Two-stroke engine, single spark, gas and oil mix…oh, wait, it’s me.
Which was when he spotted the other cat.
A marmalade tabby, it had a cream-colored bib and the same color markings around both muzzle and eyes. The darker stripes down tail and legs made it look as if it was wearing footie pajamas—the effect emphasized by the way the legs were still a bit too long for the body.
Samuel stared at it.
It stared back.
Head cocked to one side, Samuel took a cautious step forward.
It took a cautious step forward.
Hoping he wasn’t rushing the introduction, Samuel leaned forward for a good long sniff.
The cinnamon triangle of his nose mashed flat against the mirror.
Leaping back, his back feet scrambled for purchase as he nearly went off the chair, only the barricade of Diana’s legs saving him from an embarrassing fall. Blinking rapidly, he leaned against her knees, looked up at her, and said in what he hoped was a convincing tone, “I meant to do that.”
“Okay.”
“I knew it was a mirror.”
“I believe you.”
“Right.” He took a few quick licks at the edge of a stripe. “So, where do we go from here?”
Diana sighed. “Home.”
“But what about the demon?” Samuel demanded. “I’m not blocking it now. We should go after it.”
“Yes, we should. But we can’t.” She dropped down onto the arm of the chair and scowled at her reflection, one hand absently rubbing the cat behind the ears. “I can feel that there’s a demon out there, but I still don’t know where she is. Which means some other Keeper has it sealed up. And, gee, I wonder which other Keeper?”
“Claire?”
“Good guess.”
Samuel could tell Diana was upset, although he wasn’t entirely certain why. “You don’t know that for sure,” he offered.
Diana snorted. “We—me and Claire—were responsible for you, which makes us responsible for the demon, which means we should have got the Summons, but since I didn’t, she must have.”
He frowned, ears saddling. “Then she must be able to handle the demon on her own.”
“Well, duh. What?” she demanded of an eavesdropping Bystander, shooting him the look that had made her the terror of intramural field hockey back before the school board decided it might not be the best idea to give hormonally hopped up adolescents weapons and carte blanche to break shins. “You’ve never seen anyone talk to a stuffed animal before?”
“Actually, no.”
Holding his gaze, she reached into the possibilities. “You still haven’t.” Scooping up Samuel, she stood and headed for the revolving door. Outside, on Carlton Street, she put the cat down on a cleared bit of sidewalk.
“Hey! I’m in bare feet here!”
“You’re a cat. That’s the only way your feet come.”
“Right. I knew that, but…”
As the pigeon back-flapped into a landing, Samuel whirled around and leaped. Had he been in the body longer, he would have had to have dealt with the small ethical dilemma of whether or not an angel could actually eat a pigeon he’d killed—not to mention the slightly larger health dilemma of whether or not anyone should eat a pigeon born and raised on the streets of Toronto. As it was, he hooked a tail feather, but the rest of the bird got away, dropping a large, white, hysterical opinion of the change on Diana’s shoulder as it passed.
“Go on, chicken, fly! There’s more where that came from!” He boxed the feather to the ground, flicked it up, and boxed it down again.
“Are you done?”
“One more time.” Both front paws finally holding the feather captive, he smiled up at her. “Okay, I’m done. Now what?”
“First, you can stop being so cute.”
“Actually, I don’t think I can,” Samuel admitted after a moment’s consideration.
Diana sighed. “Swell. Do me a favor; if I ever talk baby talk to you, claw my tongue out.”
“I don’t think I can do that either.”
“Not surprised.” Bending, she picked him up and settled him in the crook of her arm. “Come on, it’s the subway to the train station and the first train to London for us.”
“That’s it?” When she nodded, he looked thoughtful. “So essentially I became a cat in order to go home with you and live a pampered life devoid of responsibility while others take the risks and get the glory?”
“Looks like.”
“Kewl.”
The Bystander Diana’d adjusted in the hotel lobby never saw anyone speak to a stuffed animal again. Although his wife didn’t believe in the disability, his children learned to exploit it early on by muttering constantly into the ears of plush toys when struck with the need to do something like fit a frozen hamburger patty into the DVD player.
“Yes, I have a car.” Backed into a literal corner, panic rolling off him like smoke, Leslie/Deter saw no way out. “Why?”
Byleth smiled sweetly and moved a step closer. “Because I need a ride.”
“No.”
“If you give me a ride, I’ll have sex with you.” She probably wouldn’t, but it seemed to be the best currency this body offered.
He swallowed and ground his shoulder blades into the wall, feet pedaling uselessly against the gray industrial tile on the floor. “No. I took the ch…chastity oath.”
“The ch…chastity oath?” Her breasts flattened over a good portion of his chest. “Okay, if you give me a ride, I won’t have sex with you.”
“Deal!”
Nalo almost never went to Scarborough. As well as old Aunt Jen, it had another Keeper taking care of day-to-day metaphysical maintenance. Unfortunately, old Aunt Jen had taken a dislike to the man, and Nalo found herself in the unenviable position of comforter and confidante.
So here I am, back on the bus. Reaching into the possibilities, she adjusted the heat blasting out of the grille under the window—a minor technical infraction but preferable to dry roasting. I know what Jen’s thinking, calling me out here again. She’s thinking she’ll leave me that hole when she dies. Well, she can just think again. I don’t give a damn about what’s supposed to be, I’m not dropping my ass onto a hole in Scarborough for the next fifty years. The moment Jen passes, I’m hauling Diana out here and she can use that power of hers to slap the sucker closed and I don’t care if she’s got more important things to do because there isn’t anything more important than keeping me out of Scar…
Hellfire and damnation.
Her fingers closed around the cord, and she was up out of her seat before the sound of the bell reached the bus driver’s ear.
“That’s your car?” Pulling off a mitten, Byleth trailed her fingers along the gleaming black hood of the 1973 Firebird. “Who’d have thunk it—a God-pimp with a truly kewl set of wheels. Maybe I will have sex with you.”
Eyes wide, Leslie/Deter jerked back. “Hey! You promised!”
Taking a deep breath, she leaned in and rubbed against the passenger door. “I know. But that was before I saw this totally demonic car.”
“You want a ride or not?”
“Yessss.…”
“Then stop humping my car and get in.”
The hair lifted on the back of Byleth’s neck. She watched a city bus drive by, slow, and pull into a bus stop at the end of the block.
“Byleth?”
“In a minute. I’ve got to take care of something first.”
The back doors of the bus opened.
She had to distract the Keeper or they’d never get away. Grabbing the first bit of darkness that came to hand, she tossed it into the small clump of preteens waiting at the light where it erupted into a sudden slush ball fight of epic proportions. She saw the massive handful of filthy ice and snow launched; she didn’t wait to see it land.