“You can’t help me.”
As she turned her head toward Diana, Claire came into the room, knelt by the hole, and used her fingertip to brush a symbol against the nap of the carpet.
“No one can help me,” Lena continued, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. “My father took my angel away!”
Wondering how she could tell there was an angel missing given the number remaining in the room, Diana patted her shoulder in a comforting sort of a way. “Well, you’ve got more…”
“No! He was a real angel. He came out of the light last night when I lit my candle! And I don’t care if you believe me.”
“I believe you. Did your father happen to hit this angel?” Claire asked in such a matter-of-fact tone that Diana swiveled around on the bed to stare at her.
“Yes. He just barged in like he does, all mad, and when he saw him, he like totally lost it and he hit him and took him away, and I am never speaking to him again.”
“Where did your father take the angel, Lena?”
“To the priest! I so totally hate him!”
“The priest or your father?”
“Both of them!”
“Diana.” Bending, Claire traced another symbol, then hurriedly erased it as a bit of the carpet melted. “I think Lena would feel better if she got some sleep.”
“No! I don’t want to…”
Diana adjusted Lena’s head on the pillow, then turned back to her sister. “Are you suggesting that Lena actually got visited by a real angel?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. You heard her: a Bystander can’t lie to a Keeper.”
“But they can lie to themselves. Lena once honestly believed she saw an image of Leonardo DiCaprio in a bowl of butterscotch pudding, throwing the female half of the ninth grade into hysterics for the remainder of lunch.”
“Really?”
Diana nodded. “It wasn’t pretty.”
“Well, this time she isn’t lying to anyone, herself or us.” Claire sat back on her heels and waved a hand around the room. “There’s distinct residue under the darkness. It’s obvious once you know to check for it.”
“Oh, yeah. Obvious angel residue. That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”
“Diana, this is serious.”
“Okay, I’m being serious.” Picking up the Backstreet Boys mug, she made a face and put it down again. “Question is, why would an angel appear to Lena? Obsession isn’t enough to open the possibilities that wide. You think it was sent with a message?”
“Can’t have or it would have vanished once the message was delivered, and she said that her father took it away.”
“Maybe it got taken away before the message got delivered.”
“No, it would never have allowed that to happen. A message from the light gets delivered, regardless. An angry father would’ve stood about as much chance facing down a determined angel as he would have facing down a runaway transport with pretty much the same result. Here’s a better question: how could the possibilities have opened that wide without me noticing?”
“That’s easy. If they opened last night, you were busy.” Eyes narrowed, Diana grinned suddenly. “Are you blushing?”
“No.” Claire didn’t even try to make the denial sound convincing. Given the heat of her cheeks, there didn’t seem to be much point. “So why didn’t you notice?”
“Beats me. Must’ve gotten lost in that whole peace-and-joy stuff. You know what it’s like around this time of the year.”
“True enough.”
“And since it was from the upper end of things, it’s not really our problem anyway.”
“True again.” She traced a third symbol, and the noise level upstairs began to fall off. “That’s put a temporary cover over the site, but I’m going to need details to actually seal it.”
“Like?”
“Like why would a basically decent man take a swing at a messenger of the light.”
“Is that what opened the hole?”
“Diana, Mr. Giorno punched an angel; what do you think?”
“Just checking.” Leaning forward, Diana brushed a bit of thick, dark hair back off of Lena’s face and softly called her name. “Don’t wake up,” she instructed when the sleeping girl began to stir, “just tell me, without getting angry, why your father hit the angel.”
“He was naked.”
“Your father?” Given the amount of hair curling up through the opening of Mr. Giorno’s collar and right down to his knuckles, that was an image Diana quickly banished.
“Not my father. The angel.”
“The angel was naked?”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled slightly. “I saw his thing.”
“Lena, angels don’t have things.”
“I know that.” Even asleep she managed the emphasis. “But he did. I think…” Her brow furrowed. “I think my father gave it to him. It was big.”
“And your basis of comparison would be?”
“Diana!”
Without turning, she flapped a hand at her sister to shut off further protests. “You can get back to me later on that, Lena. Right now, you drift off again and I’ll call you if I need you.”
“O…” A long sigh. “…kay.”
After checking to see that she’d gone deep again, Diana stood and spread her arms triumphantly, modifying the gesture somewhat to catch the cherub she’d knocked off a shelf. “Ta dah. Her father burst into her room as Lena’s obsession was manifesting a naked angel, jumped to the fatherly conclusion, and slugged the guy.”
Claire rolled her eyes and added a little more power as the cover shifted. “Only a teenager would manifest a naked angel.”
“Get over it. You manifested a naked Dean all last night.”
“That’s not the…”
“And ignored a Summons—this Summons—while you were doing it. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t have done the same thing under similar circumstances. All I’m saying is that you have no cause to be pointing the finger at someone else’s hormones.”
After a long moment, during which several high-pitched voices could be heard insisting that they hadn’t touched the gravy and they didn’t know what was floating in it, Claire sighed. “Okay. You have a point. And since he might have had clothing had
