“Is it just me,” Austin asked, sitting up, “or are we suddenly moving a lot faster?”
The angel had changed.
Feeling suddenly exposed, Byleth ran into the only room in the mission where she’d be left alone—unexpectedly finding three other girls already in there sharing a cigarette.
The dominant member of the trio slid off the sink and turned to face her. “You want something, new girl?”
The part of her that was a seventeen-year-old girl wanted to protest that she’d just come in to use the bathroom and she wasn’t looking for trouble. Then the rest of her pushed that part down and stole its lunch money. “I want you to leave.”
“What?”
“Leave.” Breathing heavily through her nose, barely holding all the parts together, Byleth reached into the darkness. “I want you to leave.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a half-eaten rat’s ass for what you want. I…What’s that?” Pierced brows drew in and scowled at the dripping bit of flesh hanging from the tail in Byleth’s hand.
“It’s a half-eaten rat’s ass. Take it and go.”
Eyes locked on the partial rodent, the other two girls sidled by and out the door. In the complex hierarchy of adolescence, having a rat’s ass conveniently on hand clearly trumped a pack of smokes and an attitude.
“What kind of retarded shithole do you come from?” their abandoned leader asked, taking an unconcerned drag. “That is so totally not what I meant. Now, me, I’m going to finish my cigarette and…” Her gaze locked on Byleth’s nose. “I never saw you light up.”
“I didn’t.”
“But there’s smoke…”
“Get. Out.”
“Hey, you’re not the boss of me.” Bravado winning over common sense, she flicked her butt toward the sink…
“NOW!”
…and was out the door before it actually touched the porcelain.
Byleth tossed the rat in the garbage and stared at her reflection. “Why is it so damned foggy in…oh.” Like thousands before her, she found it a lot harder to stop smoking than to start, but, after an extended struggle, she managed it. Not that it mattered, her cover had been blown. She might as well walk around in a pair of horns, carrying a pitchfork—if that particular look wasn’t so yesterday’s demon. Without equal and opposite coverage by the light, she’d be easy to spot by any Keeper and probably most Cousins. Metaphysical alarms would be screaming, “Demon in the world!” and every Goody Two-shoes in the area not currently helping little old ladies across the street would be zeroing in.
She should have changed with the angel. He was as much tied by the stupid body he was wearing as she was. Therefore, he couldn’t have changed on his own. He so cheated.
“Oh, yeah, he got a Keeper to change him so they could find me. Fine. You want to find me, Keeper, you’ll find me!” A light wisp of smoke drifted out of both nostrils. It felt great. “If I’m going out, I’m going out big. No more just hanging around and irritating people.” She spread her arms. “I’ll open a hole of darkness so big it’ll make the Home Shopping Channel seem like a cable network!”
Her reflection frowned. “It is a cable network.”
“Shut up!”
“And you can’t open a hole of darkness big enough to cause much trouble because the physicality of the body denies you access to that kind of power.”
“I am that kind of power.”
“Then you’ll have to destroy the body. You’ll cease to exist. Gone. No more reality than you can find in that stupid television program about those people on the island.”
“What do you mean?”
“Read your lips. You’ll be absorbed back into the darkness. No more you.”
“Oh, like it’s such joy to be a teenager.” But it was better than being nothing at all, better than being a lesser part of a greater whole—actually it was remarkably similar to being a lesser part of a greater whole. Byleth chewed thoughtfully on the edge of a thumbnail, spitting bits of navy blue polish into the sink. If she could open a big enough hole, cause enough mayhem and destruction, she could maintain her identity even in the darkness where individuality depended on being more of a shit than the next guy—and not always metaphorically.
She’d have to open the hole quickly, before the Keepers found her, so she’d need a spot where at least part of the work had already been done.
“And I know just the place.”
Unfortunately, her evil chortle fell flat as her reflection ignored her, concentrating instead on the dorky little flip ruining the right side of her hair.
“One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”
“Are you all right down there?”
Samuel stopped counting and glared up at Diana, cream-colored whiskers bristling indignantly. “Why?”
“No reason,”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
“This four legs walking stuff is a lot harder than it looks, you know.”
Diana bit back a snicker as she pushed the elevator call button. “It couldn’t possibly be. I think I should carry you,” she added as the elevator arrived. “I’ve set it up so people’s attention will slide right off you, but in an enclosed space you’d likely get stepped on.”
“Something tells me I didn’t think this transformation thing through,” Samuel muttered as she scooped him up. Still, it felt surprisingly pleasant to be held. He flicked his tail out into a more comfortable position as the door opened.
A small child stared up at them with widening eyes. “Kitty, Mama!”
“Yes, sweetheart,” his mother agreed, as Diana moved past her, “a stuffed kitty.”
“Who’s she calling stuffed?”
“Kitty talks, Mama!”
“Toy kitties don’t talk, sweetheart.”
A small hand closed around Samuel’s tail and pulled. “Ding dong!”
“OW!”
“Kitties don’t ding dong either, sweetheart.” Shooting Diana an apologetic smile, she grabbed her son’s wrist with one hand and pried his fingers free with the other. A bit of fur came free as well. “And it’s not polite to touch things that belong to other people.”
“Especially tails!” Hooking his claws in Diana’s jacket, Samuel swiveled around until he could stare down at the child, golden eyes narrowed to glimmering slits. “Listen to your mother, Ramji, because someday she’ll die and you’ll wish you had.”
Ramji wrapped his arms around his mother’s leg. “Kitty knows my name.”
He was still wrapped around her leg when the elevator reached the lobby, and she crossed to the hotel’s front door with a resigned shuffle.
“That’s a kid who’s going to need serious therapy down the road.” Diana shifted her grip. “What kind of an angel says something like that?”
“The kind that just got his tail pulled. Besides,” Samuel continued after a few quick licks at his shoulder, “it’s the truth and one day he’ll thank me for it.”
“One day he’ll spend thousands of dollars being convinced you were a metaphor for toilet training.”
“He grabbed my tail!”
“I know. I was there.”
“You said people wouldn’t be able to see me properly.”
“He was a proto-person.” She set him down in one of the lobby’s over stuffed chairs and stepped back. “I’m going to check out. Stay there.”
“Or what?”
“I haven’t got time to go into it right now, but why don’t you apply that Higher Knowledge thing to the joint concepts of can openers and opposable thumbs.” As she walked over to the counter, she considered all the things he could have become and asked the world at large, more in search of sympathy than enlightenment, “Why a cat?”
The world at large offered no answers.
Left to amuse himself, Samuel did a little kneading, claws moving rhythmically in and out of the corduroy cushion covers. Shoulders up, head down, his eyes began to close as he moved in a slow circle. He didn’t know what it was, but something about that yielding surface under his front paws created the most incredible feeling. Kneading harder, really putting his back into it, he heard a sudden loud noise and froze.