“…and it pulled in the light, giving it sort of a proto-form that kept it together until it got to Lena.”
“Where it became an angel.” Claire sighed. “Well, it could have been worse. He probably returned to the light as soon as his head cleared from that punch.”
“You think?”
“All the background information we have suggests angels can come and go through the barrier as they please. If you were him and you’d had the welcome he’d had, wouldn’t you go back where you came from? Now, as nice as it is to have those questions answered,” she continued when Diana nodded, “the hole created by reaction to the angel’s appearance has been sealed, and I’ve got other work to do.”
“But…”
“Merry Christmas, and I’ll try to stay in touch.”
“We really made an angel, then?” Dean asked as he turned out onto the road.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Seems a little…”
“Light on the sausage stuffing.” Austin lifted his head out of the box, his eye gleaming indignantly. “there’s barely enough here for two people, let alone three.”
“First of all, you’re not a people, you’re a cat.” Sliding one hand under his chest, Claire lifted him onto her lap. “Second, if you’ve stuck your litter-poo paw in the sweet potatoes, I will hurt you. Third…” She stroked a finger down the back of Dean’s thigh. “…I think we could’ve made an angel without Diana’s or Lena’s help.”
It took him a moment, then he grinned, caught up her hand, and brought it to his lips. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Are you two planning on continuing this sort of behavior?” Austin demanded from Claire’s lap. “Because I’m old, you know, and I don’t think my insulin levels are up to it.”
Claire pulled her hand away from Dean’s mouth and smoothed down a lifted line of fur. “Someone’s jealous.”
“Of him?” The cat snorted and dropped his head down on his paws. “Oh, please.”
“You sure?”
“Cats don’t get jealous.”
“Really?”
“They get even.”
“Austin.”
“I’m kidding.”
Diana stood in the driveway until Dean’s truck disappeared from view, and then walked back to the house kicking at clumps of snow.
…as nice as it is to have those questions answered…
Nice.
There were times when she just wanted to take Claire by the ears and shake loose that more-Keeper-than-thou attitude of hers.
She’s always thought the sun shines out of her butt…
Having carefully negotiated a tight curve, Dean glanced over at Claire and smiled. He loved the way the light shone up and through the chestnut highlights in her hair, how it made her eyes seem dark and mysterious, how it.…Hang on. “Where’s that light coming from?”
Claire sighed. “Just drive.”
SIX
A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR after leaving the Hansen house, Dean turned off York Street and stopped the truck in the parking lot of the London bus terminal. “Here, then?”
“Here.”
“Inside?”
“No, over there.” She pointed to a bus parked at the back of the lot, barely visible between the blowing snow and the fading daylight.
Dean put the truck in gear and moved slowly forward. Given the holiday, the terminal hadn’t seen a lot of traffic, so the parking lot, unplowed since morning, lay under a mostly unbroken blanket of snow. About three meters from the bus, he felt the steering wheel jerk in his hand and then begin to spin with that horrible, loose feeling that could only mean all four tires had no traction at all. He fought the skid, thought he had it, lost it again, and shouted, “Brace for impact!” just as the truck stopped with its passenger door a mere two inches from the front fender of the bus.
“Brace for impact?” Austin asked, removing his claws from Claire’s jeans. “Do you even know how to swear?”
Heart pounding, Dean shut off the engine. “What good would swearing do?”
“Since you have to ask, probably none at…hey! What did I say earlier about dangling?” he demanded as Claire lifted him off her lap.
“Sorry.” Brow furrowed, she rolled down her window and peered at the bus fender.
“Excuse me! Old cat in a draft!”
“Austin, be quiet. Dean, I’m going to have to get out your side.” She rolled up the window and reached under the cat to undo her seat belt. “We’re so close to the hole, I’m not sure you can safely move the truck. We’ve got a cascade going on here,” she added, sliding across, under the steering wheel, and out into the parking lot. As Dean struggled to hold the door against the wind, she leaned back into the cab. “Are you coming?”
“Is it summer yet?”
An icy wind blew pellets of snow down under her collar. “Not exactly.”
Austin settled down, folding his front paws under his ruff. “Then I’m staying inside.”
“All right. I’ll reset the possibilities to keep you warm.”
“Thank you. Although if you don’t close that door,” he added pointedly, “it won’t make much difference.”
Claire stepped back and nodded to Dean who, in spite of the wind, managed to close the door without slamming it. “You know anyone else would’ve just let it go.”
“I’m not anyone else.”
He had an arm on either side of her, gloved hands braced against the truck, and his smile was, if not suggestive, open to suggestion. Since they’d blocked the hole, effectively rendering it harmless, Claire figured it couldn’t hurt to take a short break. Besides, Austin was locked away behind glass and steel, making it too good an opportunity to miss.
When they pulled apart a moment later, an eight-meter circle of parking lot had been cleared of snow. The asphalt directly underfoot steamed gently.
“Is that going to happen every time?” Dean asked a little shakily, following Claire around to the bus.
“I honestly don’t know.” Her lips felt bruised and all her clothing felt way too tight. “How about we stop for the night once I get this hole closed?”
Dean glanced at his watch. “It’s ten after four.”
“It’s getting dark.”
He looked up at the sky and down at Claire. “I saw a hotel just up the road.”
“So did I.” Dropping to her knees by the
