled his eyes. But he did shake on it.

Then he led her down to the second floor. Down to the first. Through the back door. Out toward the garage.

Talk about your lean-to’s—even though the long, thin building had a roof and three walls, it was listing like Adrian did when he walked, looking as if the only thing keeping it standing were the thick vines that grew up on its sides. And although there were four rolling doors, it appeared as though only two of them worked: The other pair on the far end had two-by-fours nailed kitty-corner all over the front of them.

Adrian bent over and locked a grip on the first door, heaving his considerable strength into it. The high- pitched screech of metal on metal made her cover her ears as he pulled the weight up ancient tracks, disappearing the chipped, paint-flaking panels into the darkness.

“You stay out here.”

He vanished into the shadows, and then she heard a flick-flick … flick-flick … and a lot more cursing.

Evidently the lights were out.

“Can you get me a flashlight,” he said. “There’s one in the—ow! Fuck me!”

“Explorer?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I need the keys—” Before she finished speaking, a set came flying out of the garage. Catching them, she said, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine and fucking dandy—it’s just a goddamn mess in here.”

Figuring she had a matter of nanoseconds before he lost his patience completely and told her to screw off, she jogged over to the SUV and beelined for the glove compartment. A quick click, and she had a beam that was strong enough to blind her even in the daylight. Perfect.

Back at the garage, she shined it inside. “Wooooow…”

And she thought the attic was full of adventures. Turned out the garage was an open single bay stuffed full of an incalculable amount of lawn equipment and carpentry machines and automobiles that must have come from the fifties. There were a number of new additions, however—three dust-free duffel bags were clustered around Adrian’s feet.

Buttressing himself on that cane, he got down on his knees and unzipped the first of them. Out came … a huge leather coat. A couple pairs of jeans. Combat boots. Shirts. Each item was set aside with care on the concrete.

Eddie’s things.

Sissy was tempted to step away and give Adrian some privacy, but he needed the light. And maybe the company.

He was talking: “Such a good little packer, he was. I used to think it was a waste of fucking time. When we moved, though … I did it like he would have. Folded everything. Put the shit in by category.”

Sissy blinked back tears as she wondered how her family was going to do things differently in the future. She didn’t want her survivors changing themselves as a way to remember her … but she probably would have done the same thing.

“I’m sure he appreciated it,” she whispered.

“He’s dead. He’ll never know.”

“Are you certain about that?”

The angel’s hands stilled for a heartbeat. “Dunno.” He moved to the next bag. “Maybe it’s in this one. I know I packed the goddamn thing—ah … got it.”

Awkwardly moving around, he held his forearm up against the flashlight. “You can turn that off.”

“Sorry.” Click.

Adrian grunted as he got to his feet and walked out into the sunshine. “Here. This is all I got to offer you.”

It was a book, an ancient book that was thick as a tree trunk.

Tucking the flashlight under her arm, she accepted the thing with trembling hands. The cover was so old, she couldn’t even tell what color the leather was—something between red and black and gray and brown. And there had been some kind of embossing and maybe some gold leaf, but most of that was worn smooth and worn off.

“What is this?” she said, gingerly opening the tone.

Inhaling deeply, she smelled flowers, the kind that were up in the attic, and as she scanned the title page, she had a vague impression of Latin words.

Thank God her father had made her study that in high school.

“I have no clue.” Adrian looked away, to the rooftop of the mansion. “It’s where he went whenever he got that look in his eye—the one that meant he was worried he was coming up with the wrong answer. He hated that.”

Sissy frowned as she realized that Adrian was in serious pain. He had one hand on the small of his back, and was arching to the side as if trying to pop something into place.

It had been hard for him to be on his knees like that.

“Hold this for a sec,” she said, returning the book to him.

Walking around him, she turned on the flashlight and entered the garage. Laying the beam down by her feet, she crouched by the open duffels.

One by one, she put the things he had taken out back where they had been, making sure that the categories were preserved. When she was finished, she zipped up the two bags and shuffled them into their original position.

As she exited, she got up on her tiptoes and pulled down the door, batting away the leaves that hung off the bottom, and the spider that tried to land on her hand.

Back by his side, she took the book from him again. “Thanks.”

When she went to turn away, his hand landed on her shoulder. Looking up at him, she found it physically painful to see him struggle for words.

She put her hand over his. “You’re welcome.”

Taking care of someone’s dead was just as important as taking care of their living.

When Jim got home, it was about two seconds after five p.m. Thanks to Angel Airlines, he didn’t have to worry about a commute—and good thing. He was coming back and checking in only long enough to make sure that Sissy and Ad were hanging out okay. Then he had to go back to tailing Duke Phillips.

Opening the front door—

“What the …” Inhaling again, he nearly groaned. Onions sauteing with spices. Something meat, too. And fresh bread?

As he shut himself in, he faltered again. Talk about a woman’s touch … even though the light was fading in the sky, everything was so much brighter inside the house, the lamps shining as if the bulbs and silk shades had all been cleaned. The rugs were more colorful, too, like someone had vacuumed everywhere—and the floors. Jesus