“But…”
“Trust me.” She pried his fingers out of the down depths of her sleeve and, with one hand on an admirably tight tush, boosted him up the steps. “And try not to piss anyone off!” she added as the door closed. Staring back out at her through the filthy glass, he looked lost and pathetic, but she couldn’t shake the feeling he was safer away from the other Keeper.
Wrapping herself in surly teenager, she turned, stepped back up onto the sidewalk, and folded her arms. “Don’t call me ‘young lady’,” she growled, when Nalo closed the last of the distance between them. “I really, really hate it.”
“Really? Tough. Now, you want to tell me why you were hauling ass away from me, or do you want me to make some guesses?”
They were alone on the corner—there’d be no help from curious Bystanders. Diana snorted and rolled her eyes. Not a particularly articulate response but useful when stalling.
“Your parents don’t know you’re here, do they? Don’t bother denying it, girl…” An inarguable finger cut off incipient protest. “…you’ve got guilt rolling off you like smoke.”
Perfect! True, if a tad trite. Diana could have kissed her. She widened her eyes. “You won’t tell?”
“None of my business. I don’t care if you’re here to waste money, I don’t care if you’re here to see that boy you stuffed on the streetcar—oh, I saw him, don’t give me that look—but I do care about what you’ve been up to since you got here.”
“But I haven’t done anything!”
“You stopped time, Diana.”
Oops.
“I was trying to prevent a fight.”
Nalo sighed. “Girl, I don’t care if you were trying to prevent an Abba reunion.…”
“Who?”
“Never mind. The point is, you’ve been messing with the metaphysical background noise since you got here The whole place is buzzing.”
“It wasn’t me!”
“No? Then who?”
A black Buick cruised by, and Diana bit her tongue.
“Look, I spent half an hour on the phone with the 102-year-old Keeper monitoring that site in Scarborough who’s positive we’re heading toward a battle between the dark and the light, and I have better things to do with my time than convince the senile old bird we’re not heading for Armageddon. Either tone it down or take it home, but stop screwing up my…what’s that on your arm?”
Diana brushed away a little snow, taking the angel residue with it, and peered down at her sleeve. “Where?”
The older Keeper shook her head. “Must’ve been ice crystals.” She tucked a cashmere scarf more securely into the collar of her coat. “I think I’d like to keep an eye on you for a while. You can join me for a bit.”
Surrender seemed the only option, but she made a token protest regardless. “I can’t afford the kind of restaurants you like.”
“Honey, we’re Keepers. We should be, if nothing else, adaptable.”
“You buying?”
“I might be.”
“Then I can be adaptable.”
Distress bordering on panic pulled Samuel off the streetcar and across the road into a maze of four-story apartment buildings and identical rows of two-story brick town houses. He found the source of the distress crouched miserably at the bottom of a rusty slide and dropped to his knees beside her.
With gentle fingers, he brushed snow off her head.
She turned toward him, looked up into his eyes, and threw herself against his chest. “Lost, lost, lost, lost…”
“Shhh, it’s all right, Daisy.” He had to physically brace himself against the force of her emotions. “Don’t worry, I’ll help. Do you live in one of these buildings?”
Shivering, she pressed herself harder against him. “Lost…”
He could see where she’d entered the playground, but her prints were filling in fast. “Come on.” Standing, he tucked two fingers under her red leather collar. “We’ll have to hurry.”
They weren’t quite fast enough. The paw prints had disappeared under fresh snow by the time they got to River Street.
“Now where?”
The Dalmatian looked up at him with such complete trust, Samuel had to swallow a lump in his throat. Dropping to one knee on the sidewalk, he held out his hand. “Give me your paw.”
She looked at him for a long moment, looked at his hand, then laid her right front paw against his palm.
He reached into himself for the light.
“What was that?”
Diana kept her attention on her stuffed pita. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Did I even mention you?” Nalo swiveled around, her right hand combing the air. “Something shifted.”
“It’s not a hole.”
“No, it isn’t.” She sat down again, eyes locked on the younger Keeper. “So I guess it’s none of our business.”
The glowing paw prints led him to a town house in the Oak Street Co-op. As they turned down the walk, Daisy pulled free and raced for the door.
“Home! Home! Home!”
The door opened before she reached it, and a slender young woman rushed out and dropped to her knees throwing her arms around the dog. “You rotten, rotten old thing. How could you put me through that. Where’ve you been, eh?” Brushing away tears, she stood and held out a hand to Samuel. “Thank you for bringing her home. We just moved to Toronto from New Brunswick, and I think she went out looking for our old neighborhood. She doesn’t have her new tags yet.” Suddenly hearing her own words, she frowned. “So, without any tags, how did you find us?”
Samuel grinned, unable to resist the dog’s happiness. “We followed her prints.”
“Her prints, of course.” As a gust of wind came around the corner, she smiled out at him from behind a moving curtain of long, curly hair. “You must be half frozen. Would you like to come in and thaw out? Maybe have a hot chocolate, eh?”
He was suddenly very cold. “Yes, please.”
“In. In. In. In.” Daisy insisted on being between both sets of legs, but they somehow got inside and closed the door.
Her name was Patricia, her husband’s name was Bill. As Daisy enthusiastically greeted the latter, Patricia took Samuel’s jacket and led him into the living room. Left
