“I don’t want to die.”
“Good.”
He sighed and spread his hands. “But there’s a demon in the world, and if returning me to the light would expose the demon…”
“You have to say that,” Diana interrupted. “And knock off the sacrificial pose, I’m not buying it.” She threw herself down on the empty bed.
“Bouncing like that will destroy the mattress and the box spring.”
“Who are you getting your Higher Knowledge from, Martha Stewart?”
“Did you know you can create a lovely mailbox cozy out of a piece of felt and only six hundred dollars’ worth of handwoven French taffeta ribbon?”
“What?” She squirmed around and stared.
Samuel grinned.
The corners of her mouth beginning to curve, Diana grabbed a pillow and heaved it at him. “Jerk!”
He wasn’t sure why he considered that a compliment, but he did. “Diana, you have to send me back. I don’t want to go, but I understand why I have to.”
Squinting in the sudden glow, Diana sighed. Nothing like self-sacrifice to bring out the angel in a guy. If Claire or any other Keeper met him in this state, they’d send him back without even thinking about it. Easy answer—don’t let Claire or any other Keeper meet him.
And how hard could that be? No Summons, no directions—no way to find them.
“Mom? Claire. When you were talking to Diana a few minutes ago, did she happen to mention what hotel she’s staying at? Carlton Hotel, room 312. Thanks.”
“That looks like room 81Z,” Austin pointed out.
“I’d like to see you do better with an eyeliner on a condom wrapper.”
“Well, it’s nice you found something to use them for.”
Dean reached across the cat and picked up the address. “I don’t like this.”
“But they’re the only kind we’ve got.”
“What? No!” Suddenly flustered, he dropped the packet. It bounced off the sniggering cat and rolled under the bed. “I meant, I don’t like going to your mother,” he explained, dropping to his knees and running his hand beneath the edge of the bedspread. “It seems, I don’t know, sneaky.”
“No choice.” Claire folded her legs up out of his way. “First of all, Diana’s confused. Secondly, I’ve dealt with nothing but angel or demon sites since it happened, which is telling me pretty clearly that this is my responsibility. Third…” Reaching out, she grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. “…there’s just something about a man on his knees.”
“Claire…”
“What?”
“Found it!” Straightening, he was about to toss the packet onto her lap when he frowned. “This isn’t ours…”
“Eww.”
Still glowing, although beginning to dim, Samuel lay back on the bed, hands under his head, and stared at the ceiling. “You know what I’d like to experience before I…go back.”
“You’re not going back,” Diana told him absently. She paced the length of the hotel room one more time, examining and discarding another half-dozen bad ideas. The best she’d been able to come up with so far had involved rather more duct tape than she thought she could get her hands on.
“But still…”
“No.”
“Pizza.”
“What?” Either angels came with euphemisms high school didn’t cover—which was highly unlikely—or that wasn’t the experience she’d been expecting.
“And loud music.”
“Why?”
He shrugged as well as he was able, given his position. “I don’t know.”
Well, she hadn’t come up with any better ideas. “I could handle a pizza.”
“I think I just want to eat mine.”
“Oh, please, send me back now.” Falling backward, Samuel groaned and rubbed both hands over a visibly distended belly. “Why did I do that to myself?”
Compelled to answer truthfully, Diana snorted. “I think you were showing off.”
“Showing off what?”
“Beats me.”
“I feel awful.”
She dropped down onto the other bed. “What did you expect after a large with the works and half of my Hawaiian?”
“I wasn’t expecting anything!” A mighty belch delayed part two of the protest. Startled but impressed, he waited until the echoes died down before continuing. “I just thought.…”
“Thinking? As if. You were being a guy.” She squirmed back toward the pillows, propping them against the wall. “And speaking of, you’re starting to smell.”
“My olfactory senses have been working since I got here, thank you very much.”
“Right. Rephrasing—you stink.”
“I stink?”
Eyes rolling, she picked up the TV remote. “Don’t take my word for it. Check the pits.”
He lifted an arm. “I’m not supposed to smell like this?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’ll show you how the shower works in the morning. After that last incident, I don’t want you approaching new plumbing on your own.”
“I thought I was supposed to urinate against the wall.”
“Uh-huh.” A quick flip through the available channels brought the expected result: there was nothing on.
“What was that?” Samuel heaved himself up onto his elbows. “No, not that. Back. Back. There.”
Diana frowned. “It’s a documentary on lions.”
“What are they doing?”
She adjusted the contrast, but they were still doing it. “They’re having sex.”
“Kewl.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Vaguely proud of himself, although uncertain of why he should be, he belched again.
Byleth hadn’t expected to have so much fun. With a sense of Keepers too close for comfort, she’d planned on a low profile and a road trip in the morning. She’d listened to the praying, she’d eaten the meal, and she hadn’t been able to stop a snort of amusement during the preaching.
So they’d asked her if she had a question.
Surrounded by teenagers pulled from the streets, Byleth stood—hands jammed into the pockets of her black jeans, weight resting on one hip, expression sullen—and asked, “If Lloyd leaves London at 6:00 p.m. on a train heading east going 90 kilometers an hour and Tom leaves Toronto at 6:15 p.m. on a train heading west at 110 kilometers an hour, when will they die in a fiery explosion?”
Eyes dark from lid to lid compelled the truth.
“I don’t know.”
“Why?” She threw the word onto the end of his sentence so quickly momentum kept the ball rolling.
“I never paid attention in math.”
“Why?”
“I was fixated on Miss Miller’s breasts.”
“Why?”
“They were perky. What does this have to do with the text?” Leslie/Deter demanded, fingers white on the edge of the lectern.
“Nothing.” The last thing
