“It isn’t fair,” I growled.
“What is?” she asked.
“Bah. One of these days I’m going to go downtown and summon up a swarm of roaches or something. Just to watch the suits run out of the building, screaming.”
This time, her smile was wired a little tight. “That won’t help me.”
“Are you kidding? We could sit outside and take pictures as they came running out and laugh ourselves sick.”
“And that helps how?”
“Laughter is good for you,” I said. “Nine out of ten stand-up comedians recommend laughter in the face of intense stupidity.”
She let out a tired, quiet chuckle. “Let me sleep on that one, too.” She pushed away from the wall, drawing her keys from her pocket. “I’ve got an appointment with the spin doctor,” she said. “You want a ride home?”
I shook my head. “Few things I want to do first. Thanks, though.”
She nodded and turned to go. Then she paused. “Harry,” she said quiedy.
“Hmm?”
“What I said in the elevator.”
I swallowed. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean it to come out so harsh. You’re a good man. Someone I’m damned proud to call my friend. But I care too much about you to lie to you or lead you on.”
“It’s no one’s fault,” I said quietly. “You had to be honest with me. I can live with that.”
One corner of her mouth quirked into a wry half grin. “What are friends for?”
I sensed a change in tone as she asked the question, a very faint interrogative.
I stood up and put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m your friend. That won’t change, Karrin. Ever.”
She nodded, blinking several times, and for a moment rested her hand on mine. Then she turned to leave. Just then, Thomas poked his head in from the hallway. “Harry, Karrin. You leaving?”
“I am,” she said.
Thomas glanced at me. “Uh-huh. Think I can bum a ride?”
Her car keys rattled. “Sure,” she said.
“Thanks.” He nodded to me. “Thank you for another field trip, Harry. Kind of bland, though. Maybe next time we should bring some coffee or something, so we don’t yawn ourselves to death.”
“Beat it before I kick your whining ass,” I said.
Thomas sneered at me in reply, and he and Murphy left.
I ate the rest of my sandwich, idly noting that I had reached one of those odd little mental moments where I felt too tired to go to sleep. Across the room, Charity and her children had all fallen asleep where she sat on the floor, the children all leaning upon their mother and each other like living pillows. Charity looked exhausted, naturally, and I could see care lines on her face that I’d never really noticed before.
She could be a pain in the ass, but she was one gutsy chick. Her kids were lucky to have a mother like her. A lot of moms would say that they would die for their children. Charity had placed herself squarely in harm’s way to do exactly that.
I regarded the kids for a moment, mostly very young children’s faces, relaxed in sleep. Children whose world had been founded in something as solid as Charity’s love for them would be able to do almost anything. Between her and her husband, they could be raising an entire generation of men and women with the same kind of power, selflessness, and courage.
I’m a pessimist of the human condition, as a rule, but contemplating the future and how the Carpenter kids could contribute to it was the kind of thought that gave me hope for us all, despite myself.
Of course, I suppose someone must once have looked down upon young Lucifer and considered what tremendous potential he contained.
As that unsettling thought went through my head, Molly shifted herself out from under her mother’s arm, removed her leg very gently from beneath a little brother’s ear, and extracted herself from the slumbering dogpile. She moved quietly for the exit until she glanced up, saw me watching her, and froze for half a step.
“You’re awake,” she whispered.
“Too tired to sleep,” I said. “Where are you going?”
She rubbed her hands on her torn skirts and avoided my eyes. “I… what I put them through. I thought it would be better if I just…”
“Left?” I asked.
She shrugged a shoulder, and didn’t lift her eyes. “It won’t work. Me staying at home.”
“Why not?” I asked.
She shook her head tiredly. “It just won’t. Not anymore.” She walked out past me.
I moved my right hand smoothly, gripping her hand at the wrist, skin-to-skin contact that conducted the quivering, tingling aura of power of a practitioner of the Art up through my arm. She’d avoided direct contact before, though I hadn’t had a reason to think she would at the time.
She froze, staring at my face, as she felt the same presence of power in my own hand.
“You can’t stay because of your magic. That’s what you mean.”
She swallowed. “How… how did you know?…”
“I’m a wizard, kid. Give me some credit.”
She folded her arms beneath her breasts, her shoulders hunched. “I should g-go…”
I stood up. “Yeah, you should. We need to talk.”
She bit her lip and looked up at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve got some tough choices to make, Molly. You’ve got the power. You’re going to have to figure out whether you want to use it. Or whether you’re going to let it use you.” I gestured with a hand for her to accompany me and walked out, slowly. We weren’t going anywhere. What was important was the walk. She kept pace with me, her body language as closed and defensive as you please.
“When did it start for you?” I asked her quietly.
She chewed her lip. She said nothing.
Maybe I had to give a little to get a little. “It’s always like that for people like us. Something happens, almost like it’s all by itself, the first time the magic bubbles over. It’s usually something small and silly. My first time…” I smiled. “Oh, man. I haven’t thought about that in a while.” I mused for a moment, thinking. “It was maybe two weeks before Justin adopted me,” I said. “I was in school, and small. All elbows and ears. Hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet, and it was spring, and we were having this school Olympics. Field day, you know? And I was entered in the running long jump.” I grinned. “Man, I wanted to win it. I’d lost every other event to a couple of guys who liked to give me a hard time. So I ran down the blacktop and jumped as hard as I could, yelling the whole time.” I shook my head. “Must have looked silly. But when I shouted and jumped, some of the power rolled out of me and threw me about ten feet farther than I should have been able to jump. I landed badly, of course. Sprained my wrist. But I won this little blue ribbon. I still have it back at home.”
Molly looked up at me with a little ghost of a smile. “I can’t imagine you being smaller than average.”
“Everyone’s little sometime,” I said.
“Were you shy, too?”
“Not as much as I should have been. I had this problem where I gave a lot of lip to older kids. And teachers. And pretty much everyone else who tried to intimidate me, whether or not it was for my own good.”
She let out a little giggle. “That I can believe.”
“You?” I asked gently.
She shook her head. “Mine is silly, too. I walked home from school one day about two years ago and it was raining, so I ran straight inside. It was errands day, and I thought Mom was gone.”
“Ah,” I said. “Let me guess. You were still wearing the Gothy McGoth outfit instead of what your mom saw you leave the house in.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Yes. Only she wasn’t running errands. Gran had borrowed the van and taken the little ones to get haircuts because Mom was sick. I was in the living room and I hadn’t changed back. All I wanted was to sink into the floor so she wouldn’t see me.”